- Death-Minor Character
- Explicit Sex
- Alternate Universe
Chapter 4: Part I
Harry gently pushed the door to his locker closed and wrapped his towel around his hips. He was sweaty, tired and a little achy, but it was nothing compared to his past training experiences. He had to think that most of his teammates wouldn’t last longer than a week where he had been playing a few months earlier.
He’d missed Britain sometimes – the tea with milk, the treacle tart, his house, but nothing that had pulled on him enough to even get him to consider returning.
There were things of course he hadn’t missed – the Weasley’s, his many hyphened monikers, and fucking idiots who thought they could tell him what to do.
And right now it was the latter that was causing him to doubt his decision to come back, even though it was probably Teddy’s only chance of living a normal life.
“Look at me, Potter,” the man behind him spat, his voice echoing around the tiled changing room like he was using a Muggle megaphone. “No one wants you here. Why did you even bother to return?”
Harry pasted on the fake sincere smile that he knew infuriated idiots like Cryde and turned around. The Beater was red-faced and bug-eyed, looking more like a deranged lunatic than a professional player.
“Well I’m surprised you’ve forgotten, Ophichius, because it’s pretty simple, but I’m willing to give you a heads up. I’m here because Oliver asked me to join the team; I’m here for the same reason we’re all here – to play Quidditch and represent our Nation in the International Quidditch League.”
If anything Cryde’s face turned an even darker shade that was more like puce as the Beater gaped at him, obviously surprised his first gambit hadn’t worked. Harry could almost see the new taunt forming in his mind before the man even started to speak.
“I’ve been watching you play and I don’t believe you’re that good naturally, Potter. I’ll be demanding you’re screened by the IQPA for use of… of… Felix Felicis! And…and…I’ll make sure they check your Magic for Strengthening Rituals too while they’re at it. Dark Magic users like you shouldn’t be allowed in a sport where good and Light Wizards play the game and watch from the stands.”
The man placed his meaty hands on his over-large hips and gave a sneer that owed more to the playground than to an argument between adults. The ‘nerni-nerni-ner-ner’ was almost audible and Harry nearly snorted at the threat.
There were random drug checks for Potions use and abuse by the International Quidditch Potions Authority before every International game, but it fell to each team to their own players during training and friendly matches. Even if there were clear evidence of Potion abuse outside a major game, any complaint to the IQPA would just get punted back to the Team Manager. Additionally, every member of the Nundu’s had signed a Charmed contract agreeing not to use Performance Enhancing Potions or Muggle Drugs of any kind. Any infractions would cause the perpetrators Magic to be affected in such a way that it would take away their ability to fly – for life. It seemed in his anger, Cryde had forgotten this small but very pertinent fact, or maybe he thought Harry was stupid enough to have not read his contract thoroughly. Either way, his inanity just made Harry want to fuck with his head a little.
“Why, Mr. Cryde,” Harry cooed, his voice thick with a mock Southern Belle twang. “Do you really think I play that well? Or maybe… well perhaps… you know, there might be another reason I want to be on the team? I mean, I thought I’d kept my interest in you pretty quiet, but obviously I haven’t been doing a very good job. I mean, is this like pigtail pulling, Ophi?” he continued with a coy smile. “Because you know you don’t have to do that with me…”
Harry knew he was going too far, but it had been a long hard week, and the Full Moon was coming up fast. What with a day of testing and running drills for Seamus, and then two days of working with Finnegan and Tim McGee on team plays and tactics, today was Thursday, and the first time he’d even been in the same area as the rest of the team. He hadn’t had a single chance to interact with Tony Paddington even though he’d seen both him and Draco from a distance. He just wanted to keep his promise to Kreature and start the ball rolling to try to find his baby boy some help. But tomorrow was fucking Friday, which meant the weekend would soon be on him with everything he dreaded. He knew he had to try to get things moving before he left today, but he was unsure just how to go about it.
And to add insult to injury, Cryde had been on his back all day; slurs on his playing and parentage, bludgers that were supposed to be wide going narrow so he had to swerve to miss them, hits that should have been pulled in a training situation instead were cannoned at him at all-out-war speeds, and the man had taken every opportunity to put his broom bristles in Harry’s path, seeming to want at least to unnerve him, if not unseat him. It had obviously pissed the Beater off mightily that he’d not even managed to get close to riling, hitting, hurting or diverting Harry, so now he was turning the insults up to eleven.
