Draco Malfoy disappeared sometime during April of Sixth Year. To Harry, left behind in Gryffindor Tower while the rest of the school departed for Easter holidays, it didn't really seem so strange when they returned minus one vaguely irritating Slytherin. If he'd bothered to think about it at all, he might have realised that it was part of a pattern that had begun long before, but Harry didn't think about much these days.
It was only when the rumours began to circulate that Harry really took notice of the empty space at the Slytherin tables. As rumours always do, they bred, spawning dozens of variations that passed in whispers and secret speculations from one end of Hogwarts to the other. Ron even swore he'd heard the Fat Friar discussing the mystery with Nearly Headless Nick.
It was a mystery because the sudden and unexplained departure went completely unheralded. Dumbledore made no announcement, and no new prefect was appointed to take Malfoy's place. There was no official acknowledgement of his absence at all, though Snape's face now seemed permanently set in a worried frown, which made a change from his everyday sour one. No one seemed to know what had happened to Draco Malfoy, and Crabbe and Goyle huddled together uncertainly at the long green-draped tables, and Pansy Parkinson went about with red eyes, not speaking.
If one was gullible enough to believe it, Malfoy had run off to join the Death Eaters. He had tried to break his father out of Azkaban and been caught. He had challenged Voldemort to single combat and been killed. He had been kidnapped by rogue Giants and eaten. He had embarked on a Wizarding cruise and been drowned at sea. He had been turned into a toad by Harry Potter and skinned for use in Potions. He had run away from home after his mother attempted to betroth him to Millicent Bulstrode (Ron remarked disparagingly that he could believe that one. Hermione scolded him, and Harry ignored them.).
Harry had never cared much for rumours; a product of being constant gossip-fodder since his eleventh birthday. It would all die down eventually, it always did, and what did Malfoy's absence really matter anyway? He was only Malfoy, and Harry had long since given up being wounded by the barbed words the Slytherin had tried to use against him. Draco's lack was a curious relief, and Harry decided not to think too much about it for fear of tempting providence. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as Ron said.
***
It was the third day of the summer holidays when Harry first came face-to-snout with Ice. It was hot in Little Whinging, and he had escaped early from Privet Drive, taking refuge from Dudley's slow-witted malice in the hedgerow at the bottom of the garden.
Like everything in Aunt Petunia's garden, the hedge was pruned and clipped within an inch of its life, but it backed onto a bit of scrubby woodland on the edge of the estate, and Harry had discovered years ago that if he parted the scratchy privet branches in exactly the right place, there was room for him to squirm through. The hedge backed onto a wilder patch of bushes that formed a natural clearing in the centre, and though there was little natural light, Harry found it strangely comforting.
He was reading a History of Magic textbook by wandlight when a curious rustling noise came to his ears. It sounded as though something was fighting, thrashing around in last year's dried leaves, and cautiously Harry crawled over to the edge of the thicket and poked his head through. Rather to his astonishment, he was confronted with a small furry face poking out of a pile of matted twigs and hair.
Harry blinked in startlement, and the little creature yelped and shivered, attempting to scuttle away but hopelessly entangled in the mud and rubbish. Harry pushed his glasses up further on his nose and began to squirm through the bushes, catching his clothes and hair on the prickly branches as he did so. Immediately the creature jumped and began wriggling frantically, desperate to get away, but it was stuck fast.
"Hey, wait a minute," Harry said softly, making that strange clicking noise people used to attempt to entice cats. The thing � it was either a ferret or a very large rat � tilted its head at him as he held out his fingers carefully, its nose wrinkling. Then it bit him, hard, sinking vicious teeth into the side of his hand.
"Ow!" Harry yanked his hand back, glaring at the thing and shaking blood drops from the small puncture wound. "Damn thing," he muttered, reaching for his wand. "Look, you can't stay there. At least let me sort you out, all right?" This time, when he reached for it, the little ferret flinched but didn't attack.
Well, that's something. Getting a good grip on the back of its neck, Harry lifted the thing to his lap and began examining the mess of tangled twigs and grass that was matted into its fur. "How did you manage to get yourself into such a mess?" he asked rather rhetorically, surprised when he was answered with a squeaky little growl that had an awful lot of menace in it. "All right, all right, I'm working on it," he murmured soothingly, trying to keep the little animal still as he yanked bits of stick and leaf out of its muddy fur.
