Enduring - MykkiTno - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

June 1996

“Stay together!”

Harry's breathing was harsh as it echoed around the cavernous room, his attention drawn from the whispering archway.

Seconds later, Death Eaters flooded the room, spells, jinxes, and curses fired indiscriminately before the Order appeared.

Watching in horror, Harry saw the red curse out of the corner of his eye, shot and aimed at Sirius. Like a scene from a nightmare, he saw the overlapping image of Sirius laughing, falling, and never getting up.

Grief and terror flooded his system and exploded out of him, making everyone shiver but unable to look as magic flooded the room, making it impossible to look. It was enough for Harry, though; mixing the blood smeared on his glowing hands, he jerked them up, voice lost to the yelling, but in that second, everything froze, even the spells the one aimed at Sirius inches from his chest.

When everything started again, Sirius lay on the floor panting in confusion, and Bellatrix blinked in a dazed fashion as she toppled through the archway, a fitting end to madness.

***

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

June 23, 1996

Sighing, Draco leaned against the train window and watched the passing scenario, feeling the coil of dread in his stomach grow the closer they got to London.

Beside him, Pansy made a slight noise in the back of her throat, newspaper rattling in her hand, making Draco close his eyes, not wanting to know what had been said. Every day, there had been some new sensational piece and growing rumours of death eater activity or supposed sightings of the Dark lord, but nothing concrete or proven, and he was starting to suspect that after the last year of being in denial, they were printing everything be it confirmed or not. It was also glaringly apparent that the articles were hogwash. Potter had forced the Dark Lord’s plan before he was ready and was now in hiding, and Draco was terrified that it was at the manor, knowing his father as he did. It honestly would have been better if it had been his father and not his Aunt Bellatrix, who’d died, crazy as she had been. It would have been a freedom Draco could have utilized and worked with.

His mother had been silent since his father's arrest, only sending a note that morning at breakfast that she would be picking him up from the train, giving no indication that she had any sort of plan. It was terrifying in and of itself. His mother had been a Black before her marriage and grew up learning to plot and plan amongst experts.

Pansy cleared her throat again, leaning her head against his shoulder, where he felt a shudder go through her body. It made him turn and glance at her, stomach rebelling his breakfast dangerously as names jumped out at him, half hidden under her thumb. Names of those arrested, her father not one of them, but it did name Draco's and the number of dead found. Draco's eyes skimmed the page as if against his will, his breath catching as another headline caught his eyes.

“Sirius Black, Innocent All Along?

We have all heard of the breach at the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago, but it only came to our attention today that one of the suspects found and arrested was none other than Peter Pettigrew, a man who has been believed dead for fifteen years.

In the original story and report, it was believed that on November 2, 1981, Peter was trapped in an alleyway in Muggle England, where he confronted Sirius Black, claiming Black betrayed James and Lily Potter, resulting in their death. Sirius Black suffered twelve years in Azkaban without a trial. But in a surprising twist of truth, it was the other way around. This reporter has confirmed that Pettigrew was the secret keeper and, thus, the person who betrayed the Potters, which is how Black came to be in that alleyway. It appears a Fidlius Charm had been used to hide the Potters, meaning Black had forgotten where the cottage was until He-who-must-not-be-named had discovered it.

Peter Pettigrew was charged and is awaiting trial; his Order of Merlin was stripped of him this morning after Sirius Black was officially declared innocent of all charges. The Ministry of Magic is paying an undisclosed sum in restitution, refusing to answer all questions.

There is no word on whether Black has claimed his Lordship, so seeing what a traditional Dark house does will be interesting. Will he hold up to family honour, or will he continue foraging his own path…?

The rolling in his stomach continued with a sliver of hope; if Sirius Black was innocent and claimed the Black lordship, Mother could claim sanctuary. Magic could dictate that if Mother proved her innocence and alliance with the new Lord, he would be honoured and magically bound to protect them.

Meeting Pansy's eyes, he lifted a shoulder and then turned his gaze back to the window, ignoring the worried looks from the occupants on the other seat. Daphne and Blaise thankfully didn’t say anything meaningless; no amount of empty platitudes would help. Draco knew they were neutral, a traditional Grey Family that hadn’t supported either side in the last war. They might be caught in the same nightmare now, but not compared to him and Pansy, where they had the means to escape, Draco and Pansy did not. They’d been friends since childhood and, shortly before the fourth year, concocted the story they were dating to fend off other interests; it was tiresome but necessary. Draco had no interest in any females, and the one person he did want…. He shook his head, trying to keep that thought at bay. It wasn’t good to dwell on what he couldn’t have. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than a scuffle from the corridor caught his attention, making Draco turn his head. A mop of unmistakable, unruly dark hair made his stomach clench. He made no other outward reaction as Harry winced, pushing off the wall without comment and continuing down the corridor. A second later, Millicent, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, entered a sneer of disgust fixed on her face and sniffed, “Can you believe the nerve of that traitor? He’s lucky I didn’t hex him for what he did.”

Wisely, Draco kept his mouth shut, turning back to the window and letting the others deal with the three idiots. He was more concerned about Harry's look of dread. It felt awfully familiar, and it wasn’t the first time he wondered how much he had in common with the boy who lived.

Letting his eyes slide shut, Draco pretended he was sleeping, though, in truth, he was running through all his memories of Harry Potter and came to a few disturbing conclusions and realizations that made him nauseous. In the meantime, the idiots were prodded from their carriage, his friends letting him keep the illusion he was sleeping. They probably wouldn’t have let him if they'd known his thoughts. Why had it taken six years to see the obvious signs of trauma and abuse? There were only two months between him and Harry, and Harry was at least a foot shorter and correspondingly thinner - something he had noticed at the start of each term. It always took Harry time to build up an appetite, having learned his lesson the first year by gorging himself and almost making himself sick each meal. He also noticed that after the novelty wore off, Harry avoided most fatty foods, sticking to plain fair that was hardy and high in calories and skipping desserts unless it was a small slice of treacle tart.

Upon reflection, he could see Harry's control over his temper and the remembered calculation in his eyes as he analyzed each situation he encountered. Draco couldn’t help but be impressed. He didn’t think he would have kept his if he’d found himself in the same scenarios Harry had found himself in over the years. The fact that he hadn’t rubbed everyone’s noses in the fact he’d been proven right, not that anyone in Slytherin had doubted his claims, even if they hadn’t vocalized that, Draco knew he wouldn't be as forgiving.

A gentle nudge from Pansy alerted him just as the train blew the whistle, and platforms 9 and 3/4 appeared, making him sigh again, shoulders slumping.

“I’ll owl as soon as I know it’s safe,” he whispered, meeting her eyes wide and tight. Only a flicker of unease betrayed her as she swallowed and nodded.

“Maybe I can convince my dad to invite you for a visit until then,” Daphne offered softly.

Startled, Pansy darted a look at her and smiled weakly in return but didn’t comment, not wanting to voice anything in case it was overheard.

As the train pulled to a stop, steam billowing around the windows, the four Slytherins exchanged another look before rising to their feet to gather their things slowly, allowing the other students to disembark before them.

As he strolled down the corridor, he caught sight of Harry being hugged tight by Granger, the only one in the circle of laughing and reuniting Weasleys who had the same look of dread on their face that Harry had. It appeared Granger at least had an understanding and an idea that Harry’s summer would be as dreadful as Draco’s.

Draco stepped off the train a short time later and found his mother, cloaked and hooded, watching the crowd warily. She only relaxed when she saw him; the relief and joy in her eyes helped settle Draco’s nerves as he reached her and nodded a greeting.

To his surprise, she dropped her decorum and wrapped him in a hug, which he had to stoop to accept. The little boy trapped inside melted at the outward affection.

A loud booming laugh broke them apart, a blush building on Narcissa’s cheeks replaced with a look of mild disgust as she watched the Weasley's families loud, vulgar behaviour. Draco watched too, or at least he watched Harry, who stood on the platform dejected and defeated, seemingly forgotten as the Weasleys moved towards the exit, pulling Granger away, ignoring her protests.

Watching Harry sigh and wave a hand at his trunk, Draco swallowed as it levitated a few inches off the ground, making it appear that it had wheels. He heard his mother gasp, but he kept his eyes on Harry, who walked towards the exit the Weasley had disappeared through, and then paused, glancing back at Draco as if he’d known he was there the whole time.

The intensity of their shared look made Draco shiver before Harry nodded once, his eyes losing their sparkle as he resolutely squared his shoulders and turned away, leaving through the platform, making Draco question everything he thought he knew again. His mother touched his arm, and the familiar lurch tugged at his navel, sending them spinning as they were sucked through, landing with only a tiny stumble into a garden with flowers in full bloom. Draco was already tense and on edge, eyes darting around in confusion. The garden was not one he recognized, and he knew it far surpassed the one at Malfoy Manor, spreading out towards a lake that reflected the summer sun. The air was different, magic humming along his skin, caressing it like a lover.

Glancing at his mother hopefully, he opened his mouth, only to close it as off-key humming floated down the path towards them, followed a second later by a man he’d only seen in newspapers.

No one, though, would recognize or confuse this man with a crazed mass murderer. Sirius Black cleaned up well, even if he still appeared thin. His hair had been cut and tamed, styled expertly, with clothing that seemed to match, making Draco realize the stories his mother had whispered about her ‘flirt’ of a cousin were one hundred percent accurate. Gone though was the carefree attitude, the hint of madness in his eyes, not necessarily a Black family trait, but reminiscent of his time in Azkaban.

Sirius Black flashed a smile as he crossed the distance, buzzing a kiss on Narcissa's cheek before glancing at Draco, the casual pursual, causing a blush to form on his cheeks.

The quirk of Sirius’s brow and the quiet chuckle were startlingly familiar, even if there was no other outward resemblance.

“Welcome to Black Manor, Heir Malfoy.”

Draco swallowed at the timber and bowed correctly, “Thank you for the sanctuary, Lord Black. I’m happy for my mother and honoured on her behalf that you would assist us in our time of need; if you require assistance in any manner, I offer myself to repay that debt.” Finishing his little speech, Draco swallowed and straightened, ignoring his mother’s stricken expression, knowing she would have words with him later. Vowed or not, his words had offered the other man power, and he would rather be beholden to family and not the insane man his father was.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully and nodded once to acknowledge Draco’s words, turning to gesture towards the house, “It is a bit of a walk, but I have the manor on lockdown under war wards as no one can apparate or floo inside, and letters are sent to a secured room to be ‘examined’ before dispersing. Severus is my only other guest until I can get Harry here, but Remus is here occasionally.”

Draco frowned at Severus' name before he realized what Sirius had said and licked his lips, questioning with a sinking heart, “Harry Potter?”

“Hmm? Yes, Harry, my godson and Heir.” Sirius replied in amusem*nt and then shot him a hard look. " That’s not a problem, is it?”

Quickly shaking his head, Draco strove to hide his nervousness and then offered softly, “It’s not a problem for me, My Lord, but if Heir Black has an issue with us being here, I will forfeit our sanctuary to make him-“

His mother dug her nails into his arm, giving him a warning look. Sirius laughed, “Don’t worry about Harry. He’ll understand; magic calls to magic, and as children of Black’s magic, you’ll come to a mutual understanding and respect.”

Narcissa stumbled, her hand tightened on Draco’s arm, her nail digging deeper and drawing a hiss from his lips, which his mother ignored to demand, “You gave Harry Potter Blood Heirship?”

Sirius grinned, “Sure did, not even twenty-four hours after his birth, with Grandfather in attendance.”

“But you-you,” Narcissa stuttered, mouth opening and closing, unable to finish.

“Spent twelve years in prison for something I didn’t do?" Sirius asked, with a raised brow, “Being innocent meant I was never disinherited, and Grandfather knew that.”

“No, I know that." Narcissa waved a hand dismissively, "I meant, shouldn’t it go to your blood children, not some half-“

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Sirius growled low and dangerous, “Truthfully, I never wanted the title, and I would have left it to rot, given dearest mom’s methods of punishment. I was sterile by the time I was sixteen, which is when I so conveniently fled her house and control. Grandfather knew, of course, and asked me to ritually adopt because he refused to let the title die out. My stipulation for his request was James’s son, and it was accepted gleefully. Arcturus Black had a lot of respect for the Potters, given his sister married one. Add in James and Lily's magic, which was a beautiful mix of light and dark, and grandfather was almost giddy at the ritual.”

Narcissa’s mouth has snapped shut halfway through Sirius's statement, only dropping open again at the last, voice barely a whisper, “Dark?”

Sirius smiled, a smile Draco recognized as a Black smile, and gestured toward the house, “If you’ll follow me?”

Draco and his mother fell into step beside Sirius as he led them through the gardens, the flowers arching and dancing towards Sirius as he moved. It was beautiful to see, something he’d always associated with his mother. The gardens at Malfoy Manor reacted the same, but maybe it had more to do with the Black family's magic. It was hard to envision the flora reacting like that to his father.

As they strolled, Sirius pointed out various places he might be interested in, such as a lake, forest, quidditch pitch, and stables. Their conversation was peaceful and easy, though occasionally, a look of sorrow passed over the elder Black’s faces as they got lost in their memories.

When they reached the terrace, Sirius stopped and gazed back out over the expansive lawns. " Would you like a tour of the house or refreshments in your rooms?”

Narcissa wrapped her arms around herself. “I think I’ll have tea in my room. If that’s all right?”

“Of course, Cissy. Dinner is set for 7. Is that acceptable?” Sirius asked, glancing toward his cousin. A matching expression of regret appeared on his face, and he added as if he needed to offer the reassurance that only she would understand. “It’ll be informal, in the sunroom.”

A grateful look crossed his mother’s face, and she nodded, glancing his way. " Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it, shaking his head and darting a look at his cousin. “No, I think we need to have a private conversation; we might as well do that during the tour.” He paused and shifted uncomfortably, “If that’s acceptable, Lord-“

“Call me Sirius, Draco.” The Earl of Islington responded, his eyes clouding briefly before he shook his head, rubbing at his temple. " And a tour and private conversation is probably a good idea.”

“Siri?” Narcissa whispered, eyes widening as she looked at her cousin, who only shook his head and turned away, waving a hand. The doors opened by themselves, and a house elf was popping to the left of the door.

“Tea for Narcissa in her rooms and another set in half an hour on the west terrace; dinner is still at 7, Folly.”

“Yes, Master Sirius.” The elf responded cheerfully and popped away, leaving the three of them standing there, Narcissa wavering, clearly undecided if she should leave them alone.

Clenching his jaw, Draco refused to look at her, knowing that he needed to converse with Harry’s godfather and hating that he was forced into this position because his parents had been cowards. It might have been an unfair thought, considering he knew the risk his mother had taken escaping the manor and bringing him with him. Still, the resentment that had built over the years had grown; if they hadn’t fallen in with the Dark Lord, they wouldn’t be standing here making an alliance with a supposed enemy when they could have been here all along.

Not for the first time, Draco wished his father had died in the ministry; the selfish idea that he could have been free to guide his house and name overwhelmed him before it died, tasting like ash on his tongue.

His vision of redemption was a pipe dream, as he knew that even with his mother's support now, she would have fought every possible thing he wanted to do. Sighing, he shook his head, stilling the thoughts as his mother sighed sadly, “Come and see me before bed?”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, knowing she would plead softly, begging him to keep his head down so as not to draw attention from anyone, especially if Potter would be living here soon. Jerking his head in agreement, Draco kept silent as she gazed at him in fearful disappointment before turning away, leaving the two male cousins alone. An awkward silence grew between them even as Sirius regarded him thoughtfully.

Whatever he was searching for, Draco had no idea if he found it because his cousin shook himself and strolled away, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s start in the East Wing, though it’s not as exciting.”

So it proved. The east wing held the formal areas, ballroom, portrait galleries, guest library, dining room, and guest rooms. It was somewhat surprising for Draco to realize he wasn’t placed there. He bit his lip to keep from questioning it as Sirius finally moved to the West Wing, pointing out the family library and den, family rooms, private dining, solarium, and potions lab. Sirius causally pointed to Draco’s rooms, even letting him browse them before leading him back to the den.

It still felt awkward as he sank into a surprisingly comfortable chair, accepted the tumbler of fire whiskey, and took a sip as Sirius slouched into the chair across from him. "Are you going to have an issue with Harry being here?”

For a second, Draco panicked, then viciously pushed it down, his hand tightening on his glass. “I—" he stopped and drew in a breath. I meant what I said outside. I’m grateful on my mother’s behalf for the sanctuary provided, and if needed, I will pay that back in any way possible. If that means forfeiting that to Harry...” Draco trailed off, unable to continue.

“You’re not grateful for yourself?” Sirius asked curiously, eyes intense.

Shrugging uncomfortably, Draco averted his gaze, “To be honest, I had plans to send you my own letter begging for assistance if I’d ended up back at my father’s manor, and I fully expected to be denied,” He sighed warily, running a hand through his hair, “I know how people perceive me, and my actions over the years haven’t had a positive impact on those around me.”

Surprise flashed across Sirius’s face, “you don’t support your father’s ambitions?”

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Draco shook his head, “No, I suspect if I were to prostrate before his throne, if he didn’t kill me for my father’s epic public failure, I’d have been set an impossible task that still would have seen me dead.”

A grunt was the only response Draco received. Still, he was content to wait for his cousin to speak, which he did after a moment, “you’re not what I thought…” he trailed off, confusion flickered across his face though he wiped it clear with his hand, “Harry convinced me you’d changed, asked-demanded really that you be given a chance, though I can’t see it.” Sirius flushed and averted his eyes, “which admittedly is probably biased. Your father and I did not get along.”

A snort of laughter escaped Draco. " That’s fair; I don’t know who got along with him.” A questioning brow made Draco flush, “I might putt about being a spoiled snot, but let’s just say that my father wasn’t pleasant, even with me.”

Dark eyes met him, the hint of madness stewing in their depths before they clouded over, and Sirius shuttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “How old?”

Draco didn’t even pretend not to know what he was being asked, his voice clipped as he responded, “Nine, started on my birthday and lasted every day until the day I left for Hogwarts.”

“Seven, my mother’s excuse was to strengthen my magic, but all it did was make me hate her more.” Sirius admitted softly, “When she didn’t touch Regulus, I grew to resent him, jealous that she loved him enough not to hurt him like she hurt me.”

Draco flinched, admitting roughly, “It makes me glad I was an only child; I know if a younger sibling had been tortured as I was, I’d be dead.” He knocked back the rest of the whiskey and leaned forward, needing to address something Sirius had said earlier, “You said Harry convinced you to give me a chance?”

Sirius nodded, dread filling his face as if fearing the follow-up question, but it wasn’t enough for Draco to leave it alone. “Did he say why?”

With his dark eyes closed, Sirius turned his head to the side toward the window. "He said that no one deserved to have Lucius Malfoy as a father, not even you.”

Draco closed his eyes and shook his head, “the stupid git.”

There was an uncomfortable silence before Sirius cleared his throat, eyes shifting nervously, “is there something between-"

A bitter smile crossed Draco’s face, and he shook his head, “No, after Harry rejected my offer of friendship - which admittedly was horrid and selfishly presented, I was never brave enough to defy my father after that one instance.” A cynical laugh shook Draco’s shoulders, but he nodded his thanks as his glass was filled wordlessly, “can you imagine the headlines, Death Eaters Son and the Boy Who Lived? Or my father’s reaction? One made worse because of our different houses? My father would have disowned me for getting with a Gryffindor.” Draco inhaled sharply, “No, I could never risk it; it would never have been fair to Harry for that sort of attention.”

An amused smile crossed Sirius’s face, “My godson didn’t listen, did he? He still tried to be your friend, didn’t he?”

Draco wrinkled his nose and admitted, “he might have wanted to, but I couldn’t afford the risk last year…..”

“Because he was made out to be a nutter in the papers?” Sirius demanded with an edge to his tone that made Draco flinch, jerking back in his chair, sloshing the whiskey over his hand.

“What? No!” Draco denied heatedly, “I knew he wasn’t lying, but it’s not like I could say anything with the f*cker living in my home.” Draco pulled his wand, cleaning his hand and drying the droplets that landed on his pants, “if I was vocal in any way,” he sighed, collapsing against the chair, defeat bowing his shoulders, “I’m the son of a death eater, Sirius. I had no one I could go to for a safe haven before you.” He held up a hand as Sirius opened his mouth, “and before you say Harry would have helped, I know, but it wouldn’t have been permanent due to his circ*mstances.”

Sirius glared, knocking back his drink, and then sighed, defeated, “Yeah, that’s true. I had James when I needed to escape.” Setting his glass down, he leaned forward, “Are there any other Slytherins in similar circ*mstances?”

“Pansy Parkison,” Draco replied instantly, his stomach clenching as he thought of his best friend. "Her father is in the inner circle, and she’s terrified of what plans are being made for her.”

Thoughtfully, Sirius dropped his gaze, finger tapping on the arm of the chair, “I can’t promise to have her rescued, but I’ll have Severus see what he can find out, and we can make a plan from there.”

Startled, Draco froze, trying to parse what Sirius had said, his head feeling like it was working under a fog, “you mean Professor Snape? My godfather?”

Humming in amusem*nt, Sirius nodded, “That’s correct. He’ll probably be around for dinner, given it’s summer.” He paused and added, “If Remus and him start sniping at each other, ignore it. Moony’s adjusting to a secret we’ve kept hidden for fifteen years.”

Draco nodded in agreement, no matter how curious he wasn’t asking, though he did focus on Severus, “Isn’t Severus a death eater?”

An amused smirk crossed his cousin's face, “he always did play the dungeon bat well.”

“Stop teasing him, mutt.” The familiar drawing came from the door, making Draco snap his head to the side, mouth dropping open at his godfather's casual attire. The cut of the dark outer robes was vest-like and the opposite of anything he would have worn at school or even privately at the manor, the sleeves of the undershirt a deep green, shot with silver embroidery. His hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, drawing attention to his growing goatee and highlighting his healthy complexion. It felt like he’d stepped into an alternate dimension. His godfather had not looked like that when he’d last seen him at breakfast, “What? How did that happen?”

An amused laugh pulled his attention from his godfather to look at his cousin, who was gazing at Severus with a heavy-hooded expression, making Draco gag as he looked between them. “Oh, Merlin! Seriously? You two?”

An eyebrow rose as Severus folded his arms. " So what if we are? What business is it of yours?”

Jerking his head in a negative, Draco moved past it, focusing on something else. Indignation making him angry: “But you bully Harry! You make his life hell, and dock points off him when it isn’t his fault!”

“You’re right, I have.” Severus sighed as he crossed the room, sinking into a chair beside Sirius, “I owe Harry an apology.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Draco demanded, then flushed at the cool look of disappointment.

“Use your brain,” Severus snapped, irritation creeping into his tone. "Just like you, I’ve had to wear a mask to give an illusion and impression of my dislike for the Boy Who Lived.”

Deflating, Draco bent over, burying his head in his hands, “I don’t understand.”

“We know,” Sirius said softly. "But before we can offer any information, we need something in exchange.”

Draco regretted the whiskey immediately as his stomach rebelled, hurt but unsurprised there was a price to be paid. “I don’t know how much help I can be. I can name some of the inner circle, but was never included in their plans.”

“We don’t need information from you, Draco.” Sirius said, glancing at Severus, who nodded, “We have Severus for that, and I’m not about to ask you to join their ranks to become a spy.”

Relaxing slightly, Draco straightened, looking between the two men, licking his lips hesitantly. " What do you want then?” He didn’t add that he had nothing to offer, in hiding as he was. He glanced at his wand, running a thumb over the handle, and felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“Draco,” his godfather's voice was impossibly soft. "You’re spiralling. We don’t want your wand or an unbreakable vow. What we want is a little more complicated, but if you disagree, you won’t lose the sanctuary provided.”

“Maybe not, but I also won’t be included or trusted, either.” Draco responded dully, hating his father all over again, the weight of the heir ring heavy and looked up at Sirius Black, “Can I renounce my name and position as Heir and assume the Black name?” When both sets of eyes widened, he plowed on, “I don’t want Harry’s place, so don’t think that. I just- I want to be something other than a Malfoy. My name has caused me nothing but grief my entire life.”

The two men exchanged unreadable looks before Sirius cleared his throat. “I—Draco, I understood your reasoning but would never ask that of you. I also can’t say yes in good conscience without having you give it careful consideration. If you keep your status and position, it could help you in the future.”

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped Draco, exhausted from everything that had happened. Instead of responding directly, he ran a hand through his hair, asking, “What can I do to help?”

The glint of excitement that lit Sirius's eyes made him question his cousin's sanity and his own, but he waited patiently. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the statement from Sirius’s mouth, who looked him dead in the eye and said bluntly, “I want your help rescuing Harry from his muggle relatives.”

Draco blinked and wiggled his finger in his ear like he was clearing it out in an action that would have horrified his mother. Then he blinked again, “Pardon me?”

Huffing a laugh, Severus folded his arms and glanced at Sirius. " I told you he wouldn’t say no immediately.”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius summoned another tumbler and the bottle of fire whisky, topping up each of their glasses, “Bloody git.”

Severus waved a hand, wordlessly summoning the glass from Sirius, and smugly took a sip, “I know my godson, mutt. I said he was trustworthy; his obsession with Potter has been evident for years; I’m just glad everyone else was blind to it.”

Flushing as they discussed him like he wasn’t even present, Draco squirmed in his seat, demanding with a squeak, “Could you—are you two flirting in front of me?”

Snorting, Sirius filled the tumbler Draco had been using and then the new one, ignoring the question in favour of explaining his request, “It’s a two-part request; in addition to recusing him, he also needs tutoring in everything related to wizarding customs.”

“But!” Draco started shaking his head, feeling like he was being given an impossible task, “he hates me.”

Sirius frowned, “you already said he’s tried to be your friend.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he will listen to me. He hasn’t bothered learning anything about our world. Why would he want to be taught by me?” Draco demanded. "It’s not like he cares that he’s helping disrespect magic by following muggle customs.”

“Is it that he doesn’t care or doesn’t know?” Severus asked quietly, staring intently at his godson, and then waved a hand expressively as Draco froze. "Stop reacting and think. Harry grew up in the muggle world with relatives who hated him, and he only learned he was a wizard when he received his letter. Where would he have learnt anything to do with our customs and beliefs? Would he have even known to ask if he didn’t suspect things were different?”

Swallowing, Draco looked between the two men and thought through the questions and realized with a sense of dread that half of what had pissed Draco off was Harry’s ignorance which had been real. Severus was right; where would Harry have learned anything about the wizarding world? It wasn’t like Hogwarts offered classes anymore, and no matter how Pureblood the Weasleys were, they were ostracized as blood traitors. If they served the old ways, it was privately, as they were not invited to join social events. Draco set down his glass, fisting his hands and rubbing his eyes, his thoughts continuing, Granger might be considered the brightest witch of her age, but she was still muggle born; she wouldn’t be of assistance when it came to teaching Harry what he needed to know as Heir to two noble houses.

That thought pulled him up short. Harry had to learn more than just wizarding customs; he had to learn everything else, including the training for his seats, laws, past and present, voting blocks, etiquette, and land management…. He cut himself off before panicking and looked up sharply, “Why wasn’t he taught any of this?”

A cold look crossed his godfather's face. “I can give you two guesses, but you’ll only need one.”

“The headmaster,” Draco replied flatly, hating the flash of appreciation he had for his father when he’d tried to have him removed.

Sirius nodded grimly, “he’s been using Harry’s seats and others he’s obtained through blackmail, bribery and corruption to sway votes in his favour.” He averted his gaze, looking at the blank wall, and swallowed, “The only thing we have in our favour is Dumbledore isn’t aware of Harry’s true identity. Truthfully, I wasn’t aware until I claimed the title, and I’m glad for that now. The damage Dumbledore could have wrought in the Wizengamot with that power is horrifying, and it would make Voldemort look like a flea in comparison.”

“What?” Draco croaked, fear snaking up his spine. He was unsure he wanted an answer, though he was burning with curiosity.

Severus knocked back the rest of his whiskey, pouring another measure before speaking flat and toneless, “Did you know it was custom for Half-Blood children to acquire two names, a public name used until they claimed the titles they were entitled to?”

Shaking his head, Draco thumbed the lip of his glass, taking a sip and breathing through the burn as the whiskey slid down, wondering if it was a good idea to get drunk now.

“It’s not a well-known practice. Most half-bloods are immersed into our world, so that sort of protection isn’t always necessary, but that’s not the case in Harry's circ*mstance.” Severus explained carefully, “his position as Heir Potter was evident in his name and being the last known Potter, the Heir Black was suspected but never confirmed before Arcturus's death, though it was acknowledged and formalized by him as he was at the ritual.” He sighed, staring at the amber liquid eyes filled with grief and regret, “none of us thought to question Lily’s heritage.”

“She’s a muggle-born, though,” Draco couldn’t help but point out, confused at where the connection was going.

“That’s true.” Sirius agreed with a nod, “but what isn’t acknowledged or even believed by some factions like Voldemort and his followers is that muggle-born children have to have come from somewhere.” He nodded to the wall, “I can’t do anything with it yet, but I can prove in so far as much as I can with Harry’s heritage that muggle-borns come from forgotten squib lines. He was a thirteenth-generation born from a single line of males, excluding Lily, who would have been the twelfth generation.”

“Sirius?” Draco breathed, not even sure what he was asking. His mind raced with numbers and possibilities, and the implications alone were enough to make him numb.

His cousin ignored him. "Severus and I spent a week researching what we found, and then, in a desperate bid, I woke the house and demanded answers.”

“You what?” Draco demanded, his eyes widening. He’d never heard of a family waking a house after it had been forced to sleep. The fear of facing a Sentient Spirit that could and would more than likely be wrathful stopped the idea before it could gain any sort of traction.

“I woke Medea, the spirit encased in the house,” Sirius replied flatly, then frowned as the curtains closed and opened, windows rattling. "Alright, I didn’t do it alone; as she likes to point out, she was slowly waking up.”

Feeling another shiver, Draco bit his lip, thinking furiously, trying to pull up everything he remembered of the stories and legends his mother had told him as a child. Before he gave up, the only thing that came to mind was her gift of prophecy. He jerked his head up, staring at his cousin. " What did she show you?”

Sirius shook his head, holding his hands, “I can’t tell you.”

“What do you mean? It’s my future! Don’t I deserve to know?” Draco demanded harshly, unable to stop his eyes from filling with tears.

“Prophecy doesn’t work like that,” Sirius started, and then shook his head, “I get it, it would piss me off when my grandfather would become cryptic and evasive, but I spent twelve years in Azkaban ignoring his advice; I won’t set you up for the same failure.” He drew in a breath and continued more calmly, “Seeing the future isn’t easy to translate into an understanding for the non-gifted, which is a sentence I never thought I’d utter in my life,” he added with an eye roll at his expense. “Look at our history and all of the mythos and legends surrounding entities that predicted the future, and tell me if any of them who shared stopped something bad from happening. Look at Harry! He wasn’t even born when a stupid self-fulfilling prophecy was given that predicted the defeat of Voldemort. Look at the misery he’s experienced.”

“Less is more in this case,” Severus added nodding towards the wall. Draco turned to look in confusion, his jaw dropping at what he saw.

The previously blank wall now held a sprawling web of lines, looking like a latticework of intricate art or a spider's web. Feeling a nudge that wasn’t physical, Draco set his half-full tumbler on the table and rose to his feet, smoothing his robes as he paced toward the wall.

The pulsing was the first thing he noticed, like the web was breathing, but instead of feeling uneasy, he felt a sense of anticipation as he scanned the lines, unsurprised to find them centred on Harry’s name, his place as Heir outlined in silver.

Harry James Potter, July 31, 1980

Draco blinked as his vision blurred, but when it stayed blurry, he realized it was actually the wall rippling, expanding on his direct family line and focusing on Lily Evans’s.

Travelling up the tree, he counted as he went, eleven first-born males of the Evans line until he came to the Warren name, showing that daughter had been a squib. Before moving on, four generations before that, he felt his breath stutter, and he put a hand on the wall, suddenly dizzy as he read the name, “Cadmus Peverell?”

His eyes jerked to the top of the tree, breath coming in little pants of disbelief as he stared at the name, blood draining from his face as he sank to the floor, legs unable to support him.

It felt like the house hated him, as the family tree seemed to flow to his level. Harry’s name reappeared in front of him, the letters rippling and unscrambling to be reformed with a faint golden loop over the silver: Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, Duke of Warwick, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, July 31, 1980.

A semi-hysterical laugh bubbled out of Draco, “He’s a Duke and not just any Duke; he holds the oldest titles in existence, blessed lady magic. What have I done? I’ve spent the last five years bullying him. Oh, sweet Merlin, what if he’d declared a blood feud? I’d be dead, and I wouldn’t even know why.” He stopped babbling and stared at the family tree again, blood turning to ice as he ran through the lines again, and dropped his head in horror and then, to his shame, burst into tears.

***

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Staring at the door to Number 4 Private Drive, Harry felt the change in the wards since his last stay. They slid along his magic, testing and tasting, making him roll his eyes at Dumbledore's effort to ensure his continued cooperation, the attempt pathetic and annoying. It was grating that he had to play this out until his birthday, and if he hadn’t promised Sirius, Harry would have shredded the warding and disappeared before anyone would notice, but they had a plan, one Harry couldn’t rush.

Thumbing the invisible Heir Ring, Harry pulled his trunk behind him, not even offering a token act of arguing. He set it in his old bedroom, the closet under the stairs, and moved to the kitchen to make dinner.

It was difficult biting his tongue after everything that had happened in the last year, but Harry managed to ignore the smug beady eyes of his aunt and uncle as they waited with bated breath for him to f*ck up.

It wouldn't have mattered to them either through a verbal or magical outburst; they just needed an excuse, and it would have broken the accord they had reached at the rail station.

Harry wasn’t particularly worried. The connection Voldemort had utilized the last year had been suspiciously silent since the ministry fiasco. Harry knew it would stay that way. Voldemort would be unwilling to give Harry more insight into his plans.

With a brief flash of amusem*nt, he wondered if Voldemort had ever thought to search Harry’s thoughts or had just concentrated on showing him what he wanted the Boy Who Lived to see.

It would have probably driven Tom crazy if he had realized how many secrets Harry carried, how much he distrusted Dumbledore, or that he knew the complete prophecy. It was almost tempting to push through the block in his head and send the entire thing to him just to see how much he had played into Dumbledore’s hand and created his own downfall.

The reminder of that only meeting with Dumbledore made Harry pause and redirect his thoughts. There was no point in getting angry here. It would serve no purpose and undo months of work. Reaching out, he shoved the rage into the reinforced box in his mind, hid it under the layer of occlumency shields Professor Snape had halfheartedly taught on Dumbledore’s orders, and resumed cooking dinner.

After the Dursleys had finished eating and moved to the living room to watch their nightly programs, Harry was left alone in the kitchen, elbow-deep in scalding hot water, when he was blind-sided by grief.

It was so overwhelming that it drove him to his knees, unrelenting sobs breaking free.

The cuff to his head wrenched his head around, knocking it against the cabinets. Stars filled his vision as his glasses flew off. Yet, it was enough to wrestle the emotion under control, knowing they weren’t his.

If the magic coiling and mingling with his own hadn’t told him who, he’d know the echo of the crying anywhere. Latching on, he clung to the spark, ignoring his uncles bellowing and the blows that rained down on his body, layering protection after protection around the fragile piece, hoping it was enough to block the pain of what he was going through, never wanting anyone to suffer that, but allowing his happiness and the “finally” to filter through the bond that had always been there but closed. Now, it shone like a beacon in his mind, and Harry couldn’t help but reach out, brushing ‘fingers’ along it with a whimper of joy that it was real.

Harry didn’t understand what had happened or even where he was, but he never wanted Draco Malfoy to regret choosing him.

***

Draco's tears were grief over his lost childhood and father’s betrayal, as well as his actions or lack thereof since then. Add in what he had learnt today, and well, it was like the stopper he’d had clamped around his emotions hadn’t been secure, and he wept bittersweet tears for every lost chance he’d had and hadn’t taken and the possible reprieve he’d been presented with today. Draco couldn’t have said how long he cried; it could have been minutes or hours, but given he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, Draco felt he was due.

When he stopped, his eyes hurt, and his nose was stuffed, but he felt remarkably calm, though exhausted, as he listened to his mother demand answers as her fingers dragged through his hair.

“He’s fine,” Sirius stressed, tone implying he was getting annoyed at having to repeat it.

“Obviously, he’s not fine; Draco doesn’t cry.” Narcissa snapped, making a soothing noise when Draco flinched.

“I understand your concern, Narcissa, but at this point, stop looking at it from a protective mother’s point of view and put yourself in his shoes and feel what he’s feeling.” Severus stated, “his entire world has shifted; he’s grieving the past and just now starting to understand his future.” There was a pause, and then Severus continued, “It’s an overload and a lot to take in. We had him contained in shields even though we’re the only ones here, so no damage has been done.”

Draco couldn’t help but snort at his godfather’s words, yet it was enough to make him pull from his mother’s arms and shift to a sitting position on the couch. He silently accepted the handkerchief held out and whipped his face, thankful for the cleaning charms embedded in the cloth.

Soft hands were still hovering over him, but he shifted from his mother’s touch, the guilt pouring off of her in waves, making him nauseous.

A potion bottle appeared in his eye view, and he took it, opening it and draining it without asking, leaning weakly back against the couch as he felt the numbing spread throughout his body. It was in a word odd, numbing areas and places he hadn’t even realized ached though avoiding areas that he couldn’t explain, like between his legs and his stomach, and concentrating on the physical throbbing in his left shoulder and jaw and blossoming along the right side of the chest, ribs throbbing. The worst of the ‘injuries’ throbbed bone deep and utterly unlike suffering from the curious curse, and he briefly had the thought that maybe he’d gotten into a brawl of some kind, but a quick search of the room put that to rest.

“Take a second, kid. You’re feeling things that aren’t all yours.” Sirius stated simply that the clink of glass pulled Draco’s attention and made him concentrate on the words just as another potion vial was shoved into his hands.

Draining that one, he sat up, wincing with a groan as the muscles on his back protested, “What in the name of Salazar happened? I feel like a horde of dragons ran me over.”

Opening his eyes, he met Sirius Black’s, feeling the smug satisfaction reflected in them. He swallowed at the hint of wonder echoing from his godfather.

“That was destiny offering you a gift if you’re willing to accept it,” Severus said, pushing a goblet of water in his direction. He did offer a sympathetic grimace, “though it is wrapped up in a betrayal even if you offered to do it already. The grief prevented the pain from tearing you apart.”

Swallowing the water that tasted like spring, Draco shook his head in confusion, “I-what?”

Sirius sighed and leaned forward, holding his hands, palms up, and then lifted an eyebrow when Draco stared at him blankly.

Huffing, Draco set the glass on the table and reached out wordlessly, setting his hands flat on Sirius’s hands. “I, Sirius Black, Earl of Islington, take and accept Draco into the family and give him the name Black to hold and cherish. May the family embrace him, offering him love, safety, and advice as a child of the blood.”

A wisp of white light illuminated their hands, growing in size and brightness until it flew off Sirius to Draco’s chest, enveloping him in a swarm of warmth, the sensation at odds with what he had felt from the Malfoy's magic. He understood instantly that for whatever faults the Blacks had, love of family had never been it. It intertwined with a spark he didn’t want to recognize. Still, he didn’t shy away from it either, reaching out a clinging hand to cradle it, unwilling to look too close at the familiarity in the magic and the resounding sense of “finally” radiating from it.

The chain that appeared around his neck felt heavy and foreign for all of a second before the instant acceptance danced along his skin, harmonizing with his magic as the faint giggling of past ancestors held out arms of so much welcome that he melted at the safety and acceptance it brought, causing a rush of tears to his eyes, making him blink rapidly mourning something his father’s family had never offered him.

With that acceptance came knowledge, like little flicks of water dropped along his consciousness. But he zeroed in on the information, searching his own feelings and what he felt from others, before dropping Sirius’s hands and looking at his mother in utter betrayal: " You hid who and what I was by embedding it into the Heir ring to block it?”

Narcissa pulled back with a pain-filled gasp, tears filling her eyes and shook her head, “I did it to protect you.”

“No,” Draco denied instantly, suddenly furious. You did it to protect yourself, and you know it. It’s why you did nothing to protect me when he started my “training.” He said it with so much venom that everyone flinched and demanded harshly, “How’d he find out? You certainly didn’t tell him, so what gave it away?”

“He tried to sign a betrothal contract in your name,” Narcissa admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks. The family magic told him in the end, just as horrified to realize how they’d been manipulated. But they urged him to take it a step further. They bound and glamoured you, preventing you from removing the ring willingly.”

Snorting bitterly, Draco rose off the couch, “I’m surprised he didn’t disown me, strip me naked and sell me like common cattle.” He turned to face her, “You should have done more; your grandfather was still alive; you could have taken me to him for protection.”

Shaking her head, Narcissa gasped with a sob, “I couldn’t… the marriage rite was bound in blood; I had very little freedom once he found out. He enforced and controlled everything.”

Turning away, Draco faced the blank wall but still saw the tree unfurling in his head. His heart hurt for his mother, but he was still bitter at what he had experienced. He ran a thumb over his empty finger and asked quietly, “Do you regret it?”

“Some aspects,” she admitted softly, “but never you. Draco, you are the only good thing from that marriage; please never doubt that.”

Humming, Draco tilted his head, still feeling aches he knew weren’t his own. He felt his anger flare before tightening control over the shielding - that knowledge being dumped into his head, not as uncomfortable as he would have thought. Still, he didn’t want to share what he sensed with anyone and clung to the newly formed bond, relishing in the happy giddiness that pulsed along the tether. “I appreciate in so far as much as I can that you thought you were protecting me, and I’m grateful you reached out to Sirius,” he felt her relief fill the room and hated to crush it, knowing she would never understand what he had gone through, “yet if you fully want to earn my forgiveness I want one- no two things, and I want it under an unbreakable vow.”

Feeling the tension leap into the room, Draco finally turned to face his ‘family,’ watching the calculating expression on his godfather’s face, the glint of satisfaction in his cousin’s, and finally, the hurt and regret on his mother's face, along with the slump of resignation in her shoulders, that she straightened, wiping her cheeks clear. “I understand, Draco. What can I do?”

“First, you will accept my mate without argument, no matter your personal opinions. No word, deed, or action against them can ever happen. Cherish and treat them as a child you love, and keep our secrets no matter who asks.” He demanded, feeling a buzzing of anticipation in the back of his head.

Startled, his mother’s eyes widened, questions filling her eyes, even as she nodded, “Of course, I’d never do anything to alienate them; what else?”

“I’ll need your help in creating a training plan. My mate will need help in every aspect of wizarding culture, including etiquette, comportment, land ownership, history - basically, the training I received as a child, and whatever else would be appropriate given their titles.” He paused as Sirius swore viciously, burying his head in his hands while Severus chuckled and patted his shoulder condescendingly. “Please note that will also include the history of laws that are probably long forgotten but still valid, and I wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to acquire that knowledge. It should also include creature laws, customs, and biology, given I’m half Veela,” he stopped on an inhale, mind stuttering over that and realized he would have to do his own research. Everything Draco thought about himself was thrown out the window at the realization he was more than he'd been when he woke up. The uncomfortable burning sensation between his legs indicated the ritual spell that bound his heritage fully broken, and it made him uneasy but thankful for the amulet that had appeared around his neck when he was accepted into the family, knowing the magic would protect him until he fully bonded.

Narcissa’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes blinking before she swallowed. The list of things he requested threw her into a spiral of confusion. When she seemed to have gathered her thoughts, she spoke softly, as if hesitant to draw attention to herself: “You speak as if you know your mate.”

Draco hesitated for a breath before an almost smug, vindictive expression crossed his face as he nodded, “I do.”

“Who is it?” She finally asked when it was evident he wasn’t going to elaborate.

Lifting a sardonic eyebrow, he tilted his head, “Your vow?”

She reared back as if struck, surprise flashing across her face, not expecting him to demand it even though it had been asked for.

Draco folded his arms. "My mate is for me to protect, and I’ll protect them from anyone, including you. If you want in our lives, you’ll give your vow, or you can leave and live with the knowledge our children won’t have any grandparents.”

Eyes filling with tears, Narcissa nodded, offering her hand to her son. Clearing her throat, she glanced between Severus and her cousin before focusing on Severus, “if you would?”

“No, Lord Black will execute the vow,” Draco demanded, hands still at his side. He looked Sirius in the eyes and said, “And bind it in the family magic.”

Sirius swore again and shook his head, muttering something about viciousness, but gamely sat up, pulling his wand, “If you would kneel and clasp hands.”

Draco knelt immediately, watching the emotions cross his mother's face before she slowly slid to the floor, taking Draco’s hand without question,

“Do you, Narcissa, swear to accept and cherish Draco’s mate without question or remorse and protect them as your own?”

Sirius asked, tone decidedly odd as a coil of rope slid out of his wand, wrapping around their wrists.

Narcissa swallowed, eyes flicking over Draco’s face, “I will.”

“Will you assist in the education they need to immerse themselves fully into our world, as befitting their titles and station, no matter their opposition?”

“I will.” Her voice wavered briefly, but her gaze held firm, not looking as the second magical rope wrapped around their wrists in a figure-eight.

“Will you swear to keep their secrets, no matter who asks and accept the vow bound in the family magic?” Sirius questioned, eyes flaring with magic as a band of pure white light wrapped around the coiled figure eight, obscuring it from view.

“I swear, on my life, blood, and magic, to uphold the vow and earn my son’s trust and that of his mates.” Narcissa recited, voice surprisingly calm, as the band turned ebony black like their namesake, absorbing the light and reflecting it back before vanishing in a flash, no outward physical mark indicating such a vow had been made.

The silence that filled the room felt airy next to the heaviness the magic left behind, yet Narcissa seemed content to wait until she had been reseated. A tea tray appeared, the tumblers of alcohol disappearing without a word. Once everyone was resettled with tea, Narcissa spoke, “How lacking is your mate’s knowledge of wizarding customs?”

“Severe. They were orphaned and raised in a muggle home that hated them and said nothing of their inheritance.” Draco responded, snagging a cookie. " They’re not muggle-born, though they were raised as one.

“So they’re half-blood?” Narcissa questioned the cup of tea halfway to her mouth. "That’s not ideal, but it’s not horrible. At least we don’t have to worry about parental opposition. What about guardians? Assuming they’re not already legal age.”

“That’s-“ Draco winced and sighed, shoving the cookie in his mouth, using that time to formulate what he wanted to say, knowing he needed to lay out Harry’s history before dropping his name. Everyone’s perception of Harry was skewed, given the countless stories and theories about the Boy Who Lived. “Honestly, that is somewhat more complicated; the titles give a lot of power; if the reported guardian knew of them, they would fight tooth and nail to keep them under their thumb.”

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. "The seats are being used illegally, then? That does complicate things somewhat.” She tapped the arm of the couch, tilting her head to the side in consideration. " Is the guardianship valid?”

“No, but nothing can be done about that until their birthday when they can emancipate themselves.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, stiffening in surprise at the new length. He briefly wondered what else had changed before shoving the thought away. “It’s for protection; the current known guardian can’t have any warning that they’re aware.”

His mother said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the three of them. The two men were suspiciously silent the entire exchange, yet she seemed to understand something in that silence as her fingers tightened into a fist and she closed her eyes. " Is this what you wished to speak to my son about?”

Sirius shrugged, “In around about fashion, I couldn’t tell him for obvious reasons, but it was enough to break free and save himself.”

Narcissa paled, eyes widening, “what do you mean?”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, lazily stirring his cold tea. " If Draco hadn’t acknowledged the bond when Lucius disowned him, his magic would have turned on and killed him. It was the half that Lucius despised that saved his son and not one he considered.”

“I see,” Narcissa whispered and closed her eyes. "And I assume you know who his mate is?”

A sardonic eyebrow rose as Sirius snorted but didn't answer. He slumped in his chair, glared at the grandfather clock on the wall, then glanced toward Draco and said, “It’s almost dinner time, and I imagine you’d like to refresh before sitting down to eat….”

Draco closed his eyes and nodded, feeling drained. “I would, but I don’t think I’d make it through eating if I did. Let’s finish this so Mother can have her little freakout, and we can move on to making plans and getting my mate here.”

“I don’t appreciate the accusation. I’ll freak out upon learning who your mate is,” Narcissa chided primly, lifting her chin with a challenging lift.

Huffing, Draco lulled his head against the cushion, drawling carelessly, “If you don’t freak over the name, you will over the titles, and if that doesn’t do it, the magical inheritance will.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with a frown, licking her lips. Slowly, as if dreading the answer, she asked, “Titles? Inheritances? As in plural? How many?”

A smile tugged at Draco’s lips, and he glanced at the wall, “how well do you remember your history lessons, mother?”

Ice-blue eyes widened in surprise at the question, and she slowly shook her head in bewilderment, admitting softly, “It was never my strong suit, but if you could give me a starting point?”

Draco kicked back on his couch, feeling wrung out but determined to complete the conversation. He was no longer interested in drawing it out: “Cadmus Peverell married Slytherin’s fourth-generation granddaughter and had three children. The oldest, a son, became the direct magical Heir to Slytherin’s line after the previous line died out. Peverell children produced four more generations before the oldest in line became a squib, a daughter that married into the Warren line.”

Draco summoned a glass of water, took a gulp and earned a little twitch of his mother’s brow, either at his delay tactics or his ‘uncouth’ behaviour and revelled in it, pleased, knowing she wouldn’t rush him no matter how impatient she was. “That line married into another family; that family had 11 generations of male firstborns before they had a daughter born into the twelfth, in which magic was reintroduced into the line. Her child was the thirteenth male born,”

“Dragon?” Narcissa's voice was a whisper, her eyes growing wide at the implications, but he wasn’t done. "My mate's father has an impressive history, indirect family connection to Godric Gryffindor, married into the Peverell line, and is the Heir to a third ancient home.” Draco glanced at his cousin before looking at the wall. Cousin, if you would?”

Sirius shook his head, but a curl of hip lip told Draco his cousin was amused as he flicked a finger at the wall.

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, waved lazily, and offered, “You can look if you want.”

Blue eyes slammed into his, and fear and something more undefinable flared in them as she swallowed. "Stop playing games in some perceived misconception that you’re punishing me. Name him, name your mate, Draco.”

Straightening his back, Draco felt a delicious shiver of amusem*nt at her fury and smiled slowly. "My mate is The Duke of Warwick, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, Lord Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, magical heir of Salazar’s Slytherin, Peverell and Potter.” He paused and raised a single eyebrow as she inhaled sharply, “also known as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.”

***

When Harry woke, he was in a heap on his floor, which was a bit of a surprise, but in hindsight, it was something he should have expected. His aunt wouldn’t have wanted him to continue bleeding on her porcelain floors. It would have been interesting to watch her stutter through an explanation, though, if they had left him and Mrs.Anges from two houses down had peeked into the window like Aunt Petunia was always complaining about. Harry had yet to see the older woman do that, but one never disagreed with what she said.

Shifting to his side, hoping to relieve pressure on his chest, Harry hissed as his shirt shifted, having stuck to the welts on his back.

A burst of panic filled him, making him flinch at the intensity of emotions not his own, and he whimpered as nausea caught in the back of his throat.

The sudden emptiness did make him heave, and he wordlessly summoned the garbage can from the corner, thankful for his relative's stinginess in providing food, though it sucked dry heaving.

A hesitant trickle of magic infused through the bond, settling the nausea and dulling the pain in his body, leaving him leaning weakly against the bed, sending a burst of thanks.

It was weird communicating with only emotion, yet more manageable than the spoken word, nervous for that face-to-face meeting.

There was a flash of amusem*nt before Draco’s presence vanished, but not the happiness that radiated through the bond, and it was enough for Harry to push aside his injuries and face the day as he heard his aunt start the process of unlocking the door.

It was a long, exhausting week of daily chores, permanent supervision, and avoiding his aunt's caustic words and uncle's goading. The only thing that kept his temper intact was Draco's steady presence in the back of his head.

Their bond, which had felt fragile, was now a permanent fixture that comforted him and allowed him to accept that his current situation was temporary.

It was just waiting to let Dumbledore’s guard lower, the idea that if Harry hadn’t attempted to escape within the first two weeks, he had accepted his fate, one the old coot had predetermined.

On day fifteen of his unwilling imprisonment, and after a vicious beating he hadn’t been able to avoid, Harry was enjoying his one breath of freedom, weeding the garden, aware that he had to be visible to the guard to continue their reports.

He had no clue who had been assigned as a guard, suspecting they had changed, but if he ever found out one was Mad-Eye, the two of them would have words. The ex-Aurors magical eye, giving him the ability to see the injuries hidden below his clothing, meant the old wizard was compliant in allowing the abuse of a minor. Today, though, it was apparent something wasn’t right in the place he ‘lived,’ the black and swollen face and broken glasses a dead giveaway. He’d wanted someone to be there to see if they would also turn a blind eye, believing whatever lies Albus Dumbledore told, just to keep Harry under his thumb, but it was the lack of eyes that brought Harry’s head up as if scenting the air and caused of lurch of excitement.

