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"It isn't going to be easy, you know."
Harry gave Hermione a faint smile, not wanting to tell her how relieved he was that she had shown up and seemed to be on his side despite his breakup with Ginny. He thought she might be offended by that. He sat up against the pillows—after two days in the bed, he could do that all by himself, though he was still disgusted at how long he was taking to heal from a simple wound—and leaned across so that he could see the paper Hermione was straightening. "I know. Has Skeeter published an article defaming me yet?"
Hermione blinked at him for a minute. Maybe she hadn't anticipated that Harry would actually be that intelligent about Skeeter. Then she said, "Not her, but others. There are some saying that this all a Death Eater plot, and that the Minister hasn't actually done anything to you that he needs to apologize for."
Harry sighed. "Of course they would say that. What about Huxley? Are they defending her?"
"They've been silent about her." Hermione nibbled her lip. "I'm worried, though, Harry. There are many people who think that Kingsley's done a good job for his first months in office, especially because he used to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix and they like that connection. The storm of resentment might build against you to the point where it wouldn't be safe for you to go out in public."
"The way it isn't safe for Draco and Severus right now?" Harry asked dryly.
Hermione flushed. "I didn't," she said, and then stopped. Her fingers ran up and down the seam of the blanket. Harry folded his arms and waited for her to continue.
"You have to remember why so many people feel that way," Hermione whispered. "You have to remember what the Death Eaters did during the war."
"And you have to remember what Severus did," Harry retorted instantly. "We wouldn't have found the Sword of Gryffindor without him, and then we wouldn't have been able to destroy the locket, and then—"
"I know, Harry." Hermione cast him a look of pure misery. "But you know that we can't tell the truth about that. Then people would probably get interested in the idea of Horcruxes. At least, the idiots who want to resurrect Voldemort would." She brought her hands down in her lap with a gesture of finality. "We can't show as much of his heroism as we'd like, and the kind we can talk about isn't the kind that people understand. The vast majority of them will never see why it's heroic to kill someone because he asked you to and then govern in his place for a year, all the time trying to keep students from being too badly hurt."
"I know they don't understand." Harry lowered his voice so that Hermione would realize he didn't blame her. She wasn't against Draco and Severus, but she was frustrated that so many people were. "I'll fight an uphill battle until they do, that's all."
Hermione cast him a haunted look. "I don't know if their minds will ever change, Harry."
Harry shrugged. "Then I'll fight until they do," he repeated, and charged on before Hermione could give him another pessimistic speech. "I want to start a campaign to shift public attention to my side. What do you think the most effective way to do that would be?"
Hermione blinked, pursed her lips, and then said, "Well, you would need more allies besides Brynhildr Swanfair and Rita Skeeter. Neither of them is the kind of person that the normal wizarding public would consider good. The Weasleys aren't enough, either. They've been associated with you for too long, and the novelty has worn off." Harry concealed a chuckle. Hermione, as much as she loved Ron and the rest of his family, could take as detached a tone as Severus when talking about them, if she wanted. "I think I would seek out other Muggleborn heroes—ones other than Huxley—and tell them that you want to make sure the Ministry doesn't change into what they fought. They'll have an interest in that. And play up your connection with Andromeda Tonks and Teddy. Her husband died in the war, and Remus and Tonks died in the Battle of Hogwarts." Hermione rubbed at her eyes for a moment, and Harry cleared his throat and glanced away. "That'll grab some attention."
"I haven't seen Teddy in four weeks," Harry mused. "I did send him a Christmas present, but I'd like to visit him again." He hesitated. "I'm not sure that I can use him or Andromeda as political pawns, though."
"They'll be used that way anyway," Hermione told him. "Either the newspapers will think it's sweet that you're visiting him, your little orphaned godson, or they'll suggest that you want him for some nefarious purpose now that you're bonded to two Death Eaters. You might as well control the publicity and shelter Teddy and Andromeda as much as you can."
"You're awfully good at this," Harry murmured, peering at her from beneath his fringe.
"I hate being good at it," said Hermione with unexpected ferocity, her eyes flashing. "But someone has to be. And people who are stupid and believe stupid things about you deserve to have us deciding what they see and hear." She rose to her feet and gathered up the papers she'd brought with her. "Ask Snape and Malfoy, too. They might have opinions about political contacts I've never heard of."
