Harry Potter and the Half-blood Princess
by dentedsky
Rated PG, Harry/Draco
Your moment will run out
Because of your sex chromosome
I know it's so messed up how our society all thinks
Life is short, you're capable
LOOK AT YOUR WATCH NOW!
YOU'RE STILL A SUPER HOT FEMALE!
- “What You Waiting For?” - Gwen Stefani
It was a day of Destiny, where the clouds were grey and threatening rain, but the sun still managed to shine through to light upon the Chosen Ones, and in the distance lightning flash and thunder rolled. It was the kind of weather that said, Things shall happen today, I know about it and you don’t, ner-ni-ner-ni-ner-ner, boom boom boom.
Malfoy Manor was under siege. The Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore’s Army had infiltrated the current home of the Dark Lord, with the element of surprise on their side. And boy, were they surprised. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were in the middle of the ceremony of marriage, though the side of the Light had not known this at the time. It was fortunate, though, because it meant that all the members of Dark were all crammed into one room, sipping champaign and making small-talk.
Soon enough they had spread out through the elaborate labyrinth of the castle, casting curses this way and that, and doing the kind of fighting they could manage when a war was raged in someone’s home.
It was a day for heroes. One particular hero stood on the highest tower, surveying the surrounding lands for people to rescue, as heroes are wont to do. The weather noticed him, and on cue, thunder roared, lightning struck behind him and the sun beamed down on his position, as if the God’s themselves were particularly happy to see him.
His name was Harry Potter. It wasn’t a very hero-ish name, he conceded, like Conan or Aragorn. But then, Harry was a very peculiar kind. Just like he was an almost-man, Harry was more an almost-hero. He had yet to learn the way to dress like one, instead wearing boring clothes like brown corduroy trousers and a blue jumper over an equally boring faded T-shirt. Mind, he had jet black hair and a nice strong jaw and a glare that made the strongest of men quiver like jelly, but there was one part of him the Gods really wished he would fix.
Those bloody glasses.
They were the kind of glasses that made him look like a very surprised owl. They were kind of glasses that made a boy of seventeen look like an awkward nerd whose nose was red and sore from being stuck in books all day long.
At least, Destiny thought dubiously, he was holding a nice big eff-off sword.
Harry determinedly jumped off the tower onto a lower building. Through the dome windows he could see into the Malfoy Ball Room, where Lord Voldemort was still hanging around, with three of Death Eaters at his command.
Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed in irritation at his servants. “Find her,” he hissed. “She is to be my bride, today!”
Harry considered breaking a window and jumping in to destroy Voldemort then and there. But a part of his mind, possibly a part where Patience comes from, told him to wait. His instinct also mentioned quickly that it was not the right time to go barging in waving his sword. You’ll get your chance yet, lad, it said.
The Death Eaters bowed obediently, and scurried away.
Quite suddenly, Harry heard a girl scream.
His ears perked up immediately, and he ran towards the sound, jumping over walls and running over stone roofs. It is common knowledge that heroes love a damsel in distress. In fact, Harry had been rescuing damsels in distress since he was twelve when Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. He ran to one wall and looked over the edge into a little courtyard.
There was a blonde woman in the middle of the courtyard, being accosted by three big, manly Death Eaters. She was, indeed, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen: thin, grey-eyed and silver-blonde hair in a blow-wave hair-do, locks cascading over her skinny shoulders.
She looked up then and noticed him staring. She opened her mouth and her voice was a sneering, whiny, nasal screech that quite disturbed the whole scene. “Potter!” she snapped. “Rescue me already, you poor excuse for a wizard! Why’s your mouth open like that, catching blow-flies, are you?”
Her assailants looked up too, and Harry scowled, jumping down, wand raised threateningly in one hand and Godric Gryffindor’s sword in the other. He cast Stupify on one man, but he dodged, and it instead hit his friend behind him, who was holding the girl. He dropped with a surprised “ugh!”
“Come now, Scarhead,” the girl drawled as she examined her perfectly manicured nails. She was the kind of girl who, despite having just been grabbed by a bunch of men and being chased around a castle for half the day, still managed to look absolutely perfect, against the laws of physics. “You can do better than a stunning charm, can’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be some wonderful hero destined to destroy evil? Destroy it already! I haven’t got all day you know; places to go, things to do, people to see…”
In the meantime, Harry was dueling with one Death Eater with swords, while he cast curses at the other man. It was exhausting work but the teenaged boy in Harry really wanted to show off for the Veela-like girl.
