Word Count: 887
Rating: PG-13 this part
Prompt: Day 2- plum pudding
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns them, not me. This is for mischief's sake, not profit.
Author's Notes: This is for slythindor100 's Christmas challenge picture prompts. Sequel of Part one
"You said Potter might die?" Draco shuddered in the cold December day.
"Not if we can help it." Ron snuggled into the warmth of his mother's hand-knitted scarf and stepped towards the peeling door of Grimmauld Place, calling over his shoulder, "Hermione's working on the counter-curse."
Draco walked towards the house, angrily stomping on a snow pile in passing. He realised it was a bad idea when the snowflakes fluttering around his ankles gave him the unreal sensation of being inside a Christmas ornament. "Is that the reason why you lent me your Put-Outer? Some kind of ritual?"
"You would know about rituals, wouldn't you?" Ron mumbled, taking out his wand which he swished at the door. "You're quite the Curse-Breaker, Bill says."
"I recognised a pattern," Draco said simply. "You wouldn't lend me your cherished device unless it was important."
Before opening the door, Ron hunched his shoulders and said in a low voice, "I hope the house resonates to your magic and welcomes you because of the Black blood which runs thick through your veins."
"So, the house is giving you trouble," said Draco, shuffling the thick soles of his boots against the frayed welcome mat.
Ron's voice was tinged with concern as he gripped the handle and twisted it. "No, Harry's the problem."
"Oi, mate, I'm here!"
"In the parlour, Ron!" Harry smiled weakly at the sound of his best friend's voice and looked up when he heard the approaching footsteps.
"Brought someone with me," Ron said.
"Who is it?" Harry put the Quidditch magazine on the table and peered at the gloomy threshold, his heart beating madly against his chest when he saw Malfoy's face. His cheeks were rosy with cold and the snow had frosted his white-blond hair with a winter garland of its own.
"Malfoy," Harry said tiredly, his gaze drinking the visage he had envisioned the moment he grabbed Voldemort and plunged into the abyss with him. As he grabbed Riddle's coarse woollen cloak, Harry had pictured his parents, Sirius, Remus, and Draco. The thought of Voldemort's smug face as he embraced Malfoy had fired him up with anger.
"Potter." Draco nodded at Harry, his gaze straying to the chandelier where holly garlands and gleaming silver streamers hung down forlornly.
Draco stuck his hands in the pockets of his robes, squinting at Harry. He had bulked up since the last time Draco saw him, right after graduating from Hogwarts. Harry was tanned if listless and Draco could see nothing really wrong with the fit Auror, except perhaps the dull strip of Spell-o-tape around the stem of his glasses.
Ron's face was puzzled in thought as he studied the former rivals like they were knights on a chess game which demanded all his ingenuity to win. The popping sound at his feet distracted him, announcing the arrival of the house-elf.
"Kreacher has put the pudding on the table." Rheumy blue eyes glinted up at Ron and when he saw Draco, the house-elf bowed low. Kreacher's wrinkled fingers played with the edge of the frayed tea-towel that hugged his bony hips whilst he mumbled, "Nice to see the young Malfoy master."
Draco shrugged carelessly.
"Let's have a bite, shall we?" Ron muttered as he walked towards the dining room. He had expected sparks to fly from the encounter of the Gryffindor and Slytherin whose famous rivalry was the stuff of legends at Hogwarts. He hadn't foreseen the lukewarm way the two would react. The problem was deeper than he thought.
Ron's mouth watered at the sight of the pudding, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the rich spicy aroma which bespoke of Christmas days at the Burrow. The dark and crispy treacle of the crust contrasted very nicely with the sugary coat. It had bright green confectionery leaves upon it, lending it a decidedly Slytherin air. Ron didn't mind though, and by the looks of it, neither did Harry or Malfoy.
The two sat on opposite sides of the table, stealing glances at each other as they ate the plum pudding.
Draco waved his fork at the plate. "I must compliment you, Potter. The pudding is nicely aged and the cognac and sherry add an elegant touch which …"
"Didn't bake it myself, Draco," Harry said, heat stirring in his loins at the sight of Malfoy's pink tongue peeking from his pouty lips.
"It has charms! A small anchor." Draco peered down at the gleaming silver amongst the brown cake and smirked briefly at Ron. "Give my compliments to Mrs Weasley."
"Yeah, I will," Ron said shortly. He eyed the last portion of the pudding covetously and in his distraction, he didn't notice the popping sound of Kreacher disapparating.
The house-elf bowed low, his pointy nose almost touching the white marble floor. "Kreacher did as Mistress asked him to do. Served your pudding to the young masters!"
"That's quite nice, Kreacher," a smooth, cultured voice said.
Kreacher peered up timidly at the regal figure which rose from the chair, the black robes contrasting sharply against the alabaster neck and white-blond hair.
"I do hope we can save them," Narcissa Malfoy said determinedly. "Draco is so smart, but sometimes he can't see what is in front of him. My son never could when it had to do with Harry Potter."Part three