A Dark Time For The Light

8

The smell of food wafting in woke them both. The candles were nearly burnt out. They kissed and cuddled for a while, then rose and dressed. Ron was right, the shorts were a bit dirty, but Harry didn’t mind, there was no pressure on his road-burns and for that he was grateful. He thrust bare feet into his trainers and slung on the green and grey shirt. Draco laughed at his lover wearing his own House colours. Harry shrugged, “Matches the pants”. Draco took Harry into his arms, “And your eyes, love. Let’s go and see what’s cooking. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving”.

They locked their room and wandered in the aroma’s direction hand in hand. When they reached the lit canteen, they entered to the sound of cheers. As they peered through the steamy fug of cooking, both recognised various faces. There were a lot more people in the canteen than earlier and Harry guessed that most of those who worked were now amongst them. Harry hugged Dean hard. Then winced in pain as a hand slapped his bad shoulder. He turned to Seamus’ laughing face. They embraced. “Careful, Seamus, I had a road accident. I hurt all along this side”. Seamus sprang away, “Sorry, Harry. Just glad to see you. You disappeared off everyone’s radar. I’m glad to see you here”.

Harry glanced at the cooks behind the canteen counter, beginning to dish food onto plates and got the shock of his life. None other than his old Head of House. He threaded his way through the tables and lifted the end of the counter and stepped behind it, closing the top down again. The woman hadn’t noticed yet, intent upon her task. She started when Harry tapped her on the shoulder, “Professor?”. She spun round and laughed aloud, “Harry!. Upon my word. You’re here!. This is a surprise, and now we’re in this situation, it’s Minerva, please”. She put down her serving spoon and they embraced for a moment, then stood away appraising each other.

Harry couldn’t quite believe it. Minerva McGonagall in jeans and a faded sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled back, her hair tied in a ponytail at the base of her neck, glasses instead of pince-nez. She looked many years younger. She took in the boy before her. The beginnings of creases between his brows. He hadn’t grown since she’d last seen him but his face had refined from boy to man without coarsening. “Where are your glasses, Harry”, she asked gently. Harry grinned, “Don’t need them anymore. Muggle medicine may seem crude at times, but sometimes it can work wonders. They were great in the hospital too. I was in one ‘til this morning”.

She was shocked, “Hospital, Harry?”. He shrugged, “Got knocked off my scooter a few days back”. He held up his bound fingers, “Cracked a couple of ribs, got road rash like you wouldn’t believe”, he wound up the leg of his shorts to just above the knee. She saw the dressing and winced, “But then Draco found me and here I am, and I’ve not been this happy for nearly two years”, he laughed aloud. “It’s good to see you, prof,....Minerva”. She regarded him for a long moment, then smiled, “It’s bloody good to see you too, Harry. Now shoo, I’ve got dinner to dish up. We’ll talk at a later date”. Harry returned to the other side of the counter and dinner was served.

Corned beef hash, but no-one seemed to mind. The hot tasty stodge warmed everyone’s bones which living deep under London tended to chill. Draco and Harry ended up with Ron, Seamus and Dean at the same table. They were swapping funny tales when a small voice behind Harry enquired if there was room for two more. Heads spun round and looked up. Hermione and Ginny with loaded plates needing a seat.

Harry sprang to his feet. He took Hermione’s plate from her and placed it on the table. Then took her in his arms. Gods, she was so thin. But it was still her smile, even out of a hollowed face. It was still her scent as he held her, with just a slight sour hint overlaid by the smell of soap and shampoo.

Chairs were arranged, Hugs exchanged. Dinner consumed, most going back for seconds. A stodgy apple pudding for afters, that left the diners sated. A messenger appeared in the doorway all out of breath. “Ron. The mail’s here”. Ron rose from his seat and strode off between the tables. Harry noticed the assured swagger and smiled. Two motorcycle-helmeted men strode towards Ron, removing same as they approached him. Severus Snape and Remus Lupin.