Finally, she gave an impatient sigh. “Alright,” she said, “I’ve seen enough.” And she walked briskly over to the Death Eater with the sword, and did a movement with her arm that was too quick for Harry see. Her hand appeared briefly near his neck and he gave a shocked cough, and folded in on himself. Before he hit the ground, however, her smooth pale leg appeared out from the confines of her pretty white dress, and kicked up, connecting with the other Death Eater’s neck. Blood gushed from his jugular as the girl’s stiletto heel was pulled out with a slick pop.
Harry gaped at her as she smoothed down the layers of her obviously expensive gown. She put her hands on her hips and gave him a withering look. “So?” she demanded impatiently. Harry shut his mouth. “Aren’t you going to whisk me away into the air now, or something? There’s more of those bad men around waiting to nab me, you know.”
Harry pulled himself together. “Right,” he said, “right.” He cupped his hands over his mouth, turned away and called, “SNAPE! MOONY! PADFOOT!”
There was rustling in the bushes. A shy furry snout poked itself from around the tree, sniffed the air, then retreated. When it came out again it was followed by a ginger-haired body, with some floppy hairy black lump curled on top of its back. A second later a large dragon flew into their line of sight, and with a woop-woop of flapping black wings, it touched down next to Harry.
“Come on,” Harry urged desperately to the girl, grabbing her arm, “up you go.”
She shook him off with a sneer. “I can get on myself, thank you very much.”
They ended up on the back of the black dragon, with Harry holding the wolf in his arms and the girl pressed against his back. The dragon crouched, then bounded into the air.
*
On a nearby hill, concealed by thick trees, two lonely figures watched them leave.
“So,” said the Red One, clicking her tongue, “that’s about it, then.”
“They will be taken into the Darkness,” said the Yellow One serenely, “and slain by the Immortals, who dwell along the edge of the Marshes.”
“Oh,” said Red, “bummer.”
“But there is hope yet,” Yellow continued with a smile. “Love shall conquer.”
Red considered this. She was good at considering her friend; it was best not take anything she said at face value, but to think on it and wait for your mind to process. Yellow’s thoughts were like the diamond in the rough - full of crap but truthful at the same time. Red asked her, “How do you know this?”
“It’s written in a book,” Yellow answered unabashedly.
Ah, thought the Red One, I should have known. Bloody Ravenclaws. “Which one?”
“The Tale of the Half-blood Princess.” Yellow gave a happy little sigh.
Red rolled her brown eyes. “Oh, that.” It was an old story, a fable from the wizarding culture, told to little witches by their mothers at bedtime. It told the story of a prince who fell in love with a beautiful woman and murdered her lover. Red did some more considering. “But I thought it was called ‘The Tale of the Half-blood Prince’, not ‘Princess’.”
“Real life is but a dream, yet not a fairy-tale,” said Yellow enigmatically.
“Uh-huh. Anyway, let’s follow them.”
Yellow turned her large blue eyes onto Red. “Follow them to the Treasure of Destruction?”
Red picked up their brooms. “Yup.”
*
They flew into the daylight, the girl clutching hard at Harry even though her expression showed tight-lipped indifference. If this story were to be adapted to a movie, the scene would look like this: two people riding a beautiful black dragon, its wings flapping in slow motion while clouds sped past them. Their hair and clothes would be rustling in the wind slowly and lovingly, and the boy’s expression would be that of determination. Perhaps, in the background, nameless birds would fly with them, like dolphins follow a ship. There would be music: something sweet with a lot of violins, plenty of low drumming, with a melody sung by a woman in a foreign language that sounded a lot like, “laaaaa di dummm hooo laaaaaa!”
They landed in a forest clearing, finally, and the girl stumbled off with as much grace as she could manage. She turned and gave Harry a full-blown glare.
At that very moment, Harry swore she looked exactly like Draco Malfoy, who would often glare at Harry for absolutely no reason except he felt like it. On instinct, he glared back, no longer feeling at all hospitable. Behind them, the animals wandered off to have a look around.
“So…” said Harry. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
Some of her composure slipped at his abrupt demands. She hesitated. “My name is…” she glanced around. “It’s, um, Draco - er - nia.”
