Thou Shalt Get Kings

Disclaimer: The characters and places you recognize aren't mine, of course. I promise I'll put them back in J.K. Rowling's toybox when I'm through with them!

-Sorry it's been a while since my last posting, but if you're sticking with me, your reward is this rather lengthy post. My creative juices have been trickling rather than flowing of late, and I'm trying to make them longer, so they may go up a bit slower, but don't worry; they will keep coming.
-I posted the previous chapter in a bit of a hurry, and so this was originally posted with a continuation of chapter six at the top, but everything is in its rightful place now.

A big thank you to my lovely reviewers! What you have to say influences me more than you know--especially to keep me writing!


Chapter Seven

WHEN THEY HEADED back to the basement level, it appeared that the rest of the household had gathered in the large downstairs kitchen during the talk in the drawing room. Mrs. Weasley had the table heaped with steaming dishes for their somewhat late supper, but she hadn't yet stopped fussing with her pots and pans. Draco trailed behind Sirius and Remus towards the far side of the room where Snape and Dumbledore were already conversing with Kingsley, Tonks, and a fresh from work Mr. Weasley near the table. Mrs. Weasley paused in her cooking as they approached, all of these adults eager to hear Dumbledore's confirmation of Draco and Harry's shared parentage.

However, Harry hadn't even taken two steps into the kitchen before Hermione greeted him with a guilty expression on her face.

"Harry, I'm so sorry!" she cried out, quite upset as she flung her arms around him. "I should have known right away that he wasn't you! The clothes, and the glasses…and I knew something wasn't right! It just didn't occur to me that he might actually be someone else!"

"It's okay, Hermione; it's not your fault." After having been sure all day that he had been forgotten, Harry found himself smiling at Hermione's frantic apologies. He should have known all along that his friends would never just abandon him.

"What I couldn't understand was why the Fidelius Charm let me tell him where we were going and bring him in here. Professor Dumbledore is the secret keeper for the location of the Order."

She held up a thick advanced Charms book with small bits of torn parchment sticking out from between its pages. From the number of them, it looked like she'd bookmarked every chapter.

"I looked up information on the charm while you were all talking, and it seems that the Fidelius let me talk about Number Twelve in front of Malfoy because I never questioned that he was you, and you already knew. The fact that the two of you share blood probably helped too…I should—"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted. "It's not important. You weren't the only one fooled. I'm here now, and Malfoy has yet to smuggle in a horde of Death Eaters, so don't worry; no harm done."

Ron sidled up to them, Ginny, Neville, and Luna trailing close behind him. "Harry, glad you finally made it, mate."

"Hi, Ron," Harry clasped hands with his friend enthusiastically, and exchanged hugs with Ginny. "Neville…Luna! I didn't know you guys were here!"

"Mr. Black invited us," Neville told him. "I think he figured you wouldn't mind after what happened at the end of last year."

Neville blushed, as if he thought perhaps Harry did mind.

"I'm glad he did! It's great to see you guys!" Harry beamed.

Neville blushed again, and Luna blinked at him owlishly, then gave a crooked smile.

"My father says 'hi' too, Harry," the small blonde girl said. "The Quibbler is doing very well, thanks to you. Our fund for next year's Crumple-Horned Snorkack hunt is already full."

"I've got déjà vu," Ginny laughed. "She said the same thing to Malfoy this morning when we thought he was you."

Ron indicated Draco, who was across the kitchen looking like he was working up the courage to talk to Snape. The Potions Master wore a sour expression; a result of being encouraged by Dumbledore to stay for dinner.

"It's a mite creepy, y'know—seeing two of you."

"No more for you than for me," Harry agreed.

"So it's really true, then? He's actually your brother?"

"Apparently so." The idea still had Harry feeling very uncertain.

When Lupin first told him that he had a twin, Harry was sure he hadn't felt happier since the night in third year when he thought he was going to get to live with Sirius. Maybe even more, as a brother would be real blood family. Family that had to be better than the Dursleys. Having Ron as a friend was the closest he'd ever come to having a brother. He'd hoped to have that sort of relationship with someone that was a real relation, but as soon as Lupin dropped the name Malfoy, Harry'd seen those dreams flying out the window. How he wished it could have been anyone else!

Harry made a face. "I can't believe I'm related to Malfoy."

"Rotten luck, that," Ron sympathized. "I'm sorry for you, Harry."

Ginny sniffed. "Well, I think it's a good thing. It'll be nice for you to have some real family."

Ron's eyes widened at his sister. "A good thing?" He blustered, "Having that git as a brother? You must be mental!"

"And I'm not sure Malfoy's the brotherly type," Harry said skeptically.