Ron stood up, grin at full stretch and embraced them both. “Got mail?”. Severus reached into the bag on his hip and pulled out a thick sheaf of mail. He read out names then flicked the letters expertly in the direction of the calls. “One for a Mr David Marley”. Draco put his hand up, “Me, sir”. Severus turned and caught sight of that silver-blond head. “Draco?”. The boy in question leapt from his seat and hugged his old House Master with main force, “I’m here, with the Resistance. I wasn’t Marked. We ran away. Ginny and I. I’m back with Harry. She’s back with Hermione. Oh Merlin, am I glad to see you”. He felt strong arms about him, the tickle of long hair against his cheek and they held each other then pulled away.

“You’re looking well, Draco”. The honey-soft voice he knew so well. Another, arms draped around Severus, “Stop flirting. He’s taken and so are you”, Remus’ eyes burned into Severus’. Draco watched in amazement as they kissed. To distract himself, he opened the envelope. A letter dropped out. The sum total of his inheritance. A little over three hundred thousand pounds. Paid into a Muggle bank, a card accessing it included in the letter.

Draco sat down rather hard and re-read the letter very carefully. In truth, he’d expected rather more than that, but this seemed like a sizeable sum. Harry sat beside him, “What’s up, My Dragon?. Not bad news I hope”. Draco handed him the letter. “It would appear I have been completely cut out of the Malfoy family finances and the only money I have access to was a legacy from my maternal Grandmother bequeathed in my own name. Shit, Harry. I’m broke”.

Harry couldn’t help himself, He laughed. “Dragon, this is a decent chunk of change to be going on with, though. Granted, you couldn’t retire to a life of idle luxury on it, it wouldn’t get you much in the way of property here in London, for example, but it’s not a bad cushion to have at your back”.

Draco fingered the card, “What’s this about, Harry?”. Harry leaned in and kissed his beloved on the cheek. “You’ll have to wait a few days for a four figure number that lets you use this, then I’ll show you how. Put it away safely for now”. Harry’s mood suddenly became sombre. “All my money was frozen after the War, as were all Muggle-borns accounts. I’ll probably never see it again. Right now, I have about five hundred quid in my current account and about two and a half grand in a savings account that I can’t touch immediately”. He huffed out a long breath. “I need a job, Dragon. I did all right while I had a job”. They fell silent.

Around them, assorted folk were busily reading their mail. Severus and Remus did a weekly tour around the nation on their large motorbike acting as the Underground’s postmen and keeping the various cadres in communication with each other. Remus slipped into a seat on the other side of Harry. “So, Harry, where have you been all this time.? You dropped off the map a bit, didn’t you?”. Harry nodded, “Yes. When we, er, lost. I just ran and ran. I got a job, a bedsit and some transport and became Jim Porter for nearly two years. I was, I think traumatised is a good word, devastated another, when they took Draco from me. Then I heard he’d run away with Ginny and I simply clocked off and ran again. Here I am. And that’s it in a nutshell”. He shrugged.

“What of you, Remus? I like the leather by the way”, he cast a wholly appraising look over his former teacher, one eyebrow raised. They grinned at each other. Remus looked sidelong at Harry, a smile quirking the side of his mouth, “It isn’t only my partner who’s an incorrigible flirt, then?”. They both laughed.

“Seriously, Harry. Severus has looked after me for years. Then about eighteen months or so ago, things, er, changed. Then we heard about the Underground forming. There are six groups altogether. Your ex-classmate Neville Longbottom organised the cadre near Glasgow. It’s bigger than this one, about 150 members now. The others are in Leeds, Manchester, Leicester and Bristol. At a guess there are more than 400 souls hiding out between them all. Sev and I go to Hogsmeade and then deliver mail to all of them. We also distribute the samizdat version of the Prophet. There’s also a Network of squibs and concerned Muggles who help with food and donations and suchlike”.

Harry took all of this in thoughtfully raking a hand through his hair. “Ron hasn’t really had the time to explain all this yet. We only just got here. Neville, eh?”, he glanced at Remus’ face to see the other man smiling gently, “Oh, yes. He’s not the shy boy you knew at School. Fear does that to a person. His grandmother passed the other year. He had nothing left to lose. It was him and Ron that started the Underground in the first place, you know”.

