Seraphwalker: Thanks. ^_^ I try to keep all of my storylines on increasing levels of development. Don't worry, I have two more great ones in the outline stages that'll be just as good or better than the two I have going on now.

Miriam1: Harry's reactions are a little hard to pin down until I'm actually writing the scene, so it's always a surprise to me too. It depends on the subtleties int he conversation, so the outline doesn't really do much more for me than tell me what the final result of the thought processes are.

Bownbey: Seers always do know more than they let on. ^_^

Cherrie-san: All members of the Anatidae family are evil, and we shall not forget this.

Lin: Stress is a huge factor in this, but it'll start balancing out soon.

Harry refused to take another step. The State Rooms was actually one enormous room with different sections to it if one didn't include the office, which was in one of the roof pavilions up a spiral stair. Even the bathtub and such were all in one area that was screened off from the rest of the chamber, but those could easily be removed if one wished, or even linked together to form a sort of wall. The windows were high and framed by elaborately embroidered curtains that would block out all sunlight if closed for a daytime rest. The best of everything in the Manor at large was located here, from the plush carpet to the ceiling art. Harry wasn't one for opulence to begin with, so the whole thing made him feel out of sorts. The great chamber had been politely offered, though, and he had accepted. He would simply have to get used to the ridiculousness of it all.

That wasn't what was making his hair stand up.

It was the energy in the room he couldn't stand.

"I apologize, Harry," Narcissa said behind him. Both she and Lucius were further back in the Long Gallery and away from the door. No doubt they could feel it too, and they were both clearly uncomfortable. "We were unaware of this problem. Only the elves have been here to clean since-" she trailed off when Harry put his hand up.

"I'll fix it," Harry assured them. "Just wait a moment." He stepped into the beautiful, brightly lit, enormous room and felt as if he had stepped into a dense and toxic fog.

Harry knew that very powerful people and the magic they carried, tended to permeate the places they lived in with their personality and feelings. The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts still had the shimmery, floating feel of Dumbledore about it, though Minerva's oak-like strength was beginning to mix with it. Likewise the Burrow felt happily frantic and buzzed with the zippy yet gentle air of Molly Weasley. For the most part the Manor felt at peace and relieved, though mildly depressed.

THIS room though… it felt thick and dense. Heavy. Malevolent. Paranoid. Someone like Voldemort had a rather intense personality and power, and it had left its mark. Harry's eyes and senses perceived different things. He saw a lovely, clean, welcomingly bright room while feeling like he was trying to walk and breathe through a room full of black, rancid pond scum. He shuddered in revulsion, but made his way to the center of the space regardless. There, he closed his eyes and entered a light meditation.

There were a lot of ways to dispel energy like this. Some used brooms to symbolically sweep it out of the air and out the windows. Some absorbed it and put it into the ground by envisioning roots for it to travel down, or a shaft of light to send it skyward. Harry had his own way and it had never failed him. He planted his feet and took a deep, long, even breath, and allowed it to enter his lungs. At first it made him want to gag. He nearly did. He'd had too much of Voldemort's aftermath to get rid of to stop now, though, so he opened his eyes and blew out in what he saw as a thick, even column of billowing black smoke. He let the energy channel through him like a filter; passing out of him via this smoke to materialize outside where it dissipated like any other smoke would from a chimney. Breath by breath Harry took in, altered, and expelled whatever negativity he could sense about him or within him. As he continued the smoke he envisioned began to get lighter; not because he was deliberately changing the visualization, but because there was simply less negativity to color it.

He did this for fifteen minutes until he could breathe easily. The room was clean, the air was clear, and Harry had even dispelled some of his own frustration in the process. The very last remnant of Voldemort's stay was now cleansed from the Manor. When Harry finally opened his eyes it looked like the same room he had seen upon arriving, though now he could certainly live in it and rest well.

He smiled and turned to the two in the gallery. "Better?" He blinked in confusion when they stared blankly at him. "What?"