Feeling a spark of interest from his bond, Harry let Draco in, giving him the time to parse the emotions.

It seemed to take forever for a response, but when it came, Harry bowed his head and nodded in understanding, trying not to cry. They couldn't be hasty; they had to be sure Dumbledore had lost interest, and it was only a matter of time.

***

“You what?” His mother’s tone was incredulous as Draco stepped into the breakfast room. He was somewhat surprised to see her sitting at the table, dressed in shimmering navy blue robes, which he recognized as a Yule present he had given her last year.

It hurt. Not the initial abandonment after Naricssa’s vow. No, it was the last two weeks. Avoiding all interactions with him, leaving the room if he entered, and treating him as invisible was infuriating and heightened his worry for Harry.

The fluctuating stability of the bond was painful, knowing it wouldn’t be utterly stable until they touched, but having that connection was just as relieving.

Though it was a double-edged sword, when they could only communicate through emotion bursts, attempting to parse Harry’s emotions was often a test of patience, especially when he forgot the plan. Those days were the hardest. All he wanted to do was rescue his mate, hating the pain and confusion he was going through just to lull Dumbledore into a false sense of confidence.

Draco also hated how much it made sense, though he thought having it explained to him like a child was a little over the top.

“Why won’t you claim your seats?” Narcissa demanded, setting her fork down and drawing Draco’s attention back to the room. He opened his mouth to defend himself when Sirius spoke, his voice deceptively calm.

“Think, Cissy. I need the old coot to continue trusting me. If he thinks he controls them without verification, that works in our favour. Albus has no clue I’ve claimed the title, even though I’m free. I still play the part at Grimmauld's place, and I need to go back so when Harry’s rescued, no one suspects me.”

A frown settled over Narcissa's face, lips thinning before she sighed, “Is anything being done to investigate him?”

“Officially?” Sirius asked, rolling his eyes as he continued, “Just Gringotts, the Dverger are gathering evidence, but no witch or wizard would ever challenge The great Albus Dumbledore.”

Draco filled his plate from the sideboard and then settled at the table next to his godfather, who seemed bored with the conversation plate pushed to the side as he browsed a hefty tome, making notes on a parchment.

When his mother said nothing, Draco finished his mouthful and cleared his throat, drawing all eyes toward him, “do you know how much longer Harry must suffer at that home?”

Sirius flinched and shook his head. " No, it’s part of the reason I need to go back and make more of an effort to be seen instead of ‘sulking’ in my rooms.” He shrugged at Narcissa's outward gasp, “It’s what Molly calls it, and I can’t say she was wrong. It'd be my prison if I hadn’t been cleared because this place would never have opened to me.”

“It’s disrespectful.” Narcissa snapped, “Even if you hadn’t been cleared, you are a Black, and you opened your home to them, you’d think they’d be more grateful.”

“Arthur is,” Sirius stated softly, “and I hope deep down, Molly is, but…” he snorted and waved his hand. "She’s a Prewett. She may have married for love, but she misses the prestige of being an accepted Pureblood.”

Confused, Draco took another forkful and glanced between them at the amused smirk that crossed his mother’s face, “did she expect her family lineage to redeem the Weasley shame?”

Shrugging, Sirius snagged the teapot and topped up his cup. “I have no idea, but the Molly that lives in the Burrow is a completely different Molly from the one who is invading a Black ancestral property, and the house is protesting.” He flashed a slight grin. “I may be encouraging the chaos.”

Narcissa smothered a laugh and shook her head, “Of course you are. Is the house still as dark and horrible?”

Snorting, Sirius shuttered, “Worse, Mother dearest added a living portrait to the front hall that shrieks and screams insults.”

A little mew of distaste flitted across Narcissa's face, “Of course she did. Is that old house elf still living?”

“Kretcher? Yeah, he’s doing much better after I ordered him to a conclave for healing. He’s been assisting the house since he came back.” Sirius answered, his eyes dimming.

Severus reached out, seemingly by accident, and brushed their pinky together as he lifted the teapot. "Your mother’s insanity affected the elf; he didn’t mean what he said.”

Flashing Severus a weak smile, he sighed, “I know, it’s a work in progress. Anyway, Molly and the kids have been scouring the house with muggle means and throwing out anything she considers dark and dangerous,” he held up a palm when Narcissa made a noise of outrage, “some of it is, I can’t deny it, the last ten years of mom’s life she slid into the insanity that affects our line, and with no one anchoring the family magics it grew worse.” Sirius cleared his throat and shrugged, “Anyway, whatever Molly finds, and discards are being reclaimed by the house, or Kretcher and Folly, and brought to a secure room here where I’ll have it dealt with as appropriate.”

Narcissa's shoulders relaxed and sighed, “All right, I can see that.”

“Why muggle means?” Draco asked in confusion, “Why don’t they just use magic?”

“There are a few reasons. The first reason is that Molly hasn’t told them they can use magic without detection in the home.”

Draco frowned. “that’s not all of it, though,”

The three adults exchanged a look, Narcissa shrugging, leaving it up to Sirius, who rolled his eyes and sat back, “What do you know of the Weasleys?”

Draco opened his mouth before closing it and shaking his head, carefully admitting, " Only that they’re blood traitors, but no one ever explained why. I always thought it was because they were muggle lovers.”

“Eh, not exactly.” Sirius took a sip of tea, “did you know that the Weasley held a lesser title a hundred-odd years ago?”

Jerking back in shock, Draco shook his head, “What happened to it?”

Sirius sighed, “It was only a minor Barony. I can’t remember the name, but it was a rich family in size and money. During World War 1, the Heir got mixed up with a crowd rumoured to gather with Gellert Grindelwald, though no proof was ever offered. It was also never clarified who was responsible, but Garrett Junior got caught breaking the International Statue of Magic by stealing secrets and selling them to either side.”

Horrified, Draco’s eyes jerked between the three adults, looking for anything to indicate they were lying, and only found severe expression.

“Junior f*cked up and sold the secrets he sold to Hit Wizards borrowed from the ICW; they arrested him and the group of wizards - half-bloods and muggle-borns who assisted him. They were tried and found guilty, then executed for their crimes. Unfortunately for the Weasley family, the Crown seized the titles, lands and money, and then petitioned the court imposing a restriction on the family magic, making it so none can claim it until their legal age.” Sirius explained and then lifted an eyebrow, “the only reason they weren’t made squibs - which was discussed is that every single family member was tested and proved to be a light. It was decided with much debate that they couldn’t make an entire family extinct for the wrongs of one.”

“Wow…..” Draco whispered in a daze and then demanded, “Why don’t they teach any of this in History of Magic?”

“Because Binn’s grandson was one of those convicted, in addition to the fact his curriculum hadn’t changed since 1850 when he was alive,” Severus drawled. He turned his attention to Narcissa. " Were you able to finish the list of subjects you wanted for the crystals?”

“I had,” Narcissa admitted, then glanced at Draco. However, I think I have a few extra subjects to add, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, Cissy. I trust you.” Sirius stated co*cking his head to the side as he wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table, “Leave the list for Severus, and he can load them later; he should be back later tonight.”

“Who’s calling?” Severus asked as he stood and held out a hand.

“Kretcher. He’s in the master suite,” Sirius said, rubbing a thumb over his ring, their appearances rippling to show their original appearance. It was a disorienting sight. Sirius appeared in ripped jeans and an old T-shirt advertising the Weird Sisters. His hair was loose and somewhat ratty, and he had what seemed to be a three-day-old beard. Severus looked like he did at school, complete with a disagreeable expression. “Are you ready for some fun, mutt?”

Sirius wrapped an arm around Severus’s waist and nuzzled his nose against his neck, “Always, though, may I ask that you try not to antagonize Remus?”

Severus rolled his eyes, “I’ll try, but he’s going to have to accept you’re mine, Sirius.”

Smiling smugly, Sirius pressed a kiss to the potion master’s cheek and glanced at Draco. " It’ll probably be boring the next few days, but keep watch on the wall in the den. You’ll know when it’s safe to get him out.”

Then Severus turned in spot, apperating the both, leaving Draco sitting there with a stunned expression: " What? But—I thought only family could apparate inside the wards.”

Frowning a little, Narcissa looked at him, “Severus is family, sweetheart.”

“Well, yeah, I know he’s my godfather, but what does that have to do with the Black Wards?” He demanded, his frown increasing as his mother smiled and then stood with a chuckle, calling over her shoulder as she swept from the room, “Dragon, they’re married.”

***

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

When they landed for the last time, Draco stumbled away, nausea burning in his gut, and collapsed to the ground. Days later, Draco was ready to curse Sirius. His days were filled with finishing his school homework, watching the wall, making a list of things he saw that annoyed or alarmed him, and worrying about Harry.

The bond had solidified between them, shocking Draco somewhat, yet he couldn’t deny the eagerness that flowed from Harry, even if that was mingled with confusion. It was clear Harry didn’t understand what had happened but wasn’t denying the bond. On the days that Harry couldn’t avoid his uncle, Draco did his best to keep the connection open, forcing his help through, understanding without words that when Harry flinched, it wasn’t against his love but at what was being done to him.

It was slowly driving Draco insane, the need to get to his mate increasingly more vital the longer the days dragged on and the abuse happened. He both understood and hated that Harry was left in this position, but the meetings that had been happening daily gave off an air of anticipation, and Draco knew it would be soon. The feeling whispered around his conscience as if Medea tried to reassure him.

The tiny voice that echoed from the wall jerked Draco out of his stupor. He turned to the wall, automatically grabbing the scroll he’d taken to leaving on the end table and the self-inking quill.

The wall rippled to show a dark and dingy sitting room with the two younger Weasleys and an irate-looking Granger, whose mid-sentence voice was clipped and cold. “What do you mean you’re marrying Harry?”

Shrugging, Ginny glanced away, ignoring the bitter look on her brother’s face, “does it matter? You just have to accept that Harry’s mine, Hermione.”

A look of disgust crossed Hermione’s face, and for a single second, Draco took offence on Harry’s behalf, then flushed when the muggle-born snapped back, “That’s vile and disgusting, Harry’s like my brother.”

The Weasel straightened smugly, then deflated as Ginny glared at him before turning to look at Hermione. "The plan is to announce it at Christmas, which gives me six months to plan so I can get married after my sixteenth birthday.”

“Harry doesn’t like you like that, Ginny!” Hermione snapped, incensed.

Smirking, Ginny tossed a leg over the arm of the chair. " So? I can make him love me anyway.”

“You’d—“ Hermione broke off, looking green, and folded her arms. "You do hear yourself, right? Nowhere in that statement did it imply that Harry was on board this derangement; you’re proposing to remove his free will.”

Ginny waved her hand dismissively, “he’ll grow to love and forgive me.” She sat up and pointed, “Now you’re going to drop this subject and talk Sirius into leaving Harry where he is.”

“I am not.” Hermione declared, “Sirius seems to be the only one just as concerned as I am.”

“Hermione,” Ginny’s voice turned condescending. "Dumbledore has already addressed those concerns. Harry’s fine, and you know it. You’re just letting that crazy convict convince you otherwise.”

“Cleared and declared innocent convict,” Hermione retorted, and a calculating expression crossed her face, “does Sirius know any of these plans? Do you think he’d agree to you drugging his godson to get what you want?”

An alarmed expression crossed Ginny’s face before it vanished beneath a scoff, “Of course he does; Mom showed me the contract with his signature. It’s as good as done.”

Rubbing her temples, Hermione tipped her head to look at the ceiling as if pleading for patience, “and what if Harry isn’t as happy with this supposed plan as you expect? He’s sixteen years old and raised in a muggle world; at our age, we’re considered children and much too young to even think of marriage.”

Ginny shrugged, “he’ll marry to carry on his family name. It’s what’s right and proper.”

“You’re insane….” Hermione tapped her lip and slid a considering look at Ron, who had been suspiciously silent the entire conversation. "You’re not just proposing the drugging of the heir to an ancient and noble house, but line theft on top of that, and think just because you slip him a love potion, he’ll fall in love with you for real? What if your plan fails? How do you think your family will deal with the fallout?”

“I’m doing this for my family,” Ginny hissed, rising to her feet, “if I marry the Boy Who Lived, no one will ever look down on us again, and it will restore our name.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned on her heel and stalked to the room, Ginny pulling her wand the second her back was turned.

Horrified, Draco jumped when Ginny cast the freezing charm and then turned to her brother, “You want the witch. You convince her this conversation didn’t happen.”

“I’m not casting an unforgettable.” Ron snapped angrily, hands trembling.

“Then obligate the bitch and suggest it was a disagreement about doing your homework. No one is supposed to know the plan; Mom was very clear on that front, so you do your part, and I’ll do mine.”

Rolling his eyes, Ron rose to his feet and approached Hermione, pulling his wand and casting obliviate. His voice dropped to a whisper too low for Draco to hear.

When Hermione was free from the jinx, she turned to look at Ron with a simpering smile, “Of course I’ll help you, Ron. All you had to do was ask, let’s go to the kitchen and get started, alright?”

Hermione waited until Ron passed and glanced at Ginny, who had curled up in a seat reading a book, and then around the room before looking at the wall and what felt like straight into Draco’s eyes while raising an eyebrow.

Nodding quickly, though, feeling like a fool, Draco collapsed against the couch, not understanding a thing, as Hermione swanned from the room.

Draco was still sprawled on the couch when the wall rippled an hour later, the view changing from the now empty sitting room to show the kitchen, and while he knew the house was protesting the intruders, if he’d thought the sitting room dark and dingy the kitchen was ten times worse. Which was disgraceful, considering that half windows set at the top of the ceiling to allow light were black with soot, making him wonder when the chimneys had last been cleaned.

The banging of a tea tray echoed in the silent room, half the occupants sitting at the table ducking their heads, casting a wary glance towards Molly Weasley, who glared at Sirius Black like it was his fault they were living in his house.

Draco suspected the whole ordeal had been orchestrated by Dumbledore to keep an eye on Sirius, never once thinking the man might do something counter to his wishes. It probably never even occurred to the old man how ancient houses claimed the titles. The bank was the easiest path, but with a family like the Blacks, Sirius’s tactic for not emerging into wizarding London, and the French cutting off his attire, Draco suspected Sirius's bleed and demanded it by right.

Sirius sat at the head, a mulish expression on his face as he drank straight from a bottle of 18th-century fire whiskey, with a more run-down and graying Remus Lupin beside him, casting him worried glances, Severus sat at the opposite end, glowering disgustedly as Ron shovel sandwich after sandwich in his mouth, while Hermione wrote on a parchment with a little wrinkle to her brow. In contrast, Ginny sat opposite her, bent over her parchment with a dreamy expression, quill moving in little looping circles.

“You need to stop drinking,” Molly stated, hands on her hips, “it’s inappropriate in front of the children and doesn’t set a good example for them.”

Sirius just snorted, putting the bottle to his lips, before responding, “Not like I can do anything else. As you so helpfully pointed out, my face is too bloody famous to join in any of the jaunts, remember?”

Molly sighed warily, as if this was a long-standing argument, and waved a hand. " You could help clean up this pigsty, at least help make it presentable for when Harry arrives next month?”

“Harry should be here now.” The man snapped back, pointing a finger, “But you're too far up that old man’s ass to see what's plain as the nose on your face.”

A throat clearing from the door pulled Sirius's attention, and he folded his arms as a kind voice spoke, “Sirius, I can’t let you speak to my wife that way.”

“Then go back to your home and leave me to drink in peace.” Sirius said, “I don’t need a babysitter, and I certainly don’t give a damn about this house. If it wouldn’t cause a fire down the row, I’d cast fiendfyre and hopefully get some ashwinder eggs, that'd be good for something.”

A flicker of amusem*nt and appreciation crossed Severus's face before he turned his attention to his tea, but Hermione’s head lifted, eyes wide. " You can cast fiendfyre?”

“Can I cast-? Of course, I can; I’m a Black—“ Sirius stood up with a mutinous expression and then waved a hand, pointing at Molly. " Don’t you ever silence me in my own house!”

“They don’t need to hear about dark magic!” Molly shouted back, just as angry, “You’re not corrupting them like you were!”

A cruel smile slid onto Sirius's face, “I wasn’t corrupted, Molly. I was tortured daily by my insane mother in the hopes it would make me stronger. It made me so strong that at eleven years old, I had enough of a backbone to stand up against family traditions,” he sneered the word, “and was picked for Gryffindor, the first in my family line, as for being Dark? Well, that’s subjective, isn’t it? Fiendfyre is classified as dark, as it’s cursed, but it’s the intent in which it’s used. If it’s to hurt and kill others, then, yeah, it’s dark as f*ck, but to use it to purify something evil, wouldn’t that nullify the argument it is dark? Considering the horrors this house has seen and absorbed, I’d consider it dark as f*ck. The only form of purification that could cleanse the grounds is Fiendfyre.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, but another throat clearing from the door turned their attention, revealing Mad-Eye and Bill Weasley, looking at Sirius in something like thoughtful awe though it was Bill who spoke, “I’ve never thought of magic in that way, but I kind of have to agree with it,” he shrugged when his mother gasped at him in dismay, “I’m a curse breaker, Mom. What Sirius said makes sense; ritual requests or fire are two ways to cleanse an area. Given the magic permeating the air and the location, a ritual wouldn’t work, and a normal fire would do nothing but spread the influence to other places.”

Red-faced, Molly huffed angrily, “I still don’t want him talking about it with the children.”

“They’re not really children though, Mom, they’re already targets by being on the side of light. Wouldn’t it be better to understand the differences in the darker magics?” Bill asked curiously, “I know when I finished Hogwarts, the year of training I did under the Dverger-“

“What are Dvergers?” Ron asked dumbly, mouth gaping with food still in his mouth.

“The goblins.” Molly sighed warily.

“Goblin is a racist term employed by wizards to degrade a sentient species they consider below them, but their magic is pure, vast and beautiful.” Bill replied firmly, “The correct term is Dverger, and if you want the respect of a species that controls your money, don’t insult them by considering them less.”

Watching then, Draco made a mental note to find an opportunity to speak with Bill Weasley in the future because the man was intelligent, and it showed in his speech.

In fact, it was somewhat startling when Bill plopped into the empty seat by Sirius and accepted the bottle handed to him, took a drink ignoring his mother's outraged hiss, and looked at his brother, “You know, Ron, getting Hermione to do your homework is going to do sh*t for your education.”

Ron jerked and blushed red as his mother rounded on him. “Is that true? Is Hermione doing your homework?”

Stammering in denial, he shot his brother a dark look as Hermione timidly held out the parchment when Molly demanded it, then ripped it to pieces and shoved it in the stove. " If I catch you asking or letting Hermione do your homework again, I’ll get access to the mock tests of the owls, and you’ll do them under my supervision, Ronald.”

Ron’s response was lost to the next wave of people, some of whom Draco recognized and some of whom he didn’t. Food and drink were quickly passed around, and the sound of quiet conversations filled the air before Dumbledore arrived, wearing the tackiest set of purple and yellow robes Draco had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

There was a quick reshuffling of people and chairs before a stare-off between Albus and Sirius, who apparently refused to move, glowering at each person who attempted to convince him, “You know I don’t ask for much, and what I have asked for has been denied repeatedly. None of you will let me join a team; hell, you won’t even let me go to the store without a guard, yet you have no problems invading my home, eating my food, or availing yourself of places to sleep and all without a common basic courtesy of saying thanks. So no, I’m not giving up the chair I’ve been sitting in since,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “two, when the meeting was originally supposed to start.”

Albus’s nose twitched, but he waved a hand as he sat in the vacant chair that had been meant for Sirius near the foot of the table. " That’s quite already, dear boy. I apologize. I figured Molly or Arthur would have informed you I had to change the time, as I was in meetings with the Minster.”

“How thoughtful,” Sirius intoned sarcastically, “but maybe address them to the owner of the home and not the guests; it’s called manners.”

“Of course, it was thoughtless of me, I apologize.” Dumbledore stated, frowning at the bottle, eyebrow twitching, “Maybe you should switch to something a little more appropriate when having guests over?”

“Over my dead body, I didn’t invite any of you here,” Sirius growled, the sound emerging from his chest, tonal and threatening, eyes glinting hard. He inhaled sharply and shook himself before returning to the bottle, ignoring everyone as he took another drink.

The awkwardness passed as Dumbledore cleared his throat, “I thought it appropriate to gather everyone here so we could have a clear and concise idea of the larger picture, so let us begin with Voldemort's actions, Severus?”

The potion master sneered at the headmaster and shrugged, “he’s had one meeting since the ministry fiasco, where he has taken up residence in the Malfoy manner with Lucius’s full permission if he’s had more since I’ve not been summoned.”

Dumbledore nodded as if he expected that and tilted his head, “what of Lucius’s wife and son? How are they taking the stay of their guest?”

“I wouldn’t know; they weren’t at the meeting, but assume since the mission was a failure, they’ve been closely guarded and watched,” Severus responded, clearly annoyed with the question.

Dumbledore rubbed a temple, “Well, if you are summoned, maybe you could find out more about their circ*mstances; they could be a valuable asset.”

Severus nodded but didn’t reply.

“What about your employers, Bill? Have they indicated who they support?” Dumbledore asked, stirring his tea.

“Neutral,” came the clipped response. Each side has approached, but none with any terms the Dverger considers favourable or fair; in fact, compared to the last treaty signed, the offers were decidedly worse.”

“I see.” Dumbledore's sigh was full of disappointment, “will you continue trying to convince them to choose for the light? It would be beneficial for us if they consented.”

Bill didn’t even nod but accepted the seemingly never-ending bottle of whiskey and took a drink, ignoring his mother’s glare of disapproval.

“What about you, Remus? Have you had any luck?” Dumbledore asked after a minute.

The werewolf shook his head. " The majority chose neutrality, too, though a number like Greyback flocked to his side.” He paused and licked his lips. “I’ve been asked not to come back while I use the potion; they think the treatment of my wolf is barbaric and have threatened to free him from the chains imposed on him.”

“Ah…” Dumbledore frowned, “is this the argument against the universal use of wolfbanes?”

Jerking a nod, Remus dropped his gaze, chewing his lip.

“You’re not possibly thinking their arguments are sound, are you?” Dumbledore asked in concern, leaning forward.

The wolf shrunk into his chair and shrugged, “I’m still- they seemed to believe what they said.”

“I realize there is some controversy around the usage, Remus, but it does the job intended, which is to control and subdue the wolf.”

“By poisoning him,” Sirius shot back, gesturing to his friend. "Look at him and tell me he looks healthy,” Sirius said.

Remus ducked at the attention and shook his head at Sirius, earning a growl of disappointment that sent him cowering and whispering. “I’d rather not discuss this right now; it doesn't pertain to the meeting.”

“Quite right, my boy.” Dumbledore agreed with a pleasant smile, “What about your task, Mad-Eye?“

The ex-Auror glared at Dumbledore, making the old man pull back in surprise, “It’s a bloody waste of time, twenty-four hours watches, and the kid was outside for two hours twice since he’s been home. The wards are strong, and there hasn’t been a hint of a whisper of activity in the area; in fact, there is a dearth of any activity. It’s a muggle town; the only crime committed in the last thirty days, and I looked, was a shoplifting incident committed by a 14-year-old girl.”

“I see. So, is your suggestion to drop the watches to two?” Dumbledore asked carefully.

“No, I’m saying drop them, period. No one’s going to find Potter, and it’s wasting our time when we could be out doing things.” Mad-eye folded his arms. "I realize you want to keep the kid safe, but his relatives watch him like a hawk. If something were to happen, the wards would let you know, and we could muster a response.”

Dumbledore frowned, dropping his eyes to his tea, tapping the side ideally, “Very well, I’ll visit in the next couple of weeks to see how the wards are holding, and if there have been any attempts, you can call off the guard rotation tonight.”

Mad-eye pulled his flask and sipped a mouthful. "I already did. Three of four are here, and Mungdanus arrived tossed, so I dropped him in the Thames to sober him up.”

“You had Mungdanus Fletcher watching my godson!” Sirius shouted, face flushed without rage.

Whatever else Sirius was about to say, Draco missed it because Severus and Hermione looked straight at him and mouthed go, and Draco listened.

Racing from the room without a glance back, the pain echo from the bond spurred him on faster.

***

Appearing just before dusk, Draco looked around the neighbourhood in surprise.

The view before him was a picture-perfect row of identical houses. The only variation he could see was the front yards. Some held what he assumed were muggle children's toys, others had flower beds, and one house had chairs on a little patio. There wasn’t garbage strewn about. There were no loud noises or shouting; the only sound to be heard was the haunting melody escaping one house.

It was jarring and unexpected, the expectation that he’d land in a horrible little alley, one he’d been left in as a child during one of his father’s lessons on the inhumanity of muggles, a stark difference to what was before him. Objectively, Draco understood that not all muggles were criminals and thugs—Hermione and her parents were a prime example of that not being true—but the lessons his father imparted leaned towards a direct bias against people he found inferior, of whom he viewed every one of lesser rank.

Now Draco stood, shifting uncomfortably, unsure what to do. He hid behind a large oak tree, causally casting a disillusionment charm with his spare wand as he looked around again. It was disconcerting that there were no muggles out. Given that it was summer weren’t muggle children given the summer to play?

Sighing, he looked around at the houses, noting a few had lights glowing behind closed curtains, but the majority were dark.

Leaning against the tree, Draco worried his thumb, tearing off a piece of skin, relishing the sting of pain as it helped him settle. Wiping the blood on his pants, Draco ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and looked at the houses again, concentrating on the bond.

Scanning the houses quickly, it didn’t take him long to feel the pull, the dark house standing foreboding, coiling with malice and discontent. The only beautiful part of it was the flower bed outside, as it seemed to sparkle unnaturally in the setting darkness, and somehow Draco knew that Harry had been the one to take care of the flower bed, the care and attention he’d offered the flowers returning that by growing perfectly and radiating life.

A dog barking caused Draco to jump, but it was enough to propel him forward. The slick slide of the warding fell off his magic and puddled on the ground. It wasn’t the reaction he expected, and he blinked in confusion, but the sound of stomping and a deep rumbling tone full of satisfaction filtered through the door: " Sorry about the mess, Pet, but the freak shouldn’t move until morning, so let me clean up the kitchen for you.”

Draco didn’t hear if there was a response, waving a hand to reveal the inside of the house, showing both heat signatures in the back and the faint one of Harry upstairs.

Casting a silencing charm, Draco eased open the door, shutting it quietly after he slid inside and moved immediately up the stairs; his only goal was reaching his mate.

The locks on the door were infuriating but easy to undo with magic, and Draco slipped inside, heart plummeting to the soles of his feet at the bloody mess that greeted him.

Worried, he cast a wordless hand to the door, a modified notice me not, and moved to inspect Harry. He felt a tear run down his cheek at the visual inspection superimposed by mage sight. Blood, urine, and tears were smeared on his face, and he had clumps of hair missing, his oversized clothing torn and shredded, revealing old scars and new wounds, some seeping puss, some blood, and some cauterized crudely along with a little collection of vivid bruises. The only thing that kept Draco from panicking, somehow against all odds, was that he was still breathing. Wordlessly casting a cleaning charm, Draco leaned over Harry, pulling back and freezing as emerald eyes flickered open at the touch Draco hadn’t realized he had done.

The vivid green meeting his was pain-filled but calm even in the growing fever that rolled off the body in waves. Harry’s mouth quirked at the side, pulling at the half-healed split, reaching up a trembling hand to hold Draco’s hand against his cheek, his eyes filling with tears. " You came?”

The question caught Draco off guard, and Harry’s disbelief indicated that the warding had gotten to him even with the protections in the Heir Ring. It caused another tear to fall. Draco’s hand trembled as he brushed a glowing thumb over the split lip, watching it heal instantly. The glow from the touch spread under the skin, healing damage in its wake. It seemed to numb the pain as Harry’s eyes reflected his relief.

Swallowing, Draco fought to keep his tone calm and simple, not allowing any of his darker thoughts to creep out: " Yeah, I did. I promised I would. They’re never going to hurt you again.”

Harry blinked, his mouth opening and closing, his tongue coming out to lick his dry lips. “I know. Do you have a healing potion or three?”

“Yes, of course,” Draco responded, pulling out the potions, upset he’d forgotten them. Breaking the seal, he helped Harry drink them, then blinked in surprise as their wrists glowed silver, tethering them together before fading, leaving an intricate band of silver on both wrists.

“Draco?” Harry said, twitching as if he was trying to move, but Draco shook his head, heart racing, as he placed his hand on Harry’s chest to prevent him from moving. Shoving aside the giddiness at what it meant, more concerned with getting him to safety, he glanced around the room, wondering where his stuff was.

A warm hand circled his wrist, his eyes jerking to Harry’s, who had a little quirk on his brow as his finger brushed the band, “soulmates?”

Swallowing, Draco nodded, somehow surprised that Harry knew what they meant: " Yeah, is that alright?”

A slow grin crossed Harry’s face, “considering you’re already my mate, having another bond isn’t a hardship, Draco.”

A helpless chuckle escaped him, and he fought the tears that threatened, “I guess not. I just—it seems sudden, doesn’t it?”

“Eh, maybe, but I think there’s always been something there, too,” Harry responded carefully and winced as he shifted. "Let me up, Dragon.”

Blushing furiously at the endearment that sounded completely different from Harry's, Draco released his hold and helped Harry sit. Letting Harry lean against the bed, Draco monitored him as he got his breath back, the colour coming back to his cheeks. “Do you know where my relatives are?”

“Kitchen, or at least they were when I snuck in,” Draco responded, glancing around the room. “Where’s your stuff?”

Harry rolled his eyes and forced himself to his feet, only to collapse onto the bed, “under the stairs locked up.”

“What? Why?” Draco demanded, enraged.

Harry let out a pained sigh that wasn’t at his words but at his injuries, making Draco flush in shame, “sorry, that was-“

Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed, “It’s alright, it’s an instinctive reaction,”

Drawing a breath to keep from snapping, Draco released it slowly, saying, “I don’t think I can sneak us out without getting caught.”

“We’re not sneaking,” Harry said, closing his eyes and not explaining.

Draco opened his mouth to question Harry when magic flooded the room. The warding did not even attempt a half-hearted struggle as they seemed to twist into something unrecognizable and shredded like fine china before blossoming and reforming. The shimmering in the air indicated Harry had done something to them without a wand.

It was fascinating and a little more than terrifying, for his eyes glowed with power when Harry opened them. He rose to his feet and stood straight for only a second before he seemed to shrink in on himself as he glanced at Draco.

It wasn’t hard for Draco to understand that Harry was terrified of what he’d think, even without the bond. Yet, in this circ*mstance, no amount of words would convince Harry, so Draco did the only thing he could: sending a pulse of unrelenting reassurance and acceptance.

The cold look that entered Harry’s eyes made Draco know he understood, but the soft touch of his fingers on his jaw helped, too, and Draco offered a timid smile that was returned as he followed his mate from the room.

Harry led the way down the stairs. The power radiating off him made Draco want to back him against the wall and drop to his knees. Draco had always known his obsession with Harry was weird. Knowing of the mate and now soulbond could only explain so much, but there had always been a whisper that called to him. Something he hadn’t seen or understood but had felt and knew now was the attraction of power. He’d glimpsed it over the years, not always firsthand, but in whispers and rumours of things Harry had gone against.

During the first year - based on rumour and clarified points provided by Severus was how the golden trio had navigated an obstacle course meant to prevent the dark lord from acquiring the Philosopher’s Stone.

In the second year, that was clearer. Draco had started the rumour that Harry had been the Heir to Slytherin after speaking to the snake. It was an ironic twist when it turned out to be true. He just wished he knew what had happened that had ended the threat.

During the third year, he had Sirius & Severus’s firsthand accounts of what had happened. Still, the detail that struck Draco at the time was Harry’s ability to cast a fully corporeal Patronus and hold off a swarm of hundreds of demonstrators.

That, in and of itself, was a feat no other wizard could claim. Sure, some could hold off half a dozen, a few rarer, maybe the full dozen, but hundreds—it was unheard of—but everyone just accepted it because Harry was the boy who lived.

After that event, there had been rampant speculation and discussions in the Slytherin Common room, and the most commonly accepted theory was that the lay lines under the school had powered the spell.

The events Draco had watched during the fourth year with the Triwizarding Tournament had once again indicated something about The Boy Who Lived but nothing to the level of dementors. The only equivalent that Draco could come up with at the time was Harry’s easy use of spells, jinxes, and charms that were NEWT level or throwing off the impervious in the first lesson, and that said nothing of his duel with the Dark Lord after being used in a ritual.

He hadn’t meant to overhear that conversation. Still, he had caught his father talking to Snape about what had happened, wondering if the potion master would have some insight or explanation for Harry’s abilities.

Last year had been the DA, something Draco had heard about reasonably early but had continually ignored, wishing he could join. Then, there were the resulting events at the ministry that had been detailed in every newspaper, courtesy of Ron Weasley, though he didn’t know how the blood traitor got away with it.

Draco blinked back to himself as Harry hit the landing. The door opened, and a large, round teen about their age entered, tripping over his feet and reeking.

Harry froze the surge of power once again, making Draco salivate. He felt weak with desire as the magic rushed over his skin, caressing him as intimately as a lover, and he wanted it. Blessed Merlin and Morgana, did Draco want the man who was his soulmate.

The fat boy looked between them with wide eyes that took on a cruel, anticipatory edge. Before Draco could react, he took off running through the house, yelling that Harry was sneaking a ‘boy’ out.

Shaking his head, Harry continued moving through the house, knocking on the door under the stairs. The padlock clicked and fell with a thud as the door to what Draco was—the kitchen—burst open, and the fattest man Draco had ever had the displeasure of seeing stood there. His complexion was ruddy, and his breathing was harsh, but instead of anger or rage, the only emotion Draco could see was fear.

Nephew and uncle stared at one another in silence as Harry flicked a finger, the door opening beside him, the truck inside shrinking and flying into his hand, the chain and padlock dull plop, that seemed to be a trigger for the fat muggle as he opened his mouth, inhaling harshly and the paled as nothing came out.

“Into the kitchen, Uncle Vernon,” Harry stated simply. He strode forward, Vernon backing up so fast that he tripped, bouncing off the wall, pushed himself off, and scurried away.

Draco was on Harry’s heels when they stepped into the kitchen and found the two adults cowering in front of the fat teen. However, between the hall and here, Vernon seemed to have found some spine because he puffed up once again and declared triumphantly, “They’re going to kick you out. You’re not supposed to use magic. Remember?”

Harry shrugged unperturbed, “They’d have to catch me, and they won’t.”

“But-but-but.” The horsey-looking woman stuttered, shaking her head, “The old man, he promised, said you wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

Harry tilted his head, snorting, saying, “Yeah, Dumbledore’s good at promising things and failing to follow through.”

Surprised, Draco couldn’t help but look at Harry even though he knew objectively that this entire summer had been at Harry’s insistence. He had never expected Harry to be so verbal in disregarding the Head Master. Harry never reacted outwardly but did send a pulse of a promise, and Draco allowed himself to relax, taking it to mean Harry would explain later.

“As for Dumbledore and his promises, when he suggested I couldn’t do magic while under the wards, he was saying I wouldn’t be able to do it with my wand,” he offered a somewhat cruel smile that made Draco swallow and bite his tongue, not sure how he felt.

A ripple of magic was visible in the room, and a wand Draco didn’t recognize appeared in Harry’s hand, the shower of sparks reacting to Harry’s magic, making the Dursley shout in fear, “You see, even if I hadn’t changed the wards, I could have used ‘this’ wand. No one knows I have it, and I sincerely doubt the ministry has a trace on a wand that was created almost 1400 years ago. I can guarantee the previous owner would have had words if any tried.”

Dursley’s reaction didn’t surprise Draco at this point. They shrieked again, the sound dying mid-syllable as Harry casually waved a hand, and they fell silent, eyes wide and terrified.

Curiously, Draco looked at the wand in his mate's hand, questions bubbling on his tongue that earned him a flash of amusem*nt from Harry, who rolled it in his fingers, more sparks emerging from the tip, making Draco bite back a laugh when he realized Harry was doing it on purpose as the Dursley’s through themselves back against the counter arms raised as if to ward off a blow.

Harry rolled his eyes at the display, “You know most would be proud to be on the receiving end of this wand, even if they were trying to kill me for it, though it would be useless to them considering its tide to a magical inheritance of which I am the only one qualified to hold.” He paused and actually pouted at the blank look on his relatives faces, before his aunt spoke, voice pleading and stuttering, “pl-pl-please don’t-don’t kill us. We-we only did what-what the old man said…”

Harry pulled back, magic coiling angrily, “he told you to neglect and traumatize a little boy, beat and starve him every day he lived under your roof? Punish and call him a freak for something as natural as breathing? Did he tell you to say my dad was a drunk, making me hate the thought of him because he was so irresponsible as to drive drunk and cause a crash, taking both my parent's lives? Is that what Dumbledore told you to do, Aunt Petunia?”

“Nnn-no…” Petunia dropped her gaze, mouth opening and closing like a fish before licking her lips, “he told me to raise you.”

“Which you didn’t do. You took your jealous childhood hatred out on me and punished me for having what you wanted.” Harry retorted bitterly, “I’m not going to kill you; that’s not nearly enough punishment for what you allowed me to suffer under your roof.” Harry drew in a deep breath, “No, your punishment is going to be much more subtle, and the irony is you won’t know why your dreams are haunted by my eyes, the same colour as your sisters. You won’t understand the anticipatory fear of waiting for that unknown. Still, there will come a day when my face lands in the newspapers, and when that day comes, everything you did will come back, and you’ll sit and wait in fear and horror, wondering if the truth will come out, if there will be consequences for your actions….”

Harry’s arm moved, half hidden, before his head tilted to the side and opened his mouth.

Draco jumped at the odd hissing and shivered in the realization that Harry was speaking- no casting wandlessly in parseltongue, as a burst of light encased the Dursleys blinding them. Harry watched for a second before waving a hand at the partial mess still in the kitchen, removing the blood and cleaning supplies. Then, without a backward glance, turning and snagging Draco’s hand, he pulled him from home, past the new warding, and, without any hesitation, turned and apparated them away.

The cool, dew-covered grass felt terrific against his overheated skin. Mercifully, his mind was blank. He was not sure he was ready to process anything that happened, so he just breathed in the summer air. He felt the warmth of another body sit beside him and then a hesitant touch to his soaked, covered hair before Harry’s voice whispered softly, “Sorry for that.”

Groaning, Draco rolled to his back, struggling to make sense of the sunrise, and looked startled at Harry, who looked away with a hint of shame and worry burning in his eyes.

“You jumped us around all night?” Draco croaked in surprise.

Shrugging helplessly, Harry jerked a nod, “Yeah, I mean, just in case it was a decoy. I scattered our magical signatures all over Great Britain.” He lowered his head, “No one’s going to be able to follow the whole trail. In fact, I’m pretty sure early spots have already dissipated, but I couldn’t risk it.”

Draco stared at his mate, slack-jawed, and incredulously said, " But-but how? No wand, you-you, it’s not possible until your sixteenth birthday.”

Harry frowned as he looked at Draco, then licked his lips hesitantly, shrugging uncomfortably, “It’s kind of obvious it is possible.”

“Obviously,” Draco snapped, sitting up, “I don’t understand how. You’re not magically matured….” He trailed off, glancing at his mate and looked at Harry, remembering the weird moment at the train station at the end of term when Harry seemed to curve down into himself, a resignation settling on his shoulders. He compared it to the confident Harry that sat beside him now and shook his head dumbly, “I don’t understand.”

A breathless, almost pained laugh escaped Harry, who ran a hand through his messy hair, “Yeah, I didn’t understand it when it happened either, and I didn’t have the luxury of having someone I trusted to explain it. I muddled through for almost three bloody years, hiding and masking what I could do, half expecting someone to call me on it because I couldn’t let anyone know. There was something undeniably different. No one ever did, writing it off as another thing boy wonder could do.” He sighed and glanced at him from under his lashes, “It wasn’t until the Yule last year that I found a trusted source, someone that could explain in detail what was ‘wrong’ for lack of a better word.”

“Who?” Draco asked after a minute, wondering who Harry could have found if he didn’t already have someone. He was unwilling to admit he felt jealous that it hadn’t been him.

Harry snorted a laugh and bumped their shoulders together, startling Draco, who hadn’t realized he’d unconsciously moved closer. It made him flush in embarrassment, but he didn’t back down his challenging look.

Eyes bright with laughter, Harry shook his head, leaning forward to cup Draco’s chin, thumbing his mouth, “You’re adorable.”

Flush intensifying, Draco hissed his denial, “I am not; you’re insufferable.”

“Eh, maybe, but that doesn’t make you not jealous,” Harry replied in amusem*nt, lifting a brow as if daring Draco to deny the feeling.

Huffing, Draco averted his gaze, “How- you weren’t like this before….”

“You acknowledged the bond, demanded it, really.” Harry explained gently, “I couldn’t risk you figuring it out when you were in such a precarious position, trapped with my enemies. If they’d had a hint of what you were to me before your maturity….” He trailed off with a shudder, “It didn’t matter how many times I wanted to save you; it wasn’t worth the risk of you falling into their hands fully.”

Draco frowned, focusing on the words, “I still don’t understand how you matured before me. You’re two months younger.”

“I’m also the magical heir to an ancient line. That line existed before modern magical inheritance, Draco.” Harry replied softly, “I matured the year I turned fourteen. If holding off hundreds of dementors wasn’t an example of that, I don’t know what was.”

Flushing at the reminder of his early thoughts, Draco drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, questioning even though they both knew it wasn’t an actual question: “Slytherin’s line….”

“Yeah, as well as Peverell’s, who married into the Slytherin line. I’m a direct descendant of the oldest son; both are considered extinct due to no magical descendants. The only reason I haven’t claimed the Potter bit is because it was still in existence during the magical upheaval in the 1300s that imposed a restriction such as age on those things.” Harry explained calmly, almost too calmly for the chaotic swirl of thoughts crowding Draco’s head.

“So, how did you understand it? You said you had help.” Draco questioned, eyes roving Harry’s face, noting the increasing blush that climbed the dark cheeks.

“Last year was particularly difficult. Masking my abilities and level of power hadn’t been much of an issue, even during the tournament, but watching you struggle put my instincts through the roof,” Harry stopped and drew in a breath. "If I didn’t want to hex or cuddle you for being insufferable, I wanted to claim you.” He offered an apologetic grimace, “which you can guess was a bit of a problem, given our rivalry over the years.”

Face feeling like it was permanently red, Draco shifted, feeling a spike of arousal and pressed closer, mouth opening on a breathless gasp.

A whole-body shiver shook Harry, but he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He whispered against his hair, “I couldn’t risk your Veela inheritance coming through while under your father’s control because even if we had proved we were mates, he would have been stupid and never consented to the match.”

“Why do you say stupid?” Draco asked in confusion.

Harry swallowed, “I know I have loads to learn, but my teacher explained this in detail, so I understood the risks. If the Veela Mate became known before I was sixteen, and your father consented, he could have challenged the Wizengamot for my seats, given the magical inheritance it would have given Lucius all four houses.”

Horrified, Draco swallowed, “And you’ve known this for six months? That would have been maddening. It’s only been weeks, and I thought I would go mad. I can’t even comprehend how you fought it for months.”

A chuckle vibrated Harry’s chest, voice deepening as he admitted, “Sweetheart, it’s been years, probably the same time the inheritance hit.”

“Years!” Draco squeaked, pulling back wide-eyed. How had you fought it for so long?”

“Years, but it was easy,” Harry agreed seriously, gazing into his eyes, “I might not have understood exactly what was going on or what I was feeling, but I’d never do anything to put you at risk, Draco.”

A warmth filled Draco’s chest at the word and intensity of Harry’s stare, licking suddenly dry lips, “You’ve managed to hide this side of yourself very well.”

Grinning, Harry snorted a laugh, “My teacher will be pleased to hear that. He despaired for months that the closer you got to manifesting, the harder it would be for me to control.”

“Your teacher despaired….” Draco started and then trailed off, “Why?”

Snorting, Harry laughed, “Because I was a wreck with an incomplete and unacknowledged bond, I wasn’t sleeping much, if at all.” He shrugged when Draco stared at him critically, “It was somewhat easy to hide the real reason from everyone else considering everything that happened,” Draco wrinkled his nose at the reminder of their horrible fifth year and nodded, encouraging Harry to continue, “yet when it got to be too much, after Yule, I spent my time mapping out the Chamber of Secrets.”

An involuntary gasp slipped past Draco’s lips as he stared at Harry in complete shock, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” Harry replied tiredly, “I couldn’t even give you an accurate timeframe of how often I skived off classes just to escape everything.” He flashed a cheeky grin when Draco gaped and shook his head in denial.

“But you were always in class or at meals.”

Smirking, Harry titled his head, “Was I really?”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head in helpless confusion: “I—I think so. My memories say I saw you, but….” He trailed off and groaned, burying his head. "Harry, what is going on?”

“Hogwarts, sweetheart. She knew who I was and helped me hide or escape. She willingly created the illusion or suggestion that I was there so people didn’t question my lack of presence. Unfortunately, after the DA was almost caught, it meant curtailing my visits until after hours if someone came looking during class.”

Draco blinked, and though it felt surreal, he didn’t question it, though he did pull back, “What a minute? If you’ve only known about the magical inheritance for six months, why did Sirius find out after the ministry? Who told you?”

Harry raised a brow, “Draco, I mapped the Chamber of Secrets.”

When Draco didn’t react, Harry shook his head in disbelief and asked slowly, “Love, who built the Chamber of Secrets?”

Flushing at the endearment, Draco felt his stomach flip. He dropped his eyes to the ground for a beat and then jerked his head up, “You found his study?”

“Yeah, I found the study and his anima imago . He’s tutored me in magical arts and theory for six months.” Harry admitted carefully, inspecting Draco’s face.

It was no wonder, as Draco suddenly felt faint, his hands trembling and his stomach starting to gurgle. He dropped his head into his hands and said, " I think we should head to the manor, eat, and sleep because I honestly don’t know if I can process anything else that’s this groundbreaking.”

“Do you need help standing?” Harry asked instantly, half rising to his feet.

Draco groaned but nodded, squeaking in surprise as Harry hauled him to his feet, proving he wasn't weak even though he might be smaller.

The action, though, made Draco dizzy, and he leaned weakly against Harry, closing his eyes, “I don’t, f*ck I might hate apperating after this.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered against his hair, Draco having rested his head on his shoulder. "I can help you walk if you want.”

Snorting, Draco shook his head. " We’re not going to be able to walk to the Manor, Harry. It’s hidden, and only blood can enter.”

“I know that love,” Harry whispered, amusem*nt laced in his tone.

Lifting his head, Draco cracked an eye to glare at him, “Then why suggest walking?”

“Because we’re at the end of the gardens, I wasn’t sure where to land us as I’ve never been here,“ Harry offered dryly, wrapping a firmer arm around Draco’s waist when his head snapped up.

Month dropping open in surprise at the familiar gardens and the manor in the distance. “How?”

Harry lifted his right hand, the air shimmering around his fingers before the Heir ring appeared on his index finger. " It appeared the second Sirius claimed the title,” he shrugged in annoyance. "It’s been useful, more than I expected. What Salazar didn’t drill into my head, the family finished.”

“Food, sleep, talk.” Draco said, trying not to whine, “in that order, it’s been a long bloody day.”

“Alright, love, let’s get you fed,” Harry said, walking him towards the manor without another word, though there was a smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to Draco’s head.

***

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Harry had the vague idea that waking shouldn’t have been a slow process, but for once, he wasn’t in overwhelming pain, covered in blood and vomit or other bodily fluids. He was feeling somewhat refreshed, if not weak like he’d been drained, though given the wards around the room he was a prisoner in, that was what it felt like.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he started to realize that he didn’t hear his aunt, uncle, or cousin. There was no noise from the TV or rattling of dishes in the kitchen, and the ever-present hum indicated that his prison felt different. It was warm and comforting, almost as if cradling him in a net of safety, the sensation causing his eyes to sting.

The coolness of the statin sheets finally seemed to register against his naked skin, and he shivered a little, not understanding where his clothing was. He’d never slept naked before, sometimes using every piece of clothing he owned to stay warm as a child as he curled around a thin, moth-eaten blanket that had more holes than fabric.

A soft and familiar whisper turned his head, but his eyes refused to open as heat seeped into the blankets, wrapping around the magic that cradled him. Harry relaxed against the solid body, the sense of safety overriding the knowledge that someone wrapped arms around him, holding him close as he fell asleep.

Each time he woke after that, it was to a soft voice, pleading and whispering reassurance at every turn. Sometimes, it was to swallow as things were poured down his throat, another was a warm cloth cleaning the sweat from his body, but more often than not, it was arms wrapping around him and promising him he was safe as the nightmares were chased away.

Finally, after countless instances of sleep-waking, Harry woke, blinking his eyes as he took in the sunlight room, the rich and old dark oak furniture the first indication he was not at Private Drive. The second indication was the magic thrumming through the air, dancing in the sunlight that spilled on the floor and hit the end of the bed, warming his feet. The magic felt alive and joyful, embracing him like what he thought a lover would feel like, and the thought made him swallow, memories rushing in, threatening to overwhelm him. The fight with Uncle Vernon, Draco’s miraculous appearance, the resulting personality switch he fought to keep under control emerging, and the explosion of overwhelming force for not only his mate but his soulmate's safety if anyone had found him there.

Twisting his head, Harry’s eyes hit blond hair, fanned across the dark satin sheets. He blinked, hand shaking violently, as he reached across the small space towards the teen that slept beside him. Exhaustion made his complexion more grey than normal, with dark circles under his eyes he knew to be silver. He felt a flush of regret that he might be the cause of Draco’s appearance.

A brief flash of embarrassment lit his face, the realization that he was naked under the sheets, meaning someone had to have seen his body, but that thought drifted away as he continued to stare.

There was something different about the teen beyond general exhaustion. He looked so young sleeping beside him, but there was a sparkle to his skin that hadn’t been there at the end of the term or noticed at his relative's house. It was more than that, though; Draco had always been taller than him, even if it had only been an inch or so at the beginning, but somewhere around the third year, Draco shot up, topping him by almost a foot. Harry had stayed the same, short, but at least having consistent meals for 10 months of the year; he’d gained some weight; Harry knew he was still skinny but no longer felt like he looked like a refugee from a detention camp. Looking at Draco now, he saw more differences. The sparkle was still evident, but his face was softer and less angler, though Draco still had his pointy little chin. There was a sense of wonder as Harry stared at him, wanting to wrap the other man in his arms and protect him from the world, making him blush and shift uncomfortably, knowing he wouldn’t be able to protect a radish right now, never mind the angelic beauty beside him, having overtaxed everything in his mad dash around the country.

Guilt clawing at him, Harry tore his eyes away and glanced around the sunny room again, catching sight of the invisibility cloak tossed over the back of a chair, with his school trunk somewhat more charred than previously. Indicating that some of the taunting from the door had been accurate, Vernon had attempted to set it on fire.

Feeling the body twitch beside him, Harry looked over instantly, swallowing at the wrinkle between Draco’s brow, feeling the nightmare building.

Before thinking it through, Harry reached out, shocked by how weak he felt as his hand hit the pillow next to Draco’s head—a whimper caught in Harry’s throat, angry that he couldn’t do more.

Draco’s head jerked up, his eyes sleepy as he reached over the bed. His voice was as soft as Harry remembered: " It’s alright, love. It’s a dream. You’re safe.”

“Only because of you,” Harry whispered his voice cracking, making him wince at the dryness. Memories surfaced abruptly at what Draco had seen when he’d arrived to rescue him.

Draco’s head snapped to meet his eyes, excitement and happiness flaring in them, though he couldn’t hide the fear or nervousness either. “You’re awake?”

Harry blinked a little at what felt like a somewhat redundant question, feeling dread and nausea war in his stomach, “ho-how long?”

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbed a wary hand down his face, and answered the question honestly, “Almost a week.”

Horrified, Harry stared at his soulmate, tears filling his eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

Draco smiled shyly and shook his head, “Uncle Severus explained what happened; he said that you burnt yourself and your reserves out and cautioned that even trying to cast a simple Lumos for at least a week might cause a reaction headache.”

Groaning, Harry covered his head with a hand. “I figured, is there anything else?”

Feeling Draco lean over him, Harry lowered his arm, a blush climbing his cheeks at the expression on Draco’s face, “he healed the injuries not taken care of by the Health Potion, then prescribed a treatment plan for the rest of the summer.” The young wizard paused and licked his lips, “he’s not sure if it’s possible to correct the damage done to you, but said it was worth a shot as it will trigger another maturation, which could boost the physical changes,”

Nodding absently, Harry gazed at Draco, searching his eyes, “what about you?”