"Malfoy's never been exactly friendly," Neville spoke up, "but I don't think he's acting the same. He seems…I dunno, a bit more civil."

Hermione's nose came out of the book that she'd flipped back open, one of the parchment bookmarks now caught in her hair.

"I think you're right, Neville," she said thoughtfully. "He did manage to get on with all of us for most of the day. And even after we found out who he was he wasn't completely nasty to us. He seemed nervous. I think he really doesn't have anywhere else to go."

Harry pursed his lips, then grudgingly said, "He—in the drawing room with Dumbledore and the rest of them—he said he didn't want to be a Death Eater. That doesn't mean he's a good person, but I believed him. I sort of told him we could try starting over…or try not hating each other at least."

They all fell silent and turned to stare at the dark-haired boy standing over by the table.

The silence drew out uncomfortably.

"If there's an infestation of pillywiggles nearby, you can keep them from sneaking out and climbing up someone's nose by staring at a person without blinking. Pillywiggles don't like to be seen."

This, of course, made them all blink at once.

Hermione gaped at Luna, whose eyes behind her glasses were as wide as they would go, and still gazing intently at Draco.

Neville looked confused and a bit alarmed.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny just covered up snickers and hurried the group over to sit at the table before Hermione could protest the existence of the shy, nose-dwelling pillywiggles.

If Draco had noticed them all staring, he didn't say anything, but he did shoot suspicious looks at the group throughout dinner—whenever one of them broke into a fit of giggles that they refused to explain to the rest of the room.


Shortly after dinner, to Draco's horror, Dumbledore waved his wand wordlessly at the ceiling and announced that there was now an additional bed in the room Ron, Harry and Neville were to share. He thought about begging for a private room—the Black house probably had plenty to spare—but a look in the Headmaster's eyes made him figure it wouldn't do any good. He therefore reluctantly trailed after Remus Lupin, who offered to show him where the room was.

As they passed the group of Gryffindors, he heard Harry finishing giving his friends an overview of what had been revealed in their meeting.

When they got to a large, dim bedroom on the second floor, Draco saw four beds similar to the ones at Hogwarts standing in a row. The first three already had trunks next to them. Draco had retrieved the cloak he had arrived in from a row of pegs in the corner of the kitchen and shown Lupin his shrunken trunk before they headed up, so Draco set the miniature trunk at the foot of the bed by the farthest wall, and Lupin enlarged it. Then the ex-professor said goodnight to Neville, Harry and Ron, who had just come in together, and slipped out of the room.

Please don't leave me here! Draco nearly cried out as the door shut. For the millionth time, he wondered what he was doing in this dingy house. Was he out of his mind? He'd essentially put himself in the hands of his enemies, and now he was sharing a bedroom with them.

Could he trust that Harry was serious in his offer to start over?

Maybe not—he certainly wasn't in the habit of trusting Gryffindors. Still…his newfound brother was forgiving to a fault. He'd certainly made up with that oaf Weasley enough times to prove it. And maybe he'd ended up here for a reason. When he'd left Malfoy Manor, he'd just been thinking about getting away from the Dark Lord; it hadn't fully occurred to him that that would lead inevitably to landing in Harry Potter's camp.

Yet today he'd been forced to admit his true thoughts about joining that Dark Lord to other people for the first time…and it had felt rather good!

The nervous thoughts of rebellion that his mind had shied from back at home had blossomed into hardened opinion in the short day since he'd run. Why had he ever thought he'd wanted to follow in Lucius' footsteps? He was second-guessing everything—Voldemort's murderous campaign; blood prejudice.

What exactly made purebloods so much better than muggleborns, or even muggles themselves? Draco had begun pondering that question last night at the Grangers, and he still couldn't think of a decent answer. And if he, one of the top students at Hogwarts, couldn't come up with any logical support for his erstwhile father's argument… well, here was another thing Lucius had misdirected him in. He supposed that most children at some point realised that their parents weren't the sole source of truth in the universe, but he doubted many discovered their parent's leadership was as profoundly false as his had been.

He felt a bit guilty thinking of all the awful things he'd said to Hermione and others over the years after how kind her parents had been. And how hypocritical, when he had never been pureblooded at all! And to think of the things he'd said about Harry's parents, when they were in reality his own!

No, he would never bow down before Voldemort. But would he throw in completely with Dumbledore and Harry?

Why not? He thought back to that afternoon's conversation with Sirius Black, and the mischievous glint in the man's eye when he'd pointed out that joining with the light meant the possibility at getting back at Voldemort. I wouldn't mind that at all.

It made him recall another attempted conversation from the evening.

