Unofficial Portkey Archive

CHAPTER 3: Silver and Gold

Harry woke up on his desk and groaned at the idiocy of it all. What is wrong with me, I'm a damned wizard, I can apparate home in a snap but here I am with a sore neck and a puddle of drool on my work.

He sat up and his neck cracked so loudly he flinched. He was letting things slide out of control and he knew it. Missing out on sleep wasn't exactly going to rectify that. What he wouldn't give for even one of the father figures in his life to still be alive to give him a pep talk. Well... one of his good, wise father figures. Vernon Dursley was probably still alive but he was hardly a reliable source of family affection. The thought of showing up at the Dursley's new residence and asking Vernon to pat his back and tell him how to deal with a growing issue of insanity was so absurd Harry nearly laughed out loud. He really was overly tired.

There was a knock on his door and an uncharacteristically sheepish O'Rourke entered, not quite meeting his eye as she reported that she had sent the junior aurors home to sleep, and their studies had revealed nothing useful about werewolf fangs. "They were all but falling asleep sitting up" she laughed, slowly easing into her normal nature. "But we don't need them anyways. I think I found out what we need to know."

"Oh?" Harry asked, glancing through bleary eyes at the clock, which read 6 AM. He could barely focus on her words; he was so tired the world was slightly vibrating around him in a dizzying way.

"Yes" she sighed, blatantly annoyed by his drowsiness. "There is only one known use for werewolf fangs, and that is a potion which allows one to see into the memories of the werewolf. It's like creating a pensieve, only the memories aren't given willingly. The fangs of the werewolf are practically a part of its soul, hence the removal of said fangs is known to be excruciating."

"Why would someone want to see Greyback's memories?" Harry wondered, closing his eyes again, the pain burning beneath his lids.

"I don't know, nor do I think that's the pertinent question at this time. What's important, is finding out who did it. Then we can ascertain the why." O'Rourke's conceited swagger was returning, but Harry didn't notice, merely nodding as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked.

"Yes, I think, a little."

"On your desk?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, don't badger me" he said grumpily. "You sound like Hermione right now."

"Well I did spend most of the night with her, how do you think I found out about the fangs?"

"What?!"

"I spent most of the night with her" O'Rourke repeated. "It didn't start off as romantic, but sometimes something so wrong can feel so right, and an innocent night of auror duty turned into a night of fiery passion..."

Harry ignored her playful banter. "I thought I told you not to bring her into this."

"You don't tell me what to do Potter" she snapped, suddenly icy. "I know you think you're the world's last hero, but news flash, she doesn't need a knight in shining armor and even if she did you're not him. Look at you, you're a mess."

She expected Harry to react with indignation and hostility. She was quite sure he would demand she get out of his office and brood in her presence for the next week or so. Instead he was quiet; but it wasn't an angry sort of quiet. It was a sadness that suddenly made the room feel colder. Or maybe the room really was growing colder... Harry was a powerful wizard in ways that few could understand.

"You're right," he finally said, brushing a stray hair from his emerald green eyes. He suddenly busied himself tidying up his desk, and in that moment O'Rourke saw a different side of him than she had ever known in their time working on cases. He looked vulnerable, innocent, and even childish for a brief moment. The image he preserved as steel nerved and confident wavered for a moment and then it was back in a flash. "What do we do now?"

"Hermione told me that the potion which would have to be brewed in order to see Greyback's memories would require some very rare and difficult to obtain ingredients. She is owling a list to the office today. We will have to find out if any of those ingredients have been purchased recently. If we can find out by whom, we can find the culprit behind these crimes."

"If they even are crimes" Harry said distantly. "Is it really wrong to kill Death Eaters? I mean…after all they did… the lives they ruined, the cowardice they hid behind…crawling around in the dark, destroying families!" The volume of his voice his escalated and as it did there was a trembling violence in his voice that she had never heard before. She has seen him kill people, had seen him fight with tremendous ferocity and skill, but never had she seen him become violent in a primal and uncontrolled way. She did not like it. Not one bit.

"I think you need to get some rest" she commented, surprised to hear her own voice falter. Was she scared? Damn straight I'm scared she realized. I'm in a small, enclosed space with one of the most powerful wizards alive and he's gone mental.

If she was worried about his sanity, he only solidified it by responding to her comment with a twisted smile, unlike any expression she had ever seen on his face (and she had seen many of his expressions, between their challenging work environment and history as lovers). His eyes seemed to flicker, as if for a moment, someone else was looking through them with pure malice. Malice, yes she found herself thinking, but it's a joyful malice.

