A Dark Time For The Light

21

He had managed to borrow an alarm clock and set it for 6:30 and woke up confused in pitch blackness with the thing beeping at him. He slapped the thing quiet. He leaned over and kissed whatever bit of Draco was nearest in the dark and rose, gathering the pile of clothes he’d left ready and heading for the shower.

Half an hour later saw both himself and Ron sitting down to porridge. If Tonks wasn’t on all-night door detail, then she generally cooked for the earlier workers. She pressed a packed lunch into Dean’s hand. This morning she had one for Harry and Ron. “Just as well Dean told me you were trying out with his team this week. I’m Magical, guys, not psychic. I need to know how many lunches to do”, she chuckled at them. They pocketed lunch and grinned, thanking her.

At a quarter to eight, Kingsley let them out of the door and they walked about half a mile and were met on the corner by the white Transit van, the back had a long bench down either side on which sat another four men of varying ages, all dressed in paint-splattered white overalls and baseball caps. There was a driver up front, plus a woman in the passenger seat dressed the same as her workmates. Dean briefly introduced them as housemates of his currently looking for work. The driver, an Irish lad called Cellan, flicked a smirk over his shoulder, “Doesn’t matter if you’re signing on boys. I won’t tell ‘em anythin’. It’s just a bit o’ casual work for a few weeks”.

They seemed an all right bunch of guys in Ron’s opinion, and as they crawled across London, they were all embroiled in various conversations regarding football, formula one and any other major sports that may have been played over the weekend. Ron was a bit lost in it all, and followed eagerly. Dean and Harry entered in with alacrity, Harry thumbing eagerly through the tabloid sports pages that were handed to him. He slapped a hand to his head in horror, “Fuck!. I can’t believe they’re selling Morrow. Damn and buggeration. That’s us for relegation next season”. This earned him a laugh from around the van.

Ron took cautious looks at his best friend and former class-mate. How easily they fitted in. How easily they talked and bantered about things he had no ideas of. He sat quiet and listened hard.

Eventually they were let in through an imposing set of wrought iron gates and drove up a twisting driveway, hemmed in fairly closely by large rhododendrons encroaching from both sides. A short while later and the driveway opened out in front of them revealing a solidly built 1830’s manor house. Square and blocky with a small portico at the front. A double set of steps led to a single set that climbed to an impressive front door.

The van nosed around the side of the house, through another gate set in a tall brick wall, letting onto a large yard, with what looked like a delapidated stable block to one side. Cellan killed the engine and they all climbed out. A short round man in overalls with a clipboard in his hand barrelled towards them. “Cel. You’re late”. The younger man grinned, “Sorry Joe, but the traffic was an absolute bastard”. He locked the van.

Dean took Harry and Ron to meet his foreman, “Harry, Ron, this is Joe, the supervisor. Joe, here’s those mates of mine I was tellin’ you about, who need a bit of work, like”. Joe shook their hands, “It’s hard work, dirty too, but the pay’s good. You’re not covered by the insurance, so it’s only the employees who get to be put in any real danger. Do a good job, lads, and there’s about six weeks work here if you want it. I’ll lend you some overalls for this week, but if I keep you on, then you’ll need to get yer own. I provide all the tools you need. Lunch is at one and we knock off at six. It’s four hundred a week clear. Any questions?”.

Neither of them had any for now and they were split up. Ron introduced to a burly lad called Gary. He was assigned to his group. Harry was led away by Alan, who had travelled in with them, and soon found himself hand-preparing buckets of paint for his group. He realised he was being given the scut-work, being the newest member of the group, but no-one seemed to be taking the piss out of the newbie and he worked hard, keeping everyone supplied with paint.

At lunchtime, Ron hadn’t fared so well. He’d been sent for a ‘long stand’ outside the prefab that held the supervisor’s temporary office, then to the stores for a bucket of rainbow paint, until he ‘got it’, reddening, and was thus inducted into the group. Harry laughed as he related this. “I’ve been on the lookout for piss-takers all morning. Don’t worry, mate. It’s just part of working in the building trade. There’s no real malice meant. It’s just a laugh”.

That afternoon, Ron got to do some painting, but Harry was still mixing. Adding the colourant drop at a time to the white paint, then so many stirs one way, so many the other. He chuckled, if only Sev could see him now. This was no different than Potion-making in it’s own way, just the cauldron and ingredients were a bit different.

Alan watched the new boy taking care over his work and concentrating hard and was satisfied that the new lad, while not experienced, was a grafter, and they were thin on the ground these days. He had to chivvy some of his men, keep them at it, but, Harry, he realised, could be trusted to work alone. It may be a case of the new broom sweeping clean, but he had a feeling about this boy.

