Chapter 32

Draco paced back and forth across Malfoy Manor's floo room as he waited for Hermione to arrive via her locket portkey. It was the first full day of the Christmas holidays and they'd returned home, where they could visit each other at their leisure, rather than remain at Hogwarts and attend a ball where they'd only be able to sneak glances at each other from across the room. Draco had never been so relieved to board the Hogwarts Express. When Hermione finally appeared in front of him, he didn't hesitate to haul her into his arms and kiss her soundly.

"I missed you," he breathed between kisses.

"I missed you too," she responded and the way she held him so tightly was a reassurance he hadn't known he'd needed.

He hadn't spent more than a handful of minutes with her in at least a week. The sensation of dainty fingers tunneling their way through his hair had him kissing her again - he loved that feeling.

"Your parents," she reminded him.

"Are very well aware of your arrival and are giving us privacy. As it turns out, they actually do trust us. I think they're making a point of it, actually."

"Draco," she continued to rake her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He leaned into her hand, it had been too long since he'd felt her touch.

In the wake of the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament Hermione's moments of free time had been few and far between. He knew that Potter had no idea that he'd been keeping them apart, and he tried not to resent him for it, but he did.

Draco put that out of his mind as he held his girlfriend. "Two weeks!" He said gleefully, "I get you all to myself for two weeks!" As a guest of the school Claire had been obliged to stay at Hogwarts, so for the first time since the summer it would be just the two of them.

"I'll have to spend a little time at Potter House near the end of the holidays," she corrected.

He groaned and pulled away to pout at her.

"I know," she said, tracing his face with one hand, he leaned into her. "But Harry keeps asking me when he can meet Leo and I keep putting him off and lying to him and I just feel so badly about it. And he wanted to spend the holidays with his family which he considers me to be a part of, I can't begrudge him a couple of days."

"I thought you told him you were going to America to visit Leo," he practically growled the name- he hadn't warmed to it at all.

"Well that's the other thing, it's not very believable that I would be gone for literally every single day of the holidays, and I think he's getting suspicious that I'm keeping something from him already."

"Okay, okay," he relented. "But I still can't believe he left Hogwarts in the first place."

"He's never had a home to go home to for the holidays, can you honestly blame him? I know that you look forward to Yule every year, and you've always had a wonderful home and family. A quiet couple of weeks with Sirius sounds a lot better to me than spending that time in a castle full of people who have nothing better to do than stare and giggle and whisper about him."

The first task had only raised the myth that was 'Harry Potter' to new heights. Draco could admit it had been an impressive performance, particularly his ability to conjure a patronus that not only took clear form but was also strong enough to send a message, whilst standing in front of hundreds of spectators and a five ton beast that had the ability to roast him alive at only fourteen years old. It had put to rest any doubt that he was an extremely powerful wizard, and more precisely, that he had the ability to harness that power.

"And it didn't help that the only witch he was truly interested in taking to the ball still thinks of him as a little kid."

She nudged him playfully and Draco stifled a groan. Potter's crush on Claire was understandable. She was smart, funny, beautiful; what wasn't to like? And Potter had earned Draco's respect over the past few months, but the fact was that nobody was ever going to be good enough for Claire and he was relieved that she'd asked Hermione to make it clear to Potter that she didn't see him like that.

"How did you break that to him, by the way?"

"I told him the truth: she has a cousin his age who she considers to be like a little brother and it just makes her feel like she's too old for him. I made sure he knew it wasn't personal, because it's not. It was awkward for a few days but they're friends again."

"Yeah I noticed," he said wryly. Still mostly on the outs with Weasley, Potter stuck to Hermione like white on rice- which was why he hadn't seen her in so long- and Claire could often be seen hanging out with them. "And speaking of somebody being too old for somebody else, Krum is too old for you."

She sighed. "First of all, even if he was interested you know very well that I'm not. I'm very happy with the wizard I have," she hugged him around the waist. "Second, he's harmless, stop worrying about him."

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

She barked out a laugh. "Wow, you sound exactly like Harry. Who, by the way, has appointed himself my bodyguard and I think even Viktor Krum is intimidated by Harry at this point, so you have nothing to worry about."

"Fine, I'll try not to," he sighed dramatically.

She went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I should go say hello to your parents, it's been months since I've seen them."

"Alright, you're right, I know they're anxious to see you too." He threw an arm around her shoulders and led her from the room. "So, Mother told me something last night."

"Why does that sound so ominous?"

"My grandmother is coming to town."

