No Light Without Shadows
by Draeconin
See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.
Chapter Nineteen
Dumbledore was . . . disgruntled. Yes, he decided as he tucked into his meal, that word described his mood to a 'T'. His Golden Boy, the child he'd groomed for so many years, had slipped his leash – and the headmaster was anything but pleased about it. He had thought that he would have been able to make the boy feel guilty enough to come to heel, but it hadn't happened. If anything, his tactics seemed to have backfired on him. He frowned, then his expression morphed, attaining a genial joviality he really didn't feel.
"My," he remarked to Minerva, "the house elves really outdid themselves today, didn't they?"
"What," Pansy asked grimly, "is that?"
They had been exchanging small talk at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall at lunch when a glint of light off metal had drawn Pansy's attention to Draco's left hand.
Following her glare, Draco saw what her gaze was fixated on, and surprised the few who were watching with a rather misty smile. It morphed into a more usual superior smirk as he looked back up to meet Pansy's gaze – an expression they were far more used to.
"My wedding ring, of course," Draco replied with slightly malicious smugness.
That statement drew the attention of several others within hearing distance, although most of those were savvy enough to pretend not to be listening in.
"I know you think you're queer, dear," Pansy said smarmily, "but are you telling me you actually married that speccy git?"
Draco ignored the insults and replied, "Quite some time ago, actually. We just got around to registering it today."
"And, my dear," Draco said sarcastically, "perhaps it is you who needs spectacles. Harry hasn't worn them at all this year."
Pansy ignored Draco's last comment while inwardly acknowledging the truth of it, and addressed herself to the marriage issue.
"You're too young," the girl said flatly. "And so is Potter."
"We bonded," Draco replied with a practised shrug that said it was a minor thing, all the while knowing it was anything but minor.
"You bonded," Pansy echoed emotionlessly.
"You bonded," she repeated doubtfully. "Willingly?" the girl asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"It was a bit of an accident, actually," Draco replied nonchalantly.
"And you didn't tell your best friend about this so-called 'marriage'? Why?" She was almost sure Draco was having her on. At least she was going to act on that assumption.
"It just rather . . . happened," Draco replied. "I don't think you would have wished to be there. We weren't exactly in a fit state for guests."
"Very romantic, I'm sure," Pansy said dryly.
Anything but, Draco thought, but nodded his agreement anyway. A lust-driven vow while in the act of being very thoroughly buggered was hardly romantic. But so far he'd managed not to speak an outright lie.
"Harry's rather . . . masterful," he said out loud. Draco couldn't help but melt a bit at some of the memories that statement evoked, but he rapidly brought himself back under control.
"Simply swept you off your feet, did he?" the blonde girl inquired, finally allowing a hint of doubt and sarcasm into her voice.
Draco didn't miss it. "Why Pansy, dear – are you doubting my word?"
Draco's tone and the glint in his eyes warned Pansy that she was in danger of overstepping her limits. Those people Draco considered 'friends' had a little more leeway with him, but friends or no, Draco wouldn't hesitate to hex someone who ignored his warning and continued to vex him.
"You know I'd never call you a liar to your face, Draco," the girl said with saccharine sweetness.
Harry walked up behind the two at the end of the Slytherin table furthest from the Head Table where the most important Slytherins sat – where they had the least chance of being overheard by authority. This was exactly opposite the places of honour for the other three houses, who saw being close to the Head Table as being more indicative of importance.
"See that you don't at any other time either, 'dear'," Draco sneered. "You wouldn't like me after I heard about it." He didn't need to add that, with his connexions, he would hear about any such thing, and likely sooner rather than later.
Harry had just been to give Mister Weasley a floo-call to inform him of his and Draco's circumstances, explaining that the bond had been deemed a marriage. Since it was now registered at the Ministry, word would quickly spread, and Harry had wanted to break the news before the grapevine distorted things all out of proportion. He trusted Mister Weasley to inform the rest of his family. Harry would have done it, but he was just a tad bit worried about Mrs Weasley's reaction. He doubted she would have given him time to explain, and he couldn't fail to inform her personally if he told everyone else in the family.
"Hello, love," Harry said, leaning over his husband to kiss his cheek.
