Title: The Courting of Angau

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

Pairing: Harry/OC, Ron/Draco (side)

Rating: M

Warnings: Ignores Ron turning traitor in GoF, Dumbledore doesn't die in HBP AU, EWE, language, slash, not necessarily a positive portrayal of most of the Light side, and other things that I can't give away because it would ruin the surprise.

Summary: When faced with the toughest decision of his life, Harry is given only one choice. Then again, he was never good at following the rules. Harry/OC slash.

The Courting of Angau

Prologue

"I'm sorry, my dear boy, but there's nothing that anyone can do. You'll simply have to accept your fate." Dumbledore's eyes gave off a dull twinkle, as if expressing his sorrow in their dimness.

Harry clenched his fists tightly at his side, but kept his expression carefully blank. "I see, sir. Thank you for telling me. If that's all, may I go?"

Dumbledore blinked, and he replied hesitantly, "I suppose you may. Are you certain that you don't wish to discuss anything at all with me? I am, after all, here for you."

Harry shook his head, his nails digging bloody half-moons into his palms. "I'm quite certain, Headmaster. This all seems perfectly clear to me; I know what I must do."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Of course you do, Harry. You always do what is right. That is the quality I most admire in you."

Harry stood up, and inclined his head in Dumbledore's direction. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly. "Would it be alright if I made the arrangements myself? Having someone else do it seems…so impersonal."

"How right you are, my boy!" Dumbledore answered. "Naturally, I will not interfere in any way. It is so good to see you already making an effort; I'm sure in time you will be very happy."

Harry smiled genuinely for the first time since entering the office. "I'm sure I will be, Professor. I'm sure I will be."

oOo

He stepped out into the hallway, absentmindedly examining his crimson hands. Draco Malfoy pushed off the wall with a sigh, and waved his wand half-heartedly at Harry's wounds. "Episkey," he muttered, and came to walk in stride with Harry. "So you're really doing it, then?" he asked in irritation.

Harry grinned at him crookedly. "Did you ever think I wouldn't?"

Malfoy snapped back, "Perhaps I thought that you might've grown a brain since hatching that foolhardy scheme of yours!"

"Nope," Harry cheerfully replied. "There's still dust rattling up there."

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why I bother helping you."

Harry suddenly turned serious. "Because I'll release you from your life debt and help restore honor to your family. I need you, Malfoy. Please don't back out on me."

Malfoy snorted, and swept past him. "Don't be stupid, Potter. A Malfoy's promise is worth more than ten of your precious Firebolts."

Harry chuckled. Malfoy was predictable until the end.

oOo

Hermione hesitantly covered his hand with her own. "I know that this wouldn't be your choice, Harry, but do try and look on the bright side of life. You're alive, you're young, and you have the whole world at your fingertips!"

The occupants in the Common Room instinctively flinched back at the last phrase. Hermione blanched, and hurried to cover up her misstep. "What I meant was, you have your whole future ahead of you!"

Wary eyes relaxed, and the inhabitants went back to normal.

Harry determinedly looked out the window. He didn't respond to her statement. She looked around nervously, and hissed, "Come on, Harry! They already think the worst of you as it is! You could at least pretend to be an average teenage boy. Then maybe some of them would like you again!"

Harry turned his head slowly, and spoke in a hollow tone. "What makes you think I care about the opinions of traitors and cowards?"

Withdrawing his hand from beneath hers, he walked steadily to his room.

Hermione casually brushed the tears from her eyes. He didn't really mean that. It was just that thing inside of him.

oOo

Harry fell onto his bed. Ron peaked out from behind his curtains, and asked sympathetically, "Hermione's harping at you again, then?"

Harry let out a muffled groan, his face smothered by the pillow. "I just don't understand what's wrong with her!" he cried. "Isn't she my best friend? Shouldn't she stand by me?"

Harry felt his mattress dip under Ron's weight, and heard the red-haired boy sigh heavily. "She's Muggleborn, mate. You know they just go with the flow in times of trouble. Look at all their wars, and how they were duped by charismatic leaders. We both knew it would happen one day."