Well, Mr. Cryde would soon find that words were the kind of weapons Harry had learned to duck from the age of two. After being beaten by Vernon Dursley while being berated for being born, anything Ophichious Cryde could come up with was child’s play.
Harry looked up at the Beater’s fat head, piggy eyes and stringy blonde hair from under his eyelashes and tried not to shudder in disgust at the man’s more than slight resemblance to the aforementioned Uncle. Swallowing down his gorge, Harry reached out and not touching, but just barely a millimetre from his sweaty pink skin, drew a line with his pointer finger down the other man’s chest. He let his Magic leak out a little from his fingertip as he did so, knowing it would send an electric shock of static that would follow the same path.
As his widening eyes watched the movement of Harry’s finger, Cryde went pale and then a colour that in his mind Harry whimsically coined, ‘Floo-Powder Grey’.
“You…you fucking pervert.” The Beater turned his eyes to the room in general while he waved a shaking hand at Harry. “See… see I told you he was SICK!”
Harry’s attention wavered a little as he saw first Tony Paddington and then Draco appear at the door from the showers, concerned expressions on their faces. Both were naked – there was no such thing as body shyness in a Quidditch Changing Room, and unspoken etiquette dictated that overt looking was not polite and should be avoided – but he couldn’t help but be taken by how fucking gorgeous they both were.
Draco had always just done it for Harry, almost from the moment they met at Madame Malkin’s, but Paddington was another kind of beautiful. A sudden unexpected flash of arousal had him imagining them in bed together. Oh how they must look – Draco’s luminous pale skin against Tony’s rich golden tan. As Draco placed a hand on Tony’s arm, a shiver made its way down Harry’s spine in reaction to the visual his mind provided. It was obviously true the brain was the most potent sexual organ, he thought, still caught in the web of his own making. The movement was casual and unremarkable to those around them but somehow spoke to Harry of intimacy; Harry knew they hadn’t made their relationship general knowledge, and it was only because of his conversations with Ollie that Harry had found out they were involved at all. Knowing how he had felt about Draco before he left Britain, Wood had felt it was important he was informed about their relationship before he returned and he was grateful for that, otherwise he could have sabotaged his plans before they had even begun.
A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had him refocusing. Luckily his situational awareness had been honed both by years of dodging Vernon’s fists and the murderous excesses of his colleagues in his previous employment. Throwing his weight onto his back foot and turning his head only an inch or so, he was able to feint to one side and avoid the fist that Cryde was throwing, which was lucky indeed, as the man had put every ounce of his 300lb+ bulk behind it. The wooden door of Harry’s locker splintered with a loud crack, as the great ham of a hand burst through it, throwing several pieces of wood out into the room, accompanied by an audible crunch and the snap of bones breaking.
There was a great bellow of pain from Cryde, and an uproar of noise, most of which was outraged yelling from his teammates – against the Beater. That came as a surprise to Harry, as even though Wood had assured him that he wasn’t as reviled in his homeland as he’d imagined, he’d been sure that when… and it was when not if in his mind… when someone misguidedly attacked him, it would be a group rather than an individual. In his experience cowards tended to run in packs, and his reputation seemed to prevent most individuals from thinking of challenging him.
“What the FUCK is going on here?
Everyone in the room turned to see Oliver Wood standing in the doorway, his expression dark and his Magic giving a quite expressive visual demonstration of the state of his temper.
In answer, many voices clamoured for attention, but with just the raising of Oliver’s hand the whole room fell silent again.
“I don’t want to hear your opinions; I just want to know the facts. Now who was closest?”
To everyone’s surprise, not least Harry’s, Timothy McGee raised his hand. The seventeen-year-old reserve Seeker looked slightly shocked at his own audacity, but with a sideways look over at Cryde, who was on his knees in front of Harry’s locker with tears rolling down his cheeks, he gave a sneer of disgust and straightened his shoulders.
“Uncle… I mean… Cryde was shouting at Lord Potter-Black, saying that no one wanted him here and accusing him of drug use and stuff. So Lord Potter-Black ragged on him a bit, trying to get him to lighten up I think…” Tim looked over at Harry as if asking for confirmation, so Harry gave Oliver a sheepish nod. He really wasn’t proud of causing this scene.
“… and then Cryde started saying Lord Potter-Black was sick and threw a punch at him. But somehow Lord Potter-Black moved – it was so fast he was like smoke,” the kid gushed excitedly. “And he managed to swerve out of the way. Cryde’s fist hit the door instead.”
