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Chapter Seventy-Four: The Voices of the Light

"Harry. I wish to speak to you, sir."

Harry turned in surprise. He knew it was Syrinx; there was no one else in the school who addressed him as "sir," bar the one time Snape had grown a very, very dry sense of humor over a Potions mishap that Harry should have known better than to make. "Syrinx," he said, with a small nod, and snapped his fingers at one of the library chairs to move it over for her. He was once again in the library, following every tale of willing sacrifice he could to its end and trying to see some hope along that track. Syrinx had come in so quietly that she hadn't attracted Madam Pince's notice, much less his own. "Please, sit."

She took her seat at once, with a delicate quickness Harry remembered from his own days of training. He swallowed his envy. Syrinx only had this absolute certainty of her place in life right now, he reminded himself. When she finished this stage of her war witch training, then she would take back her emotions and the other things that made her more like a human than an automaton. So she did not really lead the simple life he had led five years ago—and even that life had been more complicated than it seemed, crisscrossed by the shadows of betrayals he hadn't known about at the time.

"What would you like to speak to me about?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Draco stood nearby in another aisle of books, poking sullenly at them. Syrinx would not have gone far without him.

"I carry a message for my family."

Harry nodded slowly. If the message was urgent, then Laura Gloryflower would have contacted him herself, by means of the phoenix song spell. This made it much more likely to be a formal situation, requiring a face-to-face meeting and someone of the Gloryflower bloodline to carry out. "And what would she have of me?" he asked, dropping into formal cadences. He heard Draco stop poking among the books and come to stand at his shoulder. Harry didn't look at him. He did intend to speak with him, to tie up the trailing loose ends of the argument they'd had over his coming to Eos's birthing ritual, but for the moment Syrinx's calm, pale face took all his attention.

"My cousin serves the Light," said Syrinx, and paused, waiting for a response.

"It is honored in its servants," said Harry. Draco snorted, but luckily didn't say anything Harry would have to pinch him for.

"She watches the reputation of the Light soar up and down in the world," Syrinx continued serenely. "For the past year, she has watched its travails with a wide eye and a blushing cheek. The Light has done monstrous things to secure its own power. Even though she did not follow Albus Dumbledore, he was the Lord of the Light in Britain, the representative of our allegiance. His actions touch every one of us."

Again the pause, and Harry gave the only response he could make, though it wasn't the one he actually believed; the constraints of this dance demanded acknowledgment of the truth of the messenger's words or an addition of praise, nothing more. "The Lord of the Light did indeed abuse his power."

"The monitoring board and the end of the rebellion were believed to be a new era for the Light," Syrinx continued. "And now she sees that they were not. The monitoring board listened too well to that witch, Aurora Whitestag, who wished nothing more than to manipulate you. They danced on the end of her chain as if she were someone who mattered, who could make their lives harder if she did not control them. And she undeclared!" Syrinx paused a moment as though to calm down, though Harry was sure the passion in her voice was all Laura's and not her own. "The Light has relied on your power, passively, so far. It is time for that to change. I am here as a representative of Gloryflower and Opalline both. Paton Opalline and Laura Gloryflower ask if you will join them in a formal family alliance, similar to the one that you currently maintain with both the Parkinson and the Bulstrode families."

Harry took a breath of surprise. He had never suspected that either family would initiate such an alliance; Paton had seemed happy enough with the connection that Fergus's death had established between them, and Laura had fought at his side in her own way, such as by sheltering Delilah from the werewolf hunters. And to put themselves into the company of Dark wizards! More to the point, to know that they were doing so, to draw attention to the parallels themselves…

That, more than anything, told Harry how much Dumbledore's actions had embarrassed Laura.

Syrinx still waited for his answer, he saw when he looked up. She sat with her hands folded and her head tilted back, baring her throat. The meaning of that gesture was not lost on Harry, either.

"I accept," said Harry. "If they wish to tie themselves to me, and if they know what they bind themselves to, an undeclared Lord-level wizard—"

"You misunderstand," said Syrinx, and for the first time, a faint smile graced her lips. "They bind themselves to a vates. And they bind themselves to Harry." Her hand slid over his forehead like a blessing. "My anchor."

