Black Truth
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Ties that Bind
"But I don't understand why it's taking so much of his time to organize the funeral. Isn't that what the people he writes to are supposed to do?" Harry mused, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room opposite Ron and Hermione.
"Well that depends on what kind of a funeral he is going to give his father," Hermione replied crisply.
"Huh?"
"Well, most of the ideas that you and I would have of funerals are more muggle than wizard," Hermione explained. "As muggle-borns began to filter into the Wizarding World, they brought their traditions with them. So the older wizarding families, like Ron's, would probably stay with the strict wizarding traditions."
"So what's the difference?" Harry asked, looking to Ron.
"It's a family thing." Ron shrugged. "Only relations can attend. And then they bury the guy."
Hermione sighed. "What he's saying is, that in ancient wizarding customs there's no wake and no 'funeral' in our sense. Just the burying part, if you want to think in muggle terms. The family members meet at the house of the… person who just died, and they process to the family graveyard or mausoleum. Only those related by blood can then enter the place where the body is going to be buried and… bury the body."
"What's probably taking all of Malfoy's time is fighting everyone who wants his dad to have a more modern burial, with speeches and stuff," Ron mused. "But if there's any family that will stick to tradition like that, it would be the Malfoys."
But Harry didn't process Ron's words, thinking instead of how Hermione had described the burial process. "I'll see you later I have to go talk to Draco."
As Harry hurried out of the Gryffindor Common Room, Ron frowned. "What's he upset about?"
"I don't know," Hermione replied.
Harry stormed through the portrait hole, ignoring Medusa's ranting, and headed straight for the bedroom where he knew Draco would still be working on something. The blond didn't even look up when Harry entered.
"I'm not letting you bury your father by yourself."
Draco paused in what he was writing and looked up at Harry. "This is not up for discussion."
"Bloody hell, Draco, it's not damn healthy what you're doing! Your father died three days ago and all you've done now for two days is push people away."
"There is no other Malfoy family. I will deal with it." Draco began to write again.
Harry glared at Draco across the room for a minute and the blond ignored him. "I'm family," Harry hissed.
The quill shook in Draco's fingertips. "What makes you say that?" the blond asked in a strained voice.
"Your father was a Veriae. You are a Veriae. I am your Veriae bonded. That makes me family, doesn't it?"
"Not by blood."
"Doesn't matter. I can still walk with you, can't I?"
Draco sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I agree to this, are you?"
"No."
Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "Bloody Gryffindor," under his breath before looking up at Harry. "Fine. You can walk with me."
Abandoning his homework for his own sense of urgency, Harry headed for the library the first minute he could after classes had ended for the day. Harry quickly realized that he had no idea where one would store the kind of subject material he was looking for in a library setting, and therefore had to turn to Madam Pince for help. She looked rather surprised when a young teenage boy, Harry Potter no less, asked for where one would find books on wizard etiquette, but she gave him directions to a remote corner of the library and two hours later Harry found what he was looking for.
Many of the books he looked through had been about how muggle culture had been integrated into wizarding society. But that wasn't what he'd wanted. With a family like the Malfoys, he had to go looking for the oldest book on wizard etiquette he could find. He finally found it buried on the lowest shelf in the corner, so covered with dust that he sneezed when he pulled it off the shelf. Placing it on the table where he'd thrown his book bag produced yet another cloud of dust and another sneeze.
Harry began flipping through its see-through-thin pages, bypassing the long section on wizarding naming ceremonies to the section on funeral etiquette. Now that he was going to attend Lucius Malfoy's funeral, he wanted to know everything that would be expected of him, even if the only two in attendance would be Draco and himself… or maybe more because the only two in attendance would be Draco and himself. It was not that he did not trust Hermione to have her facts straight, but to be sure he didn't miss something important, something that maybe only Draco himself would find important.
