As much as he enjoyed kneading bread dough, Harry wished the task did more to capture his attention. Instead, the simple repetitive motions left his mind to wander, and his thoughts inevitably made their way back to Draco every time.
It was well into the winter cold, a fortnight since he had left Draco's rooms, and he'd not seen his Lord Heir since. He wasn't even attending any meetings with his father, where Harry was required to be with Lord Malfoy. He was avoiding Harry as much as Harry was avoiding him.
That hurt a little, even if he did know it was for the best.
"Good evening, Captain Potter."
The soft voice came from behind him, startling him. Harry spun around as much as he could, still wrist-deep in dough for the next day's bread. Lady Narcissa Malfoy smiled warmly at him.
"My Lady!" he gasped. "I beg your pardon, I didn't hear you approach. I would bow, but…" he trailed off, glancing at the sticky mass in, and around, his hands.
"I understand, of course," Lady Malfoy laughed lightly. She snagged a nearby stool and pulled it over, sitting on the other side of the table facing Harry. "You're a very busy man, Captain Potter. It makes you difficult to track down."
"I did not know you were searching for me, or I would have made myself available," Harry murmured. He continued his kneading, but kept his eyes on Lady Malfoy. "Is there something I can do for you, my Lady?"
"Nothing, in your official capacity," she said. A young scullery maid brought her a cup of warm cider, which she accepted with a smile and a word of thanks. "I wonder if Lucius ever told you why he bought your contract," she continued quietly, and Harry shook his head, confused by the subject change. "There is an old tradition in the Malfoy family of buying a single young male slave, close to the age of the Lord Heir. Malfoys never hold slaves otherwise."
"And I was that slave," Harry realised.
"Yes," she nodded regally, "you were. Just as there was a slave when Lucius was a boy, and when his father Abraxas was a boy, just like so many generations before them. This slave is always freed at his majority or before, like you were, and always treated well and educated, just like you were."
"I had wondered," Harry said, his hands falling still. "I was young, but even then I knew most slaves weren't treated like I was. I had a better life here, as property, than I ever did free with my relatives."
Lady Malfoy studied him silently for a moment. There was an emotion in her eyes that Harry couldn't fathom, but it wasn't pity. "I never knew what called Lucius to buy you before, until he told me the other night. The auctioneer called you 'unusually magical,' he said. That's why the Malfoy's buy slaves, to save those powerful boys from deplorable treatment at the hands of their masters.
"Now, noble as that is, that isn't all," she continued, seemingly oblivious to the way Harry was frozen, staring at her. "There is hope that the boy, as a slave or licens, will become a companion of sorts to the Lord Heir. They grow up together, in the same manor, and have similar educations. The slave always comes from a different background, though. The Lord hopes that a friendship between the two will teach the Lord Heir to be a better Lord."
"My Lord raised me to be his son's friend," Harry summarised.
"Lucius gave a young boy a chance at a good life, hoping he might be a good influence on his son," Lady Malfoy corrected. "Lucius is proud of the young man you have become, Harry, as am I. I know that Severus is, too. He may never admit it, but he would be overjoyed to be able to call you his son."
Harry stared at the dough flattening slowly on the table between them. "Who was the last slave?" he asked slowly. "Who was it that Lord Abraxas bought?"
"It was Severus," Lady Malfoy told him. "He was older than you." Harry nodded slowly, still watching the dough spread out across the scoured wood.
Lady Malfoy stood, signalling an end of the…uncomfortable topic of conversation. She bent and picked something up off the floor. She placed Macnair's sword and sheath on the clean portion of the table. "My Lord husband wishes you to have this. You kept Draco safe, which kept our minds at ease, and he honours you for it."
Harry bowed as best he could, keeping his sticky hands out of contact with his clothes. "You have my humble thanks, my Lady, as does my Lord. It was the least I could do."
