Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Moments in Love

I'll Be Home for Easter

by Gandalfs_Beard 0 reviews

Returning to Number Twelve for Easter, the Potters share a belated celebration with family, and Harry receives a disturbing letter from Dudley... Suggestive Themes.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Harry,Hermione - Published: 2017-09-23 - 5589 words

Narcissa paced back and forth in one of the parlours of Black Manor - her empty ancestral home - pondering her predicament. It was clear that her husband and her son had both forsaken her. She had hoped that her relationships could be salvaged, but her husband’s words, “Blood Traitor,” echoed in her mind.

Harsh though they were, Narcissa had to concede that those words contained a modicum of truth. And the venomous hate that she had seen in her son’s eye when he had reminded her that she was a Malfoy by name only, reinforced the fact that it was she who had changed.

At one time Narcissa had shared the views of her husband, as had many back in those days before the end of the war. She had grown up believing what her parents had taught her. But when her son had been born, Narcissa began to doubt. And when the Dark Lord had been defeated, she had hoped to put the past behind her.

The memory that she had once supported many of the “questionable choices” her husband had made in the service of the Dark Lord now brought Narcissa nothing but shame. The path that now lay before her was uncertain, the choice she faced would define her very existence.

Narcissa considered seeking the counsel of her sister Andromeda, who had long ago cast aside the traditions of Blood Purity to marry a muggleborn. But there was little love lost between Narcissa and her sister, and she doubted that she would be welcomed. There was another that Narcissa had trusted, but she was uncertain as to where his loyalties truly lay.


Severus Snape regarded the fireplace in his office with some apprehension. He had been surprised when an owl had delivered an unmarked envelope at breakfast; he couldn’t recall the last time that he had received a piece of mail. The contents of the envelope had been equally perplexing; the floo address it contained was one he hadn’t seen before and he pondered its significance. He wasn’t sure if he should take the risk that it possibly presented.
Having made a decision, Snape finally flung the powder into the hearth and stepped into the green flames. Emerging from the fireplace at the other end of the floo connection, he lifted an eyebrow as he peered at his surroundings, which appeared to be the parlour of an uninhabited manor.

Many of the pieces of furniture were covered with white sheets. And only the few exposed furnishings and the woman present were any indication that the manor was not quite as uninhabited as it appeared to be.

“Thank you for coming Severus,” greeted Narcissa.

Severus swallowed with trepidation when he noted the tears glistening in Narcissa's long dark eyelashes. Dealing with tearful witches was something he had little experience with, and it unnerved him. His heart pounded and there was a slight ringing in his ears when Narcissa took his arm in hers and led him to the long plush deep-red sofa near the hearth.

Orange flames flared where there had previously been green ones, and bathed the room in a warm flickering glow. Severus sat stiffly where Narcissa bade him. Narcissa unstoppered the 175 year old bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy and poured some into two crystal snifters sitting on the mahogany coffee table before seating herself closely beside him.

They both sat in silence.

Snape swirled his goblet and inhaled the bouquet before taking a sip. The smooth rich liqueur washed over his tongue and steadied his nerves. Narcissa sipped from her glass and placed it back on the coffee table, heaving a deep breath. She took Severus’s unoccupied hand in her own two soft hands.

Severus’s features were inscrutable, but he was certain that she could feel his pulse racing. Anxiously, he drained his own goblet before setting it down. Narcissa nervously cleared her throat before speaking.

“Severus... I must know. How close are you to my husband?”

Snape stiffened, nostrils flaring, uncertain where this was leading. Could this be some sort of test of his loyalties - a trap? Quickly, he considered the ramifications of telling the truth. It was possible that Lucius had set this up, believing that Severus had betrayed him by calling his son to account for what he had done to the Greengrass girl, but Narcissa’s eyes said otherwise.

And even if it were a test, would there be much point to denying the truth at this stage, given the recent turn of events? It was clear that Snape couldn’t maintain his cover with the Malfoys for much longer anyway. The only thing unclear, was how far Lucius was willing to go. Severus’s death at Lucius’s hands was a distinct possibility.

But as Severus continued to gaze into Narcissa’s eyes, her soul lay bare for him to see. She knew what he was - a Legilimens - yet she was allowing him complete access to her mind. It was readily apparent that Lucius was unaware of his wife’s meeting with Severus.

Nevertheless, Severus was reticent to respond, the conversation possibly leading in an uncomfortably personal direction. But Narcissa was not to be put off by his silence.

