kickass: Thanks! Bashing is one of the things I really try to avoid.

: I'm so glad you like it! I appreciate you noticing that I'm trying to make the characters as human as possible - they all have good points and bad points and there is no 'good' or 'evil' when it comes to love. You just need to learn to get along. I hope you will like how the story ends, because I plan on making it worth the trip.

Miriam1: A silly, fun chapter was long overdue. I felt like we were getting entirely too serious there for a bit and it didn't really mesh with how I see the characters. Just because the dramatic bits are more story-relevant doesn't mean fun things don't happen in between.

Guest: "May you tan and freckle" was the worst thing I could come up with for the pale, pristine Malfoys without being intentionally hurtful. Glad someone else laughed when they read it, because my husband gave me funny looks when I thought of it.

All: Class is killing my free time. Thus far I do not have any. On the plus side the subject is easier than I thought and I scribbled this chapter and a few others on note paper while I was there. Finding the time to type them out... is proving difficult though.

It had been three months. The tension in the household was becoming dense enough to swim in. Harry's letters to what members of the Avery family remained after the war had been initially ignored, and then answered with detailed and verbose malice when he had refused to stop writing them. As far as they were concerned Harry's birth mother, whom they deliberately never mentioned by name, was a blood-traitor and a weakling and a menace to their 'good' name and this was communicated in a form of language that simultaneously denied she had existed to begin with. Their words twisted and evaded reason on the parchment with all the skill of a flock of birds being hunted by a hawk and Harry was left with a lot of evidence and logic for talons and nothing to show for it because he couldn't catch the things.

Severely disappointed, he had eventually left them alone to stew in their own bile.

Despite this setback Harry and Draco had made their peace and then continued fighting again purely for the novelty of having something to entertain themselves with when there was no other way to ease the tension. In the midst of it had come the suggestion that Harry erect a proper headstone for Labine in Godrick's Hollow if he was so obsessed with it. Harry did this and a belated funeral was held for her. James and Lily were included since Harry had never actually attended their funeral either. For the first time in his life Harry finally felt as if he had some closure in all of this. Nothing felt like it was missing, and just to piss off the remaining Avery family they had been absolutely certain to include Labine's full name, date of birth, the names of her parents, and the house she had been sorted into.

This was an event the media had raved over to such an extent that there was now no possible way for Labine's family to deny her existence anymore, and Harry publicly revealed them as disowning the birth mother of Harry Potter on purist ideals. Since he was now known to be a Cambion (which inevitably started the comparisons to Merlin) everyone sort of took it in stride. The wizarding world was strangely accepting in that way.

Last he heard, the Avery family had filed with the Ministry to change their name and relocate to escape the public outrage. Nobody in Harry's extended family – Weasley, Granger, Malfoy, Greengrass, or any of the others, could be arsed to follow the story from then on. The Avery's were no longer their problem.

Propagating the Potter name, however, was.

Narcissa was beginning to get discouraged. Despite repeated attempts, three months of anticipation, slow but steady progress on Lucius's recovery to his previous level of comfort with contact, and continued confirmation from Draco's divinations that they would yet succeed… their efforts had yet to bear fruit. Even Harry's excitement over Lucius finally being well enough to aid directly rather than through Narcissa waned in the face of consistent failure. Though this was only to be expected given the sensitive issue of Narcissa's age (which Harry had quickly learned was a taboo subject he shall never, ever mention again) they were all still a bit down about it.

Going to St. Mungoes for assistance was frankly not an option; Harry had been down that path once already and figured out that they were largely unconcerned with reproductive issues. Fertility potions were out of the question on Lucius's insistence because it raised the chances of multiples very high, and he refused to risk his wife's safety like that considering her age, to which point Harry agreed. All they could do now was keep trying, be patient, and not let it get them all stressed.

Harry was doing his very best to achieve all three at once and succeeding admirably.

Lucius was already asleep by the time they got to bed that night. Once the melancholy had begun to pass completely Lucius fell prey to the aphrodisiac effect of the unicorn horn and Harry had been more than happy to put out that fire once it had finally struck. Though Harry was still not able to do anything too invasive Lucius had been extremely accommodating and had allowed Harry to thoroughly wear him out. All of that energy had gotten pent up in Harry, and he paid Narcissa in kind. Whereas the two Malfoys had been able to get at least half a day's work done, Harry had been busy nearly from dawn till dusk... with time for meals between of course.

