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Swanfair was seated in one of their ground floor eating areas, sipping tea. She had not brought Huxley in as a guest gift. She had brought a large smile, and swift hands, and keen eyes, and a presence that made Severus feel as if she could be hedged round in wards and not be safe.
This is a dangerous woman.
But in that he only said what was obvious, and what he felt sure Draco and Harry would scold him for. So he kept silent, and let Swanfair speak, in a constant, light stream of chatter about how she had not known what sorts of opposition they faced from the rest of the wizarding world until she saw the newspaper articles in response to Skeeter's articles, and how she would like to help them face it.
Severus wondered idly who she thought the performance would convince. Draco was already on his guard simply from hearing her last name; she belonged to one of the families that the Malfoys had feuded with and contented for power against. Harry—pale but determined to not look weak in front of Swanfair, a plan Severus had reluctantly approved—sat on the couch and watched her with a wary expression. Severus doubted that he automatically believed offers of help any more.
One of the sacrifices he did not list was his innocence. But it seemed that either the ones he had listed or the arrival of Swanfair had impressed Huxley, because she had left quietly after a few last-minute threats.
"Enough about me," Swanfair said, setting the teacup aside. "I have told you what I want. Will you tell me what you want?" Her teeth shone like diamonds, making the smile both hard and fiery.
Harry stirred. "You haven't told us what you want," he said. "I don't believe for a minute that you've come here because of any desire for altruism on your part. You want to make allies of us, and you thought this would be the best way to do it."
Draco hissed, a suck of indrawn breath that Severus could have slapped him for. It betrayed far more weakness than Harry's words had.
Swanfair stared at Harry with the same smile for a moment, then dropped it and leaned forwards. "You're quite right," she said. "I want to pursue my own advantage, and I am glad that you are intelligent enough to recognize that. I am here because I think that I can most effectively pursue my advantage in your company, and help you to achieve your goals at the same time."
"You don't know what our goals are." Harry was leaning openly on the back of the couch now, his words coming out in pants, but Severus didn't see the contempt in Swanfair's face that he had expected. Perhaps she was impressed that he had dared to face her like this.
"I can guess what they are," Swanfair said, still calmly, her face still hard. "You want to halt the attacks on you and your bondmates. You want to have a safe place to live. You want the Ministry to stop telling you what to do."
"You forgot one," said Harry, and he ground his teeth together. Severus stifled the impulse to sweep him up the stairs to bed. That was where he needed to be for his short-term survival, but being on the couch was just as important to their long-term goals.
"Which one would that be?" Swanfair's voice was solicitous. Her eyes gave nothing away to contradict that emotion, though Severus was certain she didn't truly feel it. He wondered for a moment about interfering, but Swanfair had made it clear from the beginning that she would rather speak with Harry, and it would make Harry look weak to take over from him now.
Or as if Draco and I distrusted him. That impression could be even more fatal.
"To force the wizarding world to stop depending on me to save them." Harry spoke those words in a rush of clear breath that Severus could imagine him saving up so that he could propel that particular sentence out. "I've made enough sacrifices. It's time they stopped thinking that I'm going to make any more."
Draco gave an excited little bounce, which he calmed at once when Swanfair looked at him. Severus could understand the gesture, especially given the river of molten metal flowing down the bond. Harry was determined as Severus had rarely seen him determined before. If he was tiring at last of being made the Ministry's whipping boy and the constant Chosen One, then perhaps he would begin to concentrate on things more important to them.
Such as his health.
Swanfair was silent for long moments, in which it seemed that her eyes did not blink. Then she began to smile again, and this time the smile was a bit more genuine than the last one she had given. Which did not mean they could trust her, Severus cautioned himself.
"Destroying a heroic reputation," she said. "That is something I have not done for long years. I would relish the chance to break one again."
"I don't want to just break it," Harry corrected her, with more than a little sharpness in his voice. "That would mean a lot of nonsense gets screamed at me about how I'm betraying my cause—well, you heard what Huxley shouted."
