Hermione and Ronald tumbled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. They had run all the way from the vanished room where they'd left their Slytherins, rushing to answer Harry's urgent message on their galleons. He didn't seem to be in trouble though, sitting on a sofa in front of the fire tossing a snitch. Hermione fell heavily into the cushions beside him while Ronald sunk to the rug between their feet.

"There you both are," Harry said, pocketing the snitch. "Right. Tell me everything you know about Occulmency."

Hermione groaned. "That's your emergency? You're too lazy to go to the library to look up Occulmency yourself?"

"No, I don't need that kind of information," Harry said. "It's personal. Dumbledore says I have to learn it."

"To stop you having those dreams," Hermione finished, nodding. "Very wise, of course."

"Well, sure," Harry allowed. "But he says I have to learn it from Snape. Tonks says he's the best teacher we have but," he paused, leaning in to whisper to them. "But Snuffles hates the idea. Like, really hates it. We were talking about it in headquarters and it turned into this big, scary shouting match between him and Snape, name-calling and wands drawn and everything. I jumped in between them, but who knows what might have happened if the Weasleys hadn't all come in."

Hermione looked concerned now, but Ronald was still annoyed at not being with Pansy at this moment. "Yeah, that's alarming and all," he said, "but did you really have to call us back here in a great flaming hurry to have a rant about Snape? Come on, Harry."

"Look, there must be a good reason Snuffles is wary of Snape coming at me to read my mind. He doesn't trust Snape - "

"Harry, he doesn't trust Snape to be nice to you. He does trust him not to turn you over to You-know-who," Hermione insisted. "There's a big difference."

"So I just lay back and let Snape have free rein to read my thoughts, do I? There must be some way to keep him out," Harry said.

"There is," Hermione answered. "Learn Occulmency."

Ronald snickered but Harry was frustrated. "Not from him," Harry sulked. "He isn't trustworthy."

"But he is, Harry," Hermione insisted. "Tonks already vouched for him. And what's more, Dumbledore trusts him. As do Lupin, and Kingsley, Mad-eye, the Weasleys."

"My other parents trust him too though," Ronald said.

"See? This is exactly the problem," Harry raved. "Ronald's dad's name came up while they were fighting, actually. Snuffles called Snape Mr. Malfoy's lap dog."

Ronald scoffed. "My mother's, maybe. My father's, never." He was frowning, fingering his bottom lip. "In fact, I've heard people flattering my mother at her garden parties, saying she's a gifted Occulmens, the proof being that it was her who taught Severus Snape how to do it so well."

Hermione nudged him with her foot. "What do you know about Occulmency?"

"Not much," Ronald said. "Just what it is and that most of the Black family has a natural talent for it. Like Harry and flying, I reckon. Draco'd probably pick it up quick."

"Good to know," Hermione muttered to herself.

Ronald narrowed his eyes. "If Snape did learn it from Mum, it must have been before they got me, back in the bad old days when the manor was crawling with Death Eaters, and he used to come around more often."

Harry scoffed. "So Snape learned Occulmency at Death Eater camp during the war. I wonder what he's got on your dad, Ronald - what it is your mum wanted to make sure no one could ever dig up out of Snape's mind."

Harry flinched as he said it, as if expecting Ronald to spring to his feet demanding more respect for his parents. But Ronald seemed thoroughly distracted with his rather pink and swollen lip.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're hardly listening to me. And it's clear why. You've been off snogging someone new."

Instead of Ronald, it was Hermione who answered, her tone high and defensive. "No I haven't."

Both of the boys turned to her, Harry wide-eyed and looking a little sick. She was smoothing her hair over a dark red bruise she hadn't yet realized was developing on her neck.

Harry read the alarm on Ronald's face. He began to nod. "Oh, I see," Harry said. "You've gone and snogged each other. Had yourselves a happy Christmas together indeed."

They were both speaking at once, shaking their heads and shushing him.

Harry was speaking over them, his voice both amused and irritated. "Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming. But it will take some getting used to. Try to keep the snogging to a minimum around me, if you please."