Snape had long been Draco's favourite professor; the man was patient with Draco where his father was not. Never in public, of course, but in the privacy of the Slytherin dungeons, the grim Potions Master had become a bit of a mentor.

When he had arrived today with the Headmaster, however, Snape had looked rather more grim than usual. Even after finding out that Snape was a spy, Draco was sickeningly preoccupied with the thought that his professor's attentions had been due to his former status as a Malfoy. He'd rejoiced in Snape's treatment of Harry in the past, but now that he was a Potter as well, would he fall victim to the same temper?

He'd approached Snape in the kitchen, hoping to find out. He didn't know what he'd planned to do—simply ask Snape if he hated him now, perhaps?

But Snape had suddenly turned to see Draco lurking behind him, and before the Potions Master had yet registered that the Potter twin beside him bore no glasses or scar, his brow had furrowed, and his mouth had curled into a sneer.

It had only been for a moment, and the expression had disappeared beneath the normal aloof countenance almost immediately, but Draco had seen it, and he'd fled to a seat at the table next to Tonks, all his courage lost.

Snape was the only person here who hadn't loathed the son of Lucius Malfoy. Well, maybe Dumbledore hadn't loathed him, but they surely hadn't been friends. Draco decided that if Snape's reaction to his new heritage turned out to be the shared opinion of all his Slytherin acquaintances, he wasn't ready to hear it yet.

Not everyone in his dorms was as under the thumb of their Death Eater parents as he had been, so a few might stand by him, but if Snape and the rest of Slytherin did abandon him, where did that leave him?

Back with Potter and posse.

So even after spending so long feeding a hatred born of jealousy and a rejected hand of friendship, to reject that hand now seemed daft. He decided he would let Harry take the lead on their newfound tabula rasa. He wasn't going to just roll over if anyone baited him, but he was going to behave nicely and try to be friendly to Harry and his friends as long as they reciprocated.

As for taking it a step further and behaving as brothers…well, that would have to wait and see.

Draco pointedly ignored the other three boys in the room as he shuffled through some of his clothes left unshrunken at the top of his trunk. He'd been wearing the same thing for two days and was eager to change. After getting so little sleep the night before, he figured he'd wash up and head to bed early, if only to get round socializing with his new roommates. He found his pyjamas, and slipped out of the room and into the hall bath Lupin had pointed out, avoiding looking at the Gryffindors whispering across the room.


Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Draco gathered up some clothing and silently left the room. Neville's casual revelation regarding Draco's behaviour had been pestering him all evening. Apart from the taunts exchanged when Harry'd first arrived, the Slytherin had been very quiet.

He definitely wasn't up to his normal bullying standards. Harry figured some of it was shock—Draco had just found out he was a Potter and not in fact heir to his father's fortunes—that was bound to put any Malfoy off his game. Even so, Harry really did believe what Draco had told them about not wanting to join Voldemort. Maybe it was wishful thinking getting the better of him, but Harry was having a hard time suppressing his hopes that Draco could turn over a new leaf.

He wanted to believe that his parents' other son could be a good person.

"What was Dumbledore thinking, making us share a room with Malfoy?" Harry heard Ron grumble for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes.

"Hey, Ron?" Since Harry found himself compelled to give Draco a shot at proving he could change, he wanted his friends to do the same. "Lay off a bit, will you? I meant what I said about starting over."

"I know you meant it, Harry, but I'm not as eager to trust him as you are. You can't have already forgotten everything he's done to us!"

"Of course not! But… he's my brother."

Ron grew quiet at that, an uncomfortable look on his face. "I wish you wouldn't remind me," he finally muttered. "Seeing him going about looking like you is bad enough."

"You know he can't help it, Ron, and like it or not he is my twin."

There was a sharp rap on their door, but before any of them could go answer it, the door opened and Ginny's head popped through.

"It's Hermione and me. Can we come in?"

"Sure," Harry invited, and they entered. The five of them settled on Neville and Harry's beds.

"Where's Luna?" asked Neville.

"She said something about checking the attic for invisible colonies of something or other after dinner and disappeared," Hermione frowned.

"Will she be all right?" Harry looked concerned. "There's some dark stuff hidden about this house; she could get in trouble."

Ginny reassured him with a grin. "She's fine. Sirius heard her and is following at a discreet distance. I think he was curious to see what she'd find. Besides, trouble only ever seems to bounce right off Luna." She giggled. "So…what were you talking about?"

"Ron doesn't want to sleep in here with Malfoy and Harry was defending him," Neville summarized.

"I wasn't—look, I was just saying that we ought to give Draco a chance." Harry stammered, picking at a line of stitching on the coverlet with his finger.