Harry frowned and shook his head. "How can I be the one whom your sanity depends on?" he asked, now that it was clear they were out of the confines of the ritual. Syrinx would never have made such a personal comment if they were not. "I haven't done much to encourage you to choose me that way, and—"

Again, he was interrupted. Syrinx was laughing quietly, with a tone of pure joy in her voice Harry had been sure she was incapable of. She touched his earlobe in a gesture that reminded him of the one with which she'd touched her own when she spoke to the golden kitten near Voldemort's warded house.

"You are too used to looking at things from a Dark perspective," she said, "too used to having allies who require endless persuasion and tugging and flattery until they are satisfied. You have little idea what your exploits look like through Light eyes, sir, and none at all what they look like through mine. I find what you have done enough. More than enough, admirable as the morning air is." She gave him a light kiss this time, on the forehead above the lightning bolt scar, ignoring Draco's growl. "If you wish me to tell you the tale of how the past few months have looked from my perspective, I will. But the Light sees differently than the Dark. It can tell when the Dark has a good idea, and it adopts it. But we are not as the wizards you have known." She smiled at him. "I look forward to helping you know us."

Harry nodded, a bit dazed. Syrinx paused, then added, "If it makes you feel better, it was nothing you did, directly, that caused this. The immediate cause was learning what we had done to house elves in the name of having servants. My cousin's family and the Opallines intend to free them."

Harry had to swallow several times before he could speak. The example of such powerful Light families doing this would send currents running through the wizarding world. Some Light families who right now followed the example of bastards like Cupressus Apollonis might start freeing their house elves because the Gloryflowers and the Opallines had. "I cannot thank you enough."

"You can thank us by letting us become your allies."

Harry nodded once more, and then Syrinx stepped back, turned off her smile, and became part of the bookshelves. Harry faced Draco. He knew that Syrinx could listen to every nuance of this conversation and not repeat any part of it to another living soul. And it was something to know that Draco would be safe even as Harry talked to him. A nightmare last night about Rosier stepping through the wall to Portkey Draco away as he had Connor made Harry simultaneously snicker at his own fear and be glad to have Syrinx there.

"Draco," he said softly, and Draco promptly turned his head away. Harry grasped his cheek and turned his face back. "Look at me."

Draco's temper had been boiling for most of the week, and Harry was sure that it would spill over as soon as they locked gazes. It took a few moments longer than that, but then Draco was ranting, though he kept it to a low, heated voice that did not wake Madam Pince's wrath.

"What do you want me to say, Harry? That I'm sorry? I could say that, I suppose. I tried two days ago, and you didn't accept it. Or I could say that I'm sorry I accused you of violating the standards of free will, but you know what I'm like when there's something I want and you deny it to me. You know how I was raised, as the sole heir of a Dark pureblood family. And you know what I can do when I'm pushed. You know what I've given up for you, what I've initiated for you—" He made a flying gesture that Harry assumed was meant to take in their joining ritual. "You know what I am. And then you persist in trying to make me different than I am, expecting some behavior from me other than what I can give. What can I say? I'm a brat."

Harry waited patiently until he wound down, then said, "No, you aren't. Or you don't have to be."

Draco blinked at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sometimes, what you describe is a source of strength," Harry said, and leaned nearer, until Draco seemed fascinated and couldn't glance away from his eyes despite several small, flickering movements in his face. "It drove you through those first two years when I barely acknowledged you as a friend and thought you would get bored of me any moment. And sometimes your stubbornness meant that you were the only one not to leave me in a moment of crisis. The Chamber of Secrets, Draco. I still remember that." He caressed Draco's cheek with a thumb. "I am sensitive to what you've given up for me and what you've initiated for me, yes. But I think the passage of time has fossilized some of your conceptions of yourself."

"I don't know what you mean," Draco breathed, looking as though he didn't know whether to be angry or to give in to the caress.