"Will you shut it, Harry," Ronald said. "No one's snogged anybody here."

"Well you've been kissing someone. I learned to see it in your face ages ago. And just look at Hermione's neck." Harry's last outburst was loud enough for the rest of the room to fall silent, heads lifted to see her better.

She stood up, snarling, her hand on her throat. "Right, Harry Potter. Get up. We need to talk, privately and with the rest of the people involved." She took a galleon from her pocket, slightly bigger than the one the DA used for communication, and drew a message on it with the tip of her wand. "There," she said. "We'll meet them outside the portrait hole. Umbridge won't give a care if they're out past curfew."

Before the nightly alarm was set for the door of the common room, Ronald, Hermione, and Harry stepped out into the corridor.

"This is all very dramatic," Harry said. "Just tell me who's meeting us and let's be done with it."

"No, it's better this way," she insisted. "Wait until he gets here."

"It's your bloke and you're not proud of him. Then I'm guessing, Vincent Crabbe," Harry smirked.

Ronald faked a retch.

"I'm plenty proud," Hermione answered primly. "I just won't speak of it yet. We need to spend our time out here private explaining what else we learned over the holidays."

"If it's about the Death Eater prison break, I already know," Harry said, his mirth gone all at once, leaving him sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his knees pulled up to his face-level. "They're getting stronger, and bolder. First the attack on Mr. Weasley at the Ministry, and then a breach of Azkaban. I can't help feeling like - like we're wasting time, like we're losing."

Hermione sat beside him. "Yes, there's that," she said. "It's scary, and I'm sorry. But there's more. We're more closely connected to the Death Eater escape than you might think."

Ronald took it up. "When Bellatrix Lestrange got out of prison, the first move she made was to come looking for Draco and me. Our parents barely got us out of Hermione's house and back to school safely before she could round us up for You-know-who."

Harry frowned. "Why did she want you? And why were your parents working against her? I thought Bellatrix and your mum were sisters. I thought they always planned on letting Voldemort have the next generation - at least Draco, anyways."

Ronald let out a long breath. "There's only one thing my parents have always planned on: survival. Their own and that of the Malfoy family line."

"Which, when you come down to it, has nothing to do with you," Harry said, meaning it as a compliment, a comfort. "So once Voldemort has Draco as his littlest henchman, he should be satisfied and you should be fine. When the Malfoys come apart, you can stay with the Weasleys, and the Order, and," he swallowed, "with me."

Harry was genuinely surprised when Hermione's temper flared. "It's as easy as that, is it?" she demanded. "We just sacrifice Ronald's brother and be done with it? No compassion for him? No regrets?"

"That is not what I said," Harry protested. "Of course I don't want Malfoy sacrificed. I'd fly through fire to save any student at this school, even him. All I mean is that, since Draco is the literal heir to the manor and the fortune and the rest of it, he is the one that Voldemort, with his disgusting obsession with bloodlines, cares about."

Ronald sat down beside Harry, his head in his hands. "Bloodlines," was all he said.

Harry threw his hands up and let them fall with a slap into his lap. "What is going on?"

Still sitting, Hermione turned to face him. "There's a potion, and old potion for determining a pure-blood wizard's paternity. And since Ronald was having - certain misgivings, we brewed it over the holidays and tested it on him tonight. That's where we were when you were looking for us."

Harry's face blanched. He loved Sirius but he seemed to prefer to relate to Harry as a replacement for James Potter, as a brother, an equal. The Weasleys, on the other hand, they had everything, siblings and parents. They were whole and pure, a true family - Harry's family. Whatever Ronald was about to tell him, there was only one answer Harry could accept about Ronald's paternity. He spoke it himself. "Your bloodline is Weasley, Ronald. I know it. Ginny and the twins are your brothers and sister. Molly is your mum. And…"

"Arthur," Ronald finished when Harry's voice trailed off. "Arthur is not my father. Molly is my mother, and Lucius Malfoy is my father, my father by blood."

Harry was on his feet, pacing and swearing. "No, you botched the potion," he said. "You're rubbish at potions, Ronald. Everyone knows that."

