Disclaimer: God owns my soul, my cat owns my heart, my ex owns my… rear…and my leasing agent owns my rental. Me… I own nothing.

A Few Weeks Earlier, Draco's PoV:

Casting one last Scourgify to clean up spilt butterbeer, firewhiskey, and the odd spill of mead, Draco looked around, pleased. Then he saw the glitter. Sighing, he sent several rounds of Tergeo through the building, hunting up all the last bits of dust and dust-like substances. Then it was time to polish the wood, and clean the table cloths; of course, mustn't forget the curtains! He smiled to himself, as he cast cleaning spell after cleaning spell. To have been bonded so long, he still surprised himself, not to mention others, with just how domestic he really was.

Then again, Pansy never had been, so with the house elves a distant memory, it was his skills taking care of his mum, Pansy and her flavor-of-the week, and himself. Though, to be fair, this last one had stuck around two years and even proposed before the bond broke. Still, silver eyes shining with a delight not visible on his oh-so-carefully-blank face, he wondered how the two were doing without his myriad talents to keep the house.

He smiled as he thought of his wedding gift to her; Pansy still didn't know he'd bought one. It would, of course, never even occur to her, making it the best surprise he could give, short of the freedom from the bond, itself, of course.

He frowned, once again wondering how it had broken, and how all this bloody painful feathery mess had happened. He also was terrified about what it meant in the future; for him and for his mother. It would be the worst kind of fate for her to survive that monster, live through the trials, finish out her probation and restitution, just begin building their wealth and status back to what it was once, and have something like this yet again threatening to take everything, including her life, away from her. There had to be something he could do to save her, there had to be!

Knowing there was nothing, yet AGAIN, that he could do for his family right now, he put it out of his mind, and focused on the present. He had several businesses to run, and a few were ready for expansion into foreign markets. As soon as he was done cleaning up here, he had a few orders to sign, then he needed to head over to his solicitor's, and see about the research into new locations, and the related tax laws. Research, bleh. Necessary evil, though, the blond supposed.

Smiling, he surveyed his efforts, and satisfied at last, put his wand back into his wrist holster, and hips swinging, and wings twitching, and humming to himself in contentment, he went into his office to sit down and write. He only managed his third sheet of pages before the first wave of pain hit. No, not again! What else can be done to me? How much more of a freak will I become? Even while panic filled internally, and pain plaguing his body in waves of agony, mainly shooting down his wings, he continued to sign. In a furious flurry, document after document was signed and with wordless, wandless magic, sealed and sent on its way to whatever file or mail carrier bird it was destined for. He only had time to breath a quick sigh of relief before he hit the floor.

When he woke, once again in the sterile environs of St. Mungo's, he had the joy of hearing his employees had found him, saving his life. He had in the course of one morning, gained six new life debts. Joy.

Even more good news: the trial had been postponed for a day, and Nadine was the bearer of the happy news about his life-debt status. It seemed she wanted permission to discharge them for him so she could assume them from his employees. Draco adamantly, with multiple Healer witnesses, refused. The last thing he needed was for her to have more control over his life.

Then, the pain began again, and before he could even understand what was happening, once again, he was out. Then next time he woke, it was to a healer alternately murmuring comforting things to him about how "very sorry Mr. Malfoy, I know it hurts, but we can't give you anything as we don't know what it will do, but the pain will be over soon, I promise. It will be okay, please stop crying," and yelling at his fellows to "Hold him, damn it, I can't save him if he keeps thrashing like this!" He knew he was either in a nightmare or one of the darkest versions of Hell whichever deity had taken an interest in him had control over, when he heard a cry of "Sectumsempra." Thankfully, before he could find out which, he was out again.

The next time he woke, he was being bathed in a sink, and his reflection horrified him. He tried to cry out, beg for it to be untrue, but he was unused to his new syrinx, and only made a series of piercing, flutelike calls. At least that alerted the healer, whom began to chatter as he washed his new avian patent. He was, to his abject horror, told it had been nearly two weeks since he last awoke. He had missed Nadine's turn, and his chance to question her. Worse, several Aurors had taken the stands already, and testified to the hells his father had done to him. Unless he could testify; and soon, his mother was next. With water pouring down his, oh the indignities of it all, his BILL… he was out again.

The next time he woke… he was human again, and it was the same day. He gathered all the back issues of the Prophet he could get a hold of, and demanded he be discharged. He was going to save his mother!