Now Narcissa was so tired that the exhausted lines on her face actually made her look a bit of her age. She dressed slowly and tied back her hair tightly before leaning over to kiss Lucius as he slept. Harry could sense the comment coming before she voiced it.

"I am nearly past my fertile time again," she said wearily.

"Remember, stress can't be helping," Harry advised. He put his arms around her shoulders. "The best advice I can give you is not to worry. The vow has no time limit and we are actively trying, and I don't have a single doubt."

"I only feel as if I am doing something wrong," Narcissa sighed. "Draco arrived so quickly." Harry was conspicuously silent. She elbowed him in the side.

"I didn't say anything," he defended.

"You were going to say that I was a lot younger then," she reprimanded him.

Harry put his chin on her crown and frowned. "I wasn't going to say it."

Narcissa huffed lightly and untangled herself from him. She got into bed. "I will simply have to count the days and try again."

Harry leaned in and kissed her warmly. "You can't expect me to leave you alone that long, though. We can play outside those specific days."

"Turn out the lights, Harry," she said airily, and he did so.

He got into bed beside her and tried to rub her arm for comfort only to feel her move away from him. "Would you use the spoon I gave you tomorrow?" he asked pleadingly. "It'll help you feel better." No answer. "Cissy-"

"I suppose I will," she allowed at last.

"Aren't you worried?" Astoria asked tersely.

She and Draco were lounging in the breakfast nook having coffee after hours. She had been pleased overall with how Harry had reacted to her gift, though the refusal from the Avery family had hit him quite hard. The atmosphere was beginning to effect her as well and, no matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to make Draco to react appropriately to it.

"It'll happen," Draco assured her confidently and smiled in that smug, all-knowing way he had that made her occasionally want to hit him. "Regardless of how long it takes them. I've seen it, remember?"

She poked at him with her fingernail until he winced and rubbed his arm. "That may be true, but knowing and helping are not the same. Divining that Harry's heir will eventually arrive doesn't give you a pass on being supportive to everyone until then. You're being a smug annoyance when you could be doing some good. I know you're dueling Harry to keep him busy, but that's just as fun for you too and neutral in terms of actually accomplishing anything. Why not spend time with your parents or offer to handle some of their business work while they're occupied with trying to conceive? You're well capable of running the manor and a few stores for a while to give them a break."

Draco poured himself another measure of wine and shrugged noncommittally. "I don't see how it concerns us, dear, as we had decided to make the point of being independent from my parent's rule."

"Being independent and being aloof are two very different things, Draco," she explained calmly.

"I don't see the difference," he said smoothly and once again smiled that smile that Astoria wanted to hit.

Just to get it over with before they had children, Astoria hit it. There was a point where the amount you loved someone was surpassed by their refusal to listen to reason, and Draco had passed it. Whilst her fiancé sat dumbly with a hand over his eye in shock, she stole his wine and strolled off; humming happily to herself and confident that she had made her point.

Harry dreamt of fire.

It hovered before him in a vast darkness that stretched beyond his ability to perceive. There was no up or down here, and so no force of gravity; thus the fire burned in perfect orbs of shimmering light. There was no flickering flame, no heat, and no source. They were simply there; alive, aware, and clinging to his energy as if lonely in this expanse of empty space. He enveloped them gently without touching any part of them visibly, though he could feel himself touching something anyway, as if there were intangible layers outside what he could see. Each was the perfect size for him to cradle in his palms and wrap securely in his fingers despite being devoid of a solid form to hold.

There were two; one delicate white and the other a proud violet, and both had no sign of being flames in any sense that a mortal would be aware of. They looked for all the world like perfect spheres of crystal, but Harry still knew beyond any doubt they were made of fire. Each thrummed with living energy against his ethereal skin like butterflies cupped in his hands.

As he floated there in comfortable darkness Harry held the flames close to him, staring into their depths in enthralled wonder. They were his. A link was here, forming between them in this place he had no name for, a place without form or flesh; where thought had more power than the sword. Harry was now becoming aware only he was to bear witness to this event, that no other could see it the way he did, and he would have held his breath if it was possible. Something was beginning that would change the way his little fires were linked to him forever, and the anticipation was like a ball of lead in his core.