Ron gave Harry an odd look. "Since when do you call him Draco?"

"I don't know, but it'd be weird to call him Malfoy now, wouldn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "Well, where is he? I mean, where's…Draco?" Ron raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry's right, Ron. That's his name."

"I think he went to the washroom; he took clothes with him." Harry told her.

"Actually, Draco isn't his name," Ginny corrected.

They all looked at her, and she stared back. "Don't you remember? Sirius told us all that the Potters named him Jacob."

"Nobody mentioned that to me," Harry murmured darkly. "You'd think someone would have told me my own brother's name! Merlin, someone should have told me ages ago that he existed!"

"Ginny's right. Sirius said he used to be Jacob Evan Potter," Hermione supplied gingerly, sensing Harry ready to unleash.

"Evan. Probably after my mum. Before she and my dad got married she was Lily Evans."

Harry James and Jacob Evan.

He hadn't even noticed it coming on, but Harry suddenly found that Draco being his brother really mattered. He felt hot, deep anger rising inside him at Lucius, Wormtail and Voldemort. How dare they take his flesh and blood from him? Draco—Jacob—was his twin brother, and that meant more than any childhood feud ever could.

"Damn Wormtail! This never should have happened. We should have grown up together. Heh—then again, imagine how the Dursleys would have reacted to having to take in two orphans," Harry laughed bitterly.

"You know someone would have told you about him if they'd known he was alive," Hermione said gently, covering his hand with her own and stilling it as it sketched over another line of embroidery in agitation. "You know now, and that's what matters."

"Whatever his name is, I still can't believe we have to sleep in the same room as him," Ron snipped again.

"Ronald Weasley!" Ginny had seen the look on Harry's face, and her voice was sharp and ferocious. "Harry has a brother now—family! The both of them are dealing with the news as best as they can, and it'll be hard, but they're trying to make it work. And all you can think about are your stupid sleeping arrangements! I thought Harry was your best friend, but you obviously don't care enough to back him up when he could use your support!"

Ron gaped at his sister, and looked like he wanted to mount a protest, until he glanced at Harry, snapped his mouth shut, and muttered an apology.

"I guess I don't understand it, Harry, but if you really want to give Mal—er—Draco a chance, I can try too," he said reluctantly.

Harry's face was still in turmoil, but he managed a weak smile at his friend. "Thanks, Ron. You have brothers to spare; I've just got the one … and I need to make this work. I have to."

"Okay then," Ron acquiesced grudgingly, "I'm with you, mate."

Ginny grinned at her brother. "Head like a block of wood, you have. Good to see you can manage to see sense."

Hermione, who'd taken plenty of abuse from Draco herself, did sympathize with Ron's feelings, even if she found it easier to rise above it. "Think of him as a sort of reform project, Ron, and don't let his manners get to you. Imagine the way he grew up with the Malfoys! If you'd learned how to behave from Lucius Malfoy, how would you deal with all this? Draco's taken things rather gracefully, if you stop to consider it. Nothing's ever going to be the same for him again! It really makes me feel sorry for him, in a way."

It was a sobering sentiment.

They all looked up as the door opened and Draco walked in, wearing his nightclothes.

The Slytherin looked surprised to see how the group had increased in his absence, but he nodded politely at them and carried on past to his bed. He shoved his crumpled pants and shirt into his trunk, then climbed onto the bed and drew the curtains closed around him without a word.

"Real sociable, isn't he?" Ron snorted.

Ginny thwacked him on the arm.

"Sorry."

Despite the hour being only a quarter to ten, the conversation died down very quickly after that, as none of them wanted to gossip with Draco only a bed away. They talked quietly a bit about their summers, catching Harry up on the news they'd bestowed on Draco earlier, but the soft friendly chatter soon wore out, as the excitement of the day had them yawning to follow Draco's example.

The girls headed off for their own room, presumably to also find Luna somewhere along the way.

The boys tried to hold out a bit longer, nattering about the latest happenings in the Quidditch leagues, but before long, they too changed and got into bed.

Harry tossed about on his bed long after Ron's snores began. Having at last made up his mind to make a friendship with Draco work, he now worried how receptive Draco was going to be. They may be brothers, but he had no idea what they had in common.

Well, there was Quidditch. They both liked that.

It didn't seem like much, but if he got desperate, it was a place to start.

Harry sighed into the darkened room. He'd been nervous enough about starting this school year with the threat of the prophecy hanging over his head. Now he had an estranged brother to deal with as well. He rolled over and stuffed his head under his pillow as he wondered why it was always his life that fate decided to shake up.


