Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters.
The Ministry of Magic, Level Ten, Courtroom Ten, July 1997 (22)
Two years ago, when Harry was tried for using underage magic, Courtroom Ten's size had overwhelmed him, making him feel like a pet goldfish someone had chucked into the Black Lake. Now, it seemed as if the entirety of Britain's wizarding community had stuffed itself inside the room, filling it well beyond its maximum capacity of 200. Those that had managed to slip inside before Aurors began turning people away sat squashed together, sardine-like, on the stone steps that ran alongside the benches, their bodies tipped forward, angling for a decent view of the prisoners, and Harry.
Harry, Snape, and Draco were seated in the front row on the left side of the room where the prisoners entered and exited. Harry felt the crowd's eyes on him; he wasn't surprised. Of all the trials, the ones involving him, Draco, and Snape were likely to draw the most attention. However, once the trial started, every eye was on the center of the courtroom as Aurors brought Antonin Dolohov in.
After a recounting of the charges, members of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, or MACUSA, began questioning him, but the Death Eater ignored them, twisting his head around to leer at Draco. His face, scarred from Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hexes, was appalling and unnerving. To avoid Dolohov's rat-like eyes, Draco stared unwaveringly at the MACUSA members.
Harry found the man's gaze unsettling too, but more than that, he found Dolohov's behavior confusing and alarming. Based on the witnesses that had testified so far, Dolohov was sure to get a life sentence or even the Dementor's Kiss. Yet he acted as though he were waiting for the Knight Bus, making Harry wonder if the man's lack of concern might mean there was another traitor amongst the Aurors' ranks, another Billy Loyd poised to free him when the opportunity arose.
Dolohov sat smirking and unrepentant as witness after witness testified about watching Seamus Finnigan die. After only a few minutes into the first witness's account, Harry wanted to leave. He didn't want the ugly details of Seamus's death to be his last memory of the Irish boy.
From what Debra Johns—a sixth-year Ravenclaw—said, Dolohov had enjoyed killing Seamus. Her voice shook as she haltingly described how, in the courtyard that night, Dolohov had forced Seamus to lie face down on the ground before repeatedly driving his boot heel into the back of the boy's neck and head. Dolohov did this all while gleefully telling the others that they were next. After the fourth witness (a Slytherin) told the same story, a stricken-looking MACUSA member asked if there was testimony other than Seamus's death.
Aberforth testified about Dolohov casting the Killing Curse at Harry and Snape the night of the Final Battle. Again, Harry felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him, but he ignored it to focus on Aberforth, reliving the experience with every word the old wizard uttered. He found himself wishing Hermione were there, but he had forbidden her from coming. She'd only agreed after a rather bitter row. Thanks to Draco's intervention, Ron had reluctantly stayed away as well.
The trial ended just before noon with the American Chief of Magical Affairs, Anwir 'Weary' Fridtjof, declaring Dolohov guilty of murder, attempted murder, and several other crimes. Harry had expected it to be an all-day ordeal; he had also expected to be called to testify, but was relieved when he wasn't.
As the courtroom emptied, Brân and one other Auror stood with Harry, Snape, Draco, and Aberforth, prepared to rebuff anyone trying to approach them. People glanced at them or stared as they walked past, but no one seemed intent on engaging them.
"Can't they clear this place any faster?" Draco asked, thin fingers wringing the cuff of his robe.
"A few more minutes and we'll have you out of here," Brân said quietly, his eyes on the thinning crowd.
Harry knocked Draco's knee with his knuckles, getting his attention. Draco looked at him before directing his eyes back towards the entrance. Five minutes later they were the only occupants.
"Check the corridor, Willie," Brân said to the young Auror.
Harry hadn't recognized him until Brân said his name. Before boarding the carriages to leave Hogwarts, Theo had introduced them—although he had used Willie's given name, Selby, because he knew it annoyed Willie. Theo had described Willie as something like an older brother, as they had practically grown up together because Theo's father, Bram, was Willie's godfather.
"On my way," Williamson said, then dashed across the courtroom. Sometime later he reappeared at the entrance and called out: "All clear!"
Brân nodded at him, then he and Williamson ushered Snape, Aberforth, and the boys out of the courtroom, and out of the Ministry.