Harry reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Hermione. I…when do you think Ron will come back?"
"Not for a little while." Hermione squeezed his hand back and gave him a keen, sympathetic glance. "He's taken your breaking up with Ginny pretty hard. I think he thinks that he'll lose you to Snape and Malfoy now that you don't have a strong connection to the Weasleys."
"My connection to the Weasleys will always be strong as long as he's my best friend and my brother." Harry leaned back on the pillows and frowned at her. "Severus and Draco can't take those roles away from him."
Hermione's face relaxed into a smile. "Thanks, Harry. I'll tell him that you said that, in those exact words. I think that's what he needed to hear: just that his best friend was still his best friend and would always be with him." She pecked him on the cheek and slipped out of the room.
Harry folded his arms behind his head and contemplated the ceiling. Of course the Weasleys wouldn't like it that he'd broken up with Ginny, or she'd broken up with him. (Fairness to himself compelled him to remember that it had really happened that way around). He should have thought—
The door to his room banged open. Harry dived for his wand before he realized it was Severus and Draco, and they held large boxes covered in bright paper and wore determined expressions. He blinked. "Er. Are you all right?"
"We're doing this right now," Draco announced, and set down his box at the foot of the bed. "We bought you Christmas presents ages ago, and what with your almost getting killed and tying up the Minister and then falling down the stairs—"
"I didn't fall down the stairs," Harry started to protest. Honestly, how in the world was he supposed to convince them he was healing if they made up lies that they then believed? "I only wavered and almost fell down them."
Draco glared at him. "And that's so much better, of course," he said. "Well. We wanted to give you these presents before you could do something else that would make it impossible to give them to you."
Harry bit his tongue so that he wouldn't say that all those things that prevented him from receiving the gifts hadn't been his fault. They would probably get into a tedious argument, and he didn't want that.
Besides, he had to admit to a tiny bit of private happiness that they'd bought him gifts. Ever since Hagrid and Hedwig, gifts were no longer a complete novelty, but part of him would apparently be eleven and just away from the Dursleys forever.
"Your gifts were well-chosen," Severus said in a soft voice that claimed Harry's attention at once. He placed his large box down in the middle of the bed, though Harry could have sat up in a chair if he wanted to. Severus had that ridiculous notion that he shouldn't "strain" himself too far, of course. "We hope that we have chosen ours equally well."
"I'm sure you did," Harry said, and smiled at him before picking up the box and tearing into the paper. Severus winced. Harry didn't care. He liked the sound of tearing paper, and he wanted to get the box open rather than sit around admiring the wrapping like Aunt Petunia.
Inside was a heavy book. Harry turned it over, expecting to see a title on the spine that would have something to do with Potions, but to his surprise, there was no title at all. He opened the book, noting absently that the pages were thick, velvety paper and easy to turn, and looked for a table of contents or a title on the inside or something that would tell him what the book was.
Almost at once, he recognized some of the potions that had been in the Half-Blood Prince's potions book. This time, though, the notations that had been added to that book in Severus's handwriting were incorporated into the recipes themselves. Harry flicked through the pages and recognized the spells that he'd used during that year, too, including some that he never got to try.
Harry raised his eyes and looked at Severus. He didn't quite understand. There were several things the book could mean. Was Severus mocking him?
"You can use this knowledge to defend yourself, now," Severus told him. His hands tightened around each other for a moment, creating a joined constellation of stains. He must have been brewing some particularly difficult potion that morning, Harry thought absently, since it had splashed him so thoroughly. "I have included everything I thought useful from that first book, as well as knowledge that I only learned afterwards."
Harry let his eyes flicker to Draco. Has he forgotten that I used one of the spells to hurt the man who's his lover, now?
When he looked back to Severus, he found a solemn gaze waiting for him, so open that Severus might have been inviting Legilimency—so deep that it made Harry uneasy. But from the way Severus made a slow gesture at the book and nodded, Harry thought he understood the silent message.
It's different because he trusts me now. He thinks that I'll treat the knowledge with respect, the way I wouldn't have before.