“I’m OK.“

“You look terrible. You're still pretty, but you’re obviously exhausted. You have bags under your eyes, and you feel….” Harry trailed off, pulling back into the pillow as he stared at his soulmate in horror. “I’ve been draining you.”

“No, I’ve been sharing.” Draco corrected quickly and then moved, lying beside him, trapping Harry for the moment. "Hey, listen. I don’t think you understand how terrifyingly close it was, so I asked Severus, and he walked me through opening a small trickle. There are no side effects beyond a little lingering exhaustion.”

Harry glanced at Draco, still feeling horrible that he had unintentionally hurt his mate. Blinking, he touched Draco's face with the tip of his fingers. “I can see you.”

A small smile tugged at Draco’s lips as he sat up, “Uncle Severus repaired the eye damage and promised to find out why it wasn’t offered to you when you started at Hogwarts during your intake exam.”

Frowning, Harry copied him. Exhausted, feeling like every muscle had atrophied from lack of use, he collapsed against the pillows, muttering tiredly, “That’s easy. I didn’t have an intake exam.”

“What? But you—you had to. It’s the law. Every muggle-born is supposed to go to St.Mungo’s and complete the intake, which includes inoculations that affect muggle-borns.”

Shaking his head, Harry’s eyes flicked longingly to the door halfway across the room, the mirror telling him what the room was. “I'm not sure what to tell you, love, but the first time I visited St.Mungo’s was Yule after Ron’s father was attacked.”

Darting a glance at Draco when his soulmate said nothing but stared at him, Harry bit his lip, but the urgency of his bladder made him push past his embarrassment, “Draco, can you help me to the bathroom?”

Draco’s flamed red as he swallowed hard. However, he rose from the bed with a nod, snagging a dressing gown off the chair.

Accepting it, Harry pulled it on and tied it closed before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself to his feet. A feat he regretted instantly as black spots appeared in his vision, and the only thing that saved him was Draco taking most of his weight.

“Steady, I got you.”

Feeling an arm slide around his waist, Harry took a breath and stepped forward, feeling like he was fighting a battle just to get his legs to agree. It felt like forever, but they got to the bathroom. Draco got him situated near the toilet before turning his back, giving Harry as much privacy as possible.

Glancing at the shower when he finished, Harry desperately wanted to step inside and wash the last few weeks off but didn’t know if he had the energy.

“Do you want help with a shower?” Draco asked softly, cheeks still tinged pink.

“I….” Harry trailed off and flushed, admitting equally soft, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Draco demanded, back stiffening in offence.

Leaning against the counter as he dried his hands, Harry raised an eyebrow incredulously.

Draco flushed crimson, hunched his shoulder, and laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, that was a dumb suggestion. I just….” He trailed off helplessly, “Fighting these instincts is harder than I thought.”

“It’s probably going to get stronger living together,” Harry warned, slumping against the counter, feeling like whatever energy he had acquired suddenly disappeared.

A warm arm wrapped around his waist, Draco’s voice rumbling in his chest as he shifted Harry’s weight and led him forward, “Let's skip the shower for now and use a cleaning charm, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Harry agreed; around a yawn, he tried to deflect into his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

“Let’s get you back to bed, and you can eat before you nap,” Draco whispered, nuzzling his hair. He deposited him onto the bed and waved his hand to summon a set of pyjamas.

Gratefully, Harry accepted them, wordlessly accepting the help when his limbs refused to cooperate. He knew he should fight to stay awake to eat, but standing to pull the pants up took the last of his energy. He was already half asleep when he felt Draco tuck him back into bed, brushing a kiss over his forehead with a whisper of reassurance.

***

It was the absence of a body next to his that woke Harry. His hand automatically reached out to touch, encountering an empty space beside him.

Eyes snapping open, he jerked his head to look around the room, noting the darkening sky—not quite dark—and found Draco curled in the window seat, with a large book on his lap and a floating table to the side. He was scratching notes on parchment and felt himself relax.

It wasn’t a dream.

Inhaling on a rush of emotion, Harry released it slowly and then coughed at the dryness in his throat.

Silver eyes stared down at him a second later, holding a glass of water. "Hey, how are you feeling?”

Easing into a lounging position, Harry accepted the water and sipped, “Overwhelmed and starving.”

A sympathetic expression crossed Draco’s face, “I have no advice for the first, but I can get food if you want?”

Nodding, Harry finished the glass as Draco called out a name, “Folly.”

A second later, a house elf dressed in a neat little dress popped into the room, big eyes shining with happiness at seeing Harry and bobbing a curtsey, “Master Harry, and Master Draco calls.”

“Please bring Harry a tray of light foods Uncle Severus approved,” Draco asked politely.

“Does Master Draco wish for a snack too?” Folly asked before popping away as Draco nodded.

Taking the glass back, Draco tilted his head, “Do you need help getting to the bathroom again?”

Harry frowned as he assessed his energy levels, hesitantly shaking his head, “No, I don’t think so, but keep an ear out ‘cause I might need help getting back.”

Helping Harry out of bed, Draco stepped back and let him make his way to the bathroom, staying outside but within hearing distance.

Harry used the bathroom and washed his hands, snagging a cloth to wash his face, eyeing the shower with longing before making his way from the room and towards the table beside the fireplace where Draco was fussing over the tray of food. “it’s just a light repast, I don’t think it’s a good idea to overload your stomach, but you do need real food, potions are only going to do so much.”

Stomach growling, Harry sank into a chair without arguing, already anticipating what was under the lid based on the scent alone.

When Draco removed the lid, his eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced up at Draco, “This is light?”

Smiling, Draco set the tray to the side and gestured to the bowl, “Yes, now eat unless you want help.”

Face flaming, Harry dropped his eyes, surprised at the array of food that was considered ‘light.' Porridge with mixed berries floated in a layer of thick cream, some sort of herbed bread that smelled like heaven, and a rich yellow butter still melting at the edges, sat on the edge of a plate that held scrambled eggs and two slices of ham and a ration of hash-browns. A tall glass of orange juice stood in place of pumpkin juice, which Harry was thankful for, and a small pot of tea, hesitantly picking up the spoon, noticing the slight tremble in his hands. Dipping it into the berry-rich porridge, Harry started to eat, savouring every bite. Porridge had been nothing like this when growing up, often a congealed, tasteless lump.

It was only as he was scraping the bowl clean and contemplating licking it that Harry realized he was done. He felt a flush burn his cheeks as he set the spoon down, shifting the plate around to start in the eggs.

They ate in silence, but not the weird, awkward stretches that Harry had expected; it felt comfortable in a way Harry had never experienced before, and it did more to calm his nerves than anything.

It was only when Draco set down his spoon from eating his snack that Harry spoke.

“I know we have lots to discuss, but can I ask a question?”

Draco jerked his eyes back to Harry’s and nodded.

“What triggered your Veela half?” Harry blurted, flushing, “I know your birthday was last month when it should have come out, but it-it didn’t, and I don’t understand.”

Sighing, Draco set the teacup back down and ran a hand through his hair, “I was disowned.”

Startled, Harry drew back, thumbing the heir ring with a frown, “Oh, that-what? How-why does that have anything to do with it?”

A flat, bitter smile crossed Draco’s face as he shrugged, “I didn’t know.”

Harry mouthed his words, copying them, and shook his head in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“The Veela half was hidden from me. My mother knew I was half Veela when I was born and hid that. She was terrified of what Lucius would do, and everything was perfect for the first nine years.” Draco responded softly, “I can’t say he was a nice man, but he treated me kindly until he attempted to sign a betrothal contract. Upon the failure, the family magics figured out the spell woven to hide what I was linked to the Heir Ring.“ Draco licked his lips, “he was livid, and so was the Malfoy family magic. They bound and subdued the Veela half together, anchoring it to the ring I never took off after my ninth birthday.” A pale, self-loathing smirk crossed his face, “I remember being so proud that I was given my ring a year early that I lorded it over the guests for the rest of the day; that night, my father started my training.”

Feeling a flare of rage at Lucius Malfoy and a possessive spark for Draco, Harry reached across the table and covered his soulmate's hand. " You didn’t deserve that.”

A weak smile creased Draco’s lips, “I know, but that’s what happened. As for what happened to awaken it, Sirius and I were talking when I arrived here on the last day of school. He’d just finished showing me the family tree, which is how I learned your ancestry…. I knew immediately that there was something between us, and I was overcome with guilt and grief, but both Sirius and Severus said it protected me from the pain of the disownment. Without the ring locking the Veela away...” Draco trailed off with a swallow, “I knew and felt you, this bright shining star that wouldn’t let go, even when you sleep.”

“I have to protect you.” Harry muttered, cheeks red, “I want it; it’s an honour that you’re mine.” He snorted and shrugged apologetically, “Not to make you sound like you’re a possession, because that’s not what I mean, just magic thinks we’re perfect for each other. It’s humbling and heartbreaking because I’ve never had that before; this is undeniable proof that I’m worthy of having love. That I’m not a freak-“

“You’re not a freak.” Draco snapped, glaring, “You didn’t do enough to punish your relatives for their intolerable treatment and behaviour.”

“Are you sure about that?” Chuckling, Harry withdrew his hand and picked up the teacup Draco had filled for him. He took a sip, his face grimacing at the taste but refusing to request coffee or, better yet, hot chocolate. If his mate wanted him to drink tea, he’d bloody well drink tea, however much it reminded him of swamp water.

Frowning, Draco’s eyes flicked between his and the teacup before he folded his arms. "There wasn’t enough screaming.”

“I wasn’t going to torture them physically, Draco.” Harry responded dryly, knowing mate didn’t actually want him to resort to that behaviour, “I’m better than that. The same goes for killing them. I told the truth that letting them live without knowing the future consequences is more than enough punishment.”

“You also said they wouldn’t remember why,” Draco replied cautiously.

“I did.” Harry replied carefully, shoulders slumping, “and I meant it.” He paused and took a deep breath, admitting softly, “I modified their memories using a combination of blood magic and parseltongue.“

Draco froze, eyes lifting to his, but at the very last second, Harry jerked his head away, unwilling to see the condemnation in his soulmate's eyes.

Warm fingers touched his face, tipping it up, forcing him to meet his gaze.

The pure, unreserved understanding in Draco’s silver eyes hit Harry like an avalanche, and he surged up, claiming Draco’s lips hungrily. The need for food was forgotten as Draco wrapped his arms around him and gave back everything he was.

***

Hours later, the echo of a clock rang out at midnight. The two teens snuggled together on the bed, Harry’s head on Draco’s chest, his long, pale fingers combing his hair absentmindedly.

The calm, steady reassurance filling the room and filtering through the bond made Harry nuzzle his nose against the silk shirt Draco wore.

“It’s from a book I found in Salazar’s study,” he paused and licked his lips. “By definition, it’s dark magic, probably one of the reasons parselmouths are so feared. Salazar cautioned me about the book, telling me that even if the spells aren’t known as they’re both blood magic and parselmouth, it’s still a good idea to avoid casting them unless there are extenuating circ*mstances.”

Thankfully, Draco didn’t say anything; he continued to exhibit a calm that meant more than any worded responses he could offer. Harry couldn’t help but cuddle closer and admit, “I shouldn’t have cast it on my relatives, but I don’t regret it either. They deserve so much more.”

A hum of agreement rumbled in his ear, the fingers continuing their mindless combing, but Harry lifted his head. " It’s the third spell I cast.”

His soulmate stilled briefly, eyes fluttering shut, “when?”

“The ministry and the wards at the Dursley’s.” Harry admitted roughly when Draco opened his eyes again, “Sirius was duelling with Bellatrix, and it was like I saw him get hit and tumble through the Veil,” he shifted until he was sitting and rubbing a rough hand down his face “it pissed me off, and reacted before I could think.” He shrugged, swallowing the anger, “As for the wards, Dumbledore tied them to my magic, with loyalty charms woven in.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Draco asked quietly.

Shaking his head, Harry ran a hand through his hair, “No. I didn’t trust anyone with the knowledge; they might not be classified by today’s standards, but they are dark magic.”

Draco winced and then shifted into a sitting position. "They might be dark in the sense it’s blood magic, but the defining difference is in the blood acquired.“

Harry rolled his eyes, raising a skeptical brow, “I’m pretty sure light wizards would argue the execution and claim the beginning doesn’t excuse the means. They’d still condemn me as dark.”

“No, probably not, but I was raised by a dark wizard, Harry. One that revelled in the torture of victims. You’re not like that; even though you don’t regret what you did, you still consider it with disgust; you’d never be willing to torture someone or use another’s blood.” Draco frowned and rubbed his eyes, “I’ve found in my experience the classification of light and dark is based on bullsh*t. Our society is built on the need to define and divide so someone can be blamed easily.”

“Or they use me.” Harry huffed bitterly and lay back down. "Can I ask what we need to do next? I know we need to wait until my birthday.”

Draco copied him, rolling to his side so he could face him, playing with a button on his shirt. "Well….” Draco trailed off, blushing, admitting, “This is a little presumptuous of me.”

Harry shrugged; strangely, he was relieved by what he would have considered Draco’s high-handed behaviour years ago. The snooty superiority that he was better than everyone else because, in this instant, Harry knew that to be fundamentally true. He had a vague idea of the power associated with his inheritance but honestly hadn’t wanted to know the titles when he had the chance. The understanding that they were old and considered extinct already felt heavy and uncomfortable, which had just meant another reason for people to look at him strangely, and he had enough of that already.

Smiling at the worried expression that grew on Draco’s face, Harry reached up a hand, thumbing his cheek. "Be as presumptuous as you want, I—" he flushed. "Honestly, I have no idea what to expect when I claim my titles; I just know there are multiples.” His flush deepened as Draco stared at him in growing horror and defended himself: “I didn’t want to know.”

“Didn’t want to know?” Draco squeaked, “But-but you told your relatives they’ll know when the newspaper arrives!”

“I-yeah, I did, but-but the ring.” Harry lifted his hand, “Medea is embedded into the Heir ring. She told me to say it.”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry.” Draco shook his head, eyes wide, and then ran a hand over his face.

Harry froze, eyes on Draco’s wrist, and reached out to grasp the limb, running a reverent finger across the silver band. He’d known they were soulmates, but he’d forgotten they’d been marked, “legends have it that the start of a soulmate bond is silver; sometimes it only stays silver, but sometimes it turns-“

Harry cut himself off, eyes filling with tears as the silver turned gold, and snapped to Draco’s, who flushed and shrugged, finishing for him by caressing the gold band. “It turns gold with the acknowledgement and acceptance of the bond.”

Draco, rubbing a thumb under Harry’s eye and brushing away a tear, said, “I want it. I don’t care about your titles, inheritance, or my lack of one. I don’t care what you’ve done to protect yourself or will do in the future. You’re all that I want, Harry.“

Sniffling, Harry rubbed his hand across his nose, causing Draco to pull back in exasperated disgust. He airily summoned a Kleenex, “You peasant.”

Accepting it, Harry blew his nose, eyes caressing the sight of the matching gold band, and a giddy grin broke free. "It’s real.”

“Yeah, it is.” Draco whispered in agreement, biting his lip, “No regrets?”

“Never.” Harry declared vehemently, “No one is tearing us apart.”

Draco drew in a breath, “Alright, not to be a pessimist, but we need to continue the research I started on what soul bonded and mates mean. I can’t be accused of line interference, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t try that route.”

“Is that something we need to be worried about?” Harry asked, not understanding completely.

Draco nodded, admitting, “It’s a concern, but there is more.” Draco’s eyes flit over his face, eyes burning with an intensity Harry couldn’t identify, and when he spoke, there was an odd detachment in his tone.

“Start with the reasons it’s a concern.” Harry prompted.

“The Weaselette believes she’s marrying you,” Draco stated bluntly. “When Granger pointed out that you had never paid attention to her in that way, she brushed it off and alluded to the usage of potions to sway you.”

Jerking in revolution, Harry shook his head. "It's not happening. Even if she attempted a love potion, the ring would counter it.”

Draco inclined his head, “They don’t know that, though Granger threatened to inform your Godfather, the Weasley siblings prevented that, the youngest by freezing her, and Weasel by obliviating her.” Draco clamped a hand around his wrist as he sat up, “Let me finish.”

Glaring at him, Harry drew in a breath and nodded.

“Sirius has given her a family Heirloom, either at Medea’s insistence or based on his observations. She’s safe and biding her time, letting them think it worked.”

Releasing a shaky breath, Harry nodded and laid back down. “Is that the only concern?”

“No, there were claims that a betrothal contract was signed with Sirius’s signature,” Draco admitted softly.

“It’s fake,” Harry whispered softly. "Just like the contract your father attempted to sign, this one would be invalid, too. Magic knows bonds, acknowledged or not.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t attempt something anyway,” Draco replied bitterly.

“We could have a contract drawn up for us,” Harry offered, smiling as Draco snapped his eyes to his. "It would probably calm the turmoil your Veela half is experiencing.”

“I….” Draco frowned, “Are you sure it’s not the soulbond?”

“No, but I don’t know much about them. At least nothing that isn’t instinctive.” Harry admitted, summoning a glass the glass of water, “I know Hermione did more research and shared some of the basics, but I was more concerned with staying alive in the fourth year.”

An amused chuckle left Draco as he rolled to his stomach, laying his head on his arms, “which is fair. Though you flew beautifully against the dragon, it was a somewhat intense year.”

Draining the glass, Harry set it on the bedside table, snorting, “I'm more annoyed that I didn’t know Dragons understood parsaltongue until last year. It would have made that task much simpler.”

Draco opened his mouth in confusion, “What?”

“I learned from Salazar that I could have just talked to the Dragon during the first task,” Harry stated and grinned. "I’ve had dreams where I did, and everyone lost their minds, claiming I cheated. They’re probably the only pleasant dreams from that time.”

Draco chuckled as Harry flushed, “Anyway, soulmates are theorized to be a gift from Hecate, a reward for the faithful. It’s rare today, but everyone still knows the stories and prays they’ll be chosen.”

“Did you?” Harry asked softly.

Shrugging, Draco shifted, stuffing the pillow under his head, “As a kid? Every day, sometimes twice. I was obsessed with the stories of Arthur and Merlin. As I grew older, and my mother’s influence was diminished by my father’s involvement, I buried it deep inside, no longer believing I was worthy of the honour.”

“Draco?” Harry whispered softly.

“My father started my training the year I turned nine, Harry. It- it wasn’t pleasant. They were survival lessons.” Draco lifted his head, eyes glistening as he met Harry’s, “I was ten the first time I cast Cruciatus….” He shrugged helplessly at Harry’s horrified gasp, “My father said the muggle deserved it being a thug, but it was still horrible either way, not that it mattered. Neither of us had any defence. It’s also when I stopped believing I was worthy.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to that, but the expression on Draco’s face made him heartbroken. Draco offered a small shrug, “From what I read in the books, the first six weeks can be periods of clinginess, the need to touch or be touched. It’ll help the possessiveness that comes from being a Veela mate.”

“But I-“ Harry cut himself off and shook his head, “I still don’t understand.”

A light blush climbed Draco’s cheeks. "It’s a two-fold bond, soul and mate. We can sense each other's emotions and feelings, but it’ll grow with close proximity, and you’ll be able to tell if I’m injured or in danger….” Draco trailed off, shrugging self-consciously. "I’m sure there’s more, but I haven’t really had time to read, and I haven’t asked my mother.”

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, licking his lips before asking hesitantly, “Does she disapprove?”

“I don’t know.” Draco admitted, adding softly hurt coating his tone, “She’s not exactly happy with me, but she’s helping create a plan for education befitting a noble.”

A yawn emerged from Harry, making Draco smile softly, “we should get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Harry yawned again and shook his head, “No, we have too much-“

“Hush, love,” Draco whispered, cheeks tinged with colour, not that he took back the words.

A giddy grin spread across Harry’s face at the endearment. He snuggled closer, rubbing his face against Draco’s chest. “It feels like this should be weirder than it is.”

Draco murmured in agreement, chuckling softly, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll get weirder when the jealous, possessive monster rears its head, refusing to let anyone near me either.”

“Great, just another thing to make me different.” Harry groaned as he pulled the blanket over them.

“Most people would be proud to be the mate of a veela.” Draco offered haughtily.

“I am,” Harry responded instantly, adding somewhat exasperatedly, " It’s still weird, though. I didn’t know if I could trust that it would happen.” He gazed at Draco in confusion and wonder, “I’m unbelievably happy it has.”

“I’m happy too,” Draco replied in a soft whisper, smoothing the blankets with one hand, “I know you want to talk more, but you need sleep too.”

Chuckling, Harry yawned, eyes slipping closed as a hand combed through his hair, lulling him to sleep before he could respond.

***

A soft cooing brought Harry out of a dead sleep, and he sat up instantly. “Hedwig.”

The snowy owl cooed again and fluttered from the perch near the window, landing on the bed with a little hop as she approached, eyeing him sideways.

“She showed up this morning with a letter,” Draco offered as he emerged from the bathroom, nodding to the corner. Folly set up the perch, found the nesting box, and magicked the window so it would open for her to hunt if it was closed.”

Reaching out, Harry let Hedwig sniff his hand before caressing her head. He was horrified to feel tears fill his eyes, “When the term ended, and I got home, I had to fight with her to leave.” Harry wiped at the tears that refused to fall, “I was terrified my uncle would kill her, just because I loved her.”

“But he didn’t, Harry..” Draco responded softly, sitting on the bed, caressing the snowy owl’s head, laughing as she nipped playfully at his fingers. “She’s such an odd bird.”

“She was my first friend ever,” Harry admitted, ignoring the odd comment and addressing the bird. "Did you have trouble finding me?”

Hedwig chittered at him heatedly, puffing up her feathers as she hopped onto his covered knee.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t take the risk, no matter how much I appreciate the vision you offer.” Harry replied with a grin, “Did Hermione take good care of you?”

Hedwig chittered at him again, ruffling her feathers and rolling her eyes, before turning to look at Draco, whose mouth fell open. This made Harry laugh and glance at the table stacked with books. “No, sweetheart. They’re not hatchlings. They just have the same work ethic.”

“Are you having a conversation with your bird?” Draco demanded, then frowned and turned a bewildered expression on the owl. “Did your owl just ask if I was related to Hermione Granger?”

“Hmmm.” Harry agreed, scratching the owl's neck, “She said you have the same habit of getting lost in a tome and not realizing the time...” Harry patted the owl's head again, nudging her off his lap. He grabbed the robe from earlier, pulled it on, and left the bed.

Stopping in front of Draco, Harry smiled at Draco’s expression, “You know being compared to Hermione isn’t bad, right?”

“I know that.” Draco snapped, face falling immediately at his reaction, “Sorry-I, bad memories.”

Reaching out, Harry took Draco’s hand and squeezed it in response to the apology. "Let me use the bathroom, then we can talk, alright?”

Swallowing hard, Draco nodded, averting his gaze, though he did return the pressure before letting go.

Harry watched him for a minute, gathering the papers in a neat pile, face contemplative as he moved to sit at the table, calling Folly’s name.

As Folly appeared, Harry moved into the bathroom, using the toilet and washing his hands and face. He was still finding it weird to see without glasses.

When he entered the bedroom again, Folly was just setting the tray down, her face serious as she listened to whatever Draco was saying. It didn’t take long for the elf to nod happily, “I is able to do that, Master Draco. Do you have an outfit in mind, or is you wanting Folly to choose?”

“The one for the bank is dark emerald green, with black under robes and silver cloak, but you may pick four or five others that can be tailored until we can acquire more,” Draco responded, eyeing the tray as the elf lifted the lid.

“What about yous, master Draco?” Folly asked, ears wiggling with excitement.

“The black and silver embroidered robes,” the teen replied, absently catching sight of Harry standing there unsure.

Draco rose fluidly to his feet and paced forward, the elf popping away without a word, only for the sound to echo from the adjoining closet as a light flicked on. Draco smiled shyly and held out a hand, “Come, let’s eat.”

Eyeing the closet, where he could see the elf’s figure darting around, Harry swallowed nervously. "What was that I overheard?”

Draco flushed but didn’t answer until Harry was sitting. "It’s somewhat presumptuous of me, but given your status, you don’t have the clothing necessary to fit that role, so I asked Folly to make some alterations.”

Harry blinked and groaned, “I’m really going to regret not asking questions about that, aren’t I?.”

Draco smirked as he lifted a plate of the same fare he’d eaten last night and set it in front of Harry, “You could say that.”

Harry nodded, took a bite of food, mulled over what Draco said, and flushed hard before asking hesitantly, “Can you give me a hint?”

Draco paused briefly, lifting a warning eyebrow, “It’ll probably make you spiral.”

Swallowing, Harry dropped his gaze to the porridge, “I’ll wait.”

“I’m hoping we can get Pansy here shortly after your birthday because she has an eye for fashion that even I lack. If given carte blanche, she'd be in heaven,” Draco said with a smirk at Harry’s wide-eyed look.

“You trust Pansy?” Harry asked, then added hastily, “With me?”

Thankfully, Draco didn’t take offence and smiled, thumbing his bond mark, “I trust Pansy with my life, Harry like you trust Hermione.“

Harry chewed another mouthful of food and glanced at the end table with his medication, “I forgot to take my-“

Draco set his fork down and rose to his feet, crossing the room and coming back with two vials. " It’s alright; we remembered. Take them now, and then finish eating.”

Harry’s nose twitched as he drained the vials, handing them back one at a time. He then waited for Draco to sit again before continuing the previous conversation: “I do trust Hermione with my life, but I’m honestly not sure how she’s going to take our bond.”

Draco shrugged as if it couldn't be helped. “That’s true, but you said she researched soulmates at one point.”

“Ah, yeah, fourth year, during one of the research binges she went on when helping me with the second task.” Harry frowned and added, “I’m not sure why she thought a soulbond would help, but I didn’t argue; I was just grateful I had one friend willing to help me that year.”

Draco sighed and laughed sadly, “it never occurred to you that she might have been trying to find out if you two shared one?”

Harry’s jerked his eyes up to Draco’s in horror, “Oh, Merlin, I hope not.”

“Relax, Potter. I didn’t say that to make you panic; it was more of an acknowledgment that Hermione is smart. She probably already knows the answer to any of the questions we have….” Draco trailed off at the look in Harry’s eyes and shook his head, “We can’t until after your birthday, Harry.”

Harry deflated and heaved a sigh, “I know, but I’m pants at research.”

“Are you? Or have you just never been taught the proper way to do it?” Draco countered and then waved the question away, “Back to your original question, me trusting Pansy. The answer is yes, probably for the same reasons you trust Hermione. The difference is my and Pansy’s friendship goes back to our childhood, raised by fathers in the Dark Lord’s inner circle.” Draco took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat, “We agreed in fourth year to give the illusion we were dating. It gave us a medium of privacy and allowed me to hide that I had no interest in any of the other females in the school.”

Harry frowned, shovelled the last mouthful of porridge into his mouth, and chewed. “Is Pansy safe at her home?”

Draco lifted his head, eyes reflecting his grief as he shrugged, “I don’t know. Our plans changed somewhat this summer with my father’s arrest.”

Licking his lips, Harry took a drink of water, “may I ask what those plans were?”

An indecipherable look crossed Draco’s face, and he set his fork down. "We made the plan to do a blood ritual adoption, but now, with the disownment, that’s not possible.”

“Oh, is there another option?” Harry asked, setting his spoon down and picking up his fork.

Draco leaned over the table and gripped his hand, thumb caressing the bond mark, “I don’t know.

Harry frowned, thumb capturing Draco’s, “Is Pansy sixteen?”

“Yes, her birthday was in March,” Draco replied absently, munching on a piece of bacon. “Why?”

“Would it make a difference if I…” He trailed off as his ring heated, and he dropped his gaze to his hand.

“Harry?” Draco asked after a minute of silence.

Lifting his eyes, Harry met Draco’s, “I’ll ask Sirius to adopt her into the family; I need to adopt Hermione.”

Draco stiffened and stated. “that’s not what you were going to say.”

“No, it’s not, but my idea was vetoed.” Harry admitted, then shrugged, “I’m not sure why, but I assume it’s something that was ‘seen.’”

The curtains fluttered in agreement, making Harry grin. “I love magic.”

“It’s bloody creepy if you ask me, but I understand.” Draco muttered, eyeing the curtains, “Makes me glad I’m not the heir.”

Feeling a prompt from the ring, Harry grinned and leaned forward, “No, but you’ll be my consort, which will bring its own set of family secrets.”

Stilling, Draco looked at him, “but…”

Harry smiled, “I meant what I said. We can draw up a contract if you need it to feel more secure. But just know that nothing is coming between us. You’re my soulmate. Nothing is preventing us from getting married.”

“Aren’t we too young?” Draco asked slowly, his eyes shining.

Shrugging, Harry released a breath. “Objectively, maybe? But who’s going to argue with us if we just do it? You’re sixteen, and I will be in a few days. Hell, we could even do it while at the bank. The words are for us, and Hecate to bless.”

Draco’s hand tightened Harry’s wrist, admitting hesitantly, “It feels like a massive step for the start of our relationship.”

“Yet?” Harry prompted with a grin.

Draco returned the grin, though it slid into a full smirk, “It has the added bonus of being higher than my father could ever dream, and with the disownment, he couldn’t claim any sort of recognition from it.”

“Draco?” Harry spoke softly, feeling unsure. It wasn’t anything that Draco had said, but his genuine amusem*nt at his father’s expense and the elation and pride that echoed from the bond.

Draco must have read the look on his face, or maybe he felt Harry’s hesitation because he smiled softly, rose to his feet, pulled Harry with him, and then paused.

Dropping Harry’s hand, he slipped inside the closest, the voices inaudible, but Draco returned holding a pair of slippers that he set at Harry’s feet.

Baffled but curious, Harry rolled his eyes as he slipped them on, then let Draco lead him from the room.

***

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

The walk through the manor was silent, but Harry didn’t feel like he needed to fill the air with mindless chatter, content to be led by Draco, who seemed to know where he was going but let him gawk in wonder as Harry took in and catalogued the differences between the two Black residences he’d visited.

After a few minutes, Harry said, “I’m glad I’m not at Grimmauld's place this year.”

“Hmm? Why?” Draco asked, squeezing his hand.

Shrugging, Harry tilted his head, considering the simple question. “Besides the obvious, I’m unsure what to do about Ron. He was my first friend, and it’s hard to reconcile the boy I knew with the man he’s becoming.”

“That’s not all, though,” Draco stated carefully, eyeing him in concern.

“It’s not, but I’m not sure if it would make sense,” Harry admitted, leaning his head against Draco’s arm as they walked. "The magic here is so pure. It’s happy and healthy. I can feel it replenishing my reserves, and it feels divine. I think if I were trying to recover at Grimmauld's place, it would have the opposite effect and make me sicker if not outright try and kill me.”

Draco stopped walking, “You can feel the differences in magic?”

Warily Harry nodded.

Licking his lips, Draco looked away momentarily before remeeting his gaze, “Do you realize how rare that is?”

“I didn’t until you said something.” Harry admitted slowly and then asked, “Is that bad?”

“No,” Draco rushed to reassure him. “But I wonder if that is something specific to your lineage.”

Frowning, Harry shook his head helplessly, “I have no idea.”

Humming, Draco looked down at him before pulling on his hand to get them walking again, “May I ask what your family magics have told you about your ancestry?”

“Nothing,” Harry admitted honestly, “But that was by my request. It was overwhelming just finding out about Slytherin and then Peverall, though they have been relatively quiet. I know they’re there, but Salazar has been my primary instructor in a magical education as he deemed it the most critical that needed to be addressed.” He paused and then grinned, “Though he does have some serious issues with the overall education on offer at Hogwarts, he honestly can’t wait until I can claim my title openly because I’ll be able to wrestle control of Hogwarts from the headmaster, and ministry influences.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again: “You know, as exciting as that sounds, it also terrifies me, too, but only because I know what education you’re lacking.” He sighed and stopped at a closed door: “I wonder if you should request a proxy to take your seats in the Wizengamot until you finish school because I might never see you again.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head, “It can’t be that bad, Dragon.”

Snorting, Draco pushed open the door and waved Harry through, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

***

Two hours later, with a calming drought and three cups of hot chocolate mixed with coffee, Harry sat staring at the swirling lines, tracing them silently with his eyes, still trying to avoid his name and Draco’s smug expression.

He traced the line from Slytherin’s to Peverall and then down through the Warren line until it married into Evan’s line. He closed his eyes, dropping his head to the back of the chair, but he still saw the eleven males, the twelfth female, and then him. It felt like divine intervention, and he wasn’t sure how it made him feel.

Feeling a nudge from multiple sources, Harry opened his eyes again and looked at the tree that had centred on Peverall's line again. Tracing the second child revealed no results, so he moved to the third, tracing it down to mingle with the Rosenburg line before moving into the Gaunt. He shivered in revolution at the narrowed and inbreed tree that family represented before coming to the end of the line, his breath stuttering to a halt.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, December 31, 1926

A warmth wrapped around his magic, comforting and more calming than his previous attempts, and he listened to the nudge encouraging him to look again.

Frowning, Harry did, feeling the frustration swirling in his stomach that wasn’t allowed to grow, and breathed in, eyes flicking back through the whole tree once again, taking the time to read each name.

Finding the Malfoy name married to a bastard was shocking, but his curiosity made him follow it down until he came to Draco’s name, where he stopped again, noting immediately that the box was different—every box before had been wrapped in leaves, but his was plain. Jerking his gaze back to Tom’s, it wasn’t quite the same. Tom’s wasn’t just missing leaves; he was missing the box, so what did that mean?

Puzzled, Harry stared at it, lost in thought.

A startled gasp drew Harry’s attention towards the door. He saw Narcissa Malfoy standing there, uncertainty growing on her face as she glanced between her son and him. Then, to his astonishment, she curtsied, “Your Grace.”

Harry stood, then felt like he was floundering when he felt the impatient push from the Peverall line. He bowed automatically, trying not to frown, not wanting her to think it was directed at her. “Lady Malfoy.”

“Narcissa, please, and if that’s too informal, I would prefer Ms.Black.” The lady in question replied, rising to her feet.

“Then please call me Hadrian, Narcissa,” Harry replied, feeling a sense of rightness spread through him at the name and a surge of pleasure from his mate.

Glancing questionably at Draco, he raised a brow, watching the blush appear on his cheeks. "Let me guess, you prefer that too, don’t you?”

Draco shrugged, admitting with a small smile, “It’s more distinguished than plain and boring, Harry.”

Shaking his head, Harry turned back to Narcissa, “Would you like to join us for tea? We were discussing…” He trailed off and frowned at his mate when he realized that he hadn’t actually said anything out loud for quite some time and blurted, “I’m so sorry.”

Draco nodded to his mother, waving him off, “Hadrian’s been silently processing his lineage. I’ve been readjusting some of the things we had and rearranging others by priority.” Then he glanced at Harry, “Though he seems to have a failsafe built in because that was a perfect bow, which side was that?”

Flushing, Harry sank into his chair and buried his head in his hands, “Peverell. It’s from their line I inherited the title.”

A delicate cough lifted Harry’s head, and he met Narcissa's clear blue eyes, “If I may offer my advice?”

Harry nodded curiously as he leaned forward and refilled his mug—not a delicate little cup—with the hot chocolate mix. “Go ahead, advice is welcome.”

“I think you should stick with Hadrian,” she hesitated and licked her lips, appearing to choose her words carefully. "As Draco said, it’s more distinguished, but I believe it will draw attention away from the mythos surrounding the Boy Who Lived propaganda.”

“You think that propaganda?” Harry asked with interest.

“In a way, yes.” Narcissa admitted, contemplating her tea for a minute, “There is obviously no argument that whatever the Dark Lord did rebound off you, but who’s to say for sure that it was the killing curse?”

“The memories in my head?” Harry asked dryly and then winced when she flinched.

“What do you mean?” She asked cautiously.

Harry sighed, taking a sip of his mocha. “During my third year, the dementors affected me differently than any other student. I heard my parents' murder, and then he cast at me.” He shrugged helplessly at her soft oh. “I don’t disagree with losing the mythos; I hate it, but I don’t know how to counter something that is, in essence, technically true.”

“It’s possible that if you start using Hadrian instead of Harry, though, people will associate that with the Dukedom,” Draco offered seriously, “It’ll just mean a different type of pandering, but one that’s easier managed than The Boy Who Lived crap.”

Frowning, Harry looked back at the wall, “What about the Earlship? Does that ever get mentioned?”

“Eh, yes and no?” Draco responded, “At a formal event, technically, they could introduce you by your full title, but if you establish early that you only want the Dukedom acknowledged, then that’s what the sheep will follow.” He paused and frowned, “Actually, that might be the better way to go anyway; the mystery and legends surrounding the Peverell brothers would be enough to distract from the rest anyway. I don’t know if dropping the Earldom is needed unless you’re making the statement.”

“I agree, actually.” Narcissa spoke clearly, “If you establish yourself now, dropping the extra would be more impactful in the future.”

“What mysteries and legends?” Harry asked curiously. He heard the amused chuckle in his head before the presence vanished. Harry rolled his eyes as Draco sighed heavily, quill scratching on the parchment beside him.

“We can go over that later, love.” Draco responded dryly and then nodded at the wall, “Have you finished ruminating with the wall yet?”

Snorting, Harry shook his head, “No, there's something that’s bugging me, but I can’t quite figure it out.”

“And no one is helping?” Draco asked curiously.

Frowning at his mug, Harry ran his hand down his face, ignoring Narcissa's gasp. " They don’t talk to me; it’s more of an emotional response, like our bond.”

“Ah…” Draco nodded, “sounds frustrating, but that makes sense, actually,”

Harry chuckled, raising an amused brow at his soulmate, “Are you saying my emotions are frustrating, Dragon?”

Draco glared at him in annoyance, “You know it is.”

Still smiling, Harry stretched his hand across the space, dividing them and snagged his soulmate's hand, “It’s worth it.”

Face softening, Draco smiled, “Every second.”

A soft sniffle drew their attention, and when Harry turned to look at Narcissa, she had tears in her eyes and was wiping delicately at her nose. “You’re soulmates, too?”

Feeling Draco tense, Harry rubbed his thumb over the bond mark and nodded, “We are, in addition to being Veela mates.”

A second later, she flung out of her chair, launching herself at her son, sending his teacup flying and shattering against the wall as she wrapped him in a hug, tears dripping down her face as she whispered her apologies over and over.

Feeling the storm of conflicting emotions surge through his mate, Harry squeezed his wrist and nodded, letting go, as Draco embraced his mother and let himself go, crying quietly into her shoulder as her guilt and unrelenting approval seeped into the room.

Not wanting to intrude or leave, Harry turned away from mother and son, returning to the wall and the puzzle it presented.

***

Three days later, Harry woke with a start, unsure what had woken him, but breathing hard as he looked around the room, the shadows dancing along the floor.

Instinctively, he looked to his side, relaxing as Draco murmured, curling closer before stilling in his sleep.

Harry lay there for a long time, gazing at his soul mate, mind racing as he tried to figure out what had happened.

The pulse from the ring was comforting and reassuring, telling him there was nothing wrong with the wards in the manor. He stretched out a touch, checking on Grimmauld's place, and breathed out slowly, receiving the same reassurance back.

Slowly, he reached up, fingering the lightning bolt scar, and felt nothing, not even a flicker of pain, indicating Tom was attempting something. This wasn’t as relaxing as he expected, but it just filled him with a sense of anticipation that something would happen soon.

Sighing, Harry rolled to his back, scrubbing his with both hands as he heard the echo of a clock chime the hour. Six o’clock. What did it mean?

Groaning, he sat up, sliding from the bed soundlessly, annoyed that it seemed to be another question to add to his never-ending list.

Entering the bathroom, he pushed the door partially closed, using the toilet before turning on the shower as hot as he could stand. Shedding his clothing, he stepped inside under the spray, tilting his head back to let the water run down his face, trying to still the thoughts in his head. He knew from experience that fixating on the question or problem did nothing and made him run around in circles.

It was only thanks to the runes that the hot water was still just as hot when he got in because it took about an hour before he felt Draco stir, his annoyance at finding himself alone in the bed smoothing into fond exasperation.

A second later, a husky voice preceded the delicious press of a naked body against his back, “Happy birthday, love.”

Harry stilled, body thrumming with more than desire, but he turned to accept the chaste kiss, mind once morning turning inward.

Draco pulled back with a frown, making Harry flush, but Draco just shook his head, “Get out of the shower before you prune completely, Potter.”

Sighing, Harry complied, pressing a soft kiss to Draco’s lips before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

He was still towelling himself dry when the shower shut off, and he jerked his gaze to Draco, who performed a drying charm as he stepped out. “What’s bugging you, love?”

“I don’t know.” Harry replied lamely, “I just…” he trailed off with a shake of his head and then scrubbed his face, feeling the rough sensation of hair rubbing against his hand, “I need coffee.”

Draco’s eyes widened, but he didn’t comment as he walked into the closet and handed Harry a stack of clothing.

Harry dressed methodically, pushing through a rush of appreciation to his mate as he admired himself in the full-length mirror.

He would never have expected clothing to be anything other than functional, but Draco had a marvellous taste.

Even though they were initially his mates, the style fit Harry perfectly, and so did the colours. The dark forest green complimented his eyes even though they were two different shades.

Draco appeared in the mirror behind him, dressed similarly but wearing a silver shirt vest instead of the floor-length one, and Harry realized it was actually the outer robe. Draco was carrying a two-toned light cloak, which he placed over Harry’s shoulders. “It might seem like a bit much, but cooling charms are woven into the fabric.”

Harry met his eyes, fingering the material, and raised an eyebrow at the tingling in his fingers.

Draco flushed but shrugged defensively, “So there might also be some protection charms, but I thought it complimented what you’re already wearing.”

“Doesn’t it go with this already?” Harry asked in confusion, flicking his gaze over his reflection before meeting Draco’s silver eyes.

“No love, it’s part of your birthday present,” Draco whispered shyly, then glared at him, and the amusem*nt he knew was on his face. “You can get the rest of your gifts later, we have an appointment to keep.”

Swallowing at the reminder, Harry glanced over them in the mirror again before nodding and allowing Draco to lead him from the room, the hum of anticipation fluttering along his skin again.

After the customary greetings of which Narcissa was the only person present, Harry ate his breakfast automatically, not tasting or remembering anything he consumed.

The sudden burst of magical energy broke him from his thoughts, and he felt a brief flash of guilt for ignoring the two at the table, which was quickly pushed aside when his godfather strolled into the room, “Sirius!”

Jumping from the chair, he threw himself at his godfather, the sense of safety and love choking him and making him bury his head in the crock of Sirius’s shoulder, just catching Severus following him, a look of fond exasperation on his face, something Harry never expected to see.

Having Sirius there was the best birthday gift he could have received, but his worry about the plan made him pull back reluctantly and ask, “What are you doing here?”

A grin spread across Sirius’s face. "As if I would miss this,” he calmly held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. "Medea assured me it was safe, so I brought you an extra birthday present.”

Confused by the mention of Medea, Harry stepped back and looked expectantly at Sirius when he heard the soft whisper of his name. He jerked his head towards the door and saw Hermione standing there awkwardly, eyes wide, as she looked at the Malfoys sitting at the table.

Suddenly, though, her eyes filled with tears, and she ran across the room, flinging her arms around him. He returned the hug as she cried on his shoulder, pulling a few relieved tears to his own.

After a few minutes, she finally pulled away, blushing horribly as she accepted Sirius's handkerchief and wiped her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I wasn’t expecting that. I’ve just been so worried.”

Smiling gently, Harry took her hand and pulled her to the table. " It’s fine, ‘Minoe. According to Draco, I should be more worried about you.”

She tensed briefly before exhaling and shrugging her shoulders helplessly. “I should have guessed you’d know,” she said.

Stopping a foot from the table, Harry squeezed her hand briefly before gesturing, “Hermione, may I introduce you to Narcissa Black, Draco’s mother? Ms.Black, my best friend, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione bobbed an awkward curtesy as Narcissa inclined her head. “Ms.Granger, I understand from my cousin and my son that you’ve been having a difficult summer, but continue to assist our efforts in educating Hadrian.”

Hermione nodded sadly, “It’s been difficult, but not something I can’t handle. I’m willing to support Harry in any way possible.” She paused and licked her lips, “And please, call me Hermione. I hope we can all be friends.”

Harry smiled brightly at his friend when she finished speaking, and seeing the look of shock on both Malfoy- he stopped and that, and realized they were Black’s now, and wasn’t surprised when Narcissa recovered first and offered a genuine smile, “then Narcissa, please, it’s only fair.” She nodded to an empty chair, “would you like some tea before we leave?”

“I would love that. Sirius smuggled me some of the tea you had the house elves purchase, and it was simply divine.” Hermione replied, slipping onto the chair and inclining her head to Draco politely. "I want to thank you for assisting in Harry’s rescue,” she shifted in her chair and swallowed. "I would also like to start over as allies and potential friends. I don’t want to lose my friendship with Harry because we can’t get along.”

Draco’s mouth fell open in surprise. His eyes snapped to Harry’s and narrowed at the smug expression he knew he couldn’t wipe from his face.

Shrugging, Harry sat down beside his mate and kissed his cheek, “told you she’d beat you.”

Lips pursing, Draco rolled his eyes but stood, offering a half bow. “I will gladly accept the offer to start over, but I would prefer to skip a step and go straight into starting a friendship. Before that happens, I owe you a true apology, and I can only hope I prove through my actions now and in the future that I’ve changed from the person I was.”

It suddenly felt like the start of a thunderstorm, making Harry eye Hermione carefully, who was staring at his soulmate with an intensity that was startling. Then her eyes dropped to their hands, wrists exposed, and a flickering of longing spread across her face before she deflated. “You’ve already proved you’re a better person than you once were; I accept your apology and forgive you for any past mistakes, so nothing further needs to be done.”

A surprised flush crossed Draco’s face, his eyes glistening with tears. He choked out thank-you before excusing himself, but not before squeezing Harry’s hand as he left the room.

Thankfully, Sirius plopped into a chair, refusing to allow the room to grow awkward. He grinned happily as he snagged the teapot and filled three cups, “So, how’s it been going here?”

Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table. “I never realized how much I didn’t know until I started all of this.” He sighed and sat up, flashing Narcissa an apologetic grimace to her raised eyebrow. "It’s criminal how much Hogwarts doesn’t teach. Over half of this stuff I'm learning is useful. Considering how many highborns go there, it would probably prevent unintentional offence because a muggle-born didn’t understand the blunder.”

Sirius hummed and tilted his head, “I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right. Moony and Lily did alright, but mostly because James and I guided them.”

Severus snorted, “Not completely. I assisted her before school started, so she had a basic understanding.”

Sirius waved him off, “Oh, hush you, no one likes a braggart.”

Laughing, Severus shook his head, “Of course, and that’s definitely not you, right?”

Sirius gave him a beaming smile that screamed innocence, but Harry was stuck on what Severus had said and looked between the two men in shock before focusing on Severus. “You knew my mom, too?”

The table winced and froze as one, and Severus closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he met Harry’s gaze straight on. “I did. I had the honour of calling her my best friend when we were children.” He offered a small smile. "We grew up in the same town, though admittedly, she lived in a richer neighbourhood.”

“Oh.” Harry dropped his gaze, his stomach turning uneasily, and he was unsure how to react.

The gentle clearing of Severus’s throat drew his attention. Harry was faintly surprised by the uncomfortable but genuine expression of grief on the potion master’s face, “Maybe when we have time this summer, I can share some memories in the Pensive.”

“We both can.” Sirius offered, giving Severus a fond look that made the man scowl.

Looking between them again, Harry relaxed as he felt a cool hand caressing his neck and leaned back against Draco, whispering, “I’d like that.”

Severus nodded once and then turned his attention to Narcissa to ask a question. Draco slid back into his chair, joining the conversation, followed by the other two until only Harry was left. He didn’t feel like joining and was thankful no one forced him. The anticipation surged once again, drawing his attention as his thoughts turned inward.

***

The three adults and three teens sat down inside a private office, Narcissa placing the portkey provided by the bank on the desk of the…. Harry blinked in confusion, unsure what the creature was behind the desk.

He risked glancing at the rest, but only Hermione appeared as baffled as he was, which made him feel somewhat better.

“Ah, Lord Black, right on time, Ragnok is waiting in his office.” The creature rose to his feet and gestured towards the doors, the six falling into step behind him following silently, giving Harry no opportunity to question what they were.

After a few twists and turns, the party arrived at a set of double doors. The image etched into the stone offered a view of a large valley with a river winding through a stand of trees leading to the belly of a mountain.

It was one of the most beautiful pieces of art Harry had ever seen. He cast a slight mournful glance at the doors as they opened and stumbled to a halt, bumping into Sirius, who’d come to a stop in the middle of a large cavernous room with windows behind the desk on a dais offering the same view as the image on the door.

“Lord Black,” the deep tone drew Harry’s attention to the creature coming through a door to the left, leading a female dressed in a flowing black dress, tassels streaming behind her, and what appeared to be a dragon's tooth around her neck. The male, in comparison, was dressed simply, with leather pants and a silk shirt, open with the ties undone and a dagger sheathed at his side.

Sirius bowed formally, “Chieftain Ragnok, may your gold flourish and your enemies sleep too deep to fight the knife that cuts their throat.”

Ragnok’s eyebrow flew up at the greeting, a slow grin creeping across his face, “So mote it be,” he led the woman to a chair made of woven branches, letting her settle before he turned to greet the rest of them a little hint of what thought was approval in his eyes.

“Norcneer will scribe for us,” Ragnok stated, waving to a low table. He then turned to look straight at Harry, avidly interested in his clear blue eyes, but he turned to the female with a raised brow.

The woman smiled kindly, “We are the Dverger, young one; the ones at the counters are half-bloods but every bit as precious to us.” She held out a hand, beaconing Harry forward, and he sent a desperate look towards Sirius, who nodded once but said nothing.

Moving towards the female Dverger, Harry swallowed as Ragnok folded his arms and waited.

Once he stood before the woman, he kept his head lowered, accepting her hand as he bowed, knowing that Narcissa would be grading him on his performance. “My Lady, I’m honoured to meet you.”

The soft chuckle that left her lips made him flush, but he completed the action he’d been committed to and kissed the back of her hand, not missing the shocked silence coming from his party or the other Dverger. Rising from his bow, Harry met her gaze, surprised to find her eyes molten gold and a little smile playing on her lips, “Not as humbled as I am to meet you, Hadrian Peverell. My name is Beannacht, and I am our clan, Shaman.”

Feeling a flush form on his cheeks, Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I will admit to some ignorance. My education is lacking in many areas, but given my companions' silence, I think I should be humbled to meet you, my Lady.”

Her chuckle turned to a tinkling laugh, and she dipped her head, “Very prettily said, you may introduce me to your companions, Your Grace.”

Harry stilled at the title and closed his eyes in the sudden understanding of what powers a Shaman might have. The slight squeeze of his fingers made him open his eyes, and he found himself looking into an experienced and sympathetic abyss: “You might not have the title yet, young one, but you will, and when the time comes, ask those who never leave for help; you might be surprised at the outcome.”

Swallowing the irritation at the riddle, Harry smiled briefly, reacting on a whim by squeezing her hand, dipping his head to encourage her to rise, and then leading her across the room. “My Lady, may I introduce you to the Earl of Islington, Sirius Black, and his Consort, Severus Snape…” Harry frowned and stared at Severus before shaking his head, ignoring the tickle in the back of his mind.

Shaking his head, he apologized and continued, “Narcissa Black, Draco Black, my soulmate, and my best friend, Hermione Granger.” He inhaled silently, “Friends, this is Beannacht, the clan Shaman.”

The adult's reaction was instant, the two men offering deep formal bows, while Narcissa courtesy, Draco bowing a second behind, leaving Hermione to awkwardly copy Narcissa, her efforts earning her a nod of respect at the effort.

Beannacht turned to Ragnok and held out a hand, “Husband?”

Ragnok crossed the room, surveying her with an exasperated expression but readily accepting her hand, “My love?”

“I introduce you to the Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrain Cadmus James Peverell, Earl of Exmoor, Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, and our next patron.” Even though the smile never left her face, her tone changed, taking on a commanding air that Harry expected could compel hundreds of men to do her bidding, yet that wasn’t all; it was the promise laced in the words and absolute conviction that shook him and left him stunned. “Your Grace, my husband, and our Chiefton Ragnok.”

Harry automatically bowed, “Chiefton Ragnok, it is an honour. May your gold ever flourish, and your enemies be too slow to stop the swing.”

“So mote it be, Your Grace.” Rangok rumbled, bowing in return, increasing the stunned silence, then gestured towards a table that lowered from the ceiling, enough chairs appearing around it as it settled, “Let's get started.”

As everyone gathered around the table choosing chairs, Draco and Hermione slid in beside him, faces filled with awe, proving that Draco had given Hermione a hushed history lesson, explaining the significance of what had happened. It made Harry sigh in resignation, wondering if he should be annoyed they understood or relieved at his future lecture.