Harry was completely flummoxed by the young man’s defence of him. After all, he’d been well aware that McGee was Cryde’s nephew, the son of the Beater’s most beloved younger sister. He’d also been warned by Oliver, that Cryde was on a crusade to get the kid promoted from the reserves to the main team. But on Tuesday and Wednesday, all he’d got from the apprentice Seeker was excitement and a willingness to learn from Harry, and he’d been happy to comply. Despite that, he’d expected Tim to stick up for his flesh and blood, and he wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. So it was a surprise to hear the excitement and respect for his feinting prowess in the young reserve player’s recounting. It seemed he had impressed the kid without even knowing.
The room was so quiet you could have heard a fairy fart. Oliver’s expression was stone-like as he glared at Cryde, but the Beater was seemingly too caught up in his misery to notice.
“Someone pull that idiot’s hand out of that door and get him down to the infirmary. The rest of you get yourselves cleaned up and out of my building. I don’t want to see any of you until Monday at 6 am.”
Everybody started moving immediately. The chance for a free day at the start of training was so rare, and their new Manager such a taskmaster, that they’d be fools to dally lest Oliver change his mind.
As Harry opened his mouth to apologise to Oliver, the man just waved him off. “That includes you, Potter-Black. If I’m not mistaken you’ve got a bit of a busy weekend coming up, haven’t you?”
Grateful for Oliver’s discretion, Harry simply nodded and stepped through the rapidly clearing room, his heart sinking a little. Once again he was going to be prevented from making first contact with Paddington, so it seemed the residents of Black Muse had another horrible weekend to look forward to; he just wasn’t sure how many more Teddy could take.
He stood beneath the hard fall of the shower, letting the heat and weight of the water carry away some of the aches he had gathered during the day. It couldn’t remove the ache in his heart though, and he wasn’t sure how he would cope if the worst happened.
What if this was the Full Moon that was a step too far for poor little Teddy?
Clamping down on the grief that threatened to paralyse him, Harry gave himself a perfunctory wash, and rinsed a little shampoo through his hair, his hands rougher than usual in their movements. He felt the air around him begin to heat and knew he was in danger of letting his emotions break down the barriers that kept his Magic hidden and safe. With a simple breath in and out, he was able to pull himself back under control, and he decided he’d just call this day done and go home.
He wrapped his towel tightly around his hips and stepped back into the main area of the changing rooms, only to be met by the two people he least expected to see.
“Lord Potter-Black,” Paddington murmured, giving Harry a deep bow that he knew spoke not only to the standing of his title in the Magical world but to the regard in which the other man held him.
“Lord Paddington,” Harry countered, his bow just as deep. While his House may have been the senior of the two of them, he was very aware that he needed the other man’s help. There was also nothing he had seen or heard that told him the Keeper’s personality and disposition was undeserving of his respect.
Considering Harry was dressed in nothing but a towel the whole thing was ridiculous of course, but Harry had learned a lot about etiquette during his time away from Britain, and he’d spent a lot of time during his youth very angry that he hadn’t been taught the manners he needed in his social position and which he thankfully now sported with aplomb.
He looked over at Draco and gave him a smile, unsure whether the man would want to continue the charade, but Malfoy just gave him a sweet smile, real affection in his silver-grey eyes.
There had been a time when he had longed for the opportunity to be face to face with Draco again – his mind had written all kinds of scenarios for that happenstance, and his fantasies had been the window-dressing that had kept him from losing his mind when he was being held at the Ministry, awaiting his fate.
“We were wondering if you’d like to come for a drink…I mean, I know Oliver said you needed to get home, so please don’t feel you have to, but you know…”
Paddington placed a big hand on Draco’s shoulder, and the look of amused affection Tony gave Draco made Harry’s heart hurt with longing. He’d pretty much given up on ever being with Draco again after Oliver had let him know about their relationship, but it seemed his heart hadn’t got the memo yet. Close up, Paddington was just as gorgeous as he’d looked from afar, only much, much taller. There was something about the way he was standing, though, that didn’t make Harry feel lesser just because he was so much shorter.
Then it caught up to him just what Draco had been asking. A drink with them was exactly what he needed, for all kinds of reasons, but mostly because in the circumstances, this was the kind of break he could only dream of and he was really ready for his shitty run of luck to be ended for today.