"Okay, what's unusual about that? Your grandmother usually comes to spend the holidays in England."

"No, Hermione, I didn't misspeak, not my grandmère, my grandmother," he clarified.

She reared back, eyes wide and just stared at him.

Draco wasn't surprised that Hermione was surprised, even he had been shocked when his mother mentioned the previous evening over dinner that Grandmother Black was coming to spend Yule with them. The woman hadn't set foot in Britain in years. Hermione had probably heard mention of her less than a handful of times. His mother went to visit her occasionally, but Draco was under the impression it was only a sense of duty that drove her to do so; they certainly weren't close and he couldn't imagine why she would leave her comfortable villa in Italy to come visit them. But then his mother had explained that she'd finally told her about Hermione, that a betrothal was imminent, and then Draco had understood. She was coming to inspect his girlfriend. Which wasn't something he knew how to explain to said girlfriend.

"Hello Dear!" His mother's voice came from behind them.

He turned around to see his parents approaching them and bit back a laugh. They'd been giving them privacy to greet each other, but they'd definitely also been hovering, anxious to see Hermione.

"Narcissa!" Hermione exclaimed, ducking out from under his arm to go embrace the woman. They exchanged cheek kisses and then she turned to his father and threw her arms around his waist, his eyes widened slightly and Draco bit back another laugh as he wondered if the man would ever stop looking surprised when she did that.

"Draco was just telling me that his grandmother is coming for a visit." His parents exchanged a look and Hermione noticed it as well. She glanced between them, her smile falling. "Why is everybody being so shifty about this?"

His mother took her arm and began to lead them away, he and his father trailed after them.

"My mother is very traditional," she said gently.

"Which is your way of saying that she won't approve of me," Hermione surmised after a moment.

"Don't worry, you're part of this family, no matter what. My mother's opinion is outdated and immaterial. But she remains my mother, and I don't feel right denying her the right to at least meet you."

Draco disagreed. As he remembered her, his grandmother was a nightmare and he didn't want her anywhere near Hermione. Not that he didn't think she could handle her, but why should she have to? It irked him, there should be some way in which he was able to protect his witch, right? And yet he had to sit in the back and keep quiet.

"It's alright," Hermione said softly, "I'm used to it."

His mother brought her to a halt and he and his father stopped walking behind them, but nobody spoke. The silence was thick and he could see that both of his parents were trying to come up with an appropriate response.

"I didn't mean it like that," she pleaded, obviously realizing what she'd said, and to whom.

"And yet you have every reason to feel as such, Mignonette," his father answered, his voice as gentle as Draco had ever heard it.

"It's okay," Hermione reiterated.

"It's really not," Draco cut in, no longer willing to hold his tongue. It was bad enough that his family had ever thought badly of Hermione, but he couldn't allow her to just downplay the situation, which he knew was actually deeply hurtful to her.

"Draco," she said, looking back at him pleadingly.

He just shook his head, "it's not okay that anybody thinks like that and it's certainly not okay that my own grandmother does." He was rapidly growing tired of the world he'd been raised in. Sure, he continued to value many of their traditions, and he wanted to do right by his family, but the thought of his Grandmother Black anywhere near Hermione made him feel more than a little sick. She looked back and forth between him and his parents and he had a terrible premonition that she was about to do something without really thinking it through.

"Sirius wants to make Draco, Lord Black when he comes of age."

His mother let out a gasping sound that was as close to a squeal of delight as he'd ever heard from her. His father went still at his side.

His mother rushed towards him and enveloped him in a hug. "Oh my sweet boy, I'm so proud of you!"

"Mother," he huffed, "I haven't done anything. I'm the only one left, there is literally nobody else he could pass it on to."

"But he doesn't have to turn it over at all. And he wouldn't if he didn't trust and respect you."

"It's because of Hermione," he argued.

"No," Hermione argued in return. "I told you Draco, he made a point to tell me that he thought you were turning into a good man and that you would bring honor to House Black."

"Hermione," he sighed. "I thought we were going to talk about this some more before we mentioned anything to anyone."

She'd come to him, shortly after the first task and relayed Sirius' question about turning over House Black to him when he was of age and the war was over. And while he actually was flattered, his immediate concern was for Hermione. They'd talked it in circles since then but hadn't come to any firm decision.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You and Sirius both said that it was up to me."

"I didn't think that you had decided, though. And you don't have to do this in some sort of attempt to impress my grandmother."