*SP
The Ministry of Magic, Level Ten, Courtroom Ten, July 1997 (23)
Billy Loyd was as tight-lipped and hostile at his trial as Dolohov had been the day before, but unlike his fellow Death Eater, Loyd never acknowledged Harry, Draco, or Snape. With an Auror on each side, he shuffled into the courtroom, shackled from neck to foot, taking his place in the same chair Dolohov had occupied.
"State your name for the record," said Fridtjof.
"My name is of no concern to you," Loyd replied. "You need only know that, as ever, my loyalties lie with the Dark Lord. I do not recognize your laws or these proceedings." The chains tethering his wrists and ankles rattled as he spoke, each clink an angry emphasis.
Like Dolohov, and a fair number of defendants whose trials followed, Loyd seemed to want to steamroll through the process to get it over with as quickly as possible, and as they had done with Dolohov, the MACUSA obliged. Minutes after the noon hour, fed up with Loyd's reticence, Fridtjof announced that because the accused refused to counter the witnesses' testimonies, the MACUSA had no choice but to declare him guilty.
Loyd reacted by laughing.
The audience, which had been quietly engrossed in the testimonies, erupted, disappointed in yet another abbreviated proceeding. That was the moment when Loyd chose to speak to Harry, Draco, and Snape.
They were again seated in the front row on the left side of the courtroom, but Snape's and Draco's attention was on Harry as they waited for him to get to his feet. He'd had a bad night, but had insisted on attending the trial, eager to see Loyd convicted.
"I'm coming for you," Loyd said, getting their attention. "I'll do you first, Snape, slice you up real nice, maybe take an eye, the way you took mine." He raised his chin and turned his head to the right. While his left eye was a striking cobalt blue, his right one was cloudy, sightless, and dissected by the scar that ran from his eyebrow to his chin. "I won't kill you though," he said, "not 'til after I've had a go at these boys. The little blond whippet there? I'll turn him out so hard he won't be able to scream anything but my name. And Potter…"
Brân, having crossed the room after speaking with Fridtjof, jerked the chains around Loyd's neck, cutting him off mid-threat. "What the fuck were you saying to them?"
"Just my farewells." Loyd laughed as Brân motioned for Proudfoot and Dawlish to take the dark wizard out of the courtroom. He then ordered Williamson to look after Snape and the boys. "Be seeing you." Loyd's scar stretched as he smiled, making it look as if his face were split in two.
"Keep walking, Dementor-bait!" Dawlish growled, giving Loyd a hard shove after noting Harry and Draco's shell-shocked expressions; Snape looked murderous, his lips a thin, bloodless line. "I'll make sure you have three or four of those soul-sucking fuckers looking after you once you're back on that rock!"
Loyd acted as if he hadn't heard, chuckling as he was dragged away. Cameras had been flashing since Fridtjof announced the verdict, but that was the photo that ended up on the front page of that evening's Prophet: a grinning, maniacal-looking Loyd with a horrified Draco and Harry in the background.
"He means it," Harry said. "He's going to get out, if they even manage to get him back to Azkaban."
"He won't," said Snape.
"Sirius did!" Harry nearly shouted at him. "Bellatrix and the Lestranges did!"
Snape stared at him, at a loss for words.
"Potter's right," said Draco.
Snape silently cursed himself. Short of keeping them locked in Hogwarts' dungeons, he had done all he believed possible to keep Harry and Draco safe. Now, with just a few words, Loyd had undone much of what he had worked to build since taking the boys as his own, and of what he had hoped to rebuild since Harry woke up in the hospital ward.
Harry, who never recognized danger until it nearly killed him, believed Loyd would hurt them; and Draco, suspicious of everyone, thanks to his upbringing, also took Loyd at his word because Draco knew a lie when he heard it. Loyd had not been lying, and Snape knew it. This was why he had wanted to avoid the trials.
As Williamson left to check the corridor, Snape heard Harry say, "Dad?"
Snape turned. His heart leapt in horror.
"Da –" Harry began, then he fell to the side. He hadn't made it to his feet yet, so the bench caught him when he collapsed.
"Gods…" Draco said, causing Brân to turn around.