"I know you don't," said Harry quietly, and kissed him, the first kiss they had shared since their argument. He drew back before Draco's tongue could touch his. "You have strength and weakness mixed, and the weakness is made of attitudes that even you think of as frail, chinks in your armor. But you refuse to abandon them, because you think admitting them at all would mean another weakness. The furthest you get is this sulky half-defense of them. And if you really could only be a child and a brat and that was all, I would accept that argument.

"But I've seen you at your highest and your best, Draco, when you put forth the effort. I know who you really are, the man you try to hide from." Harry raised his eyebrows, locking Draco in a gaze whose sheer intensity made Draco flush. "The man who defied his father for me, who possessed the Minister, who helped me in the graveyard last Midwinter, who chose the most dangerous method of Declaring to the Dark because it was the only one that answered his own pride. You can be that person, Draco. Not all the time, but you can climb much closer to him than you are now even in your moments of relaxation. And I don't feel inclined to indulge the childishness that hides him any longer."

"So you'll let me know when my behavior is acceptable to you, will you, now?" Draco made his voice as frigid as he could, but it shook on the last words, somewhat destroying the effect.

Harry gripped his shoulders and shook him. "You utter idiot," he said, putting as much disgust and as much affection in his voice as he could. "I want you to be better for your sake, Draco. Because I've seen what you are when you push yourself, and what you are is magnificent. You degrade yourself, not me and not the Malfoy name, when you shove your pride down like this and pretend you were never more than a bratty earthworm. Rise, Draco. I know that you can do it. You have the ambition to do it, when you let yourself know that. You aren't this child, and I won't let you pretend that you are, any more than you would let me pretend not to be a Slytherin."

He shut Draco's protest with a kiss, fierce and strong, a demanding call for a response, and stood. "I don't set a date when I'd like you to change your mind on this," he told Draco. "But I want an equal, Draco, damn it. I've seen him a few times. And I would like it very well if you could find him by the vernal equinox."

Draco frowned. Harry could hear what he was thinking: that that was only a week away. "Why?"

Harry gave him a slow smile. He deliberately reached for slyness and seductiveness, two qualities he had never really tried to add to his expression before. Draco bit off a tiny moan, and then stared at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Harry whispered. "And maybe you'll get to." He winked once at Draco, then turned around and walked out of the library. He had to acknowledge that he'd done all the Horcrux research he could for today.

Besides, the taste of Draco's mouth and the slightly stunned expression on his face, which was like the look Harry imagined he must have worn when Lucius presented him with his ultimatum about the rebellion, had given Harry a rather urgent problem that needed taking care of.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He met the Gloryflowers and the Opallines for the swearing of the formal family oaths in Hogsmeade, pertinently enough, since that was also the place where Dobby had shown the reporters the image of house elf freedom and started this. Harry smiled as he watched more and more Opallines appear. Some of the younger children, of course, couldn't really understand the purpose of the ceremony, but they knew they were in a place where they could pack snowball-like shapes out of the mud of the streets and throw them at each other. That was part of the definition of happiness.

"Harry."

He turned sharply, surprised to hear the joy in that voice—perhaps simply because it was so long since he'd heard it as other than harassed. Calibrid Opalline caught his hands, not seeming to notice that one was gradually warming silver, and drew him nearer for a kiss. Harry gave it to her, and then pulled back and looked at her questioningly.

She appeared smug.

"What?" Harry asked, glancing around. Paton was making his way towards him, talking in Manx to a child he held whose long hair swayed around the face and hid most of his or her features. Angelica Griffinsnest was scolding a girl Harry thought was her granddaughter for throwing mud, and the girl was pretending to look sorry about it. No one else seemed to be suffering Calibrid's secret source of excitement.

"None of our family is going to have any more house elves." Calibrid clasped her hands demurely in front of her, but Harry wasn't fooled. The shine in her eyes made stars look dim. "And more than that, we're gradually going to reveal ourselves to Muggles, little by little."

Harry understood her smugness then. This was something Calibrid had wanted for a long, long time.

