Samsara's Curse (Drarry Slowburn)

THE FIFTH DAY

On Saturday morning, they woke up with a start to Harry's phone buzzing rapidly on the nightstand. It gave a whole new meaning to rude awakening. 

Groaning, Harry rolled over and looked at the incoming caller ID. It was Hermione, so he couldn't just ignore it. He valued living too much to do such a thing.

"Hullo?" he asked tiredly, blinking like a drowsy frog.

Draco could hear Hermione's voice on the other end. She seemed frantic and highly anxious. "Harry! It's noon. Why does it sound like you just woke up?"

Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes, "I dunno . . . we were out late–" It was true, but far from the full truth.

"That's besides the point," Hermione sniffed, interrupting his excuse. "Did you get the Daily Prophet paper I sent you?

"I just woke up, so no."

Draco couldn't see Hermione's face, but he just knew she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you should. Malfoy, too," Hermione concluded. And with that, she hung up.

"She couldn't have just told you what it said?" Draco asked with a surplus of morning grumpiness, having been abruptly summoned awake.

"I guess not," Harry said through a yawn, "but it's Hermione, so she must have a good reason."

-x-

When they made it downstairs, neither of them saw the Daily Prophet paper. They couldn't. A massive pile of letters cluttered the space below the mail slot.

Upon closer inspection, they were all from people Harry went to Hogwarts with. Neville, Cho, Fred, Dean, Seamus, and even Lavender Brown had sent him letters. About what, he had no clue. He found the buried Daily Prophet paper at the bottom of the pile. Harry saw the headline first, and his jaw went slack. Draco peered at it curiously from over his shoulder:

THE BOY WHO LIVED SPOTTED WITH THE BOY WHO DIED

Yesterday morning, Harry Potter was seen in downtown London with Draco Malfoy—someone the wizarding world believed to be dead for six years. The funeral was in early 2013, two years after the wizard's disappearance. The Malfoy heir seems to be alive and well, however, much to our bafflement. After witnessing this peculiar rendezvous, we're all wondering one thing: was Harry Potter involved with his disappearance?

Harry scoffed indignantly and quit reading, wrinkling the enchanted photo of him and Draco as he crushed the paper in his hands. They were pictured walking, arms linked, over a snow-covered bridge. Harry never imagined needing to watch out for wizarding world paparazzi in Muggle London, but clearly there was no lengths a sleazy reporter wouldn't go to for a well-selling tabloid.

Draco didn't say anything. He had to let the information process first, and even then, he didn't have time to formulate his words before a small red envelope slipped through the mail slot. It was a Howler, but more specifically, it was a Howler with the Malfoy family crest stamped over the wax seal.

Draco held his breath as he picked it up, and Harry braced himself, knowing what would come. He had witnessed many Howlers before, and they tended to deliver messages rather explosively. Draco's fingers unstuck the seal, and the letter unfolded into a fanged beast that was all mouth, with a forked red ribbon for a tongue.

"DRACO MALFOY! I AM BESIDE MYSELF WITH GRIEF. YOU RAN OFF EIGHT YEARS AGO, WITHOUT A WORD, LEADING US TO BELIEVE YOU WERE DEAD. WE HAD A BLOODY FUNERAL FOR YOU, AND ALL THIS TIME YOU'VE JUST BEEN AVOIDING US! AFTER ALL WE DID FOR YOU! THIS WILL BECOME A PUTRID STAIN ON OUR REPUTATION. ASTORIA IS HEARTBROKEN, AND WE ARE THOROUGHLY  DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. WE SPECIFICALLY WED THE TWO OF YOU TO PRODUCE AN HEIR, AND YOU ARE A FOOL IF YOU THINK YOU'D BE ABLE TO DO THAT WITH ANOTHER MAN—LET ALONE ONE THAT IS NOT PUREBLOOD–"