"You dispelled it so easily," Lucius observed. "How?"

Harry shrugged. "I think it has something to do with being familiar with it. I had a bond, intentional or not, with Voldemort for most of my life. Knowing how to manipulate his icky aura is just part of that, I guess. Experience."

"I see," Narcissa said slowly. "Are you weary? That must have taken a great effort. I expect a cleansing of that quality would have taken days for most anyone else."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Come on, we've got things to discuss. Where should we sit?"

Lucius came in and motioned to a group of chairs that looked to be a breakfast nook close to the spiral stair in the back where the light from the windows shined pleasantly. When he snapped his fingers an elf Harry knew as a cranky one appeared to take Lucius's order. The man frowned. "Where is Zither?" he asked the elf. "She is Harry's servant on assignment."

"Oh!" Harry smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot! Damn it… Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are here helping Zither in the garden. She's in labor."

Narcissa's brow furrowed. "Is there a problem?"

"I hope not. They're mostly there to keep her company, I expect."

"But why? The House-Elves have always handled such things on their own. It has never been an issue before." Narcissa said plainly.

Harry gaped at her a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to shout, but that had sounded horribly offensive to him; as if a mother was explaining to her child that the kitty could do this by itself and company wasn't needed. But that was an animal, and this was a Being they were discussing. A sentient creature that could think and feel and fear just like a human or goblin or centaur or… and Harry remembered the House-Elf heads mounted on the walls in the Black home and understood. She had been raised to believe that their servants were no better than livestock – not even on the level of pets that should be cared for. Most of the protesters of House-Elf Rights believed them to be no better than an infestation of cockroaches that just happened to clean and cook and wash laundry enough to justify postponing calling the exterminator. If Harry had been brought up that way he had no idea if he would think the same way on a deep level even if he intellectually knew better. That sure as hell didn't excuse it, but it gave him a moment to calm himself before lashing out. When he looked up the woman had realized her mistake and had the good sense to look ashamed of herself.

"That was wrong of me to say. Of course she would like company, just as I would," she admitted.

That sounded as if she meant it, but Harry was wary. Every time he started to get to know the Malfoys well enough to think they had evolved beyond the equivalent of greasing the social ladder to watch people slip off they managed to remind him that they'd all been raised to be arseholes. Lucius was not saying anything, but wasn't looking at them either. He told the elf that had appeared to bring them much the same order Narcissa had put in when they had made the vow, complete with alcohol. Harry wondered what they had to tell him if it required that preemptively rather than after the difficult part.

For the moment he allowed Narcissa's statement to drop. Despite having cleared Voldemort's remnants from the room, it suddenly felt tense again.

"What did you need to tell me? Are we going to need another surrogate?" he asked to change the subject. The tension that had followed her comment began to thicken rather than dissolve, and Harry frowned.

"No, Harry. The research required to diagnose the cause of your affliction was extensive, but eventually a solution was found that meets all the requirements of our vow." Narcissa said slowly.

"And why do you sound unhappy about it?" Harry pressed.

Lucius cleared his throat. "It is quite complicated. It would seem that not all of your ancestry is completely human in nature."

Harry's train of thought ground to a screeching halt. "I'm sorry?"

Narcissa sighed. To Harry's great discomfort she slid to the floor and leaned her hands on Harry's knees the way she had explained the vow to Lucius those weeks ago. "What do you know about Cambion?"

Harry almost winced because he already had evidence of why Narcissa did this - it was to keep the person she was talking to calm while she explained something they wouldn't like. The word 'cambion' sounded familiar the same way anything else he had heard in school would, and he had no bad feelings about it in particular. Usually if a word he didn't recognize had a bad meaning he'd at least get a feeling about it even if he didn't remember what it was for. A look to Lucius being generally nervous about Harry's processing this question helped keep him grounded. If they thought he was going to throw a childish fit, they were overreacting. Narcissa had already said he would be able to have a baby with her, and that was good enough for him. So long as a sacrifice or something wasn't required (which he doubted since the vow had specified 'short of Dark Arts') Harry was alright.