Then, just as suddenly as she had seen it, it was gone again, and he apparated away with a loud crack.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Hermione awoke with a violent reminder of why she didn't often drink heavily. What a hangover she lamented, pressing her eyes closed to avoid the offending sunlight creeping through her blinds.

"Oi, about time you woke up!" grumbled a booming voice that she immediately recognized.

I'm not hungover, I'm delirious she thought. That's the only explanation for why Ronald Weasley is in my bedroom.

"I like what you've done with the place" his voice announced as she threw a pillow over her face. Even through the muffling effect of the feathers she could clearly hear his raspy voice chat away. "I know I'm no interior designer, but since I had my flat redone, I like to think I've gotten a bit of an eye for colors, and this is nice. A bit girly... but then you are a girl... I mean, I know you're a girl from personal experience and all... ahem..."

His voice trailed off awkwardly. Why is it that even in my delusional dreams Ron is so damned strange? It wasn't until the pillow was being pried from her face that she realized that it wasn't a dream and her ex-boyfriend/best friend was in fact in her bedroom.

"You really need to get up or you'll be late for work" Ron sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed. He had such a peculiar manner, even since they were children. He could be boastful and attention needy, but most often he was insecure and awkward, always putting his foot in his mouth. At one time she had found this endearing about him, but it also turned out to be one of the most infuriating issues in their relationship.

"I can't believe you're waking me up for work" she groaned, trying to fight him as he attempted to pry the pillow away from her. "What are you even doing up this early? Don't you have some vapid model to be escorting from your bed to breakfast?"

"You think so little of me Hermione," he said, shaking his head, but there was humor in his tone. "I thought you knew me better than anyone else."

"I DO" she insisted "which is why I'm very confused why you are up before noon."

"I was worried about you," he admitted, turning his back as she finally rose from bed to face the day.

"Oh, so Harry visited you then" she sighed.

"Why do you have to assume it has to do with Harry?" he asked, confounded. "I know we didn't work out romantically, but you are very important to me, I love you you know."

She could hear the hurt in his voice and so she took a gentler approach. She had learned after many years that you could not fight fire with fire when it came to Ron Weasley. "I know Ron, and I appreciate you being here. It's just hardly likely that you would know I was in trouble if Harry hadn't informed you."

"Oh" he paused. "That's right I suppose. Well, why didn't you inform me yourself? We're supposed to be best friends and I hardly even hear from you these days!"

"The owls go both ways Ronald Weasley!" she defended, their old bickering ways quickly rising to the surface. She took a deep breath, trying to act the part of adult. "It is good to see you though. It has been a strange week." That's the understatement of the year she thought, remembering the previous night with a wave of nausea.

O'Rourke had been so convinced that Harry had this major crush on Hermione. No, more than a crush... O'Rourke was convinced that Harry that he was in love with his best friend. But that's ridiculous. If he had those types of feelings I certainly would have noticed. He's like a... well not a brother to me, but something of that sort. I mean, we've known each other since we were so young, it's nearly impossible to think of him in a romantic way...

"Earth to Hermione!" Ron shouted, obnoxiously waving his hands in front of her unblinking eyes. "I'll leave you to get dressed and ready, but I am going to the Ministry with you for the day, and don't argue with me about it."

"Ron, you can't! I have so much work to do, there is a matter of squib rights that I am in the middle of arguing within the Ministry, not to mention the ongoing issue with the giants..."

"Hermione!" Ron interrupted. "You have received a death threat and from what I gather from Harry there is something very dangerous afoot, and you need to take this seriously!"

"Did you just say `afoot'?" Hermione inquired innocently.

"You're just trying to take the piss out of me" Ron grumbled angrily. "I promised Harry I would keep an eye on you, and I intend to do just that."

"I appreciate that Ron, but you and Harry are honestly too much. I already have around the clock auror surveillance, and might I remind you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I know, I know, you're the most brilliant witch in ages. But maybe you should think about how Harry feels..."

"How Harry feels?? How HARRY feels?" Hermione shrieked indignantly. "I would have no idea how Harry feels, because he hasn't been explaining anything to me whatsoever. All I get are cryptic half answers about how he isn't safe to be around, and I don't have the slightest idea of what is going on with him..." she stopped suddenly, realizing with annoyance that she might cry and Ron embraced her in a hug, awkwardly patting her back.

"He'll be fine, he's Harry Potter!"

"Yes" Hermione sniffed. "But I'm afraid that that's what might kill him in the end."

