Rising of the Dark

HARRY POTTER AND THE RISING OF THE DARK

by Meta4. Chapter 12.

The Eleven (Elven?) Commandments

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1. Thou shalt bow to J.K. Rowling, creator of the Potterverse!

2. Thou shalt acknowledge all characters created by Her.

3. Thou shalt acknowledge the trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

4. Thou shalt not read the story herein if Slash offendeth you.

5. Thou shalt not read this story if thou art not old enough so to do.

6. Thou shalt not pass the work herein as thine own.

7. Thou shalt not gain profit from distributing the work herein.

8. Respect thy mother and thy father - only read this work when they are out.

9. Thou shalt acknowledge My copyright

10. Thou shalt contact Me if thou likest or thou detesteth this work.

11. Thou shalt never piss off an Elf...

HARRY POTTER AND THE RISING OF THE DARK

by Meta4 meta4@meta4.org

CHAPTER TWELVE:: Release and Resolution.

"Shall I tell you one problem with boarding school?"

"What's that then?"

"No real privacy," I said to Harry as the various members of Gryffindor filtered back into the tower after the day's activities.

Harry thought about this for a second. "Be right back."

A few moments later, he reappeared holding what looked like a carefully folded cloth and a sheet of parchment.

He evicted a second former that had sneaked his spot on the sofa in the few seconds he was gone and sat back down next to me.

"These are my two most valued possessions," Harry explained. "This is an invisibility cloak, and..."

"What, you put that on and you become invisible?"

"That's the general idea."

"Cool!"

"And this is the Marauder's Map. It shows you where everyone in the school grounds is."

"Looks like a blank sheet of parchment to me," I observed.

"Watch," said Harry, producing his wand. He touched the tip of it to the parchment and said "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

On the parchment almost immediately there appeared a full floor-by-floor diagram of the castle and its grounds, including all of the secret passageways and the various passwords and actions needed to get into them.

"Dare I ask where you got this from?"

"Actually, my Dad and his friends made it when they were here. Like father, like son I suppose," he grinned mischievously.

"Wow... Hey look - there's us!"

Sure enough, on the parchment in the room labelled 'Gryffindor Common Room' were a pair of dots, one labelled 'H. Potter', the other 'L. Blackdon'. Harry's eyes scanned over the map until he spotted 'A. Filch' in the dungeons, complete with an adjacent 'Mrs. Norris'. 'Peeves' was drifting in and out of various dungeons ahead of Filch, obviously leading the caretaker on a wild goose-chase of one sort or another, and there were no signs of any members of staff in any of the main corridors.

"Cool - coast's clear - let's go."

"Where to?"

"The Shrieking Shack. You want privacy - you're gonna get it!"

"Do you mean the privacy or..."

"Whatever you want," he grinned.

As inconspicuously as we could (which was in all likelihood extremely conspicuous given the amount of loud whispering and giggling) we made our way from Gryffindor tower and out into the cold. It was still snowing and for a moment, the feeling of despair and despondency that came with the snow threatened to become dominant. Harry, however, chose that exact moment to pinch my bum, knocking the darker thoughts for six.

He led me over to an extremely large, gnarled Willow tree. As we approached, the snow that had collected on its contorted branches started to fall in chunks to the ground. It took me a moment to realise why the snow had become dislodged - the tree was moving! It looked almost as if it was stretching its muscles, rather as a cat does just after it wakes up.

"This is a whomping willow," explained Harry. "It was put here to beat seven bells out of anyone and anything that goes near it."

"And so we're near it because..."

"We have to get into that passageway by its roots."

"But you just said that it would..."

Harry took a lump of fallen branch and pulled the few remaining twigs from it. He then started to walk closer to the tree and, as he said, it began to flail its branches defensively.

Quite deftly, Harry waited for the larger branch to swish by before poking a knot in the trunk with his stick. The moment he made contact with it, the tree froze, becoming as still as its less gifted cousins.

"C'mon," whispered Harry. "Just duck through into that tunnel."

I did as I was told and found myself in a not-quite-tall-enough-to-be-comfortable tunnel that looked as if it had been forgotten for many years. Dead vines hung through the opening and lumps of moss were scattered around some of the larger cracks in the walls and floor. The air was cool but not freezing down here, allowing drips of water to splash to the floor at various irregular intervals.

A second later, Harry landed behind me to the whooshing sound of the whomping willow straightening itself up and calming down a little.