"Where?" he asked. "Not on the Isle of Man, surely."

Calibrid shook her head. "No. The British Ministry would simply come in and Obliviate all the Muggles. But one of my cousins has a—special understanding, shall we say, with the Ministry of Portugal?" She laughed quietly. "And it will be small, at first, tricks they can put down to magicians or mad people. But they'll teach the Muggles the meaning of enchantment again, slowly. The unicorns are already running all around the world and bringing back the magic. I think it's time that the wizards participated in that revolution, too. Freeing our house elves is just the first step of many. We say that we value magic, that we love it more than the distinctions of blood and allegiance, and that powerful wizards are honored among us. We can at least try to live as if we believe that."

"But what about the International Statute of Secrecy?" Harry asked, his mind racing. He knew Scrimgeour's people had struggled mightily to preserve that in the face of Acies's attack and the sight of a dragon soaring over Muggle London. He couldn't imagine the rest of the wizarding world would react kindly to it if it were to happen in Portugal, either.

Calibrid said nothing, but looked smugger.

"They're changing that?" Harry asked in disbelief.

She shook her head. "You misunderstand. We have people who are willing to risk going to prison in all sorts of countries so that we can bring magic into the world again. It's nothing more than what you risked, when you came back after the end of the rebellion. It's not as much as werewolves risked in these last few years, living among us and fearing that someone would denounce them at any moment. It's time that ordinary wizards shared part of the risk, don't you think?"

Harry licked his lips. "I—"

"And before you can come up with any nonsense," said Calibrid briskly, "just remember that you may have inspired this, but you're not at fault for it, and you're not responsible for the consequences. The glory and the blame are ours, both. You've made us more willing to act with freedom, vates. Is that not a grand thing?"

"A dangerous thing," Harry said, all the stories he had ever heard of Muggle persecution of witches and wizards surging back full force.

"Oh, of course," said Calibrid. "Change always is. But that's one reason it'll happen slowly, with some Muggles being Obliviated, but others remembering. A unicorn here, a hippogriff there, a childhood friend who's a wizard over there. Piece by piece, Harry, and we fit through the cracks. They can't catch us all." The smugness seemed to have carved permanent lines on her face by now. "And given our family, they'll trace out the patterns of connections for a long time before they realize that chaos tends to follow wherever Opalline bloodlines flourish. And even then, they simply can't shut us all out. We're too essential."

Harry chewed his lips for a moment. "You do realize that the family oath will require me to come to the rescue of anyone in your family who goes to jail?"

"No, it doesn't," said Calibrid, voice patient. "Really, Harry, it does not. Not if we break a law, and we know that's what we're doing. If we're used as a hostage by one of your enemies, and you know about the situation in time to save us, then yes. But not when we take risks that we know are risks. It's the same clause of the oath that doesn't try to kill you if one of our children trips over a rock and smashes her head open—or is eaten alive by a dragon." Shadows in her eyes then, and no smile around her lips, but that lasted for only a moment before it welled back up. "You can only do so much, and we can only do so much. The ordinary accidents of living in this world, and any extra chances that we decide to take, are not your fault."

I have to learn, I suppose, in the end, Harry thought, as he looked into her expectant eyes. Dobby and the other magical creatures can make their own arguments. And my allies can fight their own wars. Really, I should be glad that I'm such an inspiration in the first place, and not worry about what they do with that inspiration. It is their own will.

He held out his flesh hand. Calibrid clasped and shook it. Paton was at their sides then, and he smiled at Harry.

"Shall we begin the oath?" he asked.

Harry lifted his head, caught a glimpse of Laura Gloryflower's golden curls moving forward, and nodded. "Certainly."

"And after the oath," said Calibrid, her voice quivering with excitement like water dancing on the brim of an over-full cup, "I have something else to tell you, Harry. Or ask you." She bit her lips and went still, the brown skin of her face darkening further with a blush.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Very well." Then he drew the knife he'd prepared from his pocket and called the attention of everyone to him with a brief flare of phoenix song. Paton rearranged the child in his arms, and Laura approached quickly. Calibrid was already holding her left arm out.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Draco flinched as a mud-ball splattered against the Shield Charm he'd hastily raised around himself, then glared in several different directions, moodily. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be far away, doing other things. But he'd had to come, because today was the declaring of the formal family alliance, and he was not going to be anywhere other than at Harry's side.