Lady Malfoy smiled knowingly. "I think it was rather more than that," she said, and Harry frowned. She turned away to look over the kitchen, full of the preparation work for the next day, giving off a casual air that Harry distrusted immediately. "Dear Lucius is having such difficulty finding a suitable partner for Draco. I almost think he would prefer one he had raised himself. Goodnight, Captain Potter."
"Goodnight, my Lady," Harry replied faintly, head spinning.
-0-
Draco stayed in his seat as his father dismissed the advisors. Lucius cocked an eyebrow at him, asking what he was doing. Draco gave him a look in reply that said he had it all handled, and Lucius stood with a short nod, leaving the hall. "I would speak with you, Captain Potter," Draco called, halting Harry in his attempts to follow Lucius from the hall. "Come here."
"Yes, my Lord," Harry replied stiffly as he eased his hand away from his sword, where it always landed when he was startled. He approached Draco's chair, at the right hand of his father's, looking more through Draco than at him.
It caused an ache in Draco's chest. It was the first they'd spoken in three weeks, the first time they had really acknowledged each other's presence. Draco had only started attending meetings again after his father stormed his rooms, all but dragging him from his bed and asking him how he ever thought he would be a good Lord if he didn't bother to learn.
Harry still wouldn't meet his eyes, and that hurt.
Stopping in front of Draco's seat, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, pressing his fist over his heart. It was the same pose he had taken when he swore fealty to Lucius, after he became captain of the guard. He said nothing, waiting for orders.
Draco hated it. He hated the way they were forced to act, the way the structure of society kept Harry from him.
"It has been brought to my attention," Draco said slowly, the formal, stilted words heavy on his tongue, "that I am…less than able to defend myself, should the need arise. I wish to remedy that."
"One of my senior guardsmen would be happy to train you, my Lord," Harry said demurely.
Draco frowned. "I would prefer to be trained by the captain. Your skills are excellent."
"My Lord keeps me busy with my duties protecting him and organising the guard," Harry replied, never raising his eyes from the floor. "I'm afraid I don't have the time. I assure you, my Lord, my senior guardsmen are more than adequate enough to train you."
Draco scowled. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to recreate their time at Sirius' cottage farm, when Harry had been focused completely on him.
He should have known it wouldn't work, not back in the manor. Not now that the threat was gone.
"I insist, Captain Potter," he tried again.
"Then you have my apologies, my Lord," Harry said. "I will spare you what I can, but I do not have the time to train you properly, as you should be trained."
"Harry," Draco pleaded. He started the reach out a hand, but dropped it when Harry flinched away. "Don't shut me out. Please."
"I must return to my duties," Harry said tonelessly, standing. "Come to the barracks after you breakfast. I will assign someone to train you. Excuse me, my Lord." He bowed and left, not once having met Draco's eyes.
-0-
The sun was well up when Harry passed through the yard. He'd avoided it in the mornings whenever possible, since Draco had been training there for the last week. He paused to watch the noble demonstrate a reasonable attempt at a high parry/middle slash combination, aimed at an invisible opponent's gut. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck as he wielded the wooden sword form.
"Again," Marcus Flint, the man Harry had assigned to train him, called. He was leaning on his own sword form, watching carefully. Draco did the combination again, still shy of fighting speed.
Flint straightened up as he spotted Harry coming across the yard. "Captain Potter."
"Flint," Harry nodded back, unclasping his cloak. "Take a break." He handed off his cloak to Flint, trading it for his wooden sword form.
"Yes sir." Flint tossed the cloak over his arm, accepting the captain's sword and sheath a moment later as Harry removed them from his belt to fight.
Harry tossed the wooden form from hand to hand, getting used to the lighter weight and change in balance. "Show me what you've learned this week, my Lord," he said, settling into a fighting stance. Draco copied him, and Flint stepped forward, hand raised to start the bout.
Flint dropped his hand and Harry attacked immediately, starting with a high cut to prompt Draco into trying the combination he'd just been practicing. It was passable, and Harry blocked the gut slash with ease. Draco hesitated for too long, still stretched out with his weapon in contact with Harry's, and Harry gave his sword form a twirl. Draco couldn't bend his wrist around to follow and lost his grip. The sword form clattered to the ground between them.