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

There are some magics, so difficult and ancient that they were nearly lost to the years. Some magics, which even the great wizards of our history hadn't the slightest idea about. These magics, these are what will make me beyond immortal, and greater than legend. Mastering these magics will make me a God.

Draco Malfoy awoke violently from his nightmares. It was more than a nightmare; it was a memory that he was dreaming of, but the memory was not his own. The voice he had heard in his sleep had spoken with a silky eloquence, and the similarity to his own voice was almost chilling. He pushed back the soft sheets of his four-post bed and his bare feet delicately touched the icy cold marble floors. He padded across the room to the massive windows where black velvet curtains hung heavily, obstructing the view.

He pulled the curtains back to look outside, as though doing so might help clear the cobwebs from his own mind. The gardens of Malfoy Manor were falling into ruin without the House Elves. His mother would have been greatly disappointed in him for letting the acres of beautiful land fall apart to the wild. It hardly matters what mother would think. She's dead now.

That realization left him feeling even more cold and empty. Grey clouds had gathered over the Manor with the promise of rain and he suddenly had the urge to build a large fire in the hearth, wrap himself in a quilt and spend the day sleeping. But he had to deny himself such niceties, especially since the night before had left him with even more questions than answers.

I'm not sure if this path I'm taking leads to salvation or further towards insanity he thought with a heavy heart, turning from the window and back into his cold, dark chambers. As a child he had shown ignorant indulgence, and as a young man had been a coward. He doubted if he could ever really hope for any form of salvation. Still, he had people to seek if he was going to find the answers to the questions that still ate at him relentlessly.

No rest for the wicked he thought, opening his armoire and dressing for the tasks that lay ahead.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

By nightfall Hermione had gotten more than a little sick of having Ron as her shadow. He was easily distracted into fussing around with things, and he would pace around sighing until she would tell him he was free to go and then he would quickly sit down and tell her he was quite fine where he was.

"Honestly Hermione, I don't know how you stand such boring work!" Ron yawned as they exited down the dark corridors of the Ministry of Magic. It was strange to think of all that had happened here not so long ago with the rise of the Dark Lord, but Hermione turned her mind from this as they approached the floo hub.

"You may find it boring Ron, but I am quite sure that those afflicted by these injustices do not find it dull at all."

"I know, I know" he responded, hurriedly waving his hand. "It's important work really, and I don't think anyone could handle it the way you have. My Dad is always raving about the different measures you have instituted single handedly that so many Ministers couldn't even dream of accomplishing...He's quite sure you will be the next Minister of Magic."

"Oh I hope not" Hermione laughed dryly, and in a flash of green flames they were both back at her house. "You're not going to sleep over are you?" she asked without pretense.

"What? Why not?" Ron exclaimed, "You let Harry sleep over all the time!"

"That's because he bought the house for me, if you'll recall. It's really his house if anything."

"Hmm, fair enough" Ron smiled, sticking his tongue out at her in a childish gesture. "But no, I wasn't going to sleep over. That's what Ginny is for!" Almost immediately after he announced this, his redheaded sister came bouncing out of the hearth and landed right beside them.

"Well how's that for timing!" Ron exclaimed triumphantly.

"Are you two psychic?" Hermione teased.

"It's a Weasley thing" Ginny shrugged.

"You really don't need to do this Ginny" Hermione urged.

"Yes, I do" the youngest Weasley persisted easily. "First of all, Ron explained to me what's been happening, and it's the least I can do to put his and Harry's minds at ease. Second... what kind of friend would I be if I subjected you to more time with my brother?"

"Hey! I'm still here!" Ron objected, but he was smiling. Seeing his sister almost always put him in a good mood. Unless of course, it was one of those occasions where Ginny teamed up with her mother to nag him about his choice in women. Not that Ginny was much better in the array of men she dated, a topic which the two girls quickly found themselves on after Ron departed.

"Are you dating Seamus Finnegan these days?" Hermione asked, dramatically slamming the alcohol cupboard closed with disgust and scrounging for some dinner. "I saw you dancing with him the other night."

"Seamus? God no, he tried to kiss me though and it was terribly awkward. He's really not my type at all."

"I wasn't aware you had a type" Hermione retorted.

"I suppose you got me there" Ginny responded, rolling her eyes. "I always thought that me and Harry would end up married and wildly in love, but that never happened. Not that I'm complaining, I don't think I'm really in love with him anymore, if I ever was. Mostly, I don't think Harry has room in his life for my silly romantic notions."

