Chapter 11

Hugs to AmyLouise, my beta! All money goes to JKR, WB, and Scholastic.

Chapter Eleven

If someone had told Draco two weeks ago that he would be standing in his fireplace with a handful of Floo powder ready to yell, "Harry Potter's flat!", he would have hexed the daft dolt. He couldn't believe he'd let Granger talk him into this, but his mum was worth whatever he had to endure.

As he felt the tickling pull start to suck him through the network, he tried to prepare for what was sure to be the most humiliating hour of his life. Well, except for sitting in the corner of the Great Hall after Potter finally ended the war, feeling the hatred or pity in every eye glancing his way.

Suddenly, they were there, and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, running up to Ginny and Harry for heartfelt hugs. Absolutely disgusting. Draco lagged behind, not really sure what to do. He took the opportunity to look at Hermione's perfect body from behind and then around the flat. Small, clean, and cozy. He knew Potter could afford more, but he was always so sickeningly content. He probably gave most of his money away, the saintly git.

All too soon, the lovefest broke apart, and everyone turned to look at Draco. Everything sort of froze for a second, but then Potter smiled and walked up to Draco with his hand outstretched. "Come on in, Malfoy."

"Thank you." Draco shook Potter's hand and stepped inside, and he noticed Hermione's annoyingly satisfied grin.

"Hey, Draco," greeted Ginny, gesturing to the couch. "Come sit. Can I get you guys anything to drink? We were just having some spiked pumpkin juice ourselves," she said, flashing Harry a wicked smile.

Draco was game for anything which included spiking at the moment, so he answered with, "That sounds great, thanks."

Hermione added, "Extra spikes in mine, please." She walked over to the couch, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him along. He tried to ignore the subtle tingle running up his arm and how it spread throughout his body and into his penis when she sat closer to him than he would have thought she'd dare in front of her friends.

"So, Malfoy, I hear you didn't exactly have sweet dreams last night." Potter was sitting in the chair adjacent to the couch, looking at him with what seemed like actual concern. How fucking annoying.

Hermione noticed him scowling and hesitating to answer, so she gave him a pointed look which obviously meant, "Don't be a prick and do start talking."

"Uh, yeah. You could say that."

"Here's the magic pumpkin juice." Ginny walked in, handing over the drinks and perching on the arm of Potter's burgundy upholstered chair, which was oversized and puffy just like the matching couch. Studying her guests, she cocked her head a little, shifting her eyes back and forth. She definitely noticed the proximity. Hermione downed her drink, getting a look of bewilderment from Ginny, and Draco started to drink up, too. Maybe he would feel a bit less awkward about Weasel Woman's line of thought with some alcohol in his veins.

"Before you tell me about the dream, Malfoy, I just want you to know that Hermione made it clear that you wish for your situation to remain private. We have no intention of repeating anything you say," Potter stated, putting his hand on Ginny's knee.

Potter's nobility nearly made Draco sick, but he was relieved that Hermione hadn't forgotten that detail when she was Flooing back and forth, trying to straighten things with Ginny (who apparently blamed Ron for everything, which showed she must have taken after some rogue un-Weasleyish person in her ancestry).

Apparently the she-weasel had also been shocked that Hermione was under the same roof as Pansy Malfoy, and rather indignant that Draco's wife was such a bitch that he would need to hire someone to help him with whatever his emergency happened to be. Obviously, he had given Hermione permission to let the Potters know about his divorce. Draco knew he could trust Potter, even if he couldn't stand him.

"I appreciate the discretion. My mother's safety is at stake here, so I have to make sure I don't make any damning moves."

"Your mum is in danger?" Ginny asked, looking at him with the sincere concern of a true Gryffindor. Something in him finally noticed he shouldn't be irked by this. Maybe it was that the concern was directed at his mother instead of him.

Draco let out a shaky breath. "I hope you have time for a long story."

He proceeded to tell them about the picture, hiring Pendington, and the research he and Hermione had done so far. As he described the Death Faeries, he could see the Potters visibly pale, Ginny sprouting a disconcerting pallor.

When he began to relay his most recent meeting with Charles, he realized the "kissing incident" had kept him from telling Hermione, so she was hearing this for the first time, too. For the only time in his life, he actually cared that she was about to be upset.