“You have always been so kind to my family Severus. You have looked after my son at Hogwarts and treated him with respect... and I thank you for that. You provided my husband with friendship and companionship...”

A flame sparked in Narcissa’s pleading tearful eyes. “Please, I must know.”

Severus swallowed, and pain tautened his features as he made his decision.

“Narcissa, I...” Severus finally began, eyebrows raised, his voice lurching, “what I am about to tell you... I hope you can forgive me... The day Lucius and MacNair kept watch as the Dark Lord ended the life of Lily Potter, is the day our friendship truly died. I have - since the day that I learned Lily was a target - been Dumbledore’s Spy. And Lucius... my enemy.”

Bewilderment flooded Severus when Narcissa heaved a sigh of relief, her features brightening, and he felt a warmth creep up his arm from the hand she had clasped between her own.

“Thank you Severus,” Narcissa gasped as her breath quickened. “I needed to hear that...”

As the tears ran down her cheeks, she drew closer to Severus. “I... I fear that I am lost to my husband - I no longer believe as he believes... I can no longer pretend that I share his convictions. I had hoped that one day he would give up his obsession with Blood Purity, but he is more determined than ever...

“And... and I fear that I have also lost my only son to the same obsession... Please, Severus, you have seen into Draco’s heart and soul - is there even a small chance that he can learn a new way of thinking... learn to see that Blood Purity is a dead end? Or is he lost to me forever?”

Severus let out a sigh, knowing now that Narcissa would not like the answer.

“Perhaps one day...” he began haltingly, “...perhaps in the far flung future, it may be possible that Draco will come to see things as you see them - but not today.

“Not as long as Draco continues to believe that his actions have no consequence to himself... Not as long as he continues to believe that he is the centre of the universe - that other people’s lives are insignificant compared to his own... Nor as long as he continues to worship the ground his father walks upon, and continues to have his every whim indulged by Lucius.

“Draco is his father’s son; he wants nothing more than to make his father proud - to become a Death Eater - and I do not see Draco’s desire to live up to his father’s expectations wavering in the slightest. And I believe that Draco’s heart is only further hardening as the consequences of his actions begin to catch up to him... He is heading further down a path of Darkness.

“Narcissa... It pains me to say this, but it may be that only Azkaban can save Draco from himself now...”


Harry and Dora both eyed the fireplace in Dumbledore’s office with some distaste, and Hermione didn’t look much happier. Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he beckoned the three reticent youngsters towards the green flames.
“You sure about this?” Dora grumbled. “There’s still time to catch the Hogwarts Express, you know.”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “However, this is the safest means of travel for Harry now that Voldemort is reconstituted. There is no question that Voldemort will continue to take any opportunity to seek Harry out.”

“He’s right Harry,” said Hermione, peering at Harry with concern.

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Harry resignedly, nodding. “Guess this is it then - see you on the other side.”

And with that, Harry stepped into the green flames, emerging dizzily into Number Twelve’s parlour coughing and wheezing as ashes swirled around him. Hermione was in no better state when she arrived moments later, hacking and sooty. Finally, Dora stumbled out of the fire and tripped on the hearth. Fortunately, Harry had recovered enough to catch her before she hit the floor.

“Ta Harry,” Dora managed to gasp between coughs.

“There she is. My little cousin Dora... graceful as ever,” chortled Sirius. Lupin chuckled and shook his head at Sirius.

“Oi... watch it Sirius,” Dora retorted, shooting Sirius a glare as she dusted herself off, before addressing the wizard beside him, “Wotcher Lupin!”

“Hello Tonks,” said Lupin, smiling. “Harry, Hermione... good to see you both looking so well.”

Harry grinned to see Sirius and Lupin. Hermione’s mother and aunt stood beside them, regarding the fireplace with no small amount of awe as the green flames became orange once more.

“Mum!” Hermione squealed happily, nearly flattening her mother as she flew across the floor and swept her into a big hug.

“I’ve missed you too darling,” Jean Granger laughed as she returned her daughter’s embrace and gave her a kiss as Hermione’s aunt beamed at them both.

There were hugs to be had all around as Harry and Hermione were welcomed home, and Jean was pleased that Harry no longer flinched at her touch. He was taller than when last she had seen him, and seemed more grown up than ever - in fact he and Hermione both did.

As Harry peered around Number Twelve’s parlour, he wondered for a moment why it seemed so different. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realised that he was looking at the most enormous television that he had ever seen.

