Posted 1/3/2014

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Fourteen - Revelation

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The rest of the day, Harry had trouble keeping his nerves in check. He had done it. He had signed off on his future. Every few minutes, he covertly looked out the window, waiting for the owl he knew to arrive soon. It was strange to be in the same room as the Weasleys, knowing what he had done, what he had put into motion, with them still unaware. Fred and George had closed the store for the day, Bill and Fleur had dropped in as well. Charlie had sent a letter; Percy hadn't shown his face at all. Ron had tried to engage Harry in a friendly game of chess, but had lost interest shortly after. Harry just wasn't paying enough attention. Ginny had jumped around cheerily, occasionally helping her mother, but restless to sit still. It seemed a family holiday without a ball or a parent on the door of death brought out the little energetic child again.

After Ron had joined the twins in a game of Exploding Snap, Harry had retreated to a corner to get a final look at Ginny's homework. True to his word, Harry had made her write her essay for Defence first thing at the Burrow. Despite her grumbling, he had convinced her by pointing out how much fun she'd have later on with the work done. The previous day, she had finished her essay. Harry would have preferred to wait a few days, but since he had to check it, he needed to have it done before he would have to deal with the Greengrasses.

It didn't look that bad, he reasoned. He crosschecked some of her references. Her work was acceptable all in all, he decided, but still not good enough for Snape. He crossed some parts out, wrote a new paragraph on a scrap. Ginny's understanding of shield charms he recognized as his own explanations. They were correct of course, but Harry still knew just what their teacher would say about them. References, he wrote down next to it. Potential differentiation? He added after a moment of hesitation. If she had him have a look at it, why not go all out? At the paragraph after the next, he shook his head. He knew where she had read that theory, but also knew Snape's book to claim the opposite and be, unfortunately, correct. He marked it as such. New conclusion, different focus, check the book, he wrote next to it.

Bit by bit, Harry understood Hermione's concern. Ginny's work had started reasonably well, but she had neglected to crosscheck. Worse, once she had to connect the information from the sources, she had gone off on an interesting, but irrelevant tangent. She could copy decently, but lacked skill in reasoning.

His eyes darted once again to the window. Still no owl. How long until it would arrive? But no matter, he had decided and he would go through with it. He looked back to the parchment in front of him.

Kappas not native, he put next to a surprisingly brilliant idea. Sadly, Ginny had once again not done the proper background reading. Was he really that much like Hermione when it came to Defence, Harry wondered while jotting down another paragraph, this time about the dangers of using fire around Hinkypunks. Although it might be interesting to watch, once one applied the proper protections around oneself, he mused. Yeah, setting a swamp dweller alight might not be such a good idea unless to set the whole swamp on fire.

"Oh, Harry, don't do that now," chided Mrs. Weasley, stepping up to him. "It's Christmas, homework will still be there tomorrow."

Harry smiled at her. "I know; I just needed something familiar. Being friends with Hermione means homework every day."

"She's corrupted you!" George yelled.

"We've lost him!" Fred added.

"Quiet you!" Harry bellowed, but he grinned at them. "Life can't be just fun and games!" Ignoring the protests, he turned to Mrs. Weasley again. "I'm almost done anyway, see? Only this part. Afterwards, I promise I'll put it away. No more school work for the rest of the day."

She groaned, but finally nodded sharply. "Well, alright. And you, Ron, could use a bit of his mentality! Don't think I haven't noticed you avoiding all schoolwork! You've been here for over three days. Have you done anything at all?"

"I've got loads of time left," her youngest son argued, but his ears reddened.

"Well, dinner is almost ready. Wash your hands, go on. Bill, would you mind helping me?"

Harry turned back to the parchment. Not applicable and too tiring, he wrote next to a lengthy paragraph about stunners. He knew from personal experience just how resilient some creatures could be to spellfire. Indirect approach, blunt force, he put next to it. See Rover and Mallard, p. 217. There. That would make Snape very happy and therefore earn a passing grade for a Gryffindor. He wrote another paragraph, then a rough outline for the conclusion. So that was how Hermione felt whenever she went over Harry's and Ron's work.