The violet flame pulsed suddenly and shrank, the color of the outer layer falling inward like tiny shreds of spider silk. Harry cried out in a panic and gripped it tighter and closer to him, fearing for an instant that it may go out. Instead, lines of silk came from the white orb and penetrated the violet one, assisting with its own energy with the task at hand. At the center, like a bubble forming at the bottom of a cauldron just beginning to boil, another sphere began to form. Despite the appearance of weakness from the violet orb, it began to resonate and sing with strength and vitality. It had only become smaller because directing its energy inward was very important, and it needed to be denser.

The violet and white threads formed a silken cocoon in the depths of the violet sphere, which soon regained its original size. The bubble was empty, though, and Harry nearly cried out again for the terrible feeling that gave him. It shouldn't be empty, that was wrong, and he knew he could do nothing to change that just now. This was entirely up to his little flames. They were doing this work. Harry would simply have to be patient and watch.

It may have only been an instant to the flames, but it felt like an eternity to Harry while he waited for something, anything, to fill the void.

Quite suddenly both the spheres erupted with a green light Harry recognized as his own, like flower pods releasing airborne seeds.

He had put it there within them. They had been holding it for him, keeping it safe and saving it for just this purpose. As he watched with infinite relief and wonder the tiny specks of green flowed through the silken strands and into the cocoon from both of the flames until none remained outside the now full and satisfied bubble of life in the center. The two spheres dulled then, tired and spent. The cocoon was safely enveloped by the violet, the violet enveloped in the threads of its mate, and both had attached themselves invisibly to Harry's aura as if held in an orbit.

As Harry watched, enchanted by the sight and feeling of this wondrous event, the little green center of the cocoon of white and violet began to pulse with even, steady beats, emitting all three colors of light.

It was alive.

Harry woke, sat up, and looked around the dark room as if the now familiar and memorable place had spontaneously materialized out of a dull fog. He felt as if he were still dreaming and yet he was more awake than he could ever remember being. His head swam without actually swimming in that very particular way he got when he was in deep meditation and unaware of the world around him, yet he was looking at the real world now. He blinked twice, rubbed his eyes, shook his head, put on his glasses, and looked again.

Something was different.

Harry frowned. It felt undeniably like a good change. He was merely annoyed that he didn't yet know what the change was. Sometimes he thought that coming back from the dead had skewed his view of the world so badly that it was difficult to really feel things anymore. The final duel with Voldemort had been frightening, but hadn't rattled to his core like he had expected it to as he had felt every other time he had encountered the man. Fear had always touched him very deeply before speaking to Dumbledore at King's Cross and it had been an effective tool to use as motivation.

He had never felt that again since. Sure, Auror training and tracking down Death Eaters had been scary and exciting. Breaking up with Ginny and learning to be friends with her again had been emotional and enlightening. The prospect of having a child of his own and the stress of reconciling with the Malfoys and helping them start to get along with all of his friends had been difficult and not the least like trying to beat mice to death with a live asp that was trying to rear back and bite him.

None of that had gotten to his center, though.

Fear no longer chilled to his bones, stress no longer heavied his chest, pain no longer leaded his gut, and happiness or joy was like eating a mouthful of flavored sugar – it was good for a moment and then quickly melted away. Normality was always restored faster that it should have been and life was almost… too easy. It was as if coming back from the dead or, more accurately seeing the very edge of the veil, had dulled his ability to experience.

Before sensing this while attending funerals and memorial services, Harry had thought he was simply in delayed shock. But once he realized what was actually occurring – that he had developed the emotional equivalent of a shield around his core – it had all seemed to make a sort of sense he never dared to think about too deeply. Something had changed when Harry had left his body for that split second of real time, when his soul and core was no longer attached to a severe drain on his mental and magical power. Whatever it was hadn't bothered him because it felt as if he would recover eventually, when he found out what he needed to tear that shield down. It was what the councilor had said when he and Ginny had gone together to try and sort out their problems. Harry was simply in a strangely healthy emotional lockdown.

