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"This is very tiresome," Skeeter said, with a languid roll of her eyes behind her huge glasses. "Must you?" But she was eagerly holding out her hand as she spoke, and Harry grasped it.

"Just a precaution," Harry said, showing her his teeth. She could take that for a smile if she wanted. "To ensure that you report the truth, which I have an interest in seeing spread, and not your own idiosyncratic version of it."

Skeeter pretended to look hurt, but it wasn't even a very good imitation. She'd caught sight of the phoenixes that entwined Harry's arms by now, and her eyes were burning. She mouthed the Unbreakable Vows absently: to tell only the strict truth that Harry gave her in the interview when she wrote up the article, and not to use her Quick-Quotes Quill. Hermione acted as their Bonder, and then Skeeter sat back, plucked an ordinary quill out of her satchel, and waved it around ostentatiously.

"I have the right writing implement," she said. "And now I think I deserve the story. Talk, Potter."

Harry leaned forwards, attempting to compose his mind. He needed just the right words for Skeeter, because even though she would keep her vows—she had to—a careless phrase could still condemn him in a lot of people's eyes.

But his thoughts were distracted by the letter that he'd received from Severus and Draco when he owled them explaining that he intended to reveal the bond publically, and carefully laying out his reasons for doing so. He'd expected a screed to come back to him, either a long list of advice or an indignant refusal.

Instead, he received a single sheet of paper with a single sentence on it, in letters so precisely inked that he couldn't even tell which one of them had written it.

That is acceptable, and your reasons sound.

Harry wanted to see them face-to-face and talk to them about it. He wanted to argue and thresh out his reasons, because they were the ones most directly affected by it—Harry would be affected, too, but he had an inherent protection in his name—and because they could probably come up with arguments that he, Ron, and Hermione hadn't thought of.

In short, he missed them. He'd stayed away from them before, but that was his choice. This time wasn't.

But Skeeter was waiting now, her quill poised, and Harry couldn't delay any longer because he was, ridiculously, hurt. Draco and Severus had chosen to stay out of sight for now, in each other's exclusive company. Maybe that was even for the best, given how many threats against them there had been. He needed to forge ahead, and hope everything would work out.

"First of all," he said, "I defeated Voldemort not only with ancient magic, but with accidental magic."

Skeeter's mouth practically watered as she wrote that down. "I should have known," she whispered to herself. "No ordinary spell could have killed You-Know-Who." She looked up. "And where do the phoenixes come in?"

"They're symbols of life and rebirth," Harry said, obediently reciting the best theory Hermione had been able to formulate. He didn't know that that was true; maybe Fawkes had been hanging around the Shrieking Shack and the accidental magic had incorporated his image into the bonds that way. Harry wondered if he would ever know. "And I wanted Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy to survive. Voldemort had them in the Shrieking Shack on Hogwarts's grounds. He was going to kill them."

Skeeter sighed rapturously, and spent a few minutes scribbling, before she nodded at Harry to go on. "So you rescued them?"

"Yes. I wished so strongly for them to live that my accidental magic acted." Harry thought back to the moment that the bond had come to life and shook his head. It was still difficult for him to separate what had actually happened from what he thought had happened, or what seemed to have happened. "It reached out to the Dark Marks that Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy carried on their arms. It transformed them, and also my scar." He pushed back his fringe. "You must have wondered why my scar's gone."

Looking flattered because he'd assumed she was intelligent enough to ask the question, Skeeter nodded.

"The bond transformed it," Harry said simply, and lifted his arms. "It transformed—" He hesitated for a moment over the names, then took the plunge. "Draco and Severus's Dark Marks, too. They carry the marks of phoenixes, and so do I. Through them, we can feel each other's emotions, share magic, and tell when someone else in the bond is in danger."

"A bond." Skeeter looked as if she were about to faint, but her hand traveled across the parchment as fast as ever. "Why haven't you revealed the bonds before now?"

"I was told it wouldn't be politically wise." Though Harry knew his actions would probably do it anyway, he didn't want to alienate Kingsley if he could help it. "Because, after all, who would want to see the Chosen One bonded to two former Death Eaters?" He shrugged with one shoulder. "But I think that's stupid. They're bonded to me, and the bond isn't going to go away, and that's an end of it."

"But no end to the questions people will ask." Skeeter gave him a shark's smile.

"I know." Harry pulled his legs up beneath him and tried to settle himself in for what looked like a long interrogation. At least Hermione was hovering to the side, keeping a stern eye on Skeeter, and she could interrupt if things got too bad. "What else do you think the public should know?'