Without a doubt, Uncle Vernon - who was obsessed with having bigger and newer model gadgets than the neighbours at Privet Drive - would be apoplectic with jealousy if he could have seen it. Hermione and Dora were equally stunned when they spotted it.

“Ah yes,” Sirius grinned. “I reckoned it was about time we caught up with the muggle world...”

“Oh hush,” admonished Hermione’s aunt, “We know you did it to keep me and Jean occupied and keep us from getting bored.”

“Indeed,” Sirius agreed. “Still, it was one thing to see the occasional muggle film, but I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on...”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry interjected with a huge grin on his face. “How did you do it?”

“Fortunately, Number Twelve’s library is quite exhaustive,” Lupin responded. “Sirius and I located the book with the necessary charms for operating electronics purely on magic after a brief search.”

“And thanks to Remus’s ingenuity, we’re able to pick up American as well as British channels, so there’s always something to watch,” Sirius beamed. “And we picked up a VCR while we were at it...”

“And as you can see,” said Lupin, rolling his eyes and pointing to the electronic equipment next to the TV, “Sirius also purchased the most expensive stereo system available...”

“Well, there’s no point in not having the best as I can well afford it,” Sirius retorted with a grin. “Anyway Harry, there’s also a television and a stereo system in the ‘Bridal Suite’ so that you and Hermione can enjoy your entertainment anytime you please - lazing in bed, or whatever else you’re getting up to...”

Harry and Hermione both turned pink.

“Er... Bridal Suite?” they squeaked in unison, glancing at Hermione’s mother who seemed to be trying her best not to laugh. Lupin rubbed at his forehead, eyebrows raised, trying to hide a wry little smile. Dora chortled at the expressions on Harry and Hermione’s faces.

“Oh yes, we redid your adjoining rooms to be more befitting of a married couple,” said Sirius breezily. “Take a look.” Sirius led Harry and Hermione through Number 12 to their rooms.

Sure enough, they had been remodeled a bit. Harry’s room - now Hermione’s as well - was more or less the same, though it now contained a television and stereo system; the other room had been converted into a private sitting room, and a luxurious bathroom had been added. Hermione gasped when she peered in the wardrobe and found several new evening gowns alongside Harry’s tuxedo.

As promised by Hermione’s mother, a “small” celebration of the Potters’ marriage was held - beginning with an early dinner at another one of London’s finest restaurants, followed by an evening of dancing at a London nightclub. Harry was delighted to see Hermione in an evening gown again. Dora grumbled at being cajoled into dressing up for the occasion.

At the end of the evening, they returned to Number Twelve and retired to the parlour where wedding cake and champagne was served by Sirius and Lupin. And though Harry and Hermione were worn out, they watched a bit of television with everyone before going to bed.

Harry had finished getting ready first. He clambered into the bed sighing happily, though feeling a bit awkward at the idea that Hermione’s mother was under the same roof, perfectly aware of what her daughter would be getting up to. Pushing that thought aside, while waiting for Hermione, he decided to have a go at practicing his metamorphmagus talent, remembering that there was one thing that he had yet to master.

He turned pink when Hermione returned from the bathroom, having finished washing up and cleaning her teeth a bit quicker than he thought she would.

“What are you doing Harry?”

“Oh... er... erm... practicing?”

Hermione peered at him in amusement and she raised her eyebrows. Harry was waiting for her in bed without any pyjamas on and he had looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights after quickly dropping the covers over himself. She had a sneaking suspicion what he might have been working on.

“Hmm... You wouldn’t happen to be ‘practicing’ your metamorphic talent on a certain body part would you?” Hermione asked with a straight face.

Hermione burst into giggles when Harry turned a deeper shade of red. Hermione pulled off her nightie and leapt onto the bed.

“Come on, let’s see it then...” she grinned, lifting up the covers. “Oh!” she said, seeing that Harry was back to normal.

“You sound disappointed.”

“NO! I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean...”

Harry launched a tickle attack and soon Hermione was rolling on the bed with tears of laughter streaming down her face. Hermione ended up on her back gasping for air. Harry kissed her, gently brushing his fingers across her cheeks.

“Next time I’ll practice with your assistance,” Harry said playfully, “I’m sorry, I just got embarrassed.”

“I know,” Hermione responded, still feeling a bit giggly. “But just to be perfectly clear, as entertaining as the idea of playing with you in girl-form is, I want you to know that I will never be disappointed with you as you are right now!”

Harry kissed Hermione again, this time more heatedly, and soon the bed rocked with passion...