Ragnok waited until his wife sat before nodding to the rest, sinking into his chair, “Norcneer, are you ready?”

“I am, Sir.” The Dverger bustled from the corner carrying a pillow, an athame of pure obsidian, and a rolled-up parchment, which he arranged carefully in front of Harry, rolling the scroll out to show it was blank. “If his Grace could prick his thumb and press it to the paper, it will summon the rings you’re entitled to.”

Harry straightened in his surprisingly comfortable chair and took a deep breath before picking up the athame, pricking his left thumb, and pressing it to the paper. The paper turned gold instantly, and a tray holding three rings appeared on the suddenly smoking paper.

“There is no right way to put them on,” Ragnok said, leaning forward on his elbows. Tension ran through his shoulders, picked up and echoed by everyone else, but Harry still hesitated, his mind turning inward once again as he stared at the three rings.

He picked up the simple silver band and slipped it on his pinky, the ring automatically sizing to fit. When nothing happened, he picked up the obsidian band, slipping it on quickly. He grabbed the third one, a thicker band etched with snakes, and slid it on the ring finger of his right hand next to the heir ring, the anticipation he’d been feeling all morning fading away to a calm that filled him completely.

When an achingly familiar voice spoke in his head, the image of a remarkably young man appeared, “Ah, hello, grandson, it’s been many, many years since someone of the blood successfully claimed my ring. We’ve had pretenders and panders, but you, having inherited the magic already, it is fitting you be the first to wear my ring. A boon for you, before your oath, demand retribution from the one named Tom Riddle, distant cousin he is, but your claim is righteous; let magic judge and render judgment and never lose hope. Trust in the cycles of life; all things have their time, and all things come full circle.”

As Slytherin’s voice faded, another person appeared, dressed in humble hand-spun clothing, sword and armour at the ready, the voice old and tired, “We stand, we fight, we defend, it was our duty passed down from generation to generation, but we forgot how, we forgot why, it is now past time to remember. Enemies stand on multiple fronts, but the preservation of Avalon is paramount; trust in yourself and trust in your bond; they will never let you falter. We are all born in the shadow of Avalon, and to Avalon, we must all return.”

As soon as that voice faded, a gravelly female voice spoke, overlapped with a gruff male, voice laced with amusem*nt at his start of surprise, “It was hidden and forgotten, the start of our line carried the shame the next generation imposed, but now humbled we are, apologizes we offer, it is only through the new lord that we learn that we’re not always right. In adopting you, he has set us on a path of recovery and redemption, we offer our strength in the battle to come…. We look forward to serving and protecting when your time comes. Magic is not something we possess; it is something we are.”

Jerking with a start, Harry’s eyes snapped open, and then, without thought, rose to his feet, the echoes of his ancestors still filling his mind, and spoke into the silence, voice calm and steady, “I, The Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, by birth and blood, first in line, challenge those in the blood and then claim the rights of magic and exact a price for those of my shared blood who have wronged me and mine, judge and demand restitution as you will, and forgive those who love our family - both living and deceased. In exchange, I vow on my life and magic to uphold the ancient traditions of Hecate, as taught by Merlin. I pledge we Seek not to control but to flow with the natural rhythms of life in the names of my ancestors in the houses of Slytherin, Peverell, Potter and Black.”

He stood there wavering on his feet, feeling the coil of his magic expand rapidly, a shield erupting between him and those sitting around the table, his body going ridged before it erupted in pain, and a scream was pulled from his throat, along with a black enraged shadow emerging from his head crowding around him. The twin echoes of thumps hitting the table were a dim and distant worry, as shadows emerged from nowhere, shimmering in righteous fury, as they wrapped around the wraith that felt terrifying familiar and disappeared, pulling it with them, leaving behind the reassurance that his plea had been heeded, and judgement had been met.

Collapsing like a puppet with its string cut, he could already envision his head cracking off the table, but hands grabbed him, lowering him to his chair, the voices overlapping in their worry and making no sense and feeling like shards of glass against his already pounding head, making him whimper.

Cool fingers touched his temple lightly, the heady, almost addicting scent of foreign magic spreading throughout his body, the apology and pride in his actions so thick he could taste it. It took a few minutes, and another soft hush was directed to the room at large. Slowly, the pain in his head disappeared, and his stomach settled. When he opened his eyes, he met gold eyes filled with guilt as she helped him sit.

Moving carefully, Harry leaned against the back of the chair and reached for the ring that was sitting on the tray, the wisp of smoke disappearing, and slipped it onto his pinky, adding it to the three already there, the trio of voices unsurprising as they overlapped in glee, “thank-you for freeing us, we never expected to see it, though we dreamt of it for so long, you have the cloak and ring, all you need is the wand, Master of Death. Our duty and honour is to serve the Lady in any way she demands. We are not harbingers of doom, but the balance, for in life there is death, and no creature should circumvent that unless specially chosen.”

Heart clenching at the title, magic tingled along his skin, encompassing the rings before they rippled, merging into one that sat on pinky, and he gazed at it in amazement. A crescent rainbow, vivid and clear against the obsidian, stretched across a lake, the pommel of a sword with an unrecognizable symbol stretched through the middle of the rainbow, the tip touching the lake, with a snake wrapped around the blade, resting its head on the curve of the handle. Around the coat of arms, words appeared, “Those we love never truly leave us,” and he felt tears burn his eyes as he rubbed a thumb over them, unable to argue that undeniable truth as he felt approval from his family. The one thing he’d carved as a child and never thought he'd get.

It was enough to make the tears fall, and he buried his head in his arms and wept.

***

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was in a small room he didn’t recognize, with Draco wrapped around him. Draco whispered in a mixture of English and French, and Harry couldn’t help the groan escape him: " Please don’t tell me I need to learn French on top of everything else.”

His only response was a watery chuckle as Draco leveraged over him, rolling him to his back. " There are spells that can teach you the language, love.”

With a relieved breath, Harry reached up a hand and brushed the tear from Draco’s cheek, “You alright?”

“You stupid self-sacrificing idiot, am I already?” Draco scowled. I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

Harry paused, memories rushing in, and he caressed the ring. The etching was sharp and clear, allowing him to feel every line like it was a carving. “I’m—I think I’m fine. Whatever Beannacht did repaired everything.”

Draco looked at him doubtfully but sat up, “Well, she brought in a potion and said you should drink it; it’ll remove any lingering soreness, just in case.”

Moving carefully to avoid hitting his mate, Harry swung his legs over the bed and accepted the goblet. Draco passed him, recoiling at the smell, and couldn’t stop the whine. “I still don’t understand why potions can’t smell appetizing.”

“Drink it, Hadrian,” Draco ordered, watching him with a raised brow as Harry did what he was told.

Shuddering as he finished, Harry handed the goblet back and glanced around the small room again, “Where are we?”

“My quiet room, for when I’m overcome with a vision,” Beannacht stated from the door. How are you feeling, your grace?”

“Fine, but please, call me Hadrian.” He replied, standing carefully and holding a hand to assist Draco—not that his mate needed it, but Harry did, wanting the contact.

The shaman regarded him quizzically before nodding, “Very well, Hadrian, if you want, you can continue your meeting with Ragnok, or we can have it rescheduled to another day.”

“I…” Harry glanced at his mate, who had a blank expression, his emotions locked behind tight shields. “Can you explain what happened during my claim? Because I don’t think what happened was normal.”

Expelling a deep breath, the shaman nodded, “I can,”

“Then let us continue. If that is acceptable?” Harry stated, lacing his hand through Draco’s as he followed the Shamen, who turned without a word.

In Ragnok's office, Sirius reached him first, pulling him into a quick hug before holding him back to expect him. “Everything seems to happen to you, and I won’t ask how you're feeling, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Smiling at his godfather, Harry held out an arm, pulling Hermione into a one-armed hug as she pressed a tear-stained face against his chest. “I think I’m better than alright. It was intense but freeing at the same time.”

Sirius snorted, “I can understand that, but you claimed four-”

“No, I only claimed the Potter family magic; I already had the other three. I just assumed the titles, which is a different magic.” Harry explained, then rubbed his head, admitting, “I’m not sure I can explain it fully or properly.”

“Do you know what the black thing was?” Hermione asked cautiously, eyeing the adults who looked uneasy, “They seem to have an idea but are refusing to say.”

“No, but Beannacht said she could explain,” Harry offered, shuffling them towards the table where Ragnok and the two other adults sat, tea in hand. Narcissa was pale and worried, and Severus was gray, fear and awe in his eyes.

Once settled at the table, he was served and watched as the shaman stood next to her husband, face serious, “When Hadrian spoke his oath, he did it in a way that called Hecate’s attention, first demanding justice, but leaving that justice up to her, and then offering his service in exchange. She answered in a way I don’t think anyone could have predicted. I certainly didn’t see it.” The shaman lifted her head, gold eyes roaming his face, “Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?”

The adults hissed as one, and Draco paled. Harry shook his head, seeing Hermione echo his movement; the shaman nodded though like she expected the response and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “It’s a dark, forbidden magic, in which a person splits their soul, hiding the bits in an object, to achieve immortality.”

Hiding his trembling hand under the table, Harry drew in a breath, “Alright, what-what does that have to do….” He trailed off and closed his eyes, remembering the wraith that had felt familiar, “Tom Riddle did that, didn’t he?”

The shaman nodded, “He did. I couldn’t say how many times, but there were at least three.”

Swallowing, Harry glanced at the ornate amulet on the table, “The amulet, ring and me….”

“That’s correct,” The Dverger leaned into her husband, her voice uncharacteristically sombre compared to earlier. The ripples of your claim have already stretched across Great Britain. The punishment of the wizard, formerly known as Tom Riddle, is done. Your war is over.”

“What do you mean over?” Hermione asked cautiously, hope growing on her face.

The shaman flicked an eye towards Severus, who swallowed, “Would you care to wager a guess, Consort Black?”

Severus hesitated before pulling the sleeve of his robe up his arm, the dark mark already fading. "Whatever happened removed the magic embedded into the mark. It was surprisingly painless, though I suspect from Hadrian’s warning I have him to thank for that.”

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable, “I wasn’t fully conscious of what I was saying, so your thanks are best left to those who guided me.”

“Maybe,” Severus allowed, “but you are the only reason it was possible.”

Harry dropped his head, stomach twisting unpleasantly, but didn’t comment.

“So he’s dead?” Draco asked when the silence grew.

“No, I don’t think so,” Beannacht admitted softly, “But he’s been-”

“He’s a squib.” Harry winced as he cut her off but then paled at what he said, “That was the price magic demanded; it will also search out and punish those who have wronged my house.”

“Are you saying marked Death Eaters are going to be punished?” Sirius asked carefully.

Harry licked his lips, then shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think anyone does.” Beannacht said carefully, “This is a route no witch or wizard has ever taken, no offence meant, but most of your kind forget their gift comes from a higher power. They would rather deal with those they deem guilty, believing it their divine right as the wronged party.”

“I think until we know the full extent of what has happened outside these walls, it might be better to delay the announcement of your claim, Hadrian,” Ragnok said slowly as if he didn’t want to cause offence.

“I agree,” Harry responded instantly, making the Dverger relax. I wish to discuss a few other things, but I imagine Hermione and Sirius had best return to Grimmauld Place. Before that, I would like to adopt Hermoine as a sibling.”

“You don’t need to do that, Harry,” Hermione argued, flushing.

“I do,” he responded. It’s common knowledge that you’re my best friend. If people seek revenge, I don’t think they’ll target me immediately, but they will go for those I love.”

“I’m safe at Grimmauld Place, though.” Hermione protested.

Harry glared, “So safe that you’re being obliviated to comply with the status quo? What if Dumbledore gets involved?” He shook his head, “No, you need the extra protection my blood can provide.” He paused and looked at Draco before glancing back at Hermione, grinning, “It’ll also give you a chance to rub some of the Slytherin's nose into the fact they’d have to address you as Lady Hermione.”

Draco sputtered, “You realize you’re technically insulting yourself there. You claimed his magic.”

“Eh, semantics, no one needs to know that. Slytherin didn’t have a title,” Harry waved him off and looked pleadingly at Hermione, “Please let me do this; you’re one of my oldest friends and the only one who’s never turned on me, sticking by me and trusting me without verifiable proof. I love you as a sister, and while I imagine my parents would have had more children if they survived, it wouldn't change the fact I’d still want you as my sister.”

“You stupid prat, you have got to stop making me cry.” Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears, but she jerked her head in a shaky nod, “I’m an only sibling too, so I understand how you feel, and I return it. You’d still be my brother with or without an adoption, though.”

Sitting up, Harry looked around the room, “What do we need to do?”

Beannacht perked up, “Oh, it’s ridiculously straightforward, and I’d be honoured to bind it if you wish?”

Glancing at Sirius, when Hermione shrugged, his godfather offered him a smile, “Dverger magic would magic it practically unbreakable.”

“Alright.” Harry agreed and turned to the shaman, who beaconed them to the middle of the room.

“Kneel on the floor facing each other,” She instructed, pulling off the dragon’s tooth waiting while they complied, “The incantation is simple, Hadrian, Hanc ego veneficam in fratrem accipio .”

Harry repeated it a few times, listening carefully when Beannacht corrected his pronunciation, not even bothering to hide his amusem*nt at Hermione’s pained expression.

When the Shamen declared him proficient, she handed the athame to them. “Slice your palms and then clasp them together.” When they complied, she wrapped the braided leather around their hands, holding the tooth around their hands, letting the tooth swing free. She placed her hands over theirs and gave Harry a firm nod.

Inhaling, Harry let it out carefully and spoke, voice taking on an echoing quality as magic infused with each word, “ Hanc ego veneficam in fratrem accipio. (I take this witch as my sibling.)” The magic rushed around the room, wrapping the two of them in a golden glow that bled into the crevice of their clasped hands, the blood disappearing with a flash of light.

When they released each other, the wound was sealed, and a delicate chain and an amulet sat around Hermione's neck, matching the image from his ring.

A short time later, Harry was saying goodbye, hugging Sirius and Hermione, and shaking Severus' hand, who decided it would be best if he was seen at Hogwarts for the remainder of the day.

When he stepped back, he felt Draco slide an arm around his waist and watched the three disappear, the portkey taking them back to Black Manor so they could go their separate ways.

Once it was Narcissa, Draco and himself, Ragnok turned to him, “What else can the Dverger do for you today, Hadrian?”

“I’d like to visit the Peverell and Potter Vaults and speak to my account manager. I imagine the only accounts still activated at this point would be the Potters, but I will need a full accounting and a detailed profile of the investments.” He paused and added, “I don’t expect that all today, but I would like to have it by the end of the week, with an appointment booked for the following one, if possible.”

“We are at your disposal, your grace.” Ragnok inclined his head, “Unfortunately, the Potter account manager passed away, so it may take some time pulling the records requested, but,” he waved a jewelled hand towards Norcneer, “My oldest son if it’s not to forward of me-”

Harry held up a hand, “It is not forward, Chieftain. It is an honour for my house that you would trust us with your son.” He frowned, “though I am curious, why did your wife call me the next Patron? What does that mean?”

“In recent times, it was mostly a symbolic position, awarded by wizards to make it seem like they were giving us something, but in ancient times, the position had power.” Ragnok cleared his throat, “Once you can openly claim your titles, and if you wish to accept, you will be the first wizard named a patron by the Dverger in seven hundred years. There is a soul orb that will teach you what you need to know, our laws and customs, past treaties, but it would enable you to become our voice in the wizarding world.”

Harry sighed at another responsibility waiting to be picked up and hesitated, “May I speak freely?”

“Of course,” The Chieftain replied easily.

“Would there be a time limit on the offer?” Harry shrugged with a little smile. "I don’t want to reject the offer outright, but I can’t accept without research, and given the subject list I’m already under….” He trailed off with an apologetic grimace, but Ragnok waved him off with a chuckle.

“We have time, Your Grace. Was there anything else you wished to discuss today?”

Shifting in his seat, Harry nodded, “Would it be possible to pull the financial records for Hogwarts as a Founders Heir without Dumbledore knowing?”

Ragnok opened his mouth and closed it, looking stymied. “I don’t actually know.” He admitted honestly, “It’s not something Gringotts has had to worry about in centuries. Let me look into it, and I will let you know.”

“That is more than fair. Thank you for your time,” Harry stated as he rose, “We’ll leave you to dream of your vanquished enemies and the gold they stole back in the rightful hands. Norcneer, if we could have an escort to my vaults, that would be appreciated.”

The Dverger bowed and ushered them towards the door, “Of course, your grace, I’ll see to it personally.”

***

“Draco,

I need help, I’ve been staying with Daphne and her family for the last 3 weeks, and surprisingly, my dad let me go; though he did give instructions, it would be a boon if I could draw the interest of the Greenglass family before allowing it.

Anyway, five days ago, something strange happened. Shortly after ten in the morning, I felt a jolt like a shock running through my core, and I spent most of four days lying in bed. Daphne was kind and understanding, even having her mother come to check on me, but nothing was found, though the feeling persisted.

Yesterday, I received a letter from my father, who ordered me home by the end of the week and said it was time to fulfill my obligations to the family.

I woke up this morning to a searing pain in my chest and the knowledge my father was dead.

I just don’t know how, and I’m terrified. I can’t stay here. The Greenglasses have been wonderful hosts, but I can see they’ve been unnerved by the last week, and I can’t go home—none of the house elves are responding, and Willa can’t pass the wards either, so I’m at an impasse.

I set up a meeting at the bank; hopefully, they’ll understand what is happening. My appointment is at 2 this afternoon, and I desperately pray you can be there.

Pansy

Draco set the letter down, ran a hand through his hair, lowered his hand as his new ring caught in his strands, and sighed. How smoothly the last few days had passed had almost been anticlimactic. Nothing in the Prophet or the Times had any news regarding Harry’s new titles or repercussions due to his claiming of his title.

Neither Sirius nor Severus had been back to the manor, or at least if they had, Draco hadn’t seen them. It has just been him, Harry, his mother, and all three of them trying to create a working relationship and teach Harry all that he needed to know.

They spent mornings in the solar, practicing The Art Of Being A Gentleman , as Harry had taken to calling it while groaning in exasperation. Harry’s claim of having two left feet was only matched by his atrocious penmanship, and Draco still wasn’t sure which was worse; his soulmate had no sense of movement.

Today, given the early hour, something Draco wasn’t personally used to, it was just the two of them in the breakfast room, and while it was odd being the only two, it was lovely.

The mundane routine already felt familiar. The paper Harry was hiding behind as he read shifted as his soulmate set it down, his face curiously blank. This expression made Draco go on the defensive and ask cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

A frown appeared on Harry’s brow. His eyes dropped to the page the paper was open on, and a flush hit his cheeks. He lifted a smaller magazine and handed it over.

Draco blinked in confusion, sticking his finger between the pages to check the cover and burst out laughing.

“Witch Weekly?”

“Oh, leave me alone. The articles advertised on the front intrigued me,” Harry defended himself with a sniff as he picked up his mug.

“But it’s a gossip magazine,” Draco said with a chuckle, ignoring the glare forming on his soulmate's face.

“Your mother said not to dismiss a piece of literature based on such crass reasoning. No matter the gossip, it is based on some truth,” Harry replied with an eye roll, focusing on the letter still in Draco’s hand. “Everything alright with your post?”

Draco’s hand clenched reflectively around the parchment. The instant denial fought to break free and was only prevented by the flash of hurt quickly concealed in Harry’s eyes.

Shamed at the conflicting emotions of hurting his mate and protecting Pansy, Draco dropped his eyes to the letter and smoothed it out with his thumb, “It’s from Pansy. She asked to meet at the bank.”

Having Harry’s hand settle on top of his made Draco flush, blurting, “Her father’s dead.”

Harry froze, fingers tightening instantly as he drew in a sucking breath. “I assume her father was a somewhat healthy male around the same age as our parents with no known history of sickness?”

Draco frowned at the wording, lifting his head to agree: " That’s—yeah, from what I know, why?”

Harry opened his mouth, seemed to think better, nodded to the magazine, and reached across the table to flip it open again.

Glancing at his soulmate in confusion, Draco looked at the page, brow furrowing at the headline.

“Magically Malady, or much more sinister plot?

We’re only four days into August, but in that time, four distinguished and respected members of our society have acted out in a bizarre, often baffling, and somewhat disturbing manner, with no rhyme or reason for their behaviour.

First was John Dawlish, an Auror of nine years, who was seen raving, alternating between crying and begging for mercy and screaming incoherently in the middle of his Saturday shopping with his wife, who quickly apparated then away. Lord Tobias Savage, another ministry Auror of 15 years, was addressing the Wizengamot and proposing a somewhat controversial bill (see page 19 for details). He fell into a fit, clawing at his arm and seizing. The session ended, and he was taken to St.Mungo’s for assessment, though no statement has been provided. Vincent Crabb Senior was seen being escorted from the same session by a shifty-eyed and terrified Pius Thicknesse, both clawing at their arms, but only Crabbe was crying inconsolably. Lastly, we have heard that the Bulstrode family was enjoying a summer holiday when Gavin Bulstrode was seen suffering the same sort of Malady. Still, no rescue was available for the Patriot of the family; he was declared deceased upon Auror's arrival, and the family requested privacy to deal with the mourning.

Now, most might question why this establishment is concerned with the afflictions of at least two suspected Death Eaters during the last war, though they had been found innocent of the charges. With the re-emergence of He Who Must Not Be Named, most will probably claim they’re being punished by that same being, but what if I were to inform you, dear reader, that it is not just those men?

It has come to my attention that of the 14 people arrested at the Ministry in June, 3 of them have died in the last four days, and 5 more were suffering the same sort of Malady. Both LeStrange brothers died within hours of each other, while Peter Pettigrew was also found dead in his cell; of the five in St.Mungo’s, we’ve been unable to confirm who is affected and have received no official response to our inquiry that they are in fact there. However, I managed to speak with one person who wished to remain anonymous, and their response was this: “We have no official cause for the issues the men are undergoing, and make no mistake, they are suffering. Whether it is a punishment devised on the Minstery’s orders or through He Who Must Not Be Named, we don’t know. None of the symptoms have a rhyme of reasons, and no two people exhibit the same though there is a clear correlation between the affected.”

We will keep you, gentle reader, informed to the best of our ability, as the other accredited papers refused to report on the news. So look for our next instalment, and we hope to provide an update.”

Draco set the magazine down and swallowed hard, meeting Harry’s eyes. He silently handed Pansy's letter, watching his soulmate read it and set it aside, his brow furrowed as if thinking hard.

Draco waited, taking a sip of tea before closing the magazine, skimming the articles before opening to the first page, scanning the table of contents, and some internal tugging, making him flip to the last section.

At the head of the page was Title Announcement, and his heart sank in dread.

“We have just become aware that a title we thought long extinct due to no direct descendants was claimed officially through the bank. It appears that everyone has forgotten the magic involved in ancient titles of this magnitude, and it will be gratifying when the Daily Prophet and the Times catch up to their own publications and have to look back at our article to realize we caught and released the news before they did.

Appearing in the Paper on August 1, 1996, was the automatic congratulations and confirmation on claiming the Duke of Warwick title; the last known person to hold the title was Lord Oliver Cadmus Peverell, who passed away in 957AD. Lord Oliver Cadmus was the oldest son of Cadmus Peverell and his wife, Stella Gardiner, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin’s only legitimate son. Stella was from the fourth generation of grandchildren and is rumoured - in the murmuring of ghosts who remember the time - to be the last grandchild held by Salazar before his death. Attempting to dive into Lord Cadmus’s line, we traced it for four generations before his last descendant disappeared; no known reason has been listed for that disappearance, though it is assumed they may have been a squib who sought refuge in the muggle world. A request for acknowledgement has been left unanswered by the bank, so we are all left to wait on who the new mysterious Duke of Warwick is. Still, I can assure you, all of us here at Witch Weekly are waiting with bated breath because I, for one, am invested in their appearance, just as I imagine many young witches of this day will be. The fight for the Duke’s hand will be vastly amusing, and I can’t wait to see the techniques employed to catch them.”

“Merlin,“ Draco breathed, eyes slamming into Harry’s, who gazed back in confusion.

Draco handed the magazine back wordlessly and averted his gaze as Harry took it, still frowning.

A letter appeared in the tray, set off next to the buffet table, and Draco rose to his feet, hesitating as he brushed his hand along Harry’s shoulders. His soulmate tossed the magazine down in disgust, glaring at it furiously.

Debating for half a second, Draco snagged the letter and brought it back, noting the seal and handed it to Harry, “it’s from Nrocneer.”

Grinding his teeth furiously, Harry took the paper and unrolled it, eyebrows rising to his hairline. His shoulders slumped as he handed it over.

“Duke Warwick,

It has come to the bank's attention that notice of your title being claimed hit the papers the day after. It is something we unfortunately forgot was something that could happen based on the age of the title. Thankfully, the magic involved releases nothing about the current head. It would be complicated to trace, given your squib ancestors, though I won’t say it is impossible. I think it wise to meet, given the other disturbing things being reported, as it may pertain to the claiming as well, I won’t presume to set a time, so if you’re able to arrive today, I will make the time to see you.

Norcneer son of Ragnok,

P.S The Potter account books note that the solicitors employed by your family for centuries handed in their resignation shortly before your parents' death. I point out this irregularity because they still get the same quarterly fee as if the resignation never happened. I have noted it here, and we can discuss options moving forward, though I suggest looking at a different firm.

“Wow…”

It was all Draco could think of to say. He glanced at his soulmate, who was frowning, keeping his eyes away.

“Will your mother accompany us to the bank? Or should I send word to Sirius?” Harry finally asked, glancing at the papers scattered amongst the table.

Draco hesitated, “Mother might, but I wonder if it might be better to take Uncle Severus if Sirius can’t.”

Groaning, Harry scrubbed his face and admitted, “I’d prefer Sirius.”

Licking his lips, Draco sighed, “I understand that, but you can trust Uncle Severus, too. They are married.”

“It’s not that,” Harry replied, reaching for the coffee pot, his touch activating the stasis to heat it instantly. “I’ve spent five years with him and the perception he hated me, and I’ve yet to hear any explanation from either of them for why they hid this knowledge from me. Why has he spent five years bullying me when he had to know I was Sirius’s heir, his next lord? Why did they make out like they hated each other when they met in our third year? Same with the end of fourth, it’s like this barely concealed contempt, and I don’t understand it.”

Draco frowned in confusion, “what do you mean? Isn’t their marriage new?” Draco pulled back at Harry's flat look as he shook his head.

“No, apparently, they’ve been married since I was a year old.” Harry bit his lip. "I know they must keep this illusion for the others, but why couldn’t they be honest with me?”

Draco had no reply and didn’t try to offer one as Harry ran a hand, dishevelling his hair even more. It was somewhat unfair how it made his soulmate even more attractive, the settling of the titles fully jump-starting his transition from teen to young adult.

In the three weeks Harry had been here, his hair had grown in length, brushing his shoulders now, the weight of it making it no longer resemble a bird's nest, but the curl that was now evident still made it messy. He had a shadow of growth on his chin and cheeks, and it didn’t seem to matter how much Harry attempted to shave; it had grown back by the end of the day. Draco thought somewhat jealously that the potion regimen he was under hadn’t helped lower his attractiveness either, already envisioning how others would perceive his soulmate and hated the possessiveness that burned in his gut. Harry had grown two inches and had filled out his weight, no longer appearing to look like a famine curse victim. Yeah, it was utterly unfair; if people hadn’t wanted him before the titles, or because he was The Boy Who Lived, they’d want him just because he was gorgeous.

“Hey, what’s got you all twisted inside?” Harry’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and Draco felt a blush climb his cheeks. "You’re just really…” he trailed off and shrugged helplessly, “Witches and wizards are going to be all over you once your titles are released.”

Startled, Harry raised an eyebrow and then smirked, “Wasn’t it you who warned me about the possessive jealousy?”

Narrowing his eyes at his mate's obvious amusem*nt, Draco sniffed, turning his attention to his tea, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

An amused snort made the flush increase, body tensing and then melting at the same time as a warm hand enveloped his cheek, tilting his head up, “I don’t care how many throw themselves at my feet or want in my bed, you’re the only one I’m looking at and taking home.”

Heat sizzled down Draco's spine at the intensity of Harry’s green eyes and shifted to lean closer, the coil of pleasure growing at the darkening of Harry’s eyes.

It was only through an innate sense of familiarity that he heard his mother's soft footsteps on the stairs. He pulled back, offering an apologetic look with his head tilted to the door, which prevented the protest formed in Harry’s mouth from leaving. His hand squeezed once before reaching for the newspapers and pulling his notebook towards him. He picked up the self-inking quill and flipped to the business section.

“You thought the American company might be the better investment, but what about the one from Japan? They might be a smaller company and relatively new, but they’ve had steadily more growth in two years than the American one has in ten years, better sales, a more comprehensive range of products-“

“How can a broom company have a wider range of products?” Draco asked in complete bewilderment, pulling the page of handwritten notes towards him, trying not to shudder at the horror of Harry’s handwriting.

Harry rolled his eyes and tapped the page, “they’re experimenting with different styles of brooms depending on what they’re being used for, quidditch, racing, work, leisure, one or two people, then they have different ratings going from level one for non-experienced, to level five for experienced. Then they included a line for different age groups, with the same level ratings.”

Humming noncommittally, Draco pursued the numbers Harry had broken down, a little surprised at the detail. “Ask Nrocneer for a portfolio breakdown. They’d also be able to let you know if there are any international restrictions.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of that,” Harry replied, frowning a little at the numbers, only looking up when Narcissa swept into the room, smiling at them.

“Good morning, boys,”

“Good morning,” they echoed together, Draco rolling his eyes as Harry sprang to his feet and pulled out his mother's chair, giving him a broad smile of approval.

“Suck up.” He muttered when his soulmate sat back down and huffed when Harry grinned.

“What about wand research?” After a minute of silence, Draco added, “Is that something that can be invested in?”

“Maybe, but it’s heavily restricted. It will have to be a project after Riddle and Dumbledore are disposed of.” Harry replied, making a note in the book, “What should I do about the majority of shares in Zonko’s?”

“Ah….” Draco trailed off, “Is there a problem with owning them?”

Shrugging, Harry dropped his gaze. " Not necessarily, but it feels like a conflict of interest when I helped front the start-up costs to the Weasley twins business.”

“Would the twins be interested in purchasing it?” Draco asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, “And I’m not sure I would suggest they do. Zonko’s has had no new projects on the shelves in ten years, and hours of operations have dipped by 15% in the last two, but it hasn’t claimed any sort of financial hit in that time frame, even though the sales have stayed the same with no major markups to the products.”

“Do you think they’re scamming you?” Draco asked curiously and then frowned at his soulmate's perplexed expression.

Harry sighed bitterly, “Well, I hadn’t until you said that, but I wouldn’t even know where to start that investigation.”

“Take Norcneer up on finding a new law firm,” Draco advised, glancing at the clock. We should head to the library and finish up the charms essay.”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry agreed, closing the book and straightening the papers, glancing at Narcissa as he did, “Would you be able to accompany us to the bank this afternoon?”

“Of course, is something the matter?” She asked in concern, lowering her fork.

“Not exactly. Nrocneer has some concerns to address, but we’re mostly going so Draco can accompany Pansy,” Harry explained, handing her the two newspapers, knowing she enjoyed reading both in the morning.

Accepting the bundle with a frown, she glanced between them, “What’s happened with Pansy?”

“She says her father has died,” Draco responded softly, accepting the hand Harry held out to him, and nodded to the magazine, “there’s an article in the middle that gives the idea it might be part of the repercussions when Harry claimed his title, which was also announced at the end, though they have no clue who claimed the title, just that it was claimed.” He sighed and rose to his feet pulling Harry with him, “it’s another reason we need to go to the bank, the Dverger apologized for the lack of foresight around the announcements of ancient titles.”

“What time do we need to be at the bank?” Narcissa asked, setting the paper aside and settling the magazine before her.

“Nrocneer didn’t give me a time; he just said he’d make it when I arrived, but Pansy’s appointment is at 2,” Harry offered, rising to stand beside Draco.

“Alright, you two go finish your homework. I’m going to contact Severus so he can pass a message to Sirius,” she rubbed her brow. "I know they’re playing a part, but they should be here. I don’t feel confident in it being just myself when we go to view your estates, Hadrian.”

Harry nodded in agreement, “I agree, but I think it might be best for them to wait until after the next meeting, which is supposed to be tomorrow.”

Narcissa frowned in disagreement but didn’t stop them from leaving, and Draco quickly pulled his soulmate from the room before his mother could change her mind.

***

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

An hour later, Draco jerked his head at the sound of Weasley’s voice echoing in the room.

“what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Hmmm?” Hermione glanced up from the book in her lap, “pardon me?”

Ron glared at her, “You’re supposed to be helping Ginny and I clean, remember?”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” Hermione replied, dropping her eyes to the book. "I can’t afford to soil my clothing before returning home, so your mother told me to hide here.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Ron demanded.

A long sigh emerged from the young woman curled into the armchair in the library at Grimmauld Place, replying without looking up, “I’m going home to visit with my parents until Harry gets here.”

“Of course, it’s about Harry,” Ron muttered angrily, folding his arms with a glare. "You know he’s engaged to Ginny, so you’ll have to get over him, right?”

Hermione hummed distractedly, “It has nothing to do with Harry, though I will admit his presence here will provide a vast improvement over the present company.”

Ron’s face darkened, his hands fisting at his side, as he visibly wrestled control of himself and released a slow breath, “It’s not safe if you leave, Hermione.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned a page. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It has the same sort of wards Harry has on his home, and Professor Snape is going to be keeping an eye on things while I’m there.”

“But you-but…” he trailed off, his face turning red with frustration. "I don’t want you to go.”

Hermione closed her book with an annoyed huff, saying, “Well, I do.” Then waved him off, “I’ll be leaving after the meeting.”

“You can’t leave, Hermione. You’ll have to write to your parents and say you changed your mind.” Ron stated like it was a foregone conclusion and was saved from Hermione’s reply as the door burst open. Ginny’s face flickered with clear disappointment before it was replaced with a giddy expression as she waved her wand at the door, casting a silencing charm: "You’ll never guess what has happened!”

“Besides Hermione’s abandoning us?” Ron replied waspishly.

“Oh, she’s not leaving,” Ginny waved that away, smirking as Hermione glowered at her, “Mom’s already talking to the others about it.”

Face still smug, she sank into a chair, smoothing the cover of the magazine, “Anyway, my news is much more interesting, which is why Hermione can’t leave,”

Groaning, Ron sank into a chair. " Can you spit it out so I can add my whine to Mom to keep her here?”

A slow grin crossed Ginny’s face, “Hermione, your job the next few days is to go through the library and piece together a family tree of the Peverell family line. I need you to concentrate on the oldest child.”

Hermione’s expression was befuddled, and Draco looked at Harry, surprised to find a huge grin on his face.

Hermione spoke before Draco could comment on it, drawing his attention back to the wall, “I realize I might be one of the smartest people in this home right now, but expecting me to find information on the Peverell line in a Black family home seems a little far fetched for even the stupidest person here.”

Ron snickered and then jerked as if stung, glaring at his younger sister, “What the f*ck, Gin?”

“She insulted us, and you laughed,” Ginny replied angrily.

A weird, dazed expression crossed Ron’s face, and Harry tensed in his seat. Ron replied, his voice curiously flat and monotonous: "Mione has a point. It’s a Black family library; they won’t have information on a dead family line.”

Ginny clenched her hand into the magazine, ripped it open, and shoved it towards them. " Not much of a deadline if someone claimed the oldest title.”

“So what?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes a little, and rose to her feet, the book clenched in front of her like a shield.

“So what?” Ginny repeated in shock, “Because they’re a bloody Duke? If I can arrange to meet them before anyone else, I’ll have a leg up on everyone else. Plus, if I use my friendship with Harry, it might endear me to the new Duke because, let’s face it, everyone wants to meet Harry.” Ginny explained hurriedly, “If the Duke turns out to be too old or ugly, then I still have Harry to fall back on.”

Revolted Hermione took a step back, “You’re twisted and disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous that I thought of it first,” Ginny snapped back, then waved dismissively at her brother. "And you got stuck with him, though why he wants you, I have no idea.”

Straightening her shoulders, Hermione looked between the siblings, “I’m not helping, and I’m not staying, so good luck with your pointless research.”

Ginny rose, a hateful, menacing expression twisting her features, “You are helping, even if I have to force you to.”

Hermione's face took on a kind, almost patronizing look, and she tilted her head consideringly, “You can certainly try. Just a bit of advice?”

Confused, Ginny lowered her wand, “advice? You’re going to suggest the spell?”

“No, silly, I’m going to remind you of who the house likes; Medea and her sister don’t take kindly to interlopers, and that's what she considers you to be.” Hermione explained slowly, as if speaking to a child, but then nodded encouragingly, “Give it your best shot, Ginny. See what happens.”

Annoyance replaced the confusion, Ginny’s wand snapping back up, mouth opening. The room went pitch black, and a muffled thump sounded. Then Hermione reappeared, smiling beautifully towards the past out siblings, and then with a wave of her wand, she settled them on the couches, summoned a book off the shelf she laid on Ginny’s chest and then pulled a rumbled magazine from a pocket of her robes, stuffing the Witch Weekly into the same pocket, that she tossed at Ron’s feet, the pages opening to an obviously lewd picture, that was thankfully distorted.

Then, with another self-satisfied hum, Hermione turned on her heel, wordlessly removed the silencing charm, and skipped from the room.

Draco released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and turned to look at Harry, who was covering his mouth. His eyes lit with untold amusem*nt.

Not sure how to react, Draco grinned, jumping a foot as Molly Weasley’s voice echoed around the room , “Ronald Weasley! How dare you have that sort of magazine?”

Jerking his head back toward the wall, he saw Molly standing a foot into the room, abject horror on her face, which quickly turned outraged as she summoned the book that fell off her daughter when Ginny sat up, eyes wide, reading the title out loud, “Virginity and Fooling Your Spouse.”

“No, Mom. I would never.” Ginny protested and looked around the room, her face paling when she realized Hermione wasn’t there.

“Well, it certainly looks like it. Hermione said you two feel a sleep ‘reading,’ obviously too polite to sell you both out, though she did complain about your snoring, Ronald.” Molly replied dangerously, “I told both of you to head to the next floor's parlour and start dusting. That was two hours ago. You’re going to tell me it’s completed, right?”

The siblings exchanged an uneasy look before Ginny jumped up, looking around anxiously for the magazine. “no, not exactly, we were discussing an announcement that appeared in Witch Weekly, and we were-"

“For the love of Ciere, I’ve told you to stop reading that trash!” Molly bellowed. "You’re too young to even think of the things that company publishes.” She held up a hand as Ginny opened her mouth, but then stopped, eyes darting to the book again, voice dropping dangerously low. “Ginevra Weasley, come with me, now.”

Swallowing the youngest, Weasley took a deep breath, “Mom, please just listen. This isn’t what it looks like.”

“What it looks like to me, young lady, is you might not be a virgin, something that is specifically required in the contract we currently have signed.” Molly replied, dangerously soft, “So, is there something you need to confess?”

Ginny went red, then white, and red again, voice coming out in a squeak, “Does it matter?”

Molly Weasley stood there as if frozen, then with a flick of her hand, the book burst into flames, and she tossed it into the fireplace, turned without a word and stalked from the room, leaving both Weasley siblings staring at the door in shock, the expression clear. Not once had they seen their mother too angry to talk, and they had no clue how to repair the damage.

Draco sat back as the wall went dark and then back to normal. He turned to his soulmate, who was frowning at the table. “What’s the matter?”

Harry jerked his eyes towards his and drew in a slow breath, “We need to discuss a contract between us, Draco.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, jaw snapping shut when Harry turned to face him, “Please, just- I- watching that made me realize how serious they are about trying to control my life. Not once had I ever shown an interest in Ginny, and the fact they think the contract they have is valid with or without a virginity clause is terrifying.” He ran a hand down his face, “it’ll get worse when they realize that the Duke of Warwick is me, and-“

Draco slid his hand over Harry’s mouth and smiled weakly, “You’re right. We can discuss it with Nrocneer, okay?”

Harry released a huge sigh, shoulders dropping as he nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

The silence grew thick between them, making Draco’s shoulder hunch as he examined his soulmate's face. Licking his lips, he reached out, placing a tentative hand on Harry’s, “What else is wrong?”

“Does Sirius have a pensive?”

Draco blinked at the question, “I have no idea; I assume, as the Earl, he has access to one, but I don’t know where his private study is, which is where it would be. Why?”

Harry slumped against the high-back but comfortable chair, saying, “The night I was drawn to the ministry was to get a prophecy, something Voldemort wanted desperately, but it broke, and I have no idea what it said.”

Frowning, Draco leaned forward, “Then how would a pensive help?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “I’m hoping I caught enough of it during the fight to piece it together.”

“Ah…” Draco’s mouth opened, and he closed it after nothing came out. Then he shook his head and admitted softly, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, love.”

“Why not?” Harry asked evenly, looking at him intently.

Draco sighed, “Because prophecy isn’t something mundanes should interpret. It’s hard enough for a genuine prophet, but if you missed just one word, never mind a sentence, you’re basing everything on an incomplete statement.”

Harry deflated fully against the chair, eyes closed without a word, making Draco relax, realizing his mate had already thought of that. “Then what do I do?”

“I don’t know if you can do much of anything,” Draco said softly. "Whatever the prophecy said is probably invalid now or completed, as the Dark Lord has been rendered a squib, right?”

Harry opened his green eyes and met Draco’s with a seriousness that raised the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, “What if it wasn’t meant for Riddle, though?”

“Harry…” Draco whispered, his heart pounding hard. He was suddenly terrified and shook his head, hoping to prevent the words he knew would emerge.

“It’s a valid concern, Draco. What if the prophecy didn’t pertain to Riddle but Dumbledore?”

“Love.” The protest died on Draco’s lips as Harry sat up, face resolved.

“No, listen, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Who else has spent my lifetime trying to keep me under control? Who had the power to clear Sirius’s name? Who placed me with abusive relatives and then insisted I stay there? Who’s set me up for one dangerous event every year I’ve been at Hogwarts?” Harry inhaled sharply, “you can’t convince me that Dumbledore didn’t know Quirrell didn’t trip the wards or he didn’t know what was attacking the students in 2nd year? What about the third year? Not only did he allow the dementors to guard the school, something that is a violation against underage students- the over-exposure in the present of Dementors is magically draining, he allowed a supposedly dangerous criminal to infiltrate the school wards at least 3 different times, that’s also not including Professor Lupins inadequate safety precautions. The fourth year is a complete cluster f*ck, I should never have been forced to compete, and no threat of losing my magic due to a magical binding contract should have been valid. Even without my additional titles, as the last Scion of House Potter, it should have been illegal to force me to compete, something the magic of the cup should have known. If they’d investigated the cup or hell, the school wards and asked, they would have known who was involved at the beginning. That also says nothing of the wards not alerting anyone to fake Moody or how both he and Umbridge were allowed to stay, torturing students as they were.”

Draco swallowed, not sure what to say. Harry's implications were terrifying, but he focused on something that struck him odd: " What did the fake moody do that you considered torture?”

Harry looked at him flatly. " He demonstrated the three Unforgiveables and then put students under Imperius .”

“He what?!” The door banged open, revealing a red face and livid Severus Snape standing there with Narcissa, who was pale and trembling.

Harry rolled his eyes and repeated flatly, “he demonstrated the Unforgiveables on spiders and then taught us how to overcome Imperius .”

“Why did you never say anything? Why did none of the Gryffindors ever say anything?” Severus demanded, eyes hard.

Shrugging, Harry leaned back in the chair. “I can’t speak to the rest of my year group, but who would you have suggested I say anything to? No one believed me about not putting my name in the cup. Why would they have believed me if I’d said or ‘accused’ a respected and retired Auror of torture?”

“I would have,” Severus stated softly, making Harry scoff.

“Bullsh*t.”

Startled at the venom in his soulmate’s tone, Draco looked at his godfather, who looked gutted, regret etched on his face. “Harry.”

“No, don’t defend him.” Harry snapped, “he’s treated me worse than trash based on a biased opinion of my father.” He lurched from the chair and stalked to the window, “I’ve literally never had a single person stick up for me my entire life. I was thrust into this world with no warning, no education, and an escort who couldn’t even perform legal magic, had built-in biases with an inability to do legal spells, and gave me a watered-down version of why I was attacked as a toddler. When I got to Hogwarts, sure, the school opened its arms, and it was the first place I’ve ever felt at home, but I went from being called 'Boy' or "Freak," which I should mention I believed was my name until I was enrolled in the public school, to the Boy Who Lived. I underwent one life-threatening experience after another as if I had decades of experience when I could be compared to a toddler learning to tie my shoes. Not once has he-“ he jerked a hand to their professor, “ever had a kind or understanding word, not once has he ever taught me anything. Instead, he berates and belittles me, sticks me in the back of the class so I can’t see the board, and then mocks me for my efforts; why the hell would I have even a snowball's chance in hell of thinking he would believe me? And even if he did, what the f*ck could he have done? No one did anything about Umbridge, and it was known she was using a blood quill.”

A heartbroken noise slipped past Draco’s lips at the emotional storm reverberating through the bond and reached out, “Love…”

“No, Draco. He’s entitled to his anger.” Severus replied softly, shoulders slumping as he exhaled, “I have no defence for my treatment, Harry. Sirius and I thought it best to maintain the illusion we supported Dumbledore.”

Bitterness, sorrow, and anger slid down the bond before the feelings vanished, and Harry spoke, voice devoid of emotion, “Yeah, at the expense of my sanity.” Harry turned slowly, eyes on the floor, “can you even conceive what having a silent supporter might have done? Knowing that I had someone, even if they could have done nothing but offer an ear, might have meant?” When he raised his eyes, they were filled with tears, “people look and expect things of me for reasons I don’t understand. There may or may not be a prophecy that started this entire nightmare, and yet I have people dismissing me like a child, but then every year, I’m thrust into situations against my will and then blamed because when adults couldn’t be bothered to do their job.”

Harry surveyed the stunned participants in the room and deflated, “I hate being kept in the dark, but it’s evident that’s where everyone believes I need to be.”

Heartsore, Draco watched the dejected slump of his soulmate's shoulder as Harry turned to look out the window. He wanted to offer comfort but was still determining if it would be welcomed.

Severus made to move but restrained himself and cleared his throat, “I don’t want you to be in the dark, Harry. Sirius and I made many decisions without discussing them with you, and while it might sound like an excuse, some of it can’t be easily accepted without definable proof on our end.”

In a move that shocked Draco, Severus twisted his hands together in a move that spoke to more than nervousness: “Sirius should be home tonight, and we’ll sit down with the Pensive to explain our past and the decisions we’ve made. Hopefully, no matter how angry it makes you, and I suspect it will, we can work towards a truce and a working relationship in the future.”

The older man opened his mouth as if to continue but closed it slowly as Harry exhaled tiredly, “All right, we can table it for now.” He turned, folding his arms in a purely defensive move; Draco understood and sympathized with, “I assume that this isn’t why you came, so how can I help, Professor?”

“I wanted to run a few diagnostics for your file. It may never be needed, but if Dumbledore tries to argue his actions, you’ll have proof of everything that’s happened.” Severus explained calmly, “But Narcissa explained you two were going to the bank and then asked for an escort.”

“Where’s Severus?” Dumbledore’s voice rippled from the wall, revealing the dark, dungeon-like kitchen of Grimmauld's place. The table was filled with members of the Order of Phoenix, all appearing exhausted and confused.

Dumbledore stood at the foot of the table, glaring at Sirius, who sat with another bottle of whiskey. “Well, as I didn’t leave him exhausted in my bed, and he’s not lurking in a dark corner pretending to be a bat, I have no idea where your pet is, Albus.”

A disgruntled look crossed the headmaster's face, which was quickly replaced with an even expression, “I wish you’d stop antagonizing Severus; we are on the same side; it serves nothing by spreading malicious rumours.”

Sirius barked a laugh and tipped the bottle, taking a drink. He ignored Remus, who cleared his throat and frowned disapprovingly. “Albus is right, Pads. Why can’t you get over this schoolboy rivalry?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Sirius looked at the werewolf, “Because it amuses the f*ck out of me?“

“Sirius, it’s been 14 years. Don’t you think it’s time to grow up?” Remus asked quietly, then flinched as Sirius growled. The sub-tonal echo from his chest indicated it was Padfoot, his animagis form threatening to emerge. "I know exactly how many years it’s been, Moony, and if I didn’t know better, you're just as jealous as you were back then.”

Remus flushed but backed down; the dynamic between the two men was interesting if you knew what to look for, the werewolf submitting to the animagus.

The headmaster cleared his throat, returning the attention to him, “Well, hopefully, Severus has news when he returns. As for why this emergency meeting was called, we’ve had reports that several civilians and confirmed death eaters are suffering from random maladies that have no rhyme or reason. There is an investigation through the DMLE, but we have no real information as Fudge is still restricting access and suppressing information.” Dumbledore sighed, mopping at his brow, and then looked at a young woman with bubblegum pink hair, “Nymphadora, I understand your mother is a Doctor at St.Mungo’s?”

“Tonks,” the woman replied warily, annoyance creasing her brow. "And yes, she is the first witch in England to earn the distinction.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression unreadable, and his eyes continued to twinkle. “Yes, yes, of course, such an honour.”

Tonks frowned, chewing her lip, “I don’t know if it’s so much an honour or just a determination to prove her devotion.”

“Do you think you could obtain information from your mother?” Albus asked causally, though he removed his hands from the table and hid them under the table out of sight.

Shaking her head, Tonks didn’t even pretend to think it over. " It's not going to be possible; not only has she explained the vows and oaths she took, but we agreed that we would never discuss our work as it could be considered a conflict of interest. I’m not even allowed to speak with her in the course of my job; it has to be another Auror.”

Dumbledore dropped his shoulders, his face heavy with disappointment. “That’s regrettable; it could have been an invaluable help.”

“Well, I’m not risking my mother's magic for your curiosity,” Tonks snapped, sitting up, glare forming on her face, jerking from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who set a hand on her shoulder, “no, don’t even Kings, he has no idea the effort my mother and I have gone through to continue our relationship, I refuse to jeopardize it.”

“That’s quite alright, Tonks,” Dumbledore spoke swiftly, his eyes no longer sparkly. "We’ll see if we can find another way.” He waited a minute, taking a sip of his tea. "Do we have any credible witnesses to the events that have taken place?”

Arthur’s head ducked, but he nodded, “My office was brought in to check for muggle artifacts, of which none were found, though I can say with certainty that no muggle device could have been responsible.” He paused and licked his lips. “I also managed to check one of the bodies before I was ushered away. The frozen expression on their face was one of untold terror and pain, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what caused it beyond Judgment.”

The table froze, eyes flickering between the two men with growing unease. An unfamiliar voice whispered, “Judgement?”

Arthur nodded without looking, eyes firmly on the table, “yes, it was a very similar expression to my great-uncle when he was punished for his crimes before his execution.”

The discomfort that rippled around the table was visible as the others shifted away from Arthur Weasley. A sad smile, full of resignation, flashed across his face, but he said nothing, keeping his gaze on the table.

Albus cleared his throat, “I don’t want to disagree, my boy, but how could you possibly know what your great uncle-“

“Because it’s included in a warning when we claim the family magic, Albus.” Arthur snapped, making them flinch. The ordinarily calm, jovial man's sudden irritation made Molly frown at him in disapproval. “We see the ritual and execution, Albus, and I can guarantee the men afflicted are because they’re being punished by magic.”

A rumble of noise sounded as Albus raised his hands, pleading for silence. " While I don’t discount your experience, Arthur, let’s not spread untrue information without clarification. I could see it as a punishment he devised, but not ritually. He would never have the courage to petition Lady Magic—“ Albus’s face twisted slightly, “nor would she grant Voldemort's—“ everyone flinched, “request?”

A young woman with dark hair frowned at the table. " Who’s to say it was him? Why not the Potter Boy?”

Albus chuckled and shook his head. “Harry lacks the education to pull off such a feat, and the wards would alert me to such activities. I promise he hasn’t meddled in such forbidden arts while under my care.” He paused and cleared his throat. "It’s also prophesied that he must physically face and destroy Voldemort; using ancient ritual practices isn’t his path.”

No one said anything to counter Dumbledore, but the mood soured instantly. Arthur lurched from his chair and stalked from the room. The headmaster watched him and shook his head slowly in disappointment before turning to look at Remus. " Has there been any luck with the werewolf packs?”

“They’ve relocated.” Remus admitted softly, head still bowed, as he pulled out a much-crumbled piece of parchment and handed it over, “They’ve warded their new location to disallow the presence of wolfsbane; I won’t find it, not even if I was standing on top of it.”