After half an hour of reading, Harry found that his only problem was finding his family's colors. He didn't think that they had any, and wondered if the Potter family was even old enough to have family colors or a family crest and plus he had no idea how to find out if they did. But the book said that in the absence of family colors, in the instance of an orphan for example, the mourning clothes would only be black with the dark red cuffs. Of course, Harry did not own proper wizarding mourning robes, but he figured that Hermione could change the color of the cuffs on his normal robes easily enough.
Harry picked up the book to close it and place it back on the shelf before he headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. As he did so, the page he'd just finished reading turned, and the heading of the next section caught his eye.
Wizarding Engagements and the Marriage Rite
Harry bit his lip as he stood there for a second and then sat back down. He knew that engagements in the wizarding world gave younger wizards a status in a way very different from the muggle world where legal status was based on age. What if there was something else about it that Harry didn't know? He hadn't really pressed Hermione for any details for fear that she would jump to the conclusion that he was going to propose to Draco in order solve this legal fix that Draco - and subsequently himself thanks to Rita Skeeter - was in. But, he admitted to himself, it was a real possibility, even if it was very far-fetched. In fact, Draco himself was probably not even thinking of it as a remote possibility. No, only he was… and Harry didn't even know what he would be getting himself into.
Sitting back in the chair, Harry began to read.
The information to remember about wizarding etiquette concerning engagement and marriage was a bit more complex than that on funerals, which made Harry decide to write it out to make sure he did not forget anything crucial.
The book broke any relationship down into two beings, the caretaker of the pair (called the "maritus") and the one who was taken care of (called the "marita"). In a case with a heterosexuals the caretaker was always male and the one taken care of was always female. In a case with homosexual partners, the two would decide which would take the traditional "male" role and which would take the traditional "female" role. This, the book stated explicitly, had no connotation to what role the partner took in the sexual relationship between the two.
First there was a long courtship process that by now Harry and Draco had completely skipped over and rendered useless seeing as they had shared sleeping quarters, something that was forbidden during the courtship ritual.
An engagement proposition could only occur after the maritus had gained permission from both his own family and the family of the marita. This permission could come only after proper fulfillment of the courtship rituals, which he and Draco would have to skip anyway. The maritus would then kneel before the marita and request, "Where I am Gaius, there you are Gaia?" (slightly different than the traditional marriage vows, spoken in the first language that the maritus had learned). If the marita accepted, he/she would reply "Where I am Gaia, there you are Gaius". The maritus would then place the engagement ring on the marita's finger and the marita would do the same for the maritus.
In preparation for a traditional wizarding wedding, it was the job of the marita to provide the robes for both partners. Traditionally the clothing had to be hand sewn by the marita, but over time the custom had evolved so that the marita only had to pay for the clothes. The maritus would pay the "bride price" of the marita to the head of the marita's family, or the closest male guardian of the marita in the event that the marita had no family. This price was set by tradition of how wealthy and noble the family was that the marita was marrying into, and not, as muggles had used it, set by how much the marita was worth to the marita's family.
The actual wedding ceremony was done outside the doorway of the house that the couple were going to live in. The marita was walked up the driveway surrounded by the marita's family, and was lead by his/her closest male relative/guardian. The maritus waited just outside the closed doors to the house and when the marita reached the doors, he/she was given over to the maritus.
The rite of marriage itself had three parts. First the marriage vows were given in the language of the birthplace of the two to be married, a symbol of the connection between not only the two to be married but that there was now a connection between the lands that the two came from as well. "Where you are Gaia, I am Gaius" was spoken by the maritus, to which the marita replied, "Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia". The wedding rings were then exchanged. Then the wedding vows were said again, this time in Latin, to invoke the forces of magic themselves to watch over the couple to be married. "Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius," was said by the maritus, to which the marita replied, "Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia."
The next part of the marriage was the opening of the house doors, in which the couple quite literally opened the doors of the house. If the doors would not open it was a sign that the magical forces looked down on the marriage for some reason and the ceremony could not continue (Harry had no idea what would happen if the doors wouldn't open no one had recorded what would happen in such an event.). The marita was then carried over the threshold into the house (for it was considered unlucky if the marita tripped over the threshold when entering the house) and was carried to the ball room where the third part of the wedding took place: the traditional dances.