*

"I do not believe he will go through with it."

Draco paused and looked over the kitchen table at Severus. Severus was not looking at him; he was looking at the plate of eggs and toast in front of him, with a concentrated attention that told Draco how hard he was working to focus primarily on that. His fork and spoon picked steadily away, but somehow didn't manage to lift many mouthfuls.

Draco sighed, pushed his own plate—already cleared—out of the way, and leaned across the table to put his hand on Severus's wrist. Severus glanced up, his eyes narrowed and his mouth drawn tight. He would say something sarcastic in a moment, Draco thought, and then the whole conversation would be diverted into another channel. He had to speak before that could happen.

"What makes you think so, Severus? Because he didn't want to do something in the past is no guarantee that he won't do it now. We should have learned that much about him in the past month."

Severus's nostrils flared, and he made a sharp jerk with his hand, as if he were going to pull it out from under Draco's restraining grip. In the end, he flexed his fingers and relaxed them, perhaps because Draco tightened his grasp and gave him a stubborn look.

"Harry has made it clear that he did not choose to have us in his life." Severus's voice was low but savage. He flexed his fingers again, this time digging them into the table as if they were claws. "He grants us concessions, such as his emotions and his presence—"

"Those are too big to be minor concessions," Draco pointed out. He felt a distant amusement that he was defending Harry Potter, of all people.

Severus gave him an ugly glare. Draco hung onto his hand. He wasn't betraying Severus, but trying to help both him and Harry. He wouldn't be put off simply because Severus was in a bad mood.

"Then he has made some changes," Severus said between gritted teeth. "But in all his changes, he has made it clear that he remains essentially a private citizen. It is too much trouble for him to reveal what makes him grant us these concessions. It is too much trouble for him to spend Christmas Day with us. He was glad enough to see us leave hospital the day before yesterday." He tried to fold his arms, but he couldn't because Draco still had hold of his hand. He flushed in frustration. "There is a certain edge to our relationship that will always remain. Beyond that, he cannot pass. And revealing the bond as he proposes to is an action beyond that edge. Granger may have talked him into it. She will not manage to make him stay committed to such an action."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the Daily Prophet owl swung through the kitchen at that moment, and dropped the paper on the table. Severus snatched it up and gave Draco a triumphant glance.

"Do you see? He has not—"

They both caught sight of the photograph on the front page at the same time: Harry sitting up in his hospital bed, his sleeves drawn back so that the phoenixes were visible, his robe raised so that the scar across his gut showed, his expression determined and cautious at the same time. The headline above the picture screamed: HARRY POTTER: BONDED TO DEATH EATERS!

Draco only just managed to read the first words of the article before Severus flung the paper on the table and stalked away in a rage. Draco watched in silence as he went in the direction of the potions lab. A moment later, the ringing slam of a door echoed through the house.

Draco gave a thin smile. He knew that Severus was angrier at himself than Harry. He did not like to be wrong.

Given time, he'll come around.

With a luxurious sigh, Draco settled down to read the article. He expected plenty of praise of himself, of his selflessness and bravery, and if it was missing, then he knew what to tease Harry about when he saw him next.

*

James Potter's son. The bane of my existence. One who controls the bonds that control me. His life is my life, his death my death. He can cause me pain merely by suffering it, and he is headed for a career as an Auror! Thoughtless, selfish, foolish—

Severus halted in his pacing and lowered his head into his hands.

He could have done well to convince himself as long as he had his target in front of him. Harry would have yelled back, and Severus could have built his defenses up again by seeing the boy's stubbornness and loudness and other negative qualities. He had managed an adequate substitute for that by disbelieving what had come in Harry's letter yesterday, as well. He could not mean to reveal the bond. Severus had sent back the single sentence in their letter because he knew Harry could not mean it.

And now…

Now, he had. Now, he had willingly made himself a social pariah and, Severus thought, directly disobeyed the orders of the Minister because he wanted to protect them, exactly as he had argued in his letter.

He has done what I thought he would not. He has made a gesture that will weaken his standing in the eyes of the public and almost certainly will weaken his relationship with young Miss Weasley, if not fracture it.

He has given up the things I thought he most valued for the sake of Draco and I.

Severus had been wrong—so wildly and vividly wrong that the contradiction was flaying him alive and he could not stand it. He started to take a step towards his Potions ingredients. He would brew a new potion and see if that might calm him down.

But the memory of what Harry had looked like in the photograph in the Prophet stopped him. Injured, nervous, weak in the way that Severus would have castigated him for looking in Potions class or Defense Against the Dark Arts, when he had been convinced that this thin boy would never defeat the Dark Lord.