Hermione sighed happily as she woke, pressed right up against Harry. It felt good to be with him in his bed again - her bed too now she reminded herself - at Number 12, which she was beginning to think of as home.

She spied the tent in the covers and giggled to herself, feeling rather naughty at the idea of waking Harry in the manner which he enjoyed the most, while under the same roof as her mother. Hermione ducked her bushy head under the covers and wriggled down, taking care not to wake Harry until just the right moment.

As Hermione continued her ministrations, she heard a gasp, and knew that Harry was awake. Grinning, Harry returned the favour. Soon they were both gasping in each other’s arms as they lost themselves to bliss. Sparks of magic crackled; the bed shook and the lamp on the nightstand tumbled to the floor and shattered.

There was a knocking at the bedroom door. Hermione’s head flew out from under the covers in alarm and without thinking she sat on Harry’s face.

“Is everything alright in there,” Jean Granger’s concerned voice called out.

“Y... yes Mum!” Hermione squeaked. “W... we’re fine. I... er... just knocked over a lamp getting out of bed,” she fibbed.

Jean smiled to herself and shook her head on the other side of the door. Hermione had always been dreadful at lying. Jean sighed as she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling a swell of awkwardness at having embarrassed her daughter, and no doubt her son-in-law as well.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione apologised profusely as she leapt up and Harry gasped for air, “I forgot to set a silencing charm on the room. Are you alright?”

Hermione’s expression turned to bewilderment as Harry burst into guffaws.

“Are you joking Hermione?” Harry gasped when he managed to catch a breath, “That was brilliant... I haven’t had such a good laugh in ages... But what happened? Did we release some accidental magic again?”

“I think so...” Hermione nodded, grinning.

She giggled as another wave of naughtiness swept through her. She dragged her husband out of bed and into their private bathroom. They set a silencing charm and the steam rose as they turned on the shower.


The end of the Easter holidays arrived far too soon, and on the last day they had just finished breakfast when Sirius regarded the Potters solemnly; he glanced at Lupin who nodded with an encouraging look.

“Harry, Remus and I have decided to come up to Hogwarts to help keep an eye on things. We don’t want to just leave it in the rest of the Order’s hands...”

“Wait...” said Harry, puzzlement crossing his features, “Doesn’t the Ministry still have an arrest warrant for... er...” It suddenly occurred to Harry that it was a bit weird to call Lupin by his surname, as he was much more family than professor.

“...erm... for Remus?” Harry concluded, thinking it still sounded a bit funny coming from his own mouth. Lupin looked particularly pleased to hear Harry addressing him thusly.

“Indeed they do,” Lupin replied. “However, Sirius and I will be staying in the Shrieking Shack, and I am quite capable of performing a disillusionment charm should I need to leave it for some reason.”

“And my animagus form is still unkown to the Ministry, so nobody except a few key Order members have to know that I am there,” Sirius added.

“But what about Mum, and Auntie Joanne?” asked Hermione, looking concerned. “Will they be able to stay in a magical home by themselves?”

“Ah, well that shouldn’t be a problem,” said Sirius. “Dumbledore spoke with Madam Bones, and she’s agreed to allow Auror Abigail Brixton to take a leave-of-absence to look after Jean and Joanne.”

“Abbie? Really?” Dora’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s the Auror who was interviewing Bob Ogden, wasn’t she?” said Hermione. “The one you like?”

“Yeah!” Dora nodded. “I suppose that makes sense seeing as she’s muggleborn. She should get on nicely with your mum and aunt.”

“That’s what Dumbledore and Madam Bones thought as well,” Sirius agreed. “Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you, is that I’m signing over one of the Black vaults at Gringotts and deeding Number 12 to you Harry... Consider it a wedding present for you and Hermione!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. To say that he was stunned was an understatement. Speechlessly he shared a look with Hermione, who seemed equally flabbergasted. And it was apparent from the astonished expressions on Hermione’s mother and aunt’s faces that this was the first they’d heard of it.

“But... but where will you live after...” Harry began when his voice returned. “ after everything has been settled...” he continued hopefully, wondering if everything would be settled eventually.

“That ought not be a problem really,” said Sirius. “Remus and I should be able to take up residence in Black Manor. It passed into the other side of the family when my mother’s brother - Cygnus - inherited it. But as his daughters, my cousins - Andromeda, Narcissa, and Bellatrix - are all married and share the homes of their husbands, being the next heir in line by rights it belongs to me now.”

