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"Hi, Harry."
"Hi, Ginny." Harry gave her a reserved smile, and then wondered if that was the right thing to do when she looked away. But she kept speaking to him, and her voice was almost normal. Harry didn't think he sounded or looked much better. He would take what he could get.
"Do you think that you'll manage to reconcile with the Ministry at all?" Ginny was pulling plates out of the cupboard, keeping her head bowed so that her hair fell across her face. Harry turned around, seeking something he could do that would also be helpful and involve a great deal of noise. He settled for rearranging the chairs around the table. Bill was visiting tonight, with Fleur, and since Harry was here as well, that added three extra mouths.
"I don't think so." Harry kept his voice muffled. He didn't want to sound too angry or too self-righteous. He had no idea on what Ginny's feelings about the Minister were and no particular desire to find out this way. "At least, not right now. Shacklebolt still refuses to arrest Huxley, and that means that I don't know if he even cares about protecting my life, or only cares about it when it doesn't cost him too much effort."
Ginny made a disgusted noise as she started setting the plates in front of the chairs. "That makes no sense. What does he think will happen if you die? Does he imagine that he'll just escape criticism somehow, and manage to spread his hands innocently and have no one think it's his fault?"
"I think I scare him." Harry's words surprised him. He hadn't thought about it before, since most of the time Kingsley seemed upset and angry, not scared. But he nodded now, new insights into this mess crowding his brain. Draco and Severus would be proud of me, he thought wryly. They'd probably decide that I'm considering the situation in a Slytherin way. "He doesn't know how to control me or what to do with me if I won't be an Auror—even though he's the one who prevented me from being an Auror in the first place. My dying would be disastrous for him, but so would my leading a political party against him or forcing him to arrest Huxley, I think. Too many things could go wrong. Maybe he's panicked now, pressed against the wall. But softening his stance towards me would mean that he would lose the respect of other people."
Ginny was silent. Harry glanced towards her and found that she had shaken her hair out of her face and was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
"I don't know that that's all true," Harry added. He had to work to keep his voice from being defensive. Ginny was probably surprised, not doubtful. "But it's what I think, and it takes account of everything I know about Kingsley and the situation."
"I'm impressed," Ginny commented, and set the last plate down in front of Mrs. Weasley's chair. "I didn't know that you could think politically like that."
"Neither did I," Harry muttered, and gave a tug on the chair he was still holding, although everything was arranged now and the chair didn't need it.
"They've been good for you, haven't they?"
Harry wondered at first if he'd heard those words only because he was hoping so desperately for them. But when he dropped the chair and looked closely at Ginny, he found that she was staring at him, though her face burned.
Then she repeated the words. "Malfoy and Snape. They've been good for you."
Harry nodded, feeling as if he were edging out on a shaking tree branch. What Ginny said was important. Maybe they could be friends again. "Yes. They've taught me new things, but it's more than that. They've taught me to think I was smarter than I thought I was, and to take chances."
Ginny raised her eyebrows and laughed. "You needed to be taught to take chances?"
Harry grinned at her, and felt some of the pain he'd carried around since they broke up dissolve slowly. Yes, they could be friends again. "In things other than Quidditch and battling Voldemort, sure. I would never have trusted myself to take some of the risks I have in pure-blood politics, but now I've dared them, and they're not so terrible."
Ginny rubbed her fingers over the wood of the table, a private smile in the back of her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that."
"I'm glad you're glad."
Ginny glanced at him again, grinned, and then said, "I'll call in the rest. Mum must have no idea what time it is, or she'd be in here cooking already." She sailed out of the kitchen.
Harry leaned against the wall and looked at his plate and chair among the rest. He'd been feeling slightly isolated from the Weasleys ever since he and Ginny had broken up, wondering if he would ever belong here again.
Now that he knew the answer, he felt a bit silly for having ever doubted their ability to welcome him.
*
"So long as it remains Defense," Severus said, and handed the book back to Draco.
Draco glared at Severus and decided that his purposes would be best served by not exploding into a petulant rage. Severus had picked up the book he'd bought in Diagon Alley the day that Pepperfield attacked him and begun to study it when Draco went to get tea. Severus had a reservation in his eyes as he handed it back. He obviously disapproved of the subject matter, or perhaps simply of any book that referred to Dark Arts.
"I'm not going to be stupid enough to use Dark spells now," Draco said, when he thought he could control his temper. "Yes, I'll only study Defense and Potions. Those are the subjects I want to combine anyway, not Dark Arts and Potions. That's been done before." He shivered as memories returned to him. Most of the time, he could push them away, when he was wrapped safe in Severus's warm embrace or the quivering flow of Harry's emotions through the bond. "Including by the Dark Lord. I saw that, remember."