Yes, all those things, and still defiant with it.

Severus shut his eyes.

For the first time, he had to acknowledge that Harry had inherited several of Lily's fine qualities: her utter determination to stand up for the persecuted, her disinterested selflessness, her ability to see through bluster and anger and a bad public reputation to the goodness and the vulnerability beneath. Combine that with his father's stubbornness, and Severus knew that he could call Harry Potter or his best friends Mudbloods, and Harry would yell and growl at him and still come back.

He had someone to depend on.

The revelation shattered convictions he hadn't even realized he still held, and left him desperately scrambling for new ones to replace them.

Severus shuddered and took a deep breath. Simply because Harry had come through on this one aspect of making the bond public did not mean he always would. Severus had to be cautious. Once, he had trusted someone completely and he had had to learn that complete confidence was a fool's dream.

But the hope that this could be something permanent remained, deeply-seeded in him now, and Severus knew it would not be so easy to rip the roots up.

He opened his eyes and moved briskly towards the Potions vials. Now that he had made the decision to accept what Harry had done, he could brew. He needed the distraction. He had come as far as he could for the moment towards complete acceptance of Harry. He was not required to keep slogging on.

Brewing would serve as a distraction from something else, as well: how that image of Harry in the newspaper photograph had become a bright locus of want in his mind.

*

"Draco!" Harry heard the intense happiness in his voice, and knew it was making Ron and Hermione and Ginny, all gathered around his bed, stare, and he didn't care. He leaned forwards, stretching out his hand. "How are you? Where's Severus?"

"Must we always come as a pair?" But the light tone to Draco's voice, as much as the way he practically pranced into the room, told Harry he was teasing. His fingers swept across Harry's palm before he shook hands in the normal fashion. Harry flushed.

He could feel, besides the heat in his cheeks, Ginny's hard stare from the side. He didn't sigh, but only because he was concentrating hard on not doing it. She'd agreed to let him publicize the bond in a dull voice, saying that of course it was the right thing to do and so he had to do it. But she hadn't liked it.

"In all seriousness," Draco went on, settling on the side of the bed itself as if he had a perfect right to sit there, "he's sulking because he predicted that you wouldn't do everything you said in your letter, and then you did. That's why you got as curt a response as you did." He leaned a little closer, and let Harry see a light in his eyes that Harry hoped no one else noticed. "Given my choice," Draco murmured, "I would have written a much longer letter. A much," and his voice slowed and grew languid, "longer one."

Harry was glad that Hermione was there, because she interrupted briskly, and spared him an awkward moment where he would have sat there staring, hypnotized, into Draco's eyes. "All right, Harry, here's the letter from Kingsley. I don't know if you want to answer it too quickly. If you keep him waiting, that shows you're in control, and not jumping to his beck and call."

"Is it addressed to me under his name, or under the Ministry seal?" Harry tore his gaze away from Draco and dropped his hand. He heard Draco chuckle softly. He was glad that the sheets still covered his lap, and that no one could see his body's light shiver.

"Under the Ministry seal." Hermione's lips were pressed tightly together as she passed him the letter, shaking her head. Harry tried to return her frown with a smile—it might not be as bad as they thought—and then opened the envelope.

It was exactly as bad as they thought. In fact, it was worse.

Harry Potter,

As you have seen fit to act against the Minister's direct advice and against the public good, the Ministry can see no reason to retain you in the Auror program. We need Aurors who will be careful of both their personal safety and the safety of others, and respectful of both sides of political questions.

Harry shut his eyes, and spent a long moment carefully not looking at Kingsley's signature at the bottom of that document. It didn't matter if he hadn't actually written it; he had signed it, and that was enough.

He felt someone take the letter from him, and assumed it was Hermione. Not until Draco spoke did Harry realize it had been him. "They're trying to pressure you to come back into the fold. Surely you realize that?"

"Of course Harry realizes that," Ginny flared, fighting back against the condescension that even Harry could hear in Draco's voice. "You can stop speaking to him like he's stupid. Surely you realize that."

Harry opened his eyes and took a deep breath, patting Ginny's arm absently when she wound it around his waist. Oddly, Draco's reaction had steadied him. Yes, this was a threat, a political countermove to his first political move, and it was useless to sit there wishing that things could have been different.

"So what do you suggest we do about it?" he asked Draco, and made sure to look directly at Draco's face. Draco was studying the arm Ginny had around his waist with a bland expression, but his eyes slid back to Harry when he spoke.