Currently, Harry's PoV:

After the verdict had been read, Draco and his mother clinging to each other so pathetically, everyone filed out, surprisingly quickly. No one wanted to wait around, especially with the treaty negotiations beginning tomorrow. Nadine cornered Harry. "Have you reconsidered? I kept my bargain! I kept the more harmful details about what was done to him out of the trial. Now, you must listen to me - that was our deal!"

Harry flinched. He must've been drunk, even if he hadn't had so much as a single butterbeer in three weeks. Otherwise, why would he have wanted to spare Malfoy the hurt of knowing just what his father had done to him, and the humiliation of everyone else knowing as well. Drunk. Had to have been.

Nadine kept on. "Here, these are the notes the Aurors found. Lists of spells and a diagram of the ritual he," and Harry interrupted her midsentence.

"You didn't keep the worst out. You made him talk about his false bonding, which was private and probably humiliating. Why would you do that?" She sighed; he really hadn't been listening to anything she'd said, had he?

"Because his bond might have prevented him making a soul bond or better still eternal soul bond, which will keep him alive. We had to know. We also had to know what he knew about who cast it, and how and why. His mother's memories were mostly compromised, so she was excused the more rigorous questioning about the ritual and the bonding, but it was her memories about the bond that clued us in. She went from arguing with Lucius about the bond to agreeing and suggesting he officiate in seconds with no reason for her to change her mind. Something happened. But, she was looking right at him, and they were alone in the room, so he didn't cast Imperio. It would have been seen by us watching her memories – as she should have seen it in life. Her memories were altered, and shoddily to leave such obvious evidence."

Harry thought, strongly, Malfoy should know his mother had wanted to prevent his farce of a bonding. He also knew his thoughts didn't matter. "We don't know when her memories were altered, and if she participated in any of it or not. If participation occurred we can't know how much was voluntary and how much was manipulation. We needed Draco to help us find out. We had no choice but to ask him. His answers, however, cleared up nothing."

Nadine was a bitch of a bird; that much was clear. She held out the soul dampener that Lucius had used as part of the nasty, soul binding ritualized spell he'd cast upon his son at birth. It was a necklace, if he recognizes it, he's the one, and so much time is saved, Nadine whispered harshly, "Lucius never let him remove it. See the blood? It was cut from his body – it had burned itself into his body! St. Mungo's can be ruthless, but no more so than him. He wore this every day of his life, never knowing it was the chains to his prison; a prison that is leading to his death and has several times already nearly taken him there. You can stop it; he'll never agree to come for us. With you, he has no choice!"

The bloody, gore covered, and slightly charred looking object brought back so many dark memories from the war, especially the times towards the end, Harry nearly vomited from its closeness. As it was, it was hardly recognizable as jewelry, much less anything Harry might have seen on Draco before, and as Draco's personal stalker during much of their history, he rather felt he should've known it. He turned his head and fought not to be sick. Nadine felt much disappointment; no, of course he wasn't the one, why would they see each other, touch each other…

"Exactly! No choice! I've been used that way myself, I know how it feels, and I swore, I SWORE, never again! Besides, if he'll really die without this, don't you think that alone would sway him? If not, mention the pain – he hates pain, and he's already been put through enough I'm sure he'll believe you." Harry was sorely tempted to hit something.

Even Hermione'd been unable to find the club's owner's name; he'd opened it under a Fidelius charm, surprisingly inventive, on his name instead of his building. Even the Ministry workers whom had processed his papers could not tell, nor did his name appear upon any documents. Harry had just about as frustrating a last few months as he could take. The trial had been exhausting, Nadine had been relentless, and the owner, his hot wizard, had not been back. Fortunately, with his new card, he could get in free, and was under no obligations to drink. Though, he did sort of wonder about the new décor… why change the oil lamps for magical ones? Did someone try to set the club on fire? Or was this just someone's change in taste?

If that wasn't enough to tax his already limited patience, this … was harassing him at every opportunity, most of which she contrived. The brunet was sorely tempted to sic Ron on her; with his hit first, maybe ask questions later, and never, ever apologize or regret later, he'd most certainly fix this appalling attitude of hers. Besides, Ron really could care less if Malfoy lived or died, which made him less susceptible; like it or not, Harry knew he did, or he would never have spoken for the Malfoys at their respective trials.

