Disclaimer | I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the HP verse. This story was created simply for my own amusement and no monetary gain is being made from it's creation. All licensing for Happy Potter belong to JK. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else has a hand in creating the series we know and love.

Author's Note | Hey guys. It's been a while. I know I keep apologizing for it, but I'm sorry. I started this story when I was in my first year of University ... which was literally 12 years ago now ... Merlin, I'm old. Needless to say, since then my life got busy with adulting and what not, and I am a much different person than I was when I started this story. That being said, I just spent the last couple days reading the first thirteen chapters and I REALLY like this storyline. It is MUCH more interesting than I remembered it to be and I'd like to continue with it. I will be going back over the previous chapters and cleaning it up. This will only be spelling errors and such. No major changes will be made so (unless you want to) you won't have to go back and read it over. If there are any discrepancies that need to be fixed, I will let you know in the next update, but as I've said they will be minor. Thanks so much for sticking with it, guys!

Chapter Fourteen

When Past Meets Present

Three days.

The time had passed without him even noticing, which was ridiculous as he was the one who had insisted on the wolves presence in the Manor. How he'd forgotten was beyond him, particularly since Lothair had taken it upon himself to voice his displeasure at any and all opportunity presented to him. The similarities between Lothair's complaining about the wolves and Draco's previous complaining about Mudbloods was frightening. Not that he'd bothered to share that thought with those in question. The last thing he needed was the two of them joining forces against him. It was trouble enough just dealing with their respective moods.

His thoughts shifted to the blond walking beside him, a slight frown marring his features. The blond had been acting weird all morning and Harry wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. He still had no idea why Draco had bothered to seek him out. He didn't believe it was because he was the closest or even that Draco felt that Harry owed him. Well, if he was honest, the blond probably did think that. That, at least, was in line with his personality. The fact that he'd sought him out, despite his voiced displeasure at having done so was not. In fact, it was the complete opposite. If Draco hadn't wanted to be within 100 feet of him, Harry was positive the blond would have moved heaven and earth to see that it happened. The manor was full of staff that would have relented under that self-righteous attitude of his and shown him whatever he'd wanted to see. Even in the Elven Realm gossip spread faster than anything. Harry wasn't going to believe that they didn't already know who or what Draco was.

Then there was that interaction with Gwynn in the kitchen. Harry could explain that even less than he could explain Draco actually seeking him out. Whenever the two of them happened to be in the same room things tended to end poorly, especially for him. Hell, the last time they'd been in the same room, Draco and beat him into a bloody puddle.

If he didn't know better, Harry would have thought he was jealous.

He did know better, however, because the thought was ridiculous. Malfoy had not shown any signs that he appreciated the current bond between them. He'd all but rejected it and Harry couldn't really blame him, even if it did weigh heavily on him. It was like a weight had settled on his chest and if he thought too hard on it, it started to crush the breath from him. He'd been given various explanations to what this bond was or what it could be, but Harry hadn't bothered trying to figure it out. He didn't want to figure it out. Figuring it out meant facing the fact that Draco hadn't and likely wouldn't accept it. It was easier to leave it unnamed.

It wasn't until he felt eyes on him did he realize that he'd been idly rubbing the spot on his chest where the ache was gradually growing. Glancing up, he offered only a shrug to Draco's suspicious look and walked past him. Now wasn't the time to think on it. They had other more pressing matters to deal with and when Draco didn't stop him, Harry pushed his thoughts and the ache aside and continued on.

Reaching the same conference room they had used before, Harry pulled the doors open and the three of them filed in. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized, taking his seat beside Soren and leaving the other two to find their own. His eyes didn't stray to Draco, instead focusing on the unfamiliar face at the table. He was young. Or he, at least, appeared young. Younger than both Hendrik or Theodore.

The wolves across from him nodded their acceptance at his apology and Hendrik took it upon himself to begin the introductions. "This is Gabriel. He'll be acting as our liaison within the Manor," he started, his tone as gruff as Harry had remembered it as he indicated the man beside him. Gabriel, for his part, only nodded his greeting. "Before this is settled, however, I still have some questions."

"That's a shock," Harry responded, his own tone dry, earning a raised eyebrow from Soren that he chose to ignore. Perhaps it was still some lingering anger over the attack on Draco, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to like the man sitting across from him. He could respect the man's authority among the pack, given the loyalty his fellow wolves showed him, but that was as generous as Harry wanted to be. "Ask."

"He is not to be held prisoner," Hendrik demanded, sizing Harry up as though he was expecting a fight, which Harry supposed he probably was. He was probably used to having to fight in order to secure his demands. Didn't mean that it didn't irritate Harry, regardless.

"Did I ever say he was to be a prisoner?" He asked, adopting a bored and somewhat arrogant tone he'd heard one too many times from a certain blond sitting at the table. While the others might not have known where it had come from, the stiffening of Draco's spine told Harry that he hadn't missed the similarities. Harry didn't dare to glance his way and see if said blond had taken offence to it. The safest place for his eyes to be was anywhere Draco wasn't. "I offered the protection of the realm in exchange for his assistance. Doesn't seem like shackles, does it?"