“Oh... er... alright then,” said Harry, feeling somewhat disappointed as he liked living with Sirius. Sirius seemed to know what Harry was thinking, as he smiled at Harry and tried to console him.

“Don’t worry Harry, you’ll always be part of my life,” he said gently, “...but you and Hermione will be needing a home of your own.”


When Harry returned to Hogwarts with Hermione, he was surprised to have received a letter while he was gone. The owl had arrived at breakfast the following morning, but it was clear from the stamp that the letter had originally been sent by muggle post. He frowned in perplex when he saw who it was from.

“That’s odd,” Harry told Hermione, “I wonder why Dudley would be writing to me. I can’t imagine Uncle Vernon allowing him to...”

Unfortunately, as classes had resumed, Harry didn’t have a chance to open it. Hermione noticed that Harry could barely concentrate during lessons, as distracted as he was, and took extra care to make sure that her notes were complete. Finally, classes were finished but Harry sighed, knowing that they ought to keep up with their exercise regimen.

“Don’t worry Harry,” Hermione insisted. “It won’t hurt to take one more day off.”

“Yeah... I suppose not,” Harry agreed. “I just didn’t want Professor Moody to think I’d gone soft over the holidays.”

As soon as the Potters were back in their quarters, Harry hurriedly tore open the envelope and began to read as Hermione looked over his shoulder. He was surprised to see the letter covered with splotchy tear stains.

Dear Harry,

I wasn’t sure of sending this letter by regular post, and I hope you get it. I didn’t know what else to do as I don’t have anyone else to talk to, and it has to do with you anyway.

While I was at home for Easter holidays, Mum and Dad had huge row. Dad said you’re not to come back this summer, or ever again. He said he was tired of being bossed around by a bunch of freaks in his own house.

When Mum said that you had to stay because it was the only way to protect you from the man who killed your parents, Dad went completely bonkers. He started hitting Mum when she wouldn’t back down. I tried to stop him, but he gave me a black eye, and then he knocked Mum down the stairs.

She’s in the hospital right now with a concussion, a broken arm, and a few broken ribs. She won’t tell the doctors what really happened. I want to call the police, but she said not to, and that she would tell them that she just fell down the stairs if I did.

I can’t think what to do, and I was hoping that you could help Maybe you could ask that big hairy bloke who told you that you’re a wizard to come and sort things out with Dad. I know Dad’s afraid of him. Please, I really need help.


To say that Harry was shocked when he had finished reading the letter was an understatement. He really wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that Dudley was asking for Hagrid - who had given Dudley a pig’s tail - showed how desperate he was.

Harry glanced at Hermione who looked absolutely appalled, tears trickling down her cheeks. As he remembered the things that Uncle Vernon had done to him, he suspected that Hermione probably couldn’t help but experience a flashback to what her own father had done to her mother. He was proved right when she spoke up.

“That... that’s so awful,” Hermione said haltingly. “As... b...bad as what my dad did to Mum is, it’s not nearly as dreadful as what your uncle did. And... and at least father knows wh...what he did was wrong. I still c...can’t believe you had to live with such a horrible person.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He rather thought it was just as awful in its own way, though he had to admit that it was probably because he loved Hermione so much, and because he really liked her mother. But he also knew that Hermione still loved her father despite being very angry at him.

For himself, as Harry ruminated on the turn of events, one thing was very clear; he hated Uncle Vernon with a vengeance. Harry was none too fond of Aunt Petunia either, recalling how she had once tried to bean him on the noggin with a frying pan - though in retrospect, he had to admit it had been a rather half-hearted swipe. And Harry was more than a bit startled that she had stood up to Uncle Vernon for him.

Harry reckoned that she must actually care for him a bit after all. He supposed that Aunt Petunia still felt something for her sister - Harry’s mother - more than she had ever let on. Feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion, blinking back tears, he knew that he couldn’t leave Aunt Petunia and Dudley in Uncle Vernon’s hands, no matter how afraid Aunt Petunia was to leave Uncle Vernon.

“Hermione, I want to help, but I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know how Sirius would feel about Petunia and Dudley living at Number 12...”

“It’s alright Harry - Sirius will understand. Besides, Number 12 belongs to you now. If you want to have them there, it’s up to you.”

“Oh yeah... right! That’s true...” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that he was now the owner of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“But you should probably talk to Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “I’m not sure how this will affect the protection charms based on your Mum’s sacrifice.”