Absentmindedly, he noticed Bill and Fleur going into the kitchen, and Ron and Ginny leaving for the bathroom as he rolled up the parchment.

"Always the diligent schoolboy?" Fred teased with a nod towards the parchment.

"Yeah, well, someone has to clean up the mess you left at Hogwarts. Hermione's got Ron covered..."

"And you're covering our little sister?" George asked with a frown. "I thought she was with Thomas?"

Harry blinked. "Well, she is. So? Hermione asked me to have a look at Ginny's essay so I did. I can sort of see why she thought I should do it, but I've made notes so it should be alright. And as for your second question, yes, she is still with Dean as far as I know. But then, he didn't continue Defence and I think he wasn't all that great at it anyway so he'd be less than ideal, would he?" Seeing their raised eyebrows, Harry added, "Ah, come now. Yeah, I remember your worries from summer. So he's not the best protector in the world. He's still a decent guy. That should count for something, right? It's not like Ginny needs someone to protect her in the first place. And with both Ron and I to watch his steps..."

But just then, a regal owl arrived and landed right in front of Harry. Laughing inwardly about the impeccable timing, he detached the letter from the bird that immediately flew off again. Harry carefully turned the envelope in his hands, both knowing what it would contain as well as trying not to let his understanding show.

"Gringotts," He told the room, feeling everyone's eyes on him. How odd it was to have the kitchen silent enough to hear Ron and Ginny yelling upstairs. Keeping his hands steady, fighting for the first time in hours to keep his calm, he opened the letter. The twins peered over his shoulder, and knowing the others watching him, Harry made sure to read the missive. But his mind was elsewhere. Had the Greengrasses already received their letter? The Malfoys?

Don't smile, he reprimanded himself at that thought. Oh, he hoped he had given both families the presents they deserved. Greengrass would probably be jubilant inwardly, or so he hoped. Even if he didn't particularly like her, gifting her her freedom was something he considered nice. Or would it destroy their Christmas celebrations? Maybe he should have warned her about it.

The Malfoys would be going mad, he guessed. Either they would celebrate the end to their troubles –or at least the troubles stemming from the contract –or they'd be furious because of the lost gold they wouldn't be able to hand over to their master. Yeah, probably the latter. All the more gratifying.

The twins gasped next to him, and he believed he had spent enough time to let the faked surprise show. He had prepared, of course. If he wanted to look surprised, shocked, and horrified, he felt it necessary to be surprised, shocked, and horrified. He imagined the first thing that he could think of which would cause all three: Snape, draped in a towel, winking suggestively.

Well, he thought wryly, he hadn't wanted to sleep that night anyway, what would one additional nightmare harm? And that image would easily surprise, shock and horrify him.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come over. She had taken the letter –honestly, did no one in the family care for privacy? –and both had given it a glance.

"Err," Mr. Weasley began. "That's... err." His wife paled dramatically and swayed on her feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw George shake himself out of his daze. "I..."

"Congratulations?" his twin tried. He sounded somewhere between disbelieving and ecstatic.

"Yeah," George tried again and, dropping his voice, added in a whisper only Harry and Fred could hear, "brilliant prank."

Harry stumbled backwards. Oh well, it would only lend credence to his acting. "I... no, that's no prank," he said, realizing only a second later it was a lie, "I... you know me, I..."

"It's genuine," Bill told the room from his place. "I recognize a Gringotts owl. It's genuine. What have you done, Harry?"

Ah, finally someone helped him get the moment back on track. "I... nothing! Nothing like... that!" he said with a wave of his hand. "I... made a donation. To the Gringotts Fund... Hogwarts, I mean. For the children. The... what's going on?" Had it been too much? Harry thought he saw a glint in the twins' eyes. They'd be familiar enough with lying to notice the half-truth Harry tried to sell.