Harry had to look down at the book and stroke the pages as if admiring them, because his throat was tight and his eyes would be wet in a moment, and that was not on. Then he glanced at Draco, who was holding his box out importantly. This box was smaller than Severus's, and Harry opened it with a more intense feeling of caution. If Severus had got him a copy of the Half-Blood Prince's book, he had no idea what Draco would have got him, except that it would be double-edged.
It was a sparkling silver potion that looked like brook water in sunlight. Harry wrinkled his forehead and turned the vial in several different directions, but didn't see a name on it. He turned to Draco. "All right, I give up. What is it?"
"By the time I'm done tutoring you in Potions, you'll be able to name a potion like that without a pause," Draco murmured critically, but he put on a bright smile at a warning glance from Severus. "It's called the Ordinary Potion. It only works on people who have some degree of notoriety, like the Minister—or you. When you drink a dose of it, then you can walk around in plain sight and people will only pay as much attention to you as they do to someone who's not famous."
Harry blinked and stroked the vial with one finger, carefully not looking at Draco. They would think his emotion stupid and a weakness, probably, but it meant a lot to him that Draco was willing to let Harry try to make himself ordinary instead of important. After all, that meant that Draco didn't care about his partners being politically powerful and outstanding all the time; he was willing to accept a normal Harry.
And though he couldn't possibly have known about it, it felt as though he'd guessed at and granted a private wish of Harry's: to be "just Harry."
"Thank you," he said, when he could find his voice. "That—means a lot to me." And then his voice cracked and he sounded stupid, so he coughed and hurried past the moment before either of them could realize something was wrong. "Hermione suggested making friends with the Muggleborn heroes other than Huxley, and bringing Andromeda and Teddy into the spotlight, if they would agree to come. But she also said I should ask you if you knew any political connections she was overlooking. Well?" He lay back on the pillows and looked from one to the other of them, his hands still resting on the book and the potions vial, because he couldn't bear to let them go.
Draco and Severus exchanged a long glance in which they seemed to say thirty things at once. Harry scowled, wondering if he could do that, or if it was a skill reserved for former Slytherins alone. I wish I knew what they were thinking more often.
There was a simple solution to that, of course. He could open the bonds the other way, so that he could feel their emotions as well as them feeling his.
But Harry refused the notion the moment it occurred to him. He still didn't want to spy on them just because they had to spy on him to live. And they'd been fine about not using the knowledge gained from his emotions against him—unless he wanted to count Severus's weird attempt to make him admit his pain, which Harry knew was there, but which wasn't important—but Harry couldn't be sure he would be the same way. He didn't trust himself.
So, all in all, it would be better for him to leave the bonds closed, and just muddle along the way ordinary humans without phoenix marks had to do. Besides, he had his Christmas presents now. That showed they cared about him. He placed his hands on the presents again, and waited for them to emerge from their silent communion.
*
Draco gave a small nod. Severus took the invitation for what it was and cleared his throat as the first to speak.
"There may be those whose gratitude we can draw upon among my former students," he began carefully. For all he knew, though Harry had adopted certain…softer feelings towards two particular former Slytherins, he would not wish to associate with others. "Your defeat of the Dark Lord ended a year of suffering for most of them, when they were forced to see the name of Slytherin House abused again and again as justification for torture and hatred. I believe their families would help us."
Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. Severus wondered if he realized that he was practically cuddling the book and the potion vial. "Are you sure they wouldn't blame me for not doing something to rescue them earlier?"
Severus snorted. "Slytherins are not so unreasonable."
Harry's other eyebrow joined the one currently crowding his fringe.
"In this, they truly are not," Severus insisted. He had observed Draco's yearmates such as Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode during the occupation of the school that they had been told was such a "triumph" for them, as members of Slytherin House, pure-bloods, and future members of the Dark Lord's army, and he had seen how their faces and their souls changed. "They have seen the consequences of irrationality and passionate devotion to a single cause up close."
"I still don't know if they'd take it well if I approached them." Harry's face had a shadow on it, and the bond resonated and trembled with more shadows, reminding Severus of leaves in too-bright sunlight. "Maybe you should begin the overtures."
"Of course," Draco said dryly. Harry shot him a look that had both irritation and affection in it. Severus watched as Draco absorbed those emotions like a flower the sun and reflected parts of them back at Harry. "We weren't about to leave such a precarious thing up to you. Who do you think we are?"