This piece of news caught Harry completely by surprise, he was dumbfounded. “Come on Harry, this is the old DA in action. Terry Boot started Leicester, Justin Finch-Fletchley organised Leeds, and believe it or not, Pansy Parkinson is Manchester’s main contact. Another pureblood come over to our side. Ron and Dean sorted this squat out, organised the contact between various groups that deal with young runaways. In fact, it was one of these charitable Muggle organisations that put Draco and Ginny up and led them to us. Dennis Creevey is placed so as to detect Magicals and lead them to us. It’s quite complicated. I’m pretty sure that the Manchester group would have known of your whereabouts. They were at least two squibs looking out for you at work, weren’t there?”

Harry nodded dumbly, his head in his hands, “Moira said she didn’t realise who I was until the day I left and she saw my scar, she’d been instructed to keep an eye on me, but then I cracked up at work, told her about Draco and she fished this battered copy of the Prophet out and my Dragon was on the run...”

He raised his eyes to Remus’, “This is really organised, isn’t it?”. Remus quirked a wry grin, “If it wasn’t so bloody desperate, it’d be bloody brilliant. You Muggle-trained people are leading the pure-borns. You know how to live in the real world. You adapt. Let’s face it, without Dean, Ron could never have set this up”.

Harry turned away and looked down, “Here was I, thinking everyone was blasted to the four corners of the universe. Shit, I should have realised. I panicked. I just ran and hid. I feel like such a friggin’ coward. But I thought that’s what everyone else would do”.

Remus laid a warm hand in the small of Harry’s back, rubbing gently, “Don’t be daft, Harry. You, of all people, had reason to run and hide. He wanted you dead, he still does. You’re still alive. That in itself is testament to your abilities. And now you’re here”.

Harry paled, enough for Remus to lean in with real concern, “What, Harry?. What is it?”. Harry proceeded to relate his past few days. The accident and all he could remember. A black car, too close, the driver waving frantically, the touch on his rear wheel, him and the scooter spinning through the air, then blackness.

They gazed at each other. Was it an accident?. Harry related the veiled warning that Moira had given him prior to his departure and Remus tried to rein in his surprise. Harry read the momentary look that flashed behind his friend’s eyes. “Maybe you should stay hidden, Harry. Draco too, and Ginny. They’re being hunted. As are you. He knows you still live”.

Harry raked both hands through his hair, doubt gnawing at him, “What does he fucking want, Remus?. He defeated us. Isn’t that enough?. He has decimated families. Torn loved ones from each other. Killed many people. FUCK!!. When will his blood-lust be sated?”. Throughout his impassioned speech, his voice had risen, louder and louder, until all in the canteen were listening.

Remus threw his arms around Harry and pressed their foreheads together, “It will never end, Harry, until the blood is pure again. We have to fight this, Harry. Come on, even the purebloods are joining us. Not in large numbers, granted, but key members of their lines”. In spite of his rage, Harry took a deep breath squeezing his eyes shut at the press of feelings behind them. He felt another warm pair of arms encircling his waist and leant away from the man’s touch laying his head on Draco’s shoulder behind him.

Draco glared at the werewolf and Harry could feel him tense. “Ssshhh, Dragon, he’s just been telling me what’s been going on. It’s not good. We could do with finding out more before we leap down each other’s throats”, he twisted slightly in Draco’s arms and kissed him under the chin. He faced Remus, “Sorry, I shouted”, as the noise level rose around them again. Remus held a hand out, Harry took it, “This lifestyle is unlike anything any of us have been used to. It takes time to adjust. However long it took to get here. What you do to contribute is up to you, but most of us needed time to adapt. You will too. Come on, cut yourselves a little slack. You’re here now, and I’m bloody glad to see all of you, though...”, his voice dropped to a whisper, “I notice Hermione’s looking awfully thin. What’s her story?....”.

Draco’s glare softened, “You’ll have to ask her”, he let out a long sigh, “We’ve all been hurt one way or another” and dipped his head kissing Harry’s neck and tightened his hold, “But then again”, he raised his head and smiled, “Some things have turned out so bloody right”. All three laughed and Remus turned seeking Severus out with his eyes, winking when their gazes collided, receiving a grin in reply. His eyes met the boys’, “You can say that again, “, he intoned softly.

Harry’s eyes wandered around the room, then back to their table. Ginny and Hermione were deep into conversation with Dean and Seamus. Hermione looked embarrassed, she was clearly telling her tale to the boys. Ron was in a little bubble of space of his own on the far side of the table. He was reading a long letter, a small well thumbed book at his side, a pencil clamped in his teeth. His brow was knotted in concentration. He made notes on a piece of scrap paper. Harry watched, curious.