"Isn't that also obvious?" Draco rolled his eyes overdramatically when Harry shook his head. Harry found himself grinning and relaxing. "You make this public, too. The Ministry wants the Boy-Who-Lived to do exactly as they say, or they're going to take his job away from him—the job they've spent so much time saying he's perfect for. Shacklebolt's just cursed himself in the foot, only he doesn't know it."

"Oh, that would infuriate him," Ron said, sounding proud and smug. "I bet he hasn't considered how the public will react. They've been told not to worry about the remaining Death Eaters, that the Chosen One will protect them, and now he isn't going to get the chance to do that! The Ministry's turning its back on all its own propaganda."

Harry got to see something then he had thought he would never see, largely because it couldn't exist: Draco regarding Ron with respect.

"Is this the best thing to do?" Hermione was looking anxiously between all of them, biting her lip. "I mean, if it gets the Minister angry—"

"I don't bloody care, at this point," Harry said roughly, and ignored the gasps about his language from both Ginny and Hermione. "What else do I have to do, what else do I have to suffer, to get him to treat me with some consideration? And you and Severus, too," he added to Draco. "He saw the Pensieve memories of what you'd done and suffered, but he keeps acting as though you don't matter! Well, you do." He flung Kingsley's letter to the floor and wished he was well enough to get up and stamp on it. He did feel all right, lying here, but whenever he moved around, he got queasy and had to stop.

Draco preened a little, tilting his head back and stroking a hand through his hair. Then he caught himself and murmured, "When people want to, they can ignore the evidence of their own eyes."

"I know that," Harry said. "But you've proven over and over that you're not evil, and as for me—you'd think defeating a Dark Lord was enough, but I reckon not." He was hissing by the end of it, and his eyes were fixed on the letter. He could see Kingsley's face again when he'd asked Harry not to tell anyone about the bond and agreed that they could prosecute Pepperfield after all. So reasonable. So nice.

All that time, he hadn't really planned to support Harry if something came up that touched on the bond. Apparently he was panicked about what people would do if they found out that the Chosen One was bonded to two Death Eaters.

He should have been panicked about we would do, Harry thought, with a heavy, cold kind of rage that was completely unfamiliar to him. But he thought he needed to start feeling emotions like this if he was going to protect Draco and Severus properly. I'm going to do something pretty bloody drastic to counteract this shite, that's what I'm going to do.

"There's also this letter," Hermione said, almost timidly, and held it out to him.

Harry snatched at it, then realized Hermione's eyes were wide, and did his best to calm down and smile an apology at her. He studied the letter, but didn't recognize the handwriting or the seal, a swan sailing with wings spread wide and two young cygnets beneath them. He opened it, knowing Hermione would have already checked it for hexes.

Dear Mr. Potter,

You grow more interesting day by day. Now you are bonded to the son of a woman I knew well at Hogwarts, and to the descendant of an ancient family whom I had more regard for than they may have deserved. A fine family, the Princes. You might ask Severus Snape—who should have taken his mother's name—whether he remembers me.

You can count on my support against any ridiculous moves the Ministry pulls. I have often observed that the Ministry does not know its head from its arse.

Brynhildr Swanfair.

Harry blinked, tried to search his memory, and had to shake his head. He didn't recognize the name, and he didn't know how much her support was worth. He extended the letter to Malfoy, who gasped when he saw the seal. That might be a good sign or a bad one. Harry turned back to Hermione.

"Do you think we should call Skeeter again?"

"I don't see that there's a better option," Hermione said. "Especially since she might feel cut out of things if we went to someone else. And we want as many people to know about this as soon as possible. We already know that the Daily Prophet will print a special edition for her articles if they need to." She rose to her feet. "Do you want me to contact her?"

"Please." Harry turned to Draco. His face was nearly as pale as the letter. Harry frowned. "Is it a bad idea to rely on Swanfair for support?"

"I don't know that we can rely on her," Draco said. "But—this is significant news. Her family was once as rich as my family was. They've lost some money, but none of their prestige. Brynhildr Swanfair didn't send her children to Hogwarts because she felt it wouldn't have provided them as good an education as she could give them with tutors. And she held herself apart from the Dark Lord's army because she didn't think he was stern enough."

"Does she use Dark Arts?" Harry wasn't about to give Kingsley material for a solid accusation against him.

Draco gave him a pitying glance. "Of course she does. That doesn't mean she's fool enough to practice them openly. But she can influence political events at levels that I don't think you could touch for years." He gave the letter a private smile and turned it over to run a finger over the seal. "Swanfair. Well. Severus will be surprised. I had no idea she was friends with his mother's family. He doesn't talk much about them."

