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"If we make such an enemy of the Minister as exposing him to the rest of the populace will," Severus said, "then we must prepare to raise strong defenses, or perhaps leave the country."
Harry leaned forwards. Draco frowned as he noted the pallor of his face. Someone taking the potions that he knew Harry was taking for the pain of the Gut Chewing Curse and the rearrangement of his intestines really should not be dashing around. But Harry's words showed how little he would welcome such fussing at the moment. "But would trying to make a compromise with him keep us any safer? I don't think it will, given that he seems more afraid of Huxley than of us."
"I think Harry's right," Draco murmured.
Severus turned and stared at him. Draco raised his head and tried to ignore the feeling that he was betraying Severus. There would be disagreements between the bondmates sometimes, that was all, and he would have to stand with the one he thought was right.
The warmth of Harry's hand on his shoulder was welcome, in the wake of that realization. Draco held Severus's eyes, however, as he took Swanfair's letter from his robe pocket, because Severus was the one he needed to convince. "There are already other people involved. They might consider it an insult if we tried to reconcile with the Minister. And as Harry pointed out, we simply can't trust Shacklebolt. He hates you, Severus, and he's indifferent as to whether I live or die. Even Harry's heroism—"
Harry snorted. Draco gave him a curious sidelong glance, and noticed Severus doing the same thing. Hmmm. It seems that Harry has some contempt for the things that he should be proudest of. That will be a problem in the future.
"—can't protect him from Shacklebolt's desire to play politics," Draco continued, as if he hadn't noticed the interruption. "It's true that we can't trust Swanfair and her kind, either, but at least we won't be taken off-guard by a desire to believe the best of them. I think it's most intelligent of us to accept what's happened as a fait accompli, accept that Shacklebolt has separated Harry decisively from the Ministry, and use the allies and the defenses that offer themselves, like publicity, to protect ourselves."
Severus let out a little grunt under his breath, still studying Swanfair's letter. Draco hid a smile. It was actually easy to manipulate Severus if one mentioned the intelligence of such and such a gambit. He was anxious not to appear stupid.
"But will that keep you safe?" Harry interrupted. "I want to do what will keep you safe, before anything else."
Once again, Severus glanced at Harry, this time over the top of the letter. Draco gave a shallow nod when those dark eyes turned to him, telling Severus he had noticed the thing missing in Harry's words. He wants to keep us safe. What about himself?
But that was something to be dealt with later. For now, Draco said, "Severus told me that the bond, if unraveled, is likely to undo everything that we've accomplished with it. So the Dark Marks would come back, and the Dark Lord, and—"
"And I would stop feeling as close to you as I do now, right?" Harry finished. "Of course we can't allow that to happen." There was a lingering note of horror in his voice.
Draco resisted the temptation to laugh in triumph, but it was hard. Severus lifted his head at the same time and said, with a brightness in his voice that Draco wondered if Harry would detect, "We cannot allow the bond to be unraveled, and I am not sure that Shacklebolt has given up the idea, or would believe us if we told him the truth. Yes, Harry. Call Skeeter."
Harry nodded without smiling, climbed to his feet, and turned in the direction of the front door. Severus cast a critical eye at his back and murmured a spell Draco didn't recognize. "What does that do?" he whispered, pushing closer to Severus across the couch.
"Keeps him on his feet a bit longer," Severus said. "He will need to collapse soon. So much constant exercise and dashing about is not recommended for someone recovering from the Gut Chewing Curse. But collapsing in front of the Minister, his Aurors, and Skeeter would be fatal for our project in more ways than one."
He put an arm around Draco's shoulder. It crushed down possessively, while his gaze tracked Harry just as possessively.
Draco closed his eyes to savor the sweetness of the moment. He knew he might as well, since they were unlikely to have many chances to do so in the near future.
We do have a bond. It will become stronger than just the mindless clash of our personalities.
We will be more magnificent than anyone thinks we can be.
*
"Well. Well."
`Skeeter sounded as if she would roll over dead of happiness at any moment. Harry smiled at her wryly and leaned against the wall in what he hoped looked like a casual gesture. In reality, he felt as if he needed the wall to hold him up, but he was not going to admit that to Skeeter. He avoided looking at Kingsley's face, too, He knew the expression the Minister was wearing would only distress him.
Skeeter wagged a finger at Kingsley. "Was the Minister naughty to Harry the Hero?" she asked. "Bad Minister. You ought to know where the public sympathy is by now, and you're doing little if anything to win it to your side." She shook her head sadly and turned to look at Harry. Her eyes were darting around the bedroom, and Harry, resigned, knew that he ought to expect an article in a little while on "The Room Where the Savior Sleeps." "What happened, Mr. Potter?"