Frowning furiously, Dumbledore heaved a sigh, “That’s a shame, I’ll admit I’m disappointed-“

“f*ck off.” Sirius snapped, sitting up and glaring at the headmaster. “Oh, don’t look shocked, old man; you know the dangers of wolfsbane as much as the next person; the fact that you’ve convinced Remus it’s necessary is disgusting.”

Albus’s shocked expression was quickly replaced with a stoic one. He opened his mouth, but Sirius mimed his fingers at him to close it: "You’ve spent two decades making Remus poison himself in some form or another by encouraging the usage of wolfsbane, and while Remus and I might be at odds over certain issues, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you chastise him for your lack of foresight.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wolfsbane has only been readily available in the last ten years, Sirius,” Albus said, staring at the ex-con.

Sirius smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant, “given that I’ve had nothing but time while you’ve kept me prisoner in my own home, I’ve done some research, and it matches the memories I have of the last two years of school, and his co*cktail of potions that were prescribed. I noticed a little pattern to them that gives me the idea you were using Remus as a test dummy for the creator, passing along your observations, the results of each full moon, and how they got corresponding easier to deal with. Still, Remus became more twisted and deformed until Moony became unrecognizable. It was disheartening spending a full moon with him, twelve years later, because that wasn’t the wolf I knew.” Sirius took a pull of his bottle and set it down, “in fact I suspect that you spent the year he was teaching using him once again to help improve the effectiveness of the potion. He explained that the potion had been altered and required a full seven days before a full moon, which is when I knew something wasn’t right because it made no sense for him to attack us when we left the Shrieking Shack.”

Remus abruptly left the table, Sirius looking torn before he rose to his feet and followed his friend without a backward glance, missing the contemplative expression filled Dumbledore's face.

The four people in the study at Black Manor stared at one another, the silence stifling before Harry spoke, his voice cracking: " What did Arthur mean when he saw his Great Uncle executed?”

Draco closed his eyes as Severus cleared his throat, “The man was arrested and charged with breaking the International Statute of Secrecy during the First World War. His punishment besides ritual rendering was the loss of title, estate, money and his life.”

“Blood traitor.” Harry whispered in sudden understanding and glanced at Draco, “It was the start of the blood feud between the Weasleys and Malfoys, wasn’t it?”

Draco opened his mouth to protest when his mother spoke, “You’d be correct, Hadrian. Gareth Weasley Sr stupidly attempted to implicate Abraxas’s father. Nico was an old man and probably the world's worst pacifist, and he was more interested in cataloging the library than anything, including his son. It’s why Abraxas wrestled the family magics from his father at seventeen. Nico was imprisoned in the manor until Lucius was ten years old.”

“I didn’t know that,” Draco said, his face filled with confusion. "Father never talked about great-grandfather Nico.”

“I talked to the portraits,” Narcissa offered and admitted, “for a time, they were my only friends; Armand was my favourite.”

A weak smile crossed Draco’s face, and he leaned against Harry when his soulmate wrapped an arm around his waist, “mine too.”

Harry pressed closer, eyes troubled, “I can see from just that scene we watched there is more to your story than I expected, so I’ll wait until Sirius is available, Severus, but I need you to promise you’ll both be truthful and leave nothing out.”

“A pensive will be necessary, as I said, but if you wish to request Veritaserum or vow, I’m willing to do both.” Severus offered seriously, “I don’t want you to doubt my word, even though I’ve given you no reason not to.”

Harry hummed noncommittally, glancing at the normal-looking wall. " Can we run the diagnoses? I think you’re right; we’ll need them to combat whatever Dumbledore is planning.”

“Very well,” Severus agreed, “do you wish for privacy?”

Harry glanced between the two adults and shook his head, “should I lay down?”

The potion master nodded his head. " It would be best,” he said, waving a hand toward the couch. "There might be some discomfort while it is completed. It will compare against the first set of diagnostics I cast.”

“I understand. They’ve never been comfortable when Madame Pomfrey performs them either.” Harry said as he toed off his trainers and settled on the couch, shifting to get comfortable.

Severus waited a few minutes for Harry to get comfortable before casting. The white light encompassing his body split into a rainbow of colours, with the white remaining to superimpose over a sea of red and blue.

It was easy for Draco to see the differences: red was the original damage, with white showing the corrections and blue showing things that still needed correction. The disturbing thing about the blue light was centred around the scar on his head, “I thought that was fixed.” Draco said softly, curling his hands into fists to stop him from reaching out to touch.

“It is; it’s residual magic,” Narcissa stated softly from where she’d sunk into a chair, eyes wide and horrified as she gazed at her future son-in-law. “We can perform a blessing ritual through a coven or conclave of three. I’d have to research which would be more beneficial.” She reached out a finger, tracing but not touching a line, gold and thinned, “Lily’s protection, strengthen that through a maternal blessing,” she pointed to another, green and silver, “or a coven who share the bloodline. Either could be beneficial.”

Draco frowned while watching the light show. A scroll appeared and was glowing as the diagnostic continued its scan. “It might be easier for a coven, you, Pansy and Hermione.”

Humming, Narcissa titled her head, “Maybe….”

“Why not a merger of both?” Harry asked from the couch, flinching then shifting uncomfortably. “An intercepting loop, male, female, with me in the middle?”

“The magic of conclave or coven is never meant to be mixed.” Severus cautioned, running his wand down Harry’s body, “The mixing of such magics could be dangerous.”

“ Prifma Libratum .” Harry whispered, then jerked and drew in a hissing breath, “f*ck, that hurt.”

Severus paused his movements, glancing at Harry, “Where did you hear of such a ritual?”

Harry shrugged, “Medea is quite excited.”

Draco frowned at his soulmate, unsure if he believed him, given Severus's reaction, and wondered if it was another thing in the book Harry found in the Chamber.

“We need to host a ball.” Harry went to sit up, but Severus’s quick hand prevented him from moving, though all eyes widened in confusion as they looked at Harry.

“A ball?” Narcissa asked cautiously, “Why?”

“You’re supposed to be in hiding, remember?” Severus bit out, finishing the last sweep as he glared down at his husband’s ‘son,’ “It’s almost finished, so stay still.”

“An introduction to the wizarding world, also a challenge. I want Riddle captured. If he is a squib, he won’t be able to resist the temptation of challenging me. He’ll think he has the upper hand with a room full of victims.” Harry cracked open his eyes and waited for Severus to grunt and allow him to sit before continuing, “We block off access to private areas, hire the Dverger as security, and use the guests to power the circle built into the ballroom floor. It’ll hold for seventy-two hours, but if we can time it for a new moon and do both before dawn….” He trailed off and frowned; "six, including myself, would be the perfect balance. That’s seven, a powerful number, three females, two dark, one light, and of the blood. Three males, two light, one dark, and of the blood. It’s almost terrifying to think of things we could accomplish with that power.”

Severus sat with a frown, “while your theory is good, you don’t have a third for the conclave, and that says nothing of the anchor point.”

“The anchor point is me. Even being the focus, the family magic of Salazar resides in me, meaning I’m grey.” Harry simply nodded at the wall that erupted in vines: "As for our third, it means you’ll have to go with us to Gringotts, Consort Black, Lord Severus Prince .”

***

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The four of them returned from the bank with a shocked and terrified Pansy. Harry stumbled as he emerged from the fireplace, which annoyed him to no end, but that said nothing of a familiar voice shouting as it echoed throughout the manor. “What do you mean he’s been helping you?”

Harry sighed, “Joy, that's not exactly how I wanted it to perform an introduction. I apologize, Pansy.”

Pansy shifted closer as the same voice bellowed again.

“Why do you believe him? You’ve hated him since we met on the train as first years!”

“Let me introduce you and hopefully defuse that landmine.” Harry retook her hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, and pulled her forward, leading the way from the small room reserved for floo travel.

Turning towards the study, Harry noticed Narcissa veer off and dipped her a nod, knowing she was going to arrange rooms for Pansy, but couldn’t help but have a momentary pang of longing that he couldn’t escape as well.

Reaching the open doors of the study, he saw Sirius lounging in a chair, lazily twirling his wand, eyeing something out of sight. Still, the intensity of Sirius’s dark eyes indicated that the harsh, inaudible muttering from a pacing figure out of sight was the cause. Sirius turned his head to meet his gaze, eyes rolling in matching irritation as he rose to his feet, making Hermione, who was curled feet up in another chair, absurdly large tome on her lap, hiding half her body, look up as Cronkshank lay eagle-eyed tail flicking as if displeased by the display he was also watching.

“How did the bank go?” Sirius asked as he approached the four of them, his wand disappearing, though Harry knew it wasn’t far. Sirius reached down to give Harry a hug.

“Could have been better, but we got a contract in place.”

“Medea informed me,” Sirius offered, explaining how he knew. "It’s also why I got Hermione out of the house; the two younger Weasley siblings are becoming too unpredictable.”

Scowling, Harry shifted back, gesturing to the teen beside him, “Let me introduce you, Sirius.”

Sirius stiffened as Remus appeared, flashing gold eyes behind his shoulder, but kept his gaze on Harry and nodded.

“Sirius, may I present the Baroness of Grafton, Pansy Parkison. She claimed the title this afternoon upon the death of her father. Pansy, Sirius Black, Earl of Islington, my adopted father,” he paused and held out a hand to Hermione, who’d set her book aside and rose to her feet. "Pansy, Lady Hermione Peverell, my adopted sister and Remus Lupin, our former Professor.”

Remus opened his mouth but shut it when Sirius jerked his head, keeping his attention on Pansy, who offered a wide-eyed look but dropped a curtsy. “My Lord, Hadrian explained the circ*mstances and situation, withholding nothing. I agreed to the terms he set forth and appreciate the offer of sanctuary,” Pansy paused and licked her lips, “Lady Hermione, I owe you years' worth of apologies for my treatment of you and of the beliefs I parroted; it was wrong of me, and I hope we can come to a peaceful truce.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she darted a glance at Harry, who nodded, instantly easing her tension. " Call me Hermione; there need be no formality between friends, Baroness.”

Pansy head jerked up in surprise, looking back and forth between Sirius and Hermione before nodding shyly, “If we’re to be friends, it’s Pansy, please.”

“Of course, Harry left a note indicating you might be coming. Let’s leave them to their conversation, and I’ll give you a tour and show you to your rooms. After that, we can find Cissy and help finalize plans for the ball.”

“Ball?” Sirius stated, shocked, “What ball?”

“Traitor,” Harry muttered, folding his arms as Hermione winced and then offered Harry an apologetic look before snagging Pansy's hand and fleeing the room, leaving Harry staring after Hermione’s back in utter betrayal.

“What ball, Harry?” Sirius demanded as the two girls disappeared, Cronkshanks trotting to catch up.

“The ball we're hosting on the 14th,” Harry offered, slipping into the room, making a beeline for the sideboard of alcohol - one of the best perks of being a legal adult.

“Harry?” Remus asked in confusion as he stared at the teen, waving a hand, summoning the bottle from his grip, and rounded on Sirius. "What the hell, Pads? Not only did you kidnap him, but you’re letting him drink? ‘Maybe Dumbledore was right, and you’re not meant to be a parent!”

“Hey!” Harry shouted, glaring at Remus, “Don’t talk to Sirius that way! Not only do you not know what’s happened, but you have no room to judge, considering that you told me nothing about being my parents' friend and only indicated you were acquaintances in school.”

“It was for your safety, Harry.” Remus brushed him off. "Albus knew he could trust me and didn’t want it to give you a false sense of hope.”

Glowering, Harry held out a hand and wordlessly summoned the bottle of fire whiskey back, twisting off the top to Remus’s stunned expression and knocking back a swallow straight from the bottle. " False sense of hope?”

Shifting uncomfortably as five sets of eyes bore into him, Remus nodded slowly, “When Sirius broke out of prison, we knew he’d come to Hogwarts, but Dumbledore didn’t think it would serve you if you knew of the close association between us or what Sirius was supposed to be to you. Given past events, we also couldn't be sure of Severus’s loyalties, so I came in as an impartial observer.”

“You mean Dumbledore didn’t trust his own compulsions or obedience charms? That’s ironic.” Harry muttered, taking another pull from the bottle, then batted Sirius’s metaphorical hand away when he felt the touch of magic on his skin. " Get your own bottle, Pads; this one is mine.”

“I paid for it!” Sirius squawked but moved to grab his own. Then he stuck out his tongue, grabbing two tumblers and filling them, offering one to Severus, who moved into the room, ignoring the bristling werewolf.

“If you were born in 1323, maybe, but I have a good bet it was an ancestor who did.” Harry retorted but grabbed a tumbler and filled it, offering it to Draco, who stood indecisively by the door, “are you sure?”

“No, but I’ve had sixteen years of secrets, and I refuse to have more, especially between us,” Harry replied, wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist, purposefully allowing his sleeve to lift and reveal his mark and knew by Remus’s shocked hiss that the werewolf saw, and turned glittering eyes on the man. “Are you trustworthy, Lupin?”

“Of course I am!” Remus growled indignantly, only backing down when Sirius growled in response.

“It’s alright, Pads.” Harry assured his adopted father, “Remus can’t hurt me. His oath to Dumbledore prevents that, at least.”

“He’s being disrespectful, Hadrian,” Severus replied, sinking into a chair, touching his ring to remove the glamour, which drew Remus’s gaze.

The werewolf blinked in confusion when Sirius’s shifted too, the scruffy man turning into a regal lord in its place who’d sunk onto the love seat beside Severus, agreeing with a frown. “He is, and it makes me ashamed to have counted him as one of my best friends. His loyalty oath is to Dumbledore.”

“Eh, that may be, but Dumbledore won’t be a problem for much longer,” Harry replied, pulling Draco down beside him. Then he nodded to Remus, “You have a choice, Remus. Either you offer a loyalty oath to me, or I’ll obliviate you and drop you in a random location with enough money to tide you over and a new sense of direction that will hopefully lead you to a better life than the one Dumbledore offered.”

A swirling mass of conflicting emotions crossed Remus’s face, and he shook his head as if to clear his mind, “Not only are you not old enough, Harry, you don’t have the power to cast an obliviate that will remain unbreakable for long.”

Amused, Harry chuckled and glanced at Sirius, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Remus demanded harshly.

“No, I was going to, but he got offended by the research into the usage of wolfsbane done by Sev,” Sirius replied carelessly, “I was pissed on his behalf, so I didn’t get that fair.”

“Ah….” Harry leaned back into the cushion as he shifted and waved a hand. The room lit up with colour as a spiralling circle rotated around the floor, encasing the werewolf. He then rose to his feet. "One bit of free information before I demand your choice. You’re either with me or against me, so let me introduce myself, Remus Lupin.”

“I know who you are, Harry.” The wolf snapped, then winced as the band of light flexed, immobilizing him.

“No, you don’t; even Dumbledore doesn’t, which isn’t as ironic as it should be; he’s never been one to clarify any information but goes of his own sense of importance,” Harry replied, holding his hand to Draco, who rose clasping it. “My name is Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, Duke of Warwick, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis.” He bowed formally and patiently, “and magical Heir to Slytherin.” Then gestured to Draco, “My Soulmate, and Consort Draconis Black-Percaval.” Harry tilted his head, watching Remus’s eyes widen in shock. He added, “If that doesn’t clarify things, it means that I’m a fully emancipated adult, Remus, and Dumbledore has no hope of ever controlling me again.”

“But… but, Dumbledore didn’t- he said- your title- Potter went dead.” The devastation written across the werewolf's face made Harry’s heart constrict. He flicked a finger, loosening the bonds but not dismissing the circle, and gently urged Remus to sit with a nudge of magic, “He also said wolfsbane was safe, too, Remus, and we both know Moony hates the constraint you’ve imposed on him.” He waved a hand to Sirius, “Dumbledore was also responsible for Sirius spending twelve years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and then two years on the run,” Harry kept his gaze as Remus’s head snapped up, eyes unfocused as he turned to look at the two men on the couch, and closed his eyes as tears filled his eyes, and asked softly, “tell me one single thing Dumbledore has done that has been to our benefit?”

Remus said nothing, tears falling from his eyes and sniffing pitifully. Harry sank back to the couch, allowing Draco to lean against him, “Remus, whatever Dumbledore has shared has been designed to get you to comply with his wishes, his belief that he’s right and the rest of the world is wrong. You know there’s a prophecy about me that says I’m to defeat the Dark Lord, but have you ever thought that the Dark Lord isn’t Tom Riddle but Albus himself?”

“NO!” The word was ripped from the werewolf’s mouth, but he froze in shock as the magical expulsion hit a bearer that absorbed the power. He stared at Harry in shock, who offered him a smile, though Harry couldn’t guarantee it was kind.

“My offer is simple, Remus. You can offer an unbreakable vow that you’re loyal to me until such time that Dumbledore is no longer a problem, or I can obliviate you now, offer you some better memories, and the chance to accept Moony, setting you free, the choice is entirely yours.” Harry stated evenly but firmly, “I have enough to contend with, and I’m not having another Pettigrew on my hands, which is one of the reasons Ron is no longer trusted, given what he and Ginny have done to Hermione this summer or planned for my future.”

At that, Remus looked confused and worried, “what have they done to her?”

“Do you remember when Molly caught Hermione doing Ron’s homework?” Draco asked in disgust, layering his tone, making Remus flinch but nod. "Ginny ordered Ron to ‘deal’ with her shortly before that. Because Hermione threatened to tell Sirius about her plans to slip Harry a love potion, Ron obliviated her. It didn’t work because Sirius had given her an heirloom to protect her, but they’ve become more dangerous, which is why she’s here.”

“Oh…” Remus trembled, his eyes clouding, and then flashed amber, the pain and defiance burning in them, making Harry sit up wordlessly, summoning Remus’s wand and ignoring the angry snarl from his former professor. “Calm down, Remus, and stop fighting, Moony.”

“It’s wrong!” It burst out of Remus desperately, voice breaking.

“It’s not. It's how Dumbledore has made you believe what you are is.” Harry stated, and rose to his feet, “Dumbledore has twisted your perceptions of your own memories,” Harry held up a hand when Remus opened his mouth to argue, “Moony recognizes Padfoot as the Alpha in your dynamic, no matter the magical properties of a werewolf a Grim is always going to be more powerful, and Moony instinctively knows that, but in some twisted way Dumbledore has twisted that in your mind and made it seem that you’re inadequate. It’s how Dumbledore operates; he takes things he knows and twists them to his purpose, then discards them when they’re no longer useful.”

“He’s a good man.” Remus protested weakly, unable to break eye contact, which was enough for Harry to see what he wanted.

“A good man doesn’t send children to a home where they’re physically, emotionally, and verbally abused. A good man doesn’t ignore the same child every year when they plead and beg for sanctuary; they wouldn’t set them, testing them to see where they stand regarding magical power. A good man doesn’t set out to destroy friendships in the making or betray the very foundation of magic by trying to destroy a soul-fated match. If Albus Dumbledore were a good man, Remus, he wouldn’t have been condemned by magic herself.” He slipped through the barrier, ignoring the calls of his name and knelt in front of the werewolf, offered a hand, and waited for the man to accept it. Before the man could react, he sent the same memory into Remus’s head and tightened his grip on the older man's hands when he tried to break free.

The parlour was tastefully decorated, the walls a pale shimmering pearl with snoozing portraits along one wall; over the fireplace stood a landscape portrait that showed a glimmering loch that rippled in the sun that glinted off the waves lazily rolling onto the shore. The blue furniture, trimmed in dark wood, was set around in a comfortable half circle, and the remains of a tea service were on the knee-high table in the center. On one couch sat Sirius, stretched out, trying to stifle yawns of exhaustion. In contrast, Remus sat on another, nursing a cup of tea, flinching every time Peter shifted on the couch beside him, watching James gush to the old man who was gazing down at Harry with serious, non-twinkling eyes, “And where is Lily, James, I expected to see her?”

James shrugged, grinning, and accepted Harry back when Ablus handed him over, his fingers seeming to tremble. “She went shopping to stock up on potion ingredients, now that Severus finally convinced her to join him in their quest to get their mastery now that Harry is three months old, and I’ve proved I can care for him.”

Sirius snorted from the couch, “You mean we can care for him? Merlin forbid you two decide to have more children. We’re going to need an army of house elves to assist us.”

Albus’s eyes flashed, “Lily’s going for her potions Mastery?”

“Yep, she’s really excited, too,” James replied happily, stroking Harry’s cheek and ignoring Sirius. "So she convinced Severus that they needed ‘new’ everything and dragged him to Rome to acquire it, claiming England had substandard cauldrons.”

Albus frowned, “The Countess of Exmoor seems content to spend your money easily.”

James pulled back, matching his frown, “Considering she’s my wife, what’s your point?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all, my boy, I’m just concerned,” Albus waved carelessly, “She seems to exert a lot of control when you are the Earl; wasn’t she responsible for your failure to join the Order?”

“We made the decision together, Albus. At the time, I may have only been Heir, but it wasn’t a sound decision to join an organization that is considered an illegal vigilante group, no matter their reported purpose. I had a duty to my title, family, and wife, who was carrying the next generation. Dying needlessly would have served nothing.” James retorted evenly, rocking Harry as the baby whimpered in his sleep.

“I suppose that’s fair; I didn’t think of it in those terms,” Albus admitted, but with a clear note of disapproval in his tone, “That doesn’t say anything of your decision not to continue auror training; you quit against my advice.”

“Albus, why are you so concerned about decisions Lily and I make together? Are you still put out we didn’t invite you to the wedding?” James asked, shifting on the couch to reach for the bottle, easing the nipple into Harry’s mouth.

“I’m disappointed you saw fit to invite a bunch of known death eaters to your wedding. It would have been a wonderful opportunity to acquire information.” Albus retorted, eyes flashing.

“Some may have been known death eaters, but I assure you they were all on their best behaviour given their blood status and titles. Being invited to the wedding of one of the oldest titles in circulation wouldn’t serve any of them to be anything less than perfect, and yes, I know you don’t understand the power a title can hold having none yourself. Still, I promise Lily and I were the safest we could have ever been surrounded on our wedding day. Above anything else, the nobility cares more about looks and how they’re perceived by a new player than any other action.” James shifted Harry to his shoulder after setting the bottle down, “As for Auror training, I decided it wasn’t for me. I have a much more important job in my duty to my son and my title. I can do more good battling laws that affect my son and friends in the Wizengamot than on a battlefield than sacrificing myself for some outdated ideology of light versus dark.”

Their old headmaster’s shoulders dropped in disappointment, and he sighed heavily, “That is disappointing, my boy. I was hoping I could convince you to assist you with a donation today. We’ve run up against a few heavy areas of resistance, and it’s severely hampered our efforts.”

“Then propose a law that can be introduced to the legislative body, Albus,” Sirius said, sitting up and wiping his face before adjusting the leather bracers. “This entire conversation is tiring and getting old; we’ve both told you we have no interest in joining your cause.”

The light blue eyes that were so familiar were cold as ice when he looked up from his intense stare. Throughout the conversation, his gaze never wavered from Harry, who was now sleeping in James' arms again. “No, you’d just rather sleep your way through the entire witch population of Britain.”

“Witch or wizard, Albus, keep your facts straight.” Sirius laughed in amusem*nt and stood, “Though, as a side note, I’m also learning from my grandfather, you know, as his Heir; if James has the oldest title in circulation, I’m set to inherit the next.”

A frown of confusion flickered through Albus’s eyes, “according to rumour, it was supposed to go to your brother.”

Another laugh left Sirius, but this one was harsh, bitter, and grief-stricken: "And that proves that your source of information is as inaccurate as ever, Albus. Regulus was labelled a traitor to Voldemort and died in ‘79. As the only viable candidate left. I have a duty to my godson and name to learn all I can and not throw it away needlessly.”

A silence settled over the room as Albus’s aura flickered and then expanded in an outward circle, encompassing all the men in the room. Only Moony’s amber eyes flickered, unaffected by the power but restricted by the wolfsbane in his human’s system.

“Such a shame it came to this; your parents had potential but decided to defy me and squandered it on you.” The old wizard shifted in his seat and sighed deeply in regret. Then he moved forward, rubbing a thumb over Harry’s forehead. "No matter. I have plans, young one. You’ll meet your end sooner than most, but as always, it’s for the greater good.”

Moony only realized he was rumbling in his chest when blue eyes pierced his, hatred and disgust filling them with no barrier. He raised a wand, “Obliviate.”

The memory released Remus with a shuddering breath, his eyes filling with tears, gold eyes locked onto green as Harry opened his mouth and spoke softly, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

Remus inhaled sharply, the tears suddenly releasing in a torrent of betrayal. He collapsed into Harry's arms with whispers of apologies, the glowing circle encompassing them fading away to nothing as Harry held the fragile man in his arms.

It took a long time for the werewolf to calm down, only succeeding when a calming draught was fetched. When he did, Remus accepted his wand back and made his vow, making the two older adults relax in their seats, though they still looked uneasy.

Only their love and trust in Hadrian prevented them from arguing, though they watched the man warily, Sirius finally biting the bullet as it were to ask, “What happened?”

“Confirmation of a suspicion I had,” Harry said lightly, leaning back into his seat, pressed against Draco, who glanced at him side-eyed.

"I thought you didn’t know the prophecy?”

Harry opened his mouth and shrugged, “It just came to me, Medea, maybe? Though it does make me question, if Dumbledore was all-powerful, why did he allow the prophecy to reach Voldemort?“

There was an uncomfortable silence, but Severus cleared his throat, “It was I who did that, though I truthfully didn’t hear the whole thing.”

Harry turned his head to frown at the man, “when was that?”

“Just after your first birthday, I was one of the applicants applying for the position of Potions assistant while working on my Mastery.” Severus answered slowly, hesitantly, as if sensing a trap, “Sirius and I had already discussed options and whatnot, but the Darklord had grown extremely powerful with a lot of successes in a short period; against both of our wishes, he was pressured to join the Order with James. We decided to go with one of our original ideas when I heard the prophecy. Lily and I had a huge public falling out, and in retaliation, I joined “His” side, offering the partial prophecy as my payment to get in and spy.”

Sirius's face filled with a weird frown of confusion as he glanced at Severus. “That can’t be right. I know I didn’t discuss my work, but Croaker and I were already researching possibilities surrounding the prophecy in March of ‘81.”

“How did you hear a potential prophecy if it was an interview being conducted? I know Dumbledore has silencing charms in his office.” Harry asked, glancing between the three men.

“The interview was held at the Hogsend, Harry.” Severus said slowly, then frowned, speaking slowly, “And that is the oddest thing to just realize; why would Albus do interviews in public?”

A growing sense of dread filled Harry as he glanced at Remus, seeing the heartbreak on the werewolf’s face. He prompted the man, “Remus?”

“Dumbledore knew the prophecy much earlier, maybe even before Harry was born.” The earlier ire was gone from the man’s voice, leaving it defeated.

“What do you mean?” Sirius demanded, pulling away from where he leaned against Severus.

Remus cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. " Do you have a pensive? It’s easier to show the-“ he cut himself off and closed his eyes briefly before continuing, “it’ll be easier than repeating it.”

Sirius hesitated briefly before touching the table, “Medea?”

The table flickered, vanishing the top, revealing a swirling pool of ghostly white memories, and nodded to Remus.

Without comment, Remus touched the tip of his wand to his head, swirling it around before pulling it away. He duplicated the strand of silver before dropping it into the ‘bowl.’ The other memories spiralled underneath as Remus’s memory played out on the surface.

Everyone was silent as they watched the same memory Harry had seen, though he was frowning when it finished.

Draco broke the silence, “I didn’t think anyone could touch a prophecy unless it concerned those named.”

“Normally, they can’t.” Sirius said, rubbing a hand over his face, “There are sections in the Department of Mysteries that only high-level people get access to. One is associated with the Hall of Prophecies. It was one of my areas of study. However, at the time, I didn’t understand exactly why.” He rolled his eyes as the curtains fluttered, “if a threat has been determined through the Magic that governs Avalon, the appropriate prophecy will play out, being copied word for word, it was part of my job to determine the sensory threat and hopefully determine principle players.” He sighed wordlessly, refilling his glass, “I’ve determined with what memories I have, thanks to Medea and Severus’s help, that though the magic is still there, it’s fractured and broken, as evident by that.” He waved a hand at the wispy memory. “That prophecy should have hit the Hall when it was first uttered, but even though Avalon knew it to be a threat, it is no longer capable of helping us break down the areas we need to concentrate on.”

“I wonder if that’s why people forgot my titles still existed or if that was Avalon's way of protecting me?” Harry stated, remaining unmoving when four sets of eyes fixated on him. “Well, just think, Remus believed that just the Potter title was dead; part of that duty is to be Guardian. If you consider the Warwick titles and the ties to what amount to myths and legends, why wouldn’t Avalon be trying to protect me when it became aware that there was a threat that none could combat until I was old enough?”

“What myths and legends?” Remus asked in confusion and then flushed apologetically at his ignorance.

“The tales of the three brothers,” Draco said into the awkward silence, “it’s considered nothing more than a fable now, a fairytale told to children still in the nursery.”

“Alright?” Remus questioned slowly, “Is it important to this subject?”

Draco glanced at Harry briefly, who shrugged but answered for his soulmate: “I’m the master of death, Remus. I descended from two of the three brothers from both sides. My father was born to Ignatas, the youngest brother, and my mother to the middle brother, Cadmus. " He flicked a hand, summoning a small book from the shelf, and offered it to the man. You can read it and determine if it’s important later.”

Skeptical Remus accepted the worn book and set it on the small table beside him. "Okay, but that doesn’t help us determine when Albus heard the prophecy first or why it took so long for it to be leaked—if that’s even the right word.”

“It would be.” Draco said, sitting up, “I think Harry's right. Avalon's trying to protect him, but when Dumbledore made his plans, that’s what alerted Avalon, hoping someone could figure out what the prophecy meant.” He frowned in sudden thought, “Dumbledore sat on the prophecy even after he marked Harry. Something must have happened in the months leading up to March that made Avalon react.”

The three older males shook their heads, “the Wizengamot would have been in sessions, so it’s possible something happened there, but any of the people we could ask are either dead or unavailable.”

Sirius knocked back his drink and leaned against Severus again, “I don’t know if we’ll ever know what triggered the response, and I’m not sure if it matters.”

“But shouldn’t we determine how true it is, it could contain the answers to defeating the Darklord.” Remus protested, glancing between them, “We still have to bring down He Who Must Not Be Named and now apparently Dumbledore.”

“Riddle is a non-issue, Remus.” Harry said tiredly, glancing at the clock and spoke before Remus could, “Folly.”

The house elf popped into the room, “Your Grace.”

Rolling his eyes at the address, Harry sighed, “Could we have some sandwiches and maybe some sweets? Also, check in on Hermione and our guests to see if they need anything.”

“Mistresses have already summoned tea tray,” the house elf snapped her fingers, and a fully prepared tea tray appeared on the suddenly normal tabletop, “Folly was just waiting for you to be summoning.”

“Thank you, Folly.” Harry replied, grabbing a sandwich, “If you could also get me a mild headache relief potion, I would be grateful.”

The house elf raised an eyebrow, and pulled five vials from her pocket, “if masters don’t want to be having headaches, they should be not drinking on empty stomachs.”

“You’re right; thank you, Folly.” Harry apologized graciously, ignoring Sirius’s look of betrayal as his glass vanished from his hand and the house elf popped away.

“They like you better than me.”

“Oh, get over it, you hairy mutt,” Severus replied, patting his shoulder and reaching for one of the vials, “Folly is ecstatic to serve you cause you could have had another Kretcher on your hands.”

Sirius shuddered, accepting the potion Severus handed over without a word, “no thanks, that was a horrible experience.”

“Indeed, now eat something,” Severus replied dryly, grabbing a sandwich, which he also passed to Sirius before taking one for himself.

“You know it’s weird seeing you too like this.” Remus said quietly, “I- my memories are all jumbled, but I vaguely recall knowing you, too, fixed things back then, but I never expected this level of comfort between you.”

“That event, we can also lay at Dumbledore’s feet,” Sirius replied bitterly, “and Peter’s.”

“Why?” Remus asked slowly.

“You’re talking about the night I tricked Sev into finding you in the Willow?”

Nodding, Remus picked up a sandwich but didn’t bite it as Sirius glanced at Severus, who offered a small nod, “It’s time, Siri. No more secrets.”

Sirius closed his eyes and blew out a breath, then gestured to Severus, “We’ve known we were soulmates since we were twelve years old.” He shrugged as Remus gapped at them and unbuckled the thick black bracket from around his wrist, revealing the gold band, a matching one appearing on Severus’s wrist. “The bands didn’t form until after we left school, but we knew, though, with the hostilities between our two houses and James’s attitude, we couldn’t share that with anyone. For most of the pranks we played, Severus and I worked out and discussed beforehand, except for the last two. Though it was what led to us not trusting Peter and James breaking free of Dumbledore’s control.” Sirius met Remus’s eyes, filled with regret, “we also knew how you felt about me, and it felt wrong to rub what we knew in your face.”

Remus blushed and averted his gaze, “it was a childhood crush. I’m over it.”

Harry seriously doubted that but didn’t say anything, letting Sirius talk. He was not surprised when he didn’t call out the lie. “Two weeks leading up to that scene in the courtyard, James had been acting odder than usual, and it was taking everything I had to deflect and deter him, his jealousy over Sev’s and Lily’s friendship being a driving force behind it. I suspect but don’t know for sure, but I think Peter masked his scent and followed me one night when I snuck from the dorms, where I met with Severus in secret. It sounds convoluted and almost farfetched, but I believe, and Severus agrees with me, that Peter put a Ficklius curse on James to get back at me for your crush by having him attack Severus. He then compounded that by urging James to go to Dumbledore about my possible betrayal to the “light,” where James was ordered to do what he must.” Sirius swallowed hard, “he placed me under imperious and told me to set Severus up to ‘prove my loyalty,’ and upon completion of my task I was set to forget. The only problem that no one took into consideration was my inheritance. When I came of age, Medea, our matriarch, was very thorough; when allowing blood into the family magic, she erased and restored all my memories, and I immediately reached out to Severus and explained what happened. It was at the same time James came into his title and had the same thing happen; all four of us sat down and discussed everything, which is when Lily helped us craft my bracelet; it links our bond and is tied to the family magic to protect us.”

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again before Sirius cracked a sad sort of smile and waved his wand, “I can offer pensive memories if you need proof.”

For a single moment, it looked like Remus was going to demand them, and then he shook his head.

Draco leaned forward with a frown, “Harry told me how Peter became the secret keeper, but I don’t understand how if none of you trusted him.”

It was Sirius’s turn to open his mouth and then snap it shut with a confused frown, “I don’t actually have an answer to that. In hindsight, it’s not something that should have been possible with James’s lordship and my work with the Unspeakables, though I do remember fighting with Croaker and demanding to leave.”

“It’s the Elder Wand.” Harry offered, munching on another sandwich, “Dumbledore was the owner.”

“Was?” Remus asked in confusion. “He lost it?”

“You’ve heard of the Elder Wand but not the three brothers?” Draco asked in confusion.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “I have a Mastery in defence; of course, I know of the Elder Wand; I made a study of its history as part of my thesis work; the last known rumoured owner was Gregorovitch, but it was never confirmed.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Grindelwald stole it, Dumbledore won it, and when I claimed my titles, it came home; even if I don’t have physical ownership of it yet, the wand will have stopped working for the Head Master properly.” He smiled slightly, “in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to start using a different wand given the protest my wand has probably been exhibiting.”

Harry rose to his feet, “Excuse me for a minute; I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll be coming back, right?” Sirius asked as Harry made his way to the door, “You still haven’t explained this bloody stupid ball thing I’m apparently hosting in less than ten days.”

Harry glanced hopefully at Draco, who snorted and shook his head, “Absolutely not, love. It’s your party, you can explain it.”

Harry frowned at his lover and sighed, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“How do you know it stopped working for him?” Remus called as he hit the door.

Harry twisted and then nodded to the book, “I’m the master of Death, Remus; it belongs to me.”

After using the bathroom, Harry took a detour, moving through the manor, searching for the girls and finding them in the solarium, chatting easily, glad that Hermione was relaxed in their company and moving on, heading back to the study.

When he reached the room, he found Remus bent over the children’s book, brow wrinkled in confusion, as Draco and Severus discussed something in a low tone, while Sirius lay across Severus’s lap, head turned towards the wall, eyes tracing the lines, though he did turn to look at Harry with a furrow, “Severus said we owed you an explanation for keeping with this charade when I escaped prison.”

“It would be nice, but I think I understand why now.” Harry replied carefully, “Given the careful way in which we’ve kept secrets from Dumbledore and suspecting he might be the actual target of the prophecy, it was safer for all involved until I reached my birthday.”

Sirius sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, “That was a major part of it, though never predicted any of this,” he waved a hand expressively, “I regret most of it though and wished we’d filled you in.”

Frowning, Harry crossed the room and sat down by Draco, who slipped a hand in his and sighed, “It would have been nice to have a silent supporter the last two years in the form of a physical person, and I know what I said this morning, but at the same time, in hindsight, I think it’s made me stronger. I may have only had a spiritual mentor for the last six months, but they’ve taught me what I needed to know, directed me if they couldn’t answer my questions, and provided a font of information not found in books.”

The room stilled at his statement, and he forced himself not to sigh again, knowing what was coming, and waited.

“Spiritual mentor?” Severus questioned, exchanging a look with Sirius, “Sirius has only had the title for a little over two months, Hadrian.”

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement but offered nothing, making both men narrow their eyes. Sirius leaned forward, “I’ve suspected you didn’t come up with your plans on your own, so who’s your ‘spiritual mentor, Harry?”

Arching an eyebrow, Harry snorted, “Who’s yours?”

Sirius frowned, “you know-stop, beating around the bush,”

Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed heavily, “Yours is Medea, the matriarch of your family line; who’s the head of my family line, Sirius?”

Face blank, Sirius looked at his soulmate, who face palmed, “You’re denser than a flubber worm; he’s talking about Slytherin, mutt, as in Salazar, one of the Founders of Hogwarts.”

“Oh….” Sirius said, blinking slowly before his eyes widened in shock, “Oh sweet Merlin, really?”

Harry laughed slightly, “Really, he’s nothing like you’d expect either. He was actually really proud I sorted into Gryffindor. Thought it was the grandest thing. He ran off to Godric, bragging that he finally got a true snake into his-“

Draco jerked beside him and glared at him, “You never said you met the rest of them!”

“I didn’t love. Calm down.” Harry patted his hand.

“Don’t patronize me, Hadrian.” Draco snapped, “You just implied that you did.”

“Love,” Harry grinned, “what did I say Salazar was?”

“A portrait.” Draco said, ignoring the rest of the room, “which stands to reason you know where the rest are.”

“No love, I said, his anima imago, it’s not like the portraits we know and see today, they’re memories, Salazar’s is legitimately real, meaning his spirit actually steps from inside the vale and crosses over,” Harry explained carefully, watching the shocked awe cross his soulmate's face.

“Holy f*ck! Really?” Draco demanded, eyes burning brightly. “Can I meet him?”

An affronted noise left Severus, and though his cheeks flushed when Harry looked at him, he replied stiffly, “I, too, would like the opportunity to meet him, if possible?”

“Sure, it’ll be possible, once school starts and things are semi-calm, I have a high suspicion it’s about to get chaotic.” Harry offered with a smile.

“Chaotic indeed,” Severus echoed, gaze boring into Harry, his voice suddenly serious, “I’m assuming it’s from your ancestor, where you learnt about that ritual too.”

“What ritual?” Sirius asked, confused as he looked between his husband and godson.

Severus kept his gaze on Harry, who couldn’t help but wince, “prifma libratum.”

“It wasn’t him specifically but in books in the study, written by Merlin.” Harry stated and shrugged his gaze unwaveringly, “Some were theory, some are the early basis for things we use today; some are forgotten or forbidden.”

“That sounds extremely dangerous, Harry.” Remus cautioned, voice filled with worry, “Merlin may have been the foundation of what became Avalon, but he was a dark wizard, it wouldn’t be smart to play around with any of his works.”

“By classification, you’re a dark creature. Sirius and Narcissa are dark; hell, the Weasley twins are dark, and so was my mom.” Harry turned a challenging glare on the werewolf, “Judging a person based on the magic residing in them is the first step towards becoming biased towards them.” He paused and then added, “And for the record, Merlin was grey, like Salazar and me.”

Remus winced but held his ground, “have you used any of the spells in the book?”

“Would it matter if I had?” Harry asked curiously and glanced between the three older adults; both Sirius and Severus remained impassive, but Remus seemed to have a panicked gleam in his eyes. “Technically, as Guardian of Avalon, my duty is to magic first and foremost. I’m not morally bound by the constraints the rest of society is.” He lifted a brow at the noise Remus made and then looked at Sirius, “It’s the same principle Unspeakables make when they vow to serve Avalon.”

Frowning, Remus glanced at Sirius, who shrugged, “Though I'm curious how he knows that’s, Harry’s right. When I became an Unspeakable, I made a vow to Avalon. Our duty is to magic first. Also, if you remember, I’ve already had one argument with Molly about the classifications of magic, and I won that.”

“Remus, were you ever told the Potter family motto?” Harry asked before Remus could respond, and waited for his old professor to shake his head, “We are all born in the shadow of Avalon, and to Avalon, we must all return.“ When it looked like Remus would argue, Harry sighed, “Would you consider ritual oaths dark if it rid the world of a great evil?”

Catching the twitch of Draco’s hand, he squeezed it reassuringly, gazing steadily at the werewolf.

“I—“ Remus paused and frowned, admitting slowly, “Given my status as a creature, I’m not magically compatible in rituals, so it’s not my area of expertise or something I’ve thought of, but it’s a fair question. Most rituals are based on blood, and education and history teach us that blood magic is anathema, so I don’t believe it’s wise to play around with them.”

“Is this indoctrination?” Harry asked the room at random and waved a hand, indicating it was a non-rhetorical question. "If it weren’t for blood magic, Sirius wouldn’t have an heir, and house Black would be considered dead even with a current lord sitting the seats.” Harry snapped, starting to get irritated. " Did you ever meet Artecus Black?”

“Yes, of course,” Remus answered, bewildered at the question.

“He was a strong, firm man, practically glowed with light magic?” Harry demanded and tilted his head as Remus nodded reluctantly, “Then why did Artecus lead the adoption ritual, Remus? Just because education taught us to shun doesn't make it wrong; it also wouldn’t have rendered Tom Riddle a squib either.”

Remus froze, eyes darting around the room, “what?”

“During the claiming of my titles, during my oath to magic, I demanded retribution from those of the bloodline that betrayed me. Tom Riddle is a distant cousin born of the youngest child from Cadmus’s line; if he had followed the founding principles of what Salazar believed, then he could have claimed the magic instead of being denied. Trust in the cycles of life; all things have their time, and all things come full circle; in Riddle’s quest for immortality, he broke that covenant and damned himself. I petitioned, magic granted; it’s why all his Death Eaters are dropping like flies; they’re being punished for breaking their own oaths to magic.”

At that, Remus had nothing to say, and he leaned back against the chair as Narcissa swept into the room, Hermione bounding in behind her, dragging a reluctant but smiling Pansy redirecting the conversation.

***

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Three days before the ball, the four teens crowded around one end of the breakfast table, devouring the papers and magazine delivered that morning, waiting for the last one, which appeared in the holder next to the buffet table.

Draco set the paper he was reading to the side and rose to his feet, moving to grab it. He stopped to stare at the front page, the burning nausea he’d been combatting all night, almost winning his silent battle.

Looking up, Harry half rose to his feet, “What is it love?”

Swallowing, Draco unfolded the paper and sat back down, the four of them crowding around the paper and the headline, with a warning underneath.

*The article below contains information that will disturb our readers. Please take heed and guard yourself and your family. This is not for the faint of heart.*

“Massacre and Ritual disturbance at oldest Circle?”

Earlier this morning officals were called to investigate a magical disturbance in Avebury, in one of our oldest and purest ritual circles, upon arrival they expected to have heavy resistance but encountered a massacre of untold proportions.

Of the half dozen bodies, only one was still alive, Lucius Malfoy, standing in the center, obviously leading the ritual. However, it was a Lucius Malfoy none would recognize, the absolute remorse and devastation was nothing upon the destroyed repeated whimpers of a once proud man. “Repentance.”

There is no official statement to say what the blood ritual was intended to do, but given that the other bodies included marked death eaters, it seems that the affliction suffered by those who have already passed or are in St.Mungo’s is more widespread than previously thought. Among the bodies, their identity has been confirmed as the seniors or last of their lines, Yaxley, the Carrows twins, Ludo Bagman, and Flint Senior.

There must have been a sense of desperation in the men and women included to petition magic to cure whatever was wrong, and it seems that magic has once again given answers; there is no forgiveness to be got. Croaker has this to say at the end of the statement: we are still investigating the anomalies ongoing in our society, and we ask our citizens to not panic; the Magic of Avalon is growing and changing, and we ask that you trust in that which gave us our gift. While repentance is right, sometimes the crimes committed are too much for redemption, as shown in this case.”

Feeling faint, Draco sat back, staring at the paper, jolting when Harry took his hand and squeezed. “Love?”

“He betrayed our covenant.” Draco whispered in shock, not even sure where the words were coming from, but knew they were right.

“How do you know?” Harry asked, making Draco blink and look at his soulmate, the slight glow to his soulmate making him swallow.

“Just as your duty is to Avalon herself, ours was to Avebury and the protection and purity of the circles.” Draco said, voice growing steadily stronger at the approval in the green eyes that had captivated him as an eleven year old boy in a dressmakers shop.

“Then take it back, purify it, and make it right.” The utter conviction in Harry’s tone, didn’t even make Draco question the order, and he knew that was what is was, but he followed it anyway.

“Don’t let go.” He whispered, turning in his chair to keep Harry in his sight.

“Never love,” Harry whispered brushing back a lock of hair that fell over his eyes, “I’ll anchor you where ever you go.”

Without another word, Draco clasped his hands around his soulmates and closed his eyes, feeling the warm shelter of Harry’s magic wrap around him, and opened his heart and mind.

No words passed his lips, but the battle he fought in his mind was vivid as he stormed past shadowy figures that tried to hinder him, fighting to reach the center, where he found a prism of shining shields and knew instinctively that it was his for the taking. With a deep breath, he reached out and touched the shield, absorbing it. He heard the excited babble of voices explode in his mind, and the relief, love, and acceptance filled him completely. This was his family, his true descendants, the ones barricaded from their purpose and blocked from the family magic. The others, those responsible for the blockade, screamed their fury behind him, but he turned, lifting his chin in a challenge and drawing on Harry’s strength, cut them down, ripping them from their place and casting them aside.

It was with a shudder he opened his eyes, silver meeting green, the love that burned in them, making his burn with unshed tears. “They loved me, even though they were blocked from accepting me.”

“Did you learn why?” The question made Draco pause, eyes unfocused as if searching for the answer.

“My great-great grandfather hate Veela’s and barred them from the family, but the duties and responsibilities are supposed to be carried by a Veela of the blood,” Draco responded through numb lips.

“And those responsible?” Harry asked with fire in his eyes.

“Render to ash,“ starting to shake, Draco stared into Harry’s eyes, “I don’t understand, what did I do?”

Face softening, Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, rubbing his thumb under his eyes, then raised Draco’s right hand with his other, caressing the ring that had appeared on his finger. “You fought and won your family title, Lord Malfoy, Consort of Warwick.”

“But I was cast out and disowned,” Draco whispered, the tears breaking free.

“Yeah, By the ones who feared you, but the ones left took you back and accepted you as the rightful lord, Draco,” Harry whispered softly, ignoring the commotion that Draco was only partially aware of at the entrance to the breakfast parlour. “You have what it takes to correct the wrongs committed by the guilty and make your name great again, and I’ll fight to make it happen.”

Leaning his head against his soulmate's shoulder, Draco lost himself to his emotions, the only tether he had gathering him close, whispering soft words of reassurance, and it was with a gentle press of lips to his forehead that followed him into a deep sleep.

When Draco woke again, his mother's floral scent invaded his senses, and the immediate rush of love echoed through the bond, letting him know that even though Harry wasn’t there physically, he wasn’t far from his thoughts.

Blinking open his eyes, Draco glanced around the room, a little surprised he was in the study and not his and Harry’s rooms, both having moved into the Heir’s suite.

“Why here?” His voice cracked, and he licked his dry lips, nodding in thanks as his mother helped him take a sip of water.

“Hadrian thought you might like the comfort of the wall to confirm your placement.” Narcissa nodded towards the wall, eyes wide, voice softening with sadness, “Magic is wonderful yet often horrible when used incorrectly, I’m proud you assumed the responsibility to fix what the ancestors did. I’m ashamed to say I never even noticed Armand wasn’t in the family bond after our marriage ritual was complete.”

“Did you figure out who was the cause?” Draco asked, not willing to look at the wall just yet.

“Yes, Nicoli, who would have been Abraxas's Grandfather, fell in love and had a one-sided bond with a woman named Madeline Kentcel, who was a full Veela and spy for Napoleon. She publicly shamed him, and in retaliation, he condemned the family, and he felt his only atonement was to banish the blood of any past or potential Veela into the family line.” Narcissa's voice held a hint of disdain, “Lucius was likely severely punished for daring to approach my parents with the idea of an alliance given the Black’s descendants from full-blooded Veela blood on both sides. The first branch through Medea, she married the man Ignos, who is considered the founder of the family even if the power comes from her, and then later on, through a bastard, many great-grand-daughter of Slytherin.” She sighed and sat back into the embrace of the chair, “anyway the wall updated, removing those guilty like your father attempted to do to you.”

Draco frowned, “Lucius might have donated some of the genetic makeup in the creation of me, but he was never a father.”

“I know, my Dragon, and I’m sorry I allowed you to suffer as you did,” Narcissa responded sadly, “you deserve the world, and I did nothing to really protect you.”

Keeping his first reaction behind his teeth, Draco reached across the small place that divided them and took her hands. "You did when it mattered, mum. The choices you made allowed me to bond with Harry, and that—“ he swallowed and met his soulmate's eyes as Harry appeared at the door. That means more than anything in the world.”

An answering smile tugged at Harry’s lips as he pushed off the frame, body moving fluidly, exhibiting a confidence that Draco suspected was the most comfortable he’d ever seen his soulmate be.

It was gratifying and a huge turn-on that it was because of him, but he buried that reaction behind a veneer of calm he knew didn’t fool Harry as he lifted his chin in a silent challenge, “Hadrian?”

Smirking, Harry slid onto the couch beside him, pressing a kiss to his head, and wordlessly held out the gossip magazine open to a page, “Hermione found it.”

Draco hesitated for only a second, before snatching the magazine, noting the laughter dancing in Harry’s green eyes, smoothing the page as he bent his head to read.

The Warwick Conundrum?

Despite this author's best efforts, I’ve been forced to admit defeat, something I never thought I’d say in my seventy-five-year career. Yet, it seems the conundrum and mystery surrounding the new Duke of Warwick's real identity will remain just that until his first public appearance, which is set to be on August 15.

Once again, this author has been unable to determine where or when that will be but has been promised an exclusive interview with the Duke, his consort and soulmate, of which no part of that person has been whispered. In fact, until receiving the letter offering the interview, this author didn’t even know he was already married.

I predict no matter how old this mysterious person turns out to be, witches worldwide will wear mourning for failing to capture the attention of the new Duke.

One thing that has puzzled this author and made me question recent events is the appearance of the new Duke; given the afflictions suffered by ‘certain’ members of high society, it makes me wonder if they are, in fact, responsible? With the recent news in the Prophet concerning the desecration at the Circle of Avebury, if it was a ritual punishment enacted by the new Duke, though admittedly, this author is not sure how it would be completed, as it is not my area of expertise. If it is the new Duke’s work, I, for one, will say with unreserved joy a bittersweet thanks; seeing the name of the one responsible for the death of my only grandson in the paper days after the title was claimed means more than anything I’ve ever accomplished in my life and career.

Draco lifted his head, mouth gaping, and flushed at the chuckle that left his soulmate. " Did you do this?”

“No,” Harry admitted with a laugh. "Apparently, that was all Pansy. Madame Issac has been her favourite gossip columnist since she could remember and knows the history surrounding the death of her grandson during Riddle’s first reign. One of the Lestrange brothers was responsible for his death, but given the weakened state of the wizarding world and the whispers of Dumbledore, no one was ready to press for the death penalty or kiss, no matter the crimes previously committed.”

He nodded to the magazine again, “flip it over.”

Confused, Draco complied, mouth dropping open at the headline.

“Longbottom’s Mysteriously Cured?

The world may remember the attack on Frank and Alice Longbottom on November 1, 1981, just a day after He Who Must Not Be Named, was defeated by Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

The Longbottom’s were attacked with the belief that they would lead to the location of the Dark Lord, or Harry Potter, as they were his Godparents. Regrettably, they refused to divulge any information before they were tortured into insanity. Obviously, yet somewhat sadly, they had better morals than the Potter’s secret keeper, who turned out to be Peter Pettigrew (turn to page 19 for more information on The Life of the Rat Betrayer.)

