Chapter Nine - Viniculum Familia
Wednesday dawned fair and clear, and Harry decided to walk to work, leaving Malfoy behind to plan his next step. It was early enough for the streets to be relatively quiet, and he was in good mood when he arrived at the Ministry. This feeling of all being well with the world lasted until exactly quarter past ten, which was the time Robards called him into his office.
"Harry," he began, followed by a loud clearing of the throat. Inwardly, Harry groaned: this usually meant that Robards had some form of disagreeable news to impart. "I gather that Draco Malfoy has been working for you recently." Harry nodded, unsure about where this was heading. "Well, you've read about the pockets of wild magic that we've picked up on in Yorkshire? We're going to have to bring Malfoy in. Now, I know that he can be a little... difficult, and that you two have had your fair share of history, but however hard it may have been to work with him recently, I'm afraid that you are going to have to do so again."
"He's actually still working for me," said Harry, and sleeping in the room next to mine while I dream about touching him.
"Oh, I wasn't aware of that," Robards frowned. "But we need him here, this is an urgent matter." It was not a request.
"I—" Harry looked at his boss, and realised that he had no choice. "I'll make alternative arrangements for the private curse-breaking, sir."
"Good," said Robards. "And, Harry, I expect civil behaviour from you at all times. I don't want any personal issues to cloud either of you in your ability to do your jobs." Harry managed to stop himself from snorting at the last minute: he doubted that Robards meant quite the type of personal issues he was currently wrestling with.
"Is that all, sir? Only perhaps I should go and owl Malfoy to let him know—"
"No need, Harry, I've already done so," said Robards, and at this, Harry's face fell. This was definitely going to result in some prickliness. "He says he should be here after lunch: I've called for a full briefing in the conference room at half one." Robards picked up some rolls of parchment and began to unroll them. Recognising this for the dismissal it was, Harry got up and left the room.
Harry arrived at the briefing a few minutes late, which earned him another frown from Robards. He knew that it was worth him being late when he realised that Malfoy was already there: Harry knew this before even entering the room, due to the high volume at which Malfoy was delivering his words.
"I really don't know how any of you can stand this swill, let alone expect other people to drink it too—"
"Prick" mouthed Ernie, but Harry shook his head slightly, and slid the hot cup of speciality coffee in his hands across the table over to Malfoy, who stopped, mid-tirade, to pick it up and take a sip.
"Thank you, Potter," he said, and his scowl softening a fraction even though it remained, marring his handsome features. But Harry was mostly only aware of the tiny moment of time in which Malfoy's fingertips had touched Harry's hand with a spark of connection.
"Anything to stop you acting like a complete prick, Malfoy," Harry responded, his hand tingling. Malfoy flashed him a humourless smile.
"Very funny, you kno—"
"Well now that we're ready to start," said Robards, as Ernie, Ron, and two other Aurors, Sarah Michaels and Nina Fletcher stared between Harry and Malfoy, "Let's get the main points of this case laid out."
Ron's face almost matched Malfoy's for its look of horror, and although he quickly collected himself and began to speak, he still looked a little spooked. Occasionally he snuck quick glances at both Harry and Malfoy, which Harry chose to return with the blandest of looks.
"We've been getting reports of pockets of wild magic, all over the north of England," Ron said. "A farmer lost some sheep last week, and the Obliviators have been kept busy. We've set up some Muggle Repellant Charms, but the problems is that these pockets of magic spring up with no warning, last a few days, then destabilise and disappear."
"We need to get to the bottom of what's causing them," said Robards. "There is evidence pointing to the likelihood that a witch or wizard is behind these incidents."
"I thought you said it was wild magic, sir?" asked Harry. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Malfoy watching him, nodding almost imperceptibly.
"Something seems to be... unleashing the wild magic," said Sarah. She was about ten years older than Harry, and a good Auror. "We've just got back from Yorkshire, and there were Dark magic residues alongside the wild magic. We couldn't tell though, if it was from a spell, ritual, or object." Harry liked Sarah: she had been an Auror for years, and he trusted her opinion. He turned to Nina to see if she knew anything else.
"I don't have much more to add," Nina said. "Except that so far these magical incidences seem to have settled to an area just west of Kendal with a fifty-mile radius."
"So you want me to come to try to break a spell?" said Malfoy. "If it is one – or break a curse on a Dark artefact, if one is being used as a focus for all this?"
"Yes," said Robards, and he sighed. "I know it's not much to go on, but I think we can catch whoever is causing these disturbances, but in the meantime this wild magic is too dangerous to not try to neutralise it."