"C'mon," he said, taking me by the hand and leading me down the tunnel into the darkness. So absolute was the absence of illumination that I totally lost all concept of distance. By the time a dull-grey dot appeared directly ahead of us signifying the end of the tunnel, I could not have said if we'd travelled a couple of hundred meters or three-quarters of a mile.

As we emerged into the shrieking shack, I did know that it certainly felt good to be stood properly upright again. As I stretched, Harry hugged me to him and unreservedly placed his lips on mine and kissed me hard.

"Welcome to the Shrieking Shack!"

"Friendly place," I chuckled.

Looking around in the dingy light that fought its way through the dusty, threadbare curtains, I could see we had just emerged from a wooden panel in a small hallway with the front door at one end and a narrow, rickety staircase that led up to the floor immediately in front of us. Off to the right was another door and an archway that led through to what appeared to be another room.

"Who owns this place?" I asked as we creaked our way up the stairs.

"Hogwarts does, but it's not common knowledge. See, one of my Dad's friends was a werewolf, and..."

"A werewolf? No way!"

"Really! Dumbledore was the only headmaster to ever allow a werewolf to attend Hogwarts as a student. He had the tunnel built between the school grounds and the shack so that every month Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and my father could come here to keep Remus company while he was away from school. Anyway," he said, pulling me into one of the rooms on the first floor, "This is our place now, and we can make as much noise as we like and do whatever we want. Hence Shrieking Shack..."

"Sounds rather appealing," I said as we both eyed the King-size four-poster in the centre of the room. "The place could do with a little spring cleaning though," I added.

With a couple of thoughts, the old threadbare drapes had been replaced by brand new ones. The bare wooden floor was covered by a lush, deep-pile carpet and the temperature of the room rose by a good few degrees. The dirt and dust that seemed to cover every surface in the room magically lifted itself away, leaving the room in the majestic state it once knew.

Another thought brought the old candles in their lamps to life, augmenting the silvery light from outside with a deep orange glow.

"Hmm - quite romantic, if I do say so myself."

Harry took me by the hand and led me to the bed. He sat down on the edge and carefully removed his glasses, hooking them over the foot-board. He then proceeded to shrug off his cloak and start to unbutton his shirt, never breaking eye contact with me for a second. Taking the very strong hint that he was in no mood for wasting time, I began to pull my boots off and unzip my trousers. Within a minute, we were both clad in only our boxer shorts, each of which were tented quite significantly.

Harry stood and faced me, the tip of his erection playing ever so gently over my own through the two thin layers of cotton. I ran my fingers through his thick, wayward hair before pulling him towards me so I could kiss him.

Our lips met and, not satisfied, I inserted my tongue into his mouth. He quickly allowed me entrance and sucked me in deeper. He'd now wrapped his arms around me, crushing our midsections together deliciously. I in turn ran my hands up and down his smooth back, tracing the course of his spine with my fingertips, causing him to shiver.

I couldn't easily concentrate on the feelings Harry was invoking whilst standing, so I pulled away from our kiss and fell backwards with him on top of me on to the bed. Immediately he crawled down my body and squeezed my testicles through my boxers and started to tease me by allowing his fingertips to venture up the leg holes and gently play over my bollocks. My dick twitched, aching for some attention, but Harry was intent on playing this his own way.

After a few moments he knelt up on the bed, looking me straight in the eyes. As he did so, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers and pulled them out and then down to clear his hardon.

His elegant six-and-a-half inches were revealed to me, surrounded by a concentrated clump of black pubic hairs at the base and supported by a pair of plump, full-looking testicles. At this sight, all memories of my magical abilities, my non-human side, the Rising of the Dark and the implied disappearance of my Father were temporarily banished. There was only one thing on my mind now, and he was stood, stark bollock naked, right in front of me.

Harry moved towards me once again, this time sliding his hands over my stomach. As he did this, he straddled my midsection, leaned in and kissed me once more. As I tasted him again, he allowed his fingers to roam over the upper half of my torso, tracing his fingertips over my nipples (which immediately stiffened under the attention) and gently playing with my underarm hair.

Whilst we kissed, I felt him lower his hips slightly, rubbing the tip of his erection around over my boxers. Once or twice his phallus managed to reach under one of the leg openings or through the fly, allowing me fleeting contacts with him, causing us both to shiver.