The people responsible were Bellatrix Lestrange(deceased May 1996), her husband and his brothers(deceased August 3, 1996), and Barty Crouch Jr.(June 1995).

With the rumours and speculation that have abounded since the affliction has run rampant throughout the wizarding society, this bit was missed in the excitement, but it appears that within 24 hours of the two remaining brothers' deaths, both Frank and Alice Longbottom have had marked improvements, though no confirmation has been provided by either the family or the hospital.

We hope here at Witch Weekly that if the Longbottoms have been cured of their state, we wish them and their family continued good health.”

“I never knew.” Draco admitted, shaken, “Longbottom never breathed a word at school.”

“I found out accidentally, but Neville was always the odd one out, even in Gryffindor. It wasn’t until this year that he came into his own. He was phenomenal at the ministry, and it made me infinitely proud to call him a friend.” Harry replied and glanced at the magazine. “I think he claimed the title from his dad on his birthday. Between that and what I did, I think it was enough to circumvent the curse.”

Draco and Narcissa both paused at that and exchanged wary looks. " You think it's a curse and not a medical medley?”

Brow creasing in concentration, Harry shrugged, “Yes? I don’t know how to explain it, but I think it was a rebound hexad split, resulting in a merger of personalities from each person, which resulted in the effects we saw.”

Draco frowned and shook his head, completely lost. “I don’t understand. Who do you think was responsible? Because no matter how deranged the Death Eaters were, I don’t think they had the knowledge to pull something like that off or the power corrupted by Riddle as they were.”

“Unfortunately, in this case, I think it was the Longbottoms who were the likely cause; they weren’t encumbered by Riddle, had the power and motivation as a soul-bonded couple, along with the knowledge.” He swallowed roughly and glanced away. “My mother and Alice spent years researching and testing new spells, and there are notes in my mother’s journal that I found in the vaults with their initial thought process.”

“That’s…. Wow, that’s the kind of dark magic that’s horrifying, Harry.” Draco breathed, unsure what else to say, “Will you ever say anything?”

“I know my mother’s magic was dark, and while people might blame her for the spell work itself, Alice is just as guilty for the creation and casting, considering my mother was already dead at that point. As for speaking of it? Not publicly, but if the Longbottoms are cured, I will discuss it with them; I believe Neville and I deserve to know the truth of the situation.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Draco blew out a breath. "As long as you don’t blame yourself, please, you’re not responsible for other people's past, present, or future actions.”

A flicker of a smile teased the corner of Harry’s face before it fell, head leaning against Draco’s shoulder, eyes closing when Draco ran a hand through his hair, “I know that, Dragon, but it doesn’t mean others won’t hold me to the same standard.”

Draco could only sigh and kiss the top of Harry’s head, knowing his soulmate spoke only the truth.

****

In a small but neat cottage, an old bitter man glared hatefully at the collection of newspapers. He’d thought he had time, his plan foul-proof. He’d known the locations of the Horcrux for years, yet, given the events of the last few weeks in the revelation of this unknown Duke, he’d made the journey to check on them and had been blind-sided by the disappearance of two, both related to Salazar Slytherin.

The resulting panic had almost ruined everything, and he held onto his temper by the skin of his teeth, apperating back to this shack to pursue his correspondents in the hopes his threats, bribery or sleuthing had revealed the identity of this mysterious Duke. He just had to eliminate the man so his nemesis could assume his path to restore Albus to his rightful position, and everything would be fine. Perfect even, yet

there was nothing but the news showcasing the crumbling of his carefully crafted plans and the unravelling of decades of work, which infuriated him. He had no idea how this was possible, but it was happening in real-time.

With a sigh, he attempted to banish the papers into the fireplace with a flick of his wand and glared at it when it bucked in his hands, refusing his command. The knowledge that his wand had stopped working tickled something in the back of his mind, making his gut tighten with sudden nerves.

There were only several reasons for the Elder Wand to stop working for him. Still, the most logical seemed impossible when he knew Harry was tucked safely away in Surrey, surrounded by his spells and enhancements meant to ensure the boys continued survival, immersed in the hate and blind eye his aunt exhibited.

Well, it was no matter. Rising, Albus swept the papers into the fireplace and strolled from the room. He had places to be, and one of those happened to be in collecting Harry. He needed the boy to be a draw to get the fool Slughorn back into the school, the process one more step into testing Harry to make sure he was ready.

It was Harry’s destiny, prophesied and all, to defeat the Dark Lord. If Albus refused to acknowledge that it wasn't about Tom Riddle, it proved how far the broken and bitter old man had fallen into senility believing his own lies.

Dusk had settled over the small town as Albus apparated outside the wards and sniffled in disdain at the cul-de-sac, the perfect rows of cookie-cutter houses an affront to his sensibilities even after all these years. Believing, as his father had all those years ago, that the rigid structural system muggles had imposed on the natural world was ruinous to the magical community. Magic was meant to be fluid and constantly moving, yet the taller the buildings, the more constrained the magic became. He vividly remembered the rants Percival Dumbledore would have against muggles and the filth they inflicted on the world, and then parroting them as if they were gospel. Unknowing or caring how his mother would flinch but not say anything during them and look at him with eyes of disappointment before scurrying from the room with a hint of fear filling them.

It was hard when Adriana died; the rage Albus had felt against the three boys only dimmed and corralled when Percival hunted them down like sport, giving the belief that his hatred was justified. Albus wasn’t sure which way his father would have reacted to the two world wars and the development of nuclear bombs; it could have either been unrelenting rage that they were destroying the planet or joyous amusem*nt that so many died.

The move to Godric’s Hallow had been a desperate attempt to separate himself from the legacy his father left, knowing it wouldn’t serve him for his future plans, those plans requiring a subtly that would never be suspected. He just had to wait until his father died to claim the lordship. Even though his father had been guilty and sentenced to life in prison, the title hadn’t been stripped, which Albus hadn’t understood until Percival died, and his rage had been overwhelming.

To find out that his mother had been a muggle-born had been soul-shattering. No matter the airs his mother had exhibited, she never seemed to understand precisely what Percival had given up for her when he fell in love with her because the one stipulation in the family archives was the Pure-Blood status of the Lord, watching the title die due to extinction had caused Albus to flee, burying himself in his studies, until his mother died, leaving him saddle with the burden his little sister was.

Shaking the memories from his head, Albus disillusioned himself and strolled down the street, keeping watch for any muggles. He sneered disdainfully at the Squib's home, the army of cats glaring at him hatefully as he strolled by.

He was so distracted by thoughts of his parents he didn’t even notice the shimmering ward appeared before him, and he sucked in sharp pain filled breath at the sensation of foreign magic sizzling along his skin.

It made him freeze, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to examine the spell's work. Then, in horrified disbelief, he watched as it unravelled at the first conscious touch, unfurling like a flower before it dissipated in a little burst he couldn't track or trace.

Standing there stunned, mind racing, Albus desperately racked the area looking for a signature, anything to hint at who the wizard was. He was left with a seething mass of bewilderment. The single smidge of magic left behind felt deliberate, like a threat and challenge all rolled into one, and it wasn’t one he knew or recognized. He knew it was powerful, the taste of it addictive and the envy it left behind a thought he shoved aside, tried to get a read on anything about it, and received nothing but the knowledge it was old, far older than anything he knew. That knowledge sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Albus quickly hurried his steps to Number 4 Private Drive; he needed to collect Harry and be on their way, just in case the unknown was still watching because Albus knew he couldn’t hope to compete with them.

***

Miles away, Harry’s eyes snapped open from where he lay with his head in Draco’s lap, the four teens lounging in the study and sat up slowly, body tense and alert.

Drawing his wand, he wordlessly called up his patronus, the expected stag not appearing. Something shifted in his stomach as he gazed into the glittering eyes of the Grim and reached out a hand, touching the snout with tears in his eyes, before clearing his throat, “Get dad, tell him ‘HE’ knows, please.”

Padfoot nodded and loped through the door, leaving a stunned silence behind. The two Slytherins stared at him, mouth agape, leaving it to Hermione to speak softly, “Harry?”

Harry shook his head, unable to answer under the relentless pounding in his chest, terrified if he voiced anything before Sirius arrived, he wouldn’t do anything but cry.

The sorrow he felt was overlaid by guilt that his patronus had changed from his father’s animagus to Sirius’s. Though he wasn’t as surprised as he should be, he knew from his reading that it was possible; it just wasn’t something he expected.

Harry was so lost in thought that he jumped when Draco squeezed his hand, and vaguely, he heard Hermione’s voice over the ringing in his ears, hurriedly explaining the issue.

A second later, Sirius ran into the room, stumbling to a stop, breathing hard, eyes wide as Harry stood, tears blurring his eyes and whispered. “Are you mad?”

“Oh, pup, no, never. It’s an honour.” Sirius whispered back firmly and held out his arms.

Stumbling forward, Harry landed in them, burrowing into the hidden strength of Sirius’s hold, “I didn’t know; I would have-“

Sirius’s hand tightened in his hair, and the firm press of his lips against the top of his head stopped the flow of words: " Hush, it’s not wrong, Harry. James would understand and be so unbelievably proud, too, given that he never managed to produce a corporal form.”

Confused, Harry pulled back, “But I thought it was a stag, too?”

Shrugging, Sirius sighed, “He suspected it was based on his animagus form but could never confirm it.”

“Oh….” Harry whispered, wiping his face.

He flushed slightly as Sirius tsked softly and held out a handkerchief, “We can talk about it later if you need, but you said he knew?”

Confused, Harry blinked and remembered why he’d called Sirius in the first place, “Oh, yeah, Dumbledore crossed the wards I placed at Private Drive. I expect he’ll-“

The wall lit up instantly. The echo of a door slamming opening, followed by an enraged bellow of Harry’s name, cut him off.

It woke the portrait in the hall, Walburga's raving overlapping Albus’s shouting as he stalked through the house. He slashed his wand viscously toward the portrait and snarled in growing rage when nothing happened, “Shut up, you hag!”

“Filthy half-blood, sins of the Father darken your soul.”

“Albus!” Molly’s voice came hurrying from outside the scene of Albus facing off against the portrait, hand on her chest. "Sweet Merlin, you terrified us. What's happened?”

“Where’s Harry?” Albus demanded, ignoring her comment.

“Where’s Harry?” Molly asked in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore’s eye twitched as he stared straight into Molly’s eyes, “are you telling me Harry’s not here?”

“No, Albus, I swear. I’ve done everything you said.“ Molly assured the wizard, “No one’s been in contact with Harry since the train, I promise.”

The twitch became more pronounced, and Albus drew in a deep breath, “Where’s Sirius?”

Frowning, Molly raised her hands fretfully. “Albus, dear, are you alright? You sent Sirius off on that mission last meeting, remember?”

Without answering, Albus stalked towards the stairs, muttering under his breath, “Harry has to be here, somewhere, he can’t- ruins my plans.”

As soon as he made it halfway up the stairs, the house rumbled. The stairs shifted underneath his feet, turning into a slide, sending the old wizard sliding down to land in an inelegant heap on the floor.

A second later, the closet hall burst open, pelleting the victims with everything inside. Old moth-eaten coats, hats, mittens, forgotten umbrellas, and children’s toys chased the two down the hall towards the parlour. The door vanished completely to the shocked shouts inside the room, Molly bounced off the wall, banging into the other, eyes terrified as the kitchen door started banging incessantly, and the echo of flames crackling echoed from the room, compounded by the banging and terrified screaming into the walled off room.

Snarling with rage, Albus raised his wand and seemed to freeze, eyes widening as he struggled to breathe.

Harry turned to look at Sirius, who grinned wickedly and disappeared with a near silent crack, appearing a second later in a suddenly calm home, the door in the study reappearing and a feral look of outrage on his face that silenced the shrieking, “what the f*ck are you doing to my home?”

Albus’s rage didn’t decrease, but he stared warily at Sirius, clearly understanding something, as he struggled to appear calm, drawing in several steadying breaths, “It was a misunderstanding, Sirius.”

“This was no misunderstanding. You clearly came in with the intent to harm, Albus. The house wouldn’t have reacted the way she did otherwise.”

Molly chuckled nervously. "You’re saying that like the house is alive; you realize that, right?”

“The house is sentient, Molly,” Sirius replied flatly, folding his arms as the woman sent a questioning frown towards Albus. Sirius snorted in amusem*nt and shook his head, “let me explain to you the way ancient houses work, Mrs.Weasley,”

“I know how the Sacred Twenty-Eight works, Sirius Black; my family is one.” Molly snapped heatedly.

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight is sh*t. It’s a mockery of what an ancient house means. The Prewett’s have only been landed since 1423; the Blacks can count ancestors back thousands of years, considering Medea, our matriarch, was born in the 5th century BC.” Sirius replied dryly, amusem*nt dancing in his eyes as Molly gaped at him. “My family is one of the oldest families still in existence in the UK; we fought the Roman and Saxon invasions and have held the Islington title in some form or another since 625, starting with Baron; our riches come from the very foundation of what makes Britain, Britain. It was my ancestor who was responsible for the muggle monarchy adopting our system of titling nobility-“

Albus cleared his throat. "While your history lesson is diverting, and we can certainly discuss it later, we have more pressing matters. Do you know where Harry is?”

“Do I know where my godson is?” Sirius asked slowly, body going ridge, “Are you suggesting you lost him, Albus?”

A frustrated huff escaped Albus, and he snapped, “This is serious.”

“I know, I am.” Sirius deadpanned, expression blank.

“Black!” Dumbledore growled and flinched as the house shook threateningly.

Sirius smiled, touched the ring that appeared on his hand, and lifted his chin as they gapped at his change of appearance, “I’d be careful with what you decide to do next; the house won’t take kindly to you threatening Islington.”

There was a stunned silence, and Albus’s face was filled with horror. "What have you done?”

A slow smile crossed Sirius’s face, and he gave a mock bow, “What you’ve failed to do, Albus, and what I should have done years ago. Protect my godson,” he paused and then titled his head, and held up two pearl coloured envelopes, “and Merlin only knows why, but he wishes to invite you to celebrate with him in two days, where we have hundreds of guest arriving to introduce him to society as the last Scion of House Potter.” He glanced at Molly and her children, “You may stay in my home, but remember you’re guests, and mind your manners while you reside here; she lets me know everything.” He turned to stare straight at Ginny, who paled rapidly and then apparated from the room, leaving a stunned silence.

Sirius reappeared in the study, laughing uproariously.

Harry shushed him as Albus approached the envelope like it would explode in front of him, his hand shaking as he bent to pick up one.

The sound of the envelope opening was loud in the parlour's silence. Blood drained from Dumbledore’s face as he read the paper inside. Without a word to anyone, he stuffed it inside his robes and strolled from the room, the slamming of the door making everyone jump.

It took Molly another five minutes to move forward. Hesitantly summoning the remaining envelope to her hand, Ron and Ginny crowing around her as she read it out loud.

“You are cordially invited to a formal ball on August 15 by Narcissa Black, cousin to the Earl of Islington and hostess for the evening, as he introduced his adopted son and Heir, the last Scion of House Potter.

The receiving line starts at 9 pm.

RSVP by pressing your wands to this invitation. The invite will act as a port key the night of the ball and allow you to pass through the gates. Dverger War Mages will provide security.

Lady Narcissa Black-Malfoy

“Oh dear Merlin, what is he playing at?” Molly breathed, staring at the invite as if it would bite her.

The conflicting expressions that crossed the three faces were surreal. It should have alarmed Harry at Ginny’s greed. Yet, maybe given the contract Draco and him had signed layering on one more protection, it was Ron's unfamiliar expression that caused a twisting sensation in Harry’s stomach; it was pained and revolted and filled with grief, yet Harry didn’t know what to do with it when a single tear slid down his former best-friends face as Ron quickly brushed it away and left the room.

*****

The morning of the ball dawned bright and beautiful, though, in Draco’s opinion, he shouldn’t have known that. The nerves rolling off his soulmate disturbed his sleep, and he opened blurry eyes to watch Harry pace in their suite of rooms. “What’s wrong?”

Harry jumped and turned to him, face a conflicting mass of emotions that he struggled to hide. He shrugged and turned away, resuming his pacing.

Sighing sadly, Draco sat up and glanced out the window, scowling at the first rays of the sunrise on the horizon. He loved his husband and soulmate with everything he was, but pre-dawn angst was almost too much. Yet, he crawled from the bed and intercepted Harry’s pacing by blocking his path and grabbing his hands. “What is it love?”

Sighing, Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “Something Pansy said last night, after the last view Grimmauld showed us.”

Draco made a face, thinking back to last night. He still did not understand why the house had shown Ron sitting in the parlour, bawling like his life was over, sweating but white as a ghost and shaking like a leaf as he dry heaved into a bucket. “What did she say?”

“She made the off comment that it reminded her of her father when he stopped taking Opium,“ Harry muttered, eyes sliding closed, “she said watching Ron was like watching her father suffer through withdrawal. Then I got distracted when we went off on a tangent about the difference in historical truths on the opium trade.”

Draco blinked slowly, body stilling in understanding, and focused on the vital part of Harry’s statement, tabling the opium trade for another conversation. “you think Weasley’s being drugged? By who?”

Helplessly, Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, shrugging his shoulders. " I don’t know, but…” he trailed off and swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed when Draco cupped his cheek.

“You think it’s his sister, don’t you?” He asked softly.

“I don’t want to, but yeah.” Harry huffed, “Both of them had been acting strange for weeks after the ministry event, and they didn’t get any better, according to Hermione, when they moved into Sirius’s home. In fact, it got oddly worse and random; there would be days or periods where Ron was fine, normal even, but then he’d do a 180° and flip, become irritable or moody. She never knew what to expect on any given interaction.”

Dazed, Draco could only shake his head and ask, “Where would she even get access to drugs like that?”

Harry licked his lips, “what if it’s not the actual drug?”

It took a second for Draco to understand the implication, “you think she’s controlling him?”

“And maybe Molly,” Harry added and then explained at Draco’s baffled expression. “I’ve spent the night reviewing the scenes you’ve described and watched, and I noticed Molly’s more jittery than normal. Likes she’s trying to follow instructions but fight them simultaneously, like that scene with the book Hermione planted? It was conflicting reactions; she was genuinely horrified to realize Ginny might not be a virgin before the implications of the fake contract kicked in. Her concern was so real she didn’t protest Hermione leaving and only lamented the loss after the fact.” He paused and sank into a chair when Draco backed him into one, “Also, I realized something about the locket, the one that was a Horcrux. I recognized it.”

Frowning, Draco sat across from him, “What do you mean? From a book or something?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. "Last year, I spent time at Grimmauld Place. Kretcher, a house elf, guarded it with his life, so I summoned him this morning and asked about it.” Harry ran a hand down his face. "His reaction upon seeing it confirmed I was right. He was ecstatically happy to see it was fixed and explained that the Regulus Black had swapped the real one with a fake one when he defected from Riddle’s side.”

Feeling twenty steps behind his soulmate's thought process and wishing he was dreaming, Draco sighed and asked, “Love, what do Ron and the amulet have to do with one another?”

“Kretcher said he could hear it whispering sometimes, and the evil it radiated started to infect the house, making it harder for him to do his job. What if Ron was being influenced by it, too?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s something to discuss with Sirius,” Draco finally said, realizing he’d been silent for too long.

“Yeah, I know, I started to but quickly changed my mind.” Harry muttered and then flushed when Draco raised an eyebrow, “Let’s just say that I’m glad the Heir’s suite is in the opposite wing.”

“Oh, ew. why would you tell me that?” Draco whined and then shot a wordless stinging hex when Harry laughed, “I liked the ignorance, you git.”

Only Remus was at breakfast. The werewolf had stayed at the manor, unwilling to go anywhere Albus might get him. He was currently undergoing a cleansing regimen crafted by Severus to gently expel the decades-long use of Wolfsbane from his system, and even though it had only been a few weeks, he looked better than he had ever looked.

Draco filled his and Harry's plates, knowing his soulmate would probably not eat if he wasn’t forced, and set the plate in front of him. He gave him a pointed look when Harry made a face but gamely picked up his fork and glanced at Remus: " Are there any drugs, potions, or plants that act like Imperious, and is that something that can be checked for if someone is currently under it?”

The werewolf jerked his head up in surprise, his mouth falling open in shock at Harry’s expectant expression, which proved it was a legitimate question: “What? Why?”

“Ron’s behaviour,” Harry offered and then explained what Pansy had said about his behaviour, which sounded like drug withdrawal.

Blowing out a breath, Remus dropped his head, hand fisting on the table. “I’m sure Severus could answer alternative sources, but I don’t know. As for spell work, some other minor curses or hexes could, for a limited time, alter someone’s behaviour, but even in the case of the Imperius, you have to have cause to perform the test, and suspicion won’t cut it.”

“So Ron would have to break the law first?” Harry demanded, bewildered.

Offering an apologetic grimace, Remus nodded, “After the first war ended, Albus did a lot of work within the Wizengamot, saying everyone was remediable, and healing can’t happen with baseless accusations.” He licked his lips, “It’s also not illegal for family members to provide potions to family members no matter what that potion is, unless, of course, it results in death, though the law is lax on that too, considering it would be a mid-demeanour and considered accidental.”

“Merlin,” Draco breathed involuntarily, “are you serious?” At Remus’s nod, Draco demanded, “How the f*ck did any of this pass?”

A flush crossed Remus’s face, and he shrugged uncomfortably: "As someone who was blindly led by Albus for over two decades, it’s easy to see now that he’s purposefully overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. He puts this air of grandfatherly concern that makes people immediately trust him.”

Harry frowned, setting his fork down, “can you hide your aura?”

At Remus's blank look, one Draco knew was on his own face, Harry sighed, “Wizarding society has an automatic divide and assumption on the classification of a person's magic. It's etched into their aura, and depending on the strength of their own inner gift, it's visible if you know what to look for. Yet, I just realized I’ve never seen Dumbledore’s or Ginny’s.”

“You can see people’s auras?” Remus asked in a choked voice.

“Well, yeah, it’s not hard,” Harry replied with a frown, glancing between the werewolf and his soulmate, who looked shocked. "You know this, Draco. It’s how I can tell the type of magic someone has. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Draco swallowed, “I-I never questioned how you knew because seeing auras is as rare as being a Parselmouth, love.”

“Oh,” Harry whispered, sinking into his chair with a sigh.

Draco nudged his shoulder and nodded to his plate, making Harry huff but sit up and pick up his fork.

Remus tilted his head, “you said you can’t see Albus’s aura?”

Harry finished his mouthful of eggs, shaking his head: “No, he’s too bright, always twinkling like his eyes; he’s purposefully obscuring it. I think the only reason people don’t question it is the presence of Fawkes, a pure creature, assuming that if he has a Phoenix, he couldn’t be anything but good.”

Disgruntled Remus huffed and took a too-large gulp of tea, “and Ginny?”

“Given Ginny’s age, I’ve always dismissed it, assuming she hadn’t fully matured, but what if her time in the Chamber and Riddle’s thrall taught her to hide it?”

“Is it possible she found the study?” Remus asked, eyes wary, “the book you described indicates there could be much more questionable relics inside.”

“She didn’t. I was the first person since Salazar died to enter,” he paused and swallowed. "He technically died in the chamber. After the other founders died, the fighting and suspicion he was under were tearing apart society, so he finished his self-portrait, cast the spell, and stepped over willingly, hoping it would provide peace.”

The sadness in Harry’s voice made Draco swallow and reach out to squeeze his soulmate's hand.

Remus cleared his throat, “I don’t know what to say, Harry, but once again, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” He offered a sad sort of smile, “I’ll see what I can find in the law books to see if there is something we can do to confirm and test Ron, but it’s going to take time, so the only advice I can offer is to be careful.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied glumly, “because if he is being influenced, I can’t trust him, I know. It’s just-“ he sighed, “it’s so hard. I know he can be an ass, but he was my first friend, and I guess I’m terrified to find out none of it was real.”

Draco jerked as if dying, “you think he’s been influenced all along?”

“I don’t know, but I have to question it. It’s not Ron’s fault if he was, and I know that, but some of his more questionable traits have always bothered me, and vice versa. He genuinely hates my fame and tries to hide it, but he loathes it and almost relishes in the distrust people toss my way; it makes me wonder why either of us stayed.”

“Eat your breakfast, Harry,” Draco ordered, horrified to feel sorry for both of them. He knew what it was like to make ‘friends’ with people you usually wouldn’t want to associate with; being influenced to stay friends with someone against your will was probably the worst sort of curse that made it worse.

“Why did you never say anything, Harry?” Remus asked quietly.

“Appearances, mostly.” He muttered, “In hindsight, during the fourth year, it’s obvious now he was fighting something; Ron was so pissed about my entry into the tournament that he refused to listen to reason and ignored me until after the first test, and then immediately did a 180°.”

“Is it possible you were being influenced, too?” Draco asked softly and then held a hand to hold Harry’s outburst off. "Listen, I’m not saying it to make you doubt everything, but looking objectively at everything that’s happened—our animosity, Uncle Sev’s and Remus’s behaviour—it’s all connected.”

“Asking the hat to put me in Gryffindor,” Harry added petulantly, huffing a laugh at Draco’s expression. "The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, and I refused.”

“Hadrian!” Draco slapped his chest, “You stupid bloody prat! We could have been friends for years, you idiot.”

Snorting, Harry shrugged, “probably would have found the Chamber before Keme was woken too.”

“Are you…. Merlin,” Draco’s eyes widened in understanding, “if you found it first, you could have dispelled whatever Riddle put on her.”

Nodding, Harry finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away, grimacing as his morning dosage of potions appeared beside his drink. “If I’d known or understood more about the magic, I could probably have saved her instead of having to kill her.”

Snorting in exasperation and fondness, Draco reached up, tucking a lock of hair that fell over Harry’s eyes and nodded to the potions, “Drink your potions before you make me cry over the death of a basilisk that’s been dead for four years.”

“Do I have to?” Harry asked with a little whine but reached out and grabbed the first one, knocking it back with a shudder of revolution.

“You do because then we have dance lessons in the ballroom,” Draco replied seriously, lifting and finishing the last of his tea.

Looking at Remus, he set his cup down, “If you’re still here when the girls wake up, could you direct them to the ballroom?”

“Of course, though I suspect Hermione knows Harry's schedule better than he does,” Remus replied absently and summoned the first papers to appear in the tray holder, the headline visible across the front page.

“Earl of Islington hosting ball tonight. Harry Potter, Baron Ignis?”

Remus paused, unfolding it and glanced between the two. "Do you wish to read it first?”

Harry shook his head, setting down the last potion, and shoved his chair back, “No, the girls can give me the highlights; I want to go dance with my husband without being gawked at.”

Draco blushed at Harry’s words but accepted the hand that pulled him from his chair and allowed himself to be led from the room.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Draco’s head thunked against the bathroom wall, a groan echoing around the steam-filled room as Harry pressed a kiss to his stomach and rose to his feet, still licking his lips. “You taste phenomenal, love.”

“And you’re unnaturally good at that.” Draco shuddered as a towel wrapped around his waist, “Merlin, how are you so good at that?”

“I’m a sixteen-year-old teen. I’m surprised I can function with you invading my thoughts.” Harry admitted, nuzzling the side of Draco’s neck.

For a single second, Draco leaned into it and then jerked back in horror, feeling Harry’s teeth scrape his skin. "Don’t even think about it, Potter! You’re not marking me like some barbarian before the ball. Are you crazy?”

Huffing a pout, Harry pulled off, “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Because your ring on my hand and the band around my wrist don’t already indicate that?” Draco asked sarcastically. Then he pushed Harry’s weight off of him and moved to stand in front of the skin, shivering as Harry plastered himself to Draco’s bare back. “We have to get ready, love.”

“I know,” Harry admitted, pressing a kiss to Draco’s neck, “but you’re an inspiration standing there like that.”

Draco turned in his soulmate's arms cutting him off with a heated kiss, as Harry opened his mouth to continue. Breathessley he pulled back, helplessly leaning for to peak his lips before whispering against them, “I love you, but if you don’t stop talking, we’re going to be more than fashionably late, and I’d never live down the shame. My mother would never forgive me, and we’d miss the reaction from Dumbledore.”

A heavy sigh escaped Harry, and he stepped back, letting Draco turn around again, “Yeah and whatever Riddle has planned.”

“You really think he’s going to show?” Draco asked, meeting Harry’s eyes in the mirror.

Unwillingly, Harry nodded and admitted softly, “Magic left just enough for him to find me, along with the idea he needs to confront me.” He dropped his head, hiding his face in Draco’s shoulder, “It’s why I suggested the Dverger as security; between him and Dumbledore, they’re the one wildcard neither will know how to combat and won’t be willing to aggravate.”

Grinning, Draco turned his head, pressing a kiss against the silky hair tickling his cheek. "Positively, Slytherin, love, I'm so proud of you.”

Chuckling softly, Harry squeezed his hips, lifted his head to kiss Draco’s lips, and then stepped back. "The best snake is one you don’t see coming, amor.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Your accent is atrocious. Now shoo, leave the scruff, and get dressed. We have 45 minutes before the first guests arrive.”

Harry blushed at the comment but didn’t argue and walked towards the door to the walk-in closet, tossing his towel over the hook before disappearing inside with a flash of his bare ass.

“You’re shameless, Hadrian Peverell,” Draco shouted after him with a groan, earning him a laugh from inside the closet.

***

Two hours later, Harry was expertly turning Draco through a rotation of the waltz, earning a proud, dazzling smile from his soulmate, and felt his shoulders relax at the look. “Impressed, my dragon?”

“Undoubtedly, but it’s only through the grace of my tutelage.” Draco drawled, eyes scanning the crowds before fixating on something over his shoulder, “Dumbledore and the Weasleys have arrived.”

Grimacing, Harry nodded, “I felt them cross the wards, and Medea agreed there’s something not right about Ron or Molly, but can’t determine what it is.”

Draco frowned, tearing his gaze away as Harry pulled him close. The inappropriateness was only compounded by the soft, loving kiss Harry dropped on his mouth. Feeling a flush climb his cheeks, Draco returned the pressure, pressing closer, and whispered in his ear, “So naughty, love, you’ve just given every gossip here fodder for the next six months.”

Shrugging carelessly, Harry flashed him a grin as they spun around the room again, the swell of conversation lost in the swirl of colours.

As the music ended, Harry bowed formally and then offered his arm, letting Draco steer towards Narcissa, who stood regally off to the side holding court, with Sirius and Severus flanking either side of her as if she were the countess. Both men wore expressions of polite boredom, though their eyes flashed with amusem*nt as an older lady scolded Dumbledore, who was hovering in the background with the Weasleys behind him.

“You’ll just have to wait your turn, Albus. Such a shame if your blessed mother could see you now, unfashionably late to the event of the year.”

Draco fought to keep the smile off his face as he stopped in front of his mother, hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, and offered a semi-formal bow. “Lady Bagshot, I’m so pleased you could come.” He glanced at Harry, a twinkle in his eyes he didn’t try to hide. "My love, may I?”

A smile tugged at Harry’s lip. Hearing the gasp from the Weaslette, he inclined his head: “I don’t need an introduction to England's most renowned historian and author, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you flatter." She softly wrapped Harry on the knuckles with her fan. "You’re just as sweet as your sister, Your Grace.” Lady Bagshot grinned wickedly as the crowd behind her froze. "Though I would still appreciate a formal introduction, it’s not every day one meets a Duke of legend.”

Grinning happily, Harry bowed formally, kissing her hand flawlessly: “The Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrian Peverell, at your service, my lady.” He paused and tilted his head to the side, considering, “It would be remiss of me not to introduce my companion.”

“Oh, I know Heir Malfoy. He was always a faithful listener at these functions when I no longer had the stamina to dance the night away,” Lady Bagshot said with a sad sigh, “he’s a beautiful dancer, as I’m sure you noticed, Your Grace.”

“I have, but Draco is more than Heir Malfoy, Lady Bagshot, may I?” He confirmed and then asked with a sly glint that she seemed to respond like a hound during a fox chase.

Glancing between the two with avid eyes she nodded, “If it please you, Your Grace.”

“It does very much, Lady Bagshot. May I introduce you to Consort Warwick, Lord Draconis Malfoy? He assumed his father’s lordship after his recent mishap.”

“Nasty business,” Lady Bagshot muttered darkly. “He deserves it for the desecration of an ancient site.” She turned her bright eyes towards Draco and appraised him carefully. "You do your family magic proud, Your Grace. It’s nice to see the light back in the Malfoy line. Like Septimus, Nicoli was the opposite of his father in every way. Seeing the same twisted obsession in my great nephew was disheartening.”

“Lady Bagshot, I believe you’ve taken more time than is polite,” Dumbledore interrupted, his voice stiff.

Her eyes flashed as she turned to glare at him. “I’m not sure if it was Gellert's influence or just your own uncouth behaviour, but it’s impolite to interrupt a private conversation, never mind approach a Duke with the intention to scold,” Lady Bagshot straightened her back, pulling a few hidden inches from her bent from, “I followed the rules of polite society, approaching the hostess who granted an introduction. You might be the Head Master of Hogwarts, but you have no social standing beyond that at this evening’s festivities, so I suggest you zip your lips and wait your turn for the Duke to address you directly.”

A dozen spectators surrounding them twittered behind their hands as Albus Dumbledore stood there bewildered at being addressed in such a manner, his face flushing a ruby red in growing anger. “My apologies, Lady Bagshot, Your Grace. I just wish to congratulate the boy on his title.”

“That boy is the Duke of Warwick. Don’t be crude, Albus; it’s an affront to every noble here.” Lady Bagshot snapped, snapping her fan open and brushing him away as she turned back. "I apologize, Your Grace. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

Breaking into a huge grin, Harry waved off her apology: "No apologies necessary, My Lady. I’m known to have a temper myself, though my soulmate has been a huge assistance in managing it.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice as if whispering, "I don't have the patience for idiots or stupidity, and Draco's a wonderful distraction."

At the bomb, Draco flushed and pressed closer, hand caressing Harry’s wrist, earning a kiss to the temple, which made Lady Bagshot sigh happily. “Oh, I’m so happy for you. It’s an honour. May I ask if you’re seeking Lady Magic’s blessing? I only inquire because the last few generations never think to acknowledge the gift they received.”

Harry inclined his head, “We both understood and appreciated the gift Hecate had given us. We give thanks daily for being blessed, but we’ll be performing a bonding ceremony privately.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Lady Bagshot gushed with an excited little clap of her hands, “now on that delicious and delightful note, you should rejoin your guest. I’ll see if I can track down your sister and see if she’d like to sit with me for a spell; she asked such delightful questions.”

Hermione and Pansy appeared at that moment, leading Daphne, Blaise, and a tall, regal woman.

Draco took a minute to place them, and he gave his friend a shocked look, to which Blaise shrugged helplessly.

Hermione sunk into a short curtsy and then flushed as Pansy giggled, “I know I’ve been whispering manners in your ear all evening, but he’s your brother.”

“Whispering? More like drilling, Pansy,” Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned against Harry, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "She’s relentless, Harry, and this is exhausting. I take back all the excitement and offers to help you change society. I’m ready for bed, a nice cup of tea, and a bath, not necessarily in that order.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head, he couldn’t stop the chuckle, “It’s how we feel when you get into revision mode in October, love.”

“October?” Pansy asked, horrified. "Oh no, Blaise dearest, she just might be your soulmate, so you can take over. I’m going to go find that delightfully shy seventh-year Ravenclaw and get a dance.” She dropped a deep curtsy and disappeared with a fluttering wave over her shoulder. "Introductions, Lady Hermione. Then you can rest.”

Whining briefly, Hermione burrowed closer before sighing and straightening, “Harry, may I introduce you to Lady Zabini, the Countess of Ashley, and her son Lord Blaise Zabini, Heir of Casali?” Hermione paused and then flushed again, “Did I do that right?”

Harry looked baffled, but Draco rescued her. "You did, though if Blaise had the title, he would have gone first as he’s heir to a Marquee.”

Flashing a grateful smile towards Draco, Hermione beaconed Daphne closer and linked arms, “And this is Lady Daphne Greenglass, friends, this is the Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrian Peverell, Earl of Exmoor, and Baron Ingis, the Heir of Islington.” As everyone dropped bows and curtsy, Hermione flagged again, leaning against Harry, who patted her hand and hid a grin as he whispered in her ear, “You forgot someone.”

“I did not!” Hermione denied hotly, “The Countess, Blaise, Daphne, you…” She trailed off, looking horrified and heartbroken. "Oh, I’m terrible at this. I’m so sorry.”

Harry shook his head and pulled her into a hug. “I was teasing Mione, so relax, breathe, and continue.”

Hermione did as ordered and blotted the tears that threatened, “Sorry, Merlin, this is overwhelming, Lord and Lady Zabini, and Lady Daphne, forgive me, this is the Consort of Warwick, Lord Draconis Malfoy, and I’m going to find a vat of wine and a corner to panic, excuse me.” She dropped a deep curtsy and suited actions to words, making a beeline towards the refreshment room. The Weasley sibling slipped between the crowds to follow, not noticing the nod from Draco, as Daphne and Blaise hesitated for only a second before following, leaving Harry grateful as Lady Bagshot chuckled in delight, “I’m definitely going to owl that remarkable lady, Your Grace, she’s a delightful and refreshing surprise, I hope you don’t object.”

“Never, my Lady. I’m positive Hermione would jump at the chance to start a correspondence with you.” Lady Bagshot smiled brightly, and dropped a curtsy. “Now, I will take my leave and let you speak with Albus before he strokes out behind me, Countess?” Lady Bagshot turned to the Countess of Ashley, smiled gracefully, slipped an arm through the younger Lady’s, who steered her away chiding her with a gentle tone. "Let me help, Bethilda. You know you shouldn’t be walking unassisted.”

Harry watched them walk away, feeling Sirius move behind him to stand at his back. Turning his attention to the headmaster, Harry watched the older man fidget, clearly uncomfortable, not knowing how to react. “You look good, Harry.”

“It’s Hadrian, Head Master,” Harry replied evenly, “but the appropriate form of address would be Your Grace, given my rank as the Duke of Warwick.”

“My boy,” Albus began, his face reflecting his surprise as Arthur huffed behind him and stepped between them, his face red with anger.

“That’s enough, Albus. You may leave if you can’t give The Duke of Warwick the respect he deserves.” Arthur glared until Albus cast a disappointed look towards Harry. Then, he offered a clipped bow and stalked away, robes billowing behind him in a parody of Snape's worst days.

Harry bit his lip to hide his amusem*nt and turned his attention to Arthur and Molly, who shifted uncomfortably before they offered the correct bows, “Your Grace, I speak for myself and my wife, but you need to know, we are proud of you. Claiming your titles at such an age is a burden that shouldn’t have been necessary, yet I understand at least why you have.” Arthur threw a dark look over his shoulder where Albus was sulking in the corner and squeezed Molly’s hand when she opened her mouth as if to argue, “Your parents would be unbelievably proud of you, Your Grace.” Arthur bowed again, dipped his head in a nod towards Sirius, and then nudged Molly to curtsy before leading her away.

Harry deflated the tension building across his shoulders, disappearing when he discovered that the Weasleys and Dumbledore had arrived. He hadn’t been sure inviting them had been a good idea, but knew that Narcissa had been right, the power play had been needed. It let both sets know he wasn’t to be trifled with just because of their shared history.

Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “You did good, pup.”

“You sure? I feel like I should have acknowledged Ron at least,” Harry muttered, accepting the glass of wine Draco held out, having snagged it from a passing servant.

“Has he written to you once this summer?” Sirius asked with a raised brow.

Shaking his head, Harry tossed a less-than-polite swallow back, making Sirius lift an eyebrow as Severus snorted beside his husband. “There you go, then. Ron may not be landed, but he is pureblood. He knows he slighted you, not just as a friend but as a noble. He has to deal with that, and it's not something you can help.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, finishing the glass and setting it on a little table off to the side. “Okay, you can stop placating me. I’m going to dance with my husband again; he looks bored.”

Draco huffed in mock offence but eagerly accepted his hand. “It’s a party, and I love to dance, husband.”

“I know, Dragon,” Harry whispered as they fell into the familiar patterns of the dance. He drew Draco close as he spun him around the room, breaking into a smile as Draco laughed in delight.

***

At midnight, refreshments appeared on little tables around the room, the dance floor emptying of people as the choir took a break, the interlude accepted graciously as small groups formed, gossiping happily.

Watching the room, it was easy to see who had been affected by Riddle’s punishment. Looking pale and green, Lord Nott was barely upright as he leaned heavily on a cane, face blank but eyes terrified, and it was clear that he didn’t want to be there. Sweeping the room once again, Harry tagged seven other men, suffering as well, and kept watch as they seemed to move as one, others appearing to join them as they closed ranks and stood for a moment as if waiting. Harry kept an ear on the conversation the four Slytherins were engaged in with Hermione. A tingling along his spine made him meet Sirius’s gaze from across the room, the older man nodding once, fingering his wand as if waiting for the single. Tightened his arm around Draco’s waist, Harry shifted slightly, putting more of himself in front of Draco, and lifted his chin as a group of people strolled to the middle of the dance floor before parting with an arrogance that was hilarious, revealing the man in the middle who was gazing at Harry with absolute hatred.

“Harry Potter.”

A powerful silence descended on the room. Harry would have suspected a charm if he knew none of them had any power to overcome Medea, and he straightened his back, “Riddle.”

The wreck of a man hissed angrily, “You dare!”

Shrugging carelessly, Harry stepped forward, waving his hand behind him, wordlessly casting a shield, “It’s your name, Tom.”

“I’m Lord Voldemort, you stupid boy.” Riddle spat and then coughed, his face flushing with rage and embarrassment.

“I might be considered a boy, given your age, but I’m not stupid,” Harry replied, folding his arms. "I’m not stupid enough to try to preserve my life by going against the founding principles that Salazar built his magic on.”

The room blinked, heads swivelling morbidity to see the reply, and they weren't disappointed when Riddle raised a finger and shrieked at him, “Curse him.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Nott who tried. Harry rolled his eyes, carelessly waving his hand and batting the weak spell away, deflecting it towards the ceiling even though he saw the shield rippling around the circle of the dance floor. “You’re really going to have to try harder. Though a bit of advice, you or your followers can do nothing to me.”

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO-?” Riddle screamed, voice cracking as he choked on the last word, sending him into a coughing fit again, blood dotting his lips. His breath was coming in his pants as he swayed, “What have you done?”

Crossing the floor and sliding through the shield, Harry waved his hand, and ropes erupted from his wand, binding the followers who flopped to the floor, “Fulfilled a prophecy, but I did it my way. I petitioned magic in the old ways when I claimed my inheritance, and she granted.” Harry stopped in front of Tom Riddle and knelt in front of the broken man who collapsed to the floor with a pain-filled gasp, “You damned yourself when you sought immortality; Salazar’s founding principle was simple, Tom.”

“What do you know of my ancestor?” Tom demanded breathlessly as he gazed up at him.

Smiling gently, Harry tilted his head and spoke, the soft hissing widening Tom’s eyes, “More than you, cousin, we’re descended from Cadmus Peverell, who married Salazar's granddaughter, fourth generation. I, from the elder son's line, which fell into a squib line within five generations, married first into the Warren line and then the Evans. You come from the youngest daughter, who married into the Rosenburg line before marrying the Gaunt line, a line more squib than magical. When you attacked and killed my mother, Salazar’s magic recognized the rightful Heir, me, pure of heart and intent, and the thirteenth generational child, born at the midpoint of a decade change.”

Eyes bright and feverish, Tom reached out and gripped his hand, the old man's strength non-existent. “What was his principle?”

“Trust in the cycles of life; all things have their time, and all things come full circle,” Harry replied softly. "Your lieutenant had the right idea. In redemption is forgiveness, and I can forgive you for being duped by an old and desperately bitter man.”

Tom blinked, tears filling his eyes, “What?”

“The prophecy was never about you, Tom,” Harry replied, feeling a spark of sorrow for the old man before him, confusion swirling in his red eyes. Seeing sanity and horror fill them was startling as Tom swallowed hard and whispered, “But my magic, it’s gone. You….”

Harry shook his head, “All I did was demand and claim by birth and blood, first in line, the rights of magic. I left judgment and punishment up to her, which she claimed. You damned yourself when you created your horcruxes, taking everything you sought immorally; family, acceptance, magical prestige, and immortality.”

Tom was quiet for a long time before he lifted his head. “What happens now?”

“You face judgment before society for your crimes,” Harry replied softly, “through the Dverger, I trust them to treat you fairly while awaiting trial.”

“Can’t you just kill me? We already know I’m guilty.”

Tom huffed in defeat as Harry shook his head. “If Magic wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Take the time to think. She might be offering you redemption like Lucius fought and lost at.”

Lifting his head, Harry nodded to Ragnok, who stood outside the circle. His people were swarming the wizards and popping away, taking Riddle last. As Harry stood, raising his hands to stop the swell of panic, Ragnok came to stand beside him.

“Lords and Ladies, I know none of you really know me as other than the Boy Who Lived, but I’m asking for calm and patience,” Harry spoke over the rumble of voices and waited for them to fall silent. “That was the wizard previously known as Voldemort. His real name is Tom Riddle Junior, born of Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Senior.”

Noise exploded over the room, and Harry waited unmoving until they quieted again and spoke softly, “I know you’re scared, and the news hasn’t helped that in the last few weeks, but I swear on my magic that was Voldemort, rendered squib by Magic as punishment for his crimes against me,” He titled his head to Ragnok, “This is the Dverger Chiefton, Ragnok, who has graciously offered one of their cells to hold Riddle over until his trial where he will face judgement-”

“He deserves to die!” Someone shouted from the crowd, making Harry frown and demand.

“Who are you to question, Lady Magic?” When no response came, Harry continued, “If my adopted father’s incarceration taught me anything, everyone deserves the right to a fair trial, no matter the crime or apparent guilt. Tom Riddle and his surviving followers will face the Dverger Court. Ragnok and I have agreed that the insularity between our two societies is at an end. We are sitting down together and rewriting treaty laws skewed toward our favour. As their Patron, the first in five hundred years, Ragnok granted me this boon. They are a neutral party, and as the right of conquest, I demand that, and it will be met and upheld.”

“Why do you get to demand that?”

A humourless laugh left Harry, and he turned to stare directly at Albus Dumbledore, his facade as grandfatherly gone as he glared at him. Harry lifted his chin, “Because I fulfilled the prophecy, Head Master, it’s my right as his victim to demand a trial, and as the highest title in the room, I can enforce it. Tom Riddle’s story will be told before the world so the population can understand he was just a man. A man who was twisted and warped by circ*mstance, opportunity, greed, and miseducation.”

Albus’s eye twitched, his hands clenching at his side before he bowed sharply. “Well said, Your Grace. I commend you on your capacity to forgive.”

“Who said anything about forgiveness, Sir?” Harry asked curiously. “I never once said I forgive the man. His crimes are atrocious, but magic met and delivered his punishment; the trial is a formality to provide closure to the Wizarding world, that his reign of terror is ended. That’s my gift to society.”

The only response Harry got was a thinning of Albus’s mouth before the old man turned on his heel and stalked away, the crowd parting in shock at the blatant disrespect he showed. As he disappeared from the room, that was the only whisper that spread around the room.

Harry first met Sirius’s eyes and then Draco’s and nodded. The fall of Dumbledore had started, and it felt beautiful.

***

Magic crackled in the air around the seven people in the circle as Draco took a step forward, taking his hands, a look of awe on his face. Harry smiled and squeezed Draco’s hands, arranging their hands to cross in the middle, and took a breath, “I, Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, offer my thanks to Lady Magic for the gift of you. I vow to protect, shelter, and treasure you always. I offer you my heart, magic and name until the Lady takes me home. So mote it be.”

Tears brightened Draco’s eyes, and he inhaled sharply and chuckled helplessly as a tear slid down his cheek, “You bastard, I wanted to get through this without crying.”

Shrugging, Harry leaned down and kissed Draco’s palms but didn’t let go.

Clearing his throat, Draco took a breath, “I, Draconis Black-Malfoy, offer my thanks to Lady Magic for the gift of you. I vow to support, guide and cherish you always. I offer my heart, magic, and love until the Lady takes me home. So mote it be.”

The five surrounding the circle repeated the vow, magic stilling as it swelled, thick and sweet, encompassing the two men in the inner circle. A gold rope appeared around their joined hands, looping in a figure eight, before flashing and appearing on their arms, a visual confirmation that magic had accepted and blessed the vow.

Harry bowed his head, overcome with emotion, “Thank you, Lady,”

“She says you're welcome,” came a strangely familiar voice.

“Mom,” Head snapping up, Harry met Severus’s eyes, which shone with tears, “Lily…”

Two shimmering figures appeared beside Harry and Draco, making Sirius whimper, “James.”

“Hey Pads,” James's voice echoed, and his figure shrugged, “We can’t stay long, but she let us have this moment.”

Lily spoke softly, “You’ve managed to figure out a decades-old prophecy that Albus has been working hard to circumvent for years, and we are so unbelievably proud of you, son.”

“I had help,” Harry protested, voice catching in his throat.

“You did, and in your selflessness by refusing to claim the victory as your own, the Lady blessed you twice over,” Lily replied, reaching up and touching the scar on his forehead. “You already have your soulmate, and when you need it, you’ll know how to end it.”

“She’s given me more than that. She blessed me with family, friends, and a life without fear. I can ask for nothing else and offer everything I am to honour that gift.” Harry whispered softly, tears falling unchecked down his cheeks.

“Live your life, son, cherish your soulmate, and honour your family and friends; you can give no greater service than that.” James responded and then glanced at Sirius, “That goes for you too, Sirius. You owe me nothing, and no apologies are needed because you did nothing wrong.”

Sirius bowed his head, sniffling hard.

Lily took James's hand. “You’re included in that, Sev. You did the best you could under Albus’s thumb. You still honoured your vow and protected my son, no matter the danger to you, so thank you, both of you.”

Swallowing, Severus cleared his throat, “You're welcome; the honour was mine.”

Magic filled the air again, and the figures dissipated, their voices mingling, “May the Circle be open but remain unbroken. May the peace of the Lady be ever in your heart. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be.”

****

Harry woke to the crack of a house elf appearing, Draco draped over his chest, whining at the noise.

“Sorry, Folly is disturbing your rest, Master Duke, but Sirius says you are having guests in the form of Head Master.”

Harry groaned, rubbing the grit of sleep from his eyes. He glanced at the clock before flopping onto the bed again. “I’ll be down shortly; I need to get dressed first.”

“Of course,” Folly paused briefly, “If not to forward, Folly is suggesting you take a shower too.”

Laughing hoarsely, Harry shook his head as Folly disappeared. Draco stretched slightly, rubbing his erection against his hip, “Sirius is a bad influence on his house elves; I know the Malfoy ones would have never dared to offer suggestions.”

“I think it’s grand,” Harry replied, his hand sliding down to the small of Draco’s back, stilling his movements. "That is going to take more time than we have.”

Draco lifted his head and offered a little grin: “Serves the old coot right. It’s not even nine. Gentile company dictates that tea time isn’t until the afternoon.”

“Is that so, and your suggestion is to let him kick up his heels while I entertain you?” Harry asked, brushing the white-silver hair back, as he rolled his bonded over, groaning as Draco arched into the action.

“That is exactly what I’m suggesting. We’ve held off on full penetrative sex for the last month, and I don’t want to wait any longer.” Draco said firmly, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, “Don’t even try arguing, I’m determined to have my way with you.”

Grinning, Harry didn’t, leaning down and immediately turning the kiss into something dirty as he reached out a hand at the door, wordlessly casting a locking charm, and followed his husband's lead by giving him what he wanted.

***

The grin Sirius gave him as he ambled down the stairs hours later told him without words that he looked just as debauched as he expected, considering he hadn’t even bothered dressing correctly, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. His hair wasn’t even worth trying to comb, considering how hard Draco had held it, and Harry was pretty sure there was still a curl where Draco’s hand had been.

Grinning back at his godfather, Harry slowed to a stop and glanced at the closed door of the formal parlour, “Has he done anything?”

Pursing his lips to fight back the smirk, Sirius shook his head. "He didn’t even seem phased that he was left alone, either.”

“He’s clearly agitated, though,” Severus said, coming to stand behind Sirius’s shoulder, eyes widening and a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “Merlin, Potter. Have you no shame?”

“Have you seen my husband?” Harry asked with a cheeky laugh as Severus sputtered. Harry shrugged, rubbing a hand over his face before scratching the fuzz Draco was obsessed with and titled his head, “Have you ever been able to say no to Draco, Sev?”

The potion master's eyes glistened, and he swallowed hard, clearing his throat awkwardly, and proceeded to ignore the question. “Yes, well, this is going to be weird, but neither of us feels comfortable with you in that room alone.” He held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth, “And we know you need to, so we compromised, as it were.”

