Protection (Drarry)

Chapter Four

Harry blinked. Malfoy's words penetrated the drunken fog that was his brain. "What do you mean?" he asked, fighting to keep from slurring his words.

"Well, amongst the escaping wizards who my charming father beat to the door," Malfoy's lip twitched again in distaste. "There was one face who I recall from non Death Eater activities."

"Who?" Harry asked excitedly.

Malfoy sprawled his fingers lazily along the table. "Twilfitt."

"Bless you."

"No, you idiot," Malfoy drawled. "Twilfitt, as in Twilfitt and Tatting's. Clothing shop, Diagon Alley."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"Nothing? You peasant. Fantastic robes there. My mother goes there all the time."

Harry snorted. Malfoy lobbed the Firewhisky lid at him. It missed by two metres.

"Hmm," Malfoy muttered, looking carefully at the bottle. He seemed to make a decision, and poured them two more glasses.

"Well, we have a name for Shacklebot, then," Harry said, grinning and swallowing his Firewhisky. For some inexplicable reason, it seemed to end up mostly down his shirt front. He looked up to see if Malfoy had noticed, but Malfoy appeared to be too busy inspecting the table with his face.

"I think I might go take a shower," Harry said, and stood up abruptly.

Malfoy shot up into a sitting position. "Hang on!" he said. "There was something else."

Harry sat back down. Staring up, bewildered, at the table, he made a readjustment and sat on the seat.

"There was something really important," Malfoy continued, staring seriously at his glass as if it could tell him the answer. "Oh, yes!" He smacked his hand down on the table. "Who was the man in the cell and what did Voldemort want with him?"

"Voldemort?" Harry repeated. "You said Voldemort."

Malfoy waved him away impatiently. "Who was he?"

"Um," Harry focused very carefully. "Grindelwald," he said, feeling a surge of success at pronouncing the correct syllables. "Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand."

"Right." Malfoy nodded. "Because right before he killed him, Voldemort cast Leglimens. I wouldn't expect someone as utterly useless at Occlumency as you to realise it - Snape told me all about how utterly, utterly pathetic you are, really, Potter, why can't you grasp such a simple concept - but the evidence was there."

Harry frowned. "Why didn't I see it in the vision then?"

"Well," Malfoy speculated, waving his glass around for emphasis. "While The Dark Lord seemed unable to stop you entering his thoughts when his emotions were at their highest and he was at his most vulnerable, he was hardly going to make the same mistake while he was performing such a complex skill as Occlumency."

"Fine," Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Why do I care? He's dead. I have the Elder wand. Well, not literally, but figuratively... in terms of ownership anyway... more like I'm fostering the Elder wand..."

"You have the Elder Wand?" Malfoy interrupted with a frown.

"You were there!" Harry exclaimed. "You were pivotal!" He thought for a moment. "You had the Elder wand for a while!"

"I had the Elder Wand?" Malfoy's brow furrowed in deep concern. "What's the Elder Wand?"

"Oh geez." Harry dropped his head on the table. "Why was this important?"