At his shoulder came Syrinx, duplicating his movements gracefully. Draco glared at her. She looked serenely back. There seemed to be nothing he could do that would disconcert her.

Draco bowed his head and kicked a piece of paving stone sticking out of the ground, then scowled because it made his foot hurt.

He felt as though he stood on the edge of an abyss, while below him several people, including Harry, already circled on the wind roaring through the gorge. They called out to him enticingly, told him to come and play, that it was fun. And Draco refused to step off the edge because, well, he couldn't, could he? He was bound to the edge of the cliff by pureblood pride and family duty and all that he knew was true of himself. He wasn't a daring Gryffindor, and he was never going to be some fantastic martyr for the sake of magical creatures like Harry was. Harry could love him for what he was or not love him at all.

But then he looked at people like Connor Potter and Parvati Patil, who had changed out of recognition since third year, and the thought crept sneakily into his mind that who he was could alter.

And what if what Harry said was true, and there was something fiercer, higher, better, in himself that he could achieve all the time? What if Harry was right, that he could grow up, and that growing up meant changing more than he had so far?

It was hard, though. What Draco remembered most about the moments when he had lived life at its highest pitch, at least afterward, was how much effort it took. It left him panting and exhausted. It left him certain that he could do no more, and had to collapse into bed and sleep for a few weeks. And it wasn't so long ago that he'd Declared to the Dark. Or, if he looked back on Rosier's attack as a moment when he had risen above the pain and dashed into the madman's mind to learn the secret of the golden bridle, the last moment like that was just a few days ago. Why did he have to change now? Why did he have to have another moment like that so soon?

Because Harry thinks you can be better than you are.

Draco knew he looked sulky. He didn't care. He could look sulky in public if he wanted.

His father's voice answered his thought as if summoned, a stern declaration. Malfoys do not show their emotions in public, because their wills trump their desires. What they wish, passionately, is always more important than what they may want in any one, fleeting, childish moment.

And this was a childish moment. Children sulked, Draco knew.

And Harry had said that he knew Draco was a man, somewhere under the façade of sulkiness and petulance. And he had said that he wanted an equal. Draco had thought, at first, that that only meant he didn't want Draco trying to exercise power over him the way he'd tried to the night of the birthing ritual.

Now he had to think that it meant Harry wanted Draco to be able to keep up with him, understand the same kinds of thoughts, do the same kinds of deeds—on a level of matched glory, if not exactly the freeing of house elves—and participate in debates on an equal level even if he didn't agree. He had to know enough so that he could disagree in a manner that didn't involve whinging.

Harry was calling him on to be an adult. Draco wondered if, after all, his mental picture shouldn't involve stepping over a cliff to fall onto the winds of a gorge where other people circled, but should look like climbing a mountain to join Harry, who was bouncing impatiently on one of the upper ledges, waiting for him, convinced that it was only Draco's slowness and not any inherent incapacity that held him back.

He didn't want to think that, because it meant that the accusation Harry had made against him during the Presence of War, that Draco could do anything he wanted but was lazy, was true.

And that meant he had no one but himself to blame.

He came to a stop behind Harry, his head spinning, overflowing with ideas and thoughts he could not stop thinking. It wasn't fair. Even when he didn't actually have conversations like that with Harry, his partner's voice was in his head, the words unfading, whispering at him. He scowled at Harry's back.

The family oaths were done. Calibrid Opalline, the Squib woman whom Draco still couldn't believe Paton had chosen as his heir, was stepping back, her pale hair rustling around her dark face as she handed Harry's knife to him. Then she cleared her throat. Harry looked up at her.

"I did say that I had something I wanted to ask you when the oath was sworn, Harry," she said. "And it is this."