"Not brain-damaged by worship of me?" Harry said, in a passable imitation of Draco's voice.
Draco tapped Harry's elbow sharply, which made Harry grin. Severus swallowed and remind himself that he had no cause for jealousy. Not only were Harry and Draco close to the same age, there were reasons for antagonism between Severus and Harry that Draco had no reason to share.
And I truly do not think they will leave me out when they are ready to be together. It was there in the way Harry held his gift as tenderly as he held Draco's, and in the bright-eyed glance Draco cast Severus a moment later, before he leaned forwards.
"We should start with the Bulstrodes," he said confidentially to Severus. "They have Muggle blood, and they'll have that reason to be grateful for the ending of the war, which the others won't. Besides, I've heard some rumors that they mean to leave the country because of anti-Slytherin harassment. If we could provide a safe haven for them, they would have every reason to give us strong support."
Severus nodded. "Do not stress the gratitude too much," he cautioned Draco. "You know Millicent's pride, and her father is even worse."
Draco snorted. "Trust me to know the best ways of dealing with Millicent after seven years of sharing a common room with her," he said. "I can at least ensure she comes around, and then I think the rest of her family will follow. They'll do almost anything to oblige her, their darling only girl." He rolled his eyes.
Severus snorted in return. "I would also remove that tone from your voice before you speak with her."
"What do you think I am, a Gryff—a Hufflepuff?" Draco retorted in an unusually clumsy save before he rose to his feet and gestured vaguely at the bedroom door. "I'll start writing that letter now." And he hurried out before Severus could advise him to apologize.
When he turned to Harry, however, he saw that Harry didn't like angry about the insult to his House. Instead, he was gazing wistfully after Draco. In his eyes was a yearning that Severus had seen before when some of his Slytherins felt shut out from the social life of the rest of the school.
He spoke out of instinct, and wondered if that was best when he saw the wary way Harry's eyes shifted to him.
"You need not feel separated from us. It is true that Draco and I share common experiences, but we would welcome your sharing of them." He pitched his voice as low and soothingly as he could, so that Harry would not want to back away for lack of sympathy.
"I know," Harry said, and hurried past the words and into another subject before Severus could pin him down. He wondered if that was yet another of the strategies Harry had evolved for ignoring his own pain. "Do you think it's wise to get in contact with Brynhildr Swanfair? Draco sounded so uncertain that I didn't want to ask in front of him."
Severus felt an entirely inappropriate swell of pride within him. Yes, there were things that he and Harry alone would share, although the same was true for Harry and Draco and for Draco and Severus. "She is powerful," he said, "and I think it wise to extract some guarantees for her behavior before she visits us. But if we do not accept her help, we risk offending her."
"And that would be bad," Harry summarized, "even though accepting it might also be bad." He sighed. "I don't understand the world of politics."
"You have developing instincts," Severus said. I will not let him forever put himself down if I can help it. I used to think he was seeking compliments when he did so, but now I believe that behavior is so deeply ingrained he no longer notices. "You knew that it would be best to leave Draco and me to approach the Slytherins, for example."
Harry shot him a startled glance. "But that's just common sense."
Severus gave a small shake of his head and stood. Perhaps now was not the right time to confront Harry over his continual self-deprecation. But eventually, he would make time. Otherwise, Harry would only go on shoving it away and refusing to deal with his own emotions. "Rest now for a time. I will be back shortly to give you the final one of your regime of pain-easing potions."
"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered, and sank back into the pillows as though he'd been released from a death sentence.
Severus held his body still to prevent Harry from getting any glimpses of his emotions, and waited until he could respond with a mild tone in his voice. "Does drinking potions I have brewed cause you such distress, then?"
"It's not that," Harry said hastily, as if he had guessed what Severus was feeling after all and wanted to reassure him. "But I hate taking any potions. Especially pain-easing potions. They cloud my mind. I feel like I should always be alert, especially now that we have so many people who hate us."
Severus added that small note to the stack of evidence he was collecting that Harry did not spend enough time worrying about his own pain, and inclined his head. "This is the last one," he repeated before he slipped out.