"Nothing I can say beyond recognizing the word itself," he finally answered her.

"Then this will be a very long explanation. I trust you remember the tale of Merlin?" she pressed gently.

Harry snorted. "I'm a Wizard, aren't I?"

"That's starting a bit too early, Love," Lucius snorted.

Narcissa gave him a small amused smile and turned back to Harry with intent.

The explanation was a lot better than the ones Hermione offered him, which were wordy and entirely too detailed for his liking. All Harry ever needed was the main points, how it pertained to him directly, and he was fine with the little things taking care of themselves. Narcissa was very good at this. Her speeches seemed to take into account precisely the personality of her audience. Everything she had told him was done in an order and manner that made it easy for him to process one thing at a time, come to terms with it, and commit it to memory before moving on.

And after it all went through his head, Harry decided they were being entirely too dramatic about this.

The only terribly distressing thing about it all was that Harry now knew he had lost three parents instead of two. He wondered about his birth mother. If she had dark hair like his father. If that was where he had gotten his talents for non-verbal and wandless magic, which were things he was certain neither James or Lilly were particularly good at. He wondered if she knew loads about magical creatures and if that was where he had gotten his natural affinity for them. His father had been an animagus, but that wasn't the same thing. Likewise Harry's leadership skills seemed almost instinctive. James had been the head of a team of bullies in a very Dudley Dursley-like way, which always infuriated Harry when he thought about it, and Lily had a more passive 'let's talk it out' way of handling things. This third parent, his missing mother, had to have been the source or at least a contributing factor in Harry's extra set of leadership skills.

He wanted to know who she had been, and everything about her.

He WOULD find out.

In the meantime...

"Alright," he said. "So I had three parents, and it takes three people for me to make a baby. I get that. I'm not exactly human, which should have been obvious to begin with, really now that I think about it. It even makes sense that the ethereal nature of Cambion magic made my mother's sacrifice and my own stronger than it should have been. But, why are you two being so bizarre all of a sudden? It might be weird, but I don't think a one-off is much to get terribly concerned about. We're all adults here."

"Mainly because Lucius is not likely to be willingly compliant, Harry," Narcissa explained.

Lucius growled slightly and they looked to him; Harry with interest and Narcissa with concern. "You make it sound as if I will actively fight. That I will not do. Willing or not, refusing would mean your life. If giving Potter his heir meant I would have to die to fulfill your vow and keep you here, I would."

And now Harry had to say it out loud, didn't he? "Alright, I'll need further explanation if you're going to keep acting so off. At the moment it seems like you're both being entirely too dramatic about this whole thing. Why is my being a Cambion such a big deal? The vow hasn't changed, and there's only one more person involved in the actual baby-making process than we originally thought. So what's the problem?"

Lucius sat tightly in his chair. His 'slouch of villainy' as Harry liked to call it, was impossible to perform in his anxious state, so the man was simply sitting straight and watching carefully. Harry stood up and stopped by the fire. Narcissa sat in the chair Harry had been in, cleverly placed between Harry and her husband. She looked almost as frightened, though far more relaxed than he did. Whereas Lucius preferred to be as taught as a bowstring to spring to defend or launch himself away, Narcissa tended to remain relaxed so as to absorb and misdirect attacks more effectively.

Why they were afraid, Harry wanted to know. "I'm listening," he said calmly. "What is it that makes a one-off so difficult, Lucius?"

The blonde man took on a determined look for only a moment before he began to speak in short, blunt words. Clearly, Lucius had rehearsed it many times, cutting it to only the essential information. Fenrir Greyback had tortured him as punishment for his son's failure to identify Harry, his failure in keeping them all at the Manor until their Master arrived. It had traumatized him badly, Harry could tell by the way his body language and tone changed as if he couldn't control it - and Lucius was almost always very controlled.

