Please read my "About Me" for full details on any and all disclaimers
Chapter Nineteen: Sulking with the Enemy
The days passed quickly for Harry. He was enjoying Sirius' company and the two of them fished together every morning off the long dock, went out in the little boat after lunch, and spent the evenings sitting together on the porch of a small cabin, drinking Finnegan's Swill and catching up. It was the evenings that Harry liked best and he'd even been given over to laughter a few times, unable to help himself, the most acute of his misery slipping away.
They spent a week on the island. Harry checked the locator frequently, but it always said the same thing. Sara was "traveling", Hermione and Ron were usually either "home", "drinking" or "snogging", and he was "on holiday" . He kept the port-key in his pocket, just in case.
He'd been tempted to use it many, many times, but restrained himself. He would not drive himself mad going back there every few hours, just to see if she'd answered his note. It could be months before she went back, or not at all. He could not allow it to become an obsession or it could cost him his sanity.
Dumbledore was on the roof when they landed, stretched out on a chaise lounge, looking through last month's copy of Witch Weekly, left behind by Sara and Hermione. He was on the cover, to his dismay, wearing his Quidditch gear for the last time and holding the Quidditch Cup. He made up his mind to have a few words with Colin Creevey about selling his image, but did he really mind? He decided it wasn't important. Everyone wanted to make money doing what they most loved to do.
Dumbledore smiled over the magazine, but did not put it down.
"Do you find that trash interesting, Professor?"
"Did you know Harry, that according to this, you are heavily weighing the decision to play Quidditch for England? That's news to me."
"It's news to me, too. I never even considered it. I told you it was trash."
"Then it goes into a long story about Draco Malfoy and most of the pictures are of him." Dumbledore smiled, quickly thumbing past a picture of Harry and Sara alongside Ron and Hermione in London, the same picture that hung on the wall inside the tower.
Harry laughed, "I'm so glad I'm not blond and rich."
To this Dumbledore laughed as well. "Yes, what a curse that would be." He closed the magazine and set it aside. "I trust you and your friend had a satisfactory time?"
"It was great!" Harry grinned, "It was what I think camping must be like. I'd never been fishing before and I caught the most bizarre creatures. We threw them all back, of course. Sirius wanted to eat his, but I talked him out of it."
"What else would jump on a wizard's hook, but magic fish?"
Harry smiled. He was filthy, having helped restock the wood supply and clear out the fireplace, and wanted badly to get in the shower and change clothes. "I'd better get cleaned up." He said.
"Just a moment." Dumbledore lowered his voice, "I asked that you return today because an invitation came for you. It's from Draco Malfoy." He withdrew a folded note from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "He would like to meet you tonight in London. If you choose to go I was able to procure one of the Ministry's flats for your use."
Harry read the note.
I want to talk to you. Meet me at The Phantom Friday night, and don't dress like an idiot.
Knowing that Malfoy could very well have important information about Sara, he made his decision at once. "How do I get to London, sir?"