Harry squinted, hands on his hips. “Dracernia?” he asked dubiously. It sounded to him like some kind of foot disease.
“No,” she snapped, “It’s Draconia. Draconia Malfoy.”
Harry snapped to attention. “Malfoy? As if in Draco and Lucius Malfoy? Are you related to Draco?”
Draconia gave a small smile. “Um, yes, as a matter of fact. He’s my, um, brother. I go to Durmstrang,” she added hurriedly.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked slowly. “Because I saw this family tapestry once, of most of the pure-blood families, and it had Draco’s name on it, but not yours.”
“Ha. Ha. Did I say ‘brother’? Ha, no, I’m his cousin. Long lost cousin, that is. Brother, ha!”
“Right,” said Harry. “Okay, so why’d you want to run away, then?” He gesticulated. “What was all the commotion with the Death Eaters?”
Draconia twisted her lips and examined her fingernails, bored. “Oh well, you know. It happens to the best of us princesses. My parents marrying me off to some evil Dark Lord and a big manly hero rescuing me.” She looked up at him. “Something obviously went terribly wrong there.”
Harry rolled his eyes, and walked around, examining the clearing. “We better set up camp; it’ll be dark soon.”
“Gee,” Draconia drawled to herself, “how did I know he was going to say that?”
Harry strutted to Snape the dragon, who was lazing in the dying sun. He opened one black eye and glared at Harry as he unhooked the packs strapped to Snape’s back. Harry busied himself with setting up the wizarding tent (small on the outside, one bedroom cottage with en suite and kitchen on the inside; with complimentary blow-up house elf (just pull the tag!) …) and lighting a fire.
“I say!” Draconia exclaimed suddenly, pointing up to the top of a large tree. “Who goes there?”
From far up above, someone could be heard clearing their throat. Harry stopped to squint into the sunshine with Draconia. “EyE Amm The LizArd Queeeeen!” It was supposed to have been intimidating, Harry supposed, but the voice was muffled by the wind.
“And I’m a fire demon,” said another voice from above, much more unenthusiastically. “Fear me. If you dare. Really. Do.”
Harry squinted harder, mouth hanging open. “Ginny?” he asked. “Is that you?”
There was a pause and then: “Er, no Harry. I’m a fire demon, actually. Do I scare you? How about if I woo? Like this, listen: WOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOO - AAAAARRRGHHHHHH!”
There was some rustling of leaves and then Ginny was falling in a flurry of red hair and freckled limbs. She fell with a thump and a canine yelp, landing hard on poor old Moony the wolf. Harry ran over and helped her up.
Luna Lovegood floated down from above with a well practiced Wingardium Leviosa. With Harry preoccupied, she walked over to Draconia instead, who was sneering, her nostrils flaring in irritation. “Your ancient scroll will flair in uncertain lands.” And then she gave Draconia a very creepy smile.
Draconia narrowed her eyes. “Are you coming on to me?”
Ginny took a big breath, holding out her hand for Harry to stop fussing over her. “Okay, wait, Harry. What’s with the animals?”
“Because I’m not like that,” Draconia continued from a few metres away, “I’m not a lesbian. I like men. Particularly dark-haired men with rippling muscles.”
“It’s all Voldemort’s fault,” Harry fumed, while Ginny winced at the use of the Dark Lord’s name. “Voldemort (wince) made them that way! What was I supposed to do? I HATE Voldemort (wince), you have no idea how much I hate Voldemort (wince). Voldemort (wince) is evil. EVIL!”
“Men who rescue damsels in distress every now and again,” Draconia sniffed. “Not that I’d like it for him to do it all the time! I mean, he would have to be completely and totally devoted to me. No buts about it. I’d be the envy of the Guild of Damsels in Distress!”
“Now calm down, Harry. Where did the animals come from?”
Luna blinked at Draconia serenely. “Oh but I rather like a breast or two. I am a fan of Xena and Gabrielle, this is true.”
“Voldemort (wince) turned them into animals for his sculpture gallery or whatever. But I rescued them. Just in the nick of time, of course.”
“What are you blathering on about? Xena? Who’s she?”
“That’s old Professor Lupin you just landed on,” said Harry, pointing to the wolf still lying in a crumpled heap on the ground. “And that’s Professor Snape, obviously. I thought about checking his bum to see if there really is a broomstick stuck up it but I thought better of it. I could be scarred again, emotionally, you know.”