Finally, Severus's face softened, and he nodded. "Yes. I think I may trust your impulse to creativity and originality where I may not trust your common sense." And he rose from the couch and strode back to the potions lab.
Draco held his breath until the urge to shout after Severus had passed. He knew that Severus was simply trying to do his best to keep Draco safe, and that he was accustomed to being around teenagers who couldn't make sane decisions. Most of them had been in the House of Gryffindor, however, and none of them had been having sex with him.
I wish he respected me more. I wish he thought that of course I'm not going to do things that endanger me or the others, just because he always believed the best of me.
Then Draco sighed and sat down on the couch, flipping the pages in his book idly. For the moment, he had lost all impulse to read.
I haven't earned that respect or simple belief by my behavior yet, though. I have to show him that I can be even more mature than I think I am. I have to respond to his challenges with good humor, and keep my temper, and not fight with Harry all the time, and not always rely on Severus to comfort me.
What would show him that I intend to do that?
After several minutes of scouring his thoughts and coming up with nothing, Draco decided to think of the one thing he would most loathe doing, even if Severus or Harry asked him to do it. Then it was simple.
I need to apologize to the people my actions hurt during the war. Lovegood and Ollivander to start with. And maybe even Granger, because she was in the Manor when she got tortured.
Immediate protests rose up in his mind. Why would he want to do that? He'd made up for his mistakes and crimes by saving Harry's life when the Snatchers brought him, Granger, and Weasley to the Manor. Did that mean that he should apologize to all the people the Dark Lord had ordered him to torture, as well?
The last question he considered for a time before he decided, No. He made me do that. And most of those people are dead or in Azkaban now anyway.
And I don't think Granger would even welcome an apology. Besides, if I start apologizing to people that got hurt because I stood by and let it happen, then I'd never stop.
But no one made me go out of my way to be cruel to Lovegood and Ollivander. I did it because I thought that the other Death Eaters would respect me more if I did. I thought I might gain a moment's respite from the pain and fear that the Dark Lord inflicted on me if I could show that I knew how to inflict pain and fear on my own.
Not my brightest idea. He never noticed.
Draco was shaking now, chills sweeping over his body, as he remembered how he had stood next to the cell and whispered to Lovegood that they were going to rip her body apart and use it for potions ingredients, because she was too crazy to be good for anything else. He had justified it to himself, then and later, because she never paid attention to him. Instead, she talked to her fellow prisoners, whoever they were at the moment, or lay looking at the ceiling and the lines of the walls. That infuriated him and made his next comments worse, but in its own way, it was a justification, because she wasn't affected by those comments, either.
Now, of course, Draco knew very well that simply because someone didn't wear their pain openly didn't mean they weren't affected.
I knew that before. I just didn't want to acknowledge it.
Draco wrapped his arms around his body and sat still for a moment. He'd whispered those things to Lovegood, and withheld food from both her and Ollivander. Once, he'd cast a spell on Ollivander that broke his hand. He was taken away for torture soon after and, when he was brought back to the cell, his torturer had healed his broken hand along with his other injuries. As with everything else during the war, the acts that Draco had counted on to impress other people were swallowed up by those others and dispensed with.
Draco took a deep breath and then continued to sit still. He had thought he was ready to stand up, move forwards, and deal with this, to face his mistakes, but he wasn't. Now that he thought about it, he was appalled to realize that he hadn't realized it was wrong.
Or I didn't let myself think that, or I told myself that it wasn't wrong because so many other bad things had happened to me and I was just getting a bit of revenge.
He leaned back on the couch and reached out for his cup of cold tea, taking a sip so that he could orient himself.
I was trying to get revenge on the wrong people. Of course, if I had confronted the Dark Lord or Fenrir Greyback or anyone else who was actually hurting me, then they would have destroyed me, but that doesn't make what I did right. Just understandable.
For a moment, he wondered if he should owl or firecall Ollivander or Lovegood. Then he burst into a fit of shivering and concluded, weakly, that he would have to owl them, because he would freeze if he tried to confront them face-to-face. It was an open question whether either of them would condescend to read his letters, but at least it would save him some embarrassment and looking as though he had merely firecalled to play a prank on them.
I didn't know it would be this hard.
But what they had endured from him was harder still, so Draco stood up and went in search of parchment and ink.
*
Severus had endured torture, abuse, years of distrust and hatred, the loss of the woman he loved, the death of his best friend and mentor at his own hand, and Longbottom melting his cauldrons. Nothing was left to scar or surprise or shock him.
Which meant the way his head kept turning towards Draco when the boy cursed under his breath and threw yet another scribbled-over sheet into the rubbish made no sense.