This was something that wasn't strange to Harry. Muggles used the same kind of dances at their weddings. The couple would dance first (and at this point they were considered married), then the marita would dance with the closest male guardian/parent to him/her, and finally the maritus would dance with the closest female guardian/parent to him/her. In cases with homosexual pairings, the gender of the person either partner danced with did not change.
But what surprised Harry the most was that it seemed to be proper for an engagement to last for years and then be dissolved without marriage. Even after the elaborate courtship ritual, it was proper in the wizarding world for the partners to be split, either for family or their own reasons. If the engagement terminated while a partner was under seventeen, that partner would return to being not an adult, or not legal, in the wizarding community. But if the engagement terminated after both partners were of legal age, they would retain their legal status. And in the case that a partner died while another was under the legal age, that surviving partner would still remain legal.
When Harry entered their bedroom that night, Draco did not comment on how late Harry was or how Harry had missed dinner. Neither boy spoke, both too enveloped in their own thoughts to voice them.
The Great Hall was a buzz of hushed excitement the next morning and Harry realized through the haze of half-shaken-off sleep that there were no more missing students at the Gryffindor table. His gaze shifted sharply to the Slytherin table as Draco took his customary seat in-between Crabbe and Goyle. They weren't eating as they normally were but were sitting there looking imposing, for once at their own housemates. The subjects of their gazes were sitting across from Draco, looking as out of place as First Years before the Sorting.
This morning Blaise and Pansy couldn't even look at Draco, decked out in the same colors he'd been in since the beginning of the week and would remain in until his father's funeral. Draco, on the other hand, looked as regal and condescending as ever, acting as if the two opposite him were not worth his time.
Harry frowned. He didn't know how friendships worked in Slytherin, but from what he'd seen in Malfoy Manor, those two had cared for Draco in a way that friends cared for each other, but Blaise, at least, had betrayed whatever ties he'd had with Draco. Pansy hadn't done that as far as Harry had seen. Yet she acted just as Blaise did, ashamed of her own actions.
Draco nodded only to Crabbe and Goyle as he left the table, walking towards the dungeons. They began to load food onto their plates as if they had just discovered what lay on the table, and Pansy whispered something in Blaise's ear.
"Harry?" Ron's voice redirected Harry to the Gryffindor side of the room. "You're being rather obvious," he muttered under his breath, and Harry looked down the table to see most of the Gryffindors looking at him and whispering to each other.
Just great. They were probably wondering if there was any connection from that article to his behavior. At least no one had made a scene yet.
Movement caught Harry's eye and he hastily stood as Blaise left the Great Hall.
"Harry?" Hermione asked. "You haven't touched your breakfast."
"I'll see you in class," Harry said hurriedly and left the room.
"Malfoy," Ron mouthed and Hermione nodded, returning to the parchment in front of her. Ron watched for the next few minutes as she wrote franticly, crossed things out, and scribbled notes around other scribbles.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked finally, scooting closer so he could see over her shoulder.
"I'm plotting. What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Scribbling on a piece of parchment."
Hermione gave him a look that showed she was not amused. Ron shrugged and returned to his breakfast. "Just tell me what you come up with so I can help this time."
Harry managed to cut Blaise off in the hallway before the Medusa portrait.
"Get out of my way Potter."
"I don't think I will."
"I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."
"I don't think Draco's in the mood to deal with you right now."
Blaise's eyes took on an appraising look, like a cat eyeing a canary. "Well, well, it seems as if rumors are true for once, Potter. Don't you think it's strange that you're using Draco's first name so casually? I don't recall you doing so in previous years."
Harry refused to be baited. "I really don't care what you recall or not. I think you must have a class to get to, Zabini. Why don't you go there?"
Blaise's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to Harry. Harry didn't move.
"I've got one thing to say to you, Potter. I've known Draco since I was four. You can't say the same. I'm watching you Potter, and you'd better not hurt him. 'Cause if you do, I'll string you up before the Dark Lord faster than you could draw your wand."