"All the pretty words in the world don't add up to much unless you live up to them," was Hendrik's response, earning a low hiss from further down the table. Lothair, Harry guessed. He didn't dare take his eyes off the Wolf across from him. The stare was as much of a challenge as the words were.

"I guess, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

Silence fell heavily around them, the tension thick in the air around them for several long moments, before Gabriel finally shifted in his seat. "I'm glad to help," he offered, nodding his head first to Harry and then to who he assumed was Draco. Harry, for his part, was still holding Hendrik's glare. "Your mate will be in good hands, I swear."

Harry nearly choked at the word "mate" and his gaze snapped from Hendrik to Gabriel to Draco, whose jaw had tightened to the point Harry thought it might shatter. What he wouldn't give to have the floor open up and swallow him whole. "He's not-" Harry stuttered, making a waving motion with his hand that really didn't have any distinctive meaning. "Draco. Just call him Draco. Or Malfoy. Or whatever he wants." Snapping his mouth shut, he jerked his eyes away from the obvious disaster and focused on the table in front of him.

Across the table, Hendrik shared a look with his second. Neither one of them knew what to make of the sudden turn of events or the rapid personality shift. "Right," he muttered, shooting Soren a look that wished him the best of luck with the lunatic they'd all decided to crown. Soren for his part, returned the look with a calm smile. Unlike Lothair, he kept his amusement hidden.

Harry shifted in his seat again. "You're permitted to leave the grounds to return to the pack as per your obligations to your family but speak with Draco and the guards prior to leaving. Your main priority is to ensure his ability to adapt to any of the traits he'll develop due to the lycanthropy. You'll also be given your own rooms in the manor. Use them or don't. It's your choice."

Harry dared a glance to Gabriel to see his nod of acceptance. "Right, well, anything further questions can be directed to Soren." Frankly, he was pretty sure the Elf beside him was more qualified to deal with the entire thing. Pushing back the chair, he stood. "Excuse me." Before anyone could say anything else, he moved to the door and disappeared out of it, leaving the rest of them to stare at the spot he'd just vacated.

All eyes in the room seemed to shift as one to land of the blond sitting at the end of the table, silver eyes flashing for a moment before settling into bored acceptance. "He's an idiot. You'll get used to it."

"That went well."

Harry didn't have to lift the arm from his face to know who was standing at the foot of the couch. After the embarrassing scene in the conference room, he'd bolted back to his own suite and was currently sprawled out on the sofa with a rather prominent air of disgrace. He figured someone would show up sooner or later. "Go away."

"I think my favourite part was you stuttering over what to call Draco."

"Shut up."

"No, no, it was definitely Draco calling you an idiot."

Harry peeked out from beneath his arm, his eyes narrowed. "He called me an idiot?"

"Yes,"

He huffed and slumped his arm back over his eyes. "He's an idiot."

Ilaria laughed and leaned over to smack his feet off the sofa. Taking their place, she propped her own feet up on the coffee table ahead of them. "I suppose, as far as negotiations go, it wasn't the worst one I've ever seen," she offered, taking perhaps a bit of pity on him.

"Shut up."

She laughed again. It had been a long while since she'd had to deal with a moody teenager. Sure, there were young recruits in the army but Ilaria rarely dealt with them. Those in her personal guard were seasoned warriors and not quite so prone to melodramatics. She supposed if she and Caedmon sired children in the future, she'd have something to reference. The thought amused her more than it probably should and she debated sharing it with the young man beside her. Given his rather pathetic state, however, she decided against it.

"Alright. Enough sulking," she said, giving him a shove and standing up. "You're coming with me."

"No."

"That wasn't a request."

Groaning, Harry dropped his arm from his face and sat up. He knew better than to argue. It'd just give him a headache and Ilaria would still get her way. "Where are we going?"

"The swordsmith," she grinned, turning on her heel and heading for the door as thought that was all the answer he really needed.

"The swordsmith?" he asked, moving to follow after her, his curiosity peaked. "Why do we need to go to the swordsmith."

"To get a sword, obviously."

Glowering at her lack of answer, he snapped. "Why do we need a sword. Isn't there a million of them in the armoury?"

"Of course, but those are for those who haven't shown a preference for a weapon or in the case of a war and a need for quick armament. Since you're the most terrible shot I've ever witnessed, it would be a waste of money to have a bow made for you."

Harry flushed. He'd have liked to argue, but what she'd said wasn't entirely wrong. He was pretty bad when it came to using a bow. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the distance and adjusting for the wind. He still heard Gwynn's cackling whenever he even glanced at a bow, nor could he forget the stinging snap of the bow's release when he hadn't been holding it properly. If he never had to hold another bow in his life, he'd be happy.

"You still have a long way to go when it comes to your swordsmanship, but there's no point in having you learn with a sword that you won't be using," she explained, following a path through the manor that she had clearly walked a thousand times before. After a moment, he realized that they weren't heading to the training grounds and he swordsmith that worked with the royal guard. Seeing the question in his gaze, Ilaria snorted. "If you want a real sword, you go to the master."

Internally, Draco was still fuming over that ridiculous mess in the conference room. What the bloody hell had that been? There were so many things to be annoyed with that he couldn't quite decide where to start. Instead, he'd just focused on Potter. He hadn't needed the idiot to speak for him and he certainly didn't need him to defend him or try to explain his presence away. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could call that freak out an explanation. Then, to top it off, he'd just bolted and left Draco to deal with the fallout as though he couldn't stand to be in the same room.