"I'd rather not go in blind," said Malfoy, "and you haven't told me much."
"I can give you all the data we managed to get this week," said Sarah. "I ran a variety of Revealing Charms and Searching Spells." Malfoy nodded, and gave her a small smile. Instantly, Harry felt the injustice of this: he should be the only recipient of those smiles. He scowled at Sarah, but she didn't seem to notice.
Malfoy spent the rest of the day with Sarah and Nina, going over their report, spell data and a map of the area. Harry watched them from the edge of the room, unable to keep his eyes off them, off Malfoy.
"Harry," Ron said, sitting down next to him. "Can you put your tongue away for a second and answer a question for me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, turning to face his friend and inwardly cursing his cheeks for heating. Ron just shook his head, and dived into a query about surveillance patterns which kept Harry distracted for a while. Once Ron had moved on, Harry returned to his own surreptitious surveillance. It was... strange, not being the one talking to Malfoy. Harry felt a knot of tension, deep in his gut, as Malfoy talked and occasionally laughed with the other Aurors. Perversely, Harry was happiest when someone pissed Malfoy off. Watching him deliver his one-liners kept the odd feeling of tightness in his chest at bay, for just long enough for him to get on with his work.
o~O~o
"Malfoy," Harry said, and three heads looked up at him. "I know you're busy, but it's almost six and I'd quite like to go home now." He saw Sarah's eyebrows shoot up, but he remained focused on Malfoy.
"Have you been standing around waiting for me to finish?" said Malfoy. "You only needed to say."
"Yes, I know," said Harry. "I'm saying now: it's time to go home."
"Fine," said Malfoy. "Ladies, you'll have to excuse me," he said.
As they walked away, Harry could hear the whispering start already. "That'll keep them busy for a while," he said.
"You're loving this, aren't you?" Malfoy said.
"Maybe," said Harry. It wasn't really his colleagues he was enjoying scandalising though: Malfoy's cheeks had flamed up most satisfactorily. "Actually, no one ever really comments on my private life. I think the assumption is that I don't have one," he sighed.
The Atrium was less busy than it would have been at five, but there were still quite a few people about, heads down as they made their way home. Malfoy kept his voice low as he turned to Harry. "Oh, do you actually have one then? Only I haven't seen any sign of one yet," he said, his face carefully blank.
"I—" began Harry. "Don't be such a wanker, Malfoy," he said, giving Malfoy a little push. Malfoy turned to glare at him. He shook his head, but his eyes were bright and Harry was sure that a smile was lurking.
"It seems that would be a little pot and kettle of you," Malfoy said. "If anyone's a wanker here, I bet it's you."
"Prick," said Harry, but then he caught Malfoy's eye, and they both laughed. "Let's just get back to Grimmauld Place," he said.
They stepped up to the Floo bank together, both still smiling.
o~O~o
After dinner in the kitchen together again – a dinner which had left Harry trying to surreptitiously readjust his trousers, after watching Malfoy lick and suck the last traces of juice from his fingers when he'd eaten a pear at the end – Malfoy suggested that it was time to tackle Walburga.
The hallway was quiet, apart from the dull ticking of a clock from another room. Malfoy pulled back the curtain, and sent a Relashio towards the sleeping portrait, the fiery sparks waking Mrs Black so suddenly that for just a second, she was too shocked to speak. The silence didn't last though, as she looked between the two of them. "The half-blood pretender and the stinking Malfoy!" she said. "What have you done?" Her eyes widened, and fear crept on to her face. "You have changed something within the house. You—"
"I am merely trying to fix what you have broken, aunt dear," said Malfoy, as if he were in a shop returning an ill-fitting robe.
"You have no right! Only a Black may call this their home, and only a real Black may change the spells guarding this, our home."
"I am a Black," said Malfoy. His voice was still utterly calm, but it was also firm as granite.
"In blood if not name," murmured Harry, remembering what the snakes had told him. Walburga glared at him.
"Filthy Parselmouth pretender," she said, and something in Harry snapped. He had been called enough names in his life, and he didn't want to have to tolerate another day, in his own home, of this abuse.
"This is my house," he hissed. At his words the coiled serpent brooch on her bosom uncurled and began to slither across her chest. Harry felt a cool hand on his arm.
"That's enough, Potter," Malfoy said, quietly. "I'd appreciate it if you let me do my job, without interruption."
