--Dedicated in part to dairygirl, who inspired me on certain aspects of this chapter (Albus).

Chapter 11 – Friday, 18 October

Draco looked up from his reading when a blanket was placed over his lower legs. Raising an eyebrow, he merely watched as the navy cashmere was tucked in around his bare feet. Protesting would get him nowhere, after all; Harry really had some kind of fixation about keeping Draco warm. Watching Harry curl up on the opposite settee with another luxurious looking blanket, Draco decided to ask about it. The worst Harry could do was tell him to mind his own business.

"Harry?" Draco called.

"Yes?" Harry replied, looking up attentively. That tone of voice meant Draco wanted to start a conversation.

"Why are you so concerned about keeping me warm all the time?" Draco asked curiously. As Harry's body stiffened and his face closed off, Draco added hastily, "Were you cold during your own transition?"

Harry turned his face towards the fire and forced himself to relax before answering. "I was, yes, though that's not why, really." Pausing before deciding to plunge ahead, Draco knew about the Dursley's treatment, after all, he stated flatly, "I only had a single light blanket at the Dursley's. Rain or shine. High summer or mid-winter, it didn't matter. I had the one disintegrating blanket and was told to be glad for it. I also had very few clothes and an overcoat I wasn't allowed to take from the entryway coat rack. I piled what clothes I had around me but I was still almost always cold at night. I grew to hate the cold, though I can tolerate it better than most anyone."

Draco clenched his hands around his book and took a deep breath. His disgust at Harry's muggle relatives just kept growing by leaps and bounds. "Have you ever considered giving their address to the Dark Lord?" he asked, really quite serious.

Harry jerked in surprise and stared at Draco a moment before giving a short, sharp laugh. "I have, actually, though I'd never do it," Harry said with amusement.

"Why not? Surely if there were any muggles that deserve the Dark Lord's attention, it would be them?" Draco asked. He'd forward the address on himself if he could get hold of it…

"Maybe," Harry said and shrugged. "Really, though, I'd rather just forget they exist."

"You can't just leave it at that," Draco protested. "You deserve some decent vengeance, at the very least."

Harry's lips quirked as he watched Draco get worked up over the Dursley's. "What would you have me do? I'm not really into the whole torture bit."

"Well, you could subject them to something much, much worse than a simple torturous death from our current evil wizard," Draco said with such gleeful spite that Harry was shocked speechless for a moment.

Harry put aside his book and gazed at his companion suspiciously. "What?" Harry asked. He couldn't imagine what evil fate would put such a look upon Draco's face if it wasn't the rousing bouts of torture and death he'd been advocating previously.

Draco looked Harry over consideringly then gave a wicked grin and said, "It's perfect for the likes of those…things…you call relatives. We could have an absolutely grand time."

Intrigued, Harry nodded. He approved, in theory, of Dursley vengeance. "Sure. As long as we don't get caught."

"Caught?" Draco asked in mock affront. "Why, Harry, caught implies that we would be doing something less than appropriate and I assure you that we would be nothing less than completely civil." Draco shook his head sternly.

"Really," Harry drawled, more intrigued than ever.

"Of course," Draco assured haughtily. "We would simply be enjoying an afternoon tea with your former guardians. Reminiscing about your accomplishments at school, celebrating the recognition heaped upon you from all over Europe for the defeat of the most evilest Dark Lord of all time, because you are going to eliminate that bastard."

Harry blinked at Draco, not understanding at all why this simple plan would have Draco quivering in such obvious malicious delight.

"Of course, we'd have to dress for the occasion. It would be an insult, as I'm sure you'll agree, to dress in anything other than the finest of wizarding robes accented with highly visible and obviously expensive accessories. And that would certainly include your Lord's ring for the House of Potter and my Heir's ring for the House of Malfoy."

Harry's eyes widened as he began to get an idea of where this was going.