"I hardly touched it," he said with a miserable shake of his head. "Draco gathered everything for it and he had Hermione's help putting it together. She was the one who finished it off. It was nothing like as fussy to make as polyjuice potion, and you know she's been brewing at that level since second year. It's not the potion. It's me, Harry. This is who I am."

Harry's grief wasn't so much for the change in Ronald's identity, but for what it said about Molly, the woman who loved him like her own son. How she could have... He couldn't bear it and let loose another volley of swearing. "He forced her. It must have happened during the war, when he was at his worst. He must have..." Even in his anger, Harry couldn't say the word.

Before Ronald could rise to the insult, Hermione dived in. "No, Harry. We have reason to believe it was a love potion accident of some kind. A vital ingredient for a powerful love potion grows on Prewett land. It might have contaminated them during a conversation that should have been harmless."

"Just ask the twins," Ronald added. "Them using it in their shop's potions was what we were brawling about when you stuck your oar in and got yourself banned from quidditch."

Harry scoffed. "So you're telling me my best friend is just like Voldemort, born under the influence of a love potion without love, and now incapable of love himself?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said. "Ronald was worried it might be true, especially with his rather - erm, spotty history with girls. That's where his misgivings started."

"But I'm fine," Ronald hurried to say. "I've got no love potion damage. I proved it to myself, with someone willing to give me lessons on how to relate to girls. Someone, it turns out, I really like."

Harry stopped pacing. "Someone other than Hermione?"

"Yeah," Ronald said. "You know her, but - "

"Pansy's not coming," a voice called across the corridor. It was Draco Malfoy, his head just appearing over the landing at the top of the staircase as he stepped into their corridor. "She says coming running at Granger's beck and call is not part of the arrangement." He had nearly reached them when he stopped, noticing Harry and sneering at him. "You're here too now, are you Potter?"

"None of your nonsense tonight, Malfoy," Harry spat in reply. "It's not curfew yet, so shove off."

From his pocket, Draco drew an over-sized galleon and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. He turned a puzzled look to Hermione. "Did you need me or not?"

She sighed as she stepped toward him, her eyes on Harry's as she threaded her arm through Draco's and said, "Yes, I did."

Without the casting of a spell, Malfoy manor sensed the urgency in muffling the sound of Narcissa weeping in her bedchamber. None of her foul house guests heard her. No one heard except for her husband.

Lucius sat on the bed. He had come upstairs late on the night the Dark Lord arrived at the manor. His wife was shaking and suffering beneath their downy white blankets and sheets. He lit the lamps and uncovered her, small and pale, fading into the lace of her pillows and her nightdress. Eighteen years of marriage, and she still went to bed every night dressed as a bride.

He gathered out of the tangled sheets and held her against his chest, kissing her face and her hair. With one hand he clasped her to him, and with the other he brushed tears from her eyelashes, his voice cooing and shushing.

"Our children," she managed to say through her sobs. "Our beautiful boys, Lucius. They don't deserve to be tied to a nightmare of a home like this. And we don't deserve them. We're twisted and awful."

"Hush, darling, you're not awful," he whispered into her temple. "You are a wonderful mother. It's true that I am unworthy of everything beautiful we have ever had here. But I will fight for it all the same, so that the three of you, my wife and my sons, are not taken from each other."

She only wept harder. "No, I've failed them too. I had to choose between two sisters and I chose the wrong one. Now she's promised my children to a fiend."

Lucius cradled her head against his shoulder. "The children aren't hers to give."

"How can we stop her?" Narcissa sniffed against his thin white shirt, the colour of his skin visible where her tears had wet the fabric. "Even if she were to vanish back into darkness tomorrow, all of my mistakes, my sins against this family would still be with us, like a curse, ruining us."

"Cissa, please," Lucius said, holding her almost too tightly. "Fate isn't real. Suffering ends. Truly it was wrong, what happened all those years ago, with you and with me and the others. But you've always been so lovely about making the best of those mistakes. Don't give up hope that we can be happy in spite of them, not after all this time."