Draco had started writing yesterday and hadn't stopped yet. Severus could feel him wrestling with the words he needed to speak, a silent tension that swayed back and forth like a kitten struggling with a sea serpent. It was not the same as the tension in the bond between Severus and Harry that indicated Harry was also concerned about Draco, but it need not be.
A sad thing it would be, Severus thought, as he sat back and watched Draco toss another half-completed parchment away, if I were to start comparing my other experiences of the world to the bond and declaring them impoverished.
Harry had begun to send images of concern that swooped back and forth like seagulls diving after fish when Draco missed half their shared breakfast to scribble on his letters. Then he'd gone to the doorway of the kitchen and looked out at Draco sprawled on the couch with a sharp roseate emotion that Severus knew was wistful concern. Several times he'd walked past Draco to pick up a book or change his seat and given him a direct look that Severus knew was an invitation to talk.
Draco had blocked it out completely. For all Severus knew, he was not even feeling Harry's emotions through the bond at the moment. He was solely and entirely concentrated on finishing this piece of writing.
Then he crumpled another piece of parchment, and his exclamation of defeat and frustration would have been audible in a much larger space. Severus had to check himself from getting up from the chair. He thought this a problem Draco had to face alone, or he would have come and asked for help.
Harry didn't seem to believe the same thing. He had less experience of Draco's pride than Severus, of course. He stood up, slammed the book shut—even that didn't cause Draco to emerge from his trance—and stalked over to the couch, slapping his hands down on the arm. Draco looked up at that, but only to hiss over his paper like a cornered ferret and turn straight back to it.
"You're hurting," Harry said. "You told me not to try and hide my pain, but you're doing it now. Why? Tell me what it is. I want to help."
Severus winced and opened his mouth to interfere. That directness might have been the best way for Harry to approach a Gryffindor friend who was hiding a secret, but Draco had kept it concealed for reasons that must seem excellent to him. Trying to force him to confess was not at all the right thing to do.
But Draco spoke before Severus could, surging to his knees so fast that he almost slammed his head into Harry's chin. Harry whipped his body out of the way, but he couldn't escape Draco's words, which hurried over each other like the waters of a flooded river. "This isn't the same. You were hurting yourself. I'm not doing that. I'm simply writing some letters to make up for mistakes, and no, I don't want to tell you why, and yes, you should leave me alone while I do this." He finished with a look on his face that would have made Severus step away even if Draco was still a child, and then turned back to the new piece of parchment in front of him, sucking fiercely at the end of his quill.
Harry said flatly, "You are hurting yourself. If writing those letters is so hard, why not just leave them until later?"
Draco stared at him. "Because I might not be able to do them later," he said, in a tone that suggested insults were not far behind.
"Who are they to?" Harry started craning his neck around so that he could see the words Draco was putting on paper.
Severus stood up and stepped forwards, in time to catch Harry as he reeled backwards. Draco had deliberately hit him in this time, in the mouth. Harry started to bounce back to his feet and splutter, but Severus pulled him out of the room.
Glancing over his shoulder, he knew that he had made the right decision, no matter how much both Harry and he might want Draco to explain. Draco had already forgotten the fight and gone back to scribbling. His brows had contracted in relief this time, his mouth slightly parted, as though he had found the words he wanted at last.
"That idiot—"
Severus stood Harry up in the second sitting room on the ground floor, and angled his body so that Harry could not go charging back to Draco. He poured scorn into his voice, because he knew that was the only way Harry would listen to him right now. "He is not suffering physical pain the way you were, and he will heal without our interference. That is the difference between his situation and yours."
Harry stared at him, mouth open in a snarl. His chest heaved and the bond sparked with red lightning. "I need to know what he's doing! How can I protect him if I don't know what's happening to him?"
"It may take some time for you to grasp this," Severus drawled, "with your brain oriented as it is, but perhaps your role in this matter is not that of protector."
Harry glared at him and tried to step around him. Severus cast a Tripping Jinx so that he sprawled on the floor. Of course, this time he got up with the red lightning in the bond directed towards Severus, but that was all right. Severus could deal with it, unlike Draco at the moment.
"What else can I do?" Harry asked, his voice descending as if he wanted to make it audible to mice living in the floor. "He's hurting, I know that, and he won't tell me a thing about it! I have to—"
"No, you do not," Severus said. "He is not in danger of dying, and he has requested to deal with this himself. He also does not have your history of refusing help for dangerous problems multiple times in a row." He disliked the way Harry's eyes widened and the bond screwed itself into a tight, painful tube, but he had to make sure Harry saw the difference between his situation and Draco's. He paused, then pitched his voice more gently. "I know you are intelligent enough to understand what separates you, Harry. Use that brain of yours now."
"What, the one oriented towards mindless protection?" Harry folded his arms.