Idiot. Bloody useless, spazzy idiot.

"Have you noticed any changes in personality or senses since you were healed?"

Draco blinked through the haze of irritation that he'd allowed to settle over him and glanced toward the wolf now currently walking through the halls of the Manor with him, a bright spot next to Draco's storm of irritation. Right. He was supposed to be showing their newest resident around, which was comical since he'd been having Potter do the same for him no less than an hour before. "I beat the bloody hell out of Potter the other day, though I can't tell if that's something new or something I just finally allowed myself to do," he commented dryly, which earned a laugh from the man beside him.

"He seems like he'd be fun to have around."

The comment earned a sharp look from Draco that had Gabriel holding up his hands. "Already mated," he chuckled, "I was just saying. He has a lot of free energy. That's a rare thing in these parts."

Draco glared a moment longer. Free energy was one way of putting it. Idiocy was another. "If you say so," was the only comment he made. Taking a moment, he studied the man beside him. He didn't feel any sort of strength coming from him. In fact, he felt almost ordinary. "You're an omega, aren't you?" he asked, suspiciously. He supposed it made sense. It wasn't like they were on friendly terms with the wolves, so why would they send anyone else.

Gabriel winced, offering up a sheepish smile. "That obvious, huh?"

Draco only shrugged. He supposed it didn't really matter so long as he knew what the hell he was talking about, which shouldn't be hard since he was a wolf himself. The least of Draco's concerns was pack hierarchy. "Don't tell Potter, he'll probably take some sort of weird offence to it and force your Alpha to bite his head off out of sheer irritation."

Another laugh. "We definitely don't want that."

Marking their current location, Draco guided them into a second corridor that led back to the wing he was currently residing in. Given the fact that Gabriel would be working mostly with him, the older Elf had suggested he find a suite in the same general vicinity. Draco, naturally, had taken the largest in the wing, but there were four other smaller suites that he felt would be suitable. The rest could be taken care of by the staff, if it hadn't already.

Reaching the appropriate corridor, Draco indicated the doors further down. "There's several suites further down the hall," he instructed, not really caring about which one the wolf would choose. He had enough things to worry about without adding the man's living arrangements to them. "None of them are occupied, so take whichever one you want. If you need anything specific, just ask a staff member. They'll get it for you."

Gabriel nodded at his instructions, his bouncing between the doors in his line of sight. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Draco and smiled brightly, catching the blond off guard. "When I first met my mate, she kicked my ass too," was all he said before he sauntered off down the hallway, leaving Draco to stare after him. The comment his to make of it what he would.

More than once did Ilaria have to snap at him, once they had entered the city. He hadn't yet left the castle and the sights that greeted him on the bustling streets were something he'd never have imagined. It reminded him vaguely of the first time he'd been to Diagon Alley. Back then, he'd been amazed by the magic. Signs of it had been everywhere from floating packages to moving bricks. This, however, was something else entirely. Everything was so open and lively that Harry was constantly stopping to stare. There were houses that seemed to have sprung up from the Earth itself, shops of all sorts, scents wafting from windows that he'd never smelled before, and no one seemed to be in a hurry. Everywhere they went, elves were going about their business, chatting with each other, nodding in respect to Ilaria as she passed, and even a few sent him a wave as he trailed after her. They likely thought he was another would be warrior under her care, but Harry couldn't be bothered to correct them. He'd be whatever they thought he was. He was too busy taking in everything around him to care much about titles.

After the fifth time of having to turn around and fetch him from whatever had captured his attention, Ilaria grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed him along ahead of her. "By the mother, you're worse than an infant," she grumbled, earning amused chuckles from those within hearing distance.

Harry flushed slightly, but didn't comment. Instead, he made a mental note to have Gwynn take him back into the city later. In the meantime, however, he let Ilaria manhandle him through the streets, navigating them with ease. It was clear that she was as comfortable in the city as she was in the Manor, which left him very little to be concerned about.

Another few moments of being led through the streets found the two of them standing outside a small shop, the only sign that it might be a swordsmith was the wrought iron sign hanging above the doorway that depicted to swords crossed over a shield. Harry raised an eyebrow at that and turned to look skeptically at Ilaria. "Not very original."

"I'm telling him you said that." She commented, opening the door and leaving Harry along in the street to gap after her before quickly following her inside.

"Well look what new horror the Mother has graced me with this time."

"I wouldn't be worried about me," Ilaria grinned, moving further into the room, "He's the one who said you were unoriginal."

"Is that so?"

Harry flushed, finding himself under the dark eyes of the elf behind the counter. "Uh...that's not entirely true."

"Now he's calling you a liar." The man responded, his face still serious even as his eyes returned to Ilaria. "I've always questioned the company you keep."

"I keep company with you, don't I?"

"Damn right, you do."

With that the serious look shifted to amusement and for a moment Harry felt himself relax. It didn't last long, however, as the man straightened from where he'd been leaning casually against the counter. He had to be well over six feet and three times as broad as Harry. The definition of his arms told Harry all he needed to about whether or not he could use the weapons he created. Aside from his size, Harry noted the long dark hair pulled back into long braid, a common fashion, but he could have sworn it was blue. A deep, deep blue.