As he came near the end of Pendington's story about his grandmother, Hermione predictably gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. Draco almost forgot himself and put his hand on her leg to comfort her, but he caught himself just in time. He just glanced into her eyes and hoped she could see that he wanted to soothe her.

No one voiced a word for several seconds, and, despite this afternoon's pleasant distractions, the panic of his mother's situation flooded through Draco's defenses again. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, guilty at having lost focus even for a few hours. Potter's stunned silence scared him even more, and the intensity in the room was enough to make Draco despair.

Ginny suddenly rose up, collected the glasses, and marched straight to the kitchen to pour another round of drinks. She obviously needed a moment.

After chugging a second calming draught, he finally began to impart his nightmare. When Draco confessed his frantic need to find this cursed place, Potter's whole demeanor changed. It was apparent that he was taking this very seriously, and he didn't think Draco was crazy at all. He furrowed his brows for a second, as if he were morphing into Harry the Hero. If the situation weren't so grave, it would have been comical. Compassion from Potter was just another reason for Draco to want to bolt from the room, but since some of the compassion was about his mum, he restrained himself and tried to remain open to the help.

If Harry hadn't been observing Malfoy himself, he would have advised Hermione to do anything but trust him. However, he found himself oddly connected to Malfoy, both sharing the trauma of facing seemingly impossible obstacles but feeling compelled nonetheless by honor or love.

"I can't tell you that I know the answer, Malfoy, but Ginny and I will do anything we can to help. From my experience, dreams that mimic the feel of reality should not be ignored, so I think we should start searching for that chapel...now. Did you recognize anything about the place or the girl?"

"That's just it. Her expressions reminded me of the worst people I've known, but I didn't recognize her at all. The place just seemed completely random, except that we know it's in a wood. So... you think my feelings are seriously a sign?"

"It can't hurt for us to overreact. Even if it was just a nightmare, there's no harm in searching."

"What about the severe waste of time? There must be millions of wooded areas in the wizarding world alone, and we cannot assume this location is anywhere in the vicinity. What if I am being sent on an endless chase just to crush any possibility of rescue?"

"I know what you mean, but I have a feeling this person wants you to find her. Why would she have sent the picture if she didn't want to lure you into something? To be safe, though, we should at least try to narrow down some possible sites."

"How can we possibly know how to narrow sites, Harry? There is nothing recognizable about anything in Draco's dream."

Ginny jerked slightly at hearing Hermione use Draco's name, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Maybe we don't try to match places with the visual descriptions of the dream. Maybe we try to figure out the locations of burial grounds used by witches and wizards. That still leaves us with thousands of possibilities, but not all cemeteries are nestled in woods."

"Brilliant, Gin!" praised Harry enthusiastically. Draco thought his celebration a bit premature, but at least they were getting somewhere.

"It's a clever start, at any rate," added Hermione.

"I say we get to the library right away, then. Once we have a list of areas to search, we could split up and use our Patronuses to keep each other informed. It will be twice as fast that way."

There was an immediate springing into action, Hermione walking to the fireplace and Harry and Ginny grabbing their wands, some parchment, and a quill.

Draco almost started squirming with awkward feelings. He knew Potter had no reason to care about him or his mother, but he was willing to put his life on the line once again, even though he had obviously been shaken by the idea of Death Faeries. Up to now, Potter's compassion pretty much pissed him off, and he had hated Potter for coming off as some sort of selfless savior while he enjoyed accolades and near worship. However, there was no glory in this for Potter since no one else was going to know about it. He was just as confusing as Hermione.

Draco knew deep down that maybe he had really just been jealous and seeing Potter through his Slytherin eyes all this time, expecting him to love glory and fame like Draco would. He had to shake this line of thought before he actually admitted to himself that Potter might not be the attention-seeking bastard Draco thought he was. Luckily, a rap at the window interrupted his inner counseling session.

Ginny handed the materials to Harry and went to the window, lifting up the sash to greet the tawny owl. She untied the rolled parchment and sent the bird on his way with a treat. When she turned around, Draco noticed that the parchment bore the official seal of the Ministry of Magic.