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People in Glass Houses

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As his friends were shown around the rooms by an enthusiastic Ginny, Harry slumped on the sofa and gave in to the tugging feeling that had been pressing mutely against his head ever since he had woken. Closing his eyes, he followed the sensation to the edge of the Void in his mind.

Before him lay a lightly pulsing silver thread, among the various other bonds. Eyeing it warily, he tried to sum up his courage. Taking a deep breath, he grasped it and felt as if a hook had been sunk into his spine, reeling him in.

In a whirl of colour, he collapsed onto a smooth floor. Taking a moment to steady himself, he looked around. His hands were pressed against a seamless pane of glass, the world spinning down through clouds into the blackness of the Void below. He realised with a shock that he must be in someone's mind.

All about him, the walls were made of glass. Everything was, even the delicate plasterwork around the ceiling. Layer upon layer of it, stretching away into the distance and far above him. Stairs rose from the next room along in a confusing, reflective maze that remained perfectly visible. Frowning, he got to his feet and surveyed the area.

He was in a large, formal room that looked as if it should have a long, elegant table in it, but instead remained empty. Above him floated delicate glass candles, each with a silvery flame that Harry recognised as memory. Tugging one towards him, he peered into the flickering light.

He was sitting on an uncomfortably large chair, holding too big silver cutlery in his chubby hands. His mother sat too far away, and he wanted to go to her, but he knew that his father wouldn't like it, so he continued to attempt to cut up his meal.

To the left of his father sat a rather portly man, the Minister of Magic. Lucius was making small talk with him, and laughing condescendingly at his jokes…

Harry jerked backwards and let go of the candle, which promptly floated back into the air. So he was in the head of Draco Malfoy. It seemed strange that the sharp, offensive boy he had come to know had such a delicate, beautiful structure for his mind.

Not to mention fragile, he added with a little contempt.

Ignoring the dizzying feeling of being suspended in a see-through room far above the clouds, he turned out of the dining room and headed towards a set of grand stairs. He hurried up the seemingly endless steps, occasionally pausing to examine the memories around him. If he could find out what had been happening since Draco's initiation…well, there were definite advantages if he could get in and out unnoticed.

He passed mazes of corridors and halls of immense proportions, all softly reflective and very noticeably empty. Looking down he groaned, for the sight of the sky – even if it wasn't real – falling away below him made him shiver. If Draco ever built any traps into his mind, he could easily lose invaders like a horse could shake off flies. Harry just thanked his lucky stars that the boy didn't seem to have had that chance.

Casting a glance around, Harry's gaze fixed on a strange phenomenon that he had missed before. Although it was misted and distorted by floor upon floor of glass, it looked as if there was a large glass globe nestled above. He was almost positive that that was the boy's mind centre, and he wanted to reach it.

As he ascended, he noticed that the walls had gained small, hairline cracks in them, which grew to large splinters and finally holes missing. Looking at the final staircase, Harry wondered whether he should attempt to climb it at all, considering how fragile it looked.

The steps were missing in several places, and sharp spears of glass stuck out at angles. The handrail had snapped about halfway down, leaving nothing for him to grasp if he fell. The sky was open above, greenish clouds tinting the glass a similar, lurid colour.

With a flash of insight, Harry realised just who had been destroying his rival's mind, and felt a pang of sorrow. Voldemort shouldn't have the right to invade such a beautiful place as this, even if it was Draco Malfoy.

Obviously upwards wasn't the place to go, since he wanted to reach the globe that was now far below. He'd even passed it on one level, but although he could see it, it was impossible for him to reach it, and since Harry was reluctant to begin adding to the general destruction of the house, he had been forced to go round.

Shrugging, he walked along the upper corridor, running one hand along the fractured wall. He watched in fascination as the glass under his hands warped and then became solid again. It was as if a circle of it had been melted, and then left to solidify.

Smiling in wonder, he ran one gentle finger round the ripple, jumping backwards in surprise as a door and corridor appeared beyond the glass. Grasping the handle, he admired the work that must have gone into concealing the thing. He would have to try his own hand at it when he returned to his mind. Closing the door behind him, he watched with slight panic as it faded back into glass. He was sure he'd be able to break out if it really was a trap, but it didn't stop him feeling nervous about it.