She was unable to completely suppress her wince and he knew that he had her. She hadn't actually come to a decision on her own, she just knew that the news would appease a pureblood traditionalist like Grandmother Black and was prepared to sacrifice her own comfort to smooth things over. She could be such a bloody Gryffindor.

He looked at his parents. "So we're still talking it over, not a word to anybody else." His mother appeared slightly disappointed but his father eyed him and then gave him a nod of respect, and carefully cupped Hermione's face.

"He's right," he told her softly. "That's a major burden you would be taking on, I didn't truly understand that myself until very recently," he explained, eyes soft and full of meaning as he approached his mother and gently led her away.

Draco put an arm around Hermione's waist and she didn't resist when he steered her to follow them to the Breakfast Room.

His Grandmother Black arrived at Malfoy Manor in a grand manner two days later. She'd taken a ship from Italy, claiming that international portkey travel was too trying. So, by the time she arrived his grandmère was already in residence for the remainder of the holidays. His mother took a carriage to retrieve her from the port and as soon as she stepped into the Entrance Hall she looked around, took in her surroundings with a sniff and then regarded Grandmère.

"Oh, you're still here."

"Well, this is Malfoy Manor and I am a Malfoy."

"Your husband is dead," Grandmother responded flatly

"Yes, thank you, I remember, I was there."

"Druella, I have the deepest respect for you," his father drawled, sounding like he had anything but the deepest respect for her, "but my mother will always have a place here as long as I am Head of House Malfoy and I resent you implying otherwise."

"Me as well, Grandmother," Draco chimed in, squaring his chin against the woman who looked so much like his mother that it almost hurt.

She acted like she hadn't heard him. "Draco! Hello darling!"

He cringed at the reminder of how much he hated to be called 'darling,' and why it especially bothered him when his mother did it. There was no real affection in his grandmother's voice or manner, because she didn't really love him. He was a prized stallion she felt like she could metaphorically trot out and show off when it suited her- her sole male grandchild and heir of House Black, if only Sirius would conveniently die. It made him ill.

He could feel Hermione's magic crackle in irritation at the entire exchange - he knew that she was actually quite fond of Grandmère and was feeling insulted on her behalf.

He took a deep breath and prepared to play his part. He gently brought Hermione forward with a hand to her elbow. "Grandmother, may I present my…" he trailed off as he realized that he had no idea what to call Hermione, and they stupidly hadn't discussed it. 'Girlfriend' would be a meaningless term to his grandmother.

"I'm Hermione Granger, Draco's betrothed, Mrs. Black," she rescued him, with a slight curtsey in deference to her as an elder as well as her relationship to him.

Draco's heart softened. Betrothed. He cut his eyes in her direction and she smiled at him.

His grandmother looked Hermione up and down. "Well her hips are acceptable and the hair can be managed." She turned back towards his mother, "but what kind of name is 'Granger?'"

Draco's eyes went wide and he grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it, hoping to relay his horror as well as a thorough apology for her words, along with his support for what he was certain was about to come.

And, sure enough, she was decidedly unhappy to find that Hermione was a muggleborn, he clenched his free hand into a fist at his side to keep from responding as she ranted about the integrity of their bloodline. He wouldn't do his mother the disrespect of insulting a guest invited into their home- much less her own mother.

Hermione just stood stoically at his side and when his grandmother was through, in what he was beginning to recognize to be a surreal display of pureblood stiff-upper-lipped-ness they continued onto dinner as if nothing had happened. And, as was happening increasingly frequently, he resented his upbringing. The Grangers would have whisked them away from this awful situation- no, they would never have put them in it in the first place.

But the conversation devolved into small talk and Draco thought that things were going to be okay when his grandmother decided to make her opinions known again.

"Narcissa, do you honestly approve of this situation?" She gestured between himself and Hermione. "I suppose it's understandable if the boy wants to have some fun before he settles down, but this is not the kind of woman that you marry."

Draco let out a long breath and willed his magic to settle.

"Hermione is a light in our lives," his mother responded with dignity. "I couldn't ask for anyone better for Draco."

"And you?" She turned to his father, "has your House fallen so far since the death of your father?"

The mood in the room turned glacial.

"I choose to run this House differently than my father did."

His grandmother snorted. "Obviously, Abraxas would never have abided such an abomination."

Draco wasn't certain what he expected, but what happened next left him flabbergasted and pinching himself for days.

"Oh, and you're an expert in what Abraxas wanted. Or perhaps you just wish that you had been?" Grandmère drawled in her slight accent.