"Yes." Swanfair folded her hands and used the tips of her tallest fingers to stroke her chin. "We don't want that."
"I want to establish myself, and my bondmates, as something else," Harry said. "Convince the wizarding world that we're not responsible for them, but not a danger, either. The problem is that I don't know how to do that."
Severus winced at the confession of incapacity, then reminded himself that he and Draco could only have concealed the same thing, not come up with a way to achieve what Harry wanted. He was not sure there was a way to achieve what Harry wanted.
Swanfair sat quite still again. Then she said, "Shall I tell you what I want, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded. Draco would have said something reckless; Severus would have murmured a compliment. But once again, Harry's honesty seemed to capture and hold Swanfair's attention where political and mental games wouldn't have.
"I want to gain my prestige back," Swanfair said. "Being touched with the Dark Arts is not a good thing in this new world, and my family has a history of that. So I want a new reputation. Allying myself with the Savior of the Wizarding World is a plan that has a certain logical validity."
"That doesn't make any sense," Harry said, shaking his head. "If you want me to stay the Savior, then we can't be allies."
"Yes, we can," said Swanfair, leaning forwards eagerly. "I want you to be something other than the submissive Chosen One you are right now, doing whatever the public and the Ministry request of you. I want you to be the man you showed yourself to be with the speech you made today: someone who demands a little return for the effort he's expended in defense of the wizarding world. That is the strong paragon who will cast his light on me and on others like me. You'll win the most allies with that kind of posture."
"But will that earn us safety?" Harry gave her a jaundiced look. "It sounds as though the people who hate us right now would hate us more than ever, and the attacks would step up."
"That's why you emphasize the strength." Swanfair shrugged. "There would be some attacks at first, but you're already facing those. In the end, I think we can make you—and your bondmates—part of something so powerful that they won't dare to simply fling curses. They'll have to enter the political arena if they want to bring you down." She smiled, and this time it was the smile of a cat who was waiting by a mousehole. "And when they do that, I, and the others with political experience, will be waiting for them."
Severus expected that Harry would say something about acting and how he would still have to act if he became the person Swanfair wanted him to be, but his face was thoughtful, and the bond thrummed with the thick, oily liquid of deep thoughts instead of the steel now. Then Harry said, "I think it sounds like it can work. You're talking about a political party, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Swanfair. "The only way to ensure absolute safety is to change some of the laws and have power in the Ministry."
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He looked ivory-pale, and Severus could feel the bond pulsing with pain now like heavy, panting breaths. It was a wonder that he still sounded normal when he spoke. "I'll think about it. We'll talk later. It's a good idea, but we need to consider the implications."
Swanfair looked at Draco and Severus with almost startled eyes, as if she had forgotten they were there in the excitement of talking to Harry. That reassured Severus. She was not some invincible politician, the way her reputation for surviving crises and getting revenge on her enemies sometimes made her sound. She could be tricked and thwarted if they decided that they did not want to ally with her.
"And you want power, too, don't you?" Harry opened his eyes to fix them on her. Severus hoped that Swanfair couldn't see how much effort that took him. "You want to be someone important in this new political party."
"Of course," Swanfair, sounding faintly surprised that it had taken Harry this long to mention it. "Life is nothing without power."
Harry smiled, though it wasn't a smile that Severus would have considered reassuring if he were the one angling for an alliance, and shut his eyes again. "Of course not," he said.
Swanfair ignored the sarcastic tone in his voice magnificently, rising to her feet. "We will talk again later," she said, managing to make it sound as if it were her idea this time. She looked thoughtfully at Draco and Severus from the corner of her eye, and nodded a little. "You may remove the wards that you have surrounded me with," she said. "I understand your caution, but we are allies now."
"Not officially agreed-upon allies yet," Severus said, meeting her eyes. "I would feel better if I waited to remove them until you had left the house."
Swanfair sighed, the sound of a long-suffering martyr. "When I have established myself as the trustworthy running hound to the Savior of the wizarding world, then no one will doubt me in such a way," she said, and shook her head.