With good reason, Harry thought, and then immediately felt ashamed. That was a thought the old Harry, the one who hated Severus, might have. He was trying not to be that old Harry any longer. "Why don't you take the letter with you? Maybe Severus will pick up some hidden message or warning in it that we missed."

Draco's eyes darted up to his. He looked offended for a moment, then amused, then thoughtful. In the end, he nodded and tucked the letter into his robe pocket. Harry was glad that he seemed to have understood the silent message Harry wanted to convey: that if Severus needed solid proof, this time, from someone other than Harry, he would have it.

"This one says that they'll start a Howler campaign against the Minister." Ron was reading another letter with a look of great glee. "And she says that Swanfair suggested it." He lowered the letter and grinned at Harry. "I think you've got a powerful friend if you want to accept her help, mate."

That's just it, Harry thought. I'm not sure I do. But Kingsley is forcing my hand, and so I have to go ahead and act like I don't care about being kicked out of the Auror program. Kingsley has to realize I'm not going to crawl just so that he'll readmit me.

"Let's start out accepting it, and see what happens," he said.

No use pretending to himself: he valued the slight smile Draco gave him when he heard that pronouncement more than the squeeze of Ginny's arm about his waist.

*

Draco paused. He had Apparated into a street near their house in Hogsmeade—he and Severus had been careful never to choose the same one twice—and had turned the corner a moment ago. He had not expected to see anyone standing outside the gate of the front garden, staring at the wards as though he resented them for holding him away from a prize. At the very least, an attacker should have hidden when they heard Draco's footsteps.

But this man turned and stared at Draco as if he were the intruder. Draco whistled through his teeth when he recognized him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic.

After a moment, Draco decided that he wasn't about to let the man intimidate him. He was trying his level best to intimidate Harry and force him into giving up the things he was doing for the good of the bond. How could Draco do anything else but keep up his part of that defense? The three of them had to stand together.

Draco lifted his head and gave a lofty nod, as if he had just this moment deigned to notice the Minister. Then he strolled down the street towards him. Now that he was looking for them, he could make out the bright robes of Aurors standing on guard behind convenient trees.

"Good day, Minister," Draco said when he got up to the gate, working hard to achieve the affable tone his father used to greet inferiors. "Is there something I can help you with?" He extended his hand so the wards could "taste" him and heard them fade away. He didn't turn his gaze or his bland, inquiring smile away from Shacklebolt, though.

"I need to know at whose instigation Harry Potter decided to act against me." The Minister had a broad politician's face, cold and closed, with lines of old anger around the eyes. The Aurors inched a few steps nearer. Draco forced himself to stand bold and proud. He was close enough to home that he could duck immediately inside the wards if danger threatened.

"His own instigation," Draco said. He wanted to protect Harry, yes, but shielding him from the truth would only make him look weak. "He was the one who came up with the plan to tell the newspapers about the bond. Unless you're referring to another incident I'm not familiar with."

Shacklebolt's face closed even more. Then he leaned forwards and adopted a tone that was probably meant to be persuasive. "The Ministry retains a staff of experts skilled in unusual subjects, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure this doesn't come as a surprise to you, since who else would need so much esoteric knowledge to use for the good of the wizarding community?"

And who else could exert so much pressure? But Draco nodded and smiled as if he were the toddling babe the Minister had evidently mistaken him for. "Of course."

"One of our experts has used the available information about your bond," Shacklebolt said, "to construct a scenario that reasonably approximates what happened. He thinks he may know enough to break the bond."

Draco went still. He realized that he couldn't conceal his shock or his fascination a moment later, but he could stand there and consider the matter in silence, so that was what he did.

The bond was complex. He had seen that when Severus used the Hidden History Potion. But that did not mean it was incomprehensibly complex, or that no one could unwind the braids of it and find some way to clip it short.

He tried to imagine living without Harry's emotions, without the necessary closeness to him and Severus—no, he and Severus were lovers, and they had enough between them to sustain a relationship in the absence of the bond. But they could be free of Harry's resentment at having ended up with them. They could be free of his pity and his protection.

And Draco ran at once into a single, silent, overwhelming objection: he didn't want to.

"Your offer is very generous, Minister," he said, meeting Shacklebolt's eyes. Shacklebolt looked triumphant as Draco said those words. Draco wanted to laugh. Does he think an admission as good as an agreement? "But I'd be interested in knowing why you're making this offer instead of one to try a woman who, let us remember, tried to kill Harry."