Harry would be raising his eyebrows, Draco knew, though he couldn't see his face from this angle. He simply knew him that well.

Calibrid smiled. "Will you marry me?"

Draco felt as though someone had cast a Freezing Charm on his chest. He stared. Harry, equally caught without words, backed up a step from Calibrid and nearly slammed into Draco.

"No, he bloody well won't!" Draco found his voice at last. "What kind of witch do you think you are, interfering in a sacred joining ritual like this?"

"A sensible one," murmured Calibrid, eyes intense, "taking a wizard who deserves an excellent partner from one unworthy of him."

Draco could not speak. The Freezing Charm seemed to have reached his tongue. He reached out and dug his hand into Harry's shoulder. He knew from the way Harry winced that he was hurting him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Harry laughed a moment later, tone light. Draco told himself he was the only one who heard the strain in the back of his voice, let alone knew what it meant. "Calibrid, it's a funny joke, but—"

"It's not a joke," said Calibrid, not moving. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and if she was conscious of the eyes staring from either side of her, Draco could not tell. He was reluctantly impressed, and furious with himself for being impressed. "And it's not the price of our alliance, either. I have offered. You would make me an excellent husband, Harry. I have no reason to doubt your honor or your worth. You aren't Declared for the Light, but given what you have achieved so far, that doesn't matter; undeclared, you have done our world far more good than Albus Dumbledore. You would have a family around you who likewise loves and honors you. We would take a two-year ritual, which would conclude on the second anniversary of this day." She smiled, and Draco couldn't tell if her eyes were cruel, either, when they came to him. "Spring is the best time to begin a joining."

"You have no right to do this," Draco hissed at her.

"Yes, I do." Calibrid was calm. "Until Halloween of this year, and the seventh ritual that you two pass through, anyone has the right to ask one of the partners for his hand. The partner does not have to agree, though." She darted a glance at Harry that told Draco she was hoping he would agree, and that, no, this was not a joke. "And while it would be extremely bad manners for a Dark witch to ask you something like this at any point since the first Walpurgis dance, I am a Light witch. The same rule does not cross Declared allegiances."

"I want to know what you meant," Draco said. He could feel himself vibrating. His breath had sped up until he was aware that he sounded on the verge of hyperventilating, but he couldn't seem to slow it down. His face was flushed with heat, and his hands were digging and twisting into each other even though he hadn't told them to.

"About Harry's worth?" Calibrid gave him a slow, scornful glance. "If he hasn't already proven himself to you a hundred times over, I do not know what poor words of mine can convince you."

"Not that," said Draco. "About my unworthiness of Harry. Why did you say that?"

Calibrid's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you really want me to answer that, Malfoy?" she asked. "In front of these witnesses?"

"No."

That was Harry's voice, not his, and then Draco found privacy wards springing up, encircling them. Sound from the outside of the sphere died. He could hear his own rushing breath, and the slight squeak of Harry's feet as he stepped away from both of them.

Calibrid wasted no time.

"You don't share any of Harry's ideals," she told Draco bluntly. "You fight beside him, but plenty of people do that. Everything I've heard of you calls you someone who whinges and lies back instead of trying to get real labor done. You hardly care about anyone but yourself; if you care about Harry, I think it's only on accident, and when his will happens to coincide with yours. You take advantage of his love for you to be horrible to other people." She looked evenly at Harry for a moment. "I don't say all the fault for that lies with you," she added. "If adults will not discipline children, or even reward them for their bad behavior, of course the child will do it again."

Harry flushed.

"You have no idea," said Draco, the roaring of blood in his ears making it difficult to be sure of what he was saying. "You have no idea what we've been through together, what I've shared with him—"

Calibrid laughed unpleasantly. "No, I don't," she said. "Because you don't show any sign of that in your outer behavior towards him. If you have a deep and intimate bond with him, I've never heard anyone say so. They talk about how you undermine him in public, pick at him in private, and act like a spoiled brat to anyone who crosses you. If no one outside your inner circle can see you as daring and splendid, then are you really daring and splendid?"