Just then, Ron stumbled into the room. "Ginny'll come, she just..." He stopped, noticing the silence. "What's up?" His smile slid off his face, to be replaced with the grim demeanour Harry had come to hate, the one connected to the losses of war. "What happened? Who died?"

That, it seemed, shook Mr. Weasley out of his thoughts. "Err, no, Ron, it's something different." Bill meanwhile had grabbed the letter and had begun performing a number of spells on it. His father continued speaking, his voice growing stronger. "It... Harry seems to have... stumbled into... didn't they inform you sometime?" he suddenly asked.

"Err, no I... I haven't received anything from Gringotts or the Ministry or..." That should do it, Harry thought. And it was true; neither Gringotts nor the Ministry had informed him so it wasn't really lying so much as omitting the fact someone else had told him. "There's gotta be something I can do?"

Mr. Weasley exchanged a glance with his wife who had steadied herself on the table. "I am not an expert on this, but... if it is genuine..." he said after a moment, accompanied by a sob of Mrs. Weasley.

"It is," Bill told them, bafflement clear in his voice.

"Then, no, I don't think so. You must have stumbled into some oversight on their part, but this being a..." Harry could tell the man refrained from saying 'magical contract' and had to fight another laugh. "I... I'm sorry, I don't think so."

"What is going on?" Ron repeated.

Seeing his panicked expression, Harry had half a mind to tell him the whole truth. In fact, he regretted not telling him in the first place. He had known the Weasleys would have been present and involved. Why hadn't he let Ron know what would happen? Maybe Harry should have told his best friends at least, both of them, about his plan and saved them the worries? But then, neither Ron nor Hermione would have been all that happy about it, he guessed. Would they get along with Greengrass? Harry hoped so. It would be awkward if his friends and his widow didn't get along.

Not receiving an answer, Ron glared at them. Ah, yes. That was probably a good reason to not inform Ron. With his impulsive behaviour, he would have been a risk.

George finally shook out of his daze enough to gather his thoughts. "Harry marries Greengrass," he said, still sounding disbelieving. His eyes were shimmering with silent laughter. Well, to him, it would seem hilarious.

"He activated a contract from the Blacks," Bill supplied, "but I don't know anymore."

Ron blinked. "Oh." But he didn't say anything else. Harry knew the blank look on his face well enough to know the redhead was too stunned by that change of events to think clearly. And Harry couldn't fault him. If he hadn't been informed in advance, eased into it by Neville, then he would have been as well.

Mrs. Weasley wrung her hands helplessly. Again, Harry was overcome with the wish to come out and tell them. They were as good as family, surely they would keep his –well, he amended in his mind –their secret? Fleur had an indistinguishable look on her face, halfway between joy and anger if Harry had to guess. Well, she had every right to both in a way. Weddings were usually seen as a joyous occasion, but with her own coming up, Harry's might overshadow hers. Maybe he should have thought about that as well. Fred and George fought with silent giggles.

Ginny entered the room. She too glanced around. "Why are you all standing around? Mum, I thought you told us dinner was ready?" That had Harry fighting back an inappropriate grin as his attention was drawn to something that had slipped his mind earlier. What were the odds of Ron not asking about dinner? A historic day in more than one sense. But he couldn't allow himself to be amused, not when he had to be shocked. Oh, and scared. Maybe he should add a little fear to the mix?

Fred however seemed to have lost the fight. Doubling over, he sat on the ground, overcome with laughter. "Harry..." he gasped. "Harry... marries!"

Mr. Weasley's sigh seemed to have convinced the girl, and she seemed to believe it faster than Harry suspected. She smiled, then grinned, her eyes alight. Well, no doubt about it, she really was related to the twins and already preparing all the teasing material she could think of, Harry thought wryly.

Perhaps he should have waited until New Year's morning to go to Gringotts? He'd have had an easier time escaping the Weasleys. But no, he had had his reasons, and it was better to get it over with during the holidays.