"Harry doesn't have time for much of anything these days" Hermione agreed sadly, remembering again the haunted look in his eyes when they had last parted.

"But no, there's no chemistry there with Seamus. He's a nice boy though."

"Ah, so that's your problem. He's too nice" Hermione divined with a smirk.

"That is so not true!" Ginny gasped. "Harry is nice, and I liked him..." Ginny broke off from this prattle as there was a loud thud heard from outside of the house. Suddenly the two girls snapped back into reality, and the training they had practiced during the days of the war came to life. They withdrew their wands and crept quickly towards the source of the noise, right outside the front door.

Hermione could feel her heart beating frantically in her chest but she quelled it with a long, steady breath. With a stern nod at Ginny they pulled the door open, wands pointed into the dark night on the other side.

Even in the dark the blood covered body was distinct. Hermione didn't need to check for a pulse; the young auror who had been guarding her house was clearly dead, a deep slash crossing his body diagonally, from one shoulder down to his hip.

"We have to get out of here" Ginny said, her tone tense. "NOW!" she grabbed Hermione's arm and before Hermione could react they gone from the scene of the murder and had landed in the middle of the Burrow, scaring Mrs. Weasley from her knitting.

"My goodness girls!" she yelped, "you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry mum, but Hermione's in danger, I apparated here because it was the first thing that popped into my mind!"

"Danger? What sort of danger?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, throwing her knitting aside and rushing to the girls. "Are either of you hurt? What happened?"

"I need to sit" Hermione responded weakly, the sight of all the blood on the doorstep of her beloved home turning her stomach. Mrs. Weasley ushered both of the girls into their chairs and Mr. Weasley was there a moment later, having heard the commotion from the other room. Did I know that poor boy? Hermione wondered, realizing her nerves had her shaking a bit. She could she his wide, staring blue eyes then, looking up at her from the darkness. She had seen death quite a bit, but it never got any less gruesome. And the manner of his wound... so shocking...

"Hermione dear, I need to know what's going on" Mr. Weasley said softly, breaking her away from her reverie.

"I received a threat just the other night" she said slowly, noticing Ginny looked quite pale, so Hermione gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "So my house was under protection by the aurors. There must have been over a dozen protective wards, I don't know how a single alarm wasn't sounded... but they killed him."

"Killed who?" Mrs. Weasley asked, dread in her voice.

"An auror who was surveying the property. Just a young man, I didn't even know him but I could see his badge" under all the blood she finished in her mind.

"Well this is most startling" Mr. Weasley responded, his wife nodding in concerned agreement. "I thought we were finally in a time of peace."

"There's never really peace in the wizarding world" Ginny said cynically. "There's always some maniac trying to purify the blood, or trying to gain world domination or whatever other idiotic thing." Mrs. Weasley looked surprised at her daughter's harsh words but said nothing.

"We need to alert the aurors at once that they have a man down and you are safely in our custody" Mr. Weasley said, heading towards the fire. It was only moments later that there was a loud POP from the to the room, indicating that someone new had apparated into the Burrow. The only people who could do so were the Weasleys, and a few honorary Weasleys. Everyone else had to apparate at the perimeter of the property and walk in due to protective wards. This meant only one thing. Harry Potter had arrived.

She could hear his voice echoing from the other room as he talked sternly with Mr. Weasley. It was so familiar, and he was so near but she didn't dare go to him. What's wrong with me? she wondered. But she also knew the answer immediately. She was still scared of him, or whatever was happening to him. She steeled her nerve and followed Ginny to greet Harry in the other room. After all I've survived, I'm a fool if I'm afraid of Harry Potter.

As a child Harry had hardly looked the part of hero. That was one of the first things she really noticed about him, how normal he looked with his broken glasses, his messy hair, his too big clothes and his scrawny physique. Of course, he had only been 11, but he was a small 11 at that. A lot had changed, and the shy boy with the sweet smile was now a broad shouldered man with scars, a commanding gaze and a deep voice. As he stood there in his black auror robes, he looked almost more like a villain than a hero.

His eyes shifted from Mr. Weasley to hers, and her confusion about the Boy Who Lived was instantly lifted as their eyes met. There was deep concern in his gaze, and tender caring, the openly exposed, raw emotion that he reserved for her. How had she forgotten who he was? What he was? He was just a man, a boy really in many ways, a boy with messy habits and an obsession with Quidditch and a tendency to over drink at the pub with his mates from time to time. He was a human, with hopes and fears and dreams, and in that moment she forgot about the dead body at her doorstep. It was him she wanted to protect, and she felt her feet running towards him and threw her arms around his shoulders.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly against her ear, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I'm fine, how about you?" she stepped back to investigate him thoroughly, and he gave her an incredulous look, confused as to how she could be worried about him when she was the one under a death threat.