One of the Aurors, the one who stood closest to the Minister's back, stirred uneasily. Draco deliberately gave no sign that he'd noticed, but he thought it interesting, and would remember it.

"There are complications to the political situation it would not be diplomatic to discuss in public," Shacklebolt said, from behind a stiff mask of a face. "Griselda Huxley has her own set of supporters, and we need everyone involved in the building of the wizarding world—"

"I think," Draco said, with as gentle a bite as possible in his voice, "that you need Harry's help more than you need the help of a random Mu—Muggleborn who happened to save a few others during the war."

Shacklebolt half-shook his head before he caught himself. Interesting. Draco was suddenly glad he was the one who was having this conversation, as frustrating as it was and as inexplicable as Shacklebolt's actions were. He was less politically naïve than Harry (seaweed was less politically naïve than Harry), and Severus had a bad habit of letting his preconceptions blind him when he was angry. Draco could notice the interesting things that Shacklebolt said and did and carry them away in his head for later reference.

"I want to know if you'll accept the offer," Shacklebolt said, leaning forwards. "To break the bond or not."

"I'll have to discuss it with my bondmates, of course," Draco said. "Even if I want to be free, they may not want to be."

"My man feels sufficiently confident to try unbinding you no matter what the other two say," Shacklebolt said.

Draco gave Shacklebolt a polite and pitying smile. "When at least one partner in the bond, Harry, has good reason to be wary of you? I don't think we'll try it that way, thanks all the same. Call again when Harry is released from hospital. It'll be more diplomatic to discuss this with all three of us at once." He turned and began to walk up the path to the front door.

"Jenkins," said Shacklebolt, with a sound like a sigh.

Draco heard the beginnings of a chant in Latin, and felt a strong shiver run through him, at a level deeper than the bones. The bond. They're trying to untie the bond.

Draco dropped to the ground and rolled towards the foundation of the house, where Severus had placed the strongest wards. The magic gripping him faltered and fell apart. Draco got to his knees, not daring to lift his head above a certain level in case the picking started again, and called, "Severus!"

Out he came, so silent and dark that Draco felt an apprehensive tremor move through his own body. He started to stand up and catch Severus's arm; in his present temper, he might use Dark Arts, and that could end badly for everyone. But the magic gripped him and made the phoenix mark on his arm flare again, so he dropped back to a crouch.

Either Jenkins couldn't use the magic on more than one person at once, or Severus was moving too fast for him to do so. At any rate, Severus Stunned the Minister and one of the Aurors, and spent a few minutes dueling with the other before he laid him flat on the ground and used an Expelliarmus to summon his wand. Then he turned around and knelt in front of Draco. His face was absolutely white.

"Are you well?" he whispered.

Draco reached up and laid a hand cautiously on his shoulder, then relaxed. The pain he'd felt before had retreated to a faint stinging in his phoenix mark. "Well enough," he said. "He was attacking the bond and not me personally, Severus. Maybe that had something to do with it."

"Do not minimize this." Severus spoke with a force that caused Draco to shut his mouth hastily. "I have done more reading about bonds of this sort. Unbind them, and everything that happened as a result of them is also undone. You and I would once again be in danger of death, Draco, because we would once again bear the Dark Mark. And the Dark Lord would have returned."

Draco shut his eyes and started to shake with reaction. Severus stooped over him, with murmurs too soft for Draco to make out the individual words.

"What happened? I got here as soon as I could."

Draco looked up in disbelief. Harry was running towards them, wrapped only in a loose robe that rippled and billowed around him, revealing the slightly paler scar on his stomach all too well. He reached out an arm, needing the contact at the moment too much to ask for details, and Harry dropped to his knees and looped his arms around Draco's shoulders and Severus's both. Draco felt Severus tense and then calm again.

The bond was alive with raging wildfire as Harry snarled in a low voice, "Kingsley tried to unpick the bond, didn't he? I heard this high scream in my ears, and then my phoenix marks levitated me out of my bed and tugged me towards the house. I didn't know what was going on, but—"

"That is what happened," Severus said, in a heavy tone that made Harry shut up and turn his head in Severus's direction. "And now we must decide what is to be done. The Minister is Stunned and lying on our doorstep. That will not last for long."

Draco nodded. Harry didn't move, though. "When I thought you were in danger," he said in a low voice, staring somewhere between them, "when I thought I might lose you, I didn't know what I would do."

Severus froze, staring. Draco reckoned that he was simply incapable of responding to something like that at the moment.