"It's been a while."

Ilaria nodded, the conversation continuing around him with an easy flow. "You'd see me more often if you'd just pack up and move to the south with me."

"I could, but then I'd see you more often."

Ilaria laughed, the sound freer than he'd yet heard it. It was clear that the two had known each other for a long time. Their banter was easy in a way that came from years of practice.

"So who's this?"

At the question, Harry stiffened again, glancing to Ilaria to see how she was going to introduce him. Was he supposed to be introducing himself to the general public. How much did they currently know about what was going on? Those questions, however, were rendered irrelevant as Ilaria only shrugged and responded with "A sheepish Prince in need of a real weapon," earning herself a glare.

"Prince, huh?" the man asked, eyeing Harry as though sizing him up. His eyes didn't give anything away, so if he found himself disappointed, Harry couldn't tell. Instead, the man moved to him and offered a his hand. "I'm Daemeon. Well met."

"Harry," he returned, reaching forward to grip the man's forearm as his was gripped in return, his eyes lingering on the winding lines of tattoos that spiralled up the man's forearm from his wrist and the scars that dotted his skin. The latter had Harry wondering if they were earned in battle or courtesy of his work, but he didn't ask.

"So," Ilaria pressed, raising an eyebrow, "What do you think?"

Harry frowned, glancing to her only to realize that she had been talking to Daemeon and not him.

"I'm thinking something light and fast," he commented, shooting Harry a wink before releasing his arm and moving back to his earlier casual position against the counter. He's small, but he's got a firm grip. "Maybe a Kodachi or Gladius type form. Easy to swing."

Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not he should be insulted, but Ilaria was nodding her head in agreement. "I was thinking the same. He'd never be able to wield anything heavier for a long."

Daemeon nodded in agreement, flicking considering eyes to Harry. After a moment, he pushed away the counter and moved to one of the display cases. After a moment, he returned with a sword in hand. Just by looking at it, Harry could tell it was well crafted. The metal gleamed even in the low light and he didn't need to touch it to know the blade was sharp enough to split hairs. When Daemeon held it out to him, Harry glanced briefly to Ilaria before taking the weapon in hand. It was different than the shortsword they had been using in training. It was a bit longer and somehow lighter. Despite the fact that he had never held the likes of it before, it felt strangely comfortable in his hand.

As Harry studied the sword in his hand, Daemeon moved around Harry with watchful eyes as the younger Elf got a feel for the weapon. His eyes followed the sweeping motions as Harry tested it.

"Gladius then," he nodded, offering a hand to take the sword back from Harry. "30 inches should do it." The one he'd given the boy had been 33, which had shifted his center of balance enough to be a problem. Turning his attention back to Ilaria, he asked, "Any specifications?"

"Compatible with magic and fit for a Prince," she responded, waggling her eyes at him.

"Gaudy, you mean?"

"Beautiful."

"Uh huh," Daemeon chuckled. "When do you need it?"

Ilaria shrugged. "Take what time you need, just don't take forever."

"The usual account?"

Ilaria nodded, before hopping off the display case she'd so casually perched herself atop of. "I look forward to the earful I'll get when Caedmon learns I've bought another sword," she smiled, as she ushered Harry back to the door.

"Man's a saint to deal with your obsession."

"He loves it."

The only sound that greeted them as they left the shop was the snort of amusement serving as Daemeon's response.

"You're buying me a sword? Isn't there funds for that sort of thing?"

Ilaria shrugged, unconcerned with Harry's slight embarrassment. "Consider it a very practical coronation gift."

Harry didn't want to think about his coronation. They'd said he'd be coronated by the end of the summer, but Harry didn't feel any closer to being ready for it. In fact, he didn't think he was ready at all and he had to wonder whether or not it was the wisest of decisions. Still, he murmured a thanks you to Ilaria, who nodded her acknowledgement.

It was another four days before Hendrik and his second returned to the castle. A visit that had not been expected, least of all by Harry. The last time they had spoken, the Alpha had made it quite clear that he had little to no intention of ever returning, which had suited Harry just fine. He should have known things weren't going to go so smoothly.

"They're barking at our borders," Hendrik snapped, his attention focused on Soren as he waved his hand in Harry's direction, "Demanding we bring the boy."

"Who is making these demands?" Soren asked, calmly.

Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's. He had a feeling he knew who they Alpha was referring to and by the look in Draco's eye he knew as well.

"Some bloody Order of Wizards."

"Dumbledore."

All the eyes in the room that hadn't already been trained on Harry shifted now to him. He supposed he wasn't surprised by he summons. He'd disappeared from his Aunts and hadn't been in contact with anyone outside of the Kingdom since arriving here. Why he hadn't responded or reached out to them, he didn't know. He'd just been so busy trying to fill this new role and then the whole thing with Draco had taken place. Doing a quick scan of the days he'd spent there, he nearly groaned when he realized.

"Hogwarts," he muttered. Classes had started a week ago. No wonder the Order was banging down his door. Glancing back up, he found Draco looking less than surprised by the news, which sent a flash of irritation through him. "You could have said something," he accused, shooting him a glare.