The Auror leaned over, scooped Harry into his arms, then lay him on the floor. He then yanked off his outer robes and shoved them under Harry's head. The second he pulled back, the boy's eyes rolled back into his head and his teeth clenched. Brân stumbled to his feet when Snape knocked him aside. The Potions master knelt down to whisper into Harry's ear. Draco knew what he was saying, but Brân couldn't make it out.
"Brân," Williamson called. He was halfway across the courtroom. "I said the coast is clear, man. What's the holdup?"
Once he noticed that Brân and Draco were looking at something on the floor, he dashed over to see what was going on. "Oh, Merlin!" he said upon seeing Harry. "What can I do?"
"Make sure no one comes in," Brân said.
"On it," Williamson said. "Will he be all right?"
Brân looked up at him. "Go, Willie."
"Yeah, yeah." Williamson jogged slowly back across the room.
The young Auror was tired. They all were, having been run ragged since the battle. Some Aurors had fought at Hogwarts, while others had been engaged in other skirmishes around the country, skirmishes that decimated their numbers. When the fighting ended, rounding up Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters was the Ministry's priority, so Aurors were frequently recalled to duty.
Brân had been called more than most, but when he wasn't hunting Voldemort loyalists, he had spent every spare moment in the Great Hall, staying as close to Snape as he could while the man watched Harry sleep. And although he'd been mortified when it happened, he was glad to have been there when Snape collapsed from exhaustion. It had given him an excuse to hold the man without a sharp word or cold glare directed at him.
Despite Snape's past as a Death Eater, Brân admired him. During the two-year-long Auror program, cadets were required to study Voldemort and his followers, so Brân knew that history, and he knew that the majority of Voldemort's followers had earned the scorn and suspicion of the DMLE, and of the wizarding world. But he'd had a different take on Snape, mostly because Snape had taken over the Potions master post from Horace Slughorn in 1981, Brân's third year.
Many around the school, including Brân's rational Ravenclaw housemates, had whispered about the new Potions master and Head of Slytherin. Some didn't believe he was human; others believed he was only teaching at Hogwarts because he'd turned traitor and needed Dumbledore's protection. Brân had known that Snape was no vampire, and while he had agreed that the man had informed on Voldemort to Dumbledore, he didn't believe Snape had done it to save himself.
As an Auror, Brân's life depended on his ability to gauge people, and he thought himself a good judge of character. Kingsley had said as much when Brân was still a cadet, telling him it was an invaluable skill for an Auror. It's why Brân believed Snape had gone to Dumbledore to try to save someone else. Over the years, Brân had come face-to-face with evil men. He'd always had an immediate, visceral reaction upon meeting them, one that left him cold and afraid. While Snape's harsh attitude was challenging, Brân recognized it as a coping mechanism, because despite the man's clear and utter rejection of Voldemort and his beliefs, Snape was a target of contempt.
The sound of Harry softly responding to Snape refocused Brân's attention. The boy's speech was horribly slurred, but the seizure seemed to be over.
"Is there another way out of here?" Draco asked.
"No," Brân, said. "I'll have to Disillusion you if you want to get Harry out unobserved."
"Yes," Snape said quietly. "Do it."
*SP
The Leaky Cauldron, July 1997 (23)
Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Snape stayed with the boys in their room, watching Harry sleep. Four hours later the Gryffindor woke up. When Snape called, Tom set up a small, round table for them in the room. Thomasin brought up roast beef, mashed potatoes, green salad, and treacle tart soon after.
"Was a bad one, eh?" Harry sheepishly asked as they picked at their food. Draco and Snape had been so quiet during the meal, Harry felt something needed to be said.
"Have any of them been good?" Draco shot back.
"Draco," Snape said, tired.
"Well, I don't think he should be joking about it. It's horrid, watching it. What if one is so bad that he…"
"What?" Harry said. "Dies?"
Draco rounded on him. "Potter, you're not the one who has to watch your eyes rolling into the back of your head, watch you lose your ability to speak, to control your body!"
"That's right, Malfoy! I'm just the one who has to go through it!"
"Enough!" Snape slammed his palm on the table.
"Excuse me." Draco flung his napkin onto the table, then went to throw himself onto his bed and stare at the canopy. A moment later Snape left for his room.
Harry sighed and pushed his plate towards the center of the table. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I just don't know how else to deal with it. I don't want it to be this morbid thing, though, something we don't talk about. I just…I wish it didn't happen, you know?" He sighed again. "I wish I was all right."