"This is possibly the only time in our friendship that you're been the one they're after. Don't be worrying about me" he sighed. But she was worried. The dark circles under his eyes, the almost labored pain in his breathing. She wasn't able to broach the topic however, because Harry was instantly set to action, dictating what wards be set up and setting Mrs. Weasley and Ginny to work. Then in a heartbeat he was announcing he would have to be off.

"You'll be safe here at the Burrow" Harry assured her as he hurriedly headed for the fireplace to make his exit. "There's half an army of aurors stationed, and enough wards to keep out a legion of dark wizards, not to mention you and the Weasleys are on high alert. You couldn't possibly be safer anywhere else."

"I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about you!" she half yelled, grabbing his arm and jerking him back to face her. "Talk to me for a minute, or I will hex you into oblivion!"

He saw the flash of anger in her eyes and grinned slightly in spite of himself. What made it so funny was that he knew if she really wanted to duel him, she most certainly could. He was considered to be this great and powerful wizard, but few knew the reality that Hermione was far more clever and aggressive when it came to dueling. And that was many of the things he adored so much about her. She had proven that she was the most powerful witch of her age, and her prowess in the Battle of Hogwarts was legendary. But she had chosen to put down her wand and pick up the quill to fight for equality for all.

"I can't talk right now, I need to meet with O'Rourke... we may have a lead, thanks to you might I add. When I come back, we will talk." Having no other option she sighed and accepted his farewell, which included a brief, chaste kiss on the cheek.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy rubbed his temple with a combination of exhaustion and pain. He was having what felt almost like hallucinations as there were voices speaking from the back of his mind at random intervals, and sudden graphic images flooding his vision. Sometimes, he felt utterly unlike himself. Sometimes he felt a thirst for blood.

I can control this he thought to himself as he pulled the dark hood up over his platinum blond hair. His parents had been many things. Some said evil, some said vindictive, many said cowardly. But they had always been people of self-control and careful calculation. His parents were 6 feet under now, but their rigid sense of discipline had lived on in their son, the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune and all its dark past. I can control this he repeated to himself once more, shuddering slightly as the taste of blood filled his throat and then just as quickly disappeared.

He felt focused once more as he walked through the winding alleyways the led to Knockturn Alley. It was nearly pitch black out, but there was just enough silver light from the moon above to allow his eyes to adjust, and he walked surefooted, with an elegant stride. "The way you enter a room determines if you are a coward or a conqueror" his father had once said, slapping his son smartly for bad posture. Draco had heard the expression "walk in the room like you own it", and frequently he had quite literally owned the property on which he trod. But despite how fitting the term appeared Draco would always prefer his father's saying, and he always walked like a conqueror. Even after his family had been branded coward.

As a child, I was often a coward he considered, stepping from the shadows, the full light of the moon exposing him as the pathway widened. But I found my spine, and I will show it to any who come in my way. He pulled his wand from his pocket now, listening carefully, ever on the alert. He would not be caught unaware, and he would get his answers on this night. He had to believe that if he was to keep going on.

He looked about, staring into the black shadows of tall, crooked brick buildings. He was poised to take the next step, and then he made the mistake that would change his life forever. Many say that a single mistake cannot ruin one's life. That is, of course, complete rubbish. For example, a single step too many on the edge of a cliff is a life ender. Life is always balanced on a knife's edge, and this was something Draco Malfoy had known for many years. Still, he made a mistake that changed it all. He looked up.

The moon has a strange allure over many people. It seems to subtly affect the masses of human beings as it waxes and wanes in the inky night sky. Draco rarely thought of the moon however. He had no love for astronomy or astrology, and the moon was as common and insignificant in his mind as its solar counterpart. But tonight, as he looked up, he was seized by those pesky hallucinations from earlier, and he found himself staring at the silver surface with such deep longing that he could not tear his eyes away. There was a sudden noise, a loud moaning. No, it's a HOWLING he realized, slowly coming back to himself, and all at once realizing that the sound from coming from his own throat. He trembled suddenly, jerking himself from the waking dream, only to find that a man dressed in black slowly approaching him, wand drawn in the shadows.

"Harry Potter" Draco Malfoy sighed with irritation. "I knew it was just a matter of time before you meddled in my business."

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