“Television,” Luna explained patiently. “There’s an on button and you flick through channels using a remote. And there’s commercials - “
“And the dog’s Padfoot. He’s the reincarnation of Sirius.”
“No no, you’ve lost me already,” said Draconia with a flick of her hand. “Remote? Remote what? And how can you flick through channels? They’re hollow.”
“Oh Harry,” Ginny sighed sadly. “I don’t think Sirius is quite - OH MY GOD MALFOY!”
“Hm?” Draconia was snapped out her brief conversation by a very surprised Weasley, with a gaping hole where her mouth once was. “Yes? What do you want.”
Ginny looked her up and down rapidly several times. Finally she gasped, “You grew TITS!”
*
In the light of the dimming sunset, Lucius primly took out a piece of expensive parchment. He rolled it between his well-manicured hands, then held one end up to his eye, and swivelled his head around, squinting through the roll.
“No,” he said finally, lowering his paper, “nothing over here either.”
“I want chocolate,” Bellatrix snapped in reply. “I repeat, does anyone have any chocolate!”
“Nya nya,” Wormtail giggled. “Chocolate, nya.”
“I am Peee Emm Essing here, people,” continued Bellatrix. “I need chocolate. Like, now.”
They were ordered by the Dark Master himself to look for the princess and her cohorts. They followed their trail by smelling the air, looking around trees and following footprints, with no such luck. Somehow the werewolf was warding the party.
Lucius sighed. “It’s the bloody half-breed - “
“Nya, Moony, nya!”
“Yes him. Perhaps it’s time we stopped asking the birds and just use tracking spells, already.”
“CHOCOLATE!”
Lucius rummaged through his Death Eater robe pocket. “Will a tampon do?” he asked her, holding it out.
Bellatrix stared at it. “Well… yes. I suppose that might be better to stem the flow. Thank you.”
“Nya. Wait. What were you doing with a tampon in your pocket?”
*
Draconia snorted in her sleep and rolled over, flinging her arm over Harry and hitting him in the nose.
“Ouch,” whispered Harry quietly, still wide awake. Outside the nocturnal birds chirped and sung like a heavy waterfall of cascading sound. But that was not what kept him awake - it was Draconia.
Or rather, Draco.
After Ginny had accused her of being a - well, a ‘her’, she had taken Moony with her into the woods for a long walk by herself. “It’s You-Know-Who, as you say, Harry,” Ginny had said after Draco left, “he has this strange hobby of turning people into things. At first it was just his enemies - Professors Snape and Lupin, for example - but recently it has been his followers too.” She’d looked at him, tense. “It seems as if You-Know-Who had turned Malfoy into a girl!”
It had been dark when Draco had got back, and after a dinner of roasted bird on the fire, Draco had silently stolen some of Harry’s spare clothes and gone straight into the tent.
And now here they were, lying next to each other, with Luna and Ginny curled up together on the other side of Draco.
Harry could not stand much more of this. He stood up, kicked Draco in the ribs and walked outside.
“Ugh!” said Draco from inside. “What are you - ?” She came out and crossed her arms, glaring at Harry angrily. “Okay, fine,” Draco conceded, seeing Harry’s stubborn expression. “What do you want to know?”
Harry took a deep breath, and considered which of a million questions he should ask first. What’s it like? Do you miss your willy? Does it hurt to wear a bra? Instead he said, “Tell me everything.”
Draco sobered and bit her lip. Harry was suddenly caught with the sight of her shining eyes and hair in the moonlight, the soft chewing of her pink bottom lip with her white teeth, and her female form under loose t-shirt and boxer shorts. Even her knees and toes looked beautiful in the moonlight, he considered.
“There’s a legend,” Draco began softly, and Harry shook himself, “or rather a wizarding folk story. It’s about a half-blooded prince, who goes to the sacred land of Eden and finds a dark power there, and he destroys the bad guy with it, and in so doing frees his lover from the betrothal to the bad man, king, person.” Draco sighed. “It’s all very cute and pretty. It is said that only the half-blood prince can control this wild dark power, but first he must unlock it with his lover’s gentle kiss.” She made a face. “It’s a story for girls.”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek, and gestured for her to continue.
“It would not be considered seriously if it wasn’t for the prophecy.” She looked at him, chin held high. “There was a prophecy written about me. Do you want to see it?”