When not much but dirt was left, he reached for his wand. "Ablutarus." Obediently, the coating of mud and filth detached itself and fell to the ground. Harry inhaled, surprised; the creature was pure white from nose to tail-tip, small greyish-blue eyes glaring at him furiously. "Huh, you must be an albino," he exclaimed in surprise, but surely albinos had red eyes didn't they�? Wasn't there something he was supposed to remember about a white ferret�?
"Oh!" he said suddenly as he turned the creature around, its paws scrabbling futilely at the air, and saw the long jagged gash on its left hind leg, still oozing fresh blood. "Maybe you've got a reason to be in a bad mood," he conceded, trying to remember the healing spell Madam Pomfrey had taught him. He wasn't very good at Medical Magic, but at least he could do something about that cut. He waved his wand carefully, muttering the spell, and was satisfied to see the long gash slowly closing to a livid-looking pink scar.
"That's better, isn't it?" Harry set the creature down on the ground; it limped around in a little circle, testing the leg, then made off determinedly towards the wood.
"Oh no you don't," Harry exclaimed hastily, grabbing for it. It �he, he realised � hung struggling in his grasp, the long lithe body twisting and turning furiously, unable to escape. "You need to come home with me for a bit, until your leg's healed properly. Otherwise, the first fox that comes along will eat you." Although, he wondered, slightly dismayed at his own altruism, he had no idea how he was going to hide the thing from the Dursleys.
Harry managed to make it back to the house all right; apparently Aunt Petunia had gone out somewhere, without seeing fit to inform him. Harry tried the front door and found it locked; he shrugged and wandered into the kitchen, poking through the fridge for something to feed his reluctant houseguest. He was fairly sure ferrets were omnivorous � he'd seen something on the TV once about their being used to catch rats. Aunt Petunia had left his lunch on a covered plate � cold boiled eggs and cheap ham, and not a lot else. Harry pulled it out and held out a bit of egg to the ferret.
He sniffed at it, whiskers twitching, then glared up at Harry with those icy eyes. Harry offered ham instead, and the creature bit him again.
"Ouch!" He set the ferret firmly down on the table, keeping one hand around its midsection in case it decided to take off again. "Look, that's what there is. It's not like I'm eating any better than you, you know," he added with a wry grin. Turning up its nose again, the white ferret attempted to squirm free of his hands. Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Harry picked up an egg and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing hastily.
"C'mon, eat." He got a smaller plate and set it in front of the creature, piling scraps of meat and egg on it. With a disdainful sniff the creature � he would have to think of a name for it; perhaps 'Ice' would do � began daintily nosing through the offered food, hunger overcoming haughtiness.
"That's better." Harry grinned down at it, adding some bread to its pile. It did look like an Ice, with those silvery eyes, like winter frost. Strange colour for an animal's eyes�
He shook his head, suddenly dizzy, and wondered what he was going to do about his unexpected guest. He had some money he'd changed at Gringotts last term � he would have to go out and buy a cage of some description from the pet shop in town, as well as some food, if there even was such a thing as ferret food. Well, someone there could probably tell him. And hopefully, by the time the Dursleys found out about the thing, it would be healed enough for Harry to release it back into the wild.
***
In the event, it was just under a week before the new addition to the household was discovered. Harry had been checking the ferret over to see how it had healed � Ice squirming and wriggling furiously in his hands � when Dudley, bored with half his gang on holiday, barged through the door crowing with delight and tried to snatch Ice away from his cousin. The resulting bellow of pain could be heard halfway down the street as Ice sunk his sharp little teeth into Dudley's meaty hand.
Dudley's outraged yells were joined by Aunt Petunia's shrieks as she rushed to tend her precious son and saw the 'rodent' cowering on Harry's bed, hackles raised.
"A RAT!!" she shrieked, all but climbing on top of her son in her terror. Dudley, glowering and dripping blood onto the faded carpet of Harry's room, backed away as Harry's hand moved ever so slightly towards the wand in his belt.
Just as Aunt Petunia was about to conclude her hysterics with a good fainting fit, Uncle Vernon turned up, slightly sunburnt from having fallen asleep with the paper in the garden. "WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?!" he bellowed, lobster-faced and irate and glaring at Harry furiously. "Well, boy, what've you got up to now?"
"A rat!" Aunt Petunia shrieked again, forsaking her son to clutch desperately at her husband. "That terrible boy's brought a rat into the house!!"
"It's not a rat!" Harry hastily grabbed Ice, who was trying to slither off the edge of the bed, and waved him in the air. "Look! He's a ferret! They eat rats!"