George snorted, equally amused as his brother. "Yeah, Greengrass! Congrats, mate. Quite a catch!"

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "How'd that happen? Greengrass? The..." he gestured helplessly, unsure of how to describe her adequately. Somehow though, Harry felt deeply insulted in her stead by the gestures his friend made. Fleur blushed slightly, and Mrs. Weasley yelled "RONALD!" while her husband frowned severely.

"Sorry, I meant... well..." Ron stuttered.

"Oh, we know perfectly well what you meant," George told him. "Very descriptive, Ron."

"Gree... Greengrass?" Ginny yelled, her voice rising very similar to her mother's in times of upset. "How... ? Daddy, what do they... ? Why... ? I..." Her eyes jumped to everyone in the room in disbelief.

"'e 'as –comment dites-vous? –err, made a contract?" Fleur told her.

"More like, he stumbled into one accidentally, set up by the Blacks, apparently," Bill supplied.

"But... but that can't be... legal, right? I mean, Harry can't have to..." Ginny stuttered in shock.

"Yeah," Ron added. "There's gotta be something we can do, like... I don't know..."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Ron, I know we have taught you about the traditions. It is a contract. Bill has already verified the letter. There is little that can be done. –Fred, George, get a grip of yourselves, this is serious!"

Both bit their lips, but complied. Harry looked around the room. That could have gone better but also far worse, he surmised. Counting down a few seconds, he decided to give the stagnating discussion a push.

"So... err," he began, "what... should I... do? Couldn't I just... throw it in the fire or something?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head but it was Bill who answered while Ron and Ginny stared pale-faced into the distance. "No, burning is not an option. First of all, this is just a notice, nothing more. Second of all, Gringotts doesn't care whether you knew about it or not, and neither does the Ministry. Are you sure you haven't received a letter or something from them?"

"Nothing from them, I am sure."

"Well, burning wouldn't work. The contract is active. There is only one way to proceed. The... the other family will have been notified as well. You will have to meet and... well, write up a contract specifically tailored for... err..."

Harry interrupted. "But it says I'm already... what do you mean, 'a contract specifically tailored for', I thought...?" If he wanted the talk to get anywhere, it seemed he needed to guide it there.

"Oh, I forgot. Well, this is a pureblood tradition, you see? Some time ago, someone from the Blacks agreed to have one of his descendants marry someone from the other family..."

"Greengrass," Harry supplied.

"Or something similar, yes. You aren't a Black, but still the contract applies to you. The same could be true for her family. Well, now that it has been activated, the original agreement will be replaced with one for you, Harry. A personalized contract."

So they were getting somewhere. Finally. "Harry has to... marry?" Ginny whispered.

"Harry?" George began.

"Marry?" Fred added.

George looked at his twin. "Surprised?"

"Very. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Only a rudimentary. You?"

"Quite the contrary."

"Will you two stop!" their mother bellowed. It seemed yelling at them had brought back the normalcy she needed to realign herself.

"Excuse me," Ginny said, "I'll... fetch the book about traditions." Turning, she ran to the living room.

"Ginny, that's not..." Bill shouted after her.

Huh, Harry thought. He hadn't known about a book like that in the house but it would make things a lot easier. Or more complicated, he wasn't sure. On the one hand, it would mean they would have something other than opinions, but it also meant they would have something to argue about. And the more they knew, the more likely someone might stumble upon the truth.

"Back to the problem at hand," the eldest Weasley son said. "You will have to enter negotiations, and soon, I'd say. Waiting on it isn't really acceptable. You will need someone to help you, I think. Normally it should be someone from your family, but..."

"So, I'll have to find someone to... negotiate? Negotiate what?"

"The... err... the terms," Bill replied lamely. "About the... wedding date and... and dowries and... well..."