Draco blindly grasped for Hermione's hand. He didn't know what was happening here, but it felt cataclysmic. He watched as his grandmère drained her wine glass and tightened his hold on around Hermione's fingers.

"I knew Abraxas since we were children."

"And yet that didn't do you much good," she responded with a smirk. "Regardless, you are overstepping your bounds, watch how to talk to my son."

His grandmother sniffed and straightened her spine, attempting to look dignified, but her pinched expression ruined it. "Well, I will not be spoken to like this, and if this is how you are running your house, I will not be returning," she glared at Lucius and then she strode from the room.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Mother," Lucius eventually said, "what was that?"

"I did not care for the disrespect she showed you in your own home. Especially given that as you are the only son-in-law that has neither been repudiated nor sent to Azkaban, she is most certainly living off of your generosity. For as much as Cygnus might have doted on her in life he was not the kind of man who would have made provisions for her in death, she was a mere trophy to him."

Draco saw his father hesitate, but then his curiosity obviously won out and Draco remained as quiet as possible lest he be remembered and sent away.

"There was something more to it than that, if I do beg your pardon, Mother."

"Are you certain you want to know the answer to that, Son?" She asked as she watched an elf refill her wine glass and Draco tried to recall a time where he's seen his grandmère drink more than one glass in a sitting.

"Yes, I believe so."

She took another sip of wine. "Let us just say that she would have prefered to have been Abraxas' trophy and she cannot forgive me for winning that particular contest- or so she sees it. So she resents your," she dipped her head in her son's direction, "very existence. And I suppose she is probably very conflicted between pride and resentment that Narcissa succeeded where she did not."

The room was silent as they absorbed this information, Hermione's hand shook in his, or perhaps it was he who was shaking.

"Is that why they never came here when Father was alive?"

She laughed, but it was bitter. "Oh Lucius, surely you've realized by now that your father cared nothing for my feelings. Not that I would have been bothered. No, they never came here when Cygnus was alive. He was well aware that he was, at best, Druella's second choice and didn't appreciate being reminded of that." She turned to his mother, "please do not think that I mean any disrespect to you my dear, when I say these things. I'm aware that I have not been the most doting mother-in-law, but I was afraid if I appeared too fond of you it would bring scrutiny into your relationship that I didn't wish for you to endure. I will forever be grateful to you for the kind of wife and mother you have been to my son and grandson." She cracked a smile then. "And for the laugh I got the summer Lucius returned home and informed us that he intended to court you. And the irony is," she added, now she was actually chuckling, "had Druella not driven one child to madness and another to run away from home, I'm fairly certain that out of some kind of delayed spite Cygnus would never have approved the match, but she had so ruined your prospects, he didn't have a choice. All the better for House Malfoy," she raised her glass in a salute, did a double take when she realized it was empty, and held it out for yet another refill.

There was another heavy silence until his mother managed a quiet: "Thank you Anneliese."

"Lucius, please do stop looking at me like you've never seen me before. I simply find being a widow very freeing and thought it time some truths were spoken."

"I just did not know that you felt that way."

She arched an eyebrow at him, and Draco had never seen such a resemblance between the two of them before. "What, you didn't think that I appreciated Narcissa? I said that your intention to court her amused me, and it did. But that was only at first, as soon as you brought her to meet us properly, I knew that she would be the best thing to ever happen to you. Mother's know these things," she looked pointedly between his mother and Hermione, "and I did everything I could to ensure that you could have her."

His father just stared at her for the longest time, before he took his mother's hand and brought it to his lips. Grandmere smiled. "You don't have to hide that from me, you know, it's a sign of strength not weakness. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you myself, especially, well when it came to," she paused, looked down, clearly ashamed, and briefly closed her eyes, "That Man." And Draco was suddenly certain she was no longer talking about his grandfather. "I know you'll do better for your own son." She then got up and made her way around the table to kiss each of their cheeks and, in contrast to his grandmother earlier, made her way out of the room with actual dignity.

The four of them just stared at each other in silent disbelief.

Later, after Draco had apologized so profusely for the way she had been treated that Hermione actually begged him to stop, they were laying in their window seat discussing their betrothal contract. Draco hadn't realized how much it had been bothering him that they hadn't formalized things until earlier when Hermione had told his grandmother that they were betrothed. He knew contracts weren't a tradition Hermione had grown up with and her comfort was paramount, so he'd been trying not to dwell on it. But the fact was that he'd always expected to enter into one and it didn't feel quite real to him without one. Hermione was excitedly explaining to him some of the rituals she'd read about to seal the contract when his grandmère entered the corridor and made her way over to them.