Lucius Malfoy stalked into a dark mouldy cell, Narcissa trailing behind him, turning up her nose at the rank odour. In the corner of the cell, under a narrow beam of hazy light seeping through a crack in the stone above, huddled a dark-haired man and a red-haired woman, each cradling an infant in their arms.

"James Potter," said Lucius disdainfully, "I see you've managed to start quite the little family."

Narcissa peered around her husband and her eyes widened greedily when she saw the Potters. "Lucius," she whined, tugging on her husband's sleeve and eying the babies, "I want one too!"

Lucius frowned at his wife, who was conjuring up a lacy bassinet and transfiguring her elegant robes into clothing more like Lily's casual Muggle dress.

"They're nothing but a disappointment in the end, dear," he said.

"Yes, but I still want one," Narcissa begged. "The Dark Lord wouldn't mind—he might even find it useful," she wheedled.

Lucius stroked his chin. Apart from the gloomy corner the Potters crouched in, the cell now looked like a darling little nursery with baby blue walls.

"All right, my dear," Lucius agreed. "As long as the Dark Lord says it's fine with him."

Narcissa clapped her hands with glee and pointed into the shadows behind James and Lily.

Voldemort stepped out of the darkness, looming over the Potters, who gaped up at him in horror, each of them trying to shield the infant they were holding from the evil wizard's red glare.

"No!" shouted James. "You can't take my sons!"

Tears were streaming from Lily's eyes.

"My dear Mr. Potter," hissed Voldemort through a wicked grin. "I only need one!"

He pointed his wand, and an awful red light emerged from the tip and snaked its way slowly, teasingly, though the air. The Potters tried to run from the spell, but they couldn't seem to step from the dank stone dungeon into the nursery in which the Malfoys stood. The horrible red curse curled tauntingly around James' body before sinking into the head of the baby he held.

The baby started crying immediately, and James could only look on as the newborn's eyes took on the same foul red glow as Voldemort's, its nose became snakelike, and finally its cries turned to hisses emitted from a mouth filled with miniature fangs.

James held the infant away from himself, terror and revulsion on his face. Lily turned her back, her tears washing over the tiny hand of the baby she held, as it patted its mother's cheek.

Eyes wide, James turned and held out the red-eyed child towards the Malfoys.

Lucius smiled haughtily and nodded to his wife, who rushed forward and snatched the baby from James, with a delighted coo.

James' arms fell slackly to his sides, as if they had lost all purpose without the baby to hold. He slowly turned and went to Lily's side, draping a limp arm about her and gazing down at the infant in her arms—rosy cheeked and smiling, with wisps of dark hair and bright green eyes—perfect and whole.

On the other side of the divide between dungeon and nursery, Narcissa beamed down at the monstrous child she held, even as it gnashed its fangs and beat against her arms with its small fists. She laid the baby in the beautiful white cot, where nothing had ever looked more out of place.

As the Malfoys and the Potters each stared with wonder at the two vastly different children before them, the high, cold laugh of Voldemort echoed around them...

Draco shot up in his bed, wide-awake and drenched in a cold sweat.

The awful dream had him shaking, he noticed, as he ran a quivering hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He collapsed back against his pillows, wishing he could scrub the image of the red-eyed baby from his mind. The worst thing was that he knew he had been that infant, both in the nightmare and in real life.

Oh, he had never had fangs or glowing eyes, and his kidnapping had in reality happened quite differently, but moulding Draco into the image of Voldemort had been Lucius' goal, if in mind and spirit rather than physically.

Draco's throat felt raw, as if the entrapping ideology of his Malfoy parents had manifested into a noose that tried to choke him, just like they had hoped to choke all the goodness out of him. He hoped he hadn't been screaming in his sleep.

He listened for a moment to the sounds of the room and heard nothing but snores and deep breathing. If he had made any noise, he didn't seem to have woken anyone up. That was all well and good for them, but Draco was certain he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, and a peek through his bed curtains at the dirty window made it plain that it was still ridiculously early in the morning. There was only a feeble haze of sunlight beginning to brush the sky.

Draco slipped from between his covers and felt his way to his trunk. He found some fresh clothes and tucked them beneath his arm. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Draco snuck past the other beds, hoping that the floor wasn't prone to creaking. He made it to the door, which he opened carefully, and snuck out.

The lack of windows made it even darker in the hall, but he found the bathroom, and the lamps inside ignited as soon as he entered. He stripped and stepped into the shower to rinse the sticky sweat from his body, then towelled dry, rubbing his wet hair vigorously with the towel to shake out the last remnants of his nightmare.