Pansy's face paled as she saw a new ring on Harry's hands.
Draco's hand came up to caress Harry's hand, paying special attention to that ring and taking great pleasure in rubbing the fact of it in his friend's face.
"Believe me now, Pansy, dear?" Draco inquired, his voice darkly satisfied.
"What's going on?" Harry asked as he seated himself. A plate appeared in front of him containing a Monte Cristo sandwich1, green salad and crisps – although in recognition of the croque-monsieur from which the sandwich came, it was drizzled with a cheese sauce, necessitating eating it with knife and fork.
"Pansy was just inquiring of the new jewellery. Seems she wasn't quite satisfied with my explanation," Draco informed him.
"Oh?" Harry didn't look up from his sandwich as he cut the first bite. "We just registered it this morning, but we've been married since just before we returned to school," he told Pansy.
"So Draco was saying," Pansy replied faintly, which did catch Harry's attention. She looked a little wan, but otherwise all right.
Harry frowned slightly, decided it was none of his business, and returned his attention to his sandwich.
Snape had refused to let them go to Diagon Alley to shop for the rings. So once the obnoxious man had left them in the dungeons, Harry had shadow-jumped them to a dark corner of The Leaky Cauldron's common room.
Unfortunately it hadn't been unoccupied, but the old woman slumped at the table there had been too pissed to see straight, and with the lack of the sound of apparation, had assumed that she'd dozed off for a minute. She'd merely grunted a "Geroff! Away wi' yer," at them, and then slumped back into her own dark thoughts.
Harry and Draco had made their way to a jewellers without trouble. The simple, elegant design amongst all the precious and magical stone settings had almost screamed to them that they belonged to the newly registered couple.
While there, Harry had also taken the opportunity to expand his wardrobe and re-order his dragonhide items, while Draco had finally picked out form-slimming maternity robes that would expand as he did. They had to be black for school of course, but he'd also ordered a half dozen robes in various tasteful colour combinations for wear outside of Hogwarts.
Pansy had rather hoped that Potter was just a part of Draco's 'experimentation phase', although that had gone on rather a long while, but . . . She gathered her scattered wits. If this was what Draco wanted, then she'd support him – and Potter, she added as an afterthought.
It was fortunate she hadn't been pining in a corner waiting for Draco to notice her in a romantic way. She had a small stable of admirers to play with. Pansy was sure she could get them to distract her from her disappointment.
"Congratulations," she said sincerely, albeit with a rather pale, drawn smile.
"Thank you," Harry replied.
Draco was watching his friend closely. He had suspected that there was more to their previous charade of boyfriend/girlfriend on her part. Her reaction now seemed to confirm that, but he wasn't going to humiliate her by making her admit it.
"So, ahh . . . How did you handle the surname problem?" Pansy asked hesitantly.
"Black," Harry replied shortly.
Confused, Pansy said, "I'm sorry?"
"Sirius Black was my godfather, and he was Draco's cousin once removed," Harry explained, "so it seemed a good compromise."
"Would have thought the two of you would have opted for Dæmentelen," Nott broke in to say.
"We thought about it, but..." Draco replied with a shrug. "It's just a bit ostentatious, don't you think?"
"This coming from a Malfoy?" Nott said incredulously, drawing a laugh from at least half of those within hearing.
Draco's glare made most of them at least attempt to hide their amusement.
"Ah . . . Hullo, Potter," came a rather abashed voice from behind Harry.
Harry didn't bother to turn around. "Goyle," he replied, with heavy neutrality.
"Just checking, you know – that you're not ticked off with us," the heavy boy said hesitantly.
After the last bollocksing they'd got from Potter, Greg and Vince were quite nervous. While not considering it a real possibility, at the back of their minds was a fear of being killed – or at least severely hexed.
"Should I be?" Harry inquired innocently. He had noticed the 'Potter' in there, but he'd begin their education on that count at another time. After all, even the professors had only just been informed.
"You did tell us to take the night off, the night you disappeared," Goyle said defensively.
"Quite right," Harry replied equably. "Sit down and eat."
"You too, Crabbe," Harry said to the large young man, still without turning around or looking at them.
There were a few seconds of stunned silence, and then both boys quickly took their seats and loaded their plates, albeit not without flicking an occasional cautious look at Harry.