"You are," Draco said. "You're alive."
*SP
The Leaky Cauldron, July 1997 (24)
BILLY LOYD ESCAPES!
Harry stared at the Daily Prophet lying on the floor of the narrow hallway outside his and Draco's room. He reread the headline, then watched Aurors Nikolas Proudfoot and John Dawlish dragging Billy Loyd out of Courtroom Ten in the accompanying photo. To avoid the agony of bending over (his body always ached terribly after a seizure), Harry charmed the newspaper to fly into his hand. He then read the first few paragraphs of the story:
Billy Loyd, a former Ministry Auror, and alleged Death Eater, went missing from the Ministry last evening, moments after leaving the courtroom whilst Aurors prepared to return him to Azkaban. Loyd's trial ended Tuesday afternoon after he was found guilty of attacking Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade last February, and of sabotaging the Ministry's Floos during the Final Battle at Hogwarts in June. The Aurors responsible for transporting Loyd to Azkaban claim to have been immobilized by a curse seconds before Loyd disappeared.
"He shouldn't have been in prison anyway," said a wizard who refused to offer his name, yet identified himself as an acquaintance of Loyd's. "He masqueraded as a Death Eater to help the Ministry's fight against the Dark Lo…er, You-Know-Who."
The wizard went on to mention former Death Eaters Bram Nott and Severus Snape: "Nott says he turned coat. Snape claims the same. Spying for the Order. If you can believe it of those two, why not of Billy Loyd?"
When asked for a response, Hog's Head proprietor and witness to the Hogsmeade assault, Aberforth Dumbledore, said: "I was there when Loyd attacked those children, when he fired curses at my grandson, Harry, and marked my boy, Severus. Anyone who claims he was working both sides is delusional, or just damn stupid."
Harry stopped reading. He wasn't surprised. He couldn't even pretend to be because people like Loyd and Lucius Malfoy always found a way out. He looked at the photo again. Inexplicably, the Prophet's editors had used the same photo from the front page of yesterday's evening edition with the headline LIFE! flashing above it.
Harry let the paper float to the floor, then closed his eyes and leaned against the doorjamb. Gods, he wanted to go home.
*SP
London, July 1997 (24)
Later that morning, Harry met with a solicitor at Burkes, Fleischmann, and Borgin.
One evening after dinner in the Great Hall, Andromeda Tonks approached him about buying Grimmauld Place. Harry had thought it odd, but after talking with her, he reconsidered. He hadn't planned on living there or doing anything with it except perhaps letting it become even more decrepit, but he still found that he'd had to think about it. Sirius had willed that house to him. It was a gift—one that was run-down, infested by dark magic, and inhabited by a demented house-elf—but still a gift, and Harry never took gifts for granted.
Harry first met Andromeda the evening he and Snape were making their way back to the dungeons after Dumbledore's funeral. He hadn't seen her amongst the crowd at the service, but as she approached them, he'd had to tamp down a white-hot burst of fear and anger. She was the spitting image of her eldest sister, Bellatrix. Andromeda had chestnut colored hair instead of black, gray eyes instead of violet, but other than that, she could have been Bellatrix's twin.
After Snape made the introductions, Harry was relieved to find that the sisters' personalities miles different. Bellatrix had worn her madness and hatred like a badge of honor; Andromeda exuded warmth, but she had an edge about her, too. Harry suspected her time at the Riddle House might have something to do with that. Or it might not. Regardless, like other survivors of the battle, Andromeda seemed skittish, guarded. Her eyes took in her surroundings all at once as she sized people up, trying to determine if they were a threat.
The night they spoke, she reminisced about summers at Grimmauld Place spent looking after her young cousins. Regulus, quiet and reserved, had preferred being on his own, leaving her and Sirius to become close during those visits. Despite the eight-year age gap, they had a lot in common.
Contrary to her parents' wishes, Andromeda had wanted to live on her own before getting married—if she got married—and she had wanted a career, possibly as a healer or teacher. Like Sirius, she hadn't wanted anything to do with carrying on the tradition of marrying another Pure-blood to ensure that the Black bloodline remain Toujours Pur. This was especially true once she met Ted Tonks.
