An Ideal Death-Eater

When Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron sometime near dusk, he almost literally ran into Mr Weasley. Fortunately, a friendly wizard at the Enchanted Christmas Shoppe in Diagon Alley had shrunk all his packages into a self-expanding box. Otherwise, they would have been broken by his hasty withdrawal from the door.

Mr Weasley turned around and spotted Harry, reaching out a hand to steady him while casting a nervous glance out toward the setting sun.

"I'm so glad that I found you, Harry. We have to go back to the Burrow immediately."

Harry suddenly got a very cold feeling in his stomach that spread and tightened over his ribs. "Why? What's happened? Is everyone all right?"

Mr Weasley waved this away. "Everyone's fine. But Minister Fudge was persuaded to close down the Floo Network until after the holidays."

Dumbstruck, Harry began to speak, but Mr Weasley kept him silent with a quick motion of his hand. "I'll explain it to you and everyone else when we get back to the Burrow. But we have to go before sunset or you'll be stuck here until January."

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be led over to the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace. He stepped into the green flames after Mr Weasley and shouted for the Burrow.

Tumbling out of the hearth, Harry turned around just in time to see a small card fly out of the fireplace. He picked it up and read in stunned silence.

By Order of the Ministry of Magic

Greetings,

Due to the Floo powder shortage, the Ministry of Magic has shut down the Floo Network until after the holidays. The Network has become too expensive to maintain in comparison to the amount of people able to make use of it. Please allow extra time for other modes of transportation during your holiday visits this year.

Happy Christmas,

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

"This followed me out. How could they do such a thing?"

Mr Weasley took the card Harry offered him and looked it over gravely before tossing it back into the hearth.

"Come into the kitchen, Harry. I'll ask Molly to put the kettle on and tell you all about it."

Harry nodded and set his box on the couch, following after Mr Weasley. Draco and Ginny were sitting at the table with Mrs Weasley, both bundled up in blankets and sneezing intermittently. Mrs Weasley looked up at Harry and Mr Weasley, smiling brightly.

"You're just in time, I made some fresh tea."

Mr Weasley briefly pecked his wife on top of her head and took a seat beside her, motioning for Harry to sit down as well.

"What happened to them?" Harry asked as Mr Weasley passed him a cup of tea. Mrs Weasley smothered a laugh behind her hand and Draco shot her a dirty look.

"Draco wad playing oud in duh snow when he sdepped on a snow spride and god cursed by her sisder," Ginny volunteered, taking a shaky sip of her tea.

"I wad nod playing in duh snow," he said carefully. "I wad drying do gill George."

Harry glanced at Mr Weasley out of the corner of his eye and both burst out laughing, tears streaming down their cheeks. Mrs Weasley stopped giggling behind her hand and stood up to pull down a bottle from the cupboard. Draco's eyes widened and he stood up quickly, letting the blanket drop from his shoulders.

"No, no more of dad. I'm nod daking id!"

Mrs Weasley grabbed a spoon out of her apron and made her way over to him carefully. "Yes, you are. Don't be such a baby, dear."

"I'm nod being a baby. You're drying do poidon me!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry tried hard not to laugh again. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would ever be afraid of Mrs Weasley?

Smiling sweetly, Mrs Weasley pinched his nose until he opened his mouth and then shoved the spoon inside. Draco twisted his mouth in disgust, but swallowed all the same.

"There now, not so horrible. But it really is difficult to pinch your nose every time. Why don't you just buck up, dear?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at her and made a funny snorting sound, but didn't say anything further until Mrs Weasley turned toward her daughter.

"Led me do id!" Draco shouted out, a wicked grin on his face.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and opened her mouth obediently.

Mrs Weasley only tutted at Ginny's behaviour and shook her head. "You already gave her a cold, Draco. I think she's been tortured enough for today."

All the while, Harry was sitting at the table with a confounded expression on his face that was mirrored by Mr Weasley.

"Molly, how did Draco give Ginny a cold?" Arthur asked, his voice faint with growing suspicion.

Mrs Weasley only glanced slyly at Draco out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know, dear. Draco, care to explain to Mr Weasley why Ginny has your cold?"