"We couldn't arrive in anything other than the best and most spacious horse-drawn carriage," Draco said. "And we'd have to arrive on a beautiful afternoon on a weekend so that the neighborhood will be sure to witness how important the Dursley's must be to be getting such august guests."

Harry started to grin.

"You must be certain to get their advice on where you should live. Merlin knows you will have such difficulties deciding upon which of your many manors you should live in. Maybe they could recommend an interior designer. Perhaps they could also recommend a good financial advisor for your accounts?" Draco tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Or, perhaps, a firm instead? Really, so much money invested in so many ways must surely warrant more than one individual's attention."

Harry lost control of his mirth and started to laugh. Oh, yes, he could do this!

"Of course, I shall be perfectly civil, all the while giving the impression that everything around me is just so splendidly quaint. Delightful, really, but I wouldn't surround myself with such commonness on a daily basis."

Harry gripped his stomach as he continued to laugh hard; the images Draco's words were inspiring were just too funny.

"Perhaps," Draco added with another wicked grin, "we could arrange to arrive on a day when they are entertaining a large group of people? I just love to mix and mingle and charm people, you know. I'm sure I could keep busy meeting all sorts of new and fascinating individuals while you reminisce and converse with your relatives. No need to worry about me." Draco waved a hand negligently.

Finished detailing his hastily created plan, Draco watched as Harry slowly calmed himself. Draco felt quite the sense of smug self-satisfaction over the reaction he'd been able to elicit from his bond-mate. Harry should laugh more often.

Eventually Harry silenced the last of his snickers and stood. Taking the few steps to Draco, he grinned and said, "Petunia always hosts at least one gathering every summer. I'm sure we can arrange to simply…drop in accidentally…on that particular day."

Draco grinned back unrepentantly.

Placing his knees on the settee, Harry leaned over Draco and whispered, "You really are a vicious monster, aren't you?"

Draco would have replied in the affirmative if his lips weren't busy. He'd have to think up more wicked schemes if this was the way Harry would react.


Draco carded his fingers through Harry's hair and let his mind wander. How would the students react? The teachers? Severus? He knew his godfather would be happy for him but he wasn't so sure how he would react to Harry. And Harry. What was going to happen in Harry's life? Would his friends accept their bond? Would his housemates? His other bond-mates? Harry had reassured him that the Weasley twins would be happy for them, but would they be, really? He was, after all, Draco Malfoy, son of the openly secret number one Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, and he was treading on their territory. How could they be happy about the situation?

"Ask," Harry said.

Draco jerked in surprise. "What?"

"I can feel your curiosity. Just ask," Harry said.

"Hmmm. All right," Draco agreed. "The question, however, is just which question I should ask."

"Whichever. Doesn't matter. You keep doing this and I'll answer anything you want," Harry said, referring to the fingers still stroking through his hair. He was boneless, here, draped over Draco on the settee they had slightly abused with their activities earlier.

Draco smiled at the utterly relaxed sound of Harry's voice. "All right. Question one: How come you didn't ask one or both of the Weasley twins to be your transition partner? You seem to have quite a good relationship with them and you had already partnered them."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to marry them," Harry answered drowsily.

Draco blinked and frowned. What? He thought about Harry's answer for a moment then his eyes widened in realization. "Ah. I understand. With the bond from their transition you were afraid that your transition would push it too deep, yes?"

"Yes. They want to bond and marry girls. It would be just my kind of luck that our bond would deepen too far and become exclusionary for all of us," Harry said.

"True enough; you do have the weirdest luck." Draco paused and ran his hand through Harry's hair a couple times. "I'm glad you didn't ask them, then," he admitted softly, "or else we wouldn't have been able to bond."

Harry merely made a vague sound of agreement and contentment.

"Ready for question two?" Draco asked. He'd have to pet Harry's head more often; he was just so cute like this.

"Mm-hmmm."

"What are you going to have me do for my Proving tomorrow?" Draco was a bit concerned about this. He'd like to practice somewhat, if he could.

"Secret," Harry said.