Lucius did not falter until Harry asked for more detail. Then the man began to shake and would not look at anything but the floor as he wrung his hands tightly and told of monstrous things. He spoke of the way he had been subjected to being bent and positioned in ways the human body wasn't meant to until his joints and ligaments tore. He stammered through how the beast had clawed and bitten him. How the werewolf had actually swallowed the flesh he tore off, and how Lucius been forced to eat his own sick after he hadn't been able to handle the sound of his own flesh being chewed and vomited on the floor.

As Lucius neared the end of the tale he had to stop because his words were no longer coherent.

Now Harry understood why Lucius was so disturbed by the prospect of letting Harry touch him. It had little to do with Harry or sex and more to do with the touch itself.

The problem lie in Lucius's reaction to vulnerability. Fenrir hadn't raped Lucius, no, but he had hurt him; made him feel powerless, unworthy, violated - no - desecrated, and intruded upon. The werewolf had left scars that Harry was sure to eventually see all over the body of a man that had once valued his beauty and instead now felt used and filthy. The damage was all the more severe for the fact of the man's bigotry. If the attack had been committed merely by an insane Witch or Wizard rather than by a werewolf then the prejudiced man may not have been so hurt and disgusted by the experience as he had been. It made no sense to Harry, it was absolutely ridiculous, but it was no less true and something Harry would have to take into account when any interaction with Lucius occurred.

Because now Harry was, in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, a creature as well. As if the sex weren't enough of an attack on the deeply traumatized man's remaining pride; there would be a sense of manipulation and even thievery. Harry would be forcing pleasure during what Lucius would certainly see as a terrifying experience as well as taking his seed to use for his own purposes, no matter what those purposes may be.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. He needed to remember that Greyback was dead. Ron and Neville had brought him down at Hogwarts.

This actually irritated Harry now that he very much wanted to kill the cannibalistic bastard himself.

"I'm so sorry, Lucius." Harry received no answer. The older man was still staring off into space in the general direction of the floor, hair hanging into his face. Harry didn't get the feeling he was being ignored, merely that Lucius didn't trust himself to speak evenly just yet. Obligingly, Harry turned to Narcissa instead. "What about you and Draco?" he asked. "You've both been ill. Is that a result of my escape from the Manor too?"

Narcissa nodded. "My delicate health recently was a result of being under the Cruciatus for a length of time sufficient to cause physical damage. I was suffering a heightened sensitivity to pain, weak stomach, and an elevated startle reflex." She put up her hand for silence when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "I have recovered, and am well enough to bear your heir with no undue difficulty now."

"There aren't any other effects?" Harry pressed.

"None you need be concerned about." Harry almost asked her what she meant by that before she pressed on, and then he became too interested to interrupt. "Draco's illness is borne out of mourning. The punishment Lucius received was meant to be his. As any good father would, Lucius would not have it. He pleaded with the Dark Lord until he was allowed to suffer it in Draco's stead."

Lucius finally spoke. "If all my son suffered that night is mourning over my suffering, I am content enough."

Harry moved to sit again, this time in the seat beside Lucius, who gave him an annoyed look. "I heard once that Wizardkind are more affected by depression than Muggles, that the phrase 'dying of a broken heart' could actually apply."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. It would seem, though, that Draco is recovering. Lucius's constant monitoring of him, the assurances that Lucius is recovering as well, are helping."

Harry was silent for a while, as were the Malfoys. He thought and weighed everything he had heard. Then, "There was no time set on our vow."

Lucius's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Harry said clearly, ", that if we've solved the question of how, we can postpone the actual conception a little while so that Lucius isn't so miserable. Of course, that'll require you actually spending more time than breakfast with me."

Narcissa gave Harry a pleased smile. "That sounds like a good idea."