“I’d love to come out with you, but I’m afraid it’ll probably have to be in the Muggle world. It’s still very difficult for me to go anywhere in the Magical world without causing a riot.”
“Well if it doesn’t seem too forward we have a really good cellar with a good range of Elf-Wines that are low enough in alcohol to fit in with our training regimen, and I know Betsy, our kitchen Elf, left a big chunk of Manchego on the counter for us to eat when we got home. We have honey from our own hives and some really amazing coffee to go with it…?” Tony smiled at him, and the welcome in the bright shine of his green eyes surprised Harry, making his breath catch.
“That would be great,” he heard himself say, without his brain engaging at all, and he was rewarded with a pair of truly incandescent smiles. He felt that implicit in the invitation was the expectation that he would spill some of his secrets; talk about things that had been long buried, as Draco never could leave something interesting alone, but right at that moment he didn’t really care. Strangely, he found himself trusting these men with all of that, even the things for which he would have to willingly bare his soul.
Draco couldn’t believe Harry was finally in their home. Tony took the Seeker Side-Along to the Paddington townhouse, while Draco took himself to the Manor, and then immediately Floo’d to the cottage as was his normal routine. By the time Tony and Harry landed outside the Wards, Draco had already managed to change the Ward notifications to admit Harry and also opened a lovely bottle of 1879 Elf-White. Betsy had already prepared the dishes of honey and coffee grounds, cutting the large wedge of cheese into bite-sized fingers ready for them to snack on. Poking through the larder he’d also found some of the amazing cured meats that had come in Nonna DiNozzo’s last care package, including mouth-watering Culatello, prosciutto, and coppa.
It was the work of moments to get the wine served, and they were soon sitting around the lounge room with a warm fire blazing. Everyone was beginning to relax, although Harry looked a little tense and uncomfortable. Draco couldn’t stand for him to not feel at home there – after all, he was hoping that it would, in fact, be home, at some point in the hopefully not too distant future.
While Tony kept Harry busy with a little small talk about the cottage, Draco took a few moments to surreptitiously study this new and somewhat improved version of Harry. Physically, Harry was a far-sight better than he’d been the last time Draco had seen him, which was leaving the Ministry immediately after his trial. Then he had been thin, pale, and walking like a man ten times his age, as if each and every step was painful.
Now he looked fit and healthy, if a little tired, but then the first few days of professional training were always a shock to the system. He was slightly taller than Draco remembered, although still quite short for a wizard of his age. Those Muggles and Dumbledore had a lot to answer for. He almost wished they were still alive so he could exact some justice, but he knew his anger was wasted on the dead and quickly put it to one side.
Surprising himself, as facial hair had never been of interest to him, Draco had to admit the beard was interesting and he longed to run his fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked. But it was the eyes, those beautiful blazing green eyes that had enthralled him right from the start, and they were just as amazing as ever if a little more shadowed. There was also a sense of weight and wisdom which hadn’t been there before.
All in all, the man was gorgeous. Suddenly, he couldn’t help himself from beginning the conversation he hoped would lead to the culmination of his dreams and clarification of his ‘sight’ for the last…forever.
“Harry…” he began, not really sure what he was going to say. But it seemed his mouth was way ahead of his brain. “Where the fuck did you go and what happened?”
He winced a little as Tony gave him a look of incredulity. It was Draco that had insisted they should go slowly with Harry – not to rush him into telling them about that horrendous time in his life – but obviously Draco’s stupid brain had decided it’d had enough with the waiting portion of the evening, or week, or month!
There was a moment of strained silence, as Harry picked up a piece of cheese, dipped it in the honey, and delicately sprinkled a little coffee over it. He popped the bitter/sweet/salty morsel into his mouth and chewed for a moment.
Draco was just about to apologise when Harry looked over at him, and the little quirk of his eyebrow had Draco almost melting into his chair with relief.
“Draco never was any good at waiting,” Harry said to Tony with a devilish smile that had Draco’s heart racing.
The smile fell from Harry’s lips and he leaned forward, placing his glass of wine on the table before resting his elbows on his thighs. He took a deep breath, and Draco could almost feel him gathering his nerve. He wanted to shout at Harry that it was alright, he really didn’t need to know. As long as Harry was alright and finally here then he was happy to leave it at that.
“When the battle was over I slept for nearly three days. Poppy kept me in the Infirmary, only allowing the Weasley’s and Minerva in to see me, even though I wasn’t injured. I was just suffering from Magical exhaustion, the after-effects of being hit with Voldemort’s AK and being thrown back from the afterlife.”