This time, his hands did not shake as he stood outside Harry's door. Of course, the conversation they had just had was not as revealing as the one they had conducted three days ago.
I am becoming easier with this, all the same.
*
Draco nibbled the feather of his quill thoughtfully. How best to begin a letter to Millicent? He doubted that reminding her about the time he found her vomiting after she watched the Carrows torture a Hufflepuff was the best way to get her favorably disposed towards him.
But he wanted something like that, something that would remind her, tactfully, that the war had happened and that she owed her freedom from the Dark Lord to Draco's bondmate.
Draco spent a moment luxuriating in the thought of Harry being his bondmate—he had always wanted someone who would be his before they were anyone else's, and now he had two of them—and then turned back to the letter. Thinking of Harry and Severus had told him what he ought to write. Trade a vulnerability for a vulnerability.
Dear Millicent,
I dare say that you're surprised to hear from me. Maybe you thought that I considered myself too high and mighty to contact former schoolmates now that I'm bonded to Harry Potter. But I'm also bonded to Severus Snape, and so I've come face-to-face with the hatred that many people have for him. Not to mention the hatred many people have for Harry. You've probably read about that in the newspapers.
I hate the hatred, Millie. They won't take the time to understand nuances, those people who only want to throw curses. They don't understand that killing Dumbledore hurt Severus far worse than it hurt any of those people who hadn't seen him in decades. They don't understand that Harry had to compromise to live with us, instead of deciding he'd do it to make everyone angry.
Draco paused, read what he'd written so far, and then nodded. Yes. He'd called her by a nickname, taking a chance; he'd called Harry and Severus by their first names, to show how close he was to them; and he'd confessed his own inner feelings. Millicent might still scorn him in the end, but at least he thought she would be intrigued enough to read further, wondering what he could want from her that was worth exposing his weaknesses like this and sounding gentle and soft.
I think it's time to remind them—and "they" might include some of the people who were at Hogwarts with us—what all of us sacrificed and suffered. I'd like to invite you and your father to come to a meeting at our house in Hogsmeade. The date hasn't been decided yet, but that's partially because we'd like to involve you in the decision process at all levels.
There. That was nicely flattering.
We need to a make a strong political counterpush to the Minister's little campaign to get Harry, Severus, and I arrested or assassinated. I don't know that Harry's accepted that yet; he seems happy with making a few decisions and hoping for the best. But we'll need to build a party of our own. I know it.
And that would tell Millicent that he wasn't entirely under Harry's thumb when it came to his political actions. He knew his yearmates would require that sort of reassurance. None of them would want to do simply what a Gryffindor told them to do.
What features of the counterpush do you think are best? We'll be waiting for your contribution.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy.
Draco finished the letter with a flourish and then whistled softly. The owl Severus had bought for him the other day, when they had agreed that they would need a way to send secure correspondence that didn't depend on the ordinary post, flew through the window. Draco spent a moment admiring him. He was only a barn owl, but he had magically sharpened claws and a beak and a bad temper. That was the reason Severus had chosen him; he thought this bird would defend its message better than many others.
Draco fastened the letter to its leg, earning himself several pecks for his pains. The owl never drew blood, but he did appear to want Draco to know that he was doing him a favor.
"Fly," Draco whispered. "Take this message to Millicent Bulstrode." He threw his hand up gravely. The owl bit his thumb before flying away.
Draco leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as he stretched his legs out on the table. He was humming to himself smugly. He had made a contribution to the business of keeping them safe, and a contribution that only he could make. He didn't have to feel that he wasn't giving as much to the bond as Severus was, with his ability to brew potions, and as Harry was, with his determination that would drill a hole in mountains.
"Draco?"
He started and almost tumbled backwards at the sound of Severus's voice from behind him. Severus shot out a hand and steadied the chair, giving Draco an even look as it came back to resting on its legs. Draco cleared his throat and shook his head. "Was there something you needed, Severus?" he asked. "I finished writing that letter to Millicent, and I think we'll get a response, even if not necessarily a favorable one."
Severus gave him the narrow, dark smile that Draco knew meant he was pleased with him, and which no one else would ever see, not even Harry. "I must bring one more potion to Harry for his health," he said. "Then I would appreciate it if you would join me in the bedroom."