Harry was taken aback, and he swallowed, nodding.
She stepped forward towards him, and started to lift up her shirt.
Harry let out a chocked sound and quickly put his hands on her arms, halting her progress. “Don’t - “
“Don’t be a prat,” Draco whined at him. She turned around, flicking her hair away from her back, then pulled up her top. “It’s tattooed on my back.”
Harry gently angled Draco into the light of the moon and peered down at Draco’s bare skin. There indeed was an inscription in small, curvy writing, starting just under her shoulder blades, decorated around the edges in Gothic designs. He leaned his face forward more, his hair brushing against her, and he tried not to breathe on her too much.
He read it allowed, softly: “The one with the Power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
“Born to those who have thrice defied Him
“Born as the seventh month dies
“The Dark Lord will Mark him as his equal
“He will have Power the Dark Lord knows not
“Either must die at the hand of the other
“Neither can live while the other survives.”
Harry very, very slowly pulled himself upright, and just as Draco smoothed down her shirt and turned around, Harry snarled.
Draco looked momentarily surprised at Harry’s sudden fury, but it went away as quickly as Draco’s sneer appeared. “Oh great,” she said, “what now?”
“THAT’S NOT YOUR PROPHECY!” Harry shouted into her face.
Draco clenched her fists. Around them, birds squawked and a few could be heard flying away in sudden fright. “It is so my prophecy, Potter! Not everything can be yours!”
“IT’S NOT YOURS! IT’S MINE!”
“Just calm down, Potter, alright? No need to blow a fuse. Merlin knows you need as many as you can keep up there. Breathing now? Alright, fine, good. What do you want to know?”
Harry put his hands on his hips, mouth scrunched up into an indignant cat’s bum. “First things first,” he said, sentences clipped. “Dumbledore told me my parents thrice defied Voldemort.”
Draco too put her hands and her hips. “My parents too thrice defied Voldemort. It was on his fourth try that they finally gave in.”
Harry nodded, huffing and puffing like a bull about to run into a china shop. “Okay, fine. I was born as the seventh month dies, July thirty-first.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “Gosh, we have the same birthday!”
Harry loudly expelled a breath of air. “I was marked as his equal.” He pointed at his scar. “Were you?”
Draco once again took hold of the hem of her t-shirt and lifted up to show her flat belly. She looked at Harry smugly.
On the right side of her navel, about four inches long vertically, was another tattoo. This one was of a key, with a snake curled around it. She pulled her shirt down. “See? When I was a baby the Dark Lord tattooed my back with the prophecy, as it was the safest place to record it. And he marked me with a little design.” She leaned forward and gave him a thin-lipped smile. “It means I’ll be able to unlock the power held in Eden and use it. He marked me as a rite of ownership; he thinks that if he owns me he will in turn own the power only I can wield.” She straightened up, squaring her shoulders while Harry continued to glower. “But I have no such intention. I shall get the power and have it all to myself.”
Harry scoffed. “We don’t know if it even exists!”
Draco gave him a patronising look. “Oh it exists. Where do you think I’m taking you?”
Harry, in panic, waved his arms around in the air. “Wait, wait, wait! Some things just don’t add up. First, the legend says that the prince who can control the power is a half-blood. Not to mention the fact that Voldemort chose me and not Neville, because I’m half-blooded and he’s not. And you, as you’ve had no hesitation telling me before, are pure-blood.”
Draco sighed and shook her head. “No, it’s not necessarily true.” She looked at him. “I’m - wait - Longbottom was in the running for the prophecy? Longbottom?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Okay well as I was saying. There was an old Black family rumour, as you know my mother’s maiden name is Black, and the rumour was said that my mother was in fact Muggle-born and adopted. They think this because it is a Black trademark to have black hair and dark blue eyes. But there is something about my mother; she’s got light blue eyes and blonde hair, and she doesn’t quite look like the rest of the family; not to mention her name is named after a flower while everyone else’s names are taken from star constellations. Anyway, the rumour states that Nanny Elladora kidnapped Mum from an abusive Muggle family or some such. There were also experimental programs running at the time which involved the removal of Muggle-borns from their families and put into good wizarding - okay I’m sorry, ha, but Longbottom, seriously?”
“One more thing,” said Harry. “Voldemort tried desperately to get hold of this prophecy in our fifth year. Why would he go to such lengths to get a prophecy he had already tattooed on your backside?”