Mrs. Weasley sank to her chair. Why would she care, Harry wondered. It didn't really affect her, and as far as she knew, there was a strong likelihood of the contract ending in time. Didn't they know their own traditions? But he had a talk to direct the conversation in the direction he needed it to go. "Alright, so... yes. I... so I need someone to go with me?"

"Basically, yes. It should be someone you trust, naturally. A witch or wizard versed in the traditions. Matters like that really doesn't happen that often anymore. It has fallen out of favour, you see?"

"Harry has to...?" Ron mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Right. So... I don't know... something else to keep in mind about this... person?"

"No. Ideally someone from the family, like I said, but that is not an option in your case. Perhaps Tonks' mother? What do you think, Dad?"

Mr. Weasley pursed his lips. "She was cast from the family. It might seem like an insult –as much as I like Andromeda, she was cast from the family. That doesn't sound like an appropriate spokeswoman."

"Would... would you do it?" Harry asked, thinking about dead puppies.

The older man blinked. "I'm... honoured you think of me, but... the Weasleys aren't exactly... I'm a Ministry worker, not really a negotiator and far from familiar with the procedures. I don't... it's been a long time since I last..." He looked around helplessly.

Harry forced himself to look dejected. It wasn't really that hard, he had hoped the man he respected would play along. Really, all that was needed was a face, not a brilliant mind. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he realized a brilliant mind was the last he needed.

Bill cleared his throat. "Well, I can ask around. A solicitor might be the best choice in this case. Something along the lines of unexpected developments and time-constraints keeping everyone else away."

"Could you not do eet?" Fleur asked surprised.

"Well, theoretically, yes, but..." he began.

"Would you do it? You obviously know a lot about it, and I trust you more than some... would you?" Harry tried. If he couldn't have the kind-hearted father, why not have the knowledgeable son? He sent a pleading look.

Bill narrowed his eyes in deep concentration. Finally, he sighed. "I could do it, yes."

"Please?" Mrs. Weasley said, pale-faced. "Look out for him?"

Bill avoided her eyes, but nodded sharply. "Fine. Harry, could I talk to you for a moment, then?" He gestured to the stairs.

"Err, I guess so?" Harry followed, and both walked past Ron who was rooted to the spot. Once they had ascended to the first landing, Bill pulled his wand out and cast some spells.

"Privacy," he explained curtly. Finally content with his work, he turned to Harry. "What do you have to say for yourself, Harry? Was it really necessary to shock my parents like that? Oh, don't think I'm stupid, I know you planned this. You're good, but not that good. You're not that good of an actor. So? Explain."

Harry gaped at him. "But...!"

"I played along, yes. You set it up, you had something in mind. I know you well enough to guess you have a good reason, but if I am expected to play along during the negotiations..." He broke off.

Well, that complicated matters in one way and made it easier in another. "Well, yes. I knew about it. Greengrass couldn't back out. Malfoy was slated to be her husband."

"Please tell me you didn't do it because of that," Bill pleaded with a groan.

"Ah, no. Greengrass didn't want to marry him, but she could get the money to buy out. The Malfoys have kept quiet for months, so it's very likely they wanted something out of the contract one way or another. At first, Greengrass wanted me to buy out for House Black, but since I couldn't sign the settlement for myself and no one left in the family Black would have been suitable or willing to do me a favour..."

"No dice, yes, I get it."

"Right. So, Greengrass thought up this plan instead. She has a rough draft lying around already, but as far as everyone else is concerned, it was for Malfoy, not me. We agreed on the main issues already, especially the inclusion of a reliable out."

Bill began nodding. "I see. You marry and after a while, having fulfilled the obligation, you split. Alright, see, that is something I need to know if I have to represent your interests. Who knows about this? If I have to play along, I'd rather not waste time lying to those in on it."

Harry glanced around. "Well, Greengrass and I know about it, obviously. Neville and Bulstrode –Millicent, I mean –acted as our representatives. And the goblin Paletooth, I met him this morning."