"Strange, and here I thought it was only Draco you'd betray to the Dark Lord. Guess I was wrong."
Blaise's face twisted in fury and his mouth opened to speak only to be cut off by a calm and icy voice.
"I think you should leave now, Blaise."
Draco stood off to one side as if he'd been watching the scene unfold before him. Blaise's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. He nodded once to Draco, glared at Harry, and walked back up the corridor.
"You didn't have to do that. I could have taken care of him," Draco said softly as Blaise rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
"I'm a Gryffindor remember?" Harry grinned lopsidedly at the blond. "I do weird things like try to protect those I care about."
Draco swirled his pumpkin juice in his right hand as he waited for Crabbe and Goyle to finish their narrative of how they'd beaten on some first year Hufflepuff that afternoon, nodding absently in their direction to show he was paying attention. His eyes scanned the room, meeting a few cautious looks that were sent his way. Blaise's comment to Harry had been accurate after all. Talk had been spreading. Why would it not, after all?
He hid a smirk behind his goblet as he took a sip. They were much more subdued than the last time Harry's "love life" had come to the front page of the paper. Of course, the fact that he was a boy probably made people less likely to believe it. It just sounded more far-fetched than what Skeeter had thrown at Harry before. Of course, the last time she'd been attacking Harry, he'd been helping. But he was surprised that he hadn't received any Howlers… or angry letters if not Howlers. It just went to show how much power the Malfoy name really had.
"Oi! Malfoy!"
Draco turned slightly to look at the seventh year Slytherin that had called his name down the Slytherin table, interrupting Crabbe's explanation of how they'd chucked the first year (stunned and growing fingernails in strange places) into a tickle-me-silly-rose-bush. All conversation stopped as he locked gazes with the other boy.
"When you're done with Potter tonight, why don't you come down to the seventh year dorms!"
Across the hall at the Gryffindor table, Harry stood abruptly, looking murderous. And if looks could kill, the seventh year would have died purely from the look Snape sent at him from the staff table.
Draco however, stared at the boy unblinking. In a cocky salute, the boy lifted his goblet in a toast to Draco. Draco blinked. The goblet shattered, pumpkin juice flying everywhere, the sharp pieces of the cup attempting to embed themselves in the soft flesh of his face and neck.
"I don't think you could keep up with me" Draco's calm voice seemed to echo down the Slytherin table, just loud enough so that the now-bleeding boy could hear the words, but not the rest of the hall.
"Mr. Goldstien" Snape's voice promised many unpleasant things as he appeared at the Slytherin's elbow. "We need to discuss your code of behavior. In my office. Now. Apparently, a three day suspension was not enough to curb your rule breaking streak." Snape looked down the table at the other Slytherins, his eyes stopping at every one that had just returned that day from the suspension. "Does anyone share Mr. Goldstien's sentiments? I'm sure he would be happy to have your company."
"I don't think I've ever seen Snape talk to Slytherins that way!" Ron whistled in appreciation. "I mean, he's still a greasy git, but that was really something!"
Hermione hid a smile behind her book at Ron admiring Snape. Harry though, looked as if he almost didn't hear Ron, staring into the fireplace that lit the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione frowned as she looked at his sullen eyes which flickered in the firelight.
"Harry?" He looked up as if he had nothing better to do at that moment other than stare into the flames. "Are you feeling alright?"
"He's just as shocked as I am that Snape started beating on Slytherins!" Ron broke in cheerfully and Harry nodded to his friend's statement, a false smile on his lips.
"Are you thinking about the funeral?" Hermione saw through his smile instantly.
"No. I'm not." And he wasn't.
"If I were him, I'd be thinking about the trial, 'Mione," Ron interjected before Hermione could continue questioning Harry.
"What do you mean? Malfoy's dad left everything to him, so all he has to do is prove that and he gets his inheritance," Hermione pointed out logically.