Draco’s eyes widened, almost prettily. “Sweet Merlin! That was that prophecy! My, imagine that; running after something you already have! Ha! Ha! What an idiot. And you wonder why I didn’t want to marry him and give him my powers!”
“I don’t wonder,” said Harry scathingly. “And if this legend is true, then it is my powers neither you nor Voldemort will be getting.”
“Yes yes.” Draco yawned. “Can I sleep now?”
Harry clenched his jaw and turned away, just as Draco started walking back to the tent.
She suddenly turned back. “But Potter, are you having me on?” Harry looked at her questioningly. “Longbottom?”
*
It took a warm day to walk through the magical Helathnofurie Woods; the canopies of large trees hid them from prying Death Eater eyes who might be scanning from above. While the children and Snape walked on one path, Moony split from them, taking a side path into denser area.
He came to a small waterhole, where many woodland animals of varying size were relaxing, washing and drinking. Many looked up at him, wary of the unknown wolf in their midst. Moony told them, I come in peace, and mean no harm.
A large scruffy hare hopped forward. Ehh, it said, munching on a carrot, what’s up, Doc?
I need your help. My friends are passing through to the Holy Garden, and are being pursued by Evil Doers. Could you please strengthen your magical wards for us?
A young deer came forward. What’s in it for us?
Your friends in the last territory did this for us, Moony told him truthfully. My friends are the ones to bring Light into the Dark places. Besides, if you don’t, I’ll eat you.
Don’t be a twat, said a fox, you can’t eat me!
Moony gave him a look.
Alright, man, chill, said a badger. No need to, like, make threats man… It’s not groovy, man.
Ehh, said the hare, we’ll do it for you, Doc. But only if you and your friends don’t eat us.
I’ll try, said Moony dubiously. Can’t make any promises, though. It’ll be worth your while in the end.
With a quick thanks, Moony turned and left. The animals gathered around the waterhole and summoned up the magic of their territory; the magic only the creatures of the Earth could summon, and allowed for the Good Doers to walk through unharmed and the Evil Doers no access. This magic will protect them all.
Back on the main path, Draco was thinking about last night, and Harry’s breath on her bare back and hands on her waist as he read the prophecy; Harry’s scent had lingered afterwards, and the thought of Harry’s hands, and his breath on Draco’s skin brought a strange flush of pleasure to her groin that she was, quite frankly, scared shitless of*. Meanwhile, she was also telling Harry haughtily about the area.
(*It is a well-known fact that wizards and witches know next to nothing about sex**. Many of them spend their lives running away from it in fright because magic can’t seem to control it like it can control everything else, and it is this fear which prevented their population numbers from growing. However, there are some wizard families who have discovered sex and have practiced it often, such as the Weasleys. They have yet to find out about contraception.)
(**They would teach it Hogwarts; however, the prestigious professors refuse to teach a subject they know nothing about.)
“It’s a magical land, you see, Muggles can’t get into it. We’re no longer on Malfoy property but I have been here before, exploring. This forest is called the Helathnofurie Woods; quite a dangerous place, actually,” she added with a sniff.
Harry was incredulous. “Hell-Hath-No-Fury Woods?”
“Ooh,” said Ginny, interrupting, “I’ve heard of this place. It’s dangerous. Apparently, it’s inhabited by the Lost Women, a group of Succubae, who kidnap wayward travelers, eating the men and keeping the women, or something like that.”
Harry scoffed and looked to Draco to share the joke, but Draco was nodding knowingly. “I’ve heard of that story too, of course; my mother used to tell it to me when I was a child, so I wouldn’t wander away from the Malfoy Estate. It’s not true, though.”
Ginny came up to Harry and whispered frightfully, “They’re called, The Mary-Shrooms!”
“Ohhhhhh…” said Harry, nodding, “Mary-Sues! I know them, there was one at school; she was so annoying - “
“No, Mary-Shrooms. These are far worse.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Impossible!”
“They’re not real!” Draco snapped. “It’s just a fairy story, like that Half-blood Prince legend. Anyway.” She turned back to Harry. “After these woods are the Medusa Marshes; they’re real trouble, we’ll have to fly. In the middle of the Marshes is this heavy cloud, like a thick fog, but in the centre of that is Treasure Island.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Treasure Island? There’s an actual island called Treasure Island?”