Draco snickered at their reaction: nor was he the only one.
It was only when Harry and Draco stood to go to their first afternoon class that anyone noticed.
"Damn, Potter: have you grown again?" Millicent inquired. Everyone had noticed, of course, that Harry had grown over the summer from the year before.
"So it seems," Harry replied, with a wry grin.
Nobody said anything more, but you could see speculation on the faces of many. That much height over such a short amount of time could only be caused by magic. And everyone knew that Potter – Black, now – wasn't vain enough to have done it on his own. That was rather complicated magic, anyway. They didn't so much doubt his power, as his knowledge to be able to pull it off. So what had happened?
What nobody seemed to notice was that Draco had added a couple of inches to his height as well, since he'd bonded with Harry. Standing next to Harry, it was hardly noticeable.
Later, Harry was mulling over the Board of Governors meeting, trying to suss out those things he hadn't quite understood, when something occurred to him.
"Draco," he said, "didn't you say your father was on the Board of Governors?"
"Yes," Draco said, his tone questioning.
"It's yours now, then, isn't it?"
"Yes," the blond replied in wonder, his eyes widening a bit in realisation.
Harry nodded in satisfaction. "Good. If we work together, maybe we can influence their decisions more."
Draco was doubtful that a couple of teenagers could be much of an influence on a board of seasoned adults, but he wasn't going to hex his husband's all-too-rare optimism by saying so.
Three days later Harry overheard an interesting rumour being discussed by a pair of young Ravenclaws, and started looking for a way to either confirm or deny it. It seemed the Ravenclaws themselves didn't know anything more than what they'd been discussing, and had merely been speculating on the subject.
It took Harry several more days before he found his prey alone.
"Hello, Hopkins," Harry said in a low, casual voice. His cold rage was just below the surface, but Harry wanted to be sure of the facts of the rumour before he acted. Curiously, this time he found that he had a much firmer control over his emotions and reactions to it than he'd had before.
"Potter?" Wayne Hopkins said. He was a Hufflepuff, the same age as Harry. Harry's gold eyes focused on him, and immediately the boy was on guard.
"You got it in one," Harry replied, "although I would have thought it a bit obvious. I should inform you, however, that since my nuptials, the surname is 'Black'. Nice day, isn't it?"
"What do you want?" the sandy-blond boy asked nervously.
"Why so nervous, Hopkins?" Harry asked, toying with the boy.
"I'm not nervous," Wayne denied.
"Truly? You certainly look nervous. You're perspiring."
Wayne ignored the accusation. It was true, but if he didn't acknowledge it...
"What do you want?" he asked again.
"Oh, it's just a small thing, really. A matter of a certain blond Slytherin falling on some stairs."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Wayne denied.
"That was your first mistake," Harry said with a cold smile, although his tone of voice remained casually friendly. "Actually, I'm wrong," he corrected himself. "Your first mistake was tripping him in the first place. But you couldn't have missed hearing about it. I've heard you were a minor celebrity for a week over that – in your own House, of course. It's nice to have such loyal friends that they'd keep quiet about it, isn't it?"
"H-how did you find out?"
"Just rumours," Harry said, pulling out his legal wand. "I didn't know for certain until just now. Thank you for that."
"Wh-what are you going t-to do?" Wayne stuttered, his eyes fixated on Harry's wand, and wishing he'd the foresight to pull his first..
"Just making sure you don't go anywhere, for now," Harry replied. "I have a question or two. First, why did you do it?"
"Death Eaters killed my family," a now heavily sweating Hopkins replied.
"And how does that involve Draco, then?" Harry felt sorry for the boy's loss, but there was a matter of principle, here.
"His father's a Death Eater!" Hopkins said in a heated panic.
"Ah. I see. His father's a Death Eater, so of course Draco had to be involved. So if your father had killed someone it would be all right for their relatives to kill you for it?" Harry inquired pointedly.
"N-no!" Wayne exclaimed.
"Isn't that what you tried to do?" Harry asked rhetorically.
"And when did it happen, might I ask?" he added.