It was a haughty command. Draco (sometimes) didn't mind when he got haughty commands, so he stood up with a smile. "Mouth or arse this time?" he asked. "Or perhaps a hand or rubbing together?"
It was nice to know that some things he said could still make Severus blush like a virgin.
*
Harry stood up, hanging onto the bed, and took a single tottering step. At least it didn't make him feel as if he wanted to vomit this time.
I shouldn't be feeling as if I wanted to vomit at all! Stupid gut wound. I almost die and then I'm suddenly in bed for a week? Most of the times that I almost died, I healed more quickly than that.
Harry gritted his teeth and took another step. He knew that he needed to stay physically safe and healthy so that Draco and Severus could have a chance to live. He knew that. But he was so bored, and there was no law that said he should have to stay in bed for this long. He probably could have been up and moving around two days ago, but Draco and Severus had an unfortunate habit of popping into the room and staring at him when he tried to do anything more active than sitting up to eat.
Not this afternoon. They were busy with a complicated potion, and they'd barely asked Harry if he would be all right before they disappeared. Harry had assured them that of course he would be, and climbed out of bed the moment he heard the potions lab door close.
Now he just had to make it to the other side of the room.
Harry gritted his teeth, set his jaw, and began to walk. Sweat poured down his forehead. A desperate aching surged across his stomach, as if his stupid guts were still sliding out of alignment. Why does it take a week to fix this? Surely they've dealt with a Gut Chewing Curse before me?
But if he pursued that line of thought, then he would have to wonder if Severus was right and Harry had made matters worse because he'd ignored his intestines sliding around as he defended Draco and Severus. He didn't want to wonder about that, so he concentrated on the far wall.
And then the house shook.
Harry whirled around and caught his breath as pain briefly stabbed him through the gut, but the house shook again, and the wards trembled, and fear for his bondmates urged him to practically leap across the room so that he could look out the window.
He saw a flash of dark robes, and for a moment thought Death Eaters! But the voice that was yelling beyond the wards didn't recite words that sounded like the ones Harry would have expected from Death Eaters.
"Coward, you're supposed to be the hero of our world and you go running to the Minister for help?" Another blast. Harry, clinging to the windowsill, thought the witch in question was probably striking at the foundations of the wards, where they joined the earth, and so sending shocks running into the foundations of the house as well. "For that matter, you're supposed to be the hero of our world and you live with Death Eaters? I challenge you to a wizard's duel, Harry Potter. Come out and show me what you're made of, unless you're afraid and need to hide behind your Minister and Death Eaters to protect yourself!"
The taunt about being afraid started a fire burning in Harry's brain. He turned towards the stairs—
Then Draco burst through the bedroom door, panting, and said, "It's Huxley."
Harry narrowed his eyes, the fire in his brain at once cooling to little more than ashes. "Oh, is it?" he murmured. He made a few rapid calculations. The flying magic from Huxley's attack on the wards had to have alerted other people in Hogsmeade. Her previous attack on Harry had been quick, possible to ignore; at least, Harry didn't have proof that any of his neighbors had seen it. But this time, they ought to have an audience, even if they only peered from behind curtains.
He smiled and held out an arm to Draco. "Help me downstairs," he said. "And make sure that Severus is behind us when we go out to confront her. I think we ought to face her as a triad, don't you?"
"No, I don't," Draco said, and tried to tug him in the direction of the bed. "I think it's much better if we all remain behind the wards until both she and your temporary madness about facing her have gone away."
Harry went limp, so that Draco had to support or drop him. Then he locked his legs and climbed back up to stand on his feet, never looking away from Draco's face. He had discovered already that Draco was more influenced by a direct gaze then he would probably ever admit to himself.
"No," he said, softly. "We have to face this. I'm tired of allowing other people to do whatever they want, including trying to hurt me and my bondmates. This time, she's damaging our home and our public reputation. More people will believe that you and Severus are in charge of my movements if we don't go out and face her. At the very least, we can offer them something different to believe."
Draco swallowed. He started to say something, twice, and each time stopped with another swallow. Finally, he bowed his head. Harry watched him through Huxley's next attack on the wards and tried to ignore his own impatience.
"What is it?" he finally whispered, when he thought Draco wouldn't speak without encouragement.