"Why?" Draco asked, looking just as bored with he news as he felt. "It's not like we're expected to continue our Wizarding education."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?"

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at Harry's continued glowering, but when an argument didn't come, he returned the look with a smug smirk.

"We can't ignore his presence at the border," Soren commented, interrupting any bout of bickering that was about to take place. "I, personally, would like to know how they came to know where the border to these lands lay."

"They can't get through the wards," Draco commented, offering the older elf a shrug. "What's the problem if they know."

"You got through the wards." Lothair commented, dryly.

There was silence at that. It had been centuries since humans had been permitted in the realm and while Harry had a particular investment in the human population of Britain, he couldn't really fault them for their caution. The moment they order had found out about the Elves and Harry's connection to them, he knew there would have been a push to involve them in this fight with Voldemort. Any advantage was worth the risk. It was bad enough that Harry was already involving them, but to have them enter the realm without permission was going to fracture what little stability he had in this world.

"I'll go."

The almost instant chorus of disapproval and downright refusal on both Draco and Lothair's parts had Harry rolling his eyes. "I'm not a helpless child!" he snapped, "Don't think for a second they're going to back off if I'm not there. It'll only look suspicious and they'll only press all the more."

Ilaria frowned, but nodded her agreement. "He's not wrong."

"Then I'm going, as well," Draco commented, crossing his arms and daring them to argue.

Harry, of course, took the challenge. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"It's not you they're looking for," he snapped, realizing his mistake when Draco's eyes hardened. "I just meant-"

"I'm going."

Harry's took a deep breath before he could put another foot into his mouth. "The last time you were in the Wizarding world, they'd tried to kill you."

"We're not going to the wizarding world, are we?"

"You know what I mean!"

Soren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You'll both go." Harry looked like he might argue, but Soren continued. "But we'll take precautions. The Guard will go with us and the two of you will be charmed to appear as you were when you last resided there. I'd like to keep our hand to ourselves until we know the full extent of their plans."

"When?"

It was the first time since he'd breached the news that Hendrik had spoken.

"Two days." Soren replied. Two days was enough time to get everything organized and put the precautions in place. "Tell them we will meet them in two days time at dusk."

Even with two days to argue their points, Harry still wasn't comfortable with Draco tagging along. There were too many variables, which had caused the weight on his chest to double. He was restless and his mood suffered for it. Even Erebus shifted beneath him in response to the trapped energy rippling beneath the strong glamour he was currently wearing. Gone were the elven clothes and features. He'd been returned to how he'd appeared the last time he'd visited Hogwarts. Draco too, wore the form Harry had remembered seeing that last train ride back from Hogwarts, sneer included.

The blond hadn't taken kindly to Harry thinking that he was a danger. Nor had he taken kindly to the brunettes attempts to keep him tucked away in the Manor. Harry had tried to express that it had nothing to do with Draco's ability to protect himself. Chances were, those who had tried to kill him believed him to be dead. It wasn't such a bad thing to let them believe that. The moment he showed up with Draco Malfoy, of all people, in tow, suspicion was going to be raised and he could guarantee that tongues would wag. The news that he was alive was going to spread just as fast as the fact that Harry was currently keeping company with the Elves.

Of course, this had made no impression on Draco.

Harry's eyes shifted to the blond who rode next to Lothair, his mounts coat a deep chestnut with a mane as dark as Erebus'. Much to Harry's growing irritation, the git moved with ease as though he'd been born in the damn saddle. Just another thing the pompous git was better than Harry at.

"If you keep scowling like that, your face will stick like that."

Harry grumbled something rude as he turned to glance at Gwynn, who rode beside him. An addition to the party that had surprised him. Much to either of their surprise, Ilaria had invited her to join them. She apparently had proven her worth against werewolves on his mad dash to save Draco. She also "could anticipate crazy" or so Ilaria had said with a knowing glance at him. Regardless of the reasons, he supposed, he was glad to have her there. It was a calming presence in the storm that was his thoughts.

"Maybe I want to scowl permanently," he grumbled. So far, he'd been doing a lot of that in this place. With Draco and his attitude staying for the foreseeable future, he had a feeling that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"It's a good plan, really," she nodded, "you'll never have to worry about the servants fawning over you."

The comment surprised a snort of amusement from him, releasing one of the many knots in his soul and lightening his mood even if just a little. "That's a fair point."

"Shave your head and start muttering to yourself and it'll be the foolproof."

That earned a full laugh from him. "I'm not shaving my head. We'll have to think up another plan."

"Too bad," she sighed, leaning forward slightly, eyeing the image of his old hairstyle. "I would have liked to been the one to shave it all off."

Harry shook his head. "It's not that bad," he muttered, lifting a hand to pat down his head, even if he knew his hair didn't actually look the way she was seeing it.

"Yes," she said dryly, "It is."

She certainly wasn't the first one to have ever said it. Hermione used to try and smooth it out from time to time, though she wasn't quite so blunt with her opinion on it as Gwynn. Eventually, she'd just sort of sigh and accept it as it was. She never could get it to settle.

"Just be glad that it's settled a bit, then."