"You really didn't do this halfway, did you?" Bill said. "Paletooth, hmm. Well, it could be better, but it could be a lot worse. So that's what you had to do in summer?"

"Not my idea, and yes. Anyway, the plan is for me to act surprised and unawares, but fast on the uptake. Greengrass will put forth the preliminary contract with outlined clauses, we'll cross some of the unnecessary ones, add a few we have not yet written down. For her safety, she will act distraught about it and, according to our plans, insist on including outs. It is to keep her away from the Malfoys and their master, you see?"

"And you just happen to go along with it out of the kindness of your heart?"

"That's part of it. There's also the hefty sum of gold House Black will earn should she live to see her 26th birthday." He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "Until then, I'll hold a small token of hers as a safety."

"Nice," Bill commented. "Well, I don't like it. But I can see where you are coming from. So all I have to do is fight for the clauses you want, keep it as simple as possible and block any attempt to add any real obligation?"

"Something like that. And, Bill, I'm sorry to have kept you in the dark..."

"But you will continue with the rest of the family?" Bill peered at Harry. "You know, I had always thought you were the archetypical Gryffindor, the embodiment of courage and kindness. I have misjudged you. You also have some traits associated with Slytherins, and not the better ones." He held the boy's shocked gaze resolutely. "I will help you, but I hadn't deemed you as cruel. What you did tonight was very much so, even if I understand your reasons and you did it out of kindness. You hurt your friends." And with that, they walked back down the stairs.


Christmas had always been his favourite time of the year. Well, Christmas and his birthday, of course. It meant presents, and a lot of them. It also meant visitors. In fact, one of Draco's first memories was of the funny men and women coming late in the evening. Sure, they had looked scary and creepy, but they had also brought presents. Not for Draco, but still presents. And they had talked to his parents pleasantly, so they couldn't have been all that bad.

Draco had asked his mother about them and especially about the scarred man with the sneer whom Draco had believed to be a villain just like the ones in the stories. She had told him about the reality; those who fought the wickedness in the world sometimes got hurt, and that man, Narcissa Malfoy had said, had fought the true evil in the world, The Enemy, the faceless mass always threatening to destroy the pure and just cause. Draco had believed her back then. He had been a child; he hadn't understood the strange smiles the grown-ups had exchanged at that explanation.

But that was the past. The visitors weren't coming this year. Some had been imprisoned, held for the moment, and Draco looked forward to meeting them again. The rest were too busy and knew better than to draw attention to themselves by visiting a known Death Eater's family. But Draco didn't mind. He was no child anymore; he was a man. The sweaty man was now Cornelius Fudge, former Minister. The scary man was now MacNair, or Walden, the fat witch simply Carrow. No one patted him on his head anymore since he was no longer that boy. He had grown up, had become a man himself, almost an adult already. He was now one of them.

Adult. That had a nice ring to it. Like a cavern, surprisingly dark, hollow. Ready to be filled, ready for a purpose. What did it matter that no visitors came this year? Last Christmas had been nice enough for two years. Gloomy at first, but then it had become ultimately better after his mother had tied up some loose ends at St. Mungo's at her husband's request.

His father. Yes, that was what Draco missed the most; he would have loved to tell his father about his school year. Ever since he had started at Hogwarts, his father had put aside a bit of time for their talks, had let his son rant about the injustice he was faced with at Hogwarts. And it was just that. Why did Draco have to be stuck in the same year as Potter or that Mudblood Granger? How was he, a fine boy in his own right, expected to overcome the massive amount of favouritism the two received? Just first year, he had done a lot to make his house stand out against the rest of them. He had pushed and teased and insulted and sabotaged as good as he could, just like he had been taught to and just as was necessary to get ahead, and without getting caught most of the time, but in the end, Dumbledore had to step in and award Potter and Weasley and Granger points for the most ridiculous things. Or second year, Potter had stopped the monster of Slytherin, and again Dumbledore had showered his favourite student with House points. Draco's father had explained both incidents to his son in the summer before his fifth year.