Uncle Vernon puffed up to truly impressive proportions as Dudley settled down to watch the show, grinning. "What do you think you're doing, boy, bringing that filthy animal into this household?!"
Some strange imp seemed to take control of Harry at that moment. Ice was pretty well healed; he could have been out on his own, but� "I have to take care of him this summer. It's for a Care of Magical Creatures project," he found himself saying calmly. And loudly. As he had hoped the mere mention of the 'm-word' had both Vernon and Petunia staring, terrified, at the walls and open window.
"How many times do I have to tell you," Uncle Vernon hissed furiously, advancing on Harry, "you will not mention that unnatural rubbish under this roof!"
"It's not unnatural, it's my homework," Harry insisted stubbornly, catching Ice as he threatened to run off again.
"FINE!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "It stays in here, and you're clearing up its messes! If I find so much as one speck of dirt on the carpet, boy�" he glared threateningly, chins wobbling.
"Dudley's bleeding on it," Harry pointed out sarcastically, smirking at his cousin. At his words Aunt Petunia started, giving one more nervous glance to Ice.
"Oh, Duddy-kins, did the nasty smelly creature bite you?" She hustled her son out of the room quickly, leaving Vernon to glare at Harry.
"You can damn well clean it up!" he barked, looking as if he expected Harry to get down on his knees and begin scrubbing at once.
Harry just shrugged, transferring Ice to one hand as he pulled his wand. "Ablutere."
Uncle Vernon flinched visibly as the bloodstains vanished, and hastily backed out of the room. "You haven't heard the last of this, boy," he threatened.
Harry exchanged a speaking glance with Ice, and shrugged. The ferret was cleaning its snout of Dudley's blood, wearing the most disgusted expression Harry had ever seen on an animal. Once again, he thought that there was something he ought to be remembering about the ferret, but�
It was quite nice to have another creature around. Being nocturnal, Hedwig wasn't much company during the daylight hours, and although Lupin and the Weasleys had promised to visit on his birthday � his seventeenth, the Wizarding age of maturity � that was several weeks away yet. He already knew, from Lupin, that Sirius had left his estate � barring the official Black Family properties � to Harry on his death, and he could guess that the werewolf would probably give him lessons in Apparation as soon as he was old enough.
Harry choked down a bitter laugh. He would rather have Sirius back alive than any number of Wizarding inheritances.
***
Life settled back into something of a pattern. Harry's seventeenth birthday came and went, along with Lupin who appeared on the doorstep and hustled Harry off to a party at the Burrow with Hermione, Neville and Luna as well as the Weasleys. He returned to Privet Drive stuffed full of cake and chocolate, and much happier, only to find that in his absence Ice had managed to escape his cage and had shredded Harry's pillow in a fit of pique.
Suppressing a sigh of relief that the Dursleys had gone off to visit Aunt Marge, Harry Stunned the ferret and dumped him back in his cage, then used his wand to gather the scattered feathers and mend the pillowcase before slumping onto the bed.
"Honestly, I should just let you go," he told the frozen creature. Ice, hearing his voice, managed to shake off the last effects of the hex and glowered at Harry, letting out a nasty little yipping bark.
Harry grinned unrepentantly. "Yeah, I love you too." The scary thing was, that was almost true. Over the weeks he had become strangely accustomed to the little creature's presence, despite the numerous puncture marks on his hands that bore testimony to Ice's temper. It was a comfortable feeling between them, a sort of calm acceptance that eased the burden of life with Harry's execrable relatives � and heaven knew it could do with easing. Ever since Ice's entry into the family, Aunt Petunia refused point-blank to go near Harry's room, her glares grown more vicious than ever. The downside was that she no longer forced Harry to cook any of the meals, however many times he washed his hands, and that meant the quality and quantity of his own meals had substantially dropped off.
Ice yipped plaintively, pushing at his food bowl with his snout and looking up at Harry with big watery eyes.
"Oh, all right," Harry grumbled, levering himself up with an effort and unlocking the cage to get the dish out. In the blink of an eye, Ice had escaped through the hatch and scuttled back up to Harry's bed, burrowing under the threadbare duvet. With a sigh, Harry topped up his 'pet's' food and water and returned to the bed, being careful not to sit on the quilt-covered lump the white ferret made. Ice was tunnelling around enthusiastically, muffled squeaks and yips coming from under the covers, and Harry wondered if he was after 'rats'.