"But—" Harry started. Malfoy squeezed his arm again, and Harry fell silent. Malfoy turned back to the portrait, but kept his hold on Harry, as if he were some high-spirited creature, likely to escape at the smallest provocation. Or perhaps as if holding on for support. The silver snake had disappeared, and Walburga had moved to one side of the frame.
"Relevarum Stemma," said Malfoy, his wand tracking an angular shape through the air.
"My mother is Narcissa Black. Her father Cygnus Black was your own brother, Walburga Black. You are the daughter of my grandfather, Pollux Black." As Malfoy spoke, he made a stroke for each person and a line appeared for each name, forming a ghostly family tree in the air. "You had two sons, Sirius and Regulus Black." The lines spread to include Sirius and his brother. "And Harry Potter was like a son to Sirius: he was his chosen heir." Harry watched, but no line appeared to represent him. Malfoy pointed his wand over towards Harry, giving him one look which seemed to just say, trust me, so Harry nodded: of course he trusted Malfoy. "Viniculum Familia" Malfoy said, moving his wand in a looping gesture between the tree, and Harry. A faint line grew between Harry and the family tree, blinking in and out of existence.
"No!" screamed Walburga. Harry cast a Silencing Charm, and Malfoy tightened his grip on his arm.
Malfoy kept his wand arm aloft, until the line between Harry's name and Sirius's had brightened, although it still wavered slightly, but it was there.
"Potter, do you think that you could say 'I am Harry Potter, heir of Sirius Black,' in Parseltongue?" said Malfoy, his voice straining with the effort of maintaining both spells. Harry cast his eyes about for a snake, wishing now he hadn't already spoken to the one in the painting. He glanced over at the dining room door and its coiled snake doorknob, and turned back to Malfoy, and repeated the words in Parseltongue. He heard a chorused hissing sound, as the snakes of the house responded; he also felt the shudder that passed through Malfoy at the sound. His line on the tree in the air was still not as bright as the others, but now it did not flicker at all: it had transformed slightly, to become a slender serpent, the mouth hanging onto his name, the tail curled tight around the name above, Sirius.
Looking up, Harry noticed that Walburga was no longer trying to scream or talk. A look of twisted hate was still on her face, but she sat still, her mouth shut.
"Finite Incantatum" Malfoy said, ending Harry's Silencing Charm and they both braced themselves for the inevitable barrage of insults. Nothing happened. The family tree in the air faded, and Malfoy exchanged a glance with Harry and stepped forward.
"Aunt dear," he said, addressing the portrait. "May I enquire as to your wellbeing today?" She frowned, and blinked a few times.
"Young Nephew," she said, her voice stiff, a hint of venom still audible. She lowered her head in a half-bow. "It seems that I must... welcome you both into the family. I– I think that at this moment, I would like a rest, if you don't mind." She turned her face away from them both.
Harry and Malfoy stepped away from the silent portrait, leaving her scowling at the empty hallway, and made their way back up to the drawing room. Harry went to trace the newly-restored names on the tapestry.
"There's just one more thing to do," said Malfoy, his quiet voice making Harry jump: he hadn't noticed Malfoy coming to stand behind him. Harry watched as another Galleon became a strand of gilt thread, hanging in the air, then weaving in and out of the fabric. When Malfoy stood back, the name 'Harry Potter' was now embroidered below that of Sirius. Harry reached out to touch the two names. A thin snake curled between them, joining them loosely together.
"Thank you," he whispered. He remembered when he had first felt that burning surge of hope, that maybe, just maybe, Sirius could be the family he had lost. He stared at the names, his fingers tracing them both, with a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes.
When he turned back, Malfoy was sitting, making some notes on a piece of parchment balanced on his lap. He stopped when Harry came to sit opposite him.
"You—"
"We—"
They both spoke at once. Harry stopped and looked at Malfoy, trying to work out what he was thinking. Harry couldn't tell, but he did notice how tired Malfoy looked, his face pale, even for him, and shadows under his eyes.
"I think I've done what I can here, Potter," said Malfoy. He looked down to the parchment he was holding, and tapped it with his free hand. "I've got to go over all the figures, but I'll owl you the bill. It– it's time for me to go home now."
"It's late," said Harry. He didn't want Malfoy to go.
"Pansy won't mind," said Malfoy, and he stood and began to gather his his papers.
"Pansy?" asked Harry, confused.
"Pansy. Who I live with," said Malfoy. "She's working nights, so she's not even at home." Pansy? Home? Harry felt a surge of panic rush through him.