"I love Draco," Harry said quietly.

"I have no doubt of that," Calibrid assured him. "But he isn't a match for you in love, Harry. He can't be. He just isn't open enough to the world." She turned back to Draco. "I've grown used to reading people, especially since I'll have to be the political leader of a family who avoids war. I know expressions, and I've learned to tell to a nicety how much the people I watch actually care about the others around them, and give them credit for existing and having wills and minds of their own. Harry is one of the most open I've ever seen. You're one of the most closed. How in the world are you going to be good enough for him? You're not just normal. You're selfish. You require much more work than someone normally open to the world would. And so you add to Harry's burdens instead of complementing his strengths."

Draco could not see by now, anger and tears making his sight blur. He opened his mouth, prepared to fling an insult.

"And now you'll try to insult me," said Calibrid, calm as ice at Midwinter. "Of course you will. You don't know any other way. Why would you? It's what a child would do, and you're a child."

Draco snapped his mouth shut, and stared at her. His head echoed with snatches of remembered words, but the most powerful one was they.

The Squib bitch wasn't the only one who thought this way of him. Harry's other allies did, too. They hadn't seen enough of what he really was—what he could be, in moments he shared with Harry—to think him strong.

And that was wrong, and the only way he could ever show them how wrong they were would be to—

To change his public image. To act the way he dreamed of being. To behave like an adult, and not a child.

The way that Harry had asked him to consider doing.

Draco knew he was greater than the Squib bitch thought he was. He was better than any of them, all of them.

He just had to show them that.

He stepped forward and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I want to go back to the school now," he said quietly, never taking his eyes from Calibrid's face. She gave him a contemptuous smile. Draco let out his breath and reminded himself that he could not expect her to change her mind about him just because he had confounded her expectations once. "If you're done with the formal family alliances, can we do that?"

"Of course," said Harry, his own brow furrowed, and dropped the privacy wards.

Draco waited while Harry bid farewell to those who had come to talk to him, and then turned back towards the school. As soon as they were out of their sight, on the road to Hogwarts, he saw Harry's shoulders tense.

He thinks I'm going to yell at him, take out my anger at Calibrid on him.

Draco stopped and put one hand beneath Harry's chin, tilting his head up. Harry met his eyes with a resigned stare.

Draco kissed him gently, slowly, with attention to detail. Harry groaned. Draco waited until he heard Harry panting into the kiss, then broke it off and leaned their foreheads together.

Harry was smart enough to recognize a Moment when he saw one. He waited in silence until Draco spoke.

"I am going to show everyone that I am worthy of you," Draco whispered. "I'm going to show them what I really am."

Harry stepped away and stared at him. Draco saw the quick leap of hope in his eyes, and how he almost immediately tried to destroy it. That made a pulse of sorrow slip through Draco, that Harry would assume anything like what he promised was too good to be true.

"I promise," he said. "Now it's something more than just your asking me, or even wanting to do this to prove something to myself. I didn't know other people regarded me this way." He felt his mouth trying to twist into a sneer, and prevented it. Insults would not help him get revenge on people who expected insults from him. "I'll show them that I'm your equal—and your superior, even, if you don't watch out."

Harry smiled.

For the first time since the night of their argument, Draco felt warmth sweep through him. The approval in Harry's eyes healed the disappointment he'd felt then.

"I knew you could be," Harry murmured. "I can't even imagine what you'll be like once you finally start living at that level that you can live at, all the time."

"I'll be the one getting marriage proposals," said Draco, and he heard the acid of jealousy burning behind his voice.

"I wouldn't have accepted, you know that," said Harry, in the kind of tone that made it a self-evident truth.

"I know that," Draco said. "That doesn't matter, Harry. What matters is the reason she had for proposing to you. Not thinking I'm worthy of you! I'll show her."

And he could. Steel had replaced the hot anger, as if he'd grown a new spine.

I'll become the kind of person I can be, not the kind of person they want me to be. I'll fulfill my potential so well they'll be ashamed of themselves for questioning it.

I'll show them who I really am.