Harry explained the situation, making sure to emphasize that Kingsley had attacked the bond without knowing what would happen to it, that he had summoned Harry out of hospital to deal with it—here he managed to look tragic and pathetic, and Skeeter smiled at him at in approval—that he had refused absolutely to try Huxley, and that Harry felt as if he would never be safe in Britain as long as Kingsley was Minister.
Skeeter kept uttering long sighs as she wrote things down. Harry noticed that she was using an ordinary quill and not the Quick-Quotes Quill, and relaxed a bit. Though he doubted that everything in this article would be as strictly truthful as it had been in the article about the bond, he doubted she would change much, either. The story itself was too gripping and too interesting for her to do that.
Finally, Skeeter approached Kingsley, who still sat in a chair with his arms tied behind him with the Petrificus. "Do you deny any of these accusations, Minister?" she asked helpfully.
"The situation is not as Mr. Potter has reported it," said Kingsley, glaring over Skeeter's head at Harry. "Someone who works for the Ministry should show a certain amount of obedience and consideration for the society outside himself. That, Mr. Potter has not shown. He has recklessly allowed his concern for two people to overshadow the larger picture."
Skeeter turned to Harry. "Is that true?"
Harry waited a moment to answer, supposedly so he could look at Kingsley in pity but really because his breath was getting short and he didn't want to reveal that. "Did I not tell you," he asked at last, in the voice of someone surprised by his own carelessness, "that he kicked me out of the Auror program? That was before he attacked the bond, but after he released Huxley, the woman who attempted to murder me, from Auror custody. Apparently I'm not fit to join the exalted ranks of people who do things like that."
Skeeter cackled, and her quill raced. Harry was sure that final quote was going down exactly as he'd said it. Then she turned to Kingsley again. "And what do you say, sir? Had you kicked Harry Potter, who would have become a brilliant Auror, out of the Auror training program?"
"That is true," Kingsley said. He'd recovered his poise again, and he smiled slightly at Skeeter. "But once again, there are complications to the situation that you do not know."
Harry held his breath, and then winced as he felt a sharp pull in his stomach. This was what he'd been worried about. If Skeeter was curious enough, or wanted to present a "balanced" story, then she might listen to Kingsley and be convinced despite everything that Harry had carefully tried to persuade her of.
"I don't see many complications that could excuse releasing an attempted murderer," Skeeter said, eyes hard, and turned away from Kingsley as if he had ceased to interest her. "Mr. Potter, is there anything you would like to add?"
Harry sighed and let his gaze fall to the floor as if he were simply overwhelmed. Severus would be proud of me, he thought. "Only," he whispered, "that it's hard. I did my best for wizarding society, and now to have them rejecting me…" He let his lip tremble, and looked up helplessly at Skeeter.
Skeeter patted his shoulder, her long nails clicking, her eyes absolutely wide with rapture. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of sympathy once this article is printed, Mr. Potter."
"Do you really think so?" Harry asked, glancing at Kingsley. He looked as if he wanted to do murder. You almost did, Harry thought. He had no remorse for any action against someone who had tried to hurt his bondmates.
"I do." Skeeter gave him a peculiar, almost gentle smile, and Harry wondered how many times she had the ability to look behind the façades she reported on. "After all, the public is anxious for ripe, fresh news involving their favorite hero. And they're looking for a way to choose sides. This gives them a very efficient one."
"Ms. Skeeter." Harry had to give it to Kingsley. Even trapped and looking as if he would be the center of a scandal soon, he retained his calm, courteous politician's demeanor. "If you would only try to learn a bit more—"
"But I don't want to," Skeeter said, looking perfectly delighted to say it, and waved her sheaf of parchment at Harry. "You can count on this being in the paper by the evening." She popped out of the house.
Harry turned to in silence. Kingsley's face was incredibly red. He breathed through his nose for a moment, and then said, "I have been inside your defenses. I know something about how they operate now."
"Do you never tire of saying stupid shite?" Harry brushed his hand through his hair, and sighed. Then he lowered his hand to his side, hoping Kingsley didn't notice the way it trembled. "We'll get new defenses. We'll raise them against you." He shook his head and studied the Minister for a moment, broodingly. "How did it come to open war between us?"
"It began when you had the temerity to bond two Death Eaters to you." Kingsley looked stubborn.
"And if I hadn't done it, Voldemort would have lived and the war wouldn't have ended," Harry said. He paused, then added wistfully, "I don't know what you want, Kingsley."
"Action out of you that makes sense," Kingsley said. "A promise to remain obedient to those who know more than you in all matters, including politics. For you to put aside your preoccupation with Snape and Malfoy, and to agree to the dissolving of the bond."
"I'm doing the things that make sense to me." Harry yawned. He hoped Kingsley would take it for a sign of boredom. He also braced his legs against the wall, but from the way Kingsley was staring raptly at his face, Harry hoped that could escape his observation. "I can't promise to be obedient when my successes depend on thinking for myself. And of course the bond is important to me. I saved them. They're under my protection. Don't you have anyone that you think of that way?"