Harry raised his eyebrows as Ginny turned a vivid shade of red and Draco sat back down, grumbling something under his breath. Mr Weasley was staring daggers at the pale blonde head in front of him and was about to say something until Harry spoke first, not quite feeling up to hearing a battle to the death between Weasley and Malfoy.

"Did Ron get back to the Burrow all right, Mrs Weasley? I met him at the Leaky Cauldron this morning, but he didn't say much to me before he Flooed back here."

Mrs Weasley shook her head and sat down next to her husband, pouring him another cup of tea. Draco held out his cup and she poured some for him as well before answering Harry.

"He's been up in his room all day and won't talk to anyone. I don't know what's wrong with him," she sighed and looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers around the tablecloth.

"I'm only glad that he decided to come home today, it would have been too late tomorrow," Mr Weasley said, breath steaming over his tea cup.

Mrs Weasley looked up at this, her eyes startled. "Too late? What do you mean?"

Mr Weasley set his cup on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "Minister Fudge decided to shut down the Floo Network until after the holidays and the Floo powder shortage has passed."

"What? Why did he do a thing like that?" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, sucking in a breath.

Mr Weasley twisted his lips in a frown, shooting an apologetic glance at Draco before stating, "Lucius."

If Draco was angry or embarrassed, it wasn't visible except for the white knuckles clutching at his cup. "Id shouldn'd surprise you, he's a basdard."

The cold, gripping feeling from earlier was back and Harry tried desperately to drown it in tea. His hands were shaking and he suddenly felt the urge to find Hermione and hold her tight. No one was safe though; something was coming. Perhaps it would be better to put Hermione and everyone else somewhere he couldn't find them. Then maybe Voldemort wouldn't be able to hurt them either.

"Draco, Molly and I need to have a word with you later. But it can wait until after tea, if you'd like," Mr Weasley said.

Harry had the feeling that he should eavesdrop on that conversation as it likely didn‘t have anything to do with how Ginny caught Malfoy‘s cold. He didn't like the fact that he knew next to nothing about why Malfoy was even still there. Mrs Weasley stood up from the table and set the empty teapot in the sink.

"I'm going to start tea right now, actually. Harry," she glanced at him distractedly. "Why don't you take Draco and Ginny into the other room and play a game or something?"

It had been a long time since Mrs Weasley had treated him like such a child, but Harry put it down to nerves and complied. Draco rose from his seat grudgingly and followed Ginny and Harry out of the kitchen.

Draco plunked down next to the fire, putting his hands so close to it that they could easily burn if he wasn't careful. Ginny sat on the sofa though, keeping her blankets wrapped firmly about her shoulders. The familiar sound of explosions drifted down the stairs, along with laughter from three Weasley boys. Ron wasn't laughing though; Harry would recognise it if he were. It was time to talk to him. And Hermione, where ever she was.

"I'm going to find Ron and Hermione. I'll be back in a moment," Harry said absently to Ginny.

Draco reached out a hand to stop him. "Podder, did you ged my fags?"

Harry looked down and laughed. "I don't think you'll be able to smoke them for a while, Malfoy."

"Yes I can."

Harry rolled his eyes and undid the strings on the box he'd set on the couch earlier. The parcel expanded rapidly before bursting into several brightly wrapped presents and a brown paper bag. Digging into the sack, Harry pulled out ten green boxes that said ‘Earl and Flick's Menthol Cigarettes - with new and improved Calming Charm!'.

"Here," Harry said, depositing all but two onto Draco's lap along with the small purse of gold he'd been given earlier. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy."

"Why are you keeping dwo?"

Harry shrugged. "Consider it my fee for buying the things in the first place."

Draco glanced up at one of the boxes and noticed that the wrapping had been removed. His eyes lit up with a demented sort of glee. "Oh Podder, you're a naudy boy."

Nose twitching furiously, Ginny finally burst out with laughter. "Harry! You led Draco giff you a fag? Mum'll be furious when she finds oud dad he sdarded you smoking."

Harry flushed deeply, realising that Hermione would be angry, too. Good thing he picked up some lovely little mints from the smoke shop. Those cigarettes really were growing on him, too. Sod it.