Now he felt like his entire being was connected again. Fortunately the calm was still there, and that was good. Otherwise he thought he might have been leaping around the room in a panic trying to identify what the bloody hell had changed so much. It felt good, but also urgently demanded his attention.

Harry took a few seconds to breathe and then got out of the bed. He didn't bother trying to be quiet or use his sleeping spell; it was now automatic. Lucius and Narcissa absolutely never woke if he didn't want them to so long as he was in the room to not want it. The spell was as simple and effortless as blinking and happened without his conscious intervention. This was extremely useful to him as he always woke around three in the morning for a while, so even the waking itself didn't seem strange… merely the sudden onslaught of feeling something had changed.

From the edge of the bed he looked back at them and smiled, seeing them safely and comfortably dozing, and he looked into the room to try and find out what had woken him.

Everything was in its proper place; nothing had been disturbed since Harry had rearranged. He tested the wards gently and sensed no intruders. Looking out the window beyond the tapestry doorway that led to the nursery only showed him a pleasant moonlit night and the hedges beyond that led to the gate. Harry noted that his eyesight was unusually clear for just having woken, because he could vividly see the pattern of the wrought iron despite the dark and shadows, but attributed it to seeker's skills and moved on. The elves would have informed them if a fire or something had broken out, as would the wards, so that couldn't be it.

Harry sighed and glanced behind him at the sleeping blondes. Narcissa in particular looked lovely in the dim light with her face toward the window, and Lucius had buried himself in a veritable hoard of pillows so deeply that he was no longer visible, one of which he had stolen from Harry some time ago. He let his eyes wander over both covered shapes appreciatively, scratched his head, noticed that his nails felt strangely sharp, looked at his other hand and promptly let out a yelp of surprise and fell off of the bed. He yelped again when it hurt more than he expected to land on the floor on his arse.

Harry lurched forward into a crouch as if he were about to lunge at an enemy, which was how he had learned to do that maneuver in the first place, and looked at his hands again. Yes, his nails were longer and sharper than they ought to be, but they still looked very much like his hands aside from being noticeably darker in color. What had caused that?

Absently he reached back to rub his sore bottom and didn't quite connect where he had expected to. His fingers stopped short and contacted flesh where Harry was quite sure there shouldn't be any. This was the first thing that truly alerted Harry to the fact that something was different about him. He would have to get back to it later, though, because his mind did not fully grasp the discovery before turning to look into the mirror muddled what spare mind he had left.

He experienced the feeling of looking at something that looked exactly like himself yet completely different. The lines and basic shapes were all the same. His face was familiar, and the shape of his eyes and nose. He was the right height, weight, had the same unruly black hair and startlingly green eyes.

The eyes.

They were black.

As in the part that was normally white was black, and it made the green irises glow in an unearthly manner in comparison. Harry winced when he saw them because he thought they were strange and not the least intimidating. As he winced his lips pulled off of his teeth and the more prominently defined canine teeth entered his line of sight. It didn't look ridiculously defined, such as one might find with a vampire. They were simply more noticeable. His skin color was as well. He wasn't so much tan as a honeyed bronze. Remembering when he had first noticed this made him look at his hands again, note the nails that were quite definitely recognizable as claws, and look down to see the same things had happened to his toenails as well.

As Harry turned to look behind him we now come back to the first thing, which is the blatant kangaroo-like tail. It was flesh from base to tip, and the tip dragged along the floor when he moved. Indeed it started right where he had first felt it; the base of his spine as it had once been.

And still Harry felt as if he was missing something important. He turned away from the mirror, deciding to deal with this apparent surge of his latent Cambion transformative abilities later. He whirled around and stared at the bed again.

As h stared at Narcissa, letting his consciousness drift that way without his body, he finally felt it.

They had succeeded.

"Narcissa," he said softly. He walked to the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder, grasping lightly. "Narcissa."

She stirred and swiped groggily at him and missed his nose by millimeters. "Unless the Manor is aflame, Harry, you will pay for this come morn. I was having a wonderful dream."

He smiled and sat next to her. "What was it?"

She had not yet taken her head out from under the blanket and merely grumbled at him. "A cauldron was overflowing with water and when it touched the ground flowers sprung up."

Harry, who was beginning to get through the book Draco had lent him on dream symbols and interpretation, nodded. "Hm. Were you picking them?"