"I- This past summer," Wayne replied, his voice faint. Had he tried to kill an innocent boy? No. It couldn't be. Malfoy had to be a Death Eater, too – or planning to become one. He was an evil git, just like his father. Malfoy had been cruel and vicious to people in all the houses . . . until this year, he realised, when he'd started dating Potter. Thank the gods he hadn't had the chance to put any of his other plans into action.
"So Draco's father couldn't have been involved anyway; he was in Azkaban," Harry informed the boy.
"What do you mean, 'was'?" the blond boy asked suspiciously.
"You didn't hear about that either, then? Death Eaters killed Draco's parents, too."
"Serves him right," Hopkins replied vindictively, although he felt an unwanted twinge of sympathy for the Slytherin.
"Tut! Didn't I just tell you that Lucius was in Azkaban at the time?" Harry asked with mock concern for the boy's memory.
"That doesn't make him innocent!" Wayne argued.
"Oh, Mister Malfoy was guilty of all sorts of crimes," Harry readily admitted. "He tried to kill me a time or two." Harry's voice grew cold as he continued. "But he had nothing to do with the death of your family, and Draco definitely didn't."
Wayne felt himself floundering. His emotions were telling him that all of that didn't matter, but his mind was telling him that he was the one guilty of a crime. His eyes dropped again to Harry's wand.
"What are you going to do?" he asked again.
"Me? I'm not going to do anything," Harry replied. "You didn't hurt me, after all. But I am going to inform Draco." He knew Draco's reputation would scare Hopkins more than his own.
"But he'll kill me!" Wayne protested fearfully.
"Oh, I doubt it, although you might wish he had," Harry replied. "But I suppose you could avoid all that by turning yourself in." Harry shrugged. "Your choice, of course. You have until supper." Then Harry tucked his wand back into its sleeve and walked away, feeling at least vaguely satisfied. If Hopkins turned himself in, maybe he'd try to limit Draco's vengeance.
Harry sighed. He was almost disappointed that Hopkins had proven to know how to use his brain, since he wasn't even vaguely happy about the Hufflepuff's attempt to kill Draco. Still, Hopkins would likely be looking over his shoulder for Draco's almost-white hair for some time to come. Malfoys weren't known to give up on their vengeance, no matter how long it took. If he explained it that way to Draco, maybe he'd settle for the psychological torture of a revenge that never came?
Hopkins had been expelled, of course. He was lucky Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to turn him over to the Ministry and the Wizengamot for trial. Harry hadn't wished to add to the boy's troubles once he found out why he had acted as had, and had counted on the old man's will to thwart both him and Draco. At the same time, it only reinforced Harry's decision to separate himself from the old man and his idea of the Light. Perhaps out from under Dumbledore's influence Hopkins would have a chance to be a decent human being. Too bad about the interruption to his education, though. Still, there were one or two other wizarding schools the boy could apply to.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked, once they were safely in Harry's rooms and less likely to be overheard.
"Just a minute, love," Harry said, and then checked that no new spy spells had been put in place. There had been. Two. And they were so low powered that Harry had almost missed the second one. He and Draco had both thoroughly scanned for yet other spells after that. It was only when they were fairly sure that there were no more that they relaxed.
After disabling the spells, Harry told Draco the whole story. Draco glowered at him.
"And you let him get away? After almost killing me?" he said with quiet intensity.
"What would you have done if I'd given him to you?" Harry asked.
"I'd have made sure he knew what a Malfoy's vengeance was worth!" Draco declared angrily.
"And wound up not only expelled, but likely a 'guest' of the Ministry's prisons," Harry replied. "You know they'd like nothing better than an excuse to 'make an example' of you, and then confiscate your lands, holdings, and Gringotts vaults."
"I-!" Draco stopped, angry and frustrated. Harry was right, damn it.
"And just think," Harry said insinuatingly, murmurring into his lover's ear, "he'll keep looking for, and expecting, a revenge that never comes."
Draco chuckled, albeit reluctantly. Harry was probably manipulating him into giving up on his revenge, but he was right, as well – unless Hopkins was both very uninformed and very stupid. He turned in Harry's arms and kissed him.
"I think it's time we started recruiting," Harry said regretfully, after a few minutes of snogging..
This announcement totally derailed Draco's thoughts. If his husband was able to think of anything other than him while they were snogging, the subject must be weighing heavily on his mind.