Severus escorted her to the door and waited until she was beyond the wards on the front garden before he took off the protective net he had surrounded her with, as promised. Swanfair gave a carefree wave of her hand and walked away towards the main street of Hogsmeade. Severus watched her go, and studied the heads darting out of houses to watch her pass, though from this distance not even he could see hostile intent or kindliness in their eyes.
Then he felt the bond pulse with quivering flickers of anger and agony, and he turned swiftly back to the sitting room.
But by then, the damage had been done.
*
Draco waited until Swanfair and Severus had both left the room. He had that much respect for Harry, and enough sense to realize that Severus would not want him to confront Harry while Swanfair was present.
But once they were gone, he could lean forwards, catch Harry's eye—or stare at his face, since Harry was currently leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed—and demand, "What did you think you were doing?"
Harry opened his eyes and murmured, "I thought I was negotiating with Swanfair. And before that, I was telling Huxley and the rest of the wizarding world where to get off. Those are both things that I thought you wanted." His words were slurred, his eyes glazed. He badly needed to rest and another dose of the pain-easing potions that Severus had hoped they could stop giving him.
That infuriated Draco further. They hadn't made as many sacrifices as Harry had, but they had made enough, and they deserved at least the respect from their bondmate that keeping himself alive would imply. "We want them, but not at the expense of your health," he said. "You could have stayed in bed, even when you felt Huxley attacking the wards, and waited for one of us to come to you and explain the situation."
Harry forced himself up on one elbow and stared at Draco incredulously. "I've been mistreated and ignored and knocked around half my life by the wizarding world, and you think that I'll tamely lie back and let you have control of me?"
Draco rose to his feet, shaking. He hadn't realized how angry he was until now, when Harry had made it clear what context he thought of their attempts to keep him safe in.
"We don't want control of you," he whispered, but what kept his voice low was rage and not anguish. Harry couldn't be allowed to think that he could get away with things if he looked pale and appealing and let the bond vibrate with pain. "We want to keep you safe. We want to make you think of yourself once in a while, when it seems as though you'll do anything rather than that—"
"No one understands me when I say that I do think of myself, but only when I have the most severe problems," Harry said loudly, cutting Draco off. "If someone else has the most severe problems, I help them first. I—"
"And what do you call the pain that you're feeling at the moment, other than a severe problem?" Draco demanded.
Harry glared at him. "I trusted you not to use what you were feeling through the bond against me," he hissed. "I reckon I shouldn't have."
Draco could have exploded with fear and fury and frustration. That was the only reason that he said what he did next, or at least that was the way he explained it to Severus later. It was not because he believed what he said.
Or not for longer than a moment, anyway.
"And we trusted you to give a fuck about our lives by keeping yourself safe," he said coldly, "after you almost died from that gut wound and we almost died, too. Obviously, your obsession with denying your pain and presenting this heroic image to the world matters more than us. Oh, no, Harry Potter never gets injured. Harry Potter never runs into something he can't handle. Harry Potter is the hero to everybody, and wants to be. Harry Potter is—"
And then the pain coming through the bond like a tsunami shut him up—that and the way Harry pressed back into the couch, his eyes wide and his face pale and his arm curled around his belly as if he were striving, again, to hold his intestines inside.
"I don't feel that," Harry whispered. "You know I don't feel that. That's the kind of thing I want to get away from, not encourage." He turned his head away from Draco, as if Draco was one of the people who demanded impossible sacrifices from him and whom he wanted to escape.
Draco stared at him, then licked his lips. The flame of his anger had burned itself out, as if its kindling had been taken away suddenly.
And it had been, he thought as he watched Harry hunch further into himself. He wanted to touch him, but didn't dare.
Severus burst into the room then, glancing coldly back and forth between the two of them. Draco flinched and lowered his head as Severus looked at him, which seemed, combined with the bond, to tell Severus all he needed to know. He raised his eyebrows, which sent Draco's stomach plummeting down further.
"We will speak later," Severus said, in the kind of tone that always meant the worst detention for a Slytherin who had embarrassed his House, and then he reached out, murmured a Lightening Charm, and lifted Harry in his arms. He walked towards the stairs without glancing at Draco again.