The corridor ahead of him sloped downwards, winding in between the various rooms. Running a hand along the walls, he was once more impressed at the skill it would have taken to hide such a corridor. Its structure would have made it obvious if seen through one of the rooms, but Draco appeared to have put a lot of work into making it invisible from the outside. His respect for the Slytherin and his choice of mindscape was rising: the place could be a deadly weapon with work.

With mounting excitement, he realised that the corridor was heading towards the large globe in the centre of the complex. He broke into a jog, and finally rounded a corner, his breath catching in his throat.

The globe sat directly before him, thick glass forming it, and the surface swirling with an opalescent sheen. It looked like nothing more than a gigantic soap bubble.

Stepping forwards, Harry touched the surface, which rippled gently beneath his fingers. With a thrill of fear and exhilaration, he stepped forwards, feeling the glass caress his skin as he passed through it.

Only when he reached the other side did he realise that there was a problem.

Draco Malfoy sat in the centre of the bubble; cross-legged with his eyes closed. As Harry stumbled forwards he opened his eyes and levelled him a serene stare.

"Oh, a new trick," he said simply. "They've never got this far before."

Harry blinked at him.

"Uh…Malfoy?" he replied, bemused. "What is…why…do you have any idea why I was pulled into your head?"

Draco frowned at him, and Harry noticed with surprise that silver streaks dotted his cheeks and wound round his arms. There was something about them that called to him, like a memory of a dream that had slipped away like all the rest. Harry mirrored his expression.

"If you're really Harry Potter, then it could be the Soul Metal," he supplied.

"Soul Metal," Harry repeated. "Mercury said something about that." Brow still creased, he stepped forwards and flopped onto the floor before the blonde, peering at his arm.

"Still as impolite as ever Potter," Draco sneered, but it lacked conviction, as if he were merely acting on habit.

"I'll have you know I've improved," Harry said with a smirk. "I've learnt the proper dining etiquette at least."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Thank Merlin for that. It's always so unpleasant watching you Gryffindor pigs shovel in the food without a care in the world."

Harry laughed despite himself. "Fine for you to say, you're on the opposite side of the room. I have to sit at their table." He paused and the frown returned. "Or I did before I was convicted for murdering innocents by the Daily Prophet."

"Ah yes," replied the blonde. "I was reading about that. The public are such morons," he drawled. "Anyone who'd even seen a picture of you would know you couldn't kill if you wanted to."

Harry snorted in indignation. "And why wouldn't I be able to? I'd prefer to kill a Death Eater than a dog."

Draco lazily waved a hand at him. "That's because your precious Sirius Black is a mutt."

Harry's eyes widened and then narrowed. "Shit. I was hoping they wouldn't know that."

"Of course they would," Draco sniffed. "Pettigrew told the Dark Lord as soon as he had a spare breath in between the screaming."

"Crucio?" Harry asked with a wince. Draco raised a brow.

"What else?" he asked rhetorically.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I would have thought you'd be out and about, not sitting inside your own head," he said neutrally.

"I'm trying to repair the damage," the blonde replied with a blank expression that hid a small flash of pain.

"I saw." Harry paused and looked up. "I saw a lot of things."

"Such as?" asked Draco elegantly.

"Your initiation," said Harry, tapping his temples. "The dreams, you know."

"Everyone did always talk about you waking up screaming," Draco smirked.

Harry shrugged again. "It's true. Crucio hurts like hell, whether you're dreaming it or not." He paused to regard the pale boy before him. "Why did you do it Malfoy?"

The silver eyes narrowed and he looked away. "Did I have a choice?"

"I suppose not. You're father's not the nicest man at the best of times. I wouldn't like to see him after you announce you've changed sides," Harry commented. "Or become neutral," he added.

Draco eyed him with disdain. "Sides and neutrality are broad terms Potter. You use them in wars. We're not at war yet. I just don't want to be at someone's beck and call."

Harry chuckled. "You'll get that anywhere, unless you're Albus Dumbledore or Voldemort."

Draco didn't flinch, just regarded him with an unreadable look in his eyes. "Voldemort," he murmured. "I don't really feel the fear anymore. I don't really feel much. Since they cut it out," he continued, flicking his gaze to the Soul Metal.

