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I have a spy in the Minister's office.

Harry smiled slightly as he folded up the letter. Once, the only circumstances under which he could have imagined receiving this would be someone sending him the letter anonymously to taunt him, and Harry would have gone into a panic, wondering how he could figure out who the spy was. Now the letter bore Swanfair's crest and was openly addressed to him, and he greeted the news with relief.

Is that a good thing?

It's a good thing I'm not panicking, Harry retorted to the Hermione-voice in his head that always tried to spoil his good mood lately, and put the letter in a locked and warded drawer of the small table near his bed. Maybe this is the wrong thing to do. But Kingsley seems to have no conception at all of where to stop. If I can only find a promise he would keep…

Harry let the thought trail off, because it was impossible to finish. Of course, then the thoughts that Swanfair's letter had helped him avoid came crashing back.

I'm jealous.

Harry stared out the open door of his bedroom at the closed and warded door of Severus and Draco's. He knew exactly what they were doing in there, not because he could hear it or feel it through the bonds, but because he knew.

He wasn't jealous of them for having sex. If he'd only wanted that, he could have gone out and found someone who would have been more than happy to provide it for him. He was jealous of the—the link between them, which was there all the time: when they ate dinner and automatically passed each other their favorite foods without asking; when Draco was saying something passionate and foolish and Severus stopped him with a glance, which Draco would follow with a thankful smile; when their hands brushed in casual interactions.

Harry sighed. Yes, all right. I'm pathetically jealous, and I wonder if the bonds will link them more closely together than they're linked to me, and I would feel lonely with the two people I counted on spending the rest of my life with.

But there's nothing I can do about it, just like I can't force Kingsley to keep his promises not to hurt us. And if I could do something about it, it would be wrong. I don't want to hurt them or break them apart or forbid them from having a connection I'm not a part of. I just want to be close to them, too.

But coming between two lovers was impossible for him to do deliberately. Harry knew how angry he would have been if someone like Romilda Vane had tried to intrude on him and Ginny while they were dating. He would have to be an adult about this, and ignore his feelings as much as he could. So far, except for a few surprised and speculative glances when his jealousy really surged, Draco and Severus seemed inclined to do the same thing.

The wards twitched in a way that meant someone who didn't like them had Apparated into the street nearby. Harry rose to his feet, his eyes narrowed. The wards that Severus had designed to feel intentions were useful things, and once he linked Harry and Draco into them, they were as adept at fending off or preparing for intruders as he was.

At least this is something else to think about, he decided, and clattered down the stairs towards the front door. His wand was firmly in his hand as he peered through a small window near the door that Severus had masked so no one outside could see it. He wondered idly if it was Kingsley who had come back again, or Huxley.

He was startled beyond words to see Ledbetter, one of his Auror instructors, standing there, his arms folded as he stared up at the house and a disapproving scowl on his face. Harry watched in silence for five minutes, but Ledbetter didn't say anything or leave or attempt to come closer. Then he heaved a sigh that seemed to come from his toes and reached out to put a hand on the gate in the wall that encircled the garden.

Harry hastily opened the door. If Ledbetter came into the garden, he would pull on the wards more sharply and probably bring Severus and Draco down from their room. Harry didn't want to interrupt them before they were ready. He could handle Ledbetter on his own.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, aiming his wand at the Auror, who had halted beyond the wall when he saw Harry.

Ledbetter sighed again. "Making a fool of myself," he said. "I'm oversensitive, and I think too much, and I'm getting old. But my conscience can follow me into bed at night and eat at me, which the Minister doesn't have the power to do." He gave Harry a sharp nod. "I walked away from my job this morning. I'd like to offer what support I can to your cause."

Harry caught