Harry continued to play around like this for another couple of minutes before I could no longer stand to be hampered by my boxers. With a quick flip I turned him over so I was now on top, gazing down into his deep emerald eyes. His hair had now succumbed to gravity and vacated his forehead, allowing me to see his scar unobscured.

As briskly as I could, I stepped backwards off the edge of the bed and pulled my own boxers down causing my dick to slap back to its upright position as soon as my boxers were clear. From this new vantage point, I could fully appreciate just how beautiful Harry looked.

His shins were draped over the edge of the bed and spread enough to allow his testicles to nestle comfortably between his thighs. Although his shins sported quite a covering of his same black hair, it soon faded to non-existence as it progressed up his body and left his pubic area totally devoid outside of his bush.

Moving further up, he had a very light treasure trail that led up from his pubes, although this was now obscured by his high state of arousal. His chest alternated from flat to slightly concave as he breathed, allowing his ribs to show around his light but well-defined muscles.

Still further up was a broad pair of shoulders leading finally to his handsome face. He was looking rather hungrily at my own stiffy and I felt in no position to deny him something he wanted so badly.

I climbed on to the bed next to him and turned around so we were head to toe before straddling him once again. With his dick now in such close proximity to my face I could now start to pleasure him properly. His scent was a whole lot stronger here, carried to my nose from the heat of his loins. If it was attributable to pheromones, hormones or just the fact that it was Harry's scent I can not be sure, but it took nearly all of my willpower to stop myself from ejaculating there and then.

I took his hardon in my hand and gently pulled his foreskin all the way back, exposing his delicate dickhead. Gripping him slightly more firmly, I then stroked back up his length, causing a large drop of precum to appear at the tip. I extended my tongue and licked the sweet, sticky droplet away before exposing his head once more and swirling my tongue around it.

Harry bucked his hips and let out a loud groan, serving only to spur me on. He tasted just as he smelled which encouraged me to take as much of his length as I could in his mouth.

As I did so, Harry did the same to me, engulfing my erection with his hot, extremely dexterous mouth. As he sucked on me, I could feel the tip of his tongue darting round, probing intensely at the tip before squirming its way between my dickhead and my foreskin.

I started bobbing my head on Harry's dick and felt him start to hit the back of my throat. As a reflex reaction I swallowed, which just caused Harry to buck against me even harder, building up a steady rhythm which complimented my head-bobbing.

After experimenting slightly, I found an angle where I could allow a larger portion of Harry's nob into my mouth and down my throat, which again caused me to swallow involuntarily. As Harry groaned again, I could feel his hot exhaled breath playing over my testicles. I shuffled my arms so that instead of running parallel with his body they were now pointed inwards towards his bum, giving me access to his arse cheeks and hole.

As we sucked each other, I began to explore his crack, prodding and poking with my fingers. His arse felt firm as he thrust into my mouth, subsiding into his hot, twitching arsehole. I extended my index finger and allowed it to play over it in time with his thrusts until the tip gradually worked its way inside. The heat was unbelievable yet, as we sucked and pumped against each other, I could feel it gradually begin to loosen.

Within a couple of minutes, I had nearly my entire index finger inside Harry. Every move and sound he made I could feel through him and it made me want to bring him as much pleasure as was feasibly possible. As I twisted my finger round, massaging and teasing his insides, I found a lump that I presumed was his prostate.

Gently yet firmly, I pushed against it and was rewarded with a little jet of precum squirting into my mouth. Harry also squeaked and bucked his hips a little faster as I touched him there, and a second later I felt my own arse being investigated and poked.

Realising that his backside could be a whole new source of pleasure for my Harry, I carefully withdrew my finger and used my now-liberated hands to move from his bum to the base of his spine. I tried to lift his pelvis a little more to allow me to get my head between his legs, however it was just a little too awkward to manage. Instead, Harry pulled my left arm back with his free hand, leaving me balancing on three limbs. He then brought his leg up behind my arm and lodged it over my shoulder. This had the desired effect of both lifting his arse and opening it a little wider.

Taking this as a very positive sign that I was allowed to continue, I dipped my head into and beyond his crotch, finally spying his most intimate place. Not quite knowing what to expect, I extended my tongue and took a trial lick over his arsehole. Finding nothing but a slightly more musky Harry-taste, I pressed a little harder and squirmed my tongue into his backside. My tongue had never received such a workout before, but nevertheless it did a wonderful job of squirming and pushing its way into him.