"But…"

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I'd never ask you to do something I wasn't absolutely positive you could handle," Harry said reassuringly.

Draco nodded. He knew that was true. Well, seemed like he'd simply have to trust in his Guardian's instincts about tomorrow. So be it. Hmmm…next question…

"How were you able to go gallivanting about on your summers without getting caught? I'd think that the Headmaster, and probably the Ministry, would have all sorts of trackers on you. I know father has some on me. Which…," Draco stopped and frowned a bit in thought. "We're under Founder's Wards here, right? That's why no one can find us?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "Useful."

"Oh, definitely," Draco agreed wholeheartedly. How could he disagree? The wards had allowed him his entire transition week with his chosen partner. "It still doesn't answer how you got away with traveling the world."

"Secret," Harry mumbled. "Ask Salazar."

Draco snorted. Oh, he'd ask Salazar for certain. He'd ask Salazar a lot of things. And while he was at it he'd make sure that Harry got permission to speak freely because that phrase was really annoying.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

Draco shook his head. "It's all right. But that painting and I are having a chat."

Harry made a sound somewhere between a chortle and a giggle but didn't say anything to Draco's bold assertion.

"Do I have to ask Salazar how you were able to go back and forth from your relatives and…wherever else you were playing that week?" Draco asked in annoyance.

"Apparated," Harry said, nuzzling his face into Draco's belly. All this talking was really disruptive to his lazy dozing, despite the fingers still combing through his hair.

Draco raised his eyebrows. Really, now? "And just how long have you been able to do that?"

"Salazar taught me during the last two months of my third year," Harry said. Really, he was going to be completely awake soon.

"Convenient," Draco said, impressed despite himself that Harry had managed to learn that skill at thirteen. Of course, Draco didn't have much he could say about it since he himself had learned to apparate just a few months later during summer holidays. "You can't have apparated, though, to, say, Australia."

"Apparated to France and took a portkey," Harry said.

"Every week?" Draco asked in disbelief. International portkeys were expensive.

"Yes," Harry said.

"More of that basilisk venom?" Draco asked in amusement.

Harry gave another short chortle/giggle. "Yes."

Draco continued his ministrations in silence for several minutes, sending Harry deeper into a relaxed state. He gave some thought to his most vexing question but, yet again, no answer came to him. He didn't think it would upset Harry; he'd only ever felt a sad neutrality when the topic came up. He stroked his fingers through Harry's hair a few more times and softly asked, "Why don't you hate Dumbledore?"

"Huh? Why would I?" Harry asked in confusion, his mind once again coming up from a doze.

"Well, I don't know, Harry," Draco replied scathingly. "Maybe because he left you with those…people? Maybe because he keeps sending you back to them? Maybe because he tried to steal your key? Maybe because he tried to control your transition not to mention your life? Take your pick."

"Hmmm. Well. S'complicated," Harry replied.

"It's still morning," Draco said.

"He's old," Harry mumbled.

Draco froze in surprise, only restarting his attentions to Harry head when the dark haired boy shifted and made a discontented sound. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked in disbelief.

"He's old. He's tired. He's frightened. Grindelwald hurt him," Harry said.

Draco was silent for several minutes. "Harry," he said softly, "I'm not putting any of this together. I don't understand what you're saying."

Harry sighed and dragged his consciousness up a couple levels. "He's an old man and tired. I think he'd like nothing better than to pass on except that there's nobody to take his place. Not here at the school and not against Voldemort. Sorry. So he stays and does his best. And one of the things he's trying to ensure is that the Dark Lord doesn't win."

Draco shook his head in confusion. "What does that have to do with the way he treats you?"

"He's frightened I'll turn to the Dark Lord," Harry said.

"What!" Draco exclaimed. "Why would he think that!" Shocked did not even begin to describe Draco's feeling about that ridiculous statement.

Harry groaned and pulled away from Draco and scooted to the opposite end of the settee. Settling the cashmere blanket over both their feet, Harry resigned himself to a likely argument. Draco watched, scowling.