"Giff me dad sack, Podder. I can'd carry all dees ad once." Draco reached up and snatched the brown paper bag out of Harry's hand, quickly stuffing it full with the little green boxes. He stood up then and walked toward the stairs, a smug grin plastered on his face. Must be nice to feel so giddy at the thought of corrupting someone, Harry thought.

"Come on, Podder. We'll haff a fag upstairs. I'll effen show you my secred hiding spod."

Harry shook his head and grinned despite himself, following Draco up the stairs. The blonde turned off at the second landing and went into Percy's room, pulling one of the boxes from the bag before handing the paper sack to Harry.

"Dere's a loose floorboard under duh desk. Sdick dem in dere."

Snickering at Draco's speech impediment, Harry crawled under the desk and touched the floor with his fingertips, searching for the loose panel. It wasn't fair that Harry had been coming to the Burrow for years, yet Draco Malfoy was here for less than a week and he'd already found interesting hidey holes.

Harry felt one give and pulled it up. There were all sorts of letters inside and Harry looked at them in puzzlement before taking one out.

"Are these yours?"

Draco frowned and slid off the bed, a cigarette between his lips dangling haphazardly. "No, I'ff nefer seen dose before. You pulled up duh wrong board, you sod."

Harry sat on the floor next to the desk, a curious Draco beside him, and turned the envelope over in his hand. It was addressed to Percy in an ornate script. Suddenly, Draco gasped and snatched it from Harry.

"Dis is my fader's handwriding! I'd recognise id anywhere."

"What would letters from your father be doing in Percy's room?"

Draco sniffed loudly, trying to talk until Harry handed him a handkerchief out of sheer exasperation.

"For cripe's sake, blow your conk, Malfoy. You sound disgusting."

Honking into the cloth a few times, Draco blinked bleary eyes at Harry before clearing his throat. "Ah, that's better. Now I don't sound like an idiot anymore."

Harry wisely kept his opinion on that to himself while Draco looked back down at the letter in his hands before ripping open the envelope to get inside. A slip of parchment fell out and Harry nicked it before Draco had the chance to do so himself.

"It's from my father, I think I should read it if anyone!"

"Just give me a moment, Malfoy," Harry said absently as he had already started to scan the ornate, flowing scrawl.

Percy,

You know that I care for you, of course. But I do not think that the time is yet ripe for me to leave N— — . Our Friend may still have need for company and I would hate to deprive him of someone he is fond of.

Make sure that you are at my home on the 23rd. Do not be late as there will be a splendid feast. Our Friend will be most disappointed if you do not bring him a present since he went to so much trouble procuring time for us to be together. Bring the new cloak I gave you as well, it suits you perfectly.

With affection,

L— —

Harry clutched the paper tightly in hands that trembled. It didn't take a genius to figure out who ‘Our Friend' was.

"What does it say, Potter?"

Draco attempted to grab the parchment from him, but Harry clung to it tenaciously.

"You don't want to read this, Malfoy, trust me. I have to give this to Mr Weasley."

"Gobshite, give me the blasted letter."

Harry could see how wide Draco's eyes were, and smoke pooled from the cigarette in his hand to wreath the boy‘s face. With one last look to convey the fact that he didn't want to give it to him, Harry handed the paper over.

Draco snatched it up and read quickly, his normally pale features blanching further in horror as his fag fell to the floor and disappeared.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, dropping the paper like it was a snake. "My father didn't write that, he couldn't have done. It‘s a bloody trick."

Running shaky fingers through his hair, Harry picked up the box of cigarettes Draco dropped and pulled one out. He put it to his lips and puffed, watching as the end turned bright cherry red without need of a flame. Smoke filled his lungs and he could feel the calming charm at work. Already it was clearing the shock from his system and allowing him to think. Harry could easily see now why so many people depended on them.

He looked up and noticed that Draco's eyes were wide and disbelief still overlaid his features. Harry passed him another cigarette and Draco took it gratefully, sucking at the filter in a desperate sort of way.

"I have to show these to Mr Weasley."

"Are you mad?" Draco hissed, smoke pouring out of his mouth like a dragon. "It's bad enough that you know my father's a— " he closed his eyes and swallowed. "My father's a p-poof. But to tell the Wea— "

"I have to tell them, Malfoy!" Harry cut him off severely. "It's their son who's consorting with your father and they need to know."

