Resorted

Chapter Thirty Four

12 Grimmauld Place, this was Harry’s home.  Dumbledore apparated them both to the park just in front of Grimmauld Place. It was decorated with flowers: tulips, lilies and more. There were a few benches by the fences and two sheds in each back corner. “Before we go in, I would like to talk to you, maybe in that shed over there.” He pointed to the one without the destroyed window. Slowly, they made their way over, Harry crunching a few leaves left from people picking apples from the trees. “Did you like Horace?” He asked Harry while walking to the shed.
“Er…”
Harry wasn’t sure if he liked Horace or not. Yes he was nice in a hospitality type of way, but something seemed off- like the way he spoke about the Black’s. He seemed much too vein and, despite him trying to save himself, too shocked a muggle born could be the most intelligent.

“Horace,” Dumbledore began, releasing Harry the responsibility of answering, “likes his comforts. He also likes the company of the powerful, famous, and the successful. He revels in the feeling he has influenced these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat- more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or talent...”
“So, he would want me to be a part of this... Slug Club thing?”
“Most certainly, Harry. Horace is a wonderful man, but very... ambitious, he takes pride in having close friends in high places.” Harry didn’t know how to reply so he was thankful when Dumbledore carried on, “Well... we best go in then. I’m sure Draco would have missed you very much over the past month. Same as Miss Parkinson and Mr Zabini. I believe Miss Granger has gone to the Weasley’s for the remainder of the holidays.” Dumbledore opened the gardening sheds door that rattled because of the unsteady lock.

They approached the old houses front door and Harry couldn’t be more exited. The wizard hit the door twice, gently placing his knuckles on the wood then removing them. The same person that answered the door when Draco was carrying Harry. “We weren’t expecting you till morning, cub.” He looked more worn out and tired than the day after a full moon. Remus rubbed sleep from his one eye- he didn’t look presentable, like he just crawled out of bed (Harry suspected he did). “Well come in, it isn’t warm out there.” The Werewolf stepped aside letting in Dumbledore and Harry.
“Thank you for inviting me in, but I must be going. Business to attend to at the courts in a couple hours.” The man told Remus, “May I use your fireplace?”
“Oh, certainly.” He gave a shocked look like a why did you even ask?

While Remus escorted Dumbledore to the fireplace, Harry finally looked at the place. It was definitely different to when he last visited... it was clean. Like, actually clean. And, to his delight, the portrait of that awful woman was gone. Chairs were polished, curtains were patched up but they looked brand new, the fireplace was dusted- it was practically sparkling.

“NO! NO PLEASE!” Harry heard a shout from upstairs, it sounded so familiar... it couldn’t be. He never had a nightmare that bad before when Harry was with him. “STOP IT! P-PLEASE!” The boy couldn’t take it anymore, the pain he felt from Draco shouting was too much to bare, hearing his lover in pain.

Immediately, he sprinted up the stairs not bothering to be quiet- he took two steps at a time. Harry turned the clean corner with precision and twisted the polished knob. Draco was lying, no he was tangled, in the bed sheets. Tossing and turning, sweating, shaking, quivering as the shouting had subsided to a mere whimper.

Harry closed the door, placing a silencing charm over the room as to not disturb anybody else more than the noises had and climbed next to Draco in the bed. He held the boy by the waist, that seemed to stop him from shaking. Soothingly, he cooed to Draco, “Draco, it's Harry. Come on, wake up. It’s just a dream Dray. Wake up Dragon.” At that, the blonde leapt from the bed to stumble on the floor, sweat droplets drying from the sudden cold. “Hey, hey, shh. It’s just me Draco.” Harry joined him on the floor, wrapping his arms completely around the blonde... he hadn’t been eating either. Harry could feel his ribs, each individual one that he wouldn’t hold Draco properly, in fear of crushing him. “H-Harry?” The whimpering boy asked clutching, like it was his lifeline, at Harry’s over-sized (more like Dudley’s) shirt. Collecting the loose fabric in balls in his fists, burying his head in the chest of his lover. He took in the scent he hadn’t smelt properly for two months. Sure, some of Harry’s clothes were in the wardrobe and maybe Draco wore them to smell Harry, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t get the full nature smell. The one that made him imagine spring, the time of year everything is given life, that it all blossoms and becomes beautiful.