Kingsley just looked stubborn again. Harry sighed and turned to limp from the room. He had done what he could. He would just have to release the Minister and his Aurors now and hope for the best.
He stumbled on the stairs, and caught himself with one hand against the wall. While he stood there, breathing, the scar across his stomach began to ache with terrible, regular pulses. Harry gritted his teeth and waited some more. He wasn't about to fall down these stairs and get a cracked head on top of everything else.
Why is this happening now? You'd think the Healers would have managed to cure me of a simple Gut Chewing Curse in the time I've spent in hospital.
"Harry?" There was a soft gasp near his ear suddenly, and Harry jumped. When had Draco come up the stairs, and why hadn't he heard him? "Severus!" Draco's arm curved around Harry's shoulders and hauled him to the side, supporting him with a strength that Harry found himself grateful for at the moment. "He's faltering!"
Faltering? I'm not! The word made Harry sound as if he was weak, and he thought he'd devoted most of the morning to proving that he wasn't. He drew himself up so that he could stand tall and strong and reassure Draco.
His stomach pulled and ached, and then Severus's voice said harshly to him, "Idiot boy. You have tried to do too much." Harry felt the press of a smooth wand against his temple, heard the murmur of a spell, and then a curse from Severus.
"Where would you be if I hadn't tried to do it, I'd like to know?" Harry forced his eyes open and glared up at him. "Without me, you couldn't have handled Kingsley as effectively, and then Skeeter wouldn't know, and—"
"What is the Minister next to you?" Severus said harshly, and then looked furious, either at himself for saying the words or Harry for making him say them, Harry didn't know. He moved his wand again, and this time Harry felt both an easing of the pain and a darkening in his mind.
He's sending me to sleep!
"No!" Harry fought to sit up. "Just do something that will ease the pain and make me better for a little while. Give me a potion or something. But I have to stay awake right now! My friends weren't in my room when the bond summoned me, but soon they'll figure out where I must be, and Kingsley will probably say something that—"
Severus's hand clamped on Harry's shoulder, and he glared into his eyes. "You are going to rest because you need to," he said. "If you do not take care of your physical health, we also suffer. Or is your memory so short?"
Harry opened his mouth, realized that he didn't have an argument to hand, and shut it again grumpily. Then Severus repeated the sleep spell, and Harry yawned and closed his eyes.
He was still grumpy, though. He had to take care of himself, but they could have put him to sleep later, after a few more things were settled. God knew what Severus and Draco would say to his friends when they arrived. If they—
And then he remembered that if he trusted his bondmates, he should trust them not to permanently alienate his friends, either.
He fell asleep while he was still thinking about that.
*
"You're glaring at him as if you hate him," Draco murmured into his ear.
"I hate the sensations he provokes," Severus snapped, without looking around. He could feel Harry's mind wavering and sinking, part of it still fighting the sleep spell. He wondered if part of the boy's resistance to the Imperius Curse was based on his instinctive tendency to battle anything that tried to take over his mind.
Will he ever open the bonds and feel our emotions, then?
Severus scowled. He had other things to concentrate on, and with a jerk of his mind, he managed it. "Unless you are going to tell yourself that you did not feel what he just inflicted on us?" he added, turning to Draco. "That sensation as if part of you was shutting down, its heart beating more and more slowly towards extinction?"
Draco shuddered and folded his arms. "I felt it, but I was more concerned with Harry," he muttered.
Severus studied him, but as far as he could tell, Draco was sincere and did not notice the contradiction in his words. He wondered if that would become a permanent part of the bond: Severus watching out for the physical safety of the others, acting as the stern taskmaster, and Draco mediating back and forth in concern for the both of them.
But that would mean that only one role is left open to Harry: to act as human sacrifice for our good.
Severus snarled silently. No, he would not allow that to happen. He intended to protect Harry as well, and to force him to rest if necessary. Harry would learn to care for himself and not simply fling his body between Severus and Draco and every curse that came along, or Severus would know why not.
"He was beginning to die," Severus said. "Some of the potions that ease the pain of the Gut Chewing Curse and ensure that it does not scar the victim are addictive, and he has now gone too long without them."
Draco looked stricken, and turned towards the front door as if he would run to St. Mungo's immediately. Severus shook his head. "By sending him to sleep, I have eased his need for the potions for now. And I have several of them on hand, as well as several that will substitute. We can save him."
Draco sighed all the breath out of himself and sat down on the couch where they'd placed Harry, reaching out a hand to stroke his hair. "I can't—it's so strange, Severus, but I don't feel as though I could lose him."