"It's a good idea, but what made you decide?" he finally asked.
"I've always known I'd need to; I just didn't want to do it," Harry said, avoiding the question. "People will die."
Draco looked uncomfortable with that reminder. That was something he'd tried not to think about as well. Harry was going to be in the thick of any fighting, and . . . Draco shuddered, unable to think about the possibility of Harry getting hurt or killed.
"Yes. Inevitably so," was his reply. "We can only hope to minimise the damage to our people while maximising the damage to everyone else's."
"I'd rather minimise the damage to everyone except Voldemort – and a few others," Harry said musingly, his voice rumbling in a register he'd never reached before – and then looked surprised by the vibration in his chest.
Harry's voice made Draco shiver deliciously, all thoughts of fighting and death forgotten. "Ah . . . Harry? When did your voice drop?" he asked.
"Just now – I think," Harry replied. His voice wasn't quite as deep as when he'd spoken before, but it was still deeper than it had been – because he was trying to speak in his 'normal' register.
"Harry?" Draco said that night in bed as he was snuggled up to his husband.
"Hm?"
"When is the next Governor's meeting?"
Harry thought back, then toted up the days. "Three days," he replied, surprised that two weeks had passed so quickly.
"I'll be going with you this time," Draco remarked.
"Oh?" Harry inquired. "Oh! Yes, of course," he said, as he recalled Draco's place on that board.
"And . . . I think we're going to need some help," Draco said, grateful that Harry was supporting him in taking his father's seat. His husband could probably have insisted on voting both seats.
"With what?" he asked. There were so many things they could use help with!
"Your training mostly, but also recruiting."
"Salazar is going to be seeing to our training," Harry protested mildly.
"But he admitted himself that it would be difficult for him to teach us some things," Draco argued. "There are some things which need to be taught in a 'hands on' manner."
Harry frowned, wondering what his husband was driving at. At the same time, he had the niggling of an idea about it, which he was determinedly trying to ignore.
"And your solution?" Harry asked, almost dreading the answer.
"Uncle Severus," Draco replied.
Harry skewered the blond with a sharp look.
"Uncle Severus?" he inquired.
"Just an honorary title," Draco reassured him. "He was close friends with Mother when I was younger."
Harry's eyes narrowed to slits. "How close?" he asked.
Draco shot him a startled look. "Not that close," he declared. "At least . . . I don't think so. Although . . . Father usually wasn't around when . . . No. I won't believe it."
In the meantime, Hermione Jane Granger had been reassessing her decisions and priorities. She was feeling vaguely ashamed of herself for having betrayed Harry's friendship. She and, unbeknownst to her, a small contingent of other Gryffindors were thinking of breaking ranks with the rest of their House and embracing the friendship of a certain dark-haired Slytherin – if he would still have them.
True, a few of their number had been invited to Hogsmeade that one time, but there had been little contact since then, other than in classes. When Hermione had discovered that fact, she had been thoroughly and righteously indignant. It was only after she'd calmed down that she had started to think why Harry might have forsaken her: and Ron, of course.
Hermione had realised, to her shame, that she had become almost slavish to authority over the years. Harry had been right to call her a sycophant. When had she stopped questioning?
Actually, she rarely had questioned authority, she realised. And with examples such as Minister Fudge, Umbridge, and others, she wondered why. Nobody could be infallible; even she had made the occasional mistake. She blushed as she remembered the fiasco with the polyjuice potion in second year as the most memorable of those. With that in mind, Hermione began a re-evaluation of those few things Harry had told her of his life, and Dumbledore's role in them. Could the headmaster have been that badly wrong?
Thank you for your reviews. :)
1: A croque-monsieur is a hot ham and cheese (typically gruyère) grilled (broiled) sandwich. Some variations are dipped in beaten egg, then pan-fried in butter. It originated in France as a fast-food snack served in cafés and bars. More elaborate versions come coated in a Mornay or Béchamel sauce.
A Monte Cristo sandwich consists of ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese between two slices of bread, soaked in an egg-based batter and grilled or deep-fried. (Descriptions from )
Many thanks to my betas, who are keeping my insane ramblings at least partially understandable.