Narcissa glided from around the corner, regally, not a hair out of place. Harry felt a hint of shame at how shabby he was in comparison as she lifted an eyebrow and gave him a look over, a flutter of amusem*nt hitting her eyes, “I assume my son is still showering?”

Horrified, Harry felt his face flame and shook his head because when he’d left their rooms, Draco had waved him away with an exhausted flutter of his hands, claiming he needed a nap to recover.

“Ah, I see.” Narcissa replied, “Hopefully, he’ll be up for tea this afternoon. I suspect we’ll have a flurry of activity shortly.”

“Yes, Cissy.” Harry replied dutifully, trying not to wince at how ominous and threatening ‘tea’ sounded. He still didn’t like tea, and no amount of tutoring Nacrissa provided had made him acquire a taste for the brew. He glanced between the three adults before settling on Severus as the one who had started. “You said you had a compromise?”

“We do,” Severus nodded to Narcissa, “Cissy is going to be with you, but you’re going to have to act naturally with her.”

Confused, Harry frowned, not understanding, until suddenly a solid black cat was sitting where Narcissa had stood, with speckles of white fur and solid blue eyes blinking up at him. ‘Oh, you’re adorable, and I need to learn how to do that.” Harry gushed and reached down to caress her head, hesitating as if waiting for permission, which she granted when she dipped her head. Caressing a hand over her head and ears, a rumble filled her chest as she pressed into his palm before rising to her feet and reaching up his leg.

Taking action as permission, Harry picked her up, marvelling at how light she was. Cradling her against his chest, Harry glanced between his godfather and Severus, “I got this.”

A flicker of pride shone in Sirius’s eyes as he nodded, “Yeah, you do.”

Straightening his back, Harry ran a hand down Narcissa's back as she rested her head on his shoulder. Strolling towards the room Albus was waiting in. He hid a grin against the cat's ears as the door swung open for his entrance.

Albus swung around from where he stood in front of the window, bright and searching, looking for anyone else set to follow him. The flash of condensation that flicked through Albus's eyes made Harry sigh internally. “Good Morning, Head Master. It's a little early for social calls, isn’t it?”

Albus's face tightened as he reached his hand towards the couch, indicating that Harry should sit. “Are we expecting anyone else?”

“Not currently, though it is possible, Draco may join us. He’s currently penning letters.” Harry replied smoothly, taking the chair, throwing a leg carelessly over the arm, wincing as Narcissa pricked her nails into his chest at the action and felt the chair vibrate as Medea removed the compulsions. “So, how can I help you, Mr.Dumbledore? I’ve already submitted my married status to Professor McGonagall, who has written back confirming a private suite of chambers and the knowledge I can bring a vessel for both my husband and myself. We’ve confirmed our courses for our sixth year, and I only had to change one as it conflicted with an elective I was interested in taking. So, I can’t imagine why you’d need to speak to me unless you have an issue with the arrangements we’ve already made.”

Albus clenched his jaw as he sat in the chair across from him. “I’m sure your arrangements are fine; no, I had more pressing matters. Given Sirius’s lack of involvement with the Wizengamot, I would like to offer my tutelage with that and your holdings.”

“Oh, we have that under control, between ‘Mione, Pansy, and Mother,” he felt that cat freeze and offered an amused smirk at Albus’s blank look, “my husband’s mother, Narcissa, she kindly granted me permission to address her the same. The three ladies are extremely involved and have a full twenty-proof plan; I’ve been undergoing tutoring sessions all summer.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Dumbledore’s face. "Maybe it would be better to hand off your proxy until after school ends. You will be much too busy to devote yourself to the duties you’ll find yourself under as well as your school work.”

Tilting his head, Harry hummed thoughtfully, “That might be an idea for later. Sessions don’t start until the end of September unless it’s an emergency meeting, so I’ll wait until later to make that decision.”

“I see, I’m disappointed to hear that my boy-“

“It’s Your Grace, Mr.Dumbledore. I’ve not given you permission to be overly familiar or friendly. We have a student/teacher connection, and that is it.” Harry interrupted firmly, petting the cat, dropping his gaze to hide his amusem*nt at the shock on Albus’s face. "Was there anything else? I must confess I’m still exhausted after last night. Draco and I didn’t go to bed until the sun was rising.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on the Headmaster, who flushed, “I wish you had discussed your marriage beforehand. It might have been better for your public image to marry a good woman from a light family.”

“Eh,“ Harry blinked dumbly at the man, “why? Draco is light, Headmaster.”

A condescending expression twisted Albus’s face, and he sent Harry a pitying look, “Just because the witch or wizard is light means nothing of the family association, both Mr.Malfoy-“

“Consort Warwick, actually, married, remember?” Harry stated and then shook his head, “If you’re going to suggest that because Draco’s father and grandfather followed the rhetoric of dark lords, Draco will do the same, is bogus and an insult.” Harry sat up, adjusting the cat on his lap, as he glared at the Headmaster, “Draco’s family, who started the magical branch in England, served under William the Conqueror. They were twin Veela; one married a man named Sebastian Louvre, who took the Malfoy name; their son was Armand, the first Malfoy born in Britain. He was named the Baron of Avebury before his first birthday. His entire magical line was light and pure until 1817, when Nicoli Malfoy was betrayed by a one-sided bond with a Veela who worked for Napoleon. In his rage and grief at the betrayal, he subjected the future line to dark influence by banishing those of Veela blood from the family magic. That was corrected recently with my husband claiming the title even though Lucius is subjected to an involuntary stay at St.Mungo’s.” Harry was breathing hard by the time he finished. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. Then he offered a careless shrug, glancing down at his hands, the previous gold band around his wrist now including a half-figure eight, “not that his magical affinity has any bearing on my love or soul bond with him, one blessed by magic last night.”

Dumbledore frowned, yet it wasn’t one Harry could decipher, not that he was interested in doing so. So he rose to his feet, “Was that all, Headmaster?”

“No, I don’t suppose there is,” Albus asked with a hint of finality to his tone and rose to his feet. "I hope you know that if you ever need assistance or change your mind, you’ll reach out, Harry Potter.”

“Considering you can’t do me the respect of calling me by my title, Headmaster, I don’t think that will happen,” Harry replied evenly.

Albus waved a hand dismissively. “Titles come and go. They mean nothing in the end, my boy.”

“Which was why you labelled me The Boy Who Lived or was that a mistake?” Harry asked with an ironic lift of his brow and continued as Albus glared at him, “Thankfully, I’ve taken pains to correct that.” Harry stated, setting the cat down in the chair, “I’m going to ask you to leave, Headmaster. Your attitude and disrespect are intolerable.”

“You left me to sit alone in a room for two hours. Don’t talk to me of disrespect.” Albus snapped waspishly.

Harry laughed and shook his head, “Considering you're here interrupting my honeymoon, you’re lucky I even designed to appear. I’m a sixteen year old experiencing sex for the first time, which means I’d much rather be enjoying my husband's very willing body.”

“Good day, Your Grace.” Albus bowed correctly, his tone snide as he swept from the room. His exit from the home was echoed by his muffled oaf as the door slammed shut behind him.

A moment later, Sirius came chuckling, lulling against the frame, “Medea snagged his robes in the door.”

“Serves the pretentious goat, right.” Narcissa snapped, sitting correctly in the chair, “You were right, Hadrian. His behaviour was intolerable. But if you ever say that about my son again in my hearing, I’ll hex you myself.”

Flushing as Sirius chuckled, Harry flipping his father off with a two finger salute and sighed, flopping onto the couch, smoothing the ruffles Dumbledore’s magic left behind.

Narcissa frowned at his action, “I’m surprised he didn’t try compulsion charms.”

“He did,” Harry offered with a snort and then held a hand up before she could respond. "It’s fine, mother.” He flushed as he stumbled over the last word but didn’t take it back as a faint blush of pleasure climbed her cheeks. "Medea removed the charms he attempted to cast, which is why he got progressively pushier, and I got ruder. I do apologize for what I said; I only did it to get under his skin.”

“It worked,” Severus stated as he once again appeared behind Sirius’s shoulder and then nodded to the window. "Albus threw a hissy fit, stomped on the flowers at the end of the walkway before passing over the wards, and apprated away.”

“Can you block him from coming back?” Harry asked Sirius, who nodded.

“I did it the second I felt him leave.” Sirius assured his godson, “I keyed it to his signature. He won’t get in.”

“Alright, I’m going to actually go get ready for the day.” He turned to Narcissa and asked in resignation, "Guest start arriving at 2?”

“There or about, but neither you nor Draco will appear before 2:30,” she replied and rose to her feet. “I’m going to peek in on the girls as they haven’t moved yet either, and then I’ll be in the library. I have some correspondence to take care of.”

Harry offered her his arm as she rose and led her from the room, earning a look of approval from the two men, who moved to stand in front of the window. There was no obvious contact between them, but Harry could see that they leaned into one another, a silent support, and offered a prayer to the Lady that nothing would separate them again.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

The next few weeks went by so smoothly and fast. Harry was infinitely suspicious, half expecting an attack around any corner - Dumbledore or whatever was up with the strangely silent Weasley. It had alarmed him a week after the ball to realize Medea hadn’t shown them anything going on at Grimmauld place, and found out by fluke - when a remarkable healthy Kretecher popped into his and Draco’s suite with a snack tray that the Weasley had vacated the home, returning to the Burrow.

“Did they say anything before they left?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Not in front of Elder Weasley.” Kretcher admitted, voice croaking with age, “soon as back would turn, younger would goad boy.” The gold eyes of the house elf that met his made the hair rise on the back of his neck, and when Kretcher spoke again, the dread spread through Harry’s stomach, “Younger dabble in dark-dark stuff, Master Duke. Worse than Black Family, Kretcher has no words for it, but it wrong. Made Kretcher sick it did,” He paused and than glanced at the amulet Harry had on the mantel, “Worse then Master Regulus’s locket, Kretcher thanks you for fixing it.”

Harry’s eyes widened, snapping to the locket, “I didn’t steal it, Kretcher, I’d never do that.”

“Kretcher knows,” the elf dipped his head. "Magic given back to rightful owner, it is good.”

Harry looked at Draco, who was laid out on the bed, a sheet covering his lower half, and listened to the silent pulse of emotion. Then, crawling onto the bed, he pulled his soulmate into his arms, letting the other man distract him from his worry over Ron.

Now, the four of them stood on the platform of 9 ¾, waiting for Theo, Blaise, and Daphne, grateful for Sirius, Remus and Narcissa's imposing presence that kept the gawkers from approaching. Of which there were more than usual, as it included witches and wizards who didn’t even have children and reporters who’d tried to get into their faces until Sirius had changed rapidly and without warning, growling and making the man squeak in terror and fall back, camera cracking onto the ground - it made the rest leave them alone.

Harry understood—he really did. That morning, the papers had issued a formal statement from Gringots alerting the world to the upcoming trial of Tom Riddle, and it was sure to be a spectacle of epic proportions. He wasn't looking forward to it, even though it had been his demand.

Draco nudged his shoulder and glanced at his soulmate, who dipped his head. Harry followed his gaze and saw Molly Weasley trailed by Ron and Ginny. All three looked weird; Molly had a frantic energy that was almost neurotic. Ron was worse, plodding along, acting like the Neanderthal Draco had accused him of being years before, eyes dull and lifeless. Ginny seemed to be bounding along, oozing smug satisfaction as she caught sight of their party and pinched her mother's arm. Molly jerked her head rapidly before her expression hardened, jaw clenching, and she reversed direction, stomping and shoving her way through the crowd, Ron wincing but following silently.

Draco and Hermione slipped hands into his, and Molly stumbled to a stop in front of him, hands on her hips. She glared at him. Her angry red flush increased when Harry said nothing: " Too good to greet me, young man?”

Narcissa's horrified gasp sounded unnaturally loud in the sudden silence that filled the platform. She opened her mouth to intercede when Harry shook his head and spoke, “Considering you and your children have ignored my entire existence since I stepped off the train at the end of last term, including the letters I sent, why should I continue pushing my way in when it’s clear I’m not wanted?”

“That’s not true!” Molly protested. “I wanted you safe, and the safest place was with your relatives, Harry. Surely you know that.”

“I know that Draco rescued me and saved my life from my relatives, so the concept of being ‘safe’ with them is a weak excuse.” Harry replied dryly, “You knew exactly how my relatives treated me back in the second year when the twins mounted a rescue from that home; the fact that you allowed me to be sent back and claim it safe is an insult.”

Molly’s eyes glistened, glazing over before she jolted as if stung and she drew herself to her full height, “well, I never-”

“Of course you haven’t, Molly.” Narcissa's drawled voice filled with ice, “Didn’t your husband offer his apologies the night of the ball?”

Molly's blue eyes blinked in confusion as she glanced at Narcissa, the noblewoman raising an elegant brow. “He may not have come out and said the words specifically considering the location, but he did say he understood Hadrian’s duty.”

“His name is Harry.” Ginny hissed angrily, folding her arms.

“Be quiet before you embarrass yourself.” Narcissa replied calmly, “His name is Hadrian Peverell, the Duke of Warwick, and no matter what you believe, he is bonded and blessed with a consummate marriage, so hand over your ridiculous lawsuit, and we'll see you in court.”

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed, as she glared at Ron, who gazed back dumbly. Her nails were digging into his arm hard enough that he winced but didn't pull away. " What did you do?”

“Only what you told me to do,” Ron responded, his voice dull and vacant, as if it was the first time he’d spoken in days.

Huffing angrily, Ginny wiped around. “Give them the papers, Mom. We have a train to catch.”

“Of course, dear, we’ll get this misunderstanding corrected,” Molly simpered towards her daughter and dug through her handbag, pulling out a creased, dirty bundle of papers and holding them out. Her eyes dulled and clouded enough, proving she was trying to fight whatever she was under, before she shoved them at him, huffing as they fluttered to the ground. However, she turned and stalked away without another word.

Ginny flashed them a vicious look and followed with a flip of her hair. Ron, though, visibly hesitated. His body was fighting hard enough to shake, and he met Harry’s eyes with a sheen of tears. He mouthed, “Sorry,” before turning and following, his shoulders relaxing as he moved away.

The seven of them watched them go. Harry let go of Hermione’s hand as she gasped a little and he wrapped her in a one-armed hug; the confirmation that Ron and Molly were under Ginny’s influence was evident, but they had no clue what it was.

They claimed a cabin far from the Weasley siblings, enlarging the seats so everyone was comfortable. They needed to because, by the time the train started moving, it had been the four of them, with Theo, Blaise, and Daphne following them onto the train. Luna showed up shortly after, dipping a wobbly but sincere curtsy. Neville appeared after that, standing straight and tall, lordship ring on his hand. Dean and Thomas popped in to say hi before leaving quickly. They were clearly uncomfortable, but they were replaced with the Patil twins, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot. A few other students stopped to tender greetings, unknown to Harry personally. Still, he accepted the introduction, exhausted and thankful when Hermione finally waved her wand to shut the door, casting a locking and silencing charm on it.

“Professor McGonagall assured me she would take care of the imposition of the student body for improper conduct - thankfully, it’s in the charter and enforceable through the wards,” Harry told her as she lay her head against the back of the cushion.

“Why haven’t they ever done it before?” Hermione asked curiously.

Pansy snorted and patted her hand. “Because the majority of the titled are in Slytherin, we’re trained for this, but most of us only have minor titles.” She paused in thought. “I think the highest was a countess, but she graduated three years ago. But with Hadrian’s title and the history attached to it, plus your adoption, you’ve become the new shiny Knut, and ‘everyone’ will want to be your friend.”

Susan leaned forward, handing an open book to Neville, who took it with a thoughtful crease on his brow. “Actually, I looked it up, and this is the first year the school has had this many titled students in it since 1643. we have a duke and his consort, an Earl, and two Baronesses, plus, the Heirs, a lot of the others who don’t have titles but are allowed the honorific are using them freely.”

“Yeah, my grandmother said it grew out of favour before she went to school, but no one ever made enough fuss over it. When she assumed her seat on the board of governors, they let it fall into disuse.” Neville said, looking up as he felt every eye on him, trying not to hunch at the attention.

Harry met his eyes and lifted a brow. Neville nodded slightly as if expecting the question, “May I ask how your parents are doing?”

The teen sighed, “Better, they were allowed to come home for a short visit, but Gran and I found a private facilitate to help them acclimatize to the changes; my dad was proud and thankful I took the title; he said it lifted a weight he hadn’t even realized was there.”

Nodding in understanding, Harry swallowed, “Are they up for visitors?”

Surprised, Neville’s mouth dropped open, and he stammered out an affirmative before blurting, “Why, though?”

Smiling sadly, Harry explained, “Because your mom was named my godmother, and I’d like to meet her. If things had been different, I would have grown up with you if Sirius hadn’t been available.”

“Really?” Neville asked in surprise, “I never knew that, wow. Yeah, I can ask my gran tonight, she’ll be at the feast with the board.”

“Why?” Draco asked in confusion, proving his book hadn’t captured his attention like normal, “I’ve never heard of the board of governors being at an opening feast.”

Neville shrugged, “I have no idea. I just know a formal invitation was included in the mail three days ago.”

A slow grin grew on Harry’s face, and he barked a laugh and shook his head in amazement, “damn, she’s pissed.”

“What, who?” Blaise asked in confusion, which was echoed by the rest, including Draco, who glanced at Harry with a raised brow.

Harry just shook his head, “You’ll see, I’m not ruining the surprise.”

Draco pouted at him, making Harry chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead, and addressed the cabin, “We should really kick it up and sit together.”

“We’re not allowed to,” Theo said slowly as if that should be common knowledge.

Smirking, Harry turned to look at him, “Who said?”

Theo opened his mouth and then closed it in confusion.

Harry shrugged and glanced around, amusem*nt on his face, “Five Gallons, there will be a table for us when we arrive.”

Surprise crossed the faces of those gathered, yet they accepted, with various comments about easy money, and Harry let them, knowing he was going to be buying Draco a fairly nice present in the next few days.

In addition to the head table, there was a fifth table in the middle separating the house tables, and Harry offered a cheeky smile at the multiple glares he got when he strolled towards the table, counting the extra chairs at the head table.

Watching Albus walk in and stumble in shock at the changes was worth every bit of aggravation the man had provided during the summer, his furious scowl alarming a number of second-year students who scurried around him and headed to their respective tables, casting questioning glances around.

Harry turned to look at Susan and Pansy, “Do you know any other students that would be comfortable eating with us? I think it would be better to show a united front amongst the Heirs now at the beginning of the year and teach the rest the ins and outs of our respective positions.”

Pansy snorted and glanced at the length of the table, raising a brow, “And where will they sit, Your Grace?”

Laughing at the snark, Harry waved her off, “There will be room if you find anyone willing to sit with us, I promise.”

Susan rolled her eyes and grabbed Pansy, who grabbed Hermione’s hand, and the three of them left without a word, a small trickle of students detaching or rising from their house tables and approaching the middle one with curious expressions.

True to his word, by the time the girls returned, the table had grown to accommodate the additional students, and Harry was ignoring Draco’s amusem*nt and keeping his surprise to himself. Feeling out of his depth that there were apparently a lot of Heirs in Hogwarts, and he didn’t recognize even half of them, though they seemed not to care, sitting down with a Duke was all they cared about initially.

It took an abnormally long time for the chatter to die down as they waited for the first years to arrive, so when the doors opened, there was a swell of excitement that gave way to confusion when seven adults strolled into the room dressed to the nines, stalling the chatter.

Harry hid a grin against Draco’s neck when he caught sight of Sirius and Narcissa, who were gapping at them in confusion before smoothing his expression into calm indifference as Dumbledore stood, the frantic energy he put off showing he had no clue what was going on.

“My Lords and Ladies, Welcome to Hogwarts.”

A tall woman with an overly dressed hat ignored him and strolled between the aisle, patting Neville on the shoulder proudly, “you promised.”

Flushing, Neville rose to his feet and winced in apology as he met Harry’s gaze. “Gran, this is Hadrian Peverell, The Duke of Warwick and his Consort, Lord Draconis Malfoy. Your Grace, this is my grandmother, The Dowager Countess, Lady Granville, Augusta Longbottom.”

Harry rose to his feet and offered the woman a bow and kissed the back of her hand, “My lady, it’s nice to meet you.”

The older woman’s nose twitched, and she offered a cheeky little grin, “Likewise, Your Grace, I apologize for our absence from your party, but Neville and I had other priorities we couldn’t postpone, but when time permits, I would love to have tea, Your Grace, my daughter in law, Alice would like to meet you.”

“No apologies are necessary, Dowager Countess, my consort and I would love to attend tea. I’ll check our schedule and owl you, if that is acceptable?” Harry replied formally, releasing her hand.

“Perfectly, Your Grace, enjoy your dinner.” She buzzed Neville’s cheek and continued to lead the group down the row, stopping in front of Albus, who was silently fuming, the quiet argument they were engaged in drawing every eye in the room.

Albus huffed after a few minutes, before waving them to chairs, and rose to his feet, “It appears that due to a miscommunication, the Board of Governors will be joining us for the opening feast. Now lets move on to the sorting, I assume everyone is starting to get hungry.”

Banging erupted across the hall as the student body banged the tables in agreement, the doors swinging open revealing Professor McGonagall standing there, a neat line of first year students looking around in wide-eyed wonder.

It was jarring how little they looked, small and innocent, and he couldn’t help but scan them as they walked by to make sure none had obvious signs of abuse like he still bore.

A tingling on his neck made him glance around the great hall, searching for eyes that were looking at him, and for the first time since he could remember since stepping into the wizarding world, no one was paying attention to him, all heads turned towards the front watching the sorting.

As the ceremony continued, the sensation got stronger, yet it was only as he turned to look at the doors - now closed, that he felt the flash of amusem*nt resound in his chest, his heart kicking up in anticipation.

Draco slipped his hand into his and leaned against him, offering silent support as he kept his head facing forward, for which Harry was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could answer any of the questions Draco would have and didn’t want to draw attention to himself, which was bound to happen if he started a whispered conversation with his soulmate.

Finally though, the new students were sorted, a few of the nobles sitting with them waving to younger siblings as they moved to their house tables.

Hermione’s head dipped towards Pansy’s who was barely moving her lips, but the surprise that flashed across his sisters face drew his attention, and he raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head, as the transfiguration teacher removed the stool from the center of the room, moving around to her seat, the sorting hat tucked under her arm.

As she sat, Dumbledore looked around the room, a gentile smile on his face as he rose to his feet. He got halfway when the room dimmed, the bewitched sky darkening rapidly as it was replaced with a starfield night sky. Even the candles along the walls dimmed, creating a murmur of conversation as Dumbledore faltered, confusion spreading across his face as the doors swung open slowly, nothing on the other side, increasing the rumble of voices.

Harry, though, ignored it all, eyes focused on the door and the flickering disorientation he could see gliding down the aisles.

Before it even reached halfway, it had started to solidify, shape taking place to be visible for all, and Harry automatically rose to his feet as it paced towards him, the hairs rising on the back of his neck at the aura emitting from them and knew instantly who it was, his mouth dropping open in surprise as it stopped in front of him.

The raw foreign beauty that resounded from the figure was more of a bleed-off of magic than physical attributes. Her hair was wrapped around her head, the length hidden, but the thickness indicating it would hang past her knees; she wore a traditional Greek dress, but the clasps and fur cloak were clearly Celtic, with a sword strapped to her back, that made Harry blink in surprise at the handle, knowing the sword.

She regarded him with a shrewd expression filled with amusem*nt, and she titled her head consideringly, lips curling into a smile, as a large tome, the likes that would give Hermione a heart attack, appeared in her hands, “Hadrian Peverell, it is time to stop hiding in the shadows, and assume your place-“

A burst of light shot out of the corner of Harry’s eyes, and he turned, raising a hand, wordlessly deflecting the blast into the ceiling, summoning the wand from Albus's suddenly lax hand, “how dare you?”

Harry demanded as he turned, putting his body between her and the expressionless man who gapped at him.

A second later, a crack filled the room, flame appearing in his vision, but he kept his gaze on Albus, who had sunk to his chair, silent and eyes wide with fear, as Harry felt the indiscernible weight of his clock settle on his shoulders, and then feet touching his shoulder, the minute shifting of weight distribution, sending a burst of cinnamon and flame to fill his nose, the happy thrill hitting his ears and he whipped his head around to gaze a Fawkes in awe as flames rippled around the Pheniox’s body none touching Harry.

A kind hand settled on his shoulder, and he jerked to stare in wonder at the woman in front of him, her voice holding an echoing quality that filled the room, “thank-you, but that wasn’t necessary, my child, Albus has no hope of removing me from my home.”

Harry dipped his head, face flaming as Fawkes trilled, chest vibrating with laughter, “it was instinctive, my lady.”

A kind smile crossed her face, “I know, your forefather had the same impulsive need too, it served him well during his rein as founder, you have a lot of the same qualities he carried as well. A sense of honour, and humility that more witches and wizards should take care to immulate.”

Harry shifted, not sure how to respond. He hadn’t expected this to happen when he arrived at school, and he felt the questions bubble on his tongue that he fought to hold back, refusing to question the woman in front of him.

A tinkling laugh echoed around the room, and she inclined her head, “It’s because you claimed the rest of your titles, child, it was safer for you, if it wasn’t made aware of how strong I became when an Heir arrived, but I’ve known since third year that it was only a matter of time, just as you, no?”

Harry licked his lips and nodded, dropping his head; he had known, yeah, just not so publicly.

A finger below his chin drew his gaze back up, and she offered a kind smile, “the changes you want to implement are yours to do, the real charter in your hands, your voice the one who matters. Make Salazar proud, and return my gift back to its former glory.”

Nodding tightly, overwhelmed and faint, Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and felt his soulmate tense when she turned to look at him, “You look like Armand, young lord, the same physical beauty and taste in magic,” she paused and titled her head, another tinkling laugh emerging from her, “my name is Sulis, child, during the Roman occupancy, I feared for my life, our magic different and not compatible which made them scared. I willingly petitioned the Lady and merged with the school, becoming Guardian for the next generation.”

She held a up hand, amusem*nt rippling across her face, “all in good time my children, thanks to Hadrian’s presence I won’t be forced into slumber again, his influence is already spreading and bringing changes none could predict, we will have time to sit and talk later.“

It was amusing to watch the table nod as one, as Sulis straightened and held out her hand to Harry, who took it automatically and pulled him down the aisle towards the head table, glaring at Dumbledore with disgust and hatred, “You should have left when given the chance years ago, Albus Dumbledore, but in your greed, you believed yourself more knowledgeable, and smarter than others, but that ends now. You will no longer influence or steer the Lady’s children anymore,” she gestured to Harry and smiled, a coldness to it that sent a shiver down his spine, “it is up to the Hadrian, the head of Slytherin if you stay in your seat-“

“No.” Harry spoke, flushing as he cut her off, and hunched his shoulders as all eyes at the head table turned to him in shock, but he straightened his back, “No, as the magical head of Slytherin, I hereby invoke a ritual shunning, you have until midnight to leave the grounds or face the consequences of your past actions, of which our Lady will meet out punishment as is her right.”

Harry blinked trying not to show his surprise at the words that had come out his mouth, Fawkes offering a thrill of comfort as the Phoenix nuzzled his head. “Professor McGonagall, will you take up the mantel as interim Headmistress as we review the charter, with the full knowledge and understanding the seat will be offered to you at the end, if you can agree with the changes implemented?”

The deputy headmistress’s mouth opened in shock, and she jerked when Professor Flitwick nudged her arm, the stammered murmur that emerged showing how rattled the normal clam and reserved woman was, “highly irregular, but yes, of course, it would be an honour, Har-Your Grace.”

“This is preposterous!” It burst out of Albus as he surged to his feet and then faltered at the look he received as Sulis leaned forward challengingly, voice silky soft, “Is that so?” Her eyes glinting as she waited for a response, “I could publicly recount the number of questionable incidences you allowed to happen, starting with the retirement of Head Master Dippet and Hargid’s expulsion, if you wish?” When no response came, she lifted an eyebrow, “Or how about a prophecy you’ve obsessed over since your last day as a student when Mudiwa Onai refused to help you decipher it? You fell into a spiral of your own making when you believed it might be about you. In doing that, Albus Dumbledore, you let your own hubris be your downfall; midnight is not needed; the house elves have packed everything you legally owned and sent it on to your residence on file; now leave my school.”

It was said calmly, but the command laced in words was evident as Albus moved stiffly, trying to fight for the control he no longer had as he walked around the table and headed toward the main doors, bypassing the silent house tables filled with students who seemed frozen in reaction.

As Headmaster Dumbledore passed the archway, two full-bodied suits of armour flanked him and gestured towards the main doors of Hogwarts, closing behind him with a resounding echo that reverberated throughout the school.

Sulis turned to look at Harry again and smiled gently, “The school is rightfully yours; what is your first act as guardian?”

“School unity.” Harry stated, glancing around at the sea of students, offering a flushed smile, “Houses rivalries are fine as long as they’re kept to appreciate places, like school competitions, houses parties or quidditch, but placing children in houses and saying ‘these are your attributes for life’ is a disservice to the next generation. We’re more than our schoolhouses, but being told year after year that we’re too cunning, brave, bookish, or bland stifles and stagnates our education and belief in ourselves - a key element in our magical core and abilities.”

A beaming smile crossed Sulis’s face as she regarded him, “and how would you propose to change that perception? Resorting of everyone?”

Harry thought it over and shook his head, “I have no idea how to do it fairly, at least not and have judgment be cast on an individual who wanted the change.” He paused, licking his lips, speaking hesitantly, “Maybe, next year, either through a resorting or anonymous draw, students can shuffle around to experience what makes the other houses great, but for now, we can create a neutral space, a common room for everyone.”

Sulis nodded in approval, “So mote it be.” She waved a hand towards the tables, the feast filling them and tilted her head towards him, “go eat, enjoy your night, everything else can wait until tomorrow.” She turned her head towards the head table with a raised eyebrow, “correct, Headmistress?”

“Of course, My Lady.” The professor's tone was clearly scandalized that she would even think to question such a statement, but she did venture a small hesitant nod towards the book in Sulis’s hand, “Would it be possible to review the charter you have, with His Grace’s permission?”

Harry held up his hands, “Feel free, Headmistress, I honestly just wanted to be a normal student for once, but like every year, things just happen to me.”

A cross between a smile and grimace twisted her face, but she nodded once sighing sadly, “it does, but hopefully that has changed, do as the Lady says, Your Grace and eat your dinner, we can sit down tomorrow and work through things we all think need to change.”

“Of course, Headmistress.” Harry bowed formally to her and then again to Sulis, who followed him down the aisle, escorting him to his seat, and then continued without a word, strolling through the doors, the air shimmering in a rainbow of colours as her magic flew along the walls. As Harry sat, he watched her for a long moment until the doors slid shut behind her, and he knew without being told that she was repairing the damage inflicted upon the school and heaved a sigh of relief as the oppressive feeling lifted from his shoulders, and saw more then one student do the same.

****

“Beginning with wizarding studies and an updated muggles course is an excellent start, but we should look at religions - plural because there are so many different societies that have different belief structures and working of magic,” Hermione said, curled up on the sofa in his and Harry’s suite, making Draco groan and roll his eyes, burying his head in his husband's chest.

“What about languages?” Pansy asked and glanced at a few of the others who had joined them after the feast. I don’t know about the rest, but Draco and I grew up with tutors learning French, German, and Latin.”

Hannah and Susan nodded slowly, agreeing, “Actually, make it mandatory that there are three years of Latin, with the option to choose another as an elective.” They exchanged a shrug when the others looked at them, Hannah explaining, “I don’t know about the rest, but my experience with watching our peers, even for those who grew up in the wizarding world, there is a serious lack of comprehension with Latin period, which translates back to shoddy spell work.”

Harry snorted a laugh and glanced at Hermione, “Wingardium Leviosa?”

Harry’s sister groaned, “Oh, Merlin, don’t remind me. Thank Goddess, it was only a beginner-level spell, but you’re right. Ron grew up in the wizarding world, and technically, he is a pureblood, but there is a distinct lack of pre-education.”

“Well, that’s the difference between homeschooled and tutored. It’s not necessarily a fault of a lack of primary education but a lack of individual focus. Keep in mind Ron would have grown up with four other siblings with only their mother to teach them.” Neville offered from where he lounged on another couch. Blaise stretched out beside them as they pursued a book from Harry’s private collection.

“What about you, Neville?” Harry asked curiously, knowing that his friend's youth was slightly more contentious. Given his family's beliefs, they thought him a squib until he received his Hogwarts letter.

“Oh, I grew up with a regime of tutors, too,” he admitted without hesitation, “my family might have had doubts about my magical capacities, but they needed to ensure that I could still function even if it ended up being in the muggle world.”

“Huh,” Harry looked at his friend in confusion, making Neville smile.

“After the third year, Gran and I sat down and actually talked it out. A lot of things came to light that neither of us expected, but I have a great uncle who’s been banished from the family for his treatment of me as a child.” He shrugged like it didn’t bother him. " Apparently, he had spent a life-long campaign of whispering in Gran's ear that I wasn’t going to amount to much being a squib.”

“Gees, Neville, that’s horrible,” Hermione whispered sadly.

Neville grinned and shook his head, “Don’t feel too bad, Hermione. I got the last laugh when I banished him upon my lordship.”

Pansy let out a delighted laugh, “the best kind of f*ck you. I did the same with several relatives. It was cathartic, especially when the sad begging letters came in. I returned them unopened; they couldn’t be bothered to help me when needed, and I refused to allow them to syphon off me.”

“It makes me wonder if any of us have had a normal childhood,” Harry muttered, running a hand over his face. Offering a weak smile when Draco nuzzled closer, Harry said, “Okay, besides those things, is there anything else that needs to be looked at immediately?”

They exchanged looks, with Hermione licking her lips. " Do you know if it’s possible to get some sort of curriculum syllabus for past years?” She gestured to Hannah and Susan, then Pansy. “I know, talking to some of the others, that there were courses removed, either as a restructuring of the core classes or as electives. It would be interesting to see what was on offer.”

“Write it down. I can ask the headmistress in the morning,” Harry said, leaning forward and grabbing a biscuit off the plate that a house elf had dropped off.

Draco grunted at the movement but sat up. " A comprehensive overview of the History of Magic, preferably with a non-racist and breathing professor.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” Hermione agreed, “I didn’t even realize the things I didn’t know until I had access to the Black library.”

Harry bit his lip. “I think an audit on the Care of Magical Creatures should be on the list.”

Startled, Hermione’s head snapped up, her mouth opening before she sighed and nodded in understanding, “Maybe Hagrid can get a pardon now that it’s known he wasn't responsible?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll be possible to receive a full magical education,” Harry stated, “his magical core is broken and non-repairable.”

The room remained still at his words, and Draco felt Harry tense. So he slid his hand down and grabbed Harry’s, squeezing it gently. " Is this the aura thing?”

“Yeah, Hagrid has spent over fifty years using a broken wand,” Harry admitted roughly, “I can see the holes in his core like a lumos spell was being cast from the inside.”

“You can see magical auras?” Daphne asked with a hint of awe. Do you know how rare that gift is?”

Snorting, Harry nodded and shared a look with Luna, who nodded with a smile. " It’s a family gift, passed down from Nimue.”

He grinned at their stunned expressions and let out a little laugh: “Let me guess, you thought it was Gryffindor’s Heir, didn’t you?”

Dumbly, the three Slytherins who hadn’t been at the manor over the summer nodded, which Susan echoed a second later.

“While it is true that the Potters were blood adopted by Nimue and married into the Gryffindor line, my ancestor marrying the youngest granddaughter of a fourth generational line, there are still four paternal lines that carried on families.”

“Do you know who the heir is?” Susan asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, though his eyes flicked to Neville’s briefly, thankful he wasn’t looking back. “I have suspicions but not direct access to the full Gryffindor line; what I have only shows the extent before the Potter marriage.”

“Oh.” Susan’s shoulders dropped in disappointment, “I wouldn’t even know where to get a complete line.”

“I don’t think anyone does.” Harry admitted softly, “Mine’s unique, given my blood adoption to Sirius Black. His ancestors created the tree, embedding the family blood in it.” He offered a small smile, “I suspect it’s the most comprehensive and complete tree, considering it still shows squibs.”

“Really?” Susan asked, perking up with interest. "If possible, I would love to see it.” She flushed as every eye turned towards her. "It’s a hobby of mine. I’ve spent years crafting my own. It’s actually part of my thesis work for my charms at the ICW level.”

“That’s amazing, Susan.” Hermione gushed, “I’m looking at transfigurations and ancient ruins myself.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered, dropping his head back onto the couch. "Next, the rest of you will tell me you already have a ten-point career and life plan, too, right?”

“Not me,” Blaise said happily, munching on a biscuit, saluting Pansy when she echoed him.

Theo laughed, “Does reviving the long-standing tradition of the European tour count? Cause that’s mine.”

Everyone laughed, settling back against their seats. “I think creating study groups for the younger grades would be a good idea, especially if we could mix houses.” Hermione finally said after frowning at the list on the table, “Also, advancing the wizarding world into the 20th century might be beneficial.” She shot a glance at Harry, “Writing with quills and scrolls of parchment is annoying.”

Harry grinned at the pureblood's blank look, “I’ll see what I can do, ‘Mione, but I do not promise anything. I can just picture the headmistress's face now and the abject horror that would be on it if she was handed a scribbler, or worse case, a typed paper.”

Hermione burst into peels of laughter, “That’s fair, alright, but maybe so I could take notes in class? I can handle the rest for projects and essays, but note-taking would be much easier in one book.”

Daphne cleared her throat delicately, “May I ask something, Harry?”

“Sure,” Harry answered, glancing over at the young woman, who shifted nervously in her seat.

“You said you can see auras, and I’m wondering if you know what mine is.”

Harry stared at her and nodded, “Light, but I don’t know if you want me to add to the rest of the conversation with everyone in the room.”

She waved the concern away, “Everyone in Slytherin already knows anyway, and I’m sure the others have heard whispers of my family over the years.”

“The curse is actually grey.” Harry admitted, “While it’s in your line, I don’t see it advancing beyond passing it along to your children.”

Daphne dropped her gaze, “Oh, and my sister, Astoria?”

Harry glanced away, looking at his soulmate thoughtfully, and asked instead of answering - which was probably answers enough given her little inhale, “Do you know what the curse was, to begin with?”

“Morgan Le Fey is said to have cast the curse in retaliation for a rejection. The family lore says it was because the party responsible said she was frail and sickly-looking.” Daphne admitted softly and shrugged, “It made the curse more pointed. Even though most blood malediction appears in different ways or forms, it seems everyone in our bloodline is cursed to be frail and sickly.”

“I assume your family has attempted ritual petitions?” Harry inquired with a frown.

“Of course, but if the soul of Morgan Le Fey exists, she ignores any summoning,” Daphne stated.

Harry swallowed, “we can’t do anything at school, but I might have a way to attempt another.”

“Oh no, that wasn’t what I was asking for, Harry. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for a wasted endeavour.” The young witch protested, sitting up, alarm spreading across her face.

“Not necessarily wasted, but I think the key component is the lack of blood connection to Morgan Le Fey,” Harry said seriously - seriously enough that everyone stopped. He shrugged, “I’ll speak with them and see what they say.”

“But no one knows-“

“He means me, Daphne.” Draco replied softly and snorted, “Harry’s not the only one who had an emotional upheaval learning their heritage this summer.” He shrugged self-consciously, “I can’t promise it’ll work, given I’m from what would be considered a bastard line, but if I can convince her I forgive your family, it might work.”

Harry frowned and looked at Draco. “I don’t think you need to worry about that distinction, love. You have more right to claim her blood than Slytherin’s because it was his stipulation that those pure of blood—meaning married and blessed by magic—can only access the family magic.”

Draco glanced at his husband and blinked, “Are you telling me wizards have spent decades parroting baseless rhetoric?”

Harry bit his lip, “did I forget to mention that?”

“Did you-“ Draco repeated and then stopped glaring at his husband, “anything else you’ve forgotten to mention?”

“Um…. No?” Harry replied eyebrows furrowed as if thinking furiously. He flushed, flashing him a sheepish grin. “Have I said I love you today?”

“And that’s our queue to leave.” Pansy popped up, rolling her eyes. “You’d think the honeymoon phase would have ended by now.”

Hermione laughed in agreement as she gathered her stuff: "It’s going to be really strange that they’re not hexing each other in the halls or causing potion mishaps this year.”

“Oh, no.” Pansy pouted, leading the way to the portrait. “I didn’t even think of that. It’s going to be so boring this year.”

Stunned by their friend's sudden disappearance, Draco could only stare at his husband, who was grinning at him. “What?”

“They’re kind of right. It is going to be strange not hexing each other,” Harry admitted in amusem*nt.

Lifting an elegant eyebrow, Draco drawled, “Do you want to hex me?”

Smirking, Harry shook his head, pushed him back to recline on the couch, and crawled over him. "No love, no hexing, but I do want to do other things.”

Draco glanced down as Harry unbuttoned his shirt, “You don’t say, and if I said I was too tired?”

Harry’s hands stilled, and he shifted to sit upright, “then we’d go to bed, and I'd cuddle you.”

Shaking his head in exasperation, Draco grabbed Harry’s hands, put them back on his shirt, and ordered, “Finish what you started, husband.”

With a heated look, Harry did as he was told.

***

“After talking with the board of governors, we need to delay classes for the week.”

Harry blinked in confusion at the opening as he sat down at the table in a private room. He suspected Sulis had created it for this purpose because he knew it hadn’t existed before, according to the map.

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I disagree headmistress,” Harry replied with a frown.

“Minerva, Your Grace, at least while we're in private, explain why.”

“Then continue to call me Harry, Minerva.” Harry offered with a smile. "As for the classes, there is going to be enough of an upheaval with the upcoming trials.” He frowned, thinking hard. "Those are supposed to start on the sixteenth. That would only provide students with one full week, and we both know that the first three days are the course outline for the year.”

Minerva sighed heavily, “I know, but….” She trailed off and waved a hand to the thick book she’d been given last night. "It was completely different from the one we had. Sure, there are some archaic or ridiculous things in this copy, but with the right spells and proposals, we can rewrite, change, or abolish them.”

Harry dipped his head, “I’m pretty sure Sulis will be fairly lenient and approving of change.”

“That’s true.” Minerva agreed with a sigh. " When I visited the headmaster's office this morning, there was a new pedestal with instructions on how to communicate with her or give verbal instructions to someone.”

Understanding that Harry picked up the mug of coffee the house elves had provided, “That makes sense; she used a lot of power to physically manifest last night, including all the changes to did overnight; I imagine she needs to recharge, baring an emergency.”

“She also said she didn’t want it to become a crutch for the staff to rely on, and I have to agree,” Minerva said, stirring her tea, wrinkling her nose at Harry’s coffee like its presence offended her. “What did you and your merry band of misfits decide last night?”

Laughing, Harry handed over the list Hermione had compiled last night. " It’s honestly not terrible, at least not for this year.”

Minerva reviewed the shortlist, lifted an eyebrow in surprise, and responded dryly, “I’m not sure whether to offer school points for the comprehensive list or take points away for being so short.”

Harry laughed, “Mione would be scandalized if points were taken away.”

A small chuckle escaped the headmistress as she settled back in her chair, “The list of prior courses and electives is easily available because they’re right. When I was a student, there was more on offer, and Hogwarts was counted as one of the leading institutions worldwide; we are now at the bottom, with below-average results comparatively. It’s become expected that if a witch or wizard wishes to take a job outside of the United Kingdom, they have to take NEWTs at an ICW level. I know from independent research that out of the last two hundred students to graduate, only five have taken the route.”

Disgusted at the knowledge, Harry turned his head to glare at the wall, “Can we add magical careers to the list?”

“In what way?” Minerva asked, even as she picked up a quill.

“I don’t know, like a career day or something. Maybe it’s a muggle thing, but I know from listening to my cousin that his school would have a day twice a year where different companies would come to their school and offer information on available careers.” Harry shrugged at his lacklustre explanation, wanting Hermione to be there so she could be his words. “For example, being a muggle, I don’t know of things available that are unrelated to the ministry. The only reason I know of curse breaking or dragon keeping is because of the Weasleys, but if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t even know that sort of thing existed.”

A look of surprise crossed Minerva’s face, even as her jaw tightened in anger, “I don’t know how to even go about something like that, but rest assured it will be done.” She cleared her throat and tapped the scroll, “I will also tell you that the Board and I agree on the three courses written down. History of Magic was one of our first concerns, and then Wizarding studies or the lack of was the next.” She frowned bitterly, “I never realized how much Albus was impeding the board of governors and the education of our youth, which seriously vexes me.”

Harry refrained from commenting because he knew that if she knew the truth about Albus Dumbledore, she’d probably hunt him down as sport. Perhaps that was why her anginas form was a cat, the world’s most dangerous predator.

The headmistress regarded him when he remained silent but chose not to address the matter and shifted the papers around. “Is there anything else you can think of today?”

“No,” Harry admitted, “but I think we should meet with the Board by the end of the week. Once Hermione’s gotten access to the previous syllabus, we will have a lot of work to accomplish if we wish to make an impact this year.”

“Very well, I had one concern I’m unsure how to address,” Minerva said, folding her hands on the table.

“Speak freely, I won’t take offence.” Harry offered and then shrugged, “or at least I promise to try and not take offence unless it’s directed at my soulmate.”

“I would never.” The outraged, scandalous tone was accompanied by a hand pressed to her chest: " Soulmate magic is rare and beautiful. No one should question the Lady’s gift in any way, and if they did, I hope you told them all about themselves.”

Laughing, Harry relaxed in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. “I did, and he’s no longer here.” He shrugged at her wide-eyed look. “I make no apologies for it either. It’s not the least of which Albus Dumbledore has done to interfere in my life.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Minerva replied sadly, “I wanted you to know I vehemently opposed Albus when he gave you to your aunt. Yet nothing I said or did dissuade him, and I had no hope of combatting him at the time, given his status in the Wizengamot.”

“I hold no ill will towards you, Minerva. It’s enough to know that someone cared; now, what was your concern?”

“Your connection to the wards.” She replied bluntly, “I won’t ask you to separate from it, not that I think you could, but I want your promise you won’t use it to circumvent the school rules.”

“Unless it’s a matter of life or death or a potential emergency in my home, then I wouldn’t.” Harry replied and admitted, “I can’t say I haven’t used them to hide from detection during the fifth year, but that was more of a f*ck you to Umbridge, so I could sneak into the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You’ve been back down into the chamber?”

Harry shrugged, nodding, “I was curious, and it was a good way to gain control of my anger. Plus, Salazar became not only a better source of information than the libraries, but he was also a better teacher.”

“I’m sure he is.” She offered him a smile, “Maybe when we have time to go down, I can join you.”

Harry tilted his head, “Sirius tattle on me?”

“He might have grumbled about having too much to do and the horrors of being a responsible adult.” The headmistress admitted with a smile, “Now go, enjoy your free day with your friends. I’ll announce at lunch that class will start as normal.”

“One thing to add before I do.” Harry withdrew the letter, the broken seal from Gringotts visible, and held it out. "It’s not school-related exactly, but it does require my husband and me to attend as Ms. And Mrs.Weasley are challenging my marriage, citing breach of contract. They had wanted a private negotiation with their family lawyer, but I demanded my right to a neutral party, as I am the Patron of the Horde. They agreed to host.”

Frowning, Minerva scanned the letter: "Yes, I see. I’ll mark you and your husband absent that day, as well as Ms.Weasley.”

Smiling pleasantly, Harry shook his head, “I’m going to be an ass and request that if she or her mother haven’t informed you of the pending court date, then don’t use my notice to do so.”

Giving him a shrewd look over her glasses, she just shook her head, “ass indeed, though I understand your reasoning, if she doesn’t show because she doesn’t have permission to leave, her suit is forfeit, correct?”

Grinning, Harry rose to his feet. " It already is; she just doesn’t know that. I have other reasons for going, but if you could whisper in someone’s ear that Ron has to escort her when the time comes, it would be appreciated.”

Minerva stilled, regarded him with keen eyes, and nodded once. Harry relaxed, knowing she understood the significance of his request. Gringotts was the only place in the world with a nullification field, and it was what he desperately needed. He just hoped it would be enough to break whatever hold was over his one-time best friend, even if he suspected it might have all been an act from the beginning.

Offering a bow, Harry left the room, searching through the bond for his husband's location. Finding it in the library, he turned his feet in that direction and left with a lighter heart and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

***

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Harry wasn’t surprised to find Sirius or Narcissa waiting when they port-keyed directly into Gringotts for the meeting.

The approving nod at their formalwear made him straighten his back with pride and flash his husband a cheeky grin when Draco rolled his eyes. His insistence that he wear the black sleeveless vest with the green trim and a charcoal button-up instead of the solid single-colour dark green sleeved one made him smug.

Pressing a kiss to Draco’s cheek, he linked their hands and fell into step behind their parents as they were led to a private meeting room.

Harry inhaled sharply as the nullification shield slid over him, and he shook his shoulders to dispel the heaviness on his shoulders as he sat in the surprisingly comfortable chairs on one side of the large table.

The Dverger, who led them, offered them a tea service and bowed formally, informing them that Ragnok and Nrocneer would be with them shortly.

Nodding politely, Harry accepted the folder of files Sirius handed over and watched as the two adults sat at the end of the table, clearly having no intention of leaving.

The two ranking Dverger arrived with little fanfare but an escort of five, who took up positions around the room. Rangok slid into the chair at the head of the table, his son sitting to his left, and both men nodded a greeting.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“You as well, Ragnok. I trust your enemies are cowering in fear at the feats of your grandeur and your vaults overflowing with their betrayals.” Harry replied with a jaunty two-finger salute and grin at the semi-scandalized expression on his account manager's face as his father barked a laugh.

“Just so, Your Grace.”

“It’s Hadrian, sir, as I’ve said.” Harry replied, pulling out a chair for Draco and making sure he was comfortable before he dropped down beside him.

Rangok dipped his head in acknowledgment and glanced at his son, who looked pained. " Our cordial relationship has disturbed many within the horde, but I must admit, I enjoy our talks. It’s nice not being feared or grovelled, too, even if I’m expected to feel both.”

Harry chuckled and shrugged self conciously, “I admit to not being educated in the customs of the wizarding world, but you’ve done me no wrong or committed any acts against those I consider mine; why should I fear you?” He offered a small smile, “This relationship might have been built on the say-so of your wife’s acceptance, but I’ve learnt since my marriage that my husband has more knowledge than I do, and I respect that and listen to it, even if I don’t always heed his caution.”

“Very prettily said, Your Grace.” The shaman’s voice floated from the door, and she looked amused as the men stood.

Beannacht glided into the room, accepting her husband's hand as she sat, smoothing her robes around her as she looked at Hadrian. “You look much better, Hadrian.”

“I feel better.” He admitted softly, “With our marriage blessed, I feel secure and relaxed in a way that transcends the full settling of the family's magic.”

“That’s to be expected.” Beannacht assured him, “The bond the two of you share needed the acknowledgment and Lady's blessing to convince yourself it was real.” She raised an eyebrow at him as he opened his mouth, “You can’t deny that prior to that, you had the deep-seated fear it was too good to be true, no matter what you knew in your heart.”

Bowing his head, Harry nodded, “That’s true.”

Draco slid their hands together and responded dryly, “Now, if people could stop threatening the bond, we’d be fine.”

Harry hummed in agreement, feeling the coil of emotion surge through the bond, understanding his soulmate's point of view. Even though it had only been a little over a week, the number of people displeased was unsettling, a handful had even been vocal about it—mostly goaded on by Ron.

Thinking of Ron drew his attention back to the room. He glanced at the large clock on the wall and frowned. They were fifteen minutes late.

Glancing at Ragnok, he saw the eye twitch at the blatant disrespect offered to the Dverger’s time and winced.

The shaman patted her husband’s hand and shook her head, lifting the teacup to her lips and closing her eyes as if pleased at the taste.

Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, Harry glanced sharply at Beannacht, who met his gaze with a steely-eyed look that plainly said not to say anything. He bit his lip as a commotion echoed down the stone hallway to reverberate around the room.

The door slammed open unbecomingly, and Molly Weasley stormed in, dirt smeared on her cheek, flushed and robed in disarray. She stumbled to a halt, eyes widening at the party in attendance, and only moved because Ginny came in behind her, muttering to Ron over her shoulder and not paying attention.

There was an embarrassing scramble for balance as Molly wrenched away from Ginny, giving her a scolding look before smoothing the front of her robes.

The shaman rose, face cool and calm, “Weasley Family?”

A flicker of fear built in Molly's eyes as she took in the table again and swallowed hard. She only moved forward when Ginny prodded her rudely, “Mum, come on.”

“I….” Molly trialed off, head dropping as she followed Ginny, who slid onto the chair beside the shaman without a look, keeping her glittering eyes fixed on Harry.