Days before Sirius fled the manor for good, a screech owl from Andromeda's father, Cygnus, delivered a note declaring that Andromeda was dead to them. Sirius had laughed himself sick when his father burned Andromeda's name off the family tapestry. With one stroke, Andromeda had joined the ranks of the disowned, her name charred because she had married a Mudblood.
"My beautiful cousin is free and living amongst Muggles with her Muggle-born husband, like a proper blood-traitor," a grinning Sirius had told James after moving into the Potters' home.
Andromeda had felt mortified and betrayed when she learned that Bellatrix had killed him. She and her sister hadn't been particularly close, and they hadn't spoken for years, since before Bellatrix was jailed, but they were still sisters, and Sirius, their cousin.
"Nymphadora mentioned how close you and Sirius had become," Andromeda had told Harry as they sat in Snape's sitting room. "I'd wanted to contact you after that night, after the fight at the Ministry, but Dumbledore discouraged it. And then with Nymphadora and Ted… I just lost track. In November, I got involved with the Order and took on looking after the children, and then the kidnapping…"
"Don't," Harry said, "Please, I understand. Sirius never had much to say about his family—that was nice, at least. He only ever spoke well of his friends. But he said you were his favorite cousin."
Andromeda laughed, a husky sound that reminded Harry of Tonks. "He, James, and Remus, they were ridiculously close. I must say, I was a bit hurt when he stopped writing to me after his first year. I never knew what he was getting up to or how he was getting on. I suppose I was too much of a reminder of what he wanted to forget. James, Peter, and Remus, they didn't have that baggage of being family."
Harry understood Sirius well in that moment. He knew what it meant to choose a family instead of being forced to live with the cruelty of others simply because they shared a bloodline.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, at a loss for something else meaningful to say.
"Oh, darling, don't be," Andromeda said, patting his hand. "It was ages ago, and family history is not the only reason I want the manor. Now that I have Stella, Frannie, and Jack to look after, I want a fresh start in a different place."
Stella, Frannie, and Jack had been among the children held captive at the Riddle House. Their parents had been killed before the Final Battle, but neither Dumbledore, Snape, nor Andromeda thought it helpful to mention it during their captivity. Harry met them a few days after Andromeda broached the topic of buying the manor.
Stella and Jack, both six years of age, had been soft-spoken and withdrawn. They held hands, clinging to one another as if afraid they might be forcibly separated. Stella's mother, Janice, had gone missing the same day as Stella while the girl was walking home from school; Janice's body was found two days later about a mile from the Riddle House. Jack's parents had been killed in the cellar of the Riddle House, a rotting wood floor separating them from their son as they were tortured for information they didn't have by Death Eaters who had mistaken them for Order members.
Frannie, aged ten, had been more talkative, but in a nervous sort of way, as if silence frightened her. Her older sister, Jocelyn, had been her guardian since their mother died while giving birth to Frannie. Jocelyn had been fiercely outspoken against Voldemort, and as a writer for The Quibbler, like Xenophilious Lovegood, she had been jailed in Nurmengard, but unlike Xenophilious, she hadn't survived it.
As Andromeda and Harry emerged from Borgin's office, Snape held out his arm, prompting her to loop her free hand through it. Her walking-stick tapped lightly against the floor as she moved. She had a limp, thanks to a Death Eater's curse hurling her through a broken window of the Riddle House the night of the Final Battle.
Snape's dark eyes scanned her face. "You're looking well."
Andromeda smiled. "Then why are you eyeing me as if you expect me to keel over in a dead faint?" she said as they continued down the corridor to where Draco was walking toward them.
"Habit."
Andromeda laughed. "Draco, darling," she said, reaching for the boy as he approached.
"Aunt Andromeda, you look beautiful." Draco stepped forward to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
"Charming thing," she said, kissing him back. "Well, now that Harry and I have finished up our dull bit of business, I would so love to treat you to lunch. Nymphadora and I used to go to Yalla Yalla when she had the time to spare. It's a Muggle restaurant, and it's absolutely divine."
"Another time perhaps?" Draco said. "I have to sign off on the documents concerning Mother's estate this afternoon."
"Oh!" Andromeda brought a hand to her chest. "Well, darling, I know you have Severus and Harry to support you, but would you like me to go along as well?"