"Grandmère," he greeted, pulling Hermione into a sitting position as he did so, but then he frowned and checked the slim watch on her wrist. It was late, already almost Hermione's curfew, his grandmère normally would have been in bed long before now. "Is something wrong?"

She cringed as she settled herself next to them. "Your mother and father sent me to sit with the two of you while they deal with Druella."

"Deal with her?" Hermione squeaked.

She reached over and patted the younger witch's knee. "I apologize if my earlier words played any part in goading her into this. Jema came and reported to Lucius that she attempted to order the kitchen elves to poison Hermione."

There was a beat of silence followed by a rushing in Draco's ears, and then all of a sudden his arms were full of Hermione, but when she said his name it sounded like it was coming from very far away. And then he felt her magic. Usually a comforting presence, this was more commanding, an attempt to force his own magic into submission. It obeyed immediately.

He opened his eyes to meet hers. "Better?" She asked rubbing soothing hands over his cheeks.

He nodded absently as he noticed a cool breeze at his back. He looked around and discovered why Hermione had reacted as she had. He'd blown out the window around them and every other one in that corridor. His eyes went wide and he began to run his hands up Hermione's legs and sides checking for injuries. "Are you hurt, Mia?"

She placed her hands over his, stilling them and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Do you think your magic would ever allow any harm to come to me? I just thought you'd probably regret it if you brought the Manor down around us. I know I'd miss the library in particular."

He gave her a squeeze of thanks for her attempt at levity.

"I do appreciate that as well, Mignonette," his father said and they both looked up in shock, having been completely wrapped up in each other they hadn't realized his parents had arrived on the scene. How long had he been in the magical stupor? Hermione tried to scoot off of his lap, but he was having none of it.

"Who's watching Grandmother and when will the aurors be here?" He asked, almost surprised by the commanding tone of his own voice, he had a million questions but those were the only two that seemed relevant at the moment.

His father was standing about six feet away, his mother on one arm, his grandmere on the other. His parents appeared concerned, but not angry, his mother in particular was very pale, but her eyes were red and swollen. Grandmere just looked shocked.

"The elves are guarding her, they're taking this all quite personally. Not just because they're so fond of Hermione but because she presumed they would even consider harming the next Lady Malfoy," his father responded. "As for the aurors, they aren't coming."

He bristled and opened his mouth to respond.

"Draco," Hermione interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper, "we can't call the aurors, you know that."

"Why the hell not?!" He hissed.

"How would we explain this?" She gestured to the miniscule space between them. "And then there's the fact that I don't think she's actually committed a crime, not yet at least, and I'd prefer if we not let her go through with the poisoning."

He glared at her for her blase attitude, but also because he realized that she was right. He frowned and tried to think of a solution he could live with.

He looked towards his parents. "I want her out of this house and Hermione will never be forced into her company again." His tone brokered no argument and part of him braced himself to be reprimanded, but the rest of him didn't care.

"It will be taken care of Draco," his father answered simply. "Come, ladies, let's give them some space." His mother rushed forward and embraced them both quickly, murmuring her apologies and her love for them both, and then the three adults beat a hasty retreat.

Draco cradled Hermione against his chest as a balm to soothe his oncoming despair. He couldn't keep her safe even in his own home, from his own relatives. How were they ever going to survive the approaching storm?

"It's okay," she whispered to him, over and over, "it's okay."

He really wished she'd stop saying that.

0000000000

"Cissa."

"Just a minute Lucius."

"Cissa."

"I said just a minute," she swatted a hand towards the sound of his voice like he was a fly.

A large hand appeared from over her shoulder and flipped the book she was reading shut. She spun around to face him.

"I was in the middle of something!" She snapped.

He just shot her an unimpressed look. "You're making the elves nervous."

"Come again?"

"You're making the elves nervous. Jema was actually waiting for me when I arrived home and asked me to come fetch you. She said you hadn't eaten. Have you left this room at all today?"

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond when she realized that since Lucius had been out on business, she'd simply had the elves bring her breakfast, lunch, and tea so that she could continue working.

"As I suspected," he chuckled, pulling up a chair and seating himself beside her and reaching over to take one of her hands in both of his, kissing her knuckles.

She smiled at him. "How did things go today?"