Harry recoiled slightly. "Must have hurt," he said, more to fill the gap in conversation than anything else.

Draco stared blankly at him before spontaneously saying; "Do you know what it feels like to have a piece of your soul ripped out?"

Harry looked at him before slowly shaking his head. "As far as I can tell, I'm the one doing the ripping most of the time."

Those silver eyes bored into him. "It hurts like nothing you can ever imagine. Pain beyond pain. Suffering beyond suffering. Taking the Dark Mark felt like pleasure after that."

"It's a thin line Malfoy," Harry told him. He looked away.

"I know."

Harry glanced at him before looking at his hands. "I would have thought you'd be more irritated with me being in your mind."

"I would have thought so too," Draco replied vaguely. "But like I said, I don't feel much anymore."

Harry was silent for a long moment. "Would you change sides if you could?"

That penetrating gaze returned to him. "I'm stuck in between anyway."

Harry looked up with a frown. "How do you mean?"

Draco sighed and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, bearing the Dark Mark. Running a finger along it, he paused and then brought it towards Harry.

"I've got the Dark Mark branded on me. His Mark. It reminds me that I serve him. But at the same time…" he trailed off, and Harry tore his gaze away from the tattoo.

"What?"

"At the same time, I have the Soul Metal," he murmured, his finger tracing the silver alongside the Mark. "That reminds me that I'm bound to you."

If Harry had been less in control of his facial muscles, he would have gaped. Instead, he merely stared at Draco, mind buzzing. Finally he croaked out,

"Bound?"

"Bound," Draco confirmed carelessly.

"Merlin," Harry breathed. "Serving two masters…so that's…that's why you were taken out of school? That's why they cut it out?" he pursued. Draco merely nodded. "If you had a choice, what would you choose?"

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Don't get me wrong Potter, in my heart of hearts I still loathe you, but you aren't in the habit of using Crucio when things don't go how you want them to."

"I'll…" Harry trailed off, before standing abruptly. "I'll think of something."

Draco laughed that dead laugh again. "Sure you will Potter. I'll mock you when you fail, just like old times."

"I'm serious," Harry said. "I…I did all this, I caused the accident. I have a responsibility to figure it out."

"Thinking like a Gryffindor Harry," the blonde replied with a bland smile.

Despite himself, despite hearing his name come from his rival's mouth like that of an old friend, he smiled faintly in return. "When I find a way, we'll figure the debts out. Until then, I consider it an even playing field."

Draco just watched him. "If you say so."

Inclining his head, Harry closed his eyes, feeling for the familiar tug of his own mind and drew himself back.

---

"-rry!"

Noises came floating through to him, and he let out an involuntary groan. His head hurt like nothing else, and he raised a numb hand to grasp at his scar. Blood pounded like in an irregular drumbeat through his veins.

"Look…" he mumbled. "Just…quiet, for one moment."

The voices gradually subsided, and he was able to think again. Summoning his magic, he reached for a cold, dark strand and directed it to his forehead where the pain eased to a bearable ache. Feeling brave enough to open his eyes now, he blinked, and faces swam into view.

At the forefront of his vision was a blurred mess of colours that resolved itself into a familiar bushy-haired witch. Behind her stood Ginny, a visible scowl on her face, although it was directed at Hermione rather than himself.

"Right," he murmured. "I'm fine. You can sit down Hermione."

"Sit down!?" she exclaimed, just a little too loudly. Harry repressed a wince. "You were out cold! We couldn't wake you up!"

"Yeah, well you aren't in any position to make accusations about that are you?" he snapped. "Sit down and let me think."

For a moment it seemed that she was going to protest, but instead she merely shot him a look mixed with anger and concern and took a seat on the other side of Ron.

Draco, he thought. So he's bonded to me through the Soul Metal…Salazar, what does this all mean?

There was a pause, and then the familiar voice appeared in his head. It means, little one, that you have gained your first follower.

Harry sent back a sarcastic laugh. Wonderful.

Indeed, was the short reply.

How did it happen? Harry asked tiredly.

You tell me. Soul Metal doesn't usually create bonds between the creator and victim, the Founder told him. It creates a metal in a direct link to the target's own soul, not the creator.