He threw on his clothes quickly, rolling the cuffs of his pants up twice. He'd discovered the previous night upon changing into his pyjama pants, that the clothes he'd been wearing since leaving home remained a perfect fit merely because he'd been wearing them when Lucius removed the charm that had disguised him. The fit of his remaining wardrobe still wasn't a problem…except in the length of his trousers. He figured he'd lost about three inches, and all his pants would need to be shortened accordingly.

A glance in the mirror had him trying to comb back his damp hair with his fingers. He'd left it mussed yesterday in order to further his Harry impersonation, but now he attempted a tamer look. A moment's fussing made it plain that the mop of dark hair just wouldn't lay flat, so he sighed at the futility of it and gave up. He wasn't in the mood to worry about his appearance just yet. "Don't worry, dear, the ladies will adore it," said the mirror.

Draco rolled his eyes.

As he made his way down two flights of stairs, he wondered if anyone else could be stirring at this hour. He saw the flicker of a fire burning as he neared the bottom of the steps to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, perhaps?

He came to a halt on the bottom step when he saw that the lone figure sitting by the fire was not the redheaded matron, but Harry.

"Oh, sorry," Draco faltered, "I didn't know anyone else was awake."

He turned to retrace his steps, but his brother's voice stopped him.

"You couldn't sleep either, then?"

Draco turned and tentatively moved further into the room. "Nightmare," he confessed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A bit past five, I think." Harry answered, still staring into the fire. "Hey—er, do you think we could talk?"

Draco blinked. "You want to talk?"

"Well, yeah. Don't you think we should?"

"I suppose," Draco agreed. It might be nice to see where this new civility would take them. He dragged another chair from the table over to the fire. He sat down casually, but clasped his hands tensely in his lap. And waited.

Harry turned his eyes from the fire, and wondered where to start. "Do you hate it?" he found himself blurting out. "Being a Potter, I mean. You always seemed pretty pleased with being a Malfoy."

That hadn't been quite what Draco was expecting to hear.

"I—no, I don't hate it," He began slowly. "I think I might've at first; I was in enough shock, but…being a Malfoy isn't all it's cracked up to be," he admitted. "I never really was allowed to do anything Lucius didn't approve of, and now that he's not around, I can hear myself think, you know?"

"I think I do," acknowledged Harry, remembering his life before Hogwarts, when his primary concern was always how best to please the Dursleys in order to avoid punishment.

"It's like, when I first found out, I was so focused on getting out of there, and being angry, that it took a while before I really thought too much about being a Potter, and by then I'd already decided that my life as a Malfoy didn't look as attractive as it had from the inside. Everyone at Hogwarts thinks I get away with everything; but it's mostly because my father never cared to pay much attention as long as I agreed with everything he said and behaved like he thought I should." Draco reddened, feeling vulnerable at having offered up that much honesty; he'd never been the type to share much of his inner feelings with anyone.

"So now you're thinking for yourself, you've managed to notice what a great evil prick Voldemort is?" Harry teased.

A week ago that sort of a remark would have had Draco snarking back at Harry until both their wands were raised and sparking. Now Draco just laughed softly.

The sound took Harry by surprise—he didn't think he'd ever heard Draco laugh before without it sounding malicious. He found it made Draco seem more human, and smiled back.

"I am sorry, you know," Draco told him. "About all the rotten stuff I've said. I can't claim it was all just about making Lucius happy—I went along with him pretty happily."

"Yeah. You were a right git," Harry grinned, cocking his head and considering the boy across from him. "'Course, I'm still trying to figure if the past tense is appropriate."

"It must be the face," shot back Draco. "It gives off that 'stupid prat' impression."

"You know you're just insulting yourself now, don't you?"

"Well," Draco sniffed, suppressing amusement. "I wear it better."

Harry scoffed. "Sure you do. …Anyway, apology accepted. And I'm sorry too."

A smile slowly crossed Draco's face. This was going better than he could have hoped. Harry wasn't that difficult to get along with now that they'd both removed the chips from their shoulders.

Harry's thoughts were running in the same direction. He wondered if they would have become friends on their own in first year if they hadn't been doomed by Lucius Malfoy's efforts and Hagrid's pre-conceived comments about Slytherins before Harry and Draco had even met. They were a lot alike; both stubborn, determined, and prone to trouble; both proud and loyal in their own ways, and both made to carry a huge amount of pressure unwillingly.

Now that they were forced to start fresh, it was surprisingly easy to talk together.

"You've been clear on what you think about the whole Death Eater thing now… what about, um, the stuff you've said to Hermione?" Harry was glad that Draco seemed to be serious about his new perspectives on Voldemort, but he had to know that his brother wasn't going keep up his disdainful remarks to one of his best friends.