Then he twigged. A letter from Blaise, and Ron was translating. From Italian to English. Probably the rude bits. Harry watched a bit longer, then straightened out of Draco’s arms and fished a hand in his pocket withdrawing his mobile. “Ron, have you got his phone number?”. Ron’s head shot up, “Yes. Why?”. Harry pushed the phone across the table, “I’ve got about 90 odd minutes left. Go on, go outside. Call him”, he was grinning from ear to ear as he glanced at the letter. “How long is it since you heard his voice?”, Harry asked softly. Ron coloured to the roots of his hair. He grabbed the phone and the letter, stuffing the small dictionary into his pocket, reached over the table and kissed Harry, then shot off out of the canteen.

He sank back into Draco’s arms, pleased with himself. Remus didn’t look so sure. Harry grinned, “It’s an unregistered pay-as-you-go. Don’t worry, it’s off the radar”. Remus smiled back. Draco looked baffled. He had so much to learn. He slumped a bit. Harry discerned it, “What is it, babe?”, he looked into Draco’s face. Draco leaned down and kissed his lover lightly on that beautiful mouth, “Teach me, Harry. There’s so much I don’t know. Please?”.

Harry flicked a glance at Remus, who rose, winked at him and moved away. He turned his face up to his lover’s and pulled him down kissing him as if their lives depended on it. They emerged, pink and grinning. “We need to take this elsewhere”, Draco murmured. Harry gazed into those smoky grey-blue depths and barely nodded, lost. Clutching each other, they excused themselves and wobbled off.

The other four watched them go. Then Ginny suddenly called out, “Harry”. He turned. She wrenched at her left hand then threw something towards him. Well-trained reflexes made sure he caught it. He opened his hand. Ginny’s wedding ring. “It should always have been yours, Harry. It never did belong to me. I just held it in trust for you”.

Harry turned, wide-eyed. Draco also reversed direction. He blew his wife a kiss and a ‘Thank you’,
and led a stunned Harry away still gazing at his catch, awed.

The others watched them go. Two with big grins. Two somewhat envious. One’s beloved was in Leicester, propping up that cadre. The other had none and felt it deeply.

After a hot meal and some intelligent talk, Hermione was tired but feeling a bit like herself again. As Ginny continued a conversation with the boys, Hermione watched, seeing the animation in her lover’s face and posture and felt something she hadn’t felt in, oh, so long. Desire. Nearly making her faint. She reached her arms around her beloved, want clouding her mind. She dipped her head to Ginny’s shoulder, a low murmur that only Ginny could hear, “Want you, love””.

Ginny blushed and said, “Excuse us”, and kissed Hermione to within an inch of her life. The boys glanced at each other. Thought about cheering. Thought better of it and left them to it instead, wishing them a cordial goodnight that neither girl heard, lost in each other.

One of the trains was late, which led to a scramble for an engineer’s niche as the train threatened to annihilate them. They clutched each other, glad of their lives, then kissed as if it was with their last breath. They got back to their station, poured themselves into their room, divesting each other of garments and made sweet love far into the night, or day, for it was easy to lose track of time in a constantly dark place. They only knew, that when they awoke and made love again, slower and with less urgency, they didn’t give a toss for the time of day, the constant darkness throwing a timelessness around them.

They awoke to the same darkness, but many trains were passing and they figured out that it was rush-hour. “We have at least an hour before we dare venture out. What do you suggest we do with the time?”, Ginny murmured, brushing a sleepy hand over her beloved’s equally sleepy body. Hermione stretched and arched into the touch. “Make love to me, Gin”. The younger girl complied, touching, licking, sucking until her beloved lay, a mess beneath her begging for release, then grabbing her, turning her ‘til they were each mouth to snatch, devouring each other and coming a storm in each other’s mouths.

In a locked storage cupboard one layer below the ground, Ron curled up, exhausted, from the best twenty minutes phone sex he’d ever had. His hand trembled as he held Harry’s phone to his cheek, both tears and a smile on his face. He wept and laughed in the dark. He slowly stood and straightened his clothes, then lurched down to bed.