“Yes,” said Draco, offended. “Are you deaf or just thick? It’s a pretty boring name, if you ask me.”
They traveled like this into the twilight; Harry and Draco upfront bickering, with Ginny and Luna counting every tree trunk they passed by tapping them with sticks, and the animals trailing behind them.
Eventually Harry perked up. “Is that water I hear?”
Draco looked to her left. “There must be a stream,” she drawled unnecessarily.
“I’m going for a swim,” said Harry, striding off. The canines and the dragon followed him.
“Well,” said Ginny, the next Gryffindor-in-charge, “might as well take a rest, then we should set up camp.” She and Luna sat down and took out their water flasks. But Draco would not sit down; she was looking around, alert.
“What’s the matter, Your Majesty?” asked Luna with a smile. Ginny snickered.
Draco murmured, “Something doesn’t feel right… the trees look different… Didn’t any of you notice?” she added with a snarl.
Luna was unfazed. “It appears the territories have changed. We may no longer be protected by the little fury animals.”
As if on cue, there was a suspicious rustling in the bushes behind the sitting girls. Draco’s head snapped up, hands on her hips. The two other girls too stood up, wands out.
And in a split second they were accosted by three Death Eaters, all coming from different directions. The tallest one came for Draco and she got into combat mode, kicking and slapping him with lightning fast movements. In the meantime Ginny had cast Stupify on one, and Luna had abandoned her wand for jabbing the other Death Eater in the nuts with a big stick.
But they had managed to recover quickly, and were now chasing the two girls away into the forest. Just in front of them was an incongruous brick wall covered in mould. Luna, who was running just in front of Ginny, ran into it and disappeared.
“Gah!” said Ginny in shock.
But the Death Eaters were fast approaching, so she took a deep breath and plunged into the magical wall.
Wormtail and Bellatrix stopped just in front of it. “Nya, nya,” laughed Wormtail, “they are doomed. DOOMED!”
“Well I’m definitely not going in there,” said Bellatrix with a smirk. “And they aren’t ever coming out.” The two of them disapparated.
Meanwhile, the remaining Death Eater had managed to get Draco’s hands behind her back and was whispering into her ear while she kicked and screamed.
“Come back with me, Draco. Your mother misses you. She’s just made some fresh marzipan cakes, your favourite!”
Draco stopped squirming. “Father?” she hissed quickly. “I’m not going back to marry some one hundred year old snake!”
“But you have to, Draco. Come on, it’s not so bad; Narcissa even said you can steal her make-up and dresses again, and she promises not to get mad this time.”
“You can’t make me; you’re not the boss of me!”
“Incendio!”
It was from behind them. Lucius’s robes caught on fire and he let go of Draco, squealing, and spun around and around trying to douse the fire on the back of his robes. Finally, he ran away and disappeared into the trees.
Harry had grabbed Draco and was holding her in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked her breathlessly.
Potter was cold, and wet, and - oh my God, thought Draco, heart beating rapidly - naked. She made a face and pushed him away. “Piss off, Potter, I’m fine!”
Fortunately, he was still wearing dark underwear. But Draco could not help but notice the beading of water on his tanned, muscled torso and the strange, panicked look in his beautiful green eyes. Not to mention those fabulous thunder-thighs…
Draco shook herself and tore her eyes away from Harry’s panting figure. “Where is everyone?”
Potter too, looked around. “I don’t know, I thought you knew.”
“Oh just great Potter, you lost them! Trust you.”
A rather damp Moony came up and nudged Harry’s hand with his snout. The wolf then turned around, pointing at the forest with a paw.
“He wants us to follow him,” Harry told Draco unnecessarily. “Hang on Moony, let me get dressed.”
Minutes later they were following the wolf through the woods. They eventually stopped in front of a plain brick wall covered in mould and vines, about three metres in length. “How strange,” Harry murmured, putting his hand forward to touch the wall, only to have his hand disappear through it as if it was liquid. He pulled his hand back sharply with a gasp.
“It’s like the entrance to Platform nine and three quarters,” said Draco snootily. She gave Moony a soft kick. “Did they go through here, Mutt?”
Moony answered by placidly walking into the wall.
Harry shrugged and gave Draco a resigned look. “Let’s just go in. Shall we?” He held out his hand.
Draco hesitated, and then took it.
To be continued in Part 2