So it was up to Draco to take the active part in the bond again, and he did, tightening the hold of his arm around Harry and murmuring into his ear, "Shacklebolt will ask you if you want to be free of the bond. I know he will. What are you going to answer?"

Harry turned to look at him. His eyes were shining with that reckless light that Draco had seen cause trouble for him in the past.

But he answered with the confidence and maturity of someone more than twice his age. "It's unthinkable."

Draco turned his head so that his cheek rested on Harry's shoulder and shut his eyes. He did that partially because he would betray more than he meant to if he kept them open now, and he was not quite ready for that—at least not until Harry was ready to open the bonds the other way and feel their emotions.

But he did it partially because he had seen Severus bow his head and sigh slowly through his parted lips, like a weary traveler coming home at last.

*

"What were you thinking?"

Harry hadn't realized how easy it would be to slip into a hard, interrogating mode. Ledbetter and Scarman and the other instructors had told him it was hard to question prisoners, especially when one thought they might have acted from good motives. Harry had listened to their tales in awe and wondered if he could ever do it himself.

But it turned out to be no trouble at all when he was facing someone who had tried to hurt his bondmates. Severus had Transfigured his hospital garment into a proper robe so that he wouldn't look ridiculous, and Kingsley was currently sitting in Harry's bedroom, suitably far from the door and rescue, under a partial Petrificus so that only his face could move. Harry stared at him with arms folded and waited for an answer.

Kingsley closed his eyes slightly and said, "We had received—persuasive evidence—that your decisions were no longer your own, that you were acting under the mental control of someone else. Probably Snape. I thought using shock tactics might make you aware of how out-of-character you were acting, and wake up to questioning the control. But when that did not work, and when we found that your—bondmates—were unwilling to consider their own self-interest, we knew we had to destroy the bond."

"What was this evidence?" Harry asked quietly. He thought about pacing back and forth, the way he really wanted to, but decided it would be more effective if he stood still and stared at Kingsley instead. Sure enough, Kingsley started to shake slightly a moment later, as if he were trying to fight the Petrificus to fidget. "Who gave it to you? Why was it persuasive?"

Kingsley raised his head. His expression was neutral now. Harry wondered if he was beginning to understand what the consequences of his rash actions might have been. "We have had experts studying the bond," he said. "And your Auror instructors have observed you. Your behavior has changed significantly since you started associating with Snape and Malfoy."

Harry took a deep breath to control his irritation. "Of course it has," he said. "I have to watch out for them and protect them." He thought he heard a shuffle from the corridor where Severus and Draco were eavesdropping on the conversation. He hoped they would be quiet and not burst in.

"In unexpected ways," Kingsley said, glaring at him. "And Auror Jenkins, who studied the bond, uncovered a strong trace of Dark magic in it."

"Because it was made from Dark Marks and my scar," Harry said. "Honestly, you don't have any more than that?"

As he had hoped would happen, his scorn stung Kingsley into volunteering more information. "Bonds such as this one tend to give one partner a measure of control over the others," he said. "Given the change in your behavior and the way that your 'bondmates' can summon you at a moment's notice—"

"I'll thank you to speak of them with respect," Harry said quietly.

"And that's what I mean!" Kingsley roared, going red. "You've changed. You were focused on your Auror training and devoted to your girlfriend. Now you spend more time with your 'bondmates' than anyone else, you're going to live with them, and you defend them as you never used to. Someone must be in control of a bond like this, and the most likely choice is that it's a Death Eater skilled in Legilimency. Once he's in control of you, then he could start influencing you against the Ministry. He's already started, prompting you to have that interview with Skeeter and—"

Harry pulled his fringe back from his forehead and his sleeves up from his arms. "The bond took my scar and gave me phoenix marks on both arms, where both Draco and Severus only have one," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm the one in control of the bond if anyone is. Did you know that I can—" He cut himself off. He wasn't about to tell Kingsley that he'd almost willed Draco and Severus to die in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

"I'm spending more time with them, and exhibiting the other 'suspicious' behavior, because I've finally realized the risk of staying at a distance from them," he continued. "I don't want them to die. So, yes, I'll spend time with them, and live in the same house with them, and think about them as well as about Auror training in the future." Then he cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. "Not that I'll have to worry about that, since you've kicked me out of Auror training."