Draco sat down on the couch as they left the room and tried to consider how that had all gone wrong.
I just wanted to tell him I felt, how him putting himself in danger made me feel.
But then the anger changed, he thought dismally, seeing it clearly now, as he couldn't when the anger consumed him. And I only wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt me. I know it wasn't deliberate. I know that he didn't have this goal of making Severus and me hurt in mind.
But that only makes it worse, because it makes it all the harder to reason him out of what he's doing.
Draco sighed. He was angry at himself, and a bit angry at Harry still, and full of dread as to what would happen when Severus found out the full details of their row. He hadn't meant to do that, but it was done, and this time, unlike when he had hexed Weasley, he didn't have previous dislike and a sense of righteousness to convince him that he hadn't done anything wrong—unless he wanted to count the way he'd disliked Harry at Hogwarts.
And I really, really don't want to do that. I thought I'd grown a bit since then. I don't want to go back to having to think of myself like a child.
*
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Harry had the physical pain under control. He could have stood on his own two feet and walked.
But the emotional pain was fighting him, and he wasn't sure how he was going to wrestle it back any time in the next half hour.
"You need not hide."
Harry stiffened. Somehow, he had forgotten that there was still someone with him who could read his emotions through the bond. Of course Severus would know exactly what he was trying to do, and probably disapprove, the way that Draco had, of Harry doing his best to make himself more comfortable to be with.
But I bet that he won't use my emotions against me the way Draco did.
Bitterness raced and coiled through him like oil in water, and he indulged in it for only a moment before he found Severus placing him on his bed. Harry took a deep breath and pushed himself up his pillows at once. He didn't try to fake a smile, because that wouldn't ever have fooled Severus, much less now that the bond stretched between them like a wall that his every feeling sprayed with graffiti. "Leave me alone, please," he did say, because he wanted to deal with this himself, the way he'd dealt with his pain when Ginny had broken up with him.
"No," Severus said, and sat down in the chair next to Harry's bed as if he sat there every day. Harry tried to forget that he did sit there every day as he glared at him.
"What?"
"I said, no," Severus repeated, and leaned forwards. "You have been left alone to deal with your pain too often. I do not think it wise to do so now, when you are struggling along in the aftermath of the first deep argument with your bondmates since you began to trust us." His face was pale and his eyes bright with dark fire. Harry stared at him in fascination. This was the most open he had ever seen Severus.
And God knows what it's costing him, to be this open. Harry had thought he was a private person about his feelings until he met Severus.
"I don't see what you can do," he muttered anyway, because that was true, and didn't he owe his bondmates the truth? Draco hurt me. That particular truth still consumed him, and Harry hated the fact that it did. "I have to think about this, and wallow in my self-pity for a while, and then push it aside and—"
"No, you do not." Severus reached out and lightly circled one of Harry's wrists with two fingers, as if he feared to press down and possibly cause Harry more pain. "You are not alone now. Do you understand what that means?"
"I understand that Draco can spy on my mind," Harry yelled, his own anger breaking free, "and yet somehow still think that I'm trying to save you because I want to be a bloody hero! Fuck, I thought he was smarter than that! I thought that sharing my emotions with the two of you had changed him!" He laughed humorlessly. "Obviously not. He still delights in hurting me."
"That, at least," said Severus in a rustling voice like an unfolding roll of silk that Harry resented even as it soothed him, "is not true. Draco lashed out in agony and anger, and he did not mean to achieve the result he did."
Harry wanted to turn away from that. Just once, he wanted to have the battle with his own feelings out in peace, without thinking about what other people needed or wanted, and yell meaningless obscenities for a while.
But then he remembered that Draco could feel what he was feeling, and he wondered what it would do to Draco.
"I know," Harry groaned. "It was a mistake, and I have to forgive him. And I will, eventually. But I want to brood right now. Go away, please."