Harry blinked. More Soul Magic? He suggested.

It does seem so.

Then I suppose I'll need to deal with that soon, Harry sighed. I can't just go around binding people to me.

On the contrary my little one, that is precisely what you are able to do. Soul Bonds are notoriously hard to trace, came the reply, and Harry could almost see him weighing up the possibilities.

But if I've got a Bond to him and to Voldemort, and Voldemort has added his own brand on top of mine, then… he trailed off, inwardly raising his hands in defeat at the tangle of events.

You felt the pull of a Summoning, Salazar said thoughtfully. I suspect that Voldemort Marked the boy with the idea that he may be able to override and control both of you, at a reasonable risk to himself. Interesting…very interesting.

Harry chuckled humourlessly. Great, he replied, a race to see who can master the mess first.

Salazar's delighted laugh resounded in his head. Precisely.

Harry paused and his eyes widened involuntarily as he remembered the incident that had created the soul metal. Salazar…I got my blood in that cauldron as well.

He could feel the Founder pause, ruminating on the events. That somewhat complicates the situation. However, with no other factors it should merely intensify the bond between young Malfoy and yourself.

Harry felt a sick, sinking feeling as he remembered yet one more thing. But there are other factors… he murmured. Voldemort took my blood to use in a potion to restore him to his body. He has my mother's protection now…but if it was her soul, how could the protection have come from my blood?

I can only theorise, until we have more time to investigate the nature of these links, but I can tell you my theories, Salazar said slowly.

Please, Harry replied.

Very well, little one. Blood magic and souls are inexplicably linked. Blood is the closest physical equivalent to a person's essence that there is besides the soul, making it incredibly powerful magic, Salazar told him. You have some of his soul in you, as well as that of your mother's, which would undoubtedly have an effect on the blood. To that end, the protection can essentially be modified by the use of your blood, and that is the reason that Dumbledore managed to construct some no doubt crude blood ward to protect you.

Voldemort's soul would have a similar effect on his own blood as it did yours, therefore, when he used it to construct his body, it would have resonated and acted with his soul. You have a Soul Bond with him, little one, and even if part of his soul is not in his body it renders it no less 'alive', for lack of a better term. This resonance with your blood may have triggered a flare in the bond, and recognising the blood in his system it would have been only natural for some part of the protection to be transferred.

He gave Harry a long moment to absorb that. After a moment, Harry sent back a mental 'nod' and asked another tentative question. And, the pain. Why do I feel pain when he's near?

Salazar's chuckled echoed around his mind. The Killing Curse manifests itself as its victim's negative energy and emotions, acting on them in such a fashion that a flare kills them. If you had a negative response to pleasure more so than pain, then you would feel it. Contrary to popular opinion, the Killing Curse is deeply unpleasant to be subjected to, and the victims do not die painlessly at all.

But, Harry began, but they don't look like they're in pain… he trailed off, realising how feeble his argument sounded.

Of course not, Salazar replied scathingly. The effect is instantaneous. The spell is beautifully and cruelly constructed, and the victim suffers an instantaneous rise of negative energy to such a point where the brain can no longer function, and death is immediate, although all that preceded was agony of the purest form.

Harry swallowed, trying to get the sick feeling to die in his mouth. So reassuring, he mumbled in response.

You asked, and I told you, Salazar replied laconically.

Right, he said. Right. So how does this apply to the bond with-

"Harry?" a voice pervaded his thoughts. "Harry, mate, are you all right?"

His eyes snapped open with annoyance. "I'm thinking Ron. I have…a lot to work out."

"Talking might help, you know," Hermione pointed out, calmer than before but still with a trace of bitterness in her voice.

Harry swallowed a sharp response and addressed her steadily. "I don't think it will, not this time Hermione. I just…I just need to think for awhile okay? Go and enjoy yourselves. You've got to be dying to see the library anyway."

The bribery almost seemed to work, but her expression hardened again. "Nice try Harry. Look, if you need help, we're here. You're obviously not going to speak about it now," she said, showing uncharacteristic restraint.

Harry nodded his head slowly, before looking around. "Where are Opa and Luna?"