"The only one I can think of who could bring Malfoy's inheritance into question is his mother. That won't work against his own mother, Hermione. And she's got Malfoy's age on her side, too." He leaned in eagerly as he came to his conclusion. "Before, Malfoy's dad used to sway the Ministry purely with money. But Malfoy doesn't have all that money right now, since that's what they're going to court about!"
Hermione looked stunned. Ron had obviously done some serious thinking on the situation. Harry, looking back at the fireplace, commented on how Ron seemed to have thought the entire scenario through.
"Well," Ron looked sheepish. "I told Malfoy he was eventually going to get what was coming to him and, no offence Harry, but I think this is when he's finally going to get it."
"None taken." Harry managed a smile at his friend. "But," he thought as he turned their conversation to other topics, "I'm going to help make sure that won't happen."
Draco was lounging on the sofa, having stopped his Transfiguration work "only for a minute to rest his eyes". He only realized he'd been dozing for half an hour when he was shaken out of his stupor by the portrait door closing as entered the room.
"So how are things on the Gryffindor side of the school?" Draco drawled as he again looked at the Transfiguration essay he had to write.
Harry looked surprised that Draco had asked such a question. "Er – fine I guess."
"I wasn't actually interested," Draco replied pointedly as Harry plopped into the armchair facing the sofa.
The Gryffindor shrugged carelessly. "So then, how are things at the Slytherin end of the school?"
"I wouldn't know. You'd have to go to the Slytherin Common Room to find that out."
Harry grinned lopsidedly. "Yes, I was planning on doing that but I thought I'd check with you first to see if you knew and save me the trip by telling me."
"Sarcasm does not suit you, Harry."
"If you say so."
"I do."
A pause. "So when is your appearance in court?"
Draco hid his surprise as Harry waited for an answer. "Monday."
"Monday? That soon after the funeral?"
"Of course. You're not thinking like a Slytherin, Harry. If Narcissa had requested Friday, I could then say that the funeral was on Friday and move it to a date of my choice, whatever was convenient enough for me. Saturday or Sunday would be convenient for me and therefore are out of the question. But since I already miss Friday's classes, it's only more inconvenient for me to miss Monday's as well. Anything to throw off your opponent, Harry. You'd be surprised how the little things can undermine people."
"So who's going to be there?"
"Myself, my godfather, my mother, Archeon as holder of my father's will, and the Wizengamot."
"What if I wanted to come?" Harry's voice sounded as if he didn't care whether he went or not, but Draco wasn't fooled.
"You're already coming to the funeral, Potter Don't push it."
"Why can't I come?"
"You're not involved."
Harry bit his lip for a second, as if weighing some decision in his mind. "I could be," he whispered.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly as Harry refused to meet his gaze. "What are you getting at?"
"Look, correct me if I'm wrong, but it's your word against the person the world sees as your mother. She says you should not inherit and you say that you should." Harry paused and fumbled for words. "Your… your dad's not there anymore to make sure the outcome is what you want." Draco caught the double implications of Harry's words. Harry was dancing around the subject of bribery, an option that was not open to Draco. "I don't know what kind of sway Narcissa Black holds, but in the worst case scenario she would be equal to what your father used to hold. Even without that, she's got wizarding law on her side because you're not legal yet and she is."
Draco sighed. He already had thought through this vicious circle of logic himself. "Harry, come to the point."
"If I came as your fiancé, then you would be legal and there would be nothing they could do to stop your inheritance seeing as the whole problem arose because you aren't a legal adult yet."
There. He'd said it. Harry waited for Draco's response. But there wasn't one. The seconds seemed to stretch into lifetimes as Draco sat silent, his eyes looking down at his Transfiguration text book without seeing the printed words.
The blond shuddered as he breathed out slowly and spoke, his voice sounding dead to Harry's ears. "That is not an option. I will not allow something as trivial as legality to influence something like that." Gathering his books, Draco stood and headed towards the bedroom, pausing at Harry's words.
"At least we agree on that. If I were to say any vows, they would be real."