"No." Severus leaned forwards, his hold on Harry's wrist tightening. "Doing that does nothing but give you space to make up lies that then convince you of your own invulnerability—or your need to suppress your own pain, I am not certain which. Draco was mistaken in the way that he tried to go about it. However, I will admit that I understand his impulse to address your stubbornness."
"What stubbornness?" Harry snapped, using his shoulders to shove himself up the pillows again. He was sinking down them, and he didn't like the sensation of Severus leaning over him. "I've done everything I can! I haven't blindly trusted Swanfair or anyone else, and I've opened the bond to you, and I've taken these stupid pain-easing potions and lain in bed for a week and told everyone about the bond so that I could keep you safe—"
"Tell me why you think the pain-easing potions are stupid," Severus said, in that weighty tone that Harry used to hate from McGonagall. It said that the speaker wasn't going to get angry, no matter what. "After all, they are not literally intelligent, and so cannot be blamed for their inability to comprehend the alphabet or the ingredients of several common potions other than themselves."
Harry stared at him suspiciously. "Did you just make a joke?" he demanded.
"I might have." Severus gave him a fleeting smile, but his face went back to being grave in a moment. Harry shifted and looked away. He hated it when people looked at him with concern. It made him want to reassure them, and sometimes reassurance got to be exhausting. "Now. Why do you resent so much making yourself feel better?"
Harry fidgeted. You're phrasing it wrong. "I don't hate making myself feel better. It's just—it's been a week. Why haven't I healed of the Gut Chewing Curse yet?" His cheeks burned. He felt stupid talking about this. He wished Severus would stop.
"Because the curse is a complicated one," Severus said, "and because your treatment has been interrupted several times, and because you have had to be unfairly on your feet and run out of bed to attend to other things." He raised a hand when Harry opened his mouth to argue. "I am not blaming you. I know you could hardly avoid those obstacles to your healing. But I am saying that you have not actually lain in bed for a week. Many other things have happened which laid additional stress on your body and mind." He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I do not think you will disagree that those things stressed you."
"No, of course not." Harry toyed with the edge of the blankets. His cheeks were still bright red. He still hated this.
Severus's hand moved again, so that this time he was holding Harry's forearm, his thumb smoothing over one of the scarlet beaks of the conjoined phoenixes. "Tell me why you hate talking about this, Harry."
"It's embarrassing," Harry said, glad to find a question that he had a concrete answer for. "I don't like—people looking at me when I'm in pain. It's embarrassing." He wondered why Severus was looking at him with narrowed eyes. He wasn't lying, and he didn't have any other words that would fit what he was feeling. "I'm sorry that I don't have as large a vocabulary as you and Draco do," he added defiantly, lifting his head.
"Who will it embarrass you before?" Severus asked him quietly. "Draco and I have both picked up more embarrassing things from your emotions."
Harry's cheeks stung again as he thought of the first night he'd spent with Ginny, before he'd dared to shut them out. "I just—I don't like people looking. That was why Draco was wrong when he said that I wanted to be a hero," he added, hoping to get Severus's attention off him and back to the argument so they could discus someone else. "I don't want people to stare at me and follow me around and ask where my scar went! I never wanted that. No matter what you thought, either."
"I know that, now." Severus caressed his arm, this time touching one of the phoenix wings. "Will you allow me to apologize for my preconceptions and all the years we wasted when we could have been working as allies during the various returns of the Dark Lord?"
Harry stared at Severus. He knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. He had thought they were just going to agree to ignore those years when they didn't like each other, and proceed into their bonded lives as if they were new people.
Severus shook his head slowly. "That you are still so surprised at my apology means that I have further to go," he murmured, his voice wry for some reason.
"I'm not surprised at that," Harry said. "I just—you don't have to apologize, you know? I understand now why you acted the way you did. We have plenty of other things to start thinking about. Such as the way Draco 'lashed out in his agony and anger,'" he added.
"But part of his agony and anger comes from the years when you hated each other," Severus said reasonably. "Not addressing that does not work. You still don't trust us not to hurt you, do you, Harry?"