"As expected," but he was not to be diverted. "Narcissa, you cannot continue on like this, it's been non-stop since Draco and Hermione went back to Hogwarts."

"What choice do I have?"

"You are not responsible for your mother's actions and nobody blames you."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

He just arched an eyebrow incredulously and she sighed.

"I can't help but feel guilty, but I do know that it's not my fault. However, I feel like I owe Hermione and I think that I've had a breakthrough."

"In your research for the Potter boy?"

"Yes, it was something Helen said to me yesterday. It struck me when she said it, but I didn't know why until this morning."

Narcissa had never even properly met Harry Potter but Hermione loved him deeply. She'd witnessed the girl's guilt and sadness at having to lie to her friend, knew that it only got worse with each passing day. If they could just find a solution to the boy's connection with the Dark Lord they could allow Hermione to tell him her secrets. But more importantly, Narcissa couldn't imagine her devastation if he didn't survive, if they couldn't find a solution and Lucius had to- she couldn't even contemplate it.

And Sirius, her cousin was still a little unstable, and Merlin knew that he drove her up the wall of every room he walked into. But he was a good man and he'd been particularly good to Hermione. Narcissa didn't think he'd survive the loss of his godson.

And then there was Narcissa's own conscience. No, she couldn't slow down. Not now that she finally had an idea.

The past few months had been some of the longest of Narcissa's life. She needed some good news. The rest of the holidays had been surprisingly peaceful. At least as peaceful as things can be after uncovering an attempted murder plot in your own home, by your own mother.

Draco had kept Hermione even closer than usual whereas Hermione herself seemed to go out of her way to let them know that she wasn't angry and that she still felt at home at the Manor. They'd had a quiet Christmas, for the first time they shared Christmas day with the Grangers. There had a been a lot of family time spent reading or in quiet discussion and Narcissa was aware that they were lucky that two teenagers were so willing to spend so much time with their parents. By all outward appearances it had been an idyllic couple of weeks. But Narcissa had remained unsettled. So many things so far out of their control- and things they'd never even considered too, her mother's actions had underlined that. How would she ever feel truly comfortable again.

And then Helen had come to tea. Hermione's parents were adapting remarkably well to her life in the magical world and Helen in particular was trying to understand the world her daughter now resided in, and was anxious to do anything she could to help. So Narcissa had told her everything.

It had been an innocent comment. Helen had just been trying to understand the nature of the horcruxes when she'd noted that she couldn't understand how Harry could possibly be one given the protection his mother's sacrifice had gifted him.

Narcissa had demurred, not knowing the answer, but in her semi-conscious state as she'd come awake the next morning a thought had occurred to her: he couldn't possibly be a standard horcrux. Almost 100% of the time, according to those who knew him best, Harry retained his own thoughts, feelings and faculties. And if he had been a standard horcrux, the Dark Lord would have fully possessed him long ago. The soul fragment seemed to be literally confined to his scar, only seeping into Harry's consciousness when he was at his weakest- injured, asleep, or under some kind of mind altering spell or potion. The occlumency would hopefully help with that but it wasn't enough.

Still, it gave Narcissa hope. The horcrux and Harry weren't one and the same. It was trapped in a very small part of his body, with minimal attachment to him. She needed to do more research, but a fairly simple cleansing ritual might be all the push they needed to banish it. Especially if Sirius was the one to lead the rite. Given the oaths he would have taken as his godfather, upon James Potter's death, magically Sirius had become Harry's father. That, combined with the protection left by his mother which continued to run through his veins, the balance of masculine and feminine energy, mother and father, should be enough to overcome any hold that insidious piece of the Dark Lord had over the boy.

Or so she hoped. Oh how she hoped that it would work.

She turned back to Lucius. "I'll come down for dinner and I'll tell you my thoughts as we eat, but then I'm coming back to work."

He gave her a long measuring look. "Then I'll help."

Author's Note: First of all, I was absolutely blown away by the response to the last chapter, I can't thank y'all enough. Just when I think you can't get more wonderful you somehow manage it. Second, I'm sorry if this Harry is only sort of a horcrux thing is unsatisfactory, but in my opinion this is one of the biggest plot holes in the books and I'm dealing with it the best way I can. I know this is probably not the chapter you guys were expecting in any way, shape, or form but I hope you liked it and aren't to upset by the lack of Yule Ball. Thank you to my fantastic beta, Weestarmeggie. Guys she doesn't just edit, she's my sounding board, and for this chapter she listened for HOURS about Druella's backstory, so she's basically a saint. :)