"He doesn't think that," Harry said.

"You just told me…," Draco started.

"He's frightened I'll turn to him, or would have turned to him if he hadn't intervened and didn't keep an eye on me," Harry said.

Draco pursed his lips then said, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Draco…"

"It doesn't," Draco said flatly. "It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"You have…"

"I knew he was senile, but really, this is over the top," Draco ranted.

"Can you use a telephone?" Harry asked quickly before Draco could draw another breath to continue.

Draco snapped his mouth shut at the non sequitur. "What?" he said, confused.

"It's a simple question," Harry said. "Can you use a telephone? I bet not. Take the proper bus to get to a cinema or grocers? Live in a muggle house? No, of course not. Without access to magic and the wizarding world you'd probably be dead in a month."

Draco kicked Harry's shin furiously. "Fuck you, Potter! I would not!"

Harry yelped and pulled his legs away from a now fuming Draco. Harry looked at his grossly offended bond-mate in trepidation; he'd obviously stepped on something.

"For you information," Draco began angrily, "I am perfectly capable of comporting myself properly amongst muggles. I know how to use a phone and a phone book. I am familiar with and have used various modes of muggle transportation. I have lived in a muggle house for two months without using magic and survived unscathed."

Oh, now Harry understood. Obviously some of Draco's education had been not-so-standard for a pureblood of high station. And if there was one thing he knew about Draco even before this week it was that he took great offense if someone insulted his intelligence. Harry was really in for it.

"I know perfectly well how to use muggle money and how to do household shopping. I know how to dress without looking like some fashion-challenged idiot. I've watched television and can change the channels. I even know how to cook! I can use a stove and a blender and a toaster and a microwave, for Merlin's sake! I am not some ignorant rube!" Draco loudly continued his rant.

Harry winced. Oh, yes, he'd stepped in it all right. Draco was mad. "I'm sorry," he said and meant it. He really hadn't meant to insult Draco.

"I don't take Muggle Studies because I don't need it, not because of some ill-begotten prejudices held by my father!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry said again. He hurriedly continued when he saw Draco draw in another breath, "I didn't mean to offend you, I swear. Most purebloods don't know any of that. Same thing for the half-bloods that are raised in wizarding culture. That was the point I was trying to make. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry. All right? I'm sorry. Please, let me explain?"

Draco glared balefully at Harry but remained quiet, still fuming.

Harry realized he was still in a bit of hot water but felt encouraged by Draco's silence. Running a hand through his hair, he decided to approach his explanation from a slightly different angle. "You were asking me about the Headmaster and why I don't hate him. It's because I understand his actions for the most part." Sighing in frustration, he asked, "Look. Do you think that the wizarding and muggle worlds should be integrated? That muggles should be told about us?"

"No!" Draco blurted out, horrified. "They'd destroy us!"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes, probably. Not right away, likely, and not outright. A lot of them would be fine with us and try to work together to make a better world. But there are always the extremists and opportunists. And because the muggles are so much more numerous than us, their extremists and opportunists outweigh our entire population. Wizards and witches would be kidnapped and made into slaves, or experimented on, or tortured, or whatever. Only the lucky ones would be killed outright. Eventually, the remaining populace would have to go into even deeper hiding than we are in right now."

"Yes, so?" Draco said defiantly.

"So," Harry said, "there's a really good reason for wizard-kind to be wary of muggles. That wariness, with just a few negative incidents, can easily turn to fear, to resentment, to anger, to hate. Yes?"

Draco nodded. "And?"

"And what if I'd been raised here?" Harry asked.

"Then you wouldn't have been abused by those vile creatures and wouldn't…" Draco started only to be interrupted.

"Maybe I would hate muggles," Harry said.

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Just think about it. Here I am, all rich and famous, living blithely amongst magic and all my adoring fans that will do anything for me. A few bad experience here, several rude muggles there, a bit of ignorance and lots of cultural prejudice, and presto, one muggle-hating wizard at your service."