Something in their depths set Harry on edge, only Draco’s smooth palm against his hand keeping him calm.

Beannacht remained unruffled and waited until the three sat before waving her hand at the door, “It’s good of you to join us; you cut it close to a forfeit.”

Ginny sniffed and threw her hair over her shoulder, “Well, if Harry had done his duty, he would have escorted me as is proper.”

Startled, Beannacht couldn’t help but gape at the young witch in astonishment: "Why would you expect the Duke of Warwick, the defendant in this case, to escort you, the plaintiff? That’s utterly ridiculous.”

A flash of anger crossed Ginny’s face, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Molly moved, action stiff and distorted as she grabbed Ginny’s hand and spoke, voice coming out in a cross between a croak and a whimper. “Don’t insult the shaman.”

The Dverger's eyes turned to Molly, dismissing the girl, “Are you alright, Mrs.Weasley?”

“Of course she is. Let’s get on with this.” Ginny snapped, ruffling through her mother's handbag, pulling out a roll of parchment, “For breach of contract, Harry is supposed to forfeit-“

“I’m afraid you seemed to be under the mistaken impression that I’m going to listen to an underage witch state a claim without merit,” Ragnok rumbled. “Where’s your lawyer?”

“We don’t need one; my cousin drew up the papers as it’s a straightforward breach,” Molly replied tonelessly, eyes unfocused. “All Harry has to do was sign them, and we could move on with our lives.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous.” Ginny snapped, glaring at Ron, and shoved the papers at him, “read it.”

Wordlessly summoning the paper, the shaman waved her hand, activating the nullification field, “I thought to draw this out, but you’ve irritated me, young lady, and that takes some work considering my age.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in sudden understanding. She attempted to push back from the chair but found herself unable to move.

Just as Ron started to sob, Molly shook in her chair, eyes snapping to search her daughter’s face, her own crumpling in abject betrayal. “What have you done?”

“What you were all too weak to accomplish!” Ginny snapped, glaring hatefully at her mother. “Harry is meant to be mine. He always was. Your stories told me that growing up, and Harry proved it when rescuing me from the chamber. But boys are dumb, and why would he look at me giving our families deplorable blood status? As if I deserved to be punished because some idiot thought fast money was the way to go.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at the statement, wondering if she understood the irony, but he kept his mouth shut with a warning squeeze from Draco.

“I told myself I needed to be patient, but then Ron almost blew everything when he reverted to form, becoming an unreasonable jealous twit when Harry’s name came out of the goblet of fire. It set my plans back because he resisted everything I did, even with the daily dosages of loyalty and behavioural potions he was taking, stupidity believing they were nutritional supplements from mom.” Ginny snarled angrily, “It took sneaking into the restricted section, but I managed to salvage the situation just after the first task. It took a combination of spells and modified potions, but I managed to redirect Ron who was pining after Granger.”

Ginny inhaled sharply, eyes widening as the words poured out, and she glared at the shaman for all she was worth frozen in the chair. Her voice turned bitter as she collapsed back into the chair no longer fighting the magic on her chair, “it was almost perfect when Riddle resurrected, I knew Harry would need a good, strong woman to stand behind him that came from a light family, he needed my influence to keep from not only straying but to ensure my future as Lady Potter. I needed insurance, it was easy to get Sirius to sign the documents disguise as Harry’s Hogsmeade permission slip.”

Even though she’d given up fighting the magic, Ginny’s eyes had widened the more she talked, growing more angry and bitter, “he avoided me for most of the fifth year, and I suspected he was meeting up with someone but could never prove it. So when the ministry break-in happened, I thought this was my chance, the only flaw in the plan was I knew Sirius wouldn’t be there, Tom’s not dumb he knew exactly what he was sending. So I sent a coded message to my mom, who alerted the order before Snape could. Still, nothing went to plan,” she glared hatefully at Draco, making Harry clench his teeth to keep from swatting her with his magic, “your father was insufferable and failed Tom, he didn’t get the prophecy and ended up arrested. Of all things, Sirius didn’t die, and Harry didn’t arrive at Grimmauld Place like you should have, meaning the potions lapsed in your system.”

By the time Ginny was done, Molly was crying, wringing her hands, and shaking her head in disbelief, unable to take her eyes off Harry. Ron was shaking and panting in his chair like he was in pain, his eyes red and glossy, and he was looking everywhere but at Harry.

Seeing how much damage a person could cause because of entitlement and greed was heartbreaking.

Sighing warily, Harry ran a hand down his face and sat forward, “A couple of things to note: Do you understand what a magical contract entitles?”

“Of course, it’s legally and magically binding. The only out clauses are built into the original, and there are none,” Ginny snapped, oozing smugness.

“If it was done honestly and correctly, I’d agree, but you errored,” Harry explained, voice devoid of emotion, knowing it would just piss her off more.

It did, even if she didn’t verbally say anything, the magical containment built into her chair told the tale all on its own when it sprang to life, encasing her in a glowing sphere.

“To start, would have been the illegal signing. It’s automatically null because it was signed under an illusion.” Harry shifted around the sheets in front of him, tapping the corner of one. "Secondly, would be in the magic of contract law, especially a betrothal or marriage contract. Given my status as the last of my line, even if I was a minor at the time, I still would have been over the age of thirteen, which means I would have had to sign as well.“

Ginny went pale, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was with shock or fury, and he smiled coldly, “The other issue with your marriage contract is within the name, which is not Harry Potter; that is my muggle name, a tradition half-blood use to have entrance into that world. The other issue is that even if you had known my legal name and used that, it still would have failed for the same reason that the one Draco’s father attempted to sign for him. We are soulmates; that magical blessing supersedes pre-arranged contracts. You had no hope of ever making me marry you.” He paused and then tapped the page again, “And even if I had been inclined to do so, I would never have given up my titles for you; the highest you could have hoped to aspire is my mistress. Your family's status as magically published blood traitors would have made a marriage between us impossible.”

Ginny burst into noisy tears that quickly died when no one rushed to console her, and she glared at everyone in betrayal and rage.

Ragnok flicked a hand, silencing the outburst they could all see building, and turned his attention to a warrior along the wall. “Send a message to the DMLE, Arthur, and Septimus Weasley, and summon Bill. He can assist his family until the men arrive.”

Sirius, who had been silent until that point, swore and sighed heavily, Harry looking at his godfather in confusion. “What’s going on? Why the DMLE?”

Draco cleared his throat and answered for him, “You’re thinking in terms of the illegal and null contract, but technically, with the confession of potions - not just of her mother and brother but of yourself, Ms.Weasely is guilty of attempted line theft, which is an automatic sentence of magical binding.” Draco took a breath, clenching Harry’s hand when he opened his mouth, “Depending on what potions and spells she’s used since the fourth year, it could mean a sundering of her magical core.”

Harry sat there reeling, unsure how to react, his heart breaking for the Weasley family. They might not have treated him the best since his bonding with Draco, but they had been kind during the previous years.

Thankfully, for his peace of mind, there was a quick knock on the door, opening to reveal Bill Weasley. He had an alarmed expression when he took in the room's occupants. His gaze skittered over Harry’s side before landing on his family, the understanding and realization flaring over his face before it filled with anger.

It startled Harry so severely that he jerked back before remembering that Bill was a licensed curse breaker. He could probably see the broken spell form over Ron and his mother, that Harry was now able to see, even if he didn’t understand it.

Bill’s next words confirmed his thoughts, "You unbelievably stupid, silly girl, do you even have a smidge of understanding what you’ve done?”

Hurt flared across Ginny’s face, tears filling her eyes again that felt more genuine than anything she had shown that day.

Bill’s jaw tightened, as he averted his eyes, gazing over her shoulder, refusing to look into hers, “I knew something was wrong when you came to Egypt, and when I came home two years ago, but Mom talked me around into believing I was seeing things. But you did that, didn’t you?”

Harry’s head snapped up, startling Draco, who pulled back at the intensity on his face as he focused on Bill. Sudden dread filled Harry, his voice was hoarse as he stared at Ginny in deep sorrow: "Oh, sweet Merlin, what have they done to you?”

Feeling a spark of anger from his soulmate, Harry sent a pulse back, pleading for patience, and fixed his gaze on Bill, “They didn’t tell you what happened to Ginny her first year, did they?”

Everyone at the table froze, Ginny’s glare slamming into him, the silencing charm still in effect.

“No… should they have?” Bill asked slowly, eyes darting between his relatives.

“There’s nothing wrong with her.” Molly protested, eyes wild, as she struggled to stand, only the intent charms keeping her in the seat.

“Fix her, she’s a monster.” Ron countered the first words he had spoken since he had walked into the room. He glared at his mother, “You let her become a monster. She’s controlled us both for years.”

“What happened?” Bill asked hoarsely, his hand twitching for his wand, but only training and respect for his employer stayed his hand.

“Ginny was given a diary by my husband,” Narcissa whispered sadly, eyes gazing at the girl in pity. “I was bound by oaths to say nothing, and I hoped. I prayed she’d ignore it or question how she got it and ask her parents.”

“It’s not your fault, Cissy,” Sirius said softly, reaching out to take her hand.

“No, it’s not, but it might not be Lucuis’s fault either,” Harry said evenly and held a hand up at the near revolt his words had. "The Dark Mark he wore was imbedded with compulsion and obedience charms. If he’d been given an order, he would have been unable to do anything but follow it.”

Bill closed his eyes, his hands tightening into fists. “That’s fair. I’m familiar with primitive attempts in my job, but what does that have to do with Ginny and now?”

“The diary was Tom Riddle's, a piece of his soul. Over the course of that year, she wrote in it daily. She opened the Chamber of Secrets and woke Keme, the basilisk that resided there.”

“Oh f*ck me.” Bill would have sunk to the ground if a chair hadn’t materialized behind him, the horror on his face making Harry rub self-conscious at the scar on his arm.

“Long story short, Dumbledore influenced me to mount a rescue, and unfortunately, Keme was killed, probably the greatest sin that happened that year.” Harry finished bitterly and flushed when everyone, including his husband, looked at him with varying degrees of incredulous shock. Shrugging, he folded his arms, “Look, Keme’s entire purpose being under that school was a source of protection, but due to Dumbledore's lacklustre and purposefully f*cking of the wards, it allowed Riddle to corrupt her, she was as innocent as Ginny was that year.”

“How can you say she’s innocent?” Draco demanded, hurt building in his silver eyes.

“That year, Dragon.” Harry corrected softly, “She was innocent that year, but if I know anything about the way things were done and my own experience that year and the years that followed, Madame Pomphrey isn’t qualified to diagnose, never mind heal, injuries stemming from dark magic.”

“You were bite by a basklisk?” Bill whispered hoarsely, choking on the air. “How the f*ck are you still alive?”

Harry shrugged, “at the time? Fawkes, cried into the wound, healing it.” He met Bill’s eyes, “But no one addressed it beyond putting bandages on it.”

Harry dropped his eyes and fiddled with his hands before speaking, “I’m going to ask that, as the victim of this situation, charges not be filed with the DMLE.”

Draco stiffened, attempting to pull away, but Harry kept hold of his hand, lifting his chin, “Ginny is clearly damaged, magically and psychologically, by her experience with Tom Riddle, something she should have seen a mind-healer for immediately after it happened.” He glanced around the table, noting the looks of understanding dawn on their faces, though Draco’s jaw flexed, “instead of getting her the help she desperately needed, it was ignored and allowed to fester. It wouldn't even surprise me if I saw a healer's report saying she’s started to believe the same rhetoric his followers did.”

He lifted an eyebrow when Draco exhaled noisily, “You’re talking about her attitude toward Hermione?”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, “There’s a cruelty in her actions and words that can’t be accounted for if it was residual leftover exposure.”

Bill groaned and dropped his head in his hands, body slumping as Beannacht moved to set a hand on his shoulder, “This isn’t your fault, young one.”

“It feels like it should be.” Bill whispered hoarsely and lifted his head, “I’m supposed to be the expert, Shaman. I should have fought harder to get her looked at.” He waved a hand around the room. He laughed bitterly, “Now, the DLME have been called, our uncle and father are on the way, and my brother is sitting there in obvious withdrawal, my mother’s still in denial, and my sister….” he trailed off, unable to look at her, “I don’t know what she is, nor do I know what she attempted to do. Could someone please tell me before anyone else gets here?”

“The main charge against your sister is attempted line theft, based on her admittance to trying to potion me. Depending on the type of potion, my early inheritance of my family magics would have been made null within my system.” Harry licked his lips. "In the end, her crimes against me pale in comparison to the crimes against your brother and mother, given my understanding of the curse she used.”

Bill winced as he licked his lips, “How…? It’s dark as f*ck, and if it was more popular here, it would probably be counted as unforgivable. If you’re caught casting it on anyone in Eygpt, it’s an automatic death sentence.”

“Which proves my point,” Harry said, not answering Bill’s question, “In the end, for all of Ginny’s plans, she had no hope of succeeding. Draco is my soulmate, and our union was blessed by Magic during Prifma Libratum.”

Bill’s head snapped up again, eyes red-rimmed, but stare unblinking, “How old were you when your family magic settled?”

“Third year,” Harry replied slowly, not breaking eye contact.

“What would have happened if Ginny had resorted to poisons, Harry?”

The question made Harry blink in confusion and answer in bewilderment, “Depending on the poison, it might make me severely sick, but it wouldn’t kill; it’s a natural immunity enhanced by the basilisk bite.”

“And you’re a parselmouth, right?”

“Why are you asking….” Harry grinned suddenly, “You found her tomb in Egypt, didn’t you?”

Bill glowered at him weakly and stopped beating around the bush. "You claimed Slytherin, right?”

“I did,” Harry admitted, “thirteenth generational child, born mid-point of a turning decade. It’s also why I qualified for the Duke of Warwick title, as Slytherin didn’t have one.”

“Really?” Sirius asked, surprised.

“It's really not the time, but yeah, the only founder who did was Godric, who was Baron. Hegla and Rowena married titled men, so their titles wouldn’t have counted in an inheritance. They used his status as his title, which was Archmagus.” He smiled at their stunned expressions, “Though considering who his father was, it’s not exactly a surprise, right?”

Unfortunately, those gathered never learned who Salazar’s father was because a knock sounded at the door. It opened to reveal Amelia Bones and the two elder Weasley, and the conversation was forgotten.

***

Three days later, the trials started, and the broadcast was evident in newspapers covering the day's events. Students also missed a class or two, and sometimes the whole day, as they were called in to testify.

The trials were meant to last a week and be bared from a full public audience. The Dverger took Tom Riddle's ‘safety’ seriously, if only so he could be held accountable for his crimes. Sometimes, after reading the day's crime, in the darkness of his thoughts, Harry wondered if it would have been easier for Riddle to die.

The day Rita Skeeter dropped her book, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, led to a huge ruckus in the great hall, as every person received one courtesy of an unnamed purchaser. It also meant that not a single thing regarding classes got done that day or for the rest of the week because it wasn’t just students reading the book avidly and the professors. Harry suspected the following debate would become a legend in the archives, leading him down a spiral of conflicting thoughts and research that no one could distract him from. Finally, in desperation, he slipped away from his soulmate and went down to the Chamber, needing to speak with an independent source because Salazar didn’t know the people involved.

Slipping into the study, the lights sprang to life, the whitewashed walls sparkling in the surprisingly bright light. Stepping around the chair positioned in front of the portrait, Harry slid his hand along the rune at the corner and stepped back as Salazar’s eyes blinked open, gazing at him critically and taking a minute to adjust before he nodded and put a hand on the picture, and stepped through with a flare of magic.

“Hello, Grandson.”

“Grandfather.” Suddenly ill at ease, Harry swallowed and turned away, scanning the bookcases along the back wall.

“The titles look good on you,” Salazar said by way of conversation, strolling around the room, mindlessly adjusting a stack of books Harry had left from a prior visit, “But that’s not what you want to talk about, is it?”

Shaking his head, Harry sank into the chair that had become his by default, ran a weary hand over his face, and admitted, “No, not exactly. It's more of what I did during the claiming.”

“Ah, you’re talking about the advice I gave when you took my ring.” Salazar said in sudden understanding, “I thought it was good advice, and if I need to offer an apology for not discussing it as an option prior to the claim, then I will give it.”

“It was good advice,” Harry responded because he had believed that, but something was tugging at his memory, and now he wasn’t sure. "It was claiming the Peverell Ring, something Riddle had made into a Horcrux.”

“Yes, a disgusting bit of foul magic; I still blame an acolyte of Koschei for that bit being passed around.” Salazar said bitterly, “Anyway, what of the ring itself? I assume you spoke to the brothers.”

At that, Harry frowned, realizing his mentor was right. There had only been three overlapping voices that spoke. He noticed Salazar was smiling as he leaned against the desk, arms folded as he waited. “Is it because most of the line fell into squibs or something more?”

“You tell me, what did they say?” Came the prompt, and Harry scowled, suddenly regretting the visit. Salazar’s teaching method was probably the best for Harry, but it was frustrating to figure out the answers with what felt like limited information.

Collapsing against the chair, Harry rubbed his face for what felt like the millionth time that day, “They called me the Master of Death, and I understand it somewhat. I’m supposed to be the balance, the Lady's right hand.”

“Alright, then, what’s the issue?” Salazar asked genuine bafflement in his voice.

“Is it a conflict of my vow when I claimed your ring to now seek Riddle’s death?” Harry asked slowly, a little surprised that was the truth, and rushed to explain before Salazar got agitated with him in his ignorance. “I- in my vow when claiming the title, I specifically said, ‘judge and demand restitution as you will.’ His punishment spread through the dark mark Riddle created, affecting his followers with random maladies including death, and left Riddle a squib.”

Shock drifted over Salazar’s face. He blinked, speechless, and slid off the desk to sink into the chair across from Harry. " Wow, okay, that I didn’t expect.”

Snorting, Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “Me either, but it worked; he was arrested because he obviously couldn't help but confront me because of that stupid prophecy.” He waved a hand as Salazar opened his mouth, “I already know that bit. It was never meant for Tom, which is the issue I guess I’m having. The prophecy was about Dumbledore, and he’s spent the better part of ninety-six years trying to decipher it. He set up Grindelwald and Riddle to create the perfect Dark Lord; how much of Dumbledore’s influence can be attributed to Riddle and vice versa? It’s a fact that Riddle committed hundreds of crimes, and his crimes against me have been punished; it felt and still feels fitting that he was rendered a squib, effectively destroying his goals of immortality.” Harry sighed, “But it feels like I stole from everyone else. It’s only been a day, and people are screaming for his death, wanting to bypass the trials completely.”

“Ah….” Salazar nodded in understanding, “Why insist on the trials then? What was the point? His guilt is absolute, and I doubt he’ll ever feel true remorse for his actions.”

“I-because I can easily see how it would play out if I’d followed Dumbledore’s carefully crafted plan.” Harry said slowly, tears filling his eyes, “I have no doubt he expected Sirius to die at some point, leaving me without a functional support base. He was priming me to become his little solider who would willingly sacrifice myself for the greater good, and if, in the end, I lived, he would have held it over my head the rest of my life.”

“Held what?” The soft prompt came, and Harry felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“That I had the potential to become the next Dark Lord, and all he would have to do is nudge me in the direction he wanted me to go.”

“So you wanted to show the world that you had mercy and forgiveness. That’s not necessarily wrong, but it contradicts your duty as Death, Hadrian.” Salazar said, smiling kindly as he jerked in his chair. “The brothers say master because it feeds into the fable surrounding their legend, but their legacy is immortality; they can never let the truth of who they once were out to the populace, which I suspect you know, based on your research into the Hallows.”

“Yeah,” Harry croaked brokenly, “They were Thanatos, right?”

“Reincarnation is a thing wizards have never fully proved, but we both know differently; there might have been three overlapping voices that came from the ring, but I guarantee that they were all the same voice,” Salazar said softly and then reached over patting his hand. “My advice is to take care of Dumbledore before he can counter your move and let fate take care of Riddle. The lady has already determined his fate and is letting this play out as you requested because you’ve always been her favourite.”

***

Harry didn’t even bother trying to sneak out of the castle without talking to his husband. He knew he owed Draco an explanation for his disappearance and his plan; as much as Harry didn’t want anyone knowing, it felt like something he had to share with his soulmate, at the very least.

So, keeping to the shadows and with Sulis’s assistance, Harry made it back to their private suites without meeting anyway, slipping inside and making an immediate beeline for a hug. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and buried his head against his chest, his stature still not a match for his husband's height, stalling the lecture Draco wanted to unleash.

Feeling Draco sigh and wrap his arms around him, returning the hug, Harry felt a bit better; the kiss he pressed to Draco’s clavicle softened his husband’s annoyance. “What happened?”

“I went and talked with Salazar.” Harry admitted, “I had ethical questions about my duty as the Master of Death versus the vow I made when I claimed the titles.”

“Ah…” Draco replied, tightening his hold, “I think you did the right thing, love.”

“I know I did, and I trust in the Lady that she’ll render final judgement when the time comes. His crimes against magic are too great to be allowed to live.”

“Alright,” Draco sighed and pulled back, looking down. “Then why did this feel like a hug begging for permission?”

Harry winced and admitted, “Because it kind of is. I need to take care of Dumbledore now before he can retaliate and try to counter the book's damage or attempt to pin anything on me.”

“That makes sense, but how will you find him?” Draco asked, rubbing a hand down his back, “Sirius and Severus both said Dumbledore has gone to the ground, and no one has seen him since he disappeared from the school.”

Harry took a breath, knowing he was about to shock his soulmate, but he knew it couldn’t be helped, “I need to visit Nurmengard and have a conversation with Grindelwald.”

Thankfully, if somewhat surprising, all Draco did was sigh in resignation before grabbing his hand and tugging him into the bedroom and over to the trunk linked to their wardrobe at Black Manor, “I can’t say I expect to give this to you tonight, but I guess it’s fitting.”

Pushing Harry to sit on the bench, Draco ducked inside the trunk, withdrew quickly, holding a bundle of neatly folded fabric, and offered it with a slight blush. “They might be a bit big, but the tailoring charms will alter and adjust to fit.”

Curious, if not confused, Harry separated the clothing, finding dragon hide pants, vest and overcoat embedded with what felt like Draco’s magic, and leather bracers similar to the ones Sirius wore, “The braceers are a dimensional storage; it already holds food, health potions, cash and two spare wands, which isn’t much, but I wasn’t sure-”

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand while his husband rambled and tugged him onto his lap. The clothing spilled onto the floor as he gripped Draco’s waist and pulled him into a heated kiss, only pulling back when they were both breathless. “I love you, and I love it.”

Huffing dramatically, Draco shoved his shoulder and crawled off his lap to sit on the bench, “It’s rude to do that, knowing you’re just going to be leaving shortly.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Harry was already stripping his clothing and pulling on the battle armour, marvelling at its lightweight and the way it reflected but drew in the light.

“It’s ethically collected,” Draco offered, mostly just to fill the silence, “Sirius helped me; he said he had an in with a dragon keeper in Romania; it’s from a Peruvian Vipertooth who was going through a moulting.”

Grinning, Harry pulled the jacket on. He stood and paced to the mirror his husband insisted had to be hung. He surveyed his appearance somewhat critically as he buckled the bracers onto his wrist before grabbing his firebolt and adding it to the storage.

It was only when he met his husband's eyes in the mirror that Draco spoke, “Be careful. It’s entirely possible Dumbledore will be at the prison, considering it’ll be hidden as well.”

“I half expected you to ask how I’d find it,” Harry admitted as he turned, catching Draco shrugging his shoulders.

“I figured it was related to duty, and while you could use that duty to find Dumbledore, I think the book left you more questions than answers, and I doubt Dumbledore will admit the truth. Hopefully, Grindelwald is appropriately chatty and still pissed at his imprisonment to blab and answer anything you ask.” Draco offered as an explanation.

A weak smile tugged at Harry’s lips at the understanding and acceptance that was his soulmate, and he couldn’t help but walk toward him and kiss him again, lightly and reverently. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” Draco promised, peeking his lips, “Now go, and come back soon. Also, don’t forget to clean up your signature before you leave each location. We don’t need anything coming back on you.”

“Next summer, we’re going to start duelling. I feel naked without swords all of a sudden, and that is a strange, bizarre, and disturbing thought,” Harry admitted as he started buttoning the jacket. He paused when Draco huffed a laugh and crossed the room to dig in the truck again. He came out with a harness and two swords, sharing the same side.

“We can certainly duel because it would be nice to actually be better at something, but I suspect that the usage of these aregoing to be instinctive for you.” He helped buckle the belt and adjust the swords to lay flat on his right side and took Harry’s hand, making sure the ring touched the handle. “Push your magic through your hand, love.”

Complying, Harry shivered as the handles heated and met his husband's eyes with a raised brow.

“The runes etched into the sword allow ancestral magic to share their experiences with the blades,” Draco explained and then finished dryly. “Given your ancestry, I’m sure they'll keep you safe if it’s not instinctive. Just don’t fight it if it feels like someone else takes over your body. Alright?”

“Alright,” Harry agreed, dropping another kiss on Draco’s lips as his husband finished buttoning the jacket, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco whispered as Harry disillusioned himself before apparating through the wards without a thought. He sent a pulse of thanks to Sulis when she smoothed and then hid the ripples of his departure. The knowledge that it wasn’t just Draco who approved of his plan meant more than Harry expected.

***

Appearing at the gates to Nurmengard, Harry glanced up at the tower, reaching up a hand to touch the visible and pulsing shield.

It was putrid and an affront to magic, the sloppy spells that had encased Dursley’s home a front to hide what Dumbledore had perfected here.

Scowling in disgust, Harry sent a brief pulse of magic in, a silent challenge, and was unsurprised when they folded back and allowed him to step inside. The eerily silence was unnerving but expected. The rumours that Nurmengard was a living grave were evidently true because he only sensed one life inside the grounds, moving painfully slow towards him.

The doors to the castle opened at his approach. The ruins that met his eyes were apparently not an illusion like he expected. The spell craft was now doubting as a block against the weather as it ate away at the very foundation of the castle.

“Oh,” the voice was surprisingly steady, not as rusty from disuse as expected. It still held the melodic and charismatic intonation Harry somehow knew was how he drew people in, and he tilted his head curious, wondering if Grindelwald thought it would work on him.

Instead, the old man before him huffed a laugh of disbelief and shook his head, “I expected you to be older.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, “Then you know who I am?”

“Undoubtedly, it’s evident in your core, and I would recognize my wand anywhere even though it’s changed its physical appearance.” The man paused and held a hand, ushering him deeper into the crumbling castle, “Gellert Grindelwald, though you know that.”

“Hadrian Peverell,” Harry replied, watching resigned amusem*nt cross the old man’s face.

“Of course it is,” Gellert huffed, “you claimed the title too, didn’t you?”

Intrigued despite himself, Harry nodded, “I did, but how did you know about it. Dumbledore had no clue.”

Gellert didn’t answer immediately, muttering too low for Harry to hear as he led him through the castle, stopping at an open door. The room seemed to be the only one not displaying any signs of corrosion, though worn down, the paint that had once adorned the walls fading in patches. The furniture appeared to be held together by runic magic alone, and it made Harry somewhat hesitant to sit down, but he did when he was directed towards a chair; Gellert tilted his head to the side, “I’d offer tea, but you don’t seem the type. I can get a lovely coffee if that would be acceptable.”

“That's fine, though I have to admit I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.” Harry replied, watching as Gellert moved to a little corner of the room, picked up a quill, and wrote on a piece of parchment that appeared glued to the table.

In a matter of minutes, a tray appeared on the table, a canister of coffee and two mugs, with a sugar and milk container and cookies visible, smelling heavenly as Gellert carefully carried it to the low table between them and set it down, hands shaking. “You can check for poisons, Your Grace.”

“You can call me Hadrian.” Harry offered, ignoring the offer to physically scan for potential poisons.

“Then please call me, Gellert. It seems appropriate somehow to be on a first-name basis with the person who is destined to kill me.” Gellert frowned at the table before looking around, “They forgot napkins.”

“It’s fine. Sit down and talk with me for a bit. I have some questions I was hoping you could answer,” Harry said, reaching forward to fill the mugs and indicating the sugar and milk.

“Two scoops and a splash, please,” Gellert responded, voice heavy with exhaustion. “I don’t like to discuss my actions during the war I caused. The wards Albus crafted make me relieve it every time I sleep.”

“I’m familiar with his brand of torture, Gellert,” Harry said softly, handing over the doctored coffee and filling his own mug, leaving it black. “It’s not about the war, though, if you’ll pardon my curiosity.”

“As you will, Hadrian, I think it better to answer your questions before I serve my enteral punishment,” Gellert stated, seeming to relax when he understood his curiosity had nothing to do with the war.

“Why did you say I’m destined to kill you?” Harry asked and then blinked because that hadn’t been what he’d intended to ask.

Gellert startled, cursing as he burnt his lip, “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that the old coot hid another prophecy, but it does.”

Taking a sip, Harry hummed in appreciation and asked softly, “Are you sure he knows it?”

A bitter snort escaped Gellert, and he nodded, gesturing with one hand around him, “he did at one time, hence my prison. It was designed to hide me forever, even from you.”

“What’s the prophecy?” Harry could not help but be curious.

“On the night of the equinox, what you once sought will be the embodiment of one.

Thanatos walks the earth, one soul, once divine, still a favorite, and always loved.

Once a man, now legend faded into twisted myths, but in essence remains pure.

Bright your destiny, greater your crimes, no freedom will be granted, as no greater joy will you have, until he renders judgement on the damned.”

Harry was silent for a long time, his mind whirling, and he felt nausea bubble under his skin. “Your life forces are tied together.”

It wasn’t a question, but Gellert nodded and pulled the sleeve of his dress robes up, exposing his wrist, the black and cracked soulbond mark, the most offensive thing Harry had ever seen. Harry felt a flare of rage. “His doing?”

“Yeah, he used the magic of the soul bond, twisting it and tying it into the foundation of my castle.” Gellert explained sadly, “He said it was punishment for my crimes, and only through redemption could I achieve forgiveness, yet it was his obsession for ownership that drew me in, his compulsions that made me start everything. It’s what keeps me alive; I’m physically unable to kill myself, and I’m made to drink from the philosopher’s stone every night just to extend my life and, by extension, his own.”

“Let me guess, you started that routine in ‘91 or ‘92?” Harry asked dryly.

“Yeah, winter of ‘91.” The wizard admitted, apparently baffled that Harry knew that.

Frowning, Harry thought over the prophecy and shook his head at Dumbledore’s blindness. “How did you figure out the title?”

“I’ll admit, I’m not a saint. I did almost accidentally kill a student in my youth, but what isn’t known is it was an approved ritual I was leading. One of the runes was wrong, and I failed to notice it at the time - or at least not until it was too late, but I was the charity case, a Lord I might have been, but I was also an orphaned and penniless one. I was blamed for the professor's fault because I was leading the circle.” Gellert stated, offering the information freely, and while it was interesting, it still didn’t answer Harry’s question.

“You see, I can do the dark magic, and yes, I understand it instinctively, like I believe you do. Yet, for all that ability, I was more into historical research. Albus used that, in his obsession with the Deathly Hallows, which was already deep-seated in his core when we met. I was intrigued; the idea that I could be a part of such a historical find was…” he sighed and rubbed his face, frustration clear, “I thought it would be a good thing, you know? I was seventeen years old, on the run and living in England at my great aunts. I thought it could be a redemption or the start of one.”

“It didn’t go that way though, did it?” Harry asked softly, sorrow filling him when Gellert shook his head.

“No, in a moment of weakness, he burrowed into my mind and began twisting beliefs I’d had to work for his benefit.” Gellert ran a finger over the bondmark. “He kept it intact until his magic touched the last brick. It was only when I was imprisoned entirely that he allowed me to remember everything I’d done, and he shared it with me when he was feeling particularly vexed.”

Harry sat up, understanding instantly, “You worked out how to influence him through the bond.”

Nodding, Gellert set his cup down, “Yes, I knew as soon as he set Riddle upon your parents that the magic in your core was distinctive; love, sorrow, rage, forgiveness and acceptance; it’s the basic principle of death.” He shrugged helplessly, “I couldn’t risk you dying, so I made him think of his own prophecy, and he marked you, and then I made him forget all there was to the Peverell line except for what fell into myth or legend.” A satisfied smirk appeared on Gellert’s face, “It would probably enrage him to know how much research he’s destroyed over the years as he searches for answers.”

“If you knew when I was a baby, why were you surprised by my age when I showed up?” Harry asked because that was still one thing he didn’t understand, and he was surprised to see a blush climb Gellert’s cheeks.

“Oh, that. Forgive me. The passage of time is distorted in this prison; I only know the passage of time, based on my nightly routine of potion drinking and Albus’s twice-yearly visits.” He paused and bit his lip. “If you don’t wish to confront him, I’d suggest heading back to your school, Hadrian.”

“And if I didn’t? Will he be here soon?” Harry asked curiously.

“Not soon. Albus will be here in forty-eight hours to gloat over another solstice come and gone, but I beg you, don’t confront him here. He’d probably compel me to fight, and I don’t want to. I want to fulfill my end of the prophecy, and if the Lady is merciful, she’ll let me rest.”

“I have one more question,” Harry rose to his feet, looking down at the wizard, “If you can answer it, then you can consider your part of the prophecy at an end, and the Lady will let you rest for a time.”

“What’s your question, Hadrian?” Gellert whispered, eyes shining.

“Where can I find Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald?”

****

It was with a near-silent apparition that Harry landed in Dumbledore’s home, the name he’d chosen for his hovel, despicable - Avalon, indeed.

It was with a bit of surprise that Gellert had upheld his end of the bargain, as Harry cast, the spell silent and doubly effective given his use of the elder wand.

The crystal prism surrounding Albus was visible to the naked eye, and then he turned away, prowling around the home, waiting for Gellert to release the man.

It took a good ten minutes for a strangled gasp to echo throughout the home, and Harry turned, meeting the bitter eyes of a once powerful man.

“So you’ve come to kill me,” Albus said, tone flat.

“I'm definitely going to do that, but I thought you’d have questions before you did, and I’m in the mood to gloat a little.” Harry admitted, sitting down and tapping the wand on his knee.

“Tell me what happened at the ministry. I think that’s the least you owe me for destroying my plans.” Dumbledore demanded, not moving, a defeated slump to his shoulders.

Harry tilted his head consideringly, “Tempus Immortalis.”

Dumbledore dropped his head in disappointment. "So you played God. You know that power corrupts. Why tempt yourself with something beyond your understanding?”

“I played at nothing. I’m not God and never pretended to be. I’m not responsible for what people believe. I’m her right hand and the Master of Death.” Harry replied calmly and then raised an amused brow when Dumbledore growled. “Yes, I know, your lifelong ambition, but as you said, power corrupts, and even though you attempted to atone, it was halfhearted as best. Whatever belief you had when you saw the invisibility cloak is pointless; your crimes are too great to go unpunished. You betrayed your soulmate, murdered your sister, stagnated the entirety of the wizarding world in a bid to be seen as the greatest of all, and in doing so, condemned your soul. Hecate demands justice, and who am I to deny her?”

“You dare speak her name?” Dumbledore demanded, outrage making him shake.

“Of course,” Harry replied, laughing, “I have nothing to fear from her.”

“It’s disrespectful.” The former headmaster scolded.

Shaking his head, Harry flicked the wand, watching it grow to the size of a staff, “No, disrespectful is trying to circumvent the destiny you created for yourself. You played into Gellert’s hands when he worked to fulfill his. Your prophecy was self-fulfilling; if you’d done nothing, I wouldn’t have been born to complete the circle because that’s what life and death are, a circle. The path to immortality should be left to legends and myths, like Merlin’s legacy, like my own.”

“So you understand, you want immortality as much as the next person.” Albus spat, flinching as he sat up.

Sighing, Harry ran a thumb over the smooth wood. “I don’t want it, Albus. It’s what I am. The difference is, I’m not afraid of dying, not when I know she’ll eagerly embrace me when she calls me home.”

Albus sat back, smugly stating, “Very well, then. Let's get on with this. I’m looking forward to watching my legacy live on, like Merlin.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head, “Is that what you believe?”

“Of course it is. People are going to have questions when they discover my body, and they’ll trace it to you, and the boy who lived will be seen as the murderer of me, Albus Dumbledore.”

“You poor old fool, I’m not going to kill you myself.” Harry laughed, rubbing a thumb over his ring, watching Albus’s face go from smug to confused and then fearful.

“But-but, this isn’t fair!” Albus shouted, glancing around the room as shades filled it. "You’re supposed to end it; that’s what prophecy demands.”

“Because neither can live while the other survives? You mean?” Harry asked, leaning forward and resting his weight on the staff as the shades became solid, “but I am fulfilling it. I’m using a power you know not. I am death, Albus Dumbledore; I direct it as I will; Hecate has plans for your soul, so I felt giving your victims the rights to your life was fitting.” Harry rose to his feet and glanced at the people gathered, meeting green eyes so like his own, and felt tears fill his eyes, “You have until the witching hour ends, then the veil will pull you back, no judgement will befall you, and what you do here, this is my apology and gift to you.”

“It’s more than we hoped for, Your Grace.” A young girl moved through the sea of corporal and non-corporal bodies, her face lined with sorrow and intelligence that she never got to use in life.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Ariana,” Harry whispered, gently touching her cheek, which she pressed into his hand.

“No apologies necessary; the Lady took me home herself.” The young girl confessed like it was a secret, and tears filled Harry’s eyes.

“I’m glad you weren’t alone then,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then he turned to face his parents. “Is it strange for you to know what I am?”

“You’re our son, no matter your destiny,” Lily whispered furiously, pulling him into a hug. "Or whatever your past was. It was an honour to be chosen. I’m just sorry for all you suffered.”

“I’m not,” Harry admitted, meeting his father’s eyes. “It’s made me who I am and given me my soulmate; he’s worth any suffering I had.” He paused and then met Lily’s eyes again. “It might infuriate you to mention this, but tomorrow morning, take a gander to visit your sister. She’s about to get the biggest shock of her life, and you deserve to see her reaction.”

“I’ll do that. Take care, Hadrian. Know that we had no regrets when we had you; you’re our pride and joy.” Lily agreed, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and let him go.

Taking one last look around the room, Harry apparated, as the first scream rent the air.

He landed hard, stumbling to his knees, stomach heaving. The cool touch of Draco’s hands calmed it enough to shift and lean against his husband, trying to steady his breathing, closing his eyes when he felt the hands run through his hair.

“Is it done?” Draco asked softly, moving around to prop him against the side of the bed. Then, he began the task of unlooping buttons.

“Yeah, he’ll be dead by sunrise. Grindelwald shortly after.” Harry admitted in a whisper as he tried moving his arms to help but accepted defeat when Draco brushed them down.

“Let me take care of you.” Draco pleaded, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Exhausted and heart sore, all Harry could do was agree, eyelids already fluttering as Draco wrestled him from his clothing and into the bed. His last coherent thought was the bed shifting and Draco’s warm body curling around him, the press of lips against the nape of his neck cool against his overheated skin, before he knew nothing more.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

December 1996

Walking into St.Mungo’s the morning of the Yule Ball was the last place Harry thought he would be, and by his husband's frown of annoyance, it was clear Draco thought the same. That might have more to do with the fact they were there to visit the Weasley family.

Receiving the letter formally asking for a visit had been a bit of a shock, and the events from September were still turning in his mind. No one had really blamed him for what had happened, but he’d also been asked to wait until they reached out, something Harry had been sure would never happen.

Bill and Arthur stood on the other side of the check-in point, looking better but clearly exhausted.

Letting the security guard check his Phoenix wand, Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s and led him across the room, meeting Arthur’s eyes and receiving a wistful smile.

“It’s good to see you, Your Grace,” Arthur said after a minute of inspection. He nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw, and then turned to Draco and offered a bow. “Consort Warwick, the attempted crimes members of my family committed not only hurt your husband, but they also hurt you, and for that, I apologize. A soul bond is a profound blessing, and it’s an honour to see it flourish.”

Draco blinked in surprise, and Harry knew his soulmate had expected to be ignored, so he was pleased the apology had been tendered to him first.

“While it might have been members of your family and their actions, the hand that caused it is Tom Riddles. I blame him, and I hold no fault to your family.”

Arthur blew out a breath and relaxed. "That is very kind of you, Your Grace.” He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the side of his neck. “I know you two must be busy, so if you could indulge me for another few minutes, Molly wants to speak with you both, although Ron has requested it be just Hadrian at this time.”

“That’s fine; we have a little time.” Harry agreed and let Arthur take the lead.

It didn’t take them long, Arthur stopping in front of an open door, “Molly’s inside, and Ron’s across the hall.” He paused and licked his lips hesitantly, “Please prepare yourself; the healing they’ve undergone has taken its toll on their bodies.”

Even with the warning, it was shocking to step into Mrs.Weasley’s room. The woman lying in bed was nearly unrecognizable; she was skeletally and thin, skin hanging off her body, and her once vibrant hair had been trimmed and curled close to her scalp in an attempt to hide the bald spots.

It was only Arthur moving around the room to sink into the chair by the bed and take the pale hand lying on the covers that convinced him this wasn’t a sick prank. “Molly, love. The Duke is here.”

Molly blinked slowly, gazing around the room. Her eyes took a minute to settle on the two of them, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “I’m sorry….”

It was clear, it was painful for her to speak, and Harry moved across the room to kneel beside the bed, heart sore as he looked at the woman who, at one point, had genuinely cared: “Like Draco just told your husband, there is no fault to be had, Molly. It wasn’t Ginny’s fault; she was as much a victim of Tom Riddle as she was a pawn of Dumbledore.”

Molly flinched at Dumbledore’s name, eyes fluttering, “Hard to believe he was corrupt.”

Harry bit his tongue to keep from snapping. His annoyance had grown over the last few months as the truth about Albus Dumbledore came to light, and people had started speaking of him in the same hushed whispers as Voldemort: “He was a man, susceptible to greed and power, just as much as the next. He was responsible for his downfall and has no one to blame but himself.”

Molly nodded and squeezed Arthur’s hand, “Thank you for leniency?”

Arthur sighed at their bewildered expressions, “We know you asked not to press charges, and Bill could probably explain it better, but given the curses Ginny used and the details in her plans, the DMLE was leaning towards Azkanban or the kiss. Gringotts helped us reach a compromise, and we agreed to have her rendered a squib and have her memories ritually targeted and removed. We had to put her in a home to be cared for, and though there has been an adjustment period, she has settled in and is quite happy.”

Harry jerked like he’d been stabbed, “I never wanted that.”

“We know,” Molly assured him, patting his hand on her lap. Then, she shook her head, glancing at her husband pleadingly.

“We attempted to use the Healing Containment Chambers the Dverger have, five days of mind-healing, which equalled five years, and it made no difference. Whatever Riddle did was embedded into her core and damaged her very foundation.” Arthur explained sadly.

Harry closed his eyes, guilt filling him at the knowledge, and he felt the small voice reprimanding him for not doing more well up to scold him. Only the pulse of love coming from Draoc prevented him from spiralling entirely, and he said the only thing he could. “I wish I could have done more.”

“It’s a nice thought, Hadrian, but it was outside your control. Dumbledore ensured that when he never once mentioned mind healing after her first year. The blame in the end for what Ginny is now resides in his hands; the only thing I can be thankful for is she didn’t attract an obscurial because that was a fear we had for a while after reading about Ariana.” Arthur offered gently and glanced down at his wife, who had fallen asleep again. “She’ll sleep for a while now. Do you have time to see Ron?”

Rising wordlessly, Harry nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Molly’s forehead and pushing a moderate bit of power into her.

Draco eyed him with non-judgemental eyes, but he felt questioned anyway so he shrugged, and turned from the room, his husband following, and taking a seat in a chair in the hall.

Knocking on the door Arthur had indicated was Ron’s, Harry waited, and then stepped back when Bill answered, and held open the door, giving him a sad smile. “He’s awake.”

“Alright.” Harry stepped inside, as Bill stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving Harry standing there uncomfortable as he rubbed sweaty hands on his robes and moved around the partition.

It took everything he had to hide his reaction to Ron’s physical appearance. If Molly had looked skeletal, Ron was one. There wasn’t a single ounce of fat on his body, his eyes where sunken and dull, and he had no hair at all, not even eyelashes, and it even appeared that the freckles he’d once sported had disappeared given the palour of his skin.

He met Harry’s eyes evenly, no emotion reflected in them, his voice wispy and thin. “Heard Riddle died.”

“Yeah, the last day of the trials, a flaming Cerberus appeared in the chamber, guarding Charon, complete with boat, and order him into it.” Harry agreed, sinking into a chair by the bed recounting what happened, trying once again to not think of how he had to argue that being escorted by Charon was NOT the honour some perceived, especially as Tom Riddle had been unable to pay his fare.

Ron was silent for a few minutes, eyes fluttering before he forced them open, “I owe you apology.”

“No, you-”

Ron shook his head, cutting him off, “Not for what you think, but becoming your friend.” Tears filled his eyes, “Stupid eleven-year-old me thought it was fun for blood-traitor to brag. Thought it gives me a leg up and status, being the friend with boy-who-lived.” He swallowed and drew in a shallow breath, “False pretensions, wrong, but once started. I couldn’t stop. I wanted people to question my worthiness because you didn’t know my history and defended me. Knew then needed to be only friend, hoped loyalty rub off.”

Harry closed his eyes, and nodded swallowing the hurt behind a blank face, it was no less then what he’d expected, “And Hermione?”

“A means to an end, easy smartest witch, powerful magic, would have been a good addition to family magic, the only hope of marriage was through mud blood.” Ron said without infliction, eyes fluttering close, chest inhaling on a snort.

Harry sighed in disappointment and rose to his feet, and left the room without a glance back, all he wanted was to grab his husband and go home, be knew they had one more stop to do.

Out in the hall, Draco stood as soon as he stepped outside, eyebrow raised, making Harry shake his head. Draco sighed and linked their hands together when Bill spoke casually behind them, “You didn’t have to come. None of them deserve that after what they did, but I’m glad you’re a better man than most would be in this situation. You’re a better man than I. As soon as Ragnok let me know that an anonymous donation had been given to my family to help with expenses during their recovery, I signed up for a permanent transfer; my portkey leaves in two hours.”

“I can only be who am I, no more, no less.” Harry offered, and shrugged, “My mother sacrificed her life so that I might live, if I spent my life stewing in bitterness, instead of living my best life in spite of the betrayal then I’ve done nothing but spit on her memory.”

Snorting a bitter laugh, Bill shook his head, “Like I said, a better man than me, Charlie, Percey and the Twins. The four of them visited once, learned what had happened and walked out within an hour of hearing it. They didn’t even stick around for treatment options and haven’t responded to my owls.” He hesitated and then pulled out four envelopes, “It’s a lot to ask, but I know you at least talk to the twins, and you can read them even though they’re all the same, but could you attempt to get them delivered? They need to know that I disowned our parents too; Fleur and I are getting married when I arrive in France, and her family is going to accept me into the family; I’m even changing my name and taking hers.”

Harry accepted the letters and knelt down using the chair to write on them, tapping each one before rising to his feet and handing them back, “You need to wait til your name has changed, but you can send them yourself after that, the names will appear so you’ll know what they changed them too.”

“Oh…” Understanding and relief dawned, “that makes me feel a little better about all of this, I was afraid…” He trailed off and flushed, shrugging uncomfortably, “I was afraid I’d be alone.”

“I understand, Bill, no judgement on my end.” Harry responded gently, and exhaled nosily, “I’m curious though why you’re doing this, beyond the fact the four of you’re siblings walked away.”

Bill glanced at the door Molly was roomed in, lips twisting bitterly, “I don’t want to taint your memories, but you- Mom was accepting money from Dumbledore for your care, the problem-”

“I know, Bill. I’ve known since the summer, an ancestor was brutal when it came to finances, and made it mandatory that ever knut be accounted for. Dumbledore was smart the first two years but slipped up or stopped being cautious cause he’d gotten away with it for so long. Instead of taking a lump sum, he started just moving money automatically from one account to the other; in the last year, it was a monthly deposit in her account.”

“It disgusts me,” Bill admitted honestly, “Compound that with Dad’s willful blindness and Mum’s- whatever it is, I can’t stand them anymore.”

“And Ron?” Harry asked softly, hoping Bill didn’t know the truth, but the expression on the older man’s face told him otherwise.

“There were a hundred different ways or things Ron could have done to put distance between himself and the shame of our blood traitor status.” He waved the four envelopes, “As evidenced by five children all doing the same, but it’s also why Charlie and I refused to work within the ministry. It might work for Percy, but he’d always been the odd one, even as a kid; the twins were always going to go places; what they’ve accomplished in six months more than proves that.” Bill sighed and glanced at his watch, “In the end, it pairs down to laziness and entitlement with all of them. Ginny might not have her memories, but every time Dad visits her, he’s spoiling her and acting like everything is dandy. To me, it’s Dad and Mom’s fault for not questioning Albus more or not thinking to ask me either, though in hindsight, during their visit to Egypt in ‘93, they worked in concert to keep me from being alone with Ginny.”

Exchanging a glance with his husband, Harry held out his hand, “If the faults are not mine, then it’s definitely not yours; we both did what we could with the limited knowledge we had.”

Bill looked up, brushing the tears from his eyes, hesitating before accepting his hand, “Thanks Yo-”

“It’s Hadrian, Bill, and I expect you to keep in contact. Alright?” Harry asked with a genuine smile when Bill nodded in shock. “It’s the same offer I gave the others; in fact, we’re going to see the twins tonight, so we have to take off.”

“Thanks, Yo-Hadrian. I should be the one consoling you, but you’ve managed to make me feel better about my decision than any pep talk I’ve given myself has.” Bill whispered hoarsely, “Now go, they’ve taken up enough of your time. Enjoy your Yule.”

“You too, Bill. Say hi to Fleur for me, tell her to keep an eye out for a summer invite, mother wants to hold a traditional Soliciste Ball.” Harry informed him as Draco twined their fingers together, and together they turned and left, the four remaining Weasley, nothing but a memory.

****

Landing at the gates to Hogwarts, Harry ducked the snowball that flew at his head, pulling up a shield that reflected the rest back, laughing at the squeals of cheating that erupted.

“Complain all you want, but if you wanna visit the Chamber, then we have to go now. I’m not risking mom’s wrath by being late to the ball.” Harry informed them, shaking his head as his husband bent, waving his wand, forming hundreds of balls with a simple incantation.

“Oy, yo, we yield,” Sirius yelled, summoning a white flag that he waved from behind a bush that was quickly echoed by the rest.

It didn’t stop Draco, as soon as they all stepped from hiding snowballs hit them in the face, the two soulmates bursting out laughing at the betrayal on their faces.

Then they spent twenty minutes throwing snowballs until the Headmistress showed up, shaking her head at their antics, “Do I need to start docking house points?”

Everyone froze, even the alumni, as they exchanged contemplative looks, wondering if it was worth it. In the end, they decided to make their way to the castle, the festive decorations spilling out onto the grounds and the flutter of happiness from Sulis making Harry lag behind, pulling his husband to a stop to watch the group amble to the front doors.

Hermione and Pansy walked arm and arm, Blaise and Theo walking on either side of the girls, Severus was walking hand in hand with Sirius, who was walking next to Narcissa, who was arm in arm with Remus, Neville had Luna on one arm and Hannah Abbot on the other, with Susan Bones next to her, and beside her, her Aunt, Amelia Bones. Tonks and her mother were chatting with and explaining to a wide-eyed Kingsley Shakelbolt some of the traditions they celebrate in the muggle world.

It was a small group, namely the core group, the ones that had supported Harry in his quest to restructure the educational system at Hogwarts. Some of them had been instrumental in escaping his relative's house, something that wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t made the choice he had. If he hadn’t gone to the Chamber of Secrets, if he hadn’t found the book, if he hadn’t dared to cast that spell, something he knew to be classified as dark magic, his life would have been infinitely different. Yet, he had done all those things and received more blessings than he thought possible; he had his soulmate by his side, he had family and true friends, but most of all, he had an enduring legacy, that was his on his terms, and that made all the difference in the world.

Lifting his head from Draco’s shoulder, he looked at his husband and soulmate, squeezing his hand, “thank-you for rescuing you me, for believing in me even with our history, without you…” He trailed off unwilling to put to words what could have been different, earning a smile as Draco wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Your life isn’t the only one whos would have been drastically different, if I hadn’t.” Draco whispered, touching their foreheads together, “I’ve said it before, but loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Harry.”

“It has been pretty easy, once you stopped being a prat.” Harry agreed with a little mischievous grin at the look of betrayal that crossed Draco’s face. Sliding his arms around Draco he raised onto the balls of his feet, and brushed kiss across his husbands lips. “Come on, lets go introduce you to Merlin’s son before we dance the night away.”

Draco jerked back in shock, mouth falling open. “Merlin’s son….”

Harry grinned, pressed another kiss to Draco’s lips twining their hands together as they walked up the steps to Hogwarts great doors.

The End