Her tears had renewed themselves. As she cried, she tipped her head away from Lucius's torso, looking at his face, seeing his tears. She raised her hands to hold his sharp, strong jaw against her palms. "What happened to you with Molly Weasley was an accident, not a terrible choice. There is a vast difference. And its silver lining is that we have Ronald. But what I did - "

"You did out of intense grief, and desperation, and love for this family." His tone was fierce, as if he believed what he said. "And don't say it has no silver lining. Severus knows who Draco's father is, to be sure, but he sees him as the closest thing to a child of his own he has ever had. There is nothing he wouldn't do for him, or for you. If we hadn't had those nine months when we couldn't know for sure, when Severus had cause to wonder if Draco was his own, he wouldn't have the attachment he has now - an attachment we've all come to rely on, since I am not husband and father enough to protect either of you - "

His words vanished into her mouth as she kissed him quiet, her hands in his hair. She broke away, shaking her head against his. "Don't, Lucius. You are my only husband, Draco's only father."

"Maybe so, but I know you depend on Severus. You care for him, as I care for Molly. You have to care for him. I've left you no choice," he said. "It's what keeps him split between here and the Order, what stops him from flying off like a hero to destroy himself trying to avenge Lily Evans. He watches over the Potter boy but also over you and Draco. The day may come when he has to choose and perhaps we will lose Severus then. But I thank the stars, I thank you, that for now, he protects our boy like his own."

"No," she was saying, kissing along the edge of his mouth, down his chin, onto his throat. "No, Lucius. Don't excuse me. But do love me, even without an excuse." Her hands were in his shirt, parting it and sliding it over his shoulders, her hands on the bare skin of his back. He lay into the pillows piled behind himself, bringing her closer, bringing them together.

Their family life was difficult, complicated by the lives and politics of other adults who shouldn't be there. But Lucius and Narcissa always had this - a connection in their souls and bodies so natural, so powerful, so much more than magical. Everything around them was terrible. There was a demon within their doors. Yet for a moment, they had each other to shut it out. They had the power to momentarily reduce the world to nothing outside themselves.

They lay together afterwards, their breath quiet again. Lucius stretched beneath his wife, her arms slipping into the space the arching of his spine created between the mattress and the small of his back. "I'll do it, Cissa," he said as he settled against her. "I promise you. I confirmed this evening that what the Dark Lord wants is the prophecy and Potter. I suspect that if he has those two things, he'll let our boys alone. And so I will get them for him."

She perched her chin on his sternum. "How? How will you get Potter from outside Hogwarts?"

"I'll lure him out," he said. "He's keen, but not smart. That nasty elf from your Aunt Walberga's old house, the one who came around moaning during the holidays - he said something that's been working in my mind. I think I know how to lure Potter to the Ministry, where the prophecy is kept. He'll give it to me. And then I'll bring them both to the Dark Lord. What happens after that is not my affair."

Draco looked down at Hermione's hand on his arm. "Did you already tell Potter, or is this display of affection you telling him?"

"Telling him?" Harry echoed.

Draco ignored him, still addressing Hermione. "Eager to get the word out, were you Granger?"

She swatted his chest with her free hand. "No, but you left me little choice once you stamped your mark on my neck."

Draco raised a finger to nudge her hair back from the bruise, snickering to himself.

"You did it on purpose!" she said.

He smirked. "Of course I did. The Black family has a penchant for marking its belongings. But I didn't expect you to walk around flaunting it. It can be covered up, you know."

Harry was swearing again, his hands over his ears. He couldn't deal with Hermione yet and turned on Ronald. "You knew about this."

"I was trapped in a little house with them over the holidays. How could I not know about this?" he said.

Harry was sputtering. "Then how could you let it happen?"

"I told them not to, but," Ronald waved a hand to where Draco was tracing the outline of his love bite on Hermione's skin with the tip of his finger, "look at them."

