Chapters 171-180

Dragons, Badgers, and Other Animals

Draco scowled at the parchment on his desk and wondered how the hell he had turned into an overachieving pen-pusher and part-time spy.

Then Draco flicked his wand at the scroll and filed it in one of the pigeonholes of the giant cupboard that took up most of the wall opposite his desk. Then he glanced at his watch.

‘Shite!’

He jumped up and grabbed his cloak. Hannah would kill him if he wasn’t on time.

Still, he hesitated in front of the office of his boss. At five o’clock on New Year’s Eve, the Ministry of Magic was almost deserted. Well, he supposed there were still house-elves around. And you never knew where and when an Unspeakable might turn up. And of course there were always Aurors on duty.

It would be the perfect opportunity to search the office one more time.

Why am I so convinced that Umbridge has something to do with everything that has happened? he wondered. Sure, she’s a nasty bit of business. Especially her pink fetish. But since Severus’ trial she hasn’t really tried to do anything. Not even when she could have…

He shook his head and hurried past the door. Go get Hannah from the Leaky. Go home, get changed. Show up at the Burrow. And since when did a Malfoy spend New Year’s with the Weasleys?

The moment he stepped into the Floo, he caught sight of a figure hurrying towards the visitors’ entrance from Muggle London.

Umbridge? In the Ministry on New Year’s Eve? Meeting a Muggle? He must have been mistaken.

oooOooo

‘What?’ Draco asked and glared at Hannah.

But his Hufflepuff lover was not easily intimidated. ‘You look dashing, dear,’ she said. ‘But…if you don’t mind my asking…’

He refrained from pointing out that she would ask no matter if he minded or not.

‘…what are you afraid of?’

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and preened slightly at the low whistle that issued from the mirror. But then he narrowed his eyes. In spite of the new spiky haircut, he still looked like his father in his dark-green satin dressrobes. Only younger.

‘I…’ He noticed that he clenched his teeth. Before the mirror could comment, he turned around to face Hannah. The imperturbable hospitality-apprentice leaned against the doorjamb. She was dressed in practical Muggle jeans, a tight top that he thoroughly appreciated, and blue robes that accentuated the cornflower-colour of her eyes.

He went to her and put his arms around her. ‘What is it about you,’ he asked, ‘that people simply want to lay out their lives before a bartender? Their greatest fears and most secret desires?’

Hannah rolled her eyes at him and remained silent.

He growled at her.

She simply waited.

He glared at her.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer her question. Well, he didn’t want to. But he would. That—well, damn—she deserved an answer if she asked him something.

‘They’ll like you better if you come without your armour,’ Hannah said at last. She slipped away from him and walked to their bed. A moment later she tossed him his favourite green sweater. ‘I like the cufflinks with those little serpents. And ordinary black robes, I think.’

oooOooo

‘Harry and Ginny!’

‘The lovely couple!’

‘Hear, hear!’

‘Harry, my sister’s really a lovely person. She deserves a good husband. So…marry her before she finds one?’

‘She’d have to start looking first.’

‘She didn’t moon over him for seven years. They are destined for each other, you dolt. That’s romantic!’

‘All the best to you, my dears!’

‘And what the hell has Potter done with his hands?’

‘OUCH! Did you absolutely have to step on my toes, Hannah? Couldn’t you have simply said “Shut up, you prat!”’

oooOooo

‘I do not like repeating questions,’ Severus said, frowning at Harry’s brightly coloured hands. ‘But in this case I’ll make an exception. What the hell have you done with your hands?’

‘Tattoos,’ Harry answered with a wild grin. He balled his hands to fists and aligned the knuckles in a threatening gesture, with the backs of his hands to the front. ‘The Ministry’s efforts have helped me to develop a new appreciation for that art.’

On his joint hands a badger growled, a serpent slithered, an eagle beat his wings, and a lion reared up on his hind legs. Black letters swirled along the edges of his hands: ‘Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.’

‘Fuck, Potter —they move!’

‘How…juvenile,’ Severus sneered. ‘Harry Potter decides to cut loose and what is the result? He gets a tattoo of the Hogwarts coat of arms on the backs of his hands. Sirius Black had more imagination than that!’

Draco noticed how Hermione shared his reaction: they both winced. But Hermione also put her hand on Severus’ arm. On the other side of the table Ginny mimicked that gesture, snaking her hand around Harry’s arm.

‘Severus,’ Hermione murmured, leaning close to her cranky husband. ‘Really. Remember Harry’s scars? I think you of all people should understand if he doesn’t want to spend his life with a mark on the back of his hand.’

‘Mark?’ Severus snorted, unconsciously rubbing his left arm. ‘A few scars. I’d hardly call that a mark.’

‘I would,’ Draco put in. He nodded an apology at Harry. ‘I wouldn’t like to see curse-marks from Umbridge’s special quill on my hand day in day out.’ He grinned at Harry. ‘Though I don’t know that I’d want to be reminded of my old school every day either. Anyway, that’s some excellent work you’ve got there. Must have hurt like hell, though.’

Harry managed just the right kind of smile—slightly crooked and definitely bold. ‘Madame Dubois. I figured I should use the opportunity of having such a renowned wizarding artist around.’

Ginny flushed and caressed the hands of her fiancé. And Severus Snape scowled into his goblet, his right hand still curled around his left forearm.