Harry glared at him. More people finding fault with me, always finding fault. I can't do anything right, can I? I try to do the best I can, and it's never enough! "Of course not. I don't trust anyone not to hurt me. Even Ron and Hermione could do it accidentally. And if you think that I should make your life and Draco's life a perfect smooth experience, so sorry, but I can't do that." He let the full weight of his bitterness over not being perfect but being expected to be perfect come out in his voice. He knew Severus was getting it through the bond, but he might as well receive it from two directions at once. Why not? Why shouldn't he be as miserable as Harry?
He knew he would feel guilty about that later, but at the moment, it sounded reasonable to him.
*
I don't trust anyone not to hurt me.
That, combined with the statement about making Draco and Severus's lives perfect experiences, told Severus at last what the problem was.
Harry thought he should be perfect, and save the world and other people without mistakes. When he made them, he grew angry at the unrealistic expectations others had of him, but also angry at himself for making the mistake in the first place. He didn't like being physically weak, being hurt, being "looked at," because that would mean that others could see that he wasn't perfect. And then he would grow more angry over both what other people demanded from him and what he demanded of himself, and the cycle would begin again.
That enabled Severus to make sense of the weltering emotions flowing through the bond. Harry was angry in several ways, which darted and flashed like lightning and then slowed to a slug-slime flow. He was angry at Draco for hurting him and angry at himself for being hurt and being angry at Draco. A "perfect" bondmate would have understood the situation from the beginning and somehow prevented the fight.
Or so Harry thought, and who could blame him for thinking that way? If he had ever had a normal peer relationship, Severus had not seen it. He dealt with a public who swung back and forth between idolizing him and thinking him mad or dangerous, and his ties to his two closest friends were necessarily abnormally intense, given how many times they had faced death and danger together at such a young age.
There had never been someone to explain to Harry that he might sometimes—often—make mistakes without costing other people their lives or ruining those lives.
Severus even understood the self-loathing he had felt that first night after the bond took hold in the Hogwarts hospital wing. As he began to understand what his accidental magic had done, Harry both resented the loss of his freedom and hated himself for messing up Draco and Severus's lives.
It was not the first time in his life—though it had happened more often in his spy days—that Severus had so suddenly and completely understood someone. It was perhaps the first time in his life that such understanding had produced compassion instead of scorn.
He placed one hand on Harry's shoulder, moving slowly, so that Harry had no reason to feel frightened. Harry's nostrils flared, but he continued steadily glaring, which Severus thought was the best reaction he could expect.
"Harry," Severus said quietly. "You can trust us not to hurt you."
"Because Draco has proven that works so well," Harry drawled, shaking his head.
"I mean," Severus said, "that you can trust us not to purposefully hurt you. Draco's prime motivation was to make you realize your own danger and thus act to better protect yourself. Accidental hurt, as you pointed out, can come from anything and anyone. But we will do our very best not to inflict even that. This is only a misstep, not the ending of our path, and it is not the way we will always be." He drew a deep breath and then continued. He had thought about waiting, but because he understood the reasons for Harry's self-loathing now, he thought his mind was as clear on the matter as it ever would be. "And there is no reason that you have to be perfect. Draco said that because it was the most hurtful thing he could think of, precisely because he knows it is not true. We do not want you to be perfect. We want you to be safe. And happy."
Harry stared at him, astonished and wary and hostile, the expression on his face perfectly matching the emotions throbbing through the bond. "I—you don't understand," he said. "That's not the reason I was upset."
"I think it is," said Severus, feeling his way gingerly. Merlin knew Harry had plenty of reasons to hate flat contradictions from people older than he was. But Severus thought this was one he needed. "If the only reason you stand up from your bed early and fight your way through pain is because you expect too much of yourself, knowing even as you expect it that it is unreasonable, then you should take all the time you need to heal. We will not think you weak because of it."
"Right," Harry said. The bond pulsed with little indignant waves, and behind that came an electric current of memories. "Because you Slytherins are so impressed with weakness."