Draco stilled then nodded reluctantly. "Maybe," he said.

"Why, I just might have up and said "Yes, sir, Mister Dark Lord, sir, I hate muggles, too. Can I join you and get that pretty tattoo and help wipe them out? Thank you, sir, you're so wonderful." Can't you see that happening? At all? It's really not that far-fetched of an idea," Harry said earnestly.

Draco nodded again. "Maybe."

"And then what would happen?" Harry asked seriously.

Draco looked at Harry gravely. "There would have been no stopping the two of you."

Harry nodded. "Yes. At least, not very easily. And in our rampage we would have announced our presence to the muggles and the muggles, in defense, would have declared war against us. How is this a good outcome? For anyone?"

"So he placed you with muggles so you didn't travel that path," Draco said. Yes, he could see that logic. But to place Harry with muggles like that?

"Yes. And I think he lets Snape harass me so I know not everyone loves me. And, like I said, I think he tried to keep my key so I didn't start buying my way through life." Harry stopped a moment and grimaced. "And, as much as it pains me to admit it, I think he really did have good intentions when he arranged for me to transition with Shacklebolt. My guess is that he wanted me to have a mentor that was firmly on the side of light and could keep me from falling to the temptations of power."

"That doesn't explain why he sent you to them," Draco protested. "If anything, it would encourage you to hate all muggles."

"It does if he believes they love me," Harry countered.

"How can he possibly believe that?" Draco burst out. "Those people are rabid! They should be put out of everyone else's misery!"

"Draco," Harry groaned.

"No," Draco said. "I want to know why you don't hate him for sending you to those beasts."

"You're insulting beasts everywhere," Harry said.

"Don't evade the subject," Draco said sternly. "Tell me."

Harry ruffled his hair and gazed at Draco thoughtfully. Eventually, Harry came to the conclusion that it would probably actually be a good thing if Draco understood Harry's thoughts about the Headmaster a bit more. He propped an elbow on the back of the settee and rested his chin on his fist. "All right. Let me just give the caveat that I don't know any of this for certain; it's just what I think might have happened, what might be going on."

"Fine," Draco said shortly, rearranging the disheveled blanket over both their bare feet.

"Everyone knows Dumbledore killed Grindelwald. But what else do they know about that incident? What else do you know?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked warily. "Dumbledore hunted down Grindelwald and killed him. While I admit the spells used in their duel would be interesting to know, they really aren't that important."

Harry shrugged. "True. Did you know that Grindelwald had children?" he asked.

"He did? No, I didn't know. But what has…"

"Twin girls age sixteen and a little boy who was only five," Harry said.

"Harry," Draco whined, rubbing his temples.

"They were found dead in the same room as Grindelwald. All three had been tortured to death and the girls had been raped." Draco was startled and Harry went on relentlessly. "Nobody knows by whom or at least nobody's said. It's been hypothesized that it might have been done by their father."

Draco looked sickened.

Harry paused, then continued softly. "Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore walked in on something. Something bad. Something really, really bad. And just couldn't handle it. I wonder if his mind repressed the memories, repressed them so deeply that they became sublimated into a blind world view that families are always loving towards their own. It would explain so much about his dealings with me and the Dursley's."

"That's awful, Harry," Draco said quietly.

"Yes," Harry said, "but it would explain so much. Sometimes…sometimes I get the impression that he really doesn't understand that the Dursley's are horrible. That he can't understand."

"But, the wards…" Draco protested weakly.

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, the wards are a sticky question. Then I think that maybe he didn't cast them and doesn't know when they are triggered. But then I wonder why he doesn't ask about their status. I don't know Draco, but I don't get bad evil wizard feelings from him. And he does have Fawkes. You can't get a much better character reference than a light creature. So, you know, there you are. That's why I don't hate him."

Draco stared at Harry for a long while then reached for his book. Opening it to his current place, he said, "All right."