She reached out from under the blanket and viciously pinched his thigh. After he grunted and leapt off the bed, rubbing the now sore spot on his leg, she said a simple and annoyed, "Yes, now go to sleep."

He sighed. "Will you at least look at me before you bury your face in the pillow again?"

A rather unladylike groan assaulted him and she sat up. "Wha-" was as far as she got before her eyes widened and she tensed like a bowstring. "You-"

Harry shook his head. "Not me," he insisted. "You. We did it."

Something in her seemed to relax and she lay a hand over her abdomen. "Then all is well." Harry was about to say something else when Narcissa leaned back against the headboard and eyes him suspiciously. "And how do you feel?"

"Fine," Harry insisted. "It might take a while for me to get used to all these new senses, but I'm sure I can manage."

"What new senses?"

Harry thought. "Some of it is hard to describe. For one thing I feel more. My emotions are stronger than they used to be. It's as if the shock of coming back after the second killing curse in my life has finally lifted."

She nodded patiently. "Do you believe this will affect your moods?"

"I don't know, I haven't had time to feel much more than confused and excited since this happened five minutes ago," he snorted humorously. He knew full well she was really asking if he felt angrier, but he didn't so he ignored it. "That was what woke me up, though. I could sense a big change. I didn't realize my appearance had changed so much until after I landed on my tail-"

"Lucius?" Narcissa asked carefully. She was looking into the mirror across the room that reflected the bed, and saw in it something Harry did not.

Harry looked where she was staring and saw what had caught her attention. Lucius was awake, breathing slowly but deeply, and doing that silent and stoic panic thing he had learned serving Voldemort. It only showed in his eyes and nowhere else, which was why he wouldn't look at Harry directly and instead focused on Narcissa with only slight worry on his brow. Harry had no idea when he had lost control of his sleeping spell, but it must have been because Narcissa was distracting him so much and his excitement that broke it long enough for Lucius to be stirred by their conversation.

Harry thought he looked for the world like a rabbit who, startled to find itself hopping along very firm and smooth ground, thinks the best way to avoid the two lights suddenly heading toward it very fast was to stare beseechingly at them until they went away.

And Harry suddenly remembered what he looked like.

He searched for Lucius's presence and felt something hard and cold there.

*This,* he thought darkly, *is not good for Lucius at all. I need to leave.*

Harry desperately wanted to carry Narcissa off somewhere and celebrate, but she didn't really need his intervention right now. Lucius did. He let go of her and leaned in to whisper, "Stay with him, alright?" She nodded.

"Lucius," he said softly. "I'm going to leave you be for now. Calm down, gather your thoughts, and come see me when you're ready, alright? I'll work on getting this shape-shifting thing working so I can look normal by the time you're prepared to talk to me."

Initially there was no answer, but a small whisper from Narcissa prompted one.

"Yes, Harry," the man said tightly.

Harry nodded. "Thank you. Both of you."

He could actually feel the tension in the room behind him lessen after he was out of their sight. It was his first instinct to listen in; to continue to reach out for their presence without their knowledge. He frowned and squelched that urge. It wasn't fair and he knew it - he would simply have to wait until Lucius was ready to come out and find him on his own. With some effort Harry pushed his body and his senses away from the room and went to wander the Manor.

Along the way he passed two mirrors. The first wouldn't show his reflection, but that was because it had been specifically spelled that way. Why, Harry didn't know, he had only been told it was deliberate. The second mirror reflected his image. He had to admit he did look quite intimidating. He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing they would stop glowing like that.

When he opened them again, they had.

Harry smiled. Not a bad start. He would spend the rest of the night practicing and let Lucius alone with Narcissa for company and they would find him when they were ready to sort this all out. They had already been through many such panic attacks and there would likely be more down the road. Harry could deal with them, and both Lucius and Narcissa were stronger than they realized. He had seen it in their cores.

Harry turned and prepared to go down to the buttery to get a witching hour drink when he almost bumped into Draco, who was walking along with something over his eye. The near collision caused the blonde to drop the potion-soaked cloth and Harry gaped at the prominent black eye... as did Draco when he caught sight of Harry in the light streaming through the windows.

Five seconds of awkward silence ensued.

"What happened to you?" they asked in unison.