All the while this was happening, Harry's nob was rubbing on my Adam's apple, leaving a sticky trail of precum all over my throat. Harry himself was not idle during all of this, instead sucking harder than ever at my erection that was buried to the hilt in his mouth.

Suddenly, he pushed me up enough so that my erection slipped from between his lips.

"S... Stop a sec," he panted. "I need you to fuck me."

With a final slurp that caused him to squeak with a shivery pleasure again, I withdrew my tongue and manoeuvred myself so we were face to face. He leaped on me and kissed and hugged me with such force he almost winded me, but it was a secondary consideration as our two dicks mashed up against one another. He moved off my mouth and started licking his own precum off my chin and throat as I continued to hump up against him.

Once he'd cleaned me down with his tongue, he indicated that I should rest up against the padded headboard of the huge four-poster. I did so and watched as Harry shuffled himself so he was kneeling over my dick. He took hold of my erection and held it vertically, gently guiding it towards his arse. He looked at me and smiled slightly as I felt my dick start to push against his rosebud. I could feel him relax and open himself to me as my dickhead was gradually engulfed by him.

The heat and pressure he exerted were excruciatingly pleasurable and I could do nothing but watch in amazement as my dick gradually disappeared into him. Eventually he came to rest with his nuts sat cosily on my lower stomach. His arsehole was involuntarily spasming as it desperately tried to get used to my dick, but each time he clamped down I had to suck in breath and clench the bed sheets to prevent myself from blowing my now very overdue load into him.

Harry's dick was twitching and jerking too having lost none of its hardness as I entered him. We stayed like that for a few moments before either of us dared move. We were now well and truly coupled, about to express our total love for one another as physically as we could. I smiled up at Harry as he beamed back at me. His hair was even more wayward than usual, slightly matted with sweat, but to me he looked perfect.

"I wish I could see you clearly," he said, looking ever so slightly sad for a moment.

I smiled back at him and took his head in my hands, gently stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. "You can," I said, willing it to be so.

He gasped audibly as his vision suddenly pulled into focus. "Thank you," he whispered almost inaudibly and leaned in to kiss me. I let my arms fold about his neck as we kissed once again, this time with the added stimulus of my dick in him. He began to swing his hips back and forth, gently pulling away from me before re-impaling himself. The angle we were now at ensured his forward thrusts pressed his dick into my tummy, his rearward ones rapidly sending me towards orgasm.

We began to pick up the pace, sensing each other's very real and very urgent need for release. Between us, we were sure there would be other opportunities to repeat this experience and hence were eager to climax as well as experience the other's release.

I moved from Harry's mouth and started to nibble his neck as I began to hump my hips up to meet his own downward thrusts. I felt Harry's breathing become more irregular and his heartbeat accelerate even further. His nails dug into my back as he pushed himself down on to me as hard as he could one final time, his arsehole clamped tightly around my dick as he began to cum.

His sticky liquid jetted up between us, each spurt accompanied by an even harder squeeze of his arse followed by an almost total release of grip on me. His little whimpers and grunts as he came pushed me to ejaculation as well, pushing into him in a very staccato fashion as my testicles produced squirt after squirt for Harry.

Even after there was no liquid left to expel both of us continued to climax, each of us grunting and moaning in extreme pleasure until our respective climaxes gently subsided into an incredibly peaceful and satisfying lull. Almost not daring to move in case we should shatter the moment, we gently released each other from our do-or-die embraces so we could look at one another. Harry's peaceful green eyes shone out from under his fringe, shouting his satisfaction at what we had just done. I leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips as he still sat straddling me.

"I love you," I said to him. "You are more than I could ever deserve."

"I could say the same," he smiled back. "But I shan't. As you said earlier, perhaps we were meant to be together. Whatever the case, I haven't felt this at ease with someone in my entire life. I love you too, Liam."

We gently lowered ourselves sideways ensuring that we stayed coupled. Harry snuggled his hips down further against mine, squeezing as much of my half-hard dick into himself as he could whilst his cum dribbled down off our chests onto the sheets. Wrapped around and tied to each other, we fell into the most fulfilling and peaceful sleep either one of us could remember.

==========

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed scrutinising the hairline cracks in the plaster on the ceiling. Damn he was bored. He'd had a pleasant enough lunch with Mrs. Pettigrew and found that she was actually quite fun to talk to and was not the insufferable bore of an old lady he'd pictured. Yes, she did have some very strange mannerisms, but then again he couldn't think of a single person over the age of sixty who didn't.