Draco grimaced. "Call it growing up or whatever you want, but I think I've developed a new outlook on pureblood superiority."

"Why?" Harry asked, "Because you've realised you're not one after all?" He really couldn't help being wary of the Slytherin's motivations.

"Maybe partly," Draco surprisingly agreed. "But I've thought it out some, and there's not much fact to support that way of thinking. That rotten stuff apology was supposed to include the blood comments too."

"You should say that to Hermione."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so."

Swallow your pride, he told himself. It's the least you can do. Draco wasn't used to making apologies, but he expected he did owe them to a few people. It just seems like this is all happening so fast!

"This is a bit weird, isn't it?" Harry laughed, stretching in his chair.

"Huh?" Draco said eloquently, startled from his thoughts.

"Us, talking like this," clarified Harry. "Two days ago neither of us knew we were related and we hated each other. Now we've been sitting here nearly half an hour, and no one's been hexed. It's bloody strange."

"I was just thinking something like that. You don't think we're going to start having twins' intuition and finishing each other's sentences and all that rot?"

Harry looked alarmed. "Merlin, I hope not! It's eerie enough seeing Fred and George do it."

Draco whole-heartedly agreed.

He scooted his chair back over to the end of the long table that stretched close to the hearth and plunked his elbows down. He ducked his head and regarded Harry beneath half-lidded eyes. "I'm glad, actually. To be a Potter, and…to have a brother."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the unexpected statement. He wondered if Draco had been mulling over his first question the entire time they'd been talking.

"Really? You said you didn't hate it, but I thought you'd still be a bit upset—you've kind of lost your parents, haven't you?"

"I don't miss Lucius one bit. I wasn't ever more than a means to an end to him. My mother…I dunno. I never saw too much of her. She was always pretty busy with her social engagements." Draco's eyes glazed over, looking into his past. "I think she cared in her own way, but she wasn't the type to get overly emotional. Weasley and Granger's mothers are pretty amazing, aren't they? I always wondered what it would be like to have a mother like that."

Draco's voice had been soft, and Harry was sure he was hearing things Draco'd never told to anyone else. He felt like he was at last seeing his brother clearly. He was very aware of his hopes for finding family in Draco, but now he realised that Draco might be hoping for the exact same thing from him.

"Yeah," whispered Harry. "I've wondered that too."

Both of them suddenly bashful, they watched the crackling of the low fire in silence.

The last minutes of sunrise ticked by in a comfortable quiet.

Neither of them even moved when a creak from the floor above indicated that the house was coming to life.

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley gasped and put her hand over her heart when she came down the stairs to start breakfast cooking and saw the two boys sitting there.

"Harry! Draco! What are you doing up so early? You gave me quite a fright! I hope you haven't been fighting," she admonished them sternly. "It seems to me you'll both be better off when you can learn to get on like proper brothers."

The boys exchanged smiles. Common ground had been established. They had a feeling it wasn't going to be a problem anymore.

By the time the rest of the household made it down for breakfast, Draco and Harry had been recruited as Mrs. Weasley's helpers, and between them, a hot breakfast was laid at the table.

The other Gryffindor students were hesitant when Draco sat down next to Harry, and conversation was awkward at first, but soon they were chatting casually together. Ron remained wary, concentrating mainly on his plate, but when Draco made an offhand mention of the Falmouth Falcons' League standings, they were off and running, debating Quidditch tactics enthusiastically.

None of them paid much attention when an owl swept in and dropped the day's Daily Prophet in front of Hermione.

"The Falcons have a top team this year, anyone can see that," Draco was arguing. "The Wasps are as brilliant as always, but they're going to have to step it up if they think they can get the Cup again without a fight from—"

"Oh bloody hell!"

All talk at the table stopped as faces turned towards Hermione, who was staring open-mouthed at the front page of the Prophet.

"Hermione?" Ron blinked. "Did you just curse?"

Hermione shot a quick glance of disapproval at Ron, but flipped the paper around and held it up so they could all see. "Take a look at this!"

Emblazoned in enormous black letters right across the top was the headline:

DRACO MALFOY: THE LOST BROTHER OF HARRY POTTER?

"Oh no," Harry gasped in dismay.

Sirius sprang to his feet and snatched the paper from Hermione. "Let me see that!"

He began scanning the article.

"Who could have told them?" Ginny cried.

"I'll give you three guesses." Draco's face was pale and twisted in fury.

Harry stared at him. "You mean…Mr. Malfoy? But why announce it like that?"