So Potter had supposedly stopped the Dark Lord's rise in his first year? Impressive, yes, Draco had to concede, but nothing that would merit House points. It had nothing to do with the rewarding system of the school, and it certainly wasn't something to deserve rewards. And then there was the monster of Slytherin. Potter had intervened once more, this time with the plans of Draco's father. Why couldn't he have just let things run its natural course?

Back then, Draco had parroted his father's beliefs. How simple he had been back then. Had he really accepted it without question? He had. But then, Draco had grown up since then. He wasn't Lucius Malfoy's son anymore; he was his own man.

That, too, had a nice ring to it, Draco thought, as he stepped out of the tub. Yes, he did no longer say what his father wanted him to. He now stood for himself and his own beliefs. Grabbing a towel, he looked in the mirror. He had always been rather good-looking, in his own opinion anyway, which had been his parents' opinion. But he could see what they meant. In himself, he could see a man of pure heritage. From his aristocratic features to his toned body, he was truly something special. He hadn't been lucky when it came to looks like some simpletons no doubt thought. Luck had nothing to do with it. He was the epitome of pure blood.

He quickly dried off. Yes, it was Christmas, and a slow one at that. But he still had responsibilities. And he couldn't dawdle just because he got lost in his own thoughts. The house-elf they still had would take care of the actual work and would be very busy. His mother had arranged everything already. The next day, they would visit Fuller – Fuller? Keller? –and after that pay their respects to some business contacts of the family. They had fallen from grace, yes, but they weren't lost. The name Malfoy still held some power, and behind the scenes, they were already rising again.

Fully dressed in his finest robes, he stepped into the living room only to find someone already present.

"Well, hello there, nephew," the woman sang. Azkaban had left its marks, certainly, but from what Draco could tell, Bellatrix Lestrange had suffered a lot less than most. She had looked horrible just after she had been freed Draco had been told, but mostly because she had endured the dreadful food in the prison. Once she had gotten a few square meals in her, she had regained her proper form again.

"Aunt Bellatrix," he greeted. "I'm surprised you are walking around. Shouldn't you stay out of sight?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, little Draco," she pouted. "The Ministry has too much to do today. Too much to do, too many bodies, too much work," she sang again.

"Is that so? Busy day, then?" he asked, more to say something. He had learned to not let her get started; with a mind like hers, it would otherwise take a while until she'd settle down again.

"Oh, don't talk about work, not today! Talk about fun!" she told him, and cackling, added, "I had a lot! I visited Steward. Killed him, didn't I? Oh, it was fun, the most I had in a while. You should have been there, his eyes popping, then the rest. It was brilliant."

"I can imagine," Draco said levelly.

"Oh, you can, can you?" She stood up straight, her face in a pompous smile, and spoke in a deeper voice, stroking a nonexistent belly, "Good boy, he is. Going places, he will be, I can tell, I always can. I met old Arcturus, did you know? Yes, this one will be going places."

"So you know Slughorn, then?" Draco asked her, recognizing her impersonation.

"Oh, yes, yes, I heard. Smart move from Dumbledore, and very useful too. Let him collect his friends, I say. Let him collect the prize, and once the Dark Lord comes it will be ours. How is the old man? How is Slughorn?"

"Grating, to be honest. He doesn't spare me one glance. And Theodore neither. Nott, that is."

"Ah, yes. Slughorn, always the fool, always just a bit too righteous. But you know what the good thing about him is? He'll fall so easily. Just a tip and he'll do what we want him to. A disgrace for the noble house of Slytherin, yes, but still a useful tool."

"He seems to have seen the light, though. I wasn't invited to his party..."

"Neither was I in my time. But then, I wasn't really his type, I think. He liked his girls nice and obedient," Bellatrix told her nephew. "To look at him with adoration, to go to him with questions."

"But he also didn't invite his little Potions Prince Potter."