"Of course you could, if the shutdown of physical processes went far enough," Severus said briskly, turning towards the potions lab. "And the feeling in itself is not so strange, given that you would die if he dies."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
Severus paused and turned around again. He had learned not to argue when Draco took that tone: flat enough to ring like a trodden pavement, low and threatening. He met Draco's eyes and said quietly, "Yes, I know." He hesitated and took a quick glance at Harry, but his eyes were closed, and the bond between them buzzed with the swift flashes of emotion characteristic of dreams. He would not hear what Severus had to say next, and that was all to the good. "I feel much the same way."
Draco rose from the couch with a brilliant smile and came over to stand in front of him. Severus looked down at him with a slight blink, wondering what he wanted now. Sometimes, the lack of a bond that would permit him to read Draco's emotions was troublesome.
He did not expect the kiss that fastened on his mouth in the next moment, but he responded eagerly, grasping Draco's shoulders and pouring passion into the tangle of their tongues. Draco moaned and stepped shakily back, fingering his lips as if he were uncertain they still belonged to him. Severus watched him smugly.
"We have him," Draco whispered. "We have each other. And someday soon, perhaps we will have him in the same way we have each other."
Severus would normally have scorned such an enunciation of simple truths, but at the moment, they sounded like ones he could endorse. He put his arms around Draco's waist and held him possessively while they both looked towards the couch where Harry slept. Draco had a faint, gloating smile on his face that Severus was familiar with from days in Hogwarts when he had got away with a prank on another student. Severus did not know for certain what his own face looked like, but he suspected it was similar.
Yes, they had Harry now. And he was not trying to win himself free, which meant they had him even more firmly, though he might not have accepted or thought about all the implications of that possession as yet.
The moment passed when someone knocked at the door.
Severus turned. The wards had been damaged slightly from the attack on the bond by the Aurors, but they still held strong, which meant that only those who did not intend to harm them could approach the house. Since Skeeter had so recently departed, Severus could think of only one other group of people who did not mean them harm.
The Weasleys, or others of Harry's friends.
It is questionable whether they mean all of us good, he thought grimly, and caught Draco's eye, jerking his head at the couch. Draco nodded and went to sit beside Harry, drawing his wand. In case one of the impulsive Weasleys did something rash, he would be ready to shield Harry from it. He had already begun, in fact, by creating a bubble of silence that would let Harry sleep on no matter what someone else said in the room.
He nodded to Severus when he was ready. Severus went to open the door, his own wand held at his side.
*
The She-Weasel was the first through the door, of course, and she didn't even bother to glance at Severus as she went by. She headed straight for Harry, and recoiled with a loud cry when Draco's privacy bubble kept her away from him. She whipped around and glared at Draco. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Keeping him asleep," Draco said, his gaze fixed on her and his wand hand twitching with longing to rise. He heard other voices, and assumed that the Weasel and Granger, at least, had accompanied Harry's girlfriend. He would have to trust Severus to handle them.
Harry's girlfriend. The words left a foul taste even in his mind, like the slime trail of a slug.
But he would have to put up with it until Harry made the decision to leave the She-Weasel and come to them of his own free will. Draco knew—though he didn't know if Severus had accepted it yet—that any relationship they formed had no chance of lasting until that happened. Harry would never forgive them if they took advantage of the bond to force him away from his friends.
"Why would you want to do that?" Weasley's eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "Unless you've exhausted him making him defend you."
That was too close to the truth to make Draco rest entirely content. He rose to his feet, emphasizing the height he had on Weasley, and moved a step closer, lowering his voice to a hiss. He knew Harry couldn't hear them anyway, thanks to the bubble, but he wanted to show that he had some concern for the quiet Harry needed. "He started to collapse thanks to the Minister, who tried to destroy the bond. Harry's phoenixes summoned him from hospital to defend us. And after that there was other business to be handled with the Minister, which he insisted on doing himself. He nearly died a few days ago. Is it any wonder that he needs rest?"
Weasley stared at him in silence for a few minutes. Then she said in a low, passionate voice, "I hate this bond."
Draco blinked. Of course I should have expected her to hate it, but I didn't expect to be the one she confesses that hatred to. Does Harry know about this?
"It endangers his life," Weasley went on, and fell back a step to look at Harry, as if seeing his face from a different angle would somehow make a difference in the truth of her words. "It forces him to act unnaturally. It disrupts his training and gets him kicked out of the Auror program." She turned around and stared at Draco. "It must hamper you, too. Why don't you want to be free of it?"
Draco curled his lip. He didn't intend to discuss the more personal reasons that he and Severus wanted to keep the bond with her. "Because," he said sharply, "undoing the bond means that everything goes back to the way it was before Harry's accidental magic brought us together—"
"Good," Weasley said.
"Which would mean," Draco said, raising his voice slightly, "that the Dark Lord would still be alive and that scar would be back in place on your boyfriend's forehead. Do you really want that to happen?"
