I'll Take That Chance

CH 27 - His Blood Ran Cold

Harry had said goodbye to Draco the evening before and had wanted to see him once more before he left but he didn't want to seem too eager. He wasn't sure if they were far enough along in their relationship yet, but he certainly was. He got irritable during the day if he didn't see him much. He just had such a strong desire to be near him, one he had never felt before, and he hoped Draco felt the same way.

Kreacher had met he and Ron and he was happier than Harry had ever seen him. They had all woken up before the sun and Ron had been in a testy mood until Kreacher showed them the food he had brought along. Harry had forgotten how delightful Kreacher could be when he got to be his own boss. They apparated from McGonagall's office and landed on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place. There were no lights on in the windows and he just stood and stared at the door for a moment.

"Ready, mate?" Ron asked. Harry nodded but he still didn't move to open the door.

"Kreacher is ready," the house elf said and he pushed past them both and made his way into the house. Harry and Ron stared after him, amused. They watched as he disappeared down the hall and out of sight. Harry could just hear the sounds of pots and pans banging in the kitchen. He looked at Ron who just shrugged and grinned.

Harry stepped into the house and paused for a moment, taking it all in. The house had been cleaned up slightly and it seemed more peaceful than the last time they had been there. The troll-leg umbrella stand still stood in its place and Harry had to look away. He would always see Tonks walking through and tripping over it every time. He made his way further in and looked down hallways and into bedrooms and he was reminded of the hijinks that the twins pulled there daily. He looked back at Ron and turned back when he saw him wipe a tear away. Harry was immensely glad for Ron being there and that he didn't have to do this alone.

"Do you smell something?" Ron asked suddenly. He sniffed the air and shuffled past Harry into the dining room. Through there in the kitchen, they found Kreacher boiling things on the stove and lighting a fire. Ron perked up instantly and asked Kreacher if he needed any help.

Harry turned and looked at the table and was once again reminded of the time spent there by so many of the people he had loved and lost. So many of them were gone now, but they had really lived while they were here. Ron came and stood next to him, his arms crossed.

"You know, Harry, this place could really use a fresh coat of paint and maybe some newer furniture. It could really be nice to get it brightened up."

"Maybe after some cleaning and rearranging we can lay out some plans." He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a bin.

***

Sunday morning arrived grey and windy and Draco rolled over in bed and covered his head with his pillow. The window panes were shaking and he knew it would probably be raining by early afternoon. He hadn't heard from Harry since Friday night and for some reason it was making him uneasy. He knew McGonagall wouldn't have let him go if there had been any chance of him being in danger but he still found his fingers drumming anxiously every ten minutes. Not to mention, not speaking to him or kissing him was making edgy. He inwardly rolled his eyes at himself and flung his pillow off. He was acting like a lovesick puppy and he sighed.

He was quite hungry this morning and he had told Blaise and Theo he would meet them for breakfast. He had done most of his homework yesterday and he was going to help Theo get through some of his. He walked into his living area and put a log on the fire, instantly warming the room and his body through his thin pajamas. He was putting another log on the fire when he was interrupted by a tapping at his window. An owl was perched on the sill but as he got up to open the window, it dropped it's note and flew off. He picked it up quickly before it could be blown away and he read his name on the front. He didn't recognize the writing and when he turned it over, his blood ran cold; the Dark Mark.