Draco looked over at Tony who was staring at Harry in horrified amazement. This was his lover’s first opportunity to get an up-close view of Harry and his lack of care for his own life… and death. Draco was hoping that in their future together Tony would never have the chance to have to live through that horrific happenstance.
“I helped with the work on clearing the dead from Hogwarts and shoring up the fabric of the building for about four weeks, but then Molly convinced us that it was time for me, Ron, and Hermione to go home to the Burrow and get some real rest. To be honest, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more, and that right there should have been my first clue, because I hated that crooked little house, with its lack of privacy and the way Molly ruled over everyone and everything.”
Harry ran his hand over his bearded chin and shook his head. Draco hated to see how defeated the memory left him looking.
“Days turned into weeks with the world outside those four walls looking less and less inviting. Ron and Hermione were already together at that point and had been since just before the Horcrux hunt. So, Ginny and I were pushed together and started to orbit more closely around each other. Again, I know that if I hadn’t have been helped along by Molly and her Potions Store, then I would have immediately put Ginny in her place. While she was attractive enough, and I’d enjoyed the few kisses we’d had at school, for many reasons I never considered her a viable candidate for a partner, not even in passing… and not because I don’t like some women, as with hindsight I now know I’m Bi with a bias towards men. But at the time it all seemed so natural and I didn’t even question my growing attraction to her.
“It makes my blood run cold to consider it, but I have to believe that if they hadn’t been so impatient they would have succeeded in their plans. You see, Molly’s problem was that she and Arthur were getting desperate for money – it turned out they had mortgaged the Burrow just before I came to Hogwarts in order to afford to send Ron and then Ginny to school. It had been arranged by Molly, with Arthur agreeing because I think to be honest he was just too weak to go against her. I’m almost glad he died at the Battle because I’m sure he would have been mortified to know what they planned. Either that or he would have been Potioned too, perhaps.
“Once I got out of there, I found out that Dumbledore had acted as their guarantor and the term of the loan was, surprise, surprise, eight years. So, the Goblins were soon going to be knocking at the door demanding the first payment of the capital amount.”
Draco had hated Molly Weasley for as long as he could remember – although originally it was courtesy of his father’s indoctrination – he was also very aware that she was the brains behind the large family. So he wasn’t at all surprised that she was capable of making such far-reaching plans.
Harry leaned back in his chair and took a delicate sip of his wine, rolling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing slowly.
“Being on a time-crunch they decided to push up the timescale. Rather than continuing to draw me to Ginny slowly, using Attractant Draughts and the odd Compulsion or five, and because I’m sure they couldn’t have afforded the ingredients to brew Amortencia, instead they decided to dose me with Amor Primus Potion… Which showed a stupid lack of foresight, as they never even considered that Ginny wouldn’t be my First Love…”
‘No’, thought Draco, his pulse throbbing at his neck in time with his rapidly bearing heart. ‘Because you’d told me you loved me long before that.’
Harry glanced over at Draco, almost as if he’d heard the thought and his slight smile was touched with melancholy.
“So it what, broke the compulsions?” Tony asked, frowning slightly and seeming to miss their byplay. “I mean… well, it might have given you a nudge but to break them…?”
“No. What it actually gave me was a blazing headache, so bad that I had to lie in a dark room for several hours. By this time, Ginny was out of patience completely because, for reasons that would come out in the trial, she was planning to get pregnant as soon as possible. So without telling her mother, she followed me into the bedroom and dosed me with a Lust Potion. She sat on the edge of the bed to ‘watch over you, Harry’, waited for the Potion to take effect, and then proceeded to strip me and climb on to take a ride.”
The anger Draco felt was not mitigated by the fact he’d sort of guessed this is what had happened, mostly from the very sparse information that had accompanied the run-down of the Witches sentences in the papers. If Ginny Weasley wasn’t in New Bastion, he would’ve been hunting her for sport. Tony’s hand on his thigh told him his thoughts were written all over his face and probably in his aura, and he blew out a sharp breath to settle his temper, giving his Magic a little tug to reel it in.
Harry smiled reassuringly at Draco, but there was still some sadness behind it that Malfoy hated to see. However, it was obvious from the relaxed set of his shoulders that Harry was still alright with continuing his story, so Draco made himself sit back and tried to relax.
“The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, but what Ginny didn’t know was that before I went to my room Molly had given me a Pain Potion that included some feverfew and butterbur.”