"All right?" Harry said in disbelief. "That's it? All right?"

"Yes. All right," Draco said. "I see what you're saying. Don't expect me to start liking him, though."

"Uh, sure," Harry said. He was a bit befuddled by what he perceived as Draco's sudden acquiescence. He remained silent for several minutes and watched Draco read.

"Draco?"

"Yes?" Draco said, looking up.

"How did you learn about muggles anyway?" Harry asked curiously.

"Severus arranged for it. After first year and overhearing a few muggle-born conversations I wanted to know more, so he made arrangements for us to stay with and learn from some schoolteacher he had met once." Draco said.

Harry blinked then furrowed his brow in thought. "I'm going to have to reevaluate that man," he said.

"You do that," Draco said, and stuck his nose back in his book.


Harry was entranced. Draco was once again lying on the bed against a pile of pillows, reading that huge book he'd picked out. He wasn't covered with a blanket and Harry would rectify that situation except then it would block his view of those lovely toes. He wondered if Draco would let him suck on them. Harry didn't enjoy having his own toes sucked, he'd almost kicked Benoît's teeth in reflexively when he'd tried, but he did enjoy returning the favor. And Draco had a lovely set of toes, yes, he did. Harry watched them intently, waiting for any twitch that might possibly be construed as inviting.

Draco looked up, again, from his reading. Harry was looking at him, again, with sex on his mind. If Draco couldn't tell that from the bond, which was singing with a nearly compulsive lust, he would have been able to tell from Harry's tented sleep pants. Oddly, Harry didn't seem aware of his condition, too absorbed in whatever body part of Draco's that he was studying. Draco wondered which part held such fascination.

Draco moved his fingers. Nothing. He turned a page of his book with exaggerated arm movements. Nothing. He reached up and grabbed his braid, bringing it over his shoulder and letting it slide through his grip. Nothing. He lifted the heavy book with one hand and rearranged his pants over his groin. Nothing. Hmmm. He lifted his knee a bit and let his leg fall to the side. A small flash of interest. Draco narrowed his eyes. Surely Harry wasn't staring that lustily at Draco's feet? He flexed a foot. A bigger flash of interest, but still nothing to explain that intensity. Experimentally, watching Harry's face, Draco spread wide the toes of his right foot…and was nearly overwhelmed with a surge of lust through the bond as Harry's nostrils flared.

Right. Toes it was. To each his own, Draco figured. Well, there wasn't any reason for Harry to be sitting at the desk over there when it was obvious he'd rather be slavering over Draco's toes over here. Time to correct the situation.

SLAM!

Harry jumped and nearly fell off his chair as Draco slammed his book shut.

"Harry?" Draco asked sweetly.

"Yes?" Harry replied wide-eyed.

"What time is it?"

Giving Draco a suspicious look, Harry nevertheless reached behind him for his wand. A quick word revealed the time of 4:17.

"Are you waiting for an invitation before pouncing me? Because, if you are, you have it," Draco said.

Harry blinked at Draco's near blatant offer. "I was waiting for dinner," he admitted.

"Why?" Draco asked bluntly. "The bond is singing right now. We've been very good boys and waited all week. I see no reason we should wait for dinner."

"But I ordered a special dinner," Harry said weakly. It was true that the bond was singing between them. In fact, if Draco wasn't careful with what he said he might just find himself under Harry in very short order. Harry was steadily losing the last bits of his control over the compulsion surging in the bond magics.

"Harry," Draco said softly and, oh, that sound sent a frisson of lust throughout Harry's body.

"Yeah?" Harry breathed. Maybe dinner wasn't that important? He could always save it for some other special occasion…

"Forget dinner," Draco said, eyes bright, letting the bond's compulsion rush through him.

Harry inhaled sharply. "Yeah?" he asked.

When Draco nodded, Harry relinquished the last of his control over the bond's magics and stalked over to the gorgeous boy lying so invitingly on the bed.

Neither noticed the thud! of Draco's book falling to the floor.