Weasley folded her arms around her as if she were cold, but kept her attention firmly on Draco. She seemed to have forgotten Harry was lying there, Draco thought. How could she?
"You say 'your boyfriend' as if the words hurt you," Weasley whispered. "Do you really resent my relationship with him that much?"
Draco paused. The one thing he had not anticipated was being understood in that way. He'd thought he'd concealed his resentment well enough.
But then he remembered that Weasley had caught him trying to kiss Harry, and reckoned that he should have anticipated this.
He didn't like the fact, though, and that made him snappish. "Of course I resent it," he muttered. "Why wouldn't I? He spends time with you just to please you, and then you're still not pleased. And you don't seem to care about his physical health." Weasley opened her mouth, looking outraged, but Draco pushed on. He wanted to say this, and she was going to let him say it, or else. "You don't care about anything except yourself, and the ending of the bond. Harry could have chosen anyone else. There are people who would understand that bonds come first, no matter what. Instead, he chose a carrot-haired shrew who whines at him about doing what she wants."
Weasley's cheeks were a brilliant and unattractive red. "I'm sorry that you've never had a normal human relationship," she whispered, her voice shaking, "and so you can't understand that people do what other people want them to because it makes them happy, too."
Draco lifted his wand until it was pointing at her mouth. "I love my parents," he whispered. "I've had normal human relationships. You take that back."
"Why should I?" Weasley looked down her nose at him, which should have been impossible, as short as she was. "You're not acting like it. You just want Harry to do whatever you think is best for him, like your little toy. You want him to want you. Well, you know what? He won't." Weasley's small and pig-like eyes were alight with vicious pleasure. "I asked him if he found men attractive. He said that I was the only one he was attracted to. He's straight. What do you think of that?"
Draco cast without thinking. It was nothing more than the Bat-Bogey Hex that Weasley had used so often herself, but Weasley shrieked as if she were dying, and her brother and Granger, who were standing near the door talking to Severus still, abruptly stampeded around him and into the middle of the room.
"What did he do to you?" The Weasel gave Draco a look of intense dislike as he caught his sister in his arms. Draco sneered at him. He'd thought him intelligent earlier that day. How did I ever make that mistake?
"The Bat-Bogey Hex," Granger said, and reversed the spell with a quick flourish of her wand. Then she turned and glared at Draco. Draco stared back and moved closer to Harry. They don't have the right to take him away from us. They don't.
"I heard what she said, and what you said," Granger told him in a quiet voice. "You ought to consider, not what she says or what we think of it, but what Harry's going to think of your actions." Then she turned and shepherded the Weasleys out of the room, while they shrilly complained.
Draco, trembling, lowered his wand. He couldn't look sideways at Severus, knowing that he would see disapproval there.
Severus stepped up beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and murmured into his ear, "Your intentions were honorable, your actions misguided. We must maintain peace with Harry's friends if he is ever to choose us of his own free will."
Draco swallowed. "I know." That had been the thing he thought he understood so much better than Severus. He turned and stared up at his lover. "But I got so angry. You heard what she said, and what she implied—"
"What she implied should not matter." Severus interrupted him with the same cold precision he had used when Draco made a simple mistake in Potions. "She is a young woman dealing with more of her own internal conflicts than you know. Those conflicts are likely to tear her apart from Harry without any extra effort on our part. But if we attack her, then Harry will cling to her all the more tightly because of some misguided notion of owed loyalty." He turned away before Draco could open his mouth to answer. "Now. Let us get Harry to bed, and then ensure that the Minister understands the situation fully before we release him."
Draco trailed disconsolately after Severus, watching the way Severus's hand smoothed gently through Harry's wild dark hair, and wondered why his feelings of being wise and powerful and kindly never seemed to last long.
*
Harry woke in a much nicer manner than he had at the hospital, where he had the consequences of potions to weigh him down. Of course, he must have taken potions here, too; Severus wouldn't have let him go long without stuffing him full of them. But his throat didn't hurt and his belly didn't hurt and he felt pleasantly warm rather than stupefied, so he lay still for a few minutes with his eyes closed.
Then the memory of Kingsley and Skeeter came back to him, along with the idea that his friends had almost certainly visited the house while he was asleep.
What happened? Harry felt a surge of the same fear he'd felt when he lay in the Hogwarts hospital wing after his first battle with Voldemort and wondered if Quirrell had died. He pushed himself up on his pillow with his elbows and looked frantically around.
"Hush, Harry," Draco's amused voice said from not far away. "I don't think that Severus will appreciate it much if you manage to undo his work." His hand landed on Harry's head, and his fingers trailed familiarly over the shell of his ear. "You're fine. Your friends have been here, seen that you were fine, and gone away. Severus and I released the Minister and the Aurors a short time ago." He hesitated, then added, "Severus tried to extract an Unbreakable Vow from Shacklebolt about leaving us alone in the future, but he refused to give it. So Severus cast a spell that will make sure that he'll at least think about us less and gain some courage for facing Huxley and others who try to influence him."