"I don't want you to show yourself," Draco said, in a voice that Harry thought he was trying to make louder, but which stayed soft and choked no matter what he did. "I don't want you to put yourself in danger. I know that Severus doesn't, either. You've already suffered so much. Why can't we dare this danger, while you stay in hiding?" His hands pressed down suddenly on Harry's.
"Because they won't believe you in the way they'll believe me," Harry said gently. "I'm Harry Potter. My name and face are still what we need to convince them. I know, it's not fair. You should be respected for what you are and what you did—"
"We don't care about being respected by people like Huxley." Draco was staring intently into his face. "We care about keeping you safe. I said that."
Harry was relieved to see the return of Draco's irritation. It was something normal after the trouble he'd had showing his emotions.
"You'll be helping to keep me safe by helping me face her," he said calmly. "Now, let's go downstairs." The attacks on the wards had lessened, probably because Huxley was getting tired, but her screams for him to come out still went on. Harry knew that anyone watching would think he was a coward at the moment. He didn't intend to let Huxley have it all her own way.
Draco sighed, a sound that seemed to come from his toes, and took Harry's arm. Harry gave him a smile, which didn't lessen the sharp lines of worry his face was carved in. Harry hoped that seeing how well he handled Huxley would do that.
*
Draco kept one eye on Harry as they opened the door of the house and Harry stepped onto the front stoop. His face was as pale as Weasley's had got when Draco was keeping her away, and almost all his weight rested on the hands he had on Draco and Severus's arms.
For all that, he stepped forwards as if he felt fine and was in the best of shape, going out to battle a dragon.
Draco and Severus exchanged glances over Harry's head. Once again, he was refusing to pay much attention to his pain.
Or—it's not that, even, Draco thought in frustration as he looked towards the garden wall, beyond the shimmer of the wards, and saw Huxley spring to attention at the sight of them. I've known people who ignored pain because they thought it made them look good or tough, and Harry isn't doing that. But it's as though the goal he has at the moment gets all his attention and his pain is a distant second.
Draco didn't have much more idea how to deal with it than Severus did.
He locked his arm into place around Harry's shoulder and behind his back, at the moment Severus did the same. Harry nodded to both of them and then faced Huxley with narrowed eyes and lifted head.
"I thought so!" Huxley yelled, her voice projected by a Sonorus Charm but distorted by the wards. "You can't do anything without the support of your Death Eaters, can you? A hero, indeed! I'm more a hero than you are, even though I saved fewer people, because at least I didn't betray the cause I fought for immediately!"
Severus hissed under his breath, and Draco nodded at him, though he wasn't sure Severus had paid attention to the gesture. It was sounding less and less as though Huxley was a Muggleborn who had just decided randomly to attack Harry, and more and more as though someone had put her up to it—someone who probably wanted to claim Harry's place in the politics of the wizarding world.
Harry didn't pay attention to that, of course. In fact, he had probably dismissed the words about his heroism the moment they reached his ears, Draco thought. He had a habit of doing that. "And does a hero murder?" he was asking Huxley now, in a mild voice. "Does she use a Gut Chewing Curse on someone who's never done anything to offend her?"
"You did offend me!" Even muffled, Huxley had a mighty screech. "You turned your back on the cause I fought for and you should have stayed with the moment it was safe and convenient to do so!"
"Your accusations don't even make any sense." Harry sounded bored. Draco concealed an exultant grin. That was exactly the right tone to take—though, in this case, he thought that boredom was Harry's real emotion and not a calculated move. That was all right. Sometimes Harry's instincts could guide them, and then Severus and Draco would come in with their own political support. "Why would I kill Voldemort if I wanted Death Eater support? And why would I choose two people whom most of the wizarding world despises to assist me in my treachery? There are other Death Eaters I could have picked, such as the ones who were tried and exonerated, or barely involved."
Draco winced. It was true, what Harry had said about him and Severus, but still, it was a bit brutal to hear the words spit out like that.
He looked at Severus, but there was no sign that he had even heard Harry. He was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, probably trying to absorb every nuance of Huxley's behavior that he could. Draco told himself to stop caring as much about personal insults and attend to important things the way Severus did.
"You have power!" Huxley was saying shrilly now. "You could want to take over the wizarding world, and you would have killed You-Know-Who because he was a rival."