“Yeah... yeah, you’re right Hermione,” Harry replied, nodding. “But whatever he says, I don’t care about the charms. I’m not going to let Uncle Vernon hurt them anymore...”


Dumbledore peered at the letter from Dudley again and sighed as he considered the ramifications. This presented a serious problem, yet he knew that Harry was right. Vernon Dursley had made it plain, in no uncertain terms, that Harry could no longer reside at Number 4 Privet Drive.

In the end, Harry’s plan made the most sense - not just from a moral perspective, but from a logistical one too. As long as Petunia resided under the same roof as Harry, the protection charms ought to still be effective.

“Very well Harry,” Dumbledore agreed, “I am uncertain how your aunt will feel about the move. It is possible that she might feel as if she is being kidnapped - but if your cousin Dudley accepts your invitation to move to Number 12, I expect that your aunt will join him.”

“Excellent! I’ll send a letter to Dudley straight away...” began Harry.

“I think perhaps that we should move with great haste,” Dumbledore interjected. “I will meet with your cousin immediately, and together he and I shall visit your aunt in the hospital and convince Petunia to live at Number 12. I am not sure what to do about your uncle though. The charms placed on you also protect him from Voldemort.”

“I don’t care about him,” said Harry, his features hardening as his nostrils flared with anger. “He can go hang as far I’m concerned.”

Hermione glanced at Harry sadly, biting her lip. Dumbledore peered into Harry’s eyes with some apprehension, then he sighed and nodded, his features softening.

“I understand your feelings Harry,” he said gently, “Given the hardships that you have borne - that I myself bear some responsibility for - I cannot blame you in the slightest. Truly you are far more forgiving than anyone has any right to expect from you.

“To be willing to take in your aunt and cousin - who themselves were both responsible for much of the abuse heaped upon you in your formative years - is a true demonstration of your sterling character... No doubt your uncle belongs in prison, where he can no longer cause anyone harm.

“Regardless Harry, I cannot in good conscience simply leave your uncle - despite all the suffering he has inflicted upon you - to face the all too likely prospect of being murdered by Voldemort without at least offering him some options...

“I myself will approach him and give him the choice of remaining at Number 4 Privet Drive, or being relocated to some foreign country, beyond Voldemort’s reach. Whatever choice he makes will be entirely up to him... If Vernon Dursley wishes to remain at Number 4, then so be it.”


Draco knew better than to expect to return home for Easter - he never had before - but it was of little concern to him. He was leaving Hogwarts at the first opportunity he got, but there was someone who deserved some retribution before he left. And with a little careful planning Draco would be leaving with a valuable prize indeed - something which would cause his enemy pain, something which Draco deserved more than anything.

Once he returned home, Draco reckoned that Father might be a bit cross at first, but Draco knew that he would understand. There was no way that Draco was going to remain at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was in charge. And with a bit of luck, perhaps he could convince Father to send him to Durmstrang instead.

Following the end of Easter, and several letters back and forth, Draco received two packages in the post. His eyes narrowed when he addressed Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott in the Slytherin Common Room after breakfast. He waited until the rest of Slytherin cleared out for classes. The less people who knew about this the better.

“Right you lot,” Draco addressed his gang with an authoritative glare, “Now don’t forget who’s boss around here. If any of you rat me out, I’ll make sure Fenrir Greyback knows how to find you. He’s done some work for Father before, so don’t think that I don’t know him and that I’m just pretending.”

Crabbe and Goyle nodded their heads fearfully. They had no doubt about that, as their fathers had also done some “work” for the Malfoy Warlock on occasion. Theodore Nott smirked at them. Draco opened the first parcel and his friend and his minions oohed with awe.

Draco’s new wand was a masterpiece of construction, 10 inches of ebony stained wood with a carved spiral along its length. Its grip was a silver serpent’s head which glittered in the flickering light of the common room fire.

“It’s a Gregorovitch Wand made to order based on the specifications of the wand that Snape stole from me,” Draco remarked. “My friend Gehlen says Gregorovitch makes Ollivander look like an amateur.”

Pleased with the way it felt in his hand, Draco waved his new wand about and tried a couple of simple transfigurations. His mug turned into a mouse and scurried away. Delighted, Draco opened his second parcel. His gangs’ eyes all widened, and they gasped as one as Draco carefully unfolded a silvery piece of fabric.

This was much harder to come by, and it was bloody expensive” said Draco proudly. “Gehlen tracked down an Italian Wizard who makes really good ones - but he only makes two or three a year. I was very lucky that he had one in stock.”
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