"Don't hesitate like that," Harry said. "Always return to your stance." He nudged the sword form with a booted toe. "Again."
Flint started them again. Harry came at his neck from the side, a beheading move, and Draco scrambled to bring his own weapon up fast enough to block. He didn't push Harry's form away, just stopped it from reaching his neck, and Harry changed course to hit Draco on the top of the shoulder instead. "Never stay still. Push it away from you."
Draco nodded, settling back into his stance. Harry eased backwards, circling slowly, and Draco rotated to follow him. "Keep your eyes on me. Watch here," he tapped his chest with one hand, "so you can see where I'll move." He took a quick strike at Draco's side and the noble blocked him faster that time, shoving his sword form away. He saw Draco's next move in the shift of his shoulders, the way he angled his body, and he blocked Draco's own slash at his ribs. He could tell he was trying to strategize, going for Harry's left side when he held the form in his right hand.
"Nice try," Harry smirked. He pushed Draco's weapon down and away, pulling the noble off balance and leaving him open. He smacked Draco on the hip and traced the tip of the form across his stomach. "Don't let me do that."
"How?" Draco demanded, speaking for the first time.
"Strength and practice." Harry shrugged, grinning teasingly. He always enjoyed a training bout, a chance to flex his muscles without the stress of a real fight. "Try not to leave yourself open and stretched out like that."
They started another bout, Harry still going at two-thirds fighting speed to give Draco a chance to keep up. He made to quick strikes, high and middle, and Draco blocked them. Harry used the push Draco gave him on the second block to snap the form down to his left knee, pulling it across the back in a manoeuvre that would have hobbled him with a real blade. Harry smacked the flat against his knee, knocking it out from under him. Draco stumbled and hit the ground.
"Your progress is good," Harry commented, pressing the tip of the wooden form into the dirt and leaning on it. "You need to build up muscle before you even think about a real blade, though. You're too slow with the form yet, because it's still heavy for you." He turned to Flint. "Very good. Work up to attacks, he's only reacting."
"Yes sir." He handed Harry's sword and cloak back to him.
Harry glanced up at the sky as he swung the cloak over his shoulders. "You're finished for today. Flint, warn the patrols. Snow at sundown."
Flint looked at the thin clouds in surprise. "Are you sure, sir?"
"Always," Harry grinned, staring at the dark clouds massed at the edge of the North horizon. A faint but steady northern breeze stirred his fringe. "It's midday, Flint. Go stuff your face."
"Yes sir!" Flint replied with a grin and a cheeky salute. Harry snatched Draco's sword form and aimed a smack at him as he passed. The larger guardsman danced out of the way, laughing as he ran.
Harry turned to Draco, putting on his most professional expression. "Is Flint satisfactory, my Lord?"
"Yes," Draco nodded. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But I'd rather have you, Harry."
"Draco, stop," Harry hissed, keeping his face blank in case anyone was watching. "I've told you."
"And I don't believe you," Draco shot back. "You gave me a bunch of half-formed excuses, but I think you're just scared." He came even closer, close enough for Harry to feel the heat radiating from him. "You're the bravest man I know, so why can't you just admit it already?"
Harry was rescued by a page sprinting toward them, waving a missive at him. Harry took it, ignoring the bowing page as he read. He dismissed the page with a flick of his fingers. "My Lord requests my presence for midday," he told Draco. He tucked the missive away in his pocket, buckling his sword on again. "Excuse me."
"Of course," Draco murmured.
Harry started to go, then hesitated and turned back. "I'm not afraid, Draco," he said softly, staring at the ground. "If I don't admit anything, no one can hurt me with it. Especially you."
"Harry, I would never hurt you." His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for him, but stayed by his side. "Don't you know that?"
"Even if you don't mean to," Harry said slowly, raising his eyes to meet Draco's, "you will. Good day, my Lord."