"That still doesn't explain why I would have chosen Draco and Severus to help me." Harry took a single limping step forwards. Draco danced a moment, but luckily managed to support him in the way he needed before he either fell over or looked ridiculous. "As for power, I defeated Voldemort through luck and accidental magic. I had no idea what I was doing. Does that sound like a wizard who has a lot of power in battle to you?"
Severus's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing. Draco wasn't sure why, though. He resolved to pay even closer attention.
"Your accidental magic could—" Huxley began.
"No, it couldn't," Harry said, and his voice was sharp with anger. "That's why it's accidental magic. I had no idea how to control it, no idea what it would do when it flew away from me and started creating the bonds between me and Draco and Severus. I couldn't use it as a weapon against you. I don't want to use it as a weapon against you. There would be no point. You don't have anything I want.
"And I'm sick and tired of people telling me that I should sacrifice more for them than I did. I gave up my upbringing in the wizarding world, because it would have been too dangerous for me to be raised by people who might turn out to be Death Eaters, or in a place where Death Eaters could get to me. My parents died. I gave up a peaceful childhood. Do you know how many times I faced Voldemort, in one form or another, when I was at school and not even of age yet? Four. How many times did you face him?"
Huxley started to answer, but Harry bulled straight ahead, his words lashing out with a ferocity that told Draco how long he had been suppressing them.
"Then I faced him after giving up my seventh year at Hogwarts to destroy him, and finally killed him. But even then, I had to give up part of my freedom to be bonded." He pushed his sleeves back from his arms, showing the phoenixes. "I can feel what Draco and Severus do. I have to share magic with them to content the bond. You know that, because you read it in Skeeter's article. Tell me, does that sound like fun?"
Draco stiffened and took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that Harry wasn't disparaging him and Severus, or even the bonds that tied them together. He was simply trying to remind the idiots who saw them that he hadn't chosen this, which was perfectly true. What he got from the bond at the moment was anger like trees on fire, and that self-loathing like a thin yellow liquid, without the despair that had earlier haunted it.
"I've given up more than any of you," Harry went on in a rising voice. He turned and looked at the windows of the other houses in Hogsmeade. "The very least I deserve is to be left in peace. Instead, I almost gave up my life because this woman used a Gut Chewing Curse on me and left me in hospital for days. Then the Minister kicked me out of the Auror program, so I lost the career that I was going to have, and he nearly cost me my bondmates. He did cost me his friendship.
"If you still think I should sacrifice things for you and your precious world? Fuck you. I don't care how much fighting you did, how many sacrifices you made. They were still less than mine."
He turned away, his head bowed, breathing harshly. Draco wasn't sure how much of that was from anger and how much from pain and weakness. He shifted his arm so that Harry could lean on him anyway, feeling adrenaline surge through him. If Huxley had attacked at that moment, Draco thought he could have blasted her apart.
"That was right," he whispered to Harry. "You were right."
"Indeed you were," Severus said. His eyes were brilliant in the way that they became when one of his students, wronged by another professor, produced evidence that vindicated him. "That was the right thing to say, and it has given them something to think about. I suspect many of them did not know that Huxley tried to murder you. Now that information will spread, and they will wonder more at the Ministry for releasing her."
Harry gave a heavy huff. Draco was not sure what that meant, but he tightened his grip on Harry just in case. The self-loathing in the bond grew brighter, and Draco exchanged another glance with Severus. Yes, we must address this.
Steady applause interrupted them then. Draco picked up his wand to aim and looked over his shoulder.
Near Huxley stood a tall woman with a face more pointy than Draco's, long silver hair hanging to her shoulders, and yellow eyes like an owl's. Her hands and her body were both stick-thin; even her expensive white robes could not conceal that. She clasped her hands together as Draco watched and gave them an equally thin smile with colorless lips.
"Very well done," she said. "I have made the right decision in coming myself."
Draco opened his mouth to ask who she was, but Severus cut across him before he could. "Brynhildr Swanfair. Welcome."
Swanfair bowed slightly. "Indeed. Will you invite me in?" She glanced at Huxley. "If I you require a guest gift, I have someone here who would make an excellent one, once trussed and appropriately punished for her actions against you."
