Journey

When Harry woke in the morning he was in a daze from a wonderful dream. Last night he been visited by his frequent nightmares, but suddenly they went away and the face of an angel had lulled him back to sleep. When Draco moved quite suddenly in Harry’s arms, Harry realized that the face of the angel was not exactly a dream, but very real.

With open curiosity he studied the blonde’s features. When Harry had first seen him in the field, staring up at the castle, he had thought he was a very effeminate man. Soft skin, shapely mouth. Tight little arse. And even now, with the smaller man in his arms, it seemed the same. But he wasn’t as weak as Harry originally thought. Ron had begrudgingly told him about Draco’s help, and the surprising willingness from the blonde. There was something very different about this boy/man. Harry indeed wanted to find out exactly what it was.

Trying as hard as he could, Harry wiggled out of the grasp (something he wasn’t quite used to. Most of the time, women he had been with had eventually wiggled out of his), and stood. Draco muttered something, then rolled over, back to Harry. Smiling, Harry stepped out of the tent. “About time you got up.”

“The sun is barely above the horizon.” Harry pointed out, grinning at Ron.

“What has put you in such a good mood? Did the little snot give you a reason to beat him?”

“Of course not. I told Lord Dumbledore I wouldn’t hurt a hair on his head.” Looking around, Harry’s smile nearly faltered. His men were getting up, ready to start their journey back to the Hogwarts castle. They hadn’t had a day of rest in months, they were tired, and he was sure that they missed their families. “I’ve decided after this little expedition, I’m going to ask for some time off for you all.” Harry suddenly announced. “You’ve stayed by me as loyal, faithful friends, and it’s only right you get to see your home once more.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re going to do.” It was Draco’s voice behind Harry. He turned, his eyes softening at the look of the rumpled blond.

“It’s what my men need. Now, I assume you know how to ride a horse.”

“Of course I know how to ride a horse! Do you think I’m some sort of untalented heathen?” Draco asked, nose up in the air. Harry sighed, too tired to fight with Draco’s indignation.

“Of course, good sir, I’m sorry to have offended you. That is your horse, the brown mare.”

“A mare-”

“It’s the only one I have available, as it were.” Harry sighed, a total sigh of defeat. He closed his eyes, wondering where had the angel from his arms had gone.

If Draco was acting haughtier than usual, it was only because he had woken up alone. Sure it was a definite brush off by Harry, which shouldn’t have bothered him. He couldn’t understand why he felt so hurt when he woke and found Harry no where around. Couldn’t understand why he felt so drawn to Harry. And definitely couldn’t understand why Harry was looking at him now as if he were nothing by a slimy fish.

“Come on, lets go.” Harry saddled his horse and was off before Draco had a chance to even get on his. The mare Harry had given him was mediocre at best.
Draco did his best to catch up, but Harry obviously didn’t want anyone to ride next to him. Even his red headed friend was staying a good distance away.

Holding his head high, Draco willed the horse to go faster. Before he reached Harry, Dean shouted over to him. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you. He’s in a bad mood!”

Draco ignored him and kept going. He reached Harry’s side and opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it when he realized he didn’t know what to say. For a moment he just watched Harry, who was still in rather ragged peasant clothes. He held himself erect, proud. “Potter!”

Harry turned, his eyes cool. He looked surprised to see Draco. “What do you need? Is the mare too much for you?”

“I can ride a,” Draco stopped when he saw Harry’s smile. “I was wondering how long this journey will take.”

“One week. Perhaps two. It is taking longer because we are taking the path along the river, to tour some of the villages your father has destroyed.”

“You’ee tee that you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco said, with such confidence that Harry nearly chuckled.

“Your father spends a lot of time with you?” Harry asked, slowing Hedgwig enough for Draco’s mare to keep up.

“Well, no. He’s rather busy. But has taught me all I know.” Draco said with pride. “My father is a very shrewd man. He takes care of his land.”

“You mean he squeezes every peasant and serf for what he can get. No doubt he owns many slaves.” Harry’s voice was dripping in bitterness.

“I don’t…I don’t know about slaves. I’ve never…” Draco stopped talking, realizing he sounded flustered. He straightened his back, resolve set on his firm lips. “If my father owns slaves it’s their own fault and no one else’s. He didn’t put them where they are.”

“Guess you’re more like your father then I first imagined.” Harry gave a cold hard look at Draco, then raced his horse forward. Once again Draco was left alone, confused, and irritated.

“What did you say to him?” Ron asked, riding up.

“Nothing really.” Draco paused, trying to find the right words. “Tell me, I’ve heard of Potter before. I didn’t quite recognize the name the first time he told it to me, but now it does ring a bell. He owns lands south of here right?”

“Yes.”

“From what I’ve heard it’s a rather vast estate for just a knight.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“And he’s in line to get Lord Dumbledore’s estate as well?”

“That hasn’t yet been decided.”

“Then he’s a rich man.” Draco kept his eyes forward.

“I guess you could say that.” Ron looked over at Draco sharply. “What are you all about Malfoy?”

“I just can not understand why he becomes so angry when…when I talk about peasants. Or slaves.” Draco sighed. “I did not mean to offend him…”

“Harry’s parents were peasants. They died shortly after he was born.” Ron’s voice was cold, impassive. “Lord Dumbledore raised Harry as his own.”

“I just assumed that Lord Dumbledore was his father.” Draco couldn’t see Harry anymore. He had disappeared over the hill.

“People like you tend to take things for face value.” With that Ron was gone, and Draco was once again alone. It seemed he could do nothing right. He slumped unconsciously. Lost in his own thoughts, Draco almost missed as Harry flew past him towards hi men.

“Quick men, there’s a fire! Just down the road! We have to hurry!” In a flash they were riding ahead of Draco. His mare could hardly keep up but he finally made it up the hill in time to see the other men jump off their horses. Half went towards the river, the other half towards the huts. There were people crying, filthy children holding onto their just as filthy mothers.

The fires seemed to go on for hours, jumping from one thatched hut to the next. Harry’s men were amazingly fast. Draco wanted to help but he didn’t know where to start. He went to pick up a bucket of water when a child ran past him into one of the huts. The roof was already on fire, and about to cave in. Without a second thought Draco ran in after the child.

The place was filled with smoke, and Draco could hardly see. He found the child trying desperately to pull a pig out of the corner. He grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling hard. “Come on child! You’ll die in here!”

“We need him! We need to eat!” The child ignored Draco’s hands on his shoulders. The boy had to be about eight, but Draco was bigger and stronger, and with one good tug he had the child off his feet and over his shoulder. The boy kicked and screamed until they were outside. The mother of the boy, a thin woman with dirty black hair, ran up to Draco, hugging both him and the child. She smelled of pigs, manure, and sweat; but it was the warmest hug he had ever received.

Within moments Harry and his men had the rest of the fire out. Draco, covered in ash and god knew what else, leaned against a tree, trying to remember exactly how to breathe. He closed his eyes and sat. “You did good Draco.” It was the warm silky voice again. But when Draco opened his eyes, Harry was walking away.