Draco was very still for a few minutes, his only motion being the even rise and fall of one hand to his lips. Harry thought he was completely in another world and was about to say something when he spoke.

"You can tell Mr Weasley about it, and I assume Mrs Weasley, too. Just don't tell any of the others about this."

The look he gave Harry was almost pleading, or as close to it as Draco Malfoy ever was. Maybe he was human after all. Harry nodded quietly and folded the note into one of his pockets. Malfoy seemed relieved and stood up, holding out a hand to Harry.

He looked at it in amazement and then stared up at Draco. This would probably be the only show of gratitude he'd ever receive from a Malfoy. Harry was vividly reminded of his first year and the offer of friendship he had been presented with then. Harry shook his head to dislodge that thought and pushed himself off the floor.

"I'll give this to Mr Weasley after tea or when everyone's gone to bed."

Draco nodded, his eyes glittering strangely in the half-light. "I'll be there, too. I can't hide from this forever, and maybe I can— " He broke off and Harry could hear the grate of his teeth. No more words came out and Draco walked out of the room.

Harry stayed there for a moment, wondering if Malfoy was actually going to offer his help. He was still the same smarmy git he'd always been, but there was something very different about Draco Malfoy now. Harry shrugged it off and made his way out of the room and down to the end of the corridor.

The door to Hermione's room was open a crack and he pushed gently. It was dark inside, but he could see from the light in the hall that she was lying face down on the bed; the fluffy head he knew so well cradled in her arms.

"Hermione? Are you awake?"

She sat up with a start, sniffing quietly. "Harry, is that you?"

Harry frowned and stepped inside, closing the door. It was obvious that she had been crying; he could see the tear tracks down her face even in the dim moonlight. Sitting on the bed, Harry pulled Hermione to him, awkwardly patting her back. Weeping females had never been one of his strong suits.

"Hermione, what's the matter?"

Her shoulders shook harder and she nuzzled her face into his soft woollen jumper. After a few more clumsy thumps on the back and several hiccups, she spoke.

"Oh Harry, Ron is such a— a— !"

The last word was interrupted by another hiccup and she pressed her face even deeper into his chest, clawing her fingers around the fabric of his sleeve. To say Harry was puzzled was a given.

"What‘s happened now?"

Hermione shook her head violently and twisted both wool and skin with her frantic hands. Harry winced slightly but didn't move otherwise.

"I h-had a fight with -hic- Ron earlier."

"What did you say?"

She pulled away from his chest; her eyes and nose were glistening in the faint light. "I tried to talk to him, be nice and -hic- everything. But Ron made me so mad and started talking in that annoying way he does. You know, when he wants to make me angry. All ‘don't its' and ‘sight lots' but no real words, Harry. Then I was suddenly so cross that I just floundered; I couldn‘t even speak. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out but a bunch of nonsense. And he— he laughed at me!"

Harry's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Hermione's small frame shook with the sobs trying to escape. "Are my brains turning to mush now? I can‘t even speak properly he makes me so cross. What if it was important? What if it were Voldemort there and I couldn‘t hex him because I was so angry?"

"Hermione," Harry said, lifting a finger to trace her cheek gently. She may have been overreacting, but he knew that Hermione took herself very seriously. With all the bad feelings he‘d been having lately, Harry knew that this certainly wasn‘t the time for Hermione to doubt herself or her intelligence. She needed to be strong. "I don't think you're stupid. You're the brightest person I know and that won't ever change. This isn‘t the end of the world."

She gazed at him sadly. "It is to me."

"You're fine. Honestly, everyone gets cross and lets their feelings take over sometimes. And I'm going to pound Ron for laughing at you."

Hermione was about to say more, but he stopped her with a kiss. He let it linger a moment, giving them both some small comfort before pulling away. Harry reached up and stroked her hair.

"Go to the loo and wash your face. Then come down to the kitchen, tea's probably ready."

She nodded and gave him another kiss before sliding off the bed, making her way out into the hall and upstairs to the bathroom. Harry followed after a moment, aiming a dirty glance toward Ron's room as he passed it on his way down the stairs. It was getting harder and harder to remember that Ron was supposed to be his friend.