Suddenly it made sense to Draco, and he could see why Harry thought himself lucky for this to have happened. “Oh, which would have interacted with the Saffron in the Lust Potion and neutralised it.”
“Exactly. Not only was my migraine gone, but so was my erection…”
Tony snorted out a laugh, “So, ‘Not tonight dear, I don’t have a headache’!”
Harry grinned, and it made Draco’s heart sing to see it. Despite everything he’d been through, his Harry was still in there; still fighting, still surviving. After hearing what had happened, more than ever Draco wanted to give him a life where he wouldn’t have to fight anymore; where he could be cared for, cherished… loved.
“I quickly Accio’d all my belongings – and let me tell you there was stuff in that place from my vaults, that I definitely hadn’t lent, gifted or otherwise allowed the Weasley’s to have – and I Apparated to the Bank. I just wanted to get somewhere safe, where I could receive healing and flushing draughts, and get a thorough and authentic record of what had been done to me. Luckily, Chief Ragnok had already accepted my abject apologies for breaking into Gringotts, so I didn’t get thrown out on my ear, and the Goblins were more than happy to help me feel safe. I mean… and this took me a while to admit to myself… she had attempted to rape me.”
He scrubbed his hand across his face and frowned. “And the Bank was safe, although to be honest, I couldn’t quite believe it at first. There was a flurry of activity around me, but I was too out of it to realise exactly what was happening. Eventually, I was given a flushing draught and proceeded to throw up eight times before everything was out of my system. Seems that there were all manner of Potions at play in my system – some of which were unique to Molly, and some that she seemed to be continuing to dose me with that had first been administered many years before.”
“What kind of Potions, and who had been dosing you for that long,” Tony asked, his expression showing just how horrified he was at what he was hearing. Draco was so shocked, he couldn’t speak.
“Oh, not much,” Harry replied, his tone sarcastic. “Just several high-strength Power Limiters, and Loyalty and Compulsion Draughts, all from Dumbledore. They were just breaking down so they must have been very strong, unless Molly had continued to dose me at school. Then there was Fraternitas Elixir, which the Goblin healer thought would have encouraged my brotherly feelings to Ron despite his frankly dickish behaviour for almost every moment of our friendship. That was the one which we were sure was still ongoing thanks to Molly.
“Ironically, there was also a Contraceptive Potion, which apparently was in the Pumpkin Juice at Hogwarts – that was courtesy of Mme Pomphrey and was designed to last a term. Everyone at Hogwarts would have been dosed with it as each new term began, the rationale being that it would prevent unwanted pregnancy. Better sex education would have been a far less invasive method, but still. I suppose it would have worn off while we were on the Horcrux Hunt, but apparently the School Elves hadn’t been told to stop administering it, so every meal for the first day we were clearing the school up it was in every glass of juice we drank. I can’t even be mad at her for Potioning me without my permission as, apparently, Ginny had been dosing me with Attractant Potions as far back as my second year. However, the Goblin Potion Master thought they’d probably been bought from one of those fake ads on the back of Witch Weekly and were so cheap they were hardly more efficacious than coloured water. He only found traces of them because he was doing a deep diagnostic.”
Harry’s gaze flicked over at Draco and then away again, and the look in his eye told the Chaser he wasn’t going to like what Harry said next. He noticed that Harry’s expression had gone terrifyingly blank, his usually expressive eyes shuttered. Draco felt his shoulders tense as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
“The Goblins also found a Blood Keyed Revulsio Potion, primarily courtesy of Snape, but with a helping hand from another Wizard.”
“Who were you Keyed to be repulsed by, Harry and by how could other Wizard be involved?” Tony asked, obviously not quite understanding the byplay between them. Draco was unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer. He had a pretty good idea but he really didn’t want to be right.
“It was keyed to Draco, but the blood wasn’t his. Only a Potion Master as talented as Snape could have made it under the circumstances and even then… well our personal interactions proved that it didn’t really work that well. We were lucky we kept things so secret, otherwise I have to believe they would have taken more rigorous measures.”
“But if it wasn’t Draco’s blood then it must have been distilled from the blood of a very close fam…” Tony’s eye’s widened as his head snapped back to look over at his lover.
Draco knew immediately what Harry was going to say, and he didn’t need his sight to tell him who the person was… but oh, how wished he’d been wrong.
“The blood was from Lucius Malfoy.”