"There are spells like that?" Harry murmured. His immediate questions answered, he could lean into Draco's touch and—
No. No, you can't. You promised Ginny that you wouldn't encourage his caresses, no matter what the temptation.
"I could have used a spell like that," he continued, leaning back from Draco's touch so that he was sitting upright with the help of the pillows. "When I was hunting Voldemort and the Horcruxes, I mean. There were times I thought I wouldn't be able to go on."
Draco sighed, as if he had noticed Harry's movement and resented it, then settled on the bed in front of him. "There's something else I need to tell you," he muttered. "Something I did while you were unconscious that you probably won't like."
"Oh?" Harry kept his voice as neutral as possible while he turned to face Draco. Draco was staring at his hands, which twined restlessly together. "Don't tell me. You hexed Ginny."
Draco gave a quick jerk of his shoulders, as though Harry had struck him, then bowed his head and sat still. Even his hands had stopped twisting.
"You did?" Harry hissed under his breath and leaned further away, staring hard at Draco. The phoenixes on his arms weren't burning, but they should have been, to represent how angry he was. Draco flinched again, though, and Harry remembered that he could feel Harry's emotions through the bond. He took a steadying breath. He still didn't want to hurt his bondmates, no matter how upset he was. "Why?" The one word was all he could trust his voice to utter rationally right now.
"We got in a row," Draco said to his fingernails. "We both implied stupid things. She said I didn't know how to love, and I said that she didn't really care about you, just about herself."
Harry closed his eyes and sat there for a moment. His mind was a mixture of conflicting emotions. He felt sorry for Ginny, he felt sorry for Draco, and he wondered how this would make his life harder when dealing with both of them. Because of course Ginny and Draco would feel that the other person was at fault, and if Harry sided too much with one, then he would irritate the other. But he couldn't sit in the middle and be neutral; that would demand too much of him in a different way.
"I'm sorry."
Draco said the words so softly that Harry knew he could ignore them if he wanted. But he looked up instead, and though Draco flushed when Harry met his eyes, he didn't look as if he were about to back down.
"Sorry for what?" Harry asked carefully, because there were things Draco could apologize for that didn't necessarily involve the row with Ginny.
Draco sat there scowling at the wall, as if he expected it to produce his apology for him. But in the end, he shook his head slightly, turned back to Harry, and said, "Sorry for antagonizing her. I knew she was worried. But I was worried, too, and I got irritated when she tried to reach you instead of letting you sleep. Besides, the only hex I used on her was that Bat-Bogey Hex she was so fond of using on other people."
Harry almost smiled despite himself at the way self-serving justifications and truth mingled in Draco's words. He reached out, found his hand, and squeezed it. "You still shouldn't have done it."
Draco tossed his head up, his patience apparently exhausted, a brilliant flush streaking his cheeks. "Because she's your girlfriend." There was enough bitterness behind that word to make Harry flinch. He had thought that Draco had a slightly self-mocking crush on him. This sounded like something deeper and worse. "I know. I know that you want her, and that you're in love with her, and—"
"All that's true," Harry said quietly, cutting Draco off. He wasn't sure about being in love with Ginny, truth be told, but this was one truth that didn't need to be told to Draco or Severus, any more than Harry was about to ask how much they loved each other. "But mostly, I'm thinking that your hexing someone could make the newspapers, and in a way that we don't want. Skeeter seems interested in reporting on the Minister's misdeeds for now, but she could turn on us as quickly."
Draco bit his lip, and his cheeks flared out as if he were sucking in some air and holding it in his mouth. Harry sat still, staring at him. He wouldn't be master to a pair of slaves, but he was going to set some boundaries for his bondmates in interacting with his friends.
Finally, Draco ducked his head and muttered something ungracious about how he reckoned Harry was right. Then he stood up and left the room abruptly, shutting the door behind him with a sharp squeak.
Harry sighed and lay back on the bed, tracing one finger along the edge of the pillow. No, nothing he could do would make everyone completely happy.
But does that matter? he suddenly wondered, thinking of the compromise he had offered Kingsley and how Kingsley had refused it. Harry had decided that he didn't care what Kingsley wanted, he wouldn't do it. Maybe it's the same principle. If I can't give Draco and Ginny and Severus and Ron and Hermione and the whole of the wizarding world everything they want, that doesn't mean I can't still be a good friend or a good bondmate.
That made him feel a little better, and he was just starting to smile when the door opened and Severus stalked in. Harry took in the frown on his face and pushed at the pillow so that he could sit up better. Severus was probably here to scold Harry for upsetting Draco, just as Harry had scolded Draco for upsetting Ginny.
