The Sleeping Beauty Curse

Chapter 21

"You're very welcome," Robards said with equal cheerfulness. Then his brows pulled together, and he leaned in closer. "You two coping all right? Given the, er, situation?" He looked around the room suspiciously; it was daytime, but the room was still full. Harry didn't even know everyone there. Astoria appeared to have brought along a number of her old Slytherin classmates. Harry could tell they were Slytherins because of the way they weren't staring at him in unabashed awe, the way most people did when they met him for the first time. That, and the fact she'd introduced them that way. She'd given him a hug, too; Harry was still trying to get over the shock.

"Yes, we're doing fine," Draco said with equanimity. "I'm quite enjoying having the Boy Who Lived constantly by my side. It's a bit like having a pet dog."

"Woof," Harry said sarcastically, and Narcissa, also sitting close to Draco, let out a very un-Narcissa like snort. Harry nearly fell off his chair.

"Speaking as Draco's mother, I can't say I'm not concerned," Narcissa said, her icy formality snapping back in place as she gave Robards a haughty stare. "The Ministry have bungled the protection of my son once. Now they seem unable to put any basic safety precautions in place at all, other than the dubious protection of a nineteen-year-old boy."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I'm twenty."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry winced.

"You should be ashamed," Narcissa continued to Robards, wrinkling her nose as if she smelt something bad. "If you can't even clear the doorstep of the scum that lie in wait for a glimpse of my injured child, you should be putting other arrangements in place for his protection."

"If only there was somewhere I could recover in privacy, where no one could bother me," Draco suddenly said, sardonic to the extreme. "I just can't think of anywhere that fits the bill. Can you, Mother?"

"What a good idea, Draco," Narcissa said, sounding like it was anything but. "I so enjoyed my last visit there."

"Mother," Draco said, a warning note in his voice. "It's my life, not yours."

Draco and Narcissa were practically glaring at each other now, and Harry exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Robards, who looked equally baffled by this private argument taking place in public. Was Draco talking about Malfoy's Cove? The idea of going back there made Harry feel faintly queasy, but at the same time, he could see why it might be a good spot for Draco to regain his strength. They were back to square one, when it came to their magical connection: the moment Harry let go of Draco's hand, the link would be lost again. They could go back to the Department of Mysteries and get Kevin to come back out from under his desk, where he was probably still cowering in fear of Harry's questions, to spell two fresh objects to link them again, Harry supposed. But . . .

A warmth flooded Harry at the thought of a topic that so far had remained unraised between himself and Draco. In the day, Draco was surrounded by people. By his mother. And at night, he took Dreamless on Healer's orders. He'd tried to refuse the dose, but Harry had insisted. He wanted Draco better. As fast as possible. Because he cared about him. Because the house wasn't the same without Draco slouching around, book in hand, reciting crap poetry at Harry. Throwing things at the wall when he got angry. Moaning about taps. And he wanted him better, too, because when he was better they could . . . They could . . .

Draco gave him an ungentle nudge in the ribs. "Well?" he demanded.

Harry nearly jumped out his skin, realising he hadn't been listening. "Well what?"

Draco gave him a look that could have flayed skin. "Shall we spend a few days at Malfoy's Rest, for our own protection," he said. "Of course, Mother has offered to go with us," he added acidly. "She's kind that way."