"Thank you, but, no. It's something I'd rather do on my own."
"If you wish," she said, with a concerned frown.
"Perhaps, you and the children will have dinner with us at the cottage, soon," Snape said.
Andromeda smiled. "Oh, Severus, that would be lovely. Thank you. Erm, before you go." She pulled Snape to the side, out of earshot of the boys. "Loyd…"
Snape ran a hand over his face.
"When You-Know-Who returned, Narcissa contacted me," Andromeda said. "I hadn't heard from my sister since the day Ted and I eloped. When I received her letter, I tried not to think about how deeply desperate she much have been to write it. Granted, my sisters and I weren't what most people would consider close, and while I'm not proud of who they chose to marry and how they chose to live their lives, they were my sisters, my family. Narcissa…she loved her son, and if anything happened to her, he was supposed to come to me. Now," Andromeda raised a hand when Snape opened his mouth to speak, "I quite understand why you took him in, and why he's so attached to you, but, Severus, he's…he's so terribly vulnerable, what with Lucius on the run, and people still have their horrid, ridiculous prejudices. I worry."
"You've every right to, you're his aunt. But he's my son, Andromeda, and I'll do what I must to keep him safe."
Andromeda squeezed his hand. "I've no doubt of that, truly. And anyway, he's of age, legally bound to no one. Even if he weren't, I don't see the use in fighting about it." She sighed. "Thanks to Lucius, he hardly knows me... But, if he needs anything, and I mean anything, Severus, I want to know."
"Of course."
Andromeda looked back to see Harry and Draco near the lift where Brân was standing sentry. Harry said something that made Draco smile.
"Loyd had inside help, didn't he?" she said.
"Shacklebolt is looking into it."
Andromeda snorted softly. "Indeed. Well, the last thing he needs is to have everyone questioning his judgment, especially as Loyd—along with my daughter—was one of his recruits." The mention of Kingsley seemed to irritate her. "Regardless, you know…I've been wondering if the Order shouldn't continue."
Snape raised his brows. "Is that why you want Grimmauld Place?"
"You think me ridiculous for considering it?"
"No."
Andromeda sighed. "Mostly I want it for the children. If it's as dark and forbidding as I remember, perhaps I can do something with it, make it less gloomy, more habitable. I-I can't be at the house I shared with Ted, where we raised Nymphadora. Ted died there… It's too much, and the manor, well, no one else outside of the remaining Order members knows about it. I imagine it continues to be one of the best-kept secrets, if not the best-kept secret, in the wizarding world."
"Mm."
"As for Shacklebolt—I don't mean to give the impression that he's not up for being the minister. Nymphadora respected him, got on well with him, I believe, but, do you trust him?"
"I trust three people. Two of them are my sons."
Andromeda gave him a grim smile, then nodded.
"What are you two so serious about?" Draco asked, coming to stand beside his aunt.
"Dinner plans," she said and enveloped him in a hug.
"Oh?"
Andromeda released Draco and looked at him. "Once the children and I are settled, we'll have you all over for dinner."
"That sounds lovely," Draco said, "but that's not what you were talking about."
"Well, what do you imagine we were discussing?"
"Loyd's escape," said Harry, from beside Snape.
Andromeda sighed. "Guilty," she said. "But I've every hope he'll be recaptured and that he'll get what he deserves."
Harry's right eyebrow shot upward. "I don't."
Andromeda looked him, then at Snape. "Huh. The resemblance is uncanny," she said, then turned her attention back to Draco. "That's good," she said.
Confused, Draco said, "What?"
"You can't abide a liar," Andromeda said. "And you're not a child. I've no right to treat you like one. Forgive me?"
"Of course."
"Perhaps you'll come and spend a few days with me and the children so you all can get to know one another? Nymphadora… well, you and she never spent any time together."
"I'd love to, really, but there's so much to do. Summer's been shortened and school…"
"Of course, darling. It's simply something to think about."
"Come to my birthday party next week," Harry said. "Stay longer than just for dinner."
"Severus?" Andromeda said.
Snape nodded.
"Thank you, Harry. It's very kind of you to offer." Harry blushed when she kissed his cheek. "Well, you look after one another, all right?" Andromeda gave Harry a gentle hug, then kissed and hugged Draco again.
"Always," Draco said.
*SP