Merlin, this is so complicated, Harry thought wearily before he turned to face what he was sure would be a storm of sarcasm.
*
Severus paused when he felt the bond tighten and thrum, stone seeming to close in on the narrow current of emotions flowing through it. Harry had been darting freely between feelings until then, like a butterfly visiting many different flowers, and it was only the sight of Severus that had changed things.
If Draco has not apologized as I instructed him to, I will flay him.
Severus slowly shut the door behind him and crossed over to sit on the chair Draco had been keeping watch on for the past few hours. He would begin with neutral information, then. For all that he did not think Harry could have guessed the subject he wanted to talk about, talking about it while Harry was in this mood would probably not work well.
"I have strengthened the wards around the house," he said. "They are linked to our blood and bone. Someone could fool them with Polyjuice, but no other way. I think it best we agree on a system of code words that only we know, to further fool the Polyjuice."
Harry nodded. The bond opened slightly. "I thought of that, too." He looked briefly embarrassed. "I should have suggested it the moment Pepperfield attacked Draco. Even if Kingsley hadn't turned against me, that was a sign that the public wasn't willing to accept the pardons."
"We survived," said Severus. "From this moment on, we shall have to shelter under wards, but that was no different from the lives that we lived in Hogwarts. Or in the summer, for that matter," he added, thinking of the powerful defenses that guarded Malfoy Manor and his own house at Spinner's End. "There is another solution that I thought I would propose to you. We may leave England."
Harry's face immediately took on the mulish look that Severus remembered so well from the days when James was alive, a moment before the bond clashed with a shock like cliffs reverberating. "No," he said. "I won't let them chase us away from our home. All of us have as great a right to live here as they do. Besides, there's no guarantee that the really determined ones wouldn't come after us in Australia, or France, or anywhere else. And the Weasleys and other people I cared about wouldn't leave Britain."
Severus inclined his head. He had thought that would be the answer, but he would not have rested easy if he had not made the suggestion. "What has Draco done to irritate you?"
Harry looked startled for the merest second, then grimaced ruefully. "I forgot you could feel that."
You will need to remember, Severus thought. He wondered if the reason Harry had managed to accept the bond so well was that he was ignoring parts of it. He had accepted that Severus and Draco would need his emotions, but he had not thought about the level of knowledge of Harry himself that granted them.
"He admitted the truth about the row with Ginny," Harry said. "And he did apologize. But I told him that I didn't like him hexing her, and he didn't take it too well."
"You did the right thing," Severus said, and understood a little more as Harry stared at him like a butterfly being pinned. Yes, he feared that I would scold him in turn. "Draco is occasionally less mature than he has the capacity to be. If that is not pointed out, then he will simply sink back into childishness."
Harry regarded him with caution that made the bond feel edged around with razor blades. "I thought you would be angry at me for scolding him," he said. "Shouldn't that be your role?"
"We will trade roles," Severus said, "or this bond is only an iron harness, enforcing shallow versions of ourselves upon us. You may tell Draco if he is doing something that is wrong by your lights."
Harry spent a few more moments staring at Severus, then nodded. "Thanks for telling me that," he said.
Severus leaned forwards. It was as good an opening as he would ever have for speaking of the subject he had come to question Harry on. "At the moment, my role is as your healer," he said. "I have administered all the potions I think wise. There is something else that I would diagnose."
Harry looked down at his belly. "Did I manage to tear something else open? That would be just like me."
Severus followed his gaze, and saw, as Harry's robes shifted, a trail of dark hair disappearing towards his groin. At that moment, he was glad that Harry had not opened the bond the other way, and so he was ignorant of the reason Severus's eyes turned aside and his voice roughened. "No. But I am thinking of the way that you healed Draco and me before you attempted to do anything about your pain when the Gut Chewing Curse hit you."
"Of course I did," Harry said, sounding baffled. "The pain knocked you down. You didn't have time or the strength to do anything. I did."
Severus refrained from rolling his eyes by reciting the ingredients of the Draught of Peace in his head. It is no wonder that he has managed to rationalize and ignore his own self-destructive impulses for so long.
"You almost seemed not to notice that you were hurt," he pursued. "The pain surprised you. You have also ignored the pain when it began to trouble you during your healing. Do you realize how close you came to death?"
"Yes, yes, I almost died," Harry said in an overly patient voice, while the bond contracted like a muscle. "But I've done that a lot. Really, you have no need to be so worried. If anything, I should be the one who's worried about you."
Severus put his hands on Harry's shoulders and stared into his face. "I told you that the bond permits us to switch and share roles. In this case, Draco and I are your protectors as well. It concerns me that you will play down your own pain."
Harry pulled away from him, his nostrils and eyes both wide. "I don't—you don't need to worry about me. I won't forget my own pain so much that you'll die. That's all that you should be concerned about."