"They're in the library still. They just went off when it looked like you were just fast asleep," Ginny said offhandedly. "Luna convinced her to leave, unlikely as it sounds. Besides, those two," she said, indicating Ron and Hermione with a glare, "were arguing loud enough that they didn't need much incentive."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to them. "Look, we're in Rowena Ravenclaw's personal rooms and you're arguing?"

They at least had the grace to look abashed.

"I'll come find you in a bit, all right?" Harry asked, and they reluctantly nodded.

"I'm staying," Ginny murmured to him, and he inclined his head as the other two stood. Harry couldn't repress a grin as he caught Ron's parting words.

"-no chance with those two, know what I mean?"

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes once more.

Sorry, he said.

No apologies, little one. Your friends must be…dealt with, after all, Salazar replied blandly.

Harry felt something between amusement and irritation at his tone, and opted to ignore the comment all together.

So, he began, how does this thing with Voldemort apply to the bond between Draco and me?

One would assume that the young Malfoy is also included in your mother's protection. Although the effect is debatable, considering the circumstances. He is rather acting as a third party to your connections with Voldemort, said Salazar.

Right, Harry agreed. So there's a Blood Bond between Voldemort and me, and another between Draco and me. I've got a fragment of Voldemort's soul, making a Soul Bond, and there's also a Soul Bond between Draco and me, although less strong, he summarised. He was marked by Voldemort, on top of the Living Metal, which I suppose is my mark really, and that adds another link via Draco between him and me. So really…it all comes down to how the Dark Mark works…

Indeed, Salazar replied. We do not know in what way the Dark Mark functions - if it is no different than a Blood Bond, or if it is something more.

Could it be a Soul Bond? Harry asked. I know you said he isn't a Soul Mage, but…

I doubt it. Soul magic requires at least some level of innate skill, and I doubt that he has such a thing, no matter that he may want it. I suspect it is merely a bond of magical nature.

Harry gave a mental groan. You mean there's a whole other bond thrown into the mix?

It would appear so, little one, Salazar replied, and Harry could feel his smile. The Soul Bond you share with Voldemort is of such intensity that it provides a link to your magic, which would explain the dreams in which you experience the Cruciatus.

Then I can manipulate it? Harry asked excitedly.

It works in both directions, Salazar added, and Harry's heart sank in muted horror.

He can access my magic then… he trailed off gloomily.

I never affirmed your assumption, Salazar pointed out. You have a link, but it is secondary, and you are not able to change the spells he is casting in the slightest, nor his magical reservoir. You will merely experience the effects.

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief. Okay, I can deal with that. If I'm in his head, I'll be able to feel the spells he is casting, but that's workable.

And in close proximity too, I assume, although it is not the time to test the theory as yet, Salazar suggested.

But…he…that night when he was resurrected…

Ah, but you had not established the secondary and more magical link through Draco Malfoy, if the Dark Mark does indeed establish a magical bond, Salazar told him.

This is just… Harry trailed off into an irritable dead end. Great, I can't kill him without dying, I can't hurt him without hurting myself, and we're pretty much equal, even with Draco as our 'follower' as you put it. How am I supposed to get a leg up on the guy?

Salazar laughed darkly. You forget little one, that you possess something he does not.

Oh, wonderful, Harry sneered, you're talking about some 'power he knows not', aren't you? I'm not going to be able to kill the bastard with bloody LOVE! he hurled towards the ghost with a fit of anger.

A frisson of pain ran through his body, sizzling at his nerve endings. Harry bit back a groan, but he couldn't repress the shudder. A small, familiar, cool hand came to rest on his arm, and he sent a mental thank you out for good friends.

Temper, temper, little one, the Founder's mocking voice returned, and it held that now familiar, dark quality to it that made Harry want to shy away. What do you have that he does not?

Soul magic, Harry returned with a whisper, cursing himself for being so stupid.

Precisely. All of Voldemort's magic cannot contend with the pure manipulation of his essence, the very thing that defines him, Salazar said in a low purr of satisfaction. That should give you every chance you need.

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Notes: So here we have a little more Draco development, and even more Harry and Voldemort development. I wanted to put the 'marked as equals' thing into the forefront a bit more – thus the bonds. The chapter title is a reference to the saying 'people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones'. I thought it applied rather nicely to Draco.