"Pretending that you do not understand the reasons I may have used an insult is unworthy of you," Severus said calmly. "But if you must be certain, then there is a way. Open the bonds fully and feel what Draco is feeling. That is a choice available to you and not to me," he made sure to add. Appealing to Harry's sense of fairness might be one way to make him pay attention.
Harry froze. Then he tried to shrug and make the movement natural, but his shoulders were too stiff. Indeed, he was clenching his jaw as if he held ice in his mouth and could not move it off the most sensitive part of his tongue. "I don't have to do that. I know he's hurting. I can just watch him and know that."
"Very well," Severus said. "And can you not also watch him and tell whether that pain is of the kind he desires help with?"
"That's different." Harry whirled around from Severus to pace over to the far side of the sitting room. His spine looked like one straight ridged cord down the center of his back, and at the moment, the bond felt much the same way. "Emotions are obvious. What to do about those emotions isn't. You know better than I do because you've been with him for a longer time."
"Again, you underestimate your intelligence," Severus said, "and also Draco's willingness to explain to you under other circumstances, when the pain is past. You can learn to know him as well as I do. It is resistance to the logical means of doing so that makes you turn away from him now."
"I don't want to open the bonds fully," Harry said in a small voice. Now the bond was little more than a pinprick in Severus's mind, though one that trembled with softly oozing blood. "I'm not ready for that."
"Then rely on my knowledge of Draco," Severus said. He felt a touch of pity for Harry's fear, but they had already spent more than enough time talking about that, and it seemed the opinions on neither side had changed. This conversation was about Draco. "He will tell us when he is ready, and I do not think that will be much longer. He is capable of great bursts of small speed, like a cheetah, but not much endurance. Either he will soon finish his letters or he will give up the project, and then I think he will feel mostly free to tell us."
Harry turned around and blinked at him. "That must be why his sixth year at Hogwarts was such a torment to him," he said softly.
Severus raised an eyebrow. Understanding Harry's emotions, like the sunrise-colored revelation shimmering into his mind now, was not always a means of understanding the thoughts that had prompted them. "I do not see what connection that has to my words."
"He had to work on a single project all year," Harry said. "He had to try for months, and none of his quick solutions worked. No wonder he was frantic, if he doesn't have the mental endurance to bear up under strain for a long time."
That was not a connection it would have occurred to Severus to make, but it was one he wished to encourage—and one that he was more than slightly surprised had come from someone whose best friend Draco had nearly killed during that time. "Yes," he said. "He had no choice then, of course, as he believed the Dark Lord would kill his family otherwise. But now he is free of that burden. Thanks to you." He made sure to give Harry a brief appreciative glance.
Harry smiled back at him, but it was distracted. "No wonder," he said softly. "No wonder. I didn't understand. Oh." He wandered across the room and sat down on one of the couches Severus had placed against the far wall, hands linked behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.
Severus did not intend to disturb him. He Summoned his book from the other room and settled down on the chair opposite the couch. He would have asked Harry if he required reading matter as well, but Harry seemed content to think, while the bond stretched and contracted like a beating heart.
The arguments between us will always happen, but they are settled more quickly and easily now. And Harry's stubbornness is no longer so much of a barrier.
Severus dropped his eyes to his book in some contentment.
*
Draco sat back and folded his arms. He felt as though he had eaten an enormous dinner and was trying to digest it all. The food was contentment, and relief that things were finished, and the easing of a guilt that he hadn't even realized he was carrying.
The letters to Lovegood and Ollivander were finally finished.
Draco didn't think they were the most gorgeous or eloquent letters ever written, but they didn't need to be. What they needed to do was apologize and explain that there was nothing that could ever excuse his behavior.
That was what had tripped him up for so long. He had wanted to write something that would stun Lovegood and Ollivander, not just convey his guilt. He had wanted to reach their hearts and show them that he had also suffered during the war, and taken the suffering out on them. He had wanted to ask for their forgiveness without asking for it, to so impress them that they would have to understand.
He wanted to make excuses.
Once he gave up trying to do that and concentrated on simply writing apologies, then things went much better.
Draco let out a soft, contented breath, and squirmed a bit against the back of the couch. The letters were gone, both sent flying with the tough owl that Severus had purchased. The owl was also smart enough to find its way to two recipients; at least, it hadn't shown any hesitation when Draco handed the letters over and it swished out the window.
And now he could tell Severus and Harry what he had done.
They were the ones he wanted to forgive him. Severus had done worse things, but he had also tried to help Draco and offer him advice as he struggled through his difficult years, and Draco had disregarded most of that advice, unable to see outside his own situation. Harry was Lovegood's friend, and he had freed both her and Ollivander from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Draco thought that they probably hadn't told him everything, but he still couldn't be fond of Draco for keeping them prisoner.