"A bit is stretching the truth," she muttered, shaking her head. "You're the only Elf I know whose hair sticks up out of a bloody braid."

Harry chuckled. She wasn't entirely wrong, but he was pretty sure it was only because he usually braided his own hair and he certainly didn't have the skill for it that Rosalind had or even Gwynn had. Hers never slipped from from its hold. Short of asking one of them to do it for him every day, there wasn't much else to do but hope he'd some day get better at it. By the look on Gwynn's face, however, he figured that day was far in the future.

When he glanced back to her, she was facing him, her eyes shifting to draw his attention. Following the path, he noticed the slight tilt of Draco's face and one flashing silver eye pinned on them. Narrowing his own eyes, he turned back to Gwynn and offered her the brightest unconstrained smile he could muster. Leaving Gwynn to blink in surprise. It was an advantage he'd learned early on, especially when it came to softening Sheedra into giving him extra helpings of food. Though, by the dazed look on Gwynn's face and the sudden influx of magic thrumming through the circle, it worked a bit too well.

Glancing back to Draco, he found only the rigidly straight back of the blond. There wasn't any question as to where the influx of magic was coming from. Even Lothair's well trained mare tried to skitter away from him. There wasn't anything to see, but Harry could have sworn he saw blue flames rising up to lick at Draco's limbs. A moment later, he blinked and the image was gone as quickly as it had come. No signs of the blonds magic save the heavy presence lingering in the air.

Soren, urged his mare out of line to fall into step beside Draco, the two of them speaking quietly. The sharp punch to his arm that had him scrambling to stay upright in his saddle prevented him from trying to hear what was being said ahead of him.

"Stop trying to infuriate him!" Gwynn hissed, having regained her senses.

"He infuriates me all the time!" he hissed back.

"Do you notice that every time you infuriate him, he hates me all the more. I haven't even done anything!"

He supposed she had a point. He shouldn't have used her for his own revenge. "Sorry," he muttered, feeling a little guilty for it. It wasn't her fault that Draco was so bloody frustrating. Nor was it really her fault that he seemed to have such a dislike for her or the fact that he might show some form of happiness. Maybe scowling all he time really was the answer. At least then the prat wouldn't be so temperamental all the bloody time.

Ahead of them, Draco was still fuming, though he'd quickly reigned in his magic after speaking with Soren. The older elf was right, if they went into this meeting with him blasting his magic every where they'd take it as a sign of hostility. Still, it infuriated him that every one else seemed to be taking this meeting seriously and that Gryffindor idiot was flirting with his little girlfriend. He'd been the idiot to insist on this damn meeting in the first place! Every inch of him wanted to smack that smile right off his stupid face. The only thing keeping him from doing so was the fact that they were rapidly approaching the border and the arranged meeting and he had other things to worry about.

Trust Snape.

Those words haunted his dreams every night. Being raised in a house full of Death Eaters, Draco knew that Snape was working with Dumbledore. Word among the Death Eaters was that he was spying for Voldemort. His mother's instance on trusting him, however, had him wondering who exactly the man was really spying for. Was he Voldemort's inside man or was he in the pocket of that old fool Dumbledore. Neither option really sounded like a winning situation, but when stuck between a rock and a hard place, at least Dumbledore didn't cause murder and mayhem quite so freely.

His insistence on joining this group hadn't been anything quite so noble as wanting to be a part of it or even wanting to protect that idiot behind him. He'd insisted on going because there was the possibility that Snape would be present for the meeting and he might then get the chance to confront him and determine whether or not he could be trusted.

It could give him the opportunity to find information on his mother. Information he wasn't sure how far he'd go to get.

The sound of hoof beats against the Earth drew him from his internal thoughts, his eyes easily spotting the scout they had sent ahead of them. "They arrived roughly twenty minutes ago. Five of them."

Draco debated the information, his eyes scanning the land ahead of them. From their current vantage point, he couldn't see them. If there was five of them, Draco could only take a guess as to who Dumbledore would bring along. Moody, was likely. Maybe Lupin. Severus was a possibility, but there was still too much unknown about Snape's involvement with Dumbledore to know for sure. Was he trusted enough to be brought to a meeting such as this? Was Snape ambitious enough to try and talk his way into the meeting if Dumbledore didn't trust him completely? They were all questions he didn't have a sure answer to and only seeing those gathered for himself would begin to answer them.

"Are they armed?" Ilaria asked.

"They all carry wands," the scout confirmed. "Nothing else."

"That's not out of the ordinary," Harry commented, urging his horse up to where Soren and Ilaria were sitting. "The wouldn't have come without them."

Sorren nodded his agreement, even as Lothair asked if there was anything suspicious about how or where they had gathered.

"One of them is not human."

Surprise spread quickly among the group, but Harry let out a breath of relief. "Remus. It has to be."

At the look of confusion on Soren's face, Draco rolled his eyes. "A werewolf," he offered by way of explanation. "Bitten. Not born." As he said it, his eyes shifted to Harry and he rolled his eyes at the confusion he saw there as a low murmur swept the group. The prat really had no idea about anything.

"I suppose that would explain why they were able to find the border. Even one who was turned would have been able to scent the division if they looked hard enough," Lothair commented, his eyes turning to Soren."