His mind meandered from Mrs. Pettigrew to the substantially more interesting character of Will. Rather out of character for Draco, he found himself confused. Normally he was very decisive and had a clear-cut, empirical stance on any problem or issue that came his way. Nonetheless, he found himself faced with a quandary over which he could not make a snap decision. There were no clearly defined choices: Everything seemed rather fuzzy and nondescript.

Here he was, a Pureblood wizard descended from a long line of wizards that were generally either famous or infamous in their own time, the present generation being no exception. Tradition dictated that he should not strictly engage himself even with halfbloods, never mind a muggle! And yet Will Stanton had, in the past couple of hours, provided Draco with something that had not been given to him before without condition: Friendship.

The more he thought about it, the more Draco was astonished that Will had even given him the time of day after his - well, insolence - when they first met. He cringed inside as he thought back on that moment, and then marvelled at how Will had brushed it aside without saying another word.

In contrast, he had been brought up to harbour grudges and to never forget any wrong against him. That way, he could remind the perpetrator of his or her wrongdoing at a tactically advantageous moment.

Draco felt ashamed of himself - another emotion that had rarely, if ever, crossed his mind. Usually he was proud: He was a Malfoy, the latest in a long line of great, Pureblood wizards. He was good looking and prided himself in his appearance, taking great satisfaction in the looks he attracted. He was wealthy and was never afraid to remind people of how powerful and affluent his family was.

Will by contrast was humble: Genuine, true and with none of the pomp and posturing to which he was so accustomed when dealing with his 'friends' in Slytherin. Come to think of it, as blind as he had been to it before, Will had many of the attributes he'd observed (from a respectably aloof distance, of course) in Harry Potter. He'd just mis-interpreted it before, and this made him even more annoyed at himself.

'Actually, no,' thought Draco. 'I was brought up to think like that. Perhaps under different circumstances...'

He frowned at the ceiling, which was still there and still had the rather annoying cracks in it.

'Sod it,' he thought. 'I'm fifteen and I can make my own mind up about people. And myself,' he pondered.

Draco was more than a little disquieted about how he felt for Will. He knew how his father would react to him fraternising with Muggles. He also knew how his father would react to Draco telling him he was attracted to another boy. The combination of both, he knew, would be truly explosive.

Deciding that he didn't particularly want or need the grief from his Father at that time, he resolved to a 'don't ask, don't tell' idea. He knew that given his Father's connections he would never be able to keep up any form of pretence for an extended period, but there would be no harm in enjoying himself in the mean time.

He resolved to turn over a new leaf. He would become the person HE wanted to be rather than towing the line and emulating the character he was expected to become by his immediate family.

'Fuck tradition,' he thought. He smiled as he imagined himself saying those very words to his Father back at Malfoy Manor. Safe in the environment of his mind's eye, he could see just how comical his Father's rages appeared and how petty or prejudiced some of the 'values' he held actually were.

With this new philosophy in mind - one that appeared to resolve all facets of his quandary quite successfully - Draco sat himself up off the bed and went over to the large oval mirror mounted on the dressing table opposite.

He looked at his slicked-back hair and decided that while it was perfectly acceptable - nay stylish - at Hogwarts, it was more than a little ostentatious in the Muggle world.

He also had to do something about his clothes: They were far too light for this rather severe weather without the use of a winter cloak which again was, by it's very nature, unacceptable for passing himself off as a Muggle.

He kicked himself mentally for this lack of foresight, scowling at his reflection in the mirror. He hated not having planned for every eventuality, but as a slight compromise with himself he did decide this wasn't the kind of scenario he could have reasonably expected. Ten hours ago he would never have conceived of trying his best to fit in with anyone, much less a load of Muggles. Now, however, it was at the very top of his list of priorities. As much as he wanted to avoid doing this, he knew it was the only way he might be able to get some vaguely 'normal' clothes.

He walked downstairs and into the drawing room. "Um... Mrs. P.. I mean Auntie Pettigrew?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any old clothes that would fit me, would you? Like a pair of jeans and a jumper or something?"

"I was wondering when you were going to get out of those stupid things," she chuckled, nodding at Draco's clothes.