Giving in to amused temptation � he remembered how very playful Sirius had been in his canine form, and how much fun it had been � Harry lifted the duvet and stuck his head inside, joining Ice in his dark cave. With a yip of joy, the ferret pounced on his face and proceeded to mess up Harry's hair beyond all recognition with mauling and tugging at it. Laughing struggle ensued, and somewhere in there Harry's glasses became detached from his face and lost in the tangle of bedclothes. Harry thought distractedly that he really ought to find some spell that could keep the things on his face; it would be bad to lose them in a real fight, even with the Unbreakable Charm.
It was warm beneath the tangled mass of the duvet, only dim light filtering through the layers of fabric and padding. Harry's vision filled with a squirming bundle of pure-white fur, a soft nose pressed up against his face and whiskers tickling his skin. He fell asleep to the comforting rasp of Ice's warm tongue against his cheek.
***
It was dark as pitch beneath the covers when Ice's trembling roused Harry from sleep. He could feel the ferret's shaking against his neck and shoulder, the little creature curled into a terrified ball. Harry had just lifted a hand to try and soothe the animal � did ferrets have nightmares? � when a sound in the room outside made him freeze.
Floorboards creaked again, closer, and suddenly a picture popped into Harry's head, the dark figure of Voldemort leaning over his bed, eyes glowing red and sinister. Desperately, he tried to remember where his wand was�
Hedwig hooted loudly from the window at the exact moment Harry realised that he'd left his wand on the bedside table. There was only one option, and he didn't really stop to think about it. Surging upright with a yell, he flung the duvet over the dark figure by his bed, shoving it to the floor, and grabbed for his wand as Hedwig shrieked owlish imprecations and Ice chittered excitedly.
"Lumos!" Harry was rather surprised when the growing glow of his wand-tip illuminated nothing more than a pile of old duvet on the floor, no human figure in sight. He frowned, then gaped as beside him Ice sniffed the air and let out an unholy shriek, diving from the bed and burrowing beneath the crumpled bedcovers faster than Harry had ever seen him move. A lump � no, two lumps! � slithered through the fabric, gaining speed. Harry clutched his wand harder, readying a Stunning Hex as a scraggly, silver-pawed rat shot out of the far end of the duvet, making for the half-open doorway.
Before he could shout the incantation, though, a blur of white fur made a graceful leap across the floor, landing directly on the back of the fleeing rodent with all four feet, back arched. Harry watched in open-mouthed astonishment as Scabbers � Wormtail � writhed, squeaking shrilly and trying to twist away from Ice's attack. It was too late, though. There was a wet, snapping crack as Ice's jaws came together, and Wormtail spasmed and flopped lifelessly to the carpet.
Several seconds went by while Harry simply sat and stared, Ice pushing bloody-muzzled at the corpse of his adversary and preening himself. Finally, Harry pushed himself shakily to his feet, gripping his wand tightly, and scrambled across the duvet to the little tableau.
Ice looked up at him proudly as he knelt carefully, one paw pushing at the little ratty corpse, which really did seem to be dead. Harry poked at it with his wand, but nothing happened. He didn't know what he'd been expecting � for Pettigrew to suddenly jump up and drag him off to Voldemort? � but this was not it. It was definitely Wormtail, though; one paw was shiningly silvered, and Harry recognised the rat from its years in Ron's pockets.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, looking down at Ice, who was fastidiously cleaning the blood from his muzzle. It was just beginning to sink in; Harry had a dead Peter Pettigrew lying in the middle of his floor, even if it was as a rat. More than that � Wormtail had been the one to betray his parents, the one to murder Cedric on Voldemort's orders. Harry couldn't help feeling a certain sense of vengeance.
Jumping to his feet, Harry hurried to switch the light on, then went to his desk and grabbed a scrap of parchment and a quill. Scribbling a quick explanation, he rolled up the parchment and gave it to Hedwig, who was still perched on the windowsill. "Take this to Dumbledore, as quickly as you can," he told her, scratching at her ear-tufts. With a happy hoot, she shuffled around and hopped out of the window, wings spreading to catch the night air. Harry watched her flap silently away, slipping out of sight almost immediately.
Turning back to the bedroom, he found Ice curling up beside his vanquished foe as though to guard it. Harry couldn't help but smile as he sat back down on the bed, getting out his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. A white ferret�
***
He was almost asleep again when several sharp cracks from downstairs signified the Apparation of someone � more than one someone. Harry sat bolt upright on his dishevelled bed, gripping his wand and trying to think of a strong enough curse to deter Death Eaters.