"Does that mean Remus can cross the border?" Harry asked, his tone held a hint of hope in it that had Draco rolling his eyes.

"Technically, yes, but it wouldn't be in his best interest." Seeing the confusion on Harry's face, Draco took it upon himself to elaborate. "Didn't you notice the fact that the werewolves in the realm turn into Wolves when they transform, not grotesquely misshapen dogs? They're pure, meaning they were born with the ability to shift. Yes, their saliva is poisonous to those outside of the species, which makes biting a human taboo. As far as they're concerned, Lupin is an abomination that they will not feel badly about ending, which is likely why Dumbledore hasn't sent him in to spy. A spy is no good if they're dead."

There was something like pain that flashed through Harry's eyes at Draco's words and despite the satisfaction he assumed he'd feel at the win, the feeling that clawed through him wasn't satisfaction. Far from it.

"Let's continue," Soren said, nudging his horse forward. "If we delay further we will arrive late." They would take care not to show any sign of weakness. They had no idea what they were walking into and no matter how much Harry insisted that they were unlikely to be hostile, no one else was taking that chance. They would show a united front with little weakness to exploit. It was the only way to handle this situation with any amount of success. Soren still had some misgivings about this meeting, even if he couldn't deny the fact that it was necessary.

The group continued to move forward, silence stretching out to embrace them all. No one, not even Harry, was inclined to break it. It had been a long time since a meeting of this making had been arranged. The elves had taken the initiative to pull back from the human world and all those in the group understood the significance of making contact with them now. Had it not been for Harry's connection to them, this meeting wouldn't have taken place.

Silently they moved forward until they reached the tree line blocking the borderlands from view. Carefully, the group spread out to move through it, the three High Lords ahead of Harry, Draco, and Gwynn. The rest of the guard fanning out on either side. They made their way forward, through the dimly light woods until they breached the edge, stepping out into the murky light of dusk and into the sight of the five Wizards awaiting them.

Draco's eyes scanned the group, his entire body stilling as they landed on Severus, the brief flash of surprise in the older man's eyes made it clear that he was just as surprised to see Draco as he was to see him. That did not mean that there was any good reason to believe that surprise was anything that would work in his favour. Forcing his eyes away from the Potions master, he cataloged the rest of the group. He hadn't been wrong when he'd guess that Moody would be among those who arrived. The last party, however, surprised a raised eyebrow out of him. "Nymphadora?" he asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow. Why in the bloody hell had they decided to let his ridiculously uncoordinated excuse of a cousin to tag along.

It was the first words to pass from either party and Draco realized the slip a moment after the word had slipped past his lip, the irritation at himself slipping onto his face before he could control it entirely. Bloody hell, he'd clearly been spending far too much time with the Gryffindor to his left. The gits bad habits were starting to rub off on him.

"Draco?" she snapped, her own surprised morphing into an instant dislike that had been nurtured for years. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Before the situation could deteriorate further, Dumbledore took a step forward, breaking the Auror's focus on her cousin. "Greetings. I'm pleased to see both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter are in good health. Their absence from their respective communities have been strongly noticed."

Lothair scoffed at that, but held his tongue.

"I was under the understanding that you had received my earlier communication," Soren commented calmly, as he dismounted from his horse. It was a means to show respect by putting them at a more even level. The rest of the group, however, remained firmly on horseback. Even Harry kept in his saddle, though he looked like he wanted to hop right down and run over.

"Yes, we were informed of your intentions for Harry," Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging the previous letter, "But I'm afraid you don't understand Harry's importance in our world. He has a duty to fulfill that was put into place by his parents before him."

So that was it. The old man was going to use Harry's weaknesses to persuade him to return. One glance to Harry and the guilt lingering just beneath the surface told Draco just how easily that tactic was going to work. A flash of anger moved through him, though he couldn't be sure if it was directed at Dumbledore's gal or Harry's stupidity. Shifting forward, he moved to block the stupid Gryffindor from the old fool's view.

"Here I was thinking it was you who created that duty for him," Draco drawled, the perfect replica of his usual disdain.

"The death of James and Lily Potter is nothing to be mocked, Mr. Malfoy. Would you not want to avenge your Mother's death should you find yourself in Harry's position?"

Anger flared again and this time there was no confusion as to who it was directed at. That manipulating old fool knew about his Mother. How much, Draco couldn't be sure, but it infuriated him all the same.

"I understand that you mean well,"Soren continued, cutting off the conversation between the two and allowed Draco the chance to shift his eyes to the Potions master standing behind the Headmaster. The slight turn of the man's head told Draco that Dumbledore did not know the entirety and that barb had been the extent of the man's knowledge. It also made him realize that Snape knew more, which meant he needed to find an opportunity to speak with him. His attention shifted back to Soren as the Elf continued. "But your concern is no longer necessary. Harry has found his place in the world and revenge is not something that he needs in order to find himself at home."

Draco smirked at that. It would seem that Dumbledore wasn't the only one who knew his way around constructing a threat. He glanced to Potter in his peripheral to see his hands loosen on the reigns in his hands. For someone who'd be groomed to be the war horse, it was easy to see the effect the comment had. He'd been welcomed into the Wizarding world under the condition that he defeated Voldemort. Soren was offering him a place without wanting anything in return. Sure, Harry was expected to be their crown Prince but he had the opportunity to turn it down without being turned away. Whether he was Prince or a servant he was still an Elf.