Even though I think he's also fond of me at the same time, Draco thought, for the first time in hours paying attention to the bond that quivered with green globes of emotion like ripe grapes. I hope that we have years to understand each other, but I don't know that we do. At any rate, this should make things easier.
He rose to his feet, stretching some of the stiffness away, and then cautiously pushed open the door of the other sitting room. Harry at once stood up, his eyes wide and focused on Draco. He gave Draco a tentative smile, which Draco returned. Then he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Do you wish to tell us what you were doing?" Severus kept his voice neutral, but Draco had learned to search out the spark of hope in his dark eyes.
"I was writing letters to people I had hurt," Draco said. "When they were the Dark Lord's prisoners in Malfoy Manor, I mean." Harry sat still, but the bond flexed and grew jagged yellow sides suddenly. Draco turned to more fully look at Severus. He didn't want to cope with Harry's disappointment until Harry learned exactly what he had done to mitigate that disappointment. "I taunted them and broke Ollivander's hand with a curse. I know they hardly have any reason to think fondly of me, but I sent them apologies. I hope—I hope they accept them." He lifted his head. Severus was staring at him in something like awe, and Draco absorbed that to counter the way the bond was still yellow and motionless. "But even if they don't, at least I know that I did the right thing."
"Indeed you did."
Severus didn't need to say more than that. The shining in his eyes, the careful way he held his hands and head, said it all for him. Draco smiled at him and then turned to face Harry, not sure what he would encounter there.
Harry breathed out deeply and stepped forwards. Draco found himself tensing. He and Harry had so rarely been this close without exploding into a fight.
But this time, after studying his face for a moment, Harry smiled and nodded. "Yes, you did," he said, echoing Severus, and clasped Draco's shoulder before he stepped away again.
It was a faint, fleeting touch. Draco had seen him hold onto Weasley for longer, and he had seen Harry hug Granger. He was tempted to complain that he deserved at least as much as they did.
But then he saw the sidelong glance Harry was sneaking him, the shy smile, and the irregular, silvery bursts of pride flowing through the bond, and he began to believe that those things might very well lie in their future.
*
"Welcome, Swanfair." Harry made sure his voice sounded sufficiently pompous. Though he had handled Swanfair well so far, Severus had cautioned him, at some point she would expect a return of coldness and distance, or she would cease to respect them. "What do you have to lay before us today?"
Swanfair hesitated a moment before sitting down. She then gave him a faint smile, as if to say she should have expected this. Harry didn't smile too warmly back.
It had been a week since the gathering on the Hogsmeade field, and as far as Harry could tell, things had settled into a stalemate. Negative articles accusing him of refusing the Minister's reasonable offer of reconciliation poured off the press as often as positive ones praising him for sticking to his principles. A few people had written to tell Harry that they supported him, and many more had told him that they wanted to see something more solid before they joined a new political party, including goals achieved. Harry had had one fraught conversation with Mrs. Zabini which left him still uncertain what to think about her.
Swanfair was a different problem.
Oh, she had been polite in her letters; she was polite now that she was inside their wards. But there was a lurking current of something else beneath her polite manner that Harry wished he knew how to interpret. She was watching him for—something. He had no idea if that was simple weakness or not. If it was, however, he thought she would have attacked before now. Severus and Draco had both told him that he'd made mistakes in front of her, appeared too compassionate or too concerned about something that she would see as minor, like whether reluctant Muggleborns could be persuaded to join them.
Harry had argued that he didn't care, because he couldn't stop being concerned about those things, and he wasn't a good enough liar or clever enough to hide the concern from Swanfair no matter what happened. She had spies, both Draco and Severus had told him. Word of his emotions would get back to her no matter what. Why should he try to prevent the impossible?
Severus had rolled his eyes at him. Draco had snorted and folded his arms. Harry was much less cut by those reactions that he would have been a few weeks ago, and had let them go.
At the moment, he was facing Swanfair with Draco and Severus in the next room. He wondered if he should have listened to them when they weren't there, as usual.
But Swanfair had asked for a private meeting, and Harry knew it would have made him look weak if he said no. So he fixed a smile on his face and said, "Have you come to bring me news of the Minister?"
"Better news than that." Swanfair did a careful sweep of the room with her eyes, as if she were checking on the status of the wards against eavesdropping and spies. Harry waited patiently for her to finish. Then she nodded to herself and fixed her gaze on him again. "Some of the more reluctant pure-bloods are coming around at last. They did not see why it should be their fight, but Shacklebolt is working to change the laws so that they invoke harsher punishments for Dark Arts. The Ministry will change the classification of many spells so that they are Dark Arts when they were not before. And anyone who used such spells in the past, before the intervention of the new laws, can be arrested for the crime."