"I know," came Harry's stifled reply. "But it still hurts."

Ron rested a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright. You'll see. Let me know if you and Malfoy need any help, yeah?"

Harry rolled over to look at Ron. "I will."

oOo

Day One

Malfoy grumbled as he painstakingly separated the bright red berries. They were so gelatinous; it was hard to detach the individual fruits. He snuck a glance at Potter, who was hard at work sewing Acromantula thread onto a pristine white robe. Draco had no idea what the design was going to be, but Potter looked busy enough not to notice if Draco sped the process along. He surreptitiously raised his wand and-

"Don't you dare use magic on those yew berries, Malfoy. It'll ruin the whole gift, and then you'll be forced to sort them all out again."

Damn. "I don't understand why you need over four hundred thousand berries!" Draco shouted angrily. "What is the symbolism behind it?"

Potter sighed. "I've already told you this three times, Draco. I would appreciate if this time you would actually pay attention. I'm assuming you know the meaning of six hundred sixty-six, so I'm not going to go into that. You take Arithmancy, right? So you must know that when significant numbers are squared, they have twice the power of a single number. So six hundred sixty-six squared is four hundred forty-three thousand, five hundred fifty-six. Thus I need that many berries. Plus, the romantic in me hopes that he'll recognize that there's two of us, and that's another reason why it's squared."

Draco groaned. "You know, seven was considered to be an unlucky number in the Dark Ages…"

Potter grinned cheerfully. "Ah, but it's not known as the universal number of misfortune, now, is it? You'd better get back to work, Malfoy. You only have eight hours left until I send the first gift."

Draco resignedly went back to sorting the poisonous berries. "You do realize, traditionally he's supposed to court you."

He could hear Potter's smile. "When have you ever known me to follow the rules?"

oOo

Ron pushed back sweaty bangs from his forehead. "Y'know, Harry, when I said I would help you with anything, I wasn't thinking of this."

Malfoy collapsed into the chair next to him, and said thoughtfully, "I believe this is the first time a Malfoy has ever been grateful to a Weasley."

Ron thought about it, and replied wonderingly, "I reckon you're right."

Both their hands were inked with the scarlet juices of the fruit, but it was worth it to see Harry's hopeful expression. He attached the black silk pouch, bulging with over four hundred thousand berries, to the flock of ravens. "Take this to your Master, please," he requested quietly. The huge mass of birds flapped their wings simultaneously, and disappeared into the night.

Harry flopped into a chair wearily, looking exhausted but triumphant. "And so the first midnight passes successfully," he murmured.

Draco snorted. "Only six more to go; my heart flutters."

Harry pointed at him lazily. "That's five for you, good sir. I doubt you would want to be here on the final midnight. It might be too much, even for a Malfoy."

Draco muttered something unintelligible, and Ron yawned. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go get some sleep so I can be ready tomorrow."

Harry leapt up from his chair. "Of course, Ron! Thank you so much, mate. I don't know what we would've done without you."

Ron shrugged off the praise easily. "It's no problem. I'd do anything if it meant you'd be happy. That's what best friends are for."

He gave Harry a one-armed hug, hesitated, and then nodded in Draco's direction. "Malfoy."

Draco stared coolly back at him, and lowered his head in acknowledgement. "Weasley."

Ron left, and Harry stared speculatively at his back. "Y'know, I think you and Ron could get along quite nicely if you tried. Maybe even more than nicely, if you get what I mean…"

Draco spluttered, "What are you on, Potter? That's absolutely ridiculous. I'm going to bed before you come up with any more asinine conclusions."

He swirled out of the room in a style reminiscent of Snape. Harry laughed softly. More than one relationship would blossom in the next week if he could help it.

TO BE CONTINUED.

A/N: This is something slightly different than I have ever done, so I hope you'll bear with me. To me, the pairing is blatantly obvious; I'm not attempting to be subtle, but perhaps it appears differently to you.

This is also my first Draco/Ron… Hell, it's my first Ron/anyone. I think this is the first story where I have him portrayed in a positive light.

Anyway, I would love to hear your critiques or impressions on this story!