"Ah," Severus said in a deep, soft voice. "Is it? I think not. We may also be concerned about you as a person." He laid the back of his hand against Harry's cheek and watched the result. His movement was calculated, unlike the way Draco had leaned forwards and tried to steal a kiss too soon.
Harry swallowed. Severus waited patiently until he saw the spark of awareness grow in those green eyes, then withdrew his hand.
"Being bonded to anyone else would be the same," Harry said, in a queer, choked voice. "Except someone else probably would have accepted reality sooner and not almost killed you."
"We want to be bonded to you," Severus said patiently. "And we will remain by your side for the rest of our mutual, united lives. If you do not yet feel ready to face the consequences of ignoring your own pain, then we will help you to do so, at some later date. But you should know that we will not be parasites, simply drawing your emotions from you and offering nothing in return. You have us as well as our having you, Harry."
He turned and left while Harry still gaped. Once he was in the corridor, he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. His muscles shook with fine tremors. A cold sweat covered his forehead and dripped into his eyes.
He had not realized the baring of his emotions would be so difficult.
But the ordeal was over for the moment, and he could go to conciliate Draco.
*
"Ginny!" Harry didn't have to feign the gladness in his voice. He'd been hoping to see her before this, though he knew she might not want to return to a house where she'd been insulted and hexed. He held out his hand.
Ginny walked across the bedroom to clasp it, but her smile was strained, and she looked as though she'd been trying to prepare herself for jumping over a cliff. She dropped his hand and said in a clear voice that shook only a little, "Harry, I can't do this any more."
Harry swallowed. "What?" he asked faintly, but he thought he knew.
"I can't share you with them any more," Ginny whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm probably a bad girlfriend. But I need someone who puts me first, Harry. I have—I still have nightmares from the war, you know?"
"I didn't know," Harry said helplessly. He felt as though a pillar supporting his world had just been knocked away, and then someone had pointed out that he'd been the one responsible for weakening the pillar in the first place.
Ginny gave him a single bitter look. "No, why would you? You never asked."
Harry said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Ginny began to pace back and forth, her head bowed and her fingers digging into her arms.
"I tried to get used to it," she said. "And I couldn't, because I keep looking at Snape and seeing the Headmaster I hated last year. I keep looking at Malfoy and seeing the boy who taunted my whole family and hates us for existing. I keep waiting for you to ask me about my experiences during the war. I know that's not fair. I know I should have told you. But I didn't want to. I wanted someone who cared enough to ask." She turned around and stared at Harry with wide eyes in which shadows moved like reflections in a dim mirror. "I'm not—strong enough to be the person you need, Harry, and you're not strong enough to be the person I need. Or maybe I need to heal by myself for a while before I try to be with anyone. But the point is that it's not going to work between us. I feel sick when I think of you living with Malfoy and Snape, never mind touching them."
Harry opened his mouth to deny that last part, and then remembered the way he'd crouched in the front garden with Draco and Severus, his arms around their shoulders. Not to mention that he'd realized, from Draco's near-kiss and Severus's touch yesterday, that both of them wanted him.
He still had no idea why they wanted him, but the fact remained. And he couldn't promise himself that he would always resist temptation, when the bond already made them closer to him than he ever could be to Ginny.
He realized Ginny had stopped speaking and stood facing him, her fingers making red streaks on her skin with how hard they were pressing down, her eyes terrified. She was waiting for him to say something.
Harry closed his eyes and made a difficult decision. He still wanted Ginny, but he couldn't say he loved her—not the way she deserved to be loved. And just because Draco and Severus wanted him didn't mean that their interest would last or that he would ever want them back.
But there were things more important than whether he had someone in his bed.
"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."
Ginny stepped towards him, her face still pale, and clasped his hands for a moment. "Thank you," she said. "I know that was hard, but it's really the best thing for both of us." She kissed his cheek, and then turned and ran from the room as if she feared what would happen if she lingered.
Harry lay back with his hands over his face for a moment. Then he turned so that he could bury his head in the pillow.
A tentative knock on the door made him grab his wand hastily and weave a ward on the threshold so that no one could come in. He didn't want comfort right now. There were things he had to handle himself, the way he should have handled the burden of the bond instead of trying to make Ginny bear it.
"Harry?" Draco tried the handle. "Let us in. You're feeling bad."
"Yes," Harry said, his voice muffled by the pillow, "but I want to be alone."
Silence. Draco had evidently respected his wishes and gone away.
Harry buried his face further and wished that he knew what to wish for. Not for Ginny back, when that would be bad for her and probably result in a far more bitter breakup someday. Not for the bond never to have happened, since in different ways he valued Draco and Severus and was glad that they were in his life.
But for—something.
For the pain to end and something in my life to go right would be a good start.