Ordinarily, he would have countered that with a monumental diatribe explaining how expensive they were and how they'd been tailor made just for him. Once his superiority had been established, he would then launch a verbal assault at his opponent, making sure he went into excruciating detail as he pointed out all of their own garments' inadequacies and shortcomings, usually with a couple of highly personal insults thrown in for good measure.

However, with his new resolve, he felt forced to agree with her: They were rather silly and totally inappropriate for muggle-world use, and laughed along with her.

"I think I might have some of my friend's son's clothes somewhere - you look to be about his size. They used to stay here quite a bit,"

"Thanks," smiled Draco.

"Where are you off to?"

"Oh... Uh... N.. Nowhere in particular. Just exploring..."

"You ought to go over and see Will - I bet he's just as bored as you are."

"Oh, OK," smiled Draco, pleased someone else had come up with the idea rather than him having to suggest it.

She led him back upstairs to the airing cupboard and after a good few minutes' foraging, she'd managed to produce a pair of jeans, a couple of shirts, a sweatshirt and a very warm-looking jumper.

"There you are," she smiled, offering each article up against the appropriate parts of his body before handing them to him. "Oh, and here's a belt, too - he wasn't quite as slim as you, Draco."

"Is it all right if I take a bath?" he enquired.

"Help yourself, dear. There should be plenty of hot water," and with that, Mrs. Pettigrew rumbled off down to the drawing room once again.

Wasting no time, Draco retrieved a towel and some shampoo from his trunk and locked himself in the bathroom. As was common to houses that age, the bath was a rather large, free-standing enamel affair with taps that would have looked more at home on the side of an oil tanker than in a bathroom.

He filled the bath with steaming hot water, stepped in and felt the tension in his muscles begin to wane. He washed his hair a couple of times to ensure that all of the gel he used to slick his hair back was well and truly eradicated before moving on to the rest of his body.

He winced slightly as he caught the finger that had been leaned on by me in the Hospital wing on the tap. He thought back to how vicious he'd been to Hermione and, in retrospect, decided he was well out of order and in the grand scheme of things he'd got off quite lightly. Next time he saw her, he'd apologise.

Draco's thoughts turned back to washing himself. As he did so, he still couldn't help but be proud: He freely acknowledged that whilst he wasn't the strongest or most muscly person in the world, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

Moving the focus of washing gradually down his body had its usual effect, culminating in his seven-inch erection lying flat against his taut stomach. Draco took a deep breath as he wrapped his long, slender fingers around his hardon, allowing himself the luxury of a few strokes before forcing himself to stop. The light was already fading, and he wanted to get to the Stantons' before it became completely dark.

He finished washing, rinsed himself down and dried himself off with the emerald green towel, complete with the Slytherin House coat of arms embroidered in the corner. He smiled as he caught sight of the serpentine logo. Oh how shocked and horrified his peers would be if they knew his thoughts now. But that in itself pleased Draco - he liked being unpredictable and perhaps even a little mysterious. True, this wasn't the kind of unpredictability he usually had in mind, but he felt happier with the decisions he'd just made than any of the petty scheming that he'd undertaken back at Hogwarts.

Smiling to himself, he began to dress in his 'new' clothes. Mrs. Pettigrew had been right in thinking that her friend's son was slightly larger than Draco: The jeans were doing their level best to part company with his hips without the assistance of a belt. Once secured in place, Draco surveyed himself in the mirror. His hair was still wet and arranged randomly by the buffing it had received from his towel, but the Potter look didn't suit him.

Instead, he took a brush and in a departure from his normal combed back style, he parted it centrally so that it hung down in curtains either side of his eyes. 'Yes - not bad at all,' he surmised to himself.

Pleased with the overall outcome, he took a moment to clean up the bathroom and then trotted downstairs to say goodbye to Mrs. Pettigrew.

"My word!" she exclaimed. "A Malfoy wearing jeans! I need to get the camera..."

"I'm going to walk over to the Stantons' - I'll probably be back in a while,"

"Don't worry, dear," she smiled. "You go and have fun. If you think you're going to be very late, just get young Will to phone me." Seeing the blank look on Draco's face, she got up again and went to the bureau. She scribbled a number on a sheet of paper and handed it to Draco, explaining that he should just give him the paper and he'd know what to do.

He thanked her once again for the loan of the clothes and set out into the cold afternoon air towards the Stantons' house.

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Well, that's all for the moment. Let us know what you think (good or bad) at meta4@meta4.org, or visit our web site at http://www.meta4.org.