"Harry?" A voice called up the stairs, and he immediately relaxed.
"Upstairs!" he yelled back, and soon Professor Lupin rushed through the door, coming to a startled halt as he almost tripped over Ice. "My goodness!" He whipped his wand out, poked Wormtail's lifeless corpse with it once, then shrugged and rushed over to Harry. "Are you all right?"
Harry grinned tiredly, tucking his pyjama-clad knees up beneath his chin. "'m fine, he never touched me."
"Hmm." Lupin sat down on the bed beside him as the door creaked open fully to admit Albus Dumbledore, still in his dressing-gown and nightcap, with Mad-Eye Moody stumping along behind him.
"Well, well." Dumbledore knelt creakily, examining first the dead Wormtail, and then Ice, who suffered himself to be handled with a mutinous expression. "Indeed?" Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow, then looked up at Harry. "Well, my boy, it certainly appears to be Pettigrew. You have a very clever� pet." Harry didn't have to look to see that Ice bristled at the word, backing away slowly as Dumbledore conjured a small wooden box with his wand and scooped up the remains of the unfortunate Death Eater. Lupin left Harry's side to assist the Headmaster to his feet.
Moody stomped over, magical eye peering intently into the box. "It's Pettigrew all right. Nasty little sneak," he muttered, turning himself around and clonking right back out of the room again. "Got what he deserved!" drifted up from the stairs.
"Well, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him just as they had when he'd been a child, before years and sadness had muted their sparkle. Harry supposed that the loss of Pettigrew was something of a blow to the Dark Order, with so many Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban. Voldemort would have to find another dogsbody, he thought with exhausted amusement.
"We will have to take him back to the Ministry, but first�" he extended his wand, muttering a few words that Harry, however hard he tried, was never able to recall. A gentle golden glow spread from the wand-tip, wrapping around Harry and diffusing out to coat the walls of the room for a single sparkling moment before it faded. Ice squeaked in astonishment.
"There." Dumbledore smiled at him inscrutably. "A little extra protection for you, to ensure that there are no recurrences of this incident." He nodded to Lupin, and swept out of the door. "I will see you next at the Welcoming Feast," his words drifted back as he Disapparated with a crack.
Lupin looked at Harry worriedly. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"
Harry grinned at him, the memory of Sirius aching in his heart. "I'll be fine, Professor."
"Well, okay." Lupin reached out and gave him a rather surprising hug, then was gone before Harry could blink.
"Huh." Harry looked down at Ice as another two cracks signalled the departure of the two remaining wizards. "Proud of yourself?"
He laughed when Ice yipped happily, rubbing the top of his head against Harry's hand. "Come on, then, I've lost enough sleep for tonight." He dragged the duvet back onto the bed, switching out the light and curling up beneath his covers again as the greyish light of dawn began to filter through the curtains. Ice made a rumbling noise, wrapping himself up into a tiny ball of white fur beneath Harry's jaw. The last thing he knew as sleep claimed him was the warm, comforting sensation of the white ferret slowly licking along his jawbone. He sighed, mumbling words without conscious thought. "Night� Draco�"
***
It might have been nothing but a dream, skin on skin and soft breath along his neck, were it not for the fact that Harry knew these sensations would linger long past waking hours. Hands caressed his body, pale arms wrapping around him, legs twining with his own. A face filled his blurry vision, white skin and silver eyes and ragged blond hair swimming together into a vaguely familiar picture.
Ice's eyes smiled at him. "So, you discovered my secret." The words were whispered against his skin, making him gasp. Harry couldn�t help but arch up into the too-light hands, run his own fingers along soft pale skin, it was all too much and he was still half-muzzy with the remnants of sleep.
"Draco�" he gasped helplessly as delicate narrow fingers disappeared beneath his pyjama top, stroking lines of hot-cold fire along his skin. His own hands tangled in wild pale hair, recalling the softness of white fur as he tugged Malfoy's head down for a clumsy, startled kiss.
It seemed he could feel nothing but touch; he was floating in space, nothing in the world but himself and Draco and God it was wonderful, he had never felt anything like this. Just kisses and caresses; desire and a dreamlike state of unreality as bodies slid against each other, skin to skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of Draco's voice whispering to him, "I'm no one's pet, Harry Potter," but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered; not the future, not the past; there was only the white fire of skin on his, and the slow play of Draco's mouth against his own.