Both Gary and Alan turned in favourable reports of the boys’ work to Joe, who called them over as the day ended. He shook them by the hand gruffly. “Well, you’ve done good work today, boys. See you tomorrow, yeah?”. They beamed at each other as they climbed back into the van. In truth, Harry felt good to be back at work again, even though his back ached a bit. Ron was pleased as punch. He, too, ached a bit, but he’d just done his first day’s honest toil in the real world and had done okay, apart from the embarrassing incidents earlier. He resolved that, at the first opportunity, he was going to see a football game.

They tipped tiredly into the bunker after they were dropped off. Harry and Ron wanted nothing more than a shower, some food and bed, in more or less that order. The place didn’t seem so gloomy to Harry as he entered. Ron didn’t notice.

Harry gazed around. No. He wasn’t hallucinating. There were more lights lit. Out of the crowd in the canteen, he discerned a white-blond head barreling towards him, then arms enveloping him, crushed to Draco’s chest, then a pulling away, “Ew!. Harry mine, you pong!!”. Harry laughed, “Now what kind of way is that, to greet your man after a hard day’s work?”. Draco shrugged, “Sorry, Harry, but you still stink”. He held his lover tight, nuzzling his nose in Harry’s sweaty hair, then they went to ‘their’ table.

Harry sank down onto a seat, carding his fingers through his hair. In moments, Draco pushed food before him and he ate, ravenously. As he raised his snout from the trough, he noticed Hermione and Ginny sitting opposite him. Hermione looked insufferably smug. “Go on, ‘Mione. You look fit to burst. What did you do today?”. The girls and Draco grinned conspiratorially. Ron, Dean and Seamus were too bushwhacked to notice.

Harry looked between the three of them. “The lights are brighter. Is that it?”. Draco spoke, “Well, it’s all down to Hermione here. Ginny and I have been acting in the capacity of electrician’s mate, just passing tools and suchlike, holding the torch while Hermione worked”.

Ginny grinned, “We’ve got electricity all over the station, now. Hermione rigged up some weird connections and now we have electric for free, run off it’s own breaker boxes and filched from the two office blocks over us. It’s fully fused like any other supply, and she organised a secondary system as backup. All the rooms now have light and we have a faster immersion system for heating up water, too, so we’ve re-arranged the shower schedules. Boys and girls get a crack at them twice a day now. Cool hey?”, she finished.

After dinner, Harry and Draco went to their room. Harry needed a shower, but he had half an hour to wait until the girls’ hour was up. He was delighted at the changes Draco had made to their space, not to mention seeing it for the first time, clearly.

The extraneous furniture had been piled neatly against one wall. The mattress was now atop two clean pallets and a lot lower to the ground. The light revealed a sink in the corner of the room that neither had seen before, plus a door in the far wall that led to a toilet. Draco grinned, “Looks like we got the deluxe suite, love, and no-one even knew”. Harry drew Draco into his arms and kissed him. Draco drew away, grimacing. “Sorry, love, but whatever chemicals they’ve had you mixing all day..... you really need a shower”.

He was standing under the hot water as it battered down on his tired face and body. He ran his hands through his hair as the last of the shampoo was sluiced away. He opened his eyes and glanced around, spotting Ron in the stall opposite him. “How did it go today, Ron. Y’alright?”. Ron grinned as the water beat at his face, “I’m fuckin’ knackered, Harry, but I feel great. Y’know, like, working, earning my keep for the first time. All the time I’ve been here, I’ve been reliant on other people. The day I tip my wages up to Minerva will be a good one, indeed”, he whistled as he showered vigorously, shaking his red mane out as he dried himself. He wished Harry a hearty goodnight and left. Harry grinned as he dried off.

He entered their room and the light was lower. He glanced at the switch, “A dimmer switch?. Where did this come from?”. Draco was laid out on the bed reading by a small lamp. “We had to go to this big DIY store thingy, two initials, and I snuck it into the basket. Hermione giggled at me, Ginny paid for it and Hermione fitted it. She’s a bloody genius, Harry. She’s going to try and fix us up a free phone line as well”. Harry’s brow creased, “You know this is probably illegal as hell, don’t you?”. Draco grinned, “Of course it is, idiot. We all know that”, his smile was sly, “And how willing a certain triumvirate of Gryffindors are to breaking a rule or two”.

Harry descended on him with the force of a large breaking wave and Draco willingly succumbed beneath this force of nature and gave himself up, offering himself and being worshipped. He fell asleep that night feeling, and being, adored. His heart was full, his Harry curled around him. He slept content.