He bowed and walked away, leaving Draco standing dumbfounded in the yard.
-0-
Draco watched his father, seated on the sofa in his sitting room with his fingertips pressed together as he stared into the fire. If he didn't know better, Draco might have said that Lucius was working up the nerve to tell him something.
"Avery has joined Slytherin," he said bluntly, startling Draco. "Since leaving here, he has also gained the support of Crabbe and Goyle, of Rutland, and Selwyn of Cambridgeshire, but Avery is by far the strongest Lord."
Draco nodded, taking it in. "What does that mean, then?"
Lucius took a long moment to answer. "It means he could try for the throne now," he said slowly. "His Majesty Lord Dumbledore is aging, and he has not appointed a Royal Heir. Slytherin would not need to succeed in a total overthrow. Should he kill Lord Dumbledore, the chaos would be enough to ruin us all."
"A second Dark Time," Draco murmured. The Dark Time had been before even Lucius was born, when Draco's grandfather Abraxas was younger than Draco. A man proclaiming himself to be a Lord Grindlewald had tried to bring the counties of England together by conquering them all. The King before him had died without appointing a Royal Heir, and the Lords had weakened themselves by fighting with each other over the throne. It was Lord Dumbledore that had killed Grindlewald in battle. A gathering of the strongest Lords, including Draco's great-grandfather, had proclaimed Lord Dumbledore worthy of being King then.
A log popped in the fire as the Malfoys stared at it.
"Will there be a call to war?" Draco asked quietly.
"I expect a courier within the week," Lucius murmured back.
-0-
A week after he last spoke to Draco, and after the midday with Lucius, Harry was patrolling the roads out of Low Town with Jimmy Peakes, a recently promoted guardsman who had just finished his recruit training. He was young and green, but he had an arm on him that made him deadly with a good sword.
He let Peakes watch in silence, still high strung with his new status. Harry turned over the information Malfoy had given him over the last week. The Lord fully expected a call to war any day now, and Harry was quietly preparing to follow it. He stepped up the recruit training, promoting some of them earlier than he usually would like. If the call came, Malfoy and Harry would take the experienced portion of the guard with them, leaving only the oldest and youngest guardsmen to protect the manor.
Coming over a rise, Harry saw a glint of a rich, unnatural colour through the dead trees, far down the road. "Pull up," he ordered, bringing Prongs to a halt. Peakes stopped beside him, looking around, and Harry pointed. "There," he said, indicating the flash of purple coming toward them. "That's a Royal colour."
"A messenger?" Peakes asked, shocked. Malfoy's predictions were not common knowledge amongst the guard.
"Couldn't be anything else," Harry murmured. "Go back and warn the gate. Tell them a Royal courier is coming, they'll know what to do."
"Yes Captain." Peakes saluted sharply and wheeled his horse around, setting off back into Low Town at a gallop. Harry watched him go before spurring Prongs into a gallop of his own, down the road to meet the courier.
When he was close enough to see the man's face, Harry slowed, raising a hand in welcome. The courier, a black man around Harry's age, raised a hand in return, slowing his mount to a walk. Knowing it was urgent, Harry pulled Prongs around to walk with him, acting as an escort.
"Harry Potter, captain of the Malfoy guard," he introduced himself, inclining his head.
"Dean Thomas, Royal courier," his companion replied, fishing a chain out from under the dull purple cloak wrapped tightly around him. The Dumbledore crest, a stylised rising Phoenix and flame, was carved into one side of the pendant, and Thomas turned it around to show the Royal crown and sword on the other side. "I have an urgent message from his Majesty Lord Dumbledore."
"Right then," Harry nodded sharply. "I'll take you to Lord Malfoy."
They spurred the horses into a gallop again and headed for the manor, cloaks streaming out behind them.
Malfoy was waiting for them as they came into the yard, horseshoes clattering on the stone of the square. Thomas slid from his horse with ease, bowing politely. "Your Lordship, I bear a message from his Majesty Lord Dumbledore."