"That's ridiculous," Harry said, startled into speaking before he meant to. "That's violating basic principles of law, not just changing a few pieces of legislation."
Swanfair smiled. "We should perhaps be grateful to him. He has driven several families to our arms who would not otherwise have come." She drew a piece of parchment from her pocket. "I have a list of their names here. Shall I read them to you?"
"Yes," Harry said. He cast a glance around, hoping it was subtle enough. It seemed as though the walls of the library were closing in on him, and flickering colors like candle flames danced along them.
"Greengrass," Swanfair read solemnly. "Nott. Thompson. Willowbranch. Greathide."
The flickering colors crept closer. Harry found himself staring fixedly at Swanfair's right hand, and the ring she wore there, which contained a large, shining stone across which the shades moved. Red, green, blue, purple. Draco would have known what kind of stone that was, Harry thought hazily. He didn't.
"Greenfeather. Nothidden. Thomsbreath. Willowwater. Greatturn."
Those names were like the names she had read before, Harry thought. Or had he lost his place in the list and thought she was repeating some of the names when she really wasn't? He didn't know as much about pure-blood families as Draco did, and maybe Swanfair was making some up who weren't really loyal to the cause. He put a hand to his forehead and frowned. His thoughts hissed and danced to the side. The air was full of quivering flame.
"Greenwater. Notbranch. Thomshide. Willowfeather. Greatgrass."
The ring on Swanfair's hand flashed as she turned the parchment over. The swarm and swimming of blue ripples across its surface stabbed into Harry's brain. His mind felt liquid. The colors were swimming over it, and he didn't want to show that to Swanfair, because then she would think he was weak, and stop reading, and inquire in a sarcastic little voice if she should begin it over again. Severus and Draco had told him to beware when she used sarcasm.
"Greenhide. Notgreat. Thomsturn. Willowfeather. Greatbreath."
Severus and Draco…Harry felt as if he were sailing away from them across a great ocean. The waves that lapped in between them were memory, and regret. Harry's hand moved absently towards the phoenix marks visible on his arms. He didn't have to bear them, did he? He didn't have to carry them? He could give his primary loyalty to someone else if he pleased.
But that thought sank to the bottom of his stirring, rippling mind like a stone thrown into a pond, and it brought a shaft of white sunlight with it. Harry felt his eyes open almost painfully wide, his thoughts shaking off the colored cloth that Swanfair had been trying to cast over them.
She was trying to get me to betray Draco and Severus, and transfer my loyalty to her. Harry bared his teeth, watching Swanfair cock her hand so that the stone flashed at him. Severus warned me that she would try to use some variations of the Imperius Curse, but that was more powerful than I expected. I almost fell for that one.
"Greenbreath. Not—"
Harry reached out and clamped his fingers on Swanfair's wrist. She looked up at him, a quick darting motion of her head that made her resemble the bird that was part of her last name. She paused when she saw that Harry was looking directly at her. After a moment, a smile quivered up her mouth.
"You figured it out," she said. "You actually threw off a spell that I've managed to wrap around many minds far stronger and wiser than yours, at least in terms of experience and how long they've existed. Amazing." She was looking intently into Harry's eyes, as if she thought she would see the secret of how he'd done it there.
Harry growled. He could hear shuffling and banging in the next room as Severus and Draco reacted to his anger, surging to their feet and coming towards him. He threw a fierce mental bolt of welcome towards them even as he gripped Swanfair's wrist more and more tightly. "Why did you do that?"
The door of the library opened, and Draco and Severus burst in. Severus held his wand as if he meant to use it in battle; Draco was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with eagerness to do something. Harry gave them a hard smile and turned back to face Swanfair, modifying his emotions as they flowed through the bond to relief and calm and pleasure. He wanted them at his side, but he could handle Swanfair, whatever answer she made.
She sat still and watched him, not even making an effort to rise to her feet to defend herself. Her smile was small and pleased. "I wanted to see how strong you were," she answered. "I didn't know what to think of you, even after the way that you handled Shacklebolt. You were angry, but not as angry as I had expected. That made me think that you secretly longed for a reconciliation with him." She shrugged a little. "Someone who displayed such a desire might well attempt the reconciliation."
"I'm not going to," Harry said coolly. "I have some hostility towards people who try to control me."
Swanfair picked up on the implication at once, but the smile she gave him was only a touch wider and more mischievous, still not frightened in the way that Harry thought it should be. "As I said, I couldn't be sure of that. It might only be that you felt forced to act against a friend because of the action he had taken against your bondmates. If I tried to control you without threatening your bondmates, I wanted to make sure that you would fight it." She shrugged a little. "Harry Potter's selflessness is famous, but a politician needs some care for his own goals, as well, and needs not to yield himself to every temptation that comes along. I am confident, now, that you will not, and that is enough to satisfy me. I will not try to control you again."