Kingsley flexed his arms as though trying to break out of his bonds. Harry raised an eyebrow and strengthened the hold of the Petrificus on his lower body. "We can't have someone in the Ministry who has your power and your potential hostility to us," Kingsley said. "I saw that when you demanded a trial for Pepperfield. Once, you wouldn't have cared who hurt Malfoy. We know that you were rivals with him throughout your school career. We thought we could count on that same tension to make you oppose pure-blood decisions like the ones the Malfoys want to force through. If we can't—"

Harry closed his eyes. He felt disgusted with the universe. "I'm not going to support pure-blood legislation because Draco's my bondmate," he said. "And I'm not going to let someone hurt him because I used to dislike him. God, Kingsley, do you ever stop being a politician for one moment and think? Did you think about what would happen if you let Huxley attack me and go unpunished, for example?"

"That wasn't—as planned," Kingsley said with some difficulty. "Huxley was one of those who had expressed concern to us, but she said only that she planned to speak to you about it and ask you to reconsider living with two Death Eaters. We didn't know that she would attack you. Please accept my apologies over that, Harry."

Harry opened one eye and looked at him sidelong. "But you're not sorry enough to try her."

Kingsley flushed more deeply. "If we did, she would reveal some information that would cause further upsets for us if it got out."

"You realize," Harry said, "that every word you speak only gives me further reason to turn against the Ministry. It seems to be an astonishingly badly-organized and ill-run place." He wondered for a moment where he was getting these words, then smiled sourly. I suspect that's what comes of paying attention to my teachers for once.

"We had to do something," Kingsley said. "I'm sorry that the situation got out of control, but, Harry, surely you see that we had to do something?" His voice was gentle, pleading.

"No," Harry said. "You could have come and talked to me about your concerns, but that doesn't seem to have occurred to you at any step of the way!" He was shouting by the end. He took a deep breath and did his best to calm down.

"I did try to do that when you accused Pepperfield," Kingsley said. "Your attitude convinced me that you wouldn't be receptive."

Harry surveyed him coolly. "That was a pathetic attempt."

Kingsley set his jaw. "You've got to understand what sort of message it sends to the public, your living with two Death Eaters," he said. "You're powerful, Harry. We have to control the messages you send. This is the wrong one."

And that's the reason this happened, Harry decided. He can't see me, the person. He only sees Harry Potter, the vehicle of interpretation. Someone interpreting me wrongly panics him and sends him veering in mad directions. He also seems prone to think that a few people getting upset means the whole of the wizarding world getting upset.

A vicious idea came to him suddenly. Harry paused and wondered if he should warn Kingsley. Then he decided to give him one more chance.

"I won't stop living with Draco and Severus," he said. "I won't stop protecting them. I won't agree to let you unpick the bond. But if I work with you closely on other things and work my way back into the Auror program and act chastened when you need me to, will you try Huxley and Pepperfield? Properly? And agree to stop persecuting Draco and Severus?"

"Have you forgotten what Snape did?" Kingsley whispered. "He killed Dumbledore. And you stand here calling him by his first name. As if he were an old friend. As if you've forgiven him."

Harry studied him again. Kingsley's teeth were grinding, his voice barely let go between them. Harry had thought it was a good idea to have a Minister of Magic who had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but at the moment he recognized some of the drawbacks.

"Dumbledore made him swear an Unbreakable Vow," Harry said. "You know that. He's the greatest hero of the lot of us. You know that."

Kingsley shook his head. "I can't accept someone as a hero who once wore the Dark Mark on his arm in all sincerity. I can't, Harry. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Harry said. He would have liked to stay with the Ministry. Losing its protection would mean less protection for Draco and Severus, and a harder and more winding road to get his bondmates respected by the public. But he wasn't about to stay close to someone who had damaged them, and couldn't even promise future protection for them to make up for it. "You won't agree to my bargain?"

Kingsley shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, and then turned for the door.

*

He's the greatest hero of the lot of us.

Severus did not know how he was going to recover from the shocks of this day.

Harry really had got the article into the paper, the way he promised he would. He had come to their rescue again when he felt the bond being tampered with, and refused to have it removed. He had let Severus and Draco listen in on what could have been a confidential conversation with the Minister, wherein he fought for them like a bulldog. And now, this.

Draco and Harry both wanted the bond deeply enough to fight against those who would try to take it away. Severus had not yet had the chance to fight, but at least he knew for certain what his own feelings were on this matter.

I want this.

Then Harry opened the door of his bedroom, stepped out, shut the door, cast a spell on it that would prevent Shacklebolt from hearing anything they were saying, turned back with his eyes blazing bright, and said, "Do you think it's too vicious if I call Skeeter right now and let her see the Minister tied up in our house?"