"Oh, I didn't know you were..." said Harry, his face heating thanks to a combination of embarrassment and stomach-dropping disappointment.
"What, Pansy and I?" Malfoy put down his papers and turned to face Harry properly. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter! I share a flat with her. Did you honestly think that we were shacked up together?" Malfoy shook his head. And then he stopped, and looked directly at Harry.
"You did say you lived together..." said Harry, but his words trailed off as Malfoy maintained his intense gaze.
"Maybe I've got you wrong," Malfoy said. Harry held his breath. "Maybe you really are as thick as two short planks."
"Hey!" said Harry.
"You don't seem able to see the obvious, Potter," said Malfoy. "And if that's not stupid, then I don't know what it is."
"Maybe I'm just confused!" said Harry. "You can be confusing sometimes." And hot as hell, and totally kissable right about now. "Or maybe I'm just blindly optimistic," he said, and he stood and took two steps forward before he could change his mind. He reached out, touching Malfoy on the cheek, moving his hand to grasp the edge of his jaw. Malfoy's skin was warm, and Harry could feel the sharp fuzz of the finest layer of stubble beneath his fingertips. Harry moved closer still.
"Potter–" said Malfoy, and Harry could see his pale eyelashes descend with each slow blink of his eyelids. Malfoy's lips parted with a slow, ragged intake of breath, and Harry closed the remaining distance between them and brought his mouth to Malfoy's. He gently sucked on the top lip before settling into the kiss which had been building in him since he'd first seen Malfoy, leant against the railings outside.
His hand slid back, moving into the hair at the top of Malfoy's neck, while his other hand wrapped around Malfoy's hip, pulling him close. Malfoy smelled of soap and skin and man, and he kissed... he kissed as if he meant it. They stood for moment, close, no longer kissing, while Harry stroked Malfoy's nape, the steady pressure of Malfoy's hand on his lower back; Harry just enjoying the warmth curling down his spine.
"Malfoy—"
"Please, Potter... don't" whispered Malfoy, falling back a fraction and then reaching up and removing Harry's hand, bringing it down between them. Harry didn't understand. He was still tingling from just one kiss. Didn't Malfoy feel it too?
"But—" he said. He didn't know what he was going to say, he just knew that he wanted to kiss Malfoy again, and soon.
"I don't think it's a good idea." Malfoy said. He sighed, and the eyes that met Harry's were filled with regret. "It's been... intense, the past week or two, and you've only just been joined to the Black family and this house. Get used to it before rushing into anything you might regret. I'm afraid that you might just want... this... because of some after-effect of all this magic." Whatever his words though, Malfoy's hands were still holding Harry's, and he looked down, surprised, at their joined hands, before springing back and letting go.
"I– it's not—" began Harry, but Malfoy shook his head.
"There's too much history. It... it's too complicated. Maybe if we had a different past..." Malfoy trailed off and swallowed. "But we don't." He hesitated for a second, and that was enough to give Harry hope.
"Malfoy, this isn't just the magic, and the history doesn't matter. I like you," Harry said.
"We've got to work together, it's a recipe for disaster," said Malfoy, but his actions belied his words, as he moved slightly, towards Harry.
"I think we can work together just fine," said Harry. He leant in for another kiss, but paused before his face quite touched Malfoy's, giving him the chance to pull away again. He didn't, and instead it was Malfoy's hand which curled around Harry's robes, pulling him close.
"I do... quite like you too," said Malfoy, and Harry could feel the words, hot against his skin. And then the air was cold on Harry, and his arms were empty. Malfoy was halfway across the room by the time Harry had realised what was happening. "Not now," said Malfoy, in a low, pleading whisper. "I can't. I– I need to know that this is real." He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, and focused instead on picking up his things.
Harry could have howled in frustration. Instead a tiny whimper escaped his lips, before he clamped them shut and held his hands tight.
"Okay," he said. "You wouldn't be.. you, if you made this easy."
"Thank you," said Malfoy. "I think I'm going to leave now. Could you ask Kreacher to bring the rest of my things?"
Harry nodded, not really trusting himself to speak.
That night, Harry moved into the back bedroom, and slept in a bed that smelled like a blond coffee nut, who acted like a prick most of the time but was also clever and funny, and turned the most wonderful shade of pink when Harry spoke to snakes. Harry was, as he had said, confused by Malfoy; but the thing he kept coming back to, again and again, was the feeling of Malfoy's lips and his mouth moving against his own, and the certainty that Malfoy had kissed him back.