Draco tensed as if he would charge. Harry reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, never turning away from Swanfair. "But if you had succeeded?"
"Well, then I would have lived with my disappointment and used you as a figurehead," Swanfair said. She did not say obviously, but Harry could hear it lurking behind her words.
Severus made a short, swift motion with his wand. Harry held back his sigh. He would have to ask Severus later if he had cursed her, but he wasn't going to embarrass his bondmate by doing it in front of Swanfair.
Oddly enough, Harry thought he understood the way Swanfair had acted. Draco and Hermione had warned him from the beginning that she was as dangerous as a chained dog, and Harry had never trusted her. It was nearly a relief that she had made her move at last and that his strength had beaten her back.
Looking at Swanfair's wide eyes and guileless smile, Harry could only hope that she would not try again. But he thought the more likely answer was that she would not try again soon, or with the same strategy.
As if reading his thoughts, Swanfair spread her hands and gave him a small bow of her head. "Give me power, and I will serve you faithfully. I tried to grasp power in what I thought was the best way. I see now that it must not have been."
"And how did you determine that?" Draco demanded. Harry wondered if he really expected to get a moral response out of her.
Swanfair gave him a raised eyebrow above a puzzled smile. "Because it failed."
Harry had to clench his jaw because he didn't know if he was about to curse her or laugh. Yes, in her own way, she was their ally. He would be able to trust her as long as she thought that he was giving her power, and the moment she didn't think that, she would betray him without any qualms of conscience.
Really, he thought, observing the expressions on Draco and Severus's faces with covert amusement, they should have more sympathy for her. She's only sorry for what she did if she gets caught—which is a lot like Slytherins act.
"For the moment," he said, "we'll remain allies." He ignored the way that Draco suddenly shifted beneath his hand and Severus stepped forwards. "Because I think that you owe me something for being stupid enough to waste my time with a trick that failed."
Swanfair sat up straighter and examined him with more careful attention. "Do go on," she said. "This is interesting."
Harry barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I want you to find a way to spy on Kingsley," he said. "Right now, we only know what he's planning after he does it, and I'm tired of continually taking the reactive position. We need to have some insight into what he's planning before he does it. I don't care how you do it, as long as it doesn't kill anyone, physically injure them, or forever bend their minds to your control."
Swanfair gave him a small smile. "With people who are corruptible—which is the vast majority—I have found that it is best to use money rather than spells. It is less easily detected, and the people involved have more motivation to participate in keeping their secrets." She stood. "What else do you demand from me?"
"How much of the news that you supposedly came to bring me is true?" Harry again gently had to push Draco back. He understood the impulse to protect him, he was grateful for it, but just as he'd had to learn that he couldn't protect Draco all the time, they had to learn the same thing about him.
"The Minister is looking into changing the legislation concerning Dark Arts," Swanfair said calmly. "I don't think that he'll change the laws to the point of making retroactive uses of those spells a crime. But it was rather a brilliant lie, don't you think? And the rumor may do as well as my money or spells in recruiting allies."
Harry took a deep breath. He wondered vaguely if the person he had been nine months ago, when the bond began, would recognize the person he had become. He was condoning lying and perhaps even the Imperius Curse, or spells like it.
For the moment, yes. I have to.
He didn't have any indication at the moment that Kingsley would stop pursuing the goals that endangered Harry and his bondmates; he still hadn't arrested Huxley despite all the popular pressure to do so. Harry couldn't make peace without some guarantee the peace would be kept. He couldn't risk exposing the people who mattered most to him, who depended the most on him, to an unyielding vendetta because he wanted to be morally pure.
When Kingsley offers me peace and means it, then I'll consider engaging with him in a different way.
Harry forced his own uneasiness away. He still had Hermione and the Weasleys, who stood outside the politics he found himself in the middle of lately, to advise him if he fell too far. Depending on other people had never come easily to him, but it was what he would have to do.
"Go ahead and spread the rumor," he said. "For all we know, it's something that Kingsley may consider doing if he has a morbid fear of pure-bloods and Death Eaters, the way he seems to."
Swanfair bowed her head, murmured a compliment about him being wiser than she had thought which Harry didn't bother listening to, and then turned around and walked sedately in the direction of the door. Severus cast the spells that unwrapped the protection spells from around her and let her through the wards from a distance this time. Harry could understand his desire to stay here.
When the wards reported Swanfair well away from the house and on her way to her Apparition point, Draco turned to face Harry. "We could feel you becoming calmer than normal," he said. "We just thought that meant you were handling the situation well. But she was enchanting you, wasn't she?"