"I will receive it privately," Malfoy replied, inclining his head. "Captain Potter, attend."
"Yes my Lord." Harry swung down and handed the reins off to a groom who rushed over. He caught Draco's eye for just a second as he moved to follow. Draco looked calm and steady, like he had expected the call as well.
Harry wondered if he knew what it really meant.
-0-
"It is good that I expected this," Lucius murmured, taking a sip of his wine. "Some of the most arduous preparations are already complete."
Draco hummed in agreement, sitting across the table in his father's private rooms, but he didn't really know anything about the preparations.
"We will leave in a fortnight," Lucius continued.
Draco choked on the wine he had just swallowed. "We?" he gasped. "I know next to nothing about war and fighting! Flint won't even let me use a real blade!"
"Not you, Draco," Lucius assured him. "I will go, with Captain Potter."
"Harry?" Draco asked in shock. "Why does he need to go?"
Lucius gave him a look that clearly told him to use his brain. "Harry is captain of the guard. He is an accomplished warrior and an excellent leader, and it is a good thing that he is as loyal to me as he is. I have no delusions that the guard would ever choose to follow me over him, even if he remains oblivious to the fact." He smirked at Draco. "Besides, I believe he would like the chance to meet Slytherin again in person. And on more equal grounds."
Draco didn't find it very funny. "But he could die!" he pointed out.
"Yes," Lucius nodded solemnly. "Harry could die. I could die. The miller's son from the Low Town could die. It is a reality of combat. However," he reached over to take Draco's hand, a comforting gesture he hadn't used since Draco was very young, "Harry has put the guard through one of the most extensive training regimens in England, and it pales in comparison to his own training. I have every confidence that Captain Potter will see me safely through this."
Draco could hear what his father didn't say, though.
Harry will only be hurt in an attempt to protect me. If I am under threat, Harry would gladly die to save me.
Father and son were silent for a long moment, lost in their separate thoughts. Draco wondered if this was really possible, to lose Harry so soon after he had found him.
"You will take my place here," Lucius said suddenly. Draco snapped his head up to face his father. "Severus will be your greatest help, but do not discount your mother's advice." He squeezed Draco's forearm. "Be the man I raised you to be, nothing less, and you will make me proud."
-0-
The barracks were a sombre place that night, Harry noticed. Everyone was gathered around a small fire outside, except the night patrols, but no one was drinking. They simply sat quietly and watched the sun set, knowing their lives would change when they rode out at dawn.
"I went to see Romilda today," Adrian Pucey said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to him.
"The brothel keeper's daughter?" someone asked. "Romilda Vane?"
"Yeah." Pucey stared at his hands in his lap. "I told her that I love her, and if…when I come back, I'm going to marry her."
There were muted congratulations throughout the group, and Harry stepped forward to clap Pucey on the back. "I'll bring you back for your wedding," he promised. Pucey smiled wanly at him.
"I helped my parents today," another guardsman spoke up, following Pucey's lead. "They live outside the Low Town. My father has back problems these days, so I spent a few hours splitting firewood for him. For the winter, you know."
"I spent the day with my daughter," yet another man said. "I told her we could do whatever she wanted, then I took her to the seamstress and ordered a new winter dress for her."
And so it went, man after man speaking up, telling the rest about what he did that day with the knowledge that he may not return. They spoke of wives and husbands, children and nieces and nephews, of lovers and parents. Everyone wanted to leave good memories with the people that meant the most to him.
"I went to the Low Town orphanage where I grew up and played with the kids there."
"Eliza and I went to Justice Green today and got married. If nothing else, I want her to know that I loved her."
When the men fell silent again, Harry looked up at the sky. The stars were coming out, and he could pick out Orion's belt and sword. "Get some sleep, everyone," he ordered. "Dawn will come fast."
There was a soft murmur of "Yes Captain" and "Yes sir" as everyone stood and made their way to their bunks or rooms. Harry went stayed on his bench outside, watching their small fire die. He was staying in his old room in Severus' quarters that night, not the captain's quarters.