Dumbledore, it seemed, could also appreciate the importance of Soren's words as that unshakable persona he'd built up around himself cracked just a little as the twinkling in his eyes briefly flashed something much more sinister.

"And what of Mr. Potter's loved ones?" he asked, regaining control of himself and returning that annoying twinkle back to his eyes. "Do they no longer deserve his attention? Shall the Weasley's be sacrificed to satisfy your claim to him?"

"I haven't abandoned them!" Harry protested, trying to move around Draco, but this time Gwynn had shifted to block his way.

"Molly Weasley is beside herself with worry. Would you deny her the opportunity to see that he is safe from harm?"

"Harry is more than welcome to come and go as he pleases. The borders of our lands do not keep him confined. Should he wish to see those he cares about, he has the freedom to make that decision."

Another carefully worded bard.

"Why didn't you return to school, Harry?" This time it was Remus. He didn't bother looking toward any of the Elves surrounding him, his eyes went straight to Harry. Draco, despite not having any affection for the man, could at least appreciate his need for a response directly from Harry.

"It wasn't intentional," Harry responded, earnestly, "I just- There was so much going on that I didn't realize so much time had passed. I didn't intend to disappear."

Not letting the opportunity slip by, Dumbledore spoke again. "So you plan to return to Hogwarts, then?"

There. That was his opportunity. Before Harry had a chance to responded, Draco took the opportunity. "I do," he confirmed, causing more than a few sets of eyes to snap to him.

"What?" Harry gaped. Even without looking at him, Draco could feel the questions burning into the back of his head. He had, after all, basically said the opposite back at the Manor. If truth be told, he didn't give a shit about continuing his education, but this was the opportunity he needed to find out the truth and he was going to take it. Ignoring the brief flash of guilt from his actions, he continued.

"I would like to, however, speak with Professor Snape regarding my return. He is my Head of House, after all."

There was a seed of triumph in Dumbledore's eyes. Draco could see it even from where he sat atop his horse. Dumbledore understood the same thing Draco did. If Draco was returning, Harry would to. He wouldn't be able to help himself. He'd put himself right into Dumbledore's hands just because Draco was going to. It was just the sort of selfless idiot the Gryffindor was.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, motioning to Snape to allow the conversation.

Draco briefly met Soren's shrewd gaze before dismounting and making his way across the gap between them to meet with Snape.

"I seriously hope you know what you're doing," Snape muttered only when they were out of Dumbledore's earshot. He didn't think they could move far enough to be out of the ear shot of the Elves, something he understood Draco knew.

"My Mother?"

Snape shook his head. "There's no sign of her dead or alive, which makes me believe that she's still alive. Lucius isn't one to pass up on an opportunity to make an example."

His jaw clenched tightly at that, but he nodded his understanding. Severus was correct. If her body hadn't been produced, chances were he was keeping her alive.

"The Manor?"

Again Snape shook his head. "I've been looking, but I haven't found any signs of her."

Draco frowned. That didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't there. On the other hand, there were a handful of other properties the Malfoy's owned that he could be keeping her. In the end, the information didn't put him any closer to finding her.

"If Lucius finds out your back, he'll be looking to finish what he started."

Draco glanced back at the man and studied him for a moment. There wasn't pity in his eyes, but a sharp understanding of the situation. Pity wasn't necessary and it certainly didn't serve a purposed. The man before him understood that. "I know."

Severus didn't press further. It was clear to him that Draco had no intention of letting that hinder him and, frankly, he was just as interested in discovering whether or not the Malfoy matriarch was still among the living. If Draco and his new found connection with the Elves could assist in that matter, he was more willing to allow them the opportunity to do so.

Draco taking the silence for what it was, spoke again. "Can I trust you?" he asked, frankly. He would give the older man enough credit not to beat around the push or try and play word games with him. His blunt question, he knew, would earn him some sort of respect and he hoped that was enough to earn him a straight answer.

"Where you're going? I'm the only one you can trust."

Draco nodded, taking the comment for what it was: a warning.

"Though," the man added, "I wouldn't be all that disappointed if you managed to leave Potter behind next time."

A flicker of amusement and Draco was back to being serious. There was more meaning there than just the voicing of a well documented dislike. "I'll do my best."

With a final nod, he turned and headed back toward the group he'd arrived with. Most of them were eyeing him with curiosity, some with suspicion, but he supposed that was to be expected. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't looking at him at all and, in a rare show of control, wasn't giving anything away emotionally either. The only sign that anything was wrong was the nervous glances Gwynn kept shooting him.

Reaching his horse, he silently mounted and retook his place in line. He would offer no comment here. If Harry wanted to rant at him, he could do it later. It didn't matter now.

Soren, seeing no further sense to an extended conversation with the wizards across from them, turned back to his own mount. Once back in the saddle, he directed his attention to Dumbledore. We shall make preparations for Draco's return. We shall notify you when he is ready to return.

Beside him, Draco felt Harry tense, but not a sound escaped the brunette and he wasn't entirely sure that was a good sign.

to be continued...