Harry nodded. "With a repeated list of mostly nonsense names and a ring on her hand that had a jewel with different colors. I don't know what kind it was."
"An opal." Severus's voice had deepened with what sounded like disgust or concern. "Enchantments that affect the mind can be worked through them more easily than with other stones, as they change constantly, echoing the mind's changing thoughts." He stepped closer to Harry, his wand still out. "I do not like that Swanfair tried to enthrall you this early in our association."
"She waited until almost six weeks after I first met her," Harry said dryly. "I think that's fairly good, for her. Did you curse her?"
"I tried," Severus said, "but the spell reflected from the protection wards I had wrapped her in when she entered the house to keep her from trying to harm us. In retrospect, I am glad." He looked at Harry steadily. "You realize that you could have been seriously hurt and were justified in dealing with her more harshly?"
"Yes, I realize that," Harry said. He made his voice calm, though he knew the bond would betray some agitation. "But I couldn't deal with her any more harshly if I wanted her to stay our ally. And I was in danger, but I protected myself. You don't need to rush to my rescue all the time. You don't always need to change me. I'm doing a pretty good job of changing myself, lately." He saw Draco open his mouth to interrupt, but he rushed on, because he thought he wouldn't have the courage or the chance to speak these words again if he waited. "I'm accepting that you're the most important people in my life, and I'm accepting that I can trust you and I don't need to worry about you consuming me or trying to control me. I'm not ready to open the bonds in both directions, but that's a pretty important realization, isn't it?"
A moment later, he wondered if he had done something wrong after all, because flames of soft gold and red, like stained glass windows set on fire, were ringing the phoenix marks on his arms.
*
Severus was the one who felt the shift deep in his mind, the tumbling, clicking, and falling like an opened lock. Draco, his eyes wide in wonder as he watched Harry, and Harry, staring at his arms, were not trained enough in knowledge of their own thoughts or in Occlumency or Legilimency to notice.
But Severus felt the flame spread through him, and then it echoed up his bond into Harry, and down through Harry into Draco. Harry was the apex of the triangle, the master of the bonds, Severus thought, in a detached manner that somewhat separated him from what was happening so that he could think about it coherently. It made sense that the change would need to pass through him before it was complete.
The warmth circled back again. This time, Severus thought it was best compared to a large animal stretching as it woke from a nap.
"What—what was that?" Draco whispered, his eyes still wide. His hand hovered above his own phoenix as if he were not sure whether to stroke it or strike it.
"The falling of a barrier," Severus said. "There are certain changes I have been reading about which happen in accidental magic bonds but had not happened in our case. I wondered why." He looked at Harry and saw him swallow nervously, but he didn't look away, which Severus took as a sign that he was willing to listen. "I believe there was still a barrier in place. Harry feared us at a deep level, or feared what we felt for him. Now, he does not, and the bond will move forwards in the direction of optimization."
"And what changes are we talking about now?" Harry asked. Fear throbbed up through the bond, dulled by the warmth. Severus wondered if that was a dulling of his own perceptions or a dulling of the fear itself, because Harry after all could still feel the change in the bond and knew it for no evil thing.
"We will begin to be able to sense each other's specific thoughts, if we wish," Severus said. "If one of us is in danger, then we will know the direction of the danger, and not have to rely on the phoenix marks to Apparate to each other's sides. I would not be surprised if we begin to share dreams, as well." He turned and looked at Draco. This was the hardest part of what he had to say, and he did not know if Draco would welcome it. "And the bond will melt from a triangle into a circle, reaching out to create a link between Draco and myself—though you will still remain the most powerful partner in that circle, Harry."
Draco closed his eyes. Severus swallowed and found himself instinctively trying to reach out to him through the bond the way he would have with Harry, to sense his feelings. But their bond was not in existence yet, so he must remain still.
"That's the only thing that was missing," Draco said at last, opening his eyes and giving Severus a shy smile. "I want that to happen. I hope it will."
"Yes," Harry said. "You deserve to have it happen."
Severus looked at Harry thoughtfully. Draco might not notice, caught up as he was in the thought of the changes to come, but Severus could sense the jealousy flowering from Harry like a thorny lily. Did he fear that Draco and Severus would become too close with a bond between them, given that they were also lovers? Did he fear the lessening of their interest in him?
Severus did not know; as with many others of Harry's emotions, the feeling was clear, the origin was not. And because Harry turned away in the next moment and Draco began to talk and speculate happily, Severus felt compelled to pay attention to Draco and leave Harry to the privacy he preferred.
Inwardly, in a carefully hidden part of his mind, he was amused.
If you think that we will lose interest in you because of this, Harry, you have obviously not thought long enough on the implications of consciously shared thoughts and blended dreams.