Harry would not look at them. In fact, he squeezed his eyes closed, new horror dawning on him. "So when he came up the stairs just now, making excuses for Pansy Parkinson, you must have been expecting her here because she's…"

"She's my girlfriend now, yeah," Ronald said, unable to keep from grinning. "Look, I don't know how it happened," he said, following Harry as he set off down the corridor, snagging his sleeve and keeping him with them. "But I don't apologize, and I do need you to stay and hear us out."

"It won't be that bad," Hermione was saying, letting go of Draco to approach Harry as Ronald dragged him back. "We have to see each other in secret or else the Malfoys might send Draco off to school in Bulgaria. Because of the holiday visit, they figured out one of their sons was seeing me. Ronald said it was him instead, reckoning they'd be less upset. But Snape heard him say it so we have to keep it up. Please play along, Harry. It won't be bad. Ronald and I are just going to act like we're in a sweet, innocent romance."

"Where he sucks on your neck until it bruises. Right," Harry huffed. "Why would I go along with this? Why wouldn't I rat Malfoy out and let Bulgaria have him?"

"Because we need him," she insisted. "He's a shield between us and Umbridge, keeping goons like Montague from doing any real damage to us, making it look to the Death Eaters like the Ministry is gaining ground when really they're just steeling students against them."

"There's no such thing as neutral," Draco said. "Granger's been trying to bring me 'round to that for weeks. I accept it. But the best I can do is to work both sides of it, keeping Umbridge satisfied, keeping the rest of the Death Eaters from harassing my parents, and making sure you lot can do what you feel you have to."

Harry had cringed at the sound of Draco's voice, leaving Ronald wondering if he'd heard him at all. "If it helps," Ronald tried, "you could think of Draco as a junior Snape, doing the same kind of thing only on not so grand a scale."

Harry scoffed. "No, that does not help," he raved. "This whole horrifying conversation began with me complaining I don't trust Snape and want nothing more to do with him. And how do you answer that? By bringing me another more chaotic version of Snape?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Does he know about the potion?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Right," Draco began. "Listen, Potter. I am not looking for your permission to protect my family. We used to think the Death Eaters would just dismiss Ronald as a Wizengamot glitch. But if Bellatrix is coming hunting for both of us, they must at least suspect that he is a legitimate Malfoy heir they could use to keep the manor under their control. Not to mention keeping our father under their control. I can't just offer myself in his place anymore. They're greedy for both of us. I have to help you, so you may as well make the best of it."

Harry's posture was slackening, not in relief or understanding, but in exhaustion, disappointment, defeat.

Draco tried one more time. "Ronald is your white knight. And I am your black one."

Harry shook his head. "I'm finished for tonight. I need some sleep." With that, he muttered the password and clambered back through the portrait hole.

Hermione and the Malfoy brothers stood looking at the portrait, the fat lady shrugging.

Ronald held out his fist. "Here," he said, bumping his brother's hand. "For the chess reference."

Draco managed a small smile.

"He'll come around," Ronald said. "Give him time and space. No one knows better than Harry that there's no neutral." With that, Ronald boosted himself back into the portrait hole.

Alone, Hermione threw her arms around Draco's waist. "Careful," he said. "The prefects should be patrolling through here soon."

She clucked her tongue. "That's rich. YOU telling ME to be careful. Our first proper snog session and you leave me with battle scars."

"Get yourself a decent healing balm," he laughed, pushing her hair back to see the mark again. "Someone in your dorm must have some. Ronald probably orders it in bulk."

'You're awful," she said, even as she nestled her face against his chest. "I didn't think of a balm. Muggles just wait it out."

Draco smirked. "They've got nothing?"

She considered for a moment. "Well, there's kissing it better."

He scoffed. "Does that work?"

"No, it's just meant as a consolation for being hurt. Makes you feel a little better but does nothing to heal it," she said.

Draco was bending toward her anyway. "That's for Muggles. What if a wizard kisses it better? Has anyone ever tested that?"

She leaned away from him, her hand pushing back at his chest. "You leave it alone. You've done enough already."

"Come on, Granger. It's the scientific method, isn't it? You love that."

She sighed as his lips brushed her throat. "I do."