"Draco and I are many things besides Slytherin," Severus said. "You know that. And did you not understand me? I know you are too intelligent to willfully misunderstand my words, Harry. I said, not that we will overlook weakness, but that proper care for your physical health will not strike us as weakness in the first place."
Harry balled his hands into fists. "I don't know that," he said.
Severus raised an eyebrow and took a risk. Perhaps it was too early for this, but Harry needed some absolute assurance. "Then open the bonds the other way," he said. "Just for a moment. Concentrate on me, and on the flame that represents my emotions to you."
Harry gasped as though someone had hit him in the stomach, then said, "I told you that doesn't work. Not when I don't know what the colors mean."
"Neither did Draco and I have any reason to connect the visions that we see intuitively with certain emotions," Severus said. "At first it was easier to watch the expression on your face and combine understanding of that with what we received through the bond. I think you could perhaps learn the colors of the flames if you concentrated on them, rather than on blocking your awareness of what they might mean. Your reluctance to be involved in this bond with us is still operating on that level, Harry."
Harry glared at him some more. Severus looked back at him calmly some more, and left his hand on Harry's shoulder in place.
Finally, Harry grumpily shut his eyes and opened the bonds the other way.
Severus closed his eyes and was complete.
*
Harry was bathed in an almost instant flood of light and color, music and movement.
The flames burst into being on either side of his visions again. Reluctantly, Harry turned his full attention to them and tried to match the expression on Severus's face with the darker flame on the left of his vision, hovering near his eye like a headache aura, that he knew represented him.
The flame darted back and forth, lightening almost to blue in the center and then curling dark again. Severus had a look of listening, and Harry had to acknowledge that it was likely the shift in the light represented the changes in his feelings.
But I still don't know what they mean, he thought almost triumphantly.
He dug at the flame with his mind anyway, determined to prove that he had done all he could and still been baffled. And then Severus and Draco would get exasperated with him and upset that he wasn't perfect, which was uncomfortable territory and would hurt, but was at least familiar.
The flame turned over, and a pulse of knowledge traveled through Harry. The darkness represented the darker emotions, the light colors the lighter ones. Rapid changes like this one indicated a leaping through emotions so swift that Severus would probably not be able to speak them all aloud.
And that very pale blue in the center of the flame was wonder, and bliss.
Harry, reeling under the knowledge, dazed, uncertain, turned his attention to the gold-green flame that was Draco's. The sour taste that went with it changed to sweetness in his mouth, and the flame curled in on itself and stopped moving quite as much. In contrast to Severus, Harry learned as he stared at it, the stillness was Draco's sign of joy. Rapid movements for him would betray agitation or anger.
Harry was gasping, shaking with the force of the revelations, but he dug at Draco's flame as he had at Severus's, determined to get all the nasty surprises out in the open and over with. Somewhere under there had to be the suppressed hatred and anger and pain from their years of conflict with each other, the same emotions that had made Draco scream at him.
He had the distinct impression of tearing through some lacy dam, probably his own stubbornness, that had held back a powerful wave. With hardly a warning rumble, the water fell down on top of him and drowned him in the actual feelings that Draco and Severus were experiencing as they thought of him and the bonds rushed through them, instead of only knowledge of those feelings.
Wonder. Bliss. Joy. Impatience—that was Draco—for there to be something more, for the bonds to be open like this all the time. Patience—that was Severus, and Harry could feel the patience in his own heart like a boulder anchoring him to a streambed so the water wouldn't sweep him away—that said they could wait for Harry, because this was new to him.
A wanting that had teeth in it, and made the bonds ache with power and promise, and which Harry could not stand.
He slammed the bonds shut, wrenching himself away from an expansion of his mind and spirit that he quickly suspected could become addictive. He had to think about something else besides the bonds, he reminded himself, arm over his eyes. He had to think about politics, and the political party that it seemed they were going to build with Swanfair, and the best way to keep his bondmates safe.
Perhaps the need to feel everything at once would calm eventually, the way it seemed to have for Draco and Severus when it came to their experiencing of his emotions, and he would be able to think about something else even with the bonds open.
