The Worth of Tessera
Am-Chau Yarkona
(grant (at) hagden168.fsnet.co.uk)
Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and I make no profit from my use of them.
A response to Slodwick's "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words" challenge, Double Prints edition (from this picture).
Many thanks to my betas, Liss and Amy.  

Draco insisted on watching the clean-up team dig his father's grave, in what had once been the rose garden and was now another war cemetery. Harry had protested, knowing that he himself couldn't have faced such an ordeal, but Draco wanted to ensure they dug deep enough.

He knew his brooding presence made the workers nervous, but he couldn't stand still. Instead, he strode around, swirling his cloak and blowing puffs of steam into the winter air.

The ground was frozen nearly solid, and the picks and spades rang out to echo on the hillsides. They were so eager to get the job done that Neville nearly didn't notice the tiny bits of pottery in the earth he tossed aside.

When he did, he stopped work, which drew everyone's attention at once. "What's the matter, Neville?" Hermione, team leader because she was a real Auror, asked. "Blister?"

"No." Neville pointed. "Strange little things. See?"

The other workers, and Draco, hurried to look.

"What is it?" Draco asked. "Not magic traces, I hope?"

"Little square bits of terracotta," Hermione said, prizing one free with gloved fingers and passing it to him. "Nothing I recognise as Dark."

Draco studied the pale lump in silence for a moment, watched by the four diggers. Hermione might be their leader, but Draco was inherently regarded as the expert on Dark Magic. "No, not Dark," he agreed, and they all relaxed a little. "Funny, though—it looks man-made."

"There are lots more," Neville offered, when Hermione looked interested. He scraped a layer of earth away with his spade, revealing another scattering.

"Careful, Neville," she said, stepping into the trench. "They're—" she brushed dirt away with her fingers, "—still in a pattern here."

They were—a narrow band of dark squares, and then an expanse of creamy-white ones, fading away under the soil.

"A Roman mosaic," Ron said knowledgeably. "Dad made us see the ones in St. Albans once."

"We'd better tell Harry," Hermione said.

"Since it's his land now," Draco said, bitterly. "Damn it."

Used to hearing Draco's maledictions on the Manor lands and Harry's current guardianship of it, Hermione ignored him. "Ron, Lavender, stop digging, but stay here. Neville, come with me and Draco—and bring a couple of those tessera."

Draco sneered at being ordered about—but he obeyed, because he wanted to see Harry, even if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, and it was better that she thought it was her idea than to suspect his real motive.

 

He hung back on the threshold when they reached the room. Hermione rushed forward to the sofa.

"Harry!" she said, slightly breathless. "You'll never guess what we've found."

"I don't suppose I will," Harry replied, pulling himself upright with an effort. He didn't look as if he really cared, either; his eyes sought out Draco, who met his gaze steadily, trying to read some sort of message of hope there, but well aware that Harry would never dare to let anything like that show in his face.

"… which would be exciting," Hermione said. "Harry, are you listening?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm tired today. Run that past me again?"

 

Hermione sighed, and repeated the tale. "Neville found these tessera, buried about six inches down—and so I think there may be a Roman mosaic, which would be…"

"Interesting, though not actually unique in this part of England," Draco informed them from the doorway.

"But more importantly right now," Neville put in, "we've got to find somewhere else to bury…" His eyes flicked left, and although Lucius' body actually lay in the master bedroom, a little up and to the right, they understood him.

"There's plenty of space," Draco said calmly. "You chose a spot very high up on the hill—if it is a mosaic it's probably there because even the Romans liked the view."

Harry nodded.

"We'll dig the grave somewhere else—I'll let someone at the Ministry know about this find—probably Lupin. And we'd better cover it with something in the meantime," Hermione said. "Okay, Harry?"

"Good plan," Harry replied.

"We'll do that," Hermione said. She swept out, sending a quizzical look at Draco, who simply shook his head and was glad not to be questioned further. Neville followed her.