"Oh, don't worry your little head about the eccentricities of a demented old man."

"And yet, I'm supposed to keep an eye on Dumbledore."

"Oh, good one," Bellatrix cackled. "That one, yes. But he will die, and hopefully soon."

"Let's hope, yes," Narcissa Malfoy announced, walking in the room. "Bellatrix, it is nice to see you in such a good mood."

"I had a fun day, Cissy, I visited a family. Crisp woman, that Auror Hendries. No more of her. No more Mr. Hendries. No more Benjamin, no more Maria, no more little Isaac, no more dog, and no more Toby, the cheery neighbour. They had a nice Christmas roast, though. You really should have come along; you know how much I miss the old times when we played together."

Narcissa smiled thinly. "Well, that is good to hear. And on that note, the elf has prepared dinner." She gestured to the hall. "So, Bella, tell me, have you received any news about Lucius and his plight?"

"Oh, let him be there for all I care! I came out alright, didn't I? It won't kill him to sit and think for a while. Let him prove his loyalty the right way, earn his robes."

"He earned them, Bellatrix. You know it, I know it," Narcissa replied icily.

"Small fish, yes. Once he's done in a few Aurors, then we'll see. But he wasn't there that night, was he? No he wasn't, not when I visited the Longbottoms, he wasn't there," her sister mumbled with a grimace.

"He's alive, Bellatrix. Both of the Longbottoms are. You failed."

She smiled proudly. "Yes, he is, isn't he? And his son too, right, Draco? How is the boy?"

He hesitated. "He's improving. He's working on himself, from what I can tell."

"Oh! How marvellous! See, Cissy, groom your prey. Cultivate them. I can't wait to see the little boy again, we had far too little time in June. Does he still have those eyes? Does he, when I'm not around?" She absent-mindedly licked her lips, and a small shiver ran through her. "You will see, Draco. You will know. I'll let you in on a secret, though. A strong one? Really nice. I like it when they fight. It's a challenge. But it's not for everyone, no."

She peered at her nephew. "But then there is entertainment, Draco. Pleasure; something your mother knows nothing about. She always preferred to stay safe." His aunt scoffed, but quickly returned to her smile. "I haven't told you about Maria yet, Draco. I met her today."

"Bella," Narcissa warned.

But her sister didn't listen. "Let me tell you about Maria." She was positively giddy, her eyes shimmering with glee as she had a new spring in her step. "Yes, let me tell you about them. You see, everyone in the family looked very similar. Everyone but her. Everyone had these rosy cheeks. Everyone but her. And everyone had these thin lips. Everyone but her. And everyone had these blue eyes. Everyone but her."

"Bella," Narcissa warned more fiercely, pulling her wand and pushing it in her sister's face.

"You know what, Draco?" Bellatrix whispered, her voice quivering, her eyes locked on Draco's. She didn't seem to notice the wand in her face. "Take away the cheeks. Take away the lips. Take away the eyes. And suddenly, they are the same. Underneath their skin, they are the same... prey. And the most entertaining prey at that. They can fight back sometimes, and that is when it becomes really fun." She fixed her sister with a look. And suddenly, her tone changed. Not a bit of her cheerfulness remained. "He's got it, he isn't like you or Lucius, I can tell. He's got what it takes, I can tell."

It was odd, Draco realized, how sane his aunt seemed in that moment.

An owl burst in and dropped a heavy letter in his hands before flying out. He stared at it, easily recognizing the Gringotts seal. They had sent him a letter. The goblins had sent him a letter. In trance, he opened and read it. "The contract was activated," he told the hall.

Maybe it was due to shock, but Draco's mother lowered her wand. Bellatrix ripped the letter from his hand, glanced at it and let loose a demented scream.


So, the letters went out. I debated on who to have for Harry as a representative, but realized it doesn't really matter all that much. He needs a face, not a mind, since the contract is already mostly written. And let's face it, the Curse Breaker working at Gringotts is hardly the worst choice.