"Hey Potter." He turned to see Flint approaching. "Who did you go see today?"
"No one," Harry murmured. "I'm staying with Severus tonight, but I couldn't spare the hours to ride out to see Sirius."
Flint sat heavily beside him, staring up at the stars. "You're not an island, Potter," he said quietly. "If there's someone you want to see, go. There's nothing to stop you, not tonight."
Harry let that thought sink in, understanding what Flint was saying. If he never made it back to the manor, there was someone he wanted to remember him well. Someone he needed to see.
"You're right," he grunted, standing. "You're a good man, Marcus Flint."
"Likewise, Harry Potter," Flint grinned.
Harry clapped a hand on the back of Flint's neck, pressing their foreheads together, and Flint gripped his shoulder. It was an old gesture, from a senior guardsman to his subordinate, one that showed trust and respect. It wasn't used much except in times of war.
"Keep them safe for me."
"I will. You bring them home again, Captain." Flint pulled back, grinning. "Go see your someone now, Potter, before it gets too late."
Harry ran.
-0-
Draco had dismissed Seamus after dinner. He could handle himself for one night, and he wanted to be alone. Lucius would ride out dawn, Harry by his side, leading the Malfoy contingent to war.
How many would come back?
A loud, desperate knocking at his door broke Draco's contemplation of the dying sitting room fire. It burst open as he turned, closing behind a slightly dishevelled figure, breathing hard.
"Harry?!"
"Draco." He took Draco's face in gentle hands, dropping into his lap with knees on either side of Draco's hips. "I couldn't leave without seeing you, just for a moment."
"Shut up," Draco whispered harshly and kissed him. Harry made a needy noise deep in his throat and he returned the kiss, his weight warm and heavy in Draco's lap and his hands snaking around Draco's waist to pull him closer.
Harry pulled away to trail kisses down his neck, hot and open-mouthed. "You have to come back," Draco growled in his ear. "Promise me you'll come back."
"Of course I'm coming back," Harry murmured against his skin. He bit down on the place where Draco's pulse fluttered rapidly, and Draco knew he was leaving a mark to remember him by. Draco groaned and dragged Harry back up to kiss him again, and it was a long time before they broke apart again.
"Stay," Draco pleaded.
Harry shook his head, leaning his forehead against Draco's. "I'm staying with Severus tonight." He stood. "I want you to take this," he said, unbuckling his sword from his belt.
"This is your short sword," Draco said in wonder, accepting the sheathed blade.
"It is," Harry nodded. "Sirius gave it to me when I was twelve, after I had enough training to handle a real blade." He wrapped Draco's hesitant fingers around it. "Keep it for me. Protect yourself while I'm gone."
Draco set the sword aside, pulling Harry to him instead. "I'll wait for you," he promised. "I love you."
Harry buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck. "I know." Draco figured that was as good as he was going to get from the captain. Harry raised his head to meet Draco's eyes. "I have to go. Will you see us off tomorrow?"
"I'll be there," Draco replied. He leaned up those scant few inches to kiss Harry again, sweetly desperate. "Goodnight, Harry."
Harry gave him a last lingering kiss. "Goodnight, Draco." He slid out of Draco's grasp and left.
Draco's knees gave out as the door shut.
-0-
Dawn came cold and misty as Harry watched the contingent gather in the yard. Mounted guardsmen marshalled common foot soldiers, trained and willing volunteers from the villages, into order. Lord Malfoy surveyed the controlled chaos from his position at the front of the line, regal and powerful on his Thestral mount and dressed in the pale blue Malfoy colour.
"When do you expect to reach London?" Severus asked, coming up beside Harry.
"Three days, at the most," Harry replied, wishing he could rub his hands together for warmth. They were all dressed out in full armour, a showy tradition that Harry didn't like. Metal gauntlets were cold and inflexible. He would have much preferred his mail-backed gloves, made of supple leather and lined with wool. Not to mention the gorget was ice-cold and leeched the heat away from his neck, and his pauldrons kept his shoulders from moving all the way around.
