A Snake in The Burrow

Part 4

Draco had been, ever since their conversation in the garden, very conscious of the clowder of green eyes which watched his and Harry's every interaction. Even Crookshanks had joined the scurry. Harry didn't speak to him at the supper table, he didn't even look at him, but engaged himself in a conversation with Charlie about dragons. Charlie looked homesick as he talked about Romania and his dragons. For such a brawny looking man, he had a very sentimental faraway look in his eye. It reminded Draco of Hagrid.

Despite the audience, he couldn't help studying Harry. The man was an enigma. Who would have thought that he had such a cunning streak in him – a criminal cunning streak at that. He'd definitely returned from the manor with a certain sparkle in his eyes and a look of life that had been previously missing. And he looked rather attractive in the navy shirt and jeans he was wearing. But his hair was still a bloody mess and he clearly needed looking after despite his apparent heroism.

'For goodness sake, Potter, give me your glasses,' he said, without thinking about the other fourteen people sitting around the table.

'Harry!' came the sleuth of automatic responses despite the sudden hush that had fallen as everyone looked at him in surprise.

Harry had raised an eyebrow in amusement but dutifully removed his glasses and handed them over.

'Well, they're filthy,' Draco said with distain and cleaned them thoroughly with his napkin before handing them back.

'Oh!' Harry said in surprise. 'Thanks, that's better.'

The noise level resumed as people continued their meal.

'Did you have a good day at the Ministry, Harry-dear?' Molly asked across the din.

The noise level dropped to silence again, apart from Xenophileas and Luna who were absorbed in convincing Audrey the benefits of growing dirigible plums amongst the cabbages to stay off caterpillars, or worse still, savoy snakes.

'Yes, very interesting, thank you, Molly,' Harry answered. Draco watched the raven-haired man who appeared to answer with feigned insouciance despite the fact that he'd probably be thrown in Azkaban for what he'd just done, Saviour or not.

'Arthur mentioned you went out on a field trip.'

'Yes,' Harry answered, not looking at either Arthur or Draco. His green eyes sparkled like the emeralds in his mother's favourite necklace. He wondered if Harry had found the jewels behind the painting of the old hag holding a broom, they hadn't even discussed that aspect of the trip.

'Was everything in order?' said George.

'Quite in order. It turned out to be a Mundungus Affair arising from an extraordinary report of a bewitched armchair that turfed out its occupant if they fell asleep in it.'

Draco was entirely sure that Harry had made up the story on the spot. He was also certain they were all talking in code.

'Oh,' said Hermione. 'Did it?'

'I'm not sure. Perkins had problems falling asleep with us watching him. So, I wandered off to explore the house we were in.'

'Was zit an interezting chateau?' Fleur asked.

'Yes, yes it was. The house was very large,' Harry said with a smile in her direction. 'And packed with some interesting artefacts and paintings; a surprising mix of muggle and wizarding pieces. Some of the old portraits had a mean glare and a foul mouth on them. But after Old Mrs B. I can give as good as I get and nothing the threat of fire doesn't sort out.'

There was a terrible glint to Harry's eyes and Draco had to contain his horror; it was his old family portraits Harry was threatening here. He narrowed his eyes at the man holding court, he seemed so very different to the boy at school. And there was a definite hint of Slytherin to his story-telling that reminded Draco of Pansy. She was one who knew how to spin a yarn.