"I ran," Draco shrugged simply. "He used to control me, and I'm not letting him anymore. If he and the Dark Lord can't use me like they wanted, he's going to make damn sure I know he can still manipulate my future. Lucius doesn't know exactly where I'm hiding, but he's probably made a good guess as to who I'm with. There's no way he would risk us releasing this information on our own terms."

Sirius let out a snort, and they looked up.

"What is it, Sirius?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think Draco's assessment is far off," he replied. "Listen to this: 'Our source has revealed that the late Lily Potter had twins on the night Wizarding Saviour Harry Potter was born. The Potters, being concerned with safeguarding two sons in those turbulent times, gave over the second-born boy to family friends Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy for adoption. The Malfoys were happy to raise the unwanted child as their own.'" Sirius snorted again. "Family friends indeed! And unwanted? Do they honestly think anyone will believe that?"

"Certainly not anyone who knew the Potters," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "What a cruel lie!"

"The 'unnamed source' goes on to say that the Malfoys have just gently broken the news to their adopted son. They were concerned what effect an unstable boy like Harry Potter might have on the character of fine young Draco, but Draco, determined to reunite with his brother, ran away from home to seek him out. The Malfoys are sick with worry, and request that anyone knowing the location of their son alert the Ministry," read Sirius sarcastically.

"They're just trying to smoke him out!" Hermione said in dismay.

"Can we do anything about this?" Harry had plenty of experience dealing with the lies printed in the Daily Prophet, but he was concerned about how Draco would react to them.

Draco was irate. Things between him and Harry had just been settled, and now this. He was still worrying about how the recent discoveries would affect going back to Hogwarts, and now, thanks to a few galleons slipped into the right palm at the Prophet, the entire Wizarding world knew he was Harry's brother.

Remus took the paper from Sirius and read through the article himself. "I think we need to contact Dumbledore," he said.

Ron leaned over towards Harry. "Do you suppose you could have Rita Skeeter write the truth in another article for The Quibbler? Hey, Hermione—"

Harry never heard the rest of Ron's sentence, for just then stars exploded in front of his eyes as his scar gave a tremendous throb of stinging pain.

He faintly heard Ginny cry his name next to him as he clenched his eyes shut and waves of dizziness escorted him into the darkness of unconsciousness.

"Do you have good news for me, Macnair?" Harry hissed, glowering down at the robed Death Eater genuflecting before him. His chest felt tight with anger and hate.

"My lord, no one's been able to locate him yet," the Death Eater said reluctantly.

Harry's face contorted in rage and he wrenched the wand he held in long, thin fingers in a slashing motion in front of him. Macnair crumpled to the ground writhing in pain. His mask fell away to reveal his moustachioed face…and little trails of blood that trickled from the corners of his eyes and mouth. He did not rise, but continued to emit muffled groans.

Harry looked towards another Death Eater standing in the rear of the room. "Lucius," he called, "I seem to be having more trouble with your Potter brat than you promised me."

Lucius Malfoy moved forward and knelt, yet he looked Harry directly in the eye. "I assure you, my lord, he will not be allowed to become a threat to you."

"Ah, you have a plan, then? How exciting."

"Yes, master. I believe Dumbledore is hiding him somewhere, but he will be vulnerable soon. With your permission, I will send several Death Eaters to—"

"Harry!"

Harry felt himself being shaken, and slowly prised his eyes open to see several faces swimming above him. He must have collapsed backwards off his chair, because he seemed to be lying on the stone floor. Remus was behind him, and helped him move into a sitting position.

He became aware that Mrs. Weasley and Sirius were beside him as well when Mrs Weasley pressed a cool cloth over his inflamed scar, and Sirius thrust a glass of water into his hands and told him to drink.

His friends' faces floated in front of him.

"Did you have a vision?" Hermione was asking.

Harry tried to nod, but the motion made his eyes cross, so he said yes instead.

"It's okay, Harry, don't try to move too quickly if you're not ready," Ginny spoke soothingly from his right side. She was clutching his arm.

It occurred to him that the only person he didn't see fluttering about him was Draco.

No sooner did he have the thought than he heard his brother's voice.

"What—"

Harry looked over to see Draco standing a couple paces from the hovering group.

Draco had a hand to his temple, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He shook his head as if trying to clear it and opened his eyes, which widened gradually as he stared at Harry. He cleared his throat and started again.

"What the hell was that?"

Harry gawped at him. Did Draco see that too? He wondered. It seemed so, but Harry wasn't sure how it was possible.

"Calling Dumbledore is a good idea," Harry rasped, without unlocking his gaze from Draco's. "I think we have more than one problem to discuss."


If every person that reads this story reviewed it just once, I would be a very happy author!