At least he didn't have to wear the heavy, echoing great helm. A perk of being captain, he was the most recognisable member of the guard and would ride beside Malfoy in just his mail coif.
"Take this," Severus said suddenly. He pressed a bag of coins into Harry's hands.
"What? No, I can't take your money," Harry protested.
"Don't be foolish," Severus scowled. "It's your money. Your wages since you joined the guard. I knew you wouldn't accept it then, since you thought you were still a slave, so I've kept it for you." He pressed the bag on Harry again, and he accepted it that time. "You need a new horse. Do yourself a favour and spend it on that."
Harry sighed, knowing it was true. Prongs was old, almost too old to be any good. "I'll find one in London," he promised. "Sev…" he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You are…the best father I could have asked for."
Severus gave him a half-hearted glare, his eyes suspiciously watery. "Brat," he said thickly, pulling Harry into a tight hug. "Keep safe. None of that reckless heroism."
Harry just gave a watery laugh. "Go on, then. You're a busy man."
"Too right I am." He pressed a brief kiss to Harry's brow, something he'd never done before, then walked away quickly.
A groom brought Prongs over, and Harry tucked the money away in his saddlebags. He set to checking the tack, making sure the straps were tight enough but wouldn't chafe on the horse's middle.
He turned as a hand landed on his back. Draco was waiting for him, Harry's sword hanging from his belt. He looked so pale and beautiful in the predawn light.
"You came," Harry smiled.
"I came," Draco nodded. "I could hardly not, my father's leaving too." Harry snorted and Draco almost smiled. "I know what you mean, though. I have something for you." He held out the bundle of cloth in his hands, and Harry traded Prongs' reins for it.
It was a cloak, newly made of heavy, winter-weight wool. The main part of it was a rich blue, the same as Harry's cloak, but it was edged in the Malfoy family blue, as pale as Draco's skin in the cold morning air.
"Your colour…I can't…" Harry whispered, fingers tracing the Malfoy crest picked out in delicate stitches in the center.
"You can," Draco insisted. "If anyone deserves to wear the Malfoy colour, it's you." He gripped Harry's upper arm, the least-armoured part of him. "It's almost midwinter, and it's only going to get colder from here. Take it. Wear it proudly into battle."
Harry nodded weakly. Draco unfastened the captain's cloak he was wearing, fastening the new one around his shoulder in its place. "I wish I could kiss you now," Harry murmured.
Draco smiled sadly. "Save it for me, and I'll take it when you return." He stepped back, falling into a half bow. "Goodbye, Harry."
Harry bowed low, fist over his heart. "Goodbye, Draco. My Lord."
"My love," Draco murmured weakly. "Go."
Harry swung himself up onto Prongs, letting out a sharp whistle. The chaos around him ordered itself immediately, each man falling into his place in line. Harry came up alongside Malfoy. "Ready?" The Lord gave a sharp nod. "Move out!" Harry called.
"Look," Malfoy said quietly just before they passed through the gate. Draco and Lady Malfoy were watching them, both with tears on their faces. Together, Harry and Lord Malfoy raised their arms and pressed their fists over their hearts. Draco pressed a hand over his mouth, and his mother wrapped her arms around him.
"You'll be alright?" Malfoy asked as they made their way out of the Low Town.
"Yeah," Harry replied slowly. "I will be."
Malfoy nodded. His Thestral shuffled its wings, and he clucked at it. "Draco might have well have picked his own husband," he remarked casually.
Harry choked on his spit in surprise. "W-What do you mean, my Lord?"
"Your cloak," Malfoy smirked at him. "He's all but claimed you as part of our family."
"Oh," Harry squeaked. Malfoy hummed in agreement.
"He's headstrong when he wants something," he said. "I can't fault him for his taste, though."
Harry's face burned.