But Harry didn't dare risk it. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't—he trusted that they didn't want to hurt him now, but he didn't think he could face the rest of what they demanded from him.
He lowered his arm from his face and did his best to look at Severus with a stoic and calm expression. From the keen glint in Severus's eyes, he wasn't fooled. Of course he wasn't, Harry remembered a moment later. The bond that fed his emotions to his bondmates was still open and flowing.
But what mattered, Harry told himself in an effort to keep his mind off certain other revelations, was that Severus was a much better person than he had ever known he was, and it had taken him an immense effort to be this open. Harry owed him some thanks for that.
"I—thank you," he said, in a voice so low that Severus leaned forwards to hear him. "You didn't have to do this, you didn't have to try to reassure me, but you did. You could have gone away and been content with the emotions you got from me, but you didn't want to do that. I didn't know before now how much of a hero you were."
Severus's eyes slid away from his. Harry at once sat up and reached for him. Oh, no you don't. If I have to face this, so do you.
*
Severus had been larger than himself for a moment, part of a flowing being that could raise boundaries to separate out parts of itself—it could think his thoughts, or Harry's, or Draco's, in privacy—and also act together. He was one and joined. It was like being part of a world, surrounded by it, dependent on it, but perfectly capable of taking actions that the rest of the world didn't agree with.
For the first time, he had grasped what love meant.
Now, the being was gone, and Severus understood enough of Harry's terror to know that it wouldn't come back at any time soon. His words were the next best thing, but Severus didn't know that he could look at Harry for long without his hunger for the bonds showing. So he looked away.
Then Harry seized his chin and turned his face back.
Harry's eyes were better than the bond, fiery and pleading, uncertain and daring, and a brilliant green that the bond would never manage to shine even in his imagination. Harry repeated, "You're a hero," and his words drifted and broke like mist around the stare of his eyes. Severus caught his breath, beginning to understand that there might be connections and compensations without the bonds being fully open.
"I'm sorry I can't give you everything you want," Harry said, his voice taut with misery. "But I still need to say thank you."
"Tell me, Harry," Severus breathed. He wouldn't have said this normally, but he was high, drifting, separated by snowflakes of wonder and memory from consideration of the consequences. "Do you recoil from us because of repulsion or because of fear? You have never had a relationship like this. Is that it? Is it the only reason that you fled from us wanting you?"
Harry said nothing and held still, but all the bond burned with clear fire, and Severus understood. Yes, that was it. Harry was frightened of what would happen if he opened the bonds and kept them open, whether it would burn him up.
Severus leaned forwards, his eyes locked to Harry's. Harry didn't move, but his forehead, unmarred by the scar now, wrinkled, as if he didn't know what would happen next.
Severus's lips brushed Harry's. Harry lifted his head as if to meet a challenge, his forehead still wrinkled, his lips firm and unyielding. His shoulders were shaking with the effort to control his fear.
But he didn't back away, and the bond did not tighten with horror the way it would if he found kissing a man hateful.
"That is the only answer I wanted or needed for now," Severus murmured, pulling back. "I will bring you a pain-easing potion."
He left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. Harry stared into the distance at the wall, his face dazed, and didn't look around as he left.
He met Draco on the stairs, his eyes wide and his pupils blown, looking as dazed as Harry.
"Is he going to forgive me?" Draco demanded, his words rushing and tripping over each other. "Will he open the bonds again? Did he open them for a good reason in the first place? Do you think he'll want us someday? Did he kiss you back?"
Severus, unable at the moment to scold him for his part in the row, bent down and pressed his lips to Draco's. Draco calmed and flicked his tongue out to deposit a secondary and smaller kiss on Severus's mouth.
It was a fitting gesture, Severus thought, as if Harry were kissing Draco at the same time, as if he had brought the taste of Harry's mouth to Draco, though Harry had never parted his lips so that Severus could get a proper taste.
"The answer to all your questions," Severus whispered when he lifted his head, patience and peace and calm flowing through him, "and to many others that we haven't yet asked, is yes."