He felt a surge of pride at that, knowing his testimony had done the trick, kept them out of Azkaban. He'd been so busy, other than seeing a headline in the Prophet, he'd not really known, at the time, he'd far too many trials, and had not gotten to see the end of many. Though, he had to say, he was rather glad in most cases, a more Muggle death sentence had been granted, with an executioner, rather than the kiss. Once it began to be obvious the Marks were fading off the compelled and poisoning the loyal, became even more merciful. Still, especially now, with all he'd done to his own family coming to light, Lucius deserved the kiss he'd received.

Green eyes opened with a start. He'd been off in his own ruminations so long he'd forgotten that Dumbledore clone in a Veela's blond body, was still ranting at him Hermione style. He sighed; knowing it was inevitable he'd give in eventually, and wanting to get this over with. "Look, I don't know how I feel about this. I want to help you, and help Malfoy, I do; but I refuse to force someone to do something they don't want to do, even for their own good."

"Lousy parent you'll make," the blond snorted, suddenly glad this man was not a candidate for the consort of her future King. The brunet gritted his teeth, and held back a rude comment begging for release.

"Just give me a few days, to find some way to get him to see reason without leaving him no choice. I'll even ask Hermione to help." Nadine was delighted; the elf-loving girl had impressed her so much, she was being offered a position on the Council as an adjunct advisor, the first human ever to be so offered in their long history as a species. She was even helping draft the new treaties, even plotting loopholes allowing future renegotiations once their royals were crowned. She felt certain, in a self-satisfied sort of way, the woman would do the right thing by the Veela species.

A few days later, when Harry agreed to meet her for lunch, sans a very peeved off Ron, Harry found, to his profound disappointment but not his surprise, both Nadine and he were right. She found a way to make them both happy; or at least answer both of their concerns, even if nether really liked the results.

"Seriously, Hermione? This is complete bollocks! You want me to court Draco to force him to accept the court of other people?"

"Well, he has several ways to refuse, Harry – you did say you wanted him to have a choice, after all. This gives him one, more than one in fact. Now, first I want you to tell me all about what details Nadine gave you about the spells used by Lucius and then I'll tell you about all the ways out both you and Draco have. Deal?"

Sourly, he agreed. "He started by casting something I'm unfamiliar with, here's the notes I took," Harry tossed a scroll at her, which she quickly glanced over.

"Oh! It's a counter-spell for Avis… maybe to attempt to counter Draco's bird nature?"

"I guess so," he uncertainly replied, continuing, "then he started with some more specific spells, like Conjunctivitus to attack his eyes. Unless he wanted him in glasses like me, I've no idea why he'd cast that one."

"Birds eyes, especially raptors, are much better than ours, Harry. They can see eight times as much, in further directions, wider spectrum range, and some can even see polarized light." She answered him in a reflexive tone, still scanning the notes, almost not even listening to him. Still, for his part, Harry was amazed. He'd no idea the eyes of birds were so advanced; if Lucius was attempting to make Draco more human and less Veela, he supposed with this information, attacking his newborn's eyes made a sick and painfully twisted sort of sense.

"He Evanesco'd several organs, and Deprimo'd others, including his heart. He killed his own son, Hermione, if only until he could re- Enervate him. His newborn son!" The horror Harry felt, and the betrayal on Draco's behalf, were indescribable.

The frizzy haired witch nodded absently as she continued to read. "Oppugno? Even if he'd been less of a prat, he'd never stood a chance in Hagrid's classes; no wonder he hated Magical Creatures so! Really inspired, though – it made his chances of other Veela helping him before it all broke fade to nothing." Hermione suddenly exclaimed. Green eyes narrowed, he didn't want to think any part of Lucius's conjurings was inspired, unless one meant 'inspired to evil.' "Still awful as it all was, the Ferula at the end shows he still cared somewhat. He at least cared enough to sooth some of Draco's suffering." She murmured.

Harry was incensed. How could any of that torture be called 'caring?' It was anything but! "Wow. Duel casting Petrificus Totalus wordlessly and wandlessly on his off hand while normally casting Silencio with his main hand… that's impressive!" Hermione gave a low whistle, then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you think he would have sang his own duets if his father had not destroyed his syrinx? Or that now that it is recovered, he might try now?"

Green eyes blinked in confusion; where did that come from? "Umm… I don't know…?" He shrugged his shoulders.

This vein continued until late in the afternoon and Hermione had to go back. She had promised Ron she'd be home by now, you see. But, in keeping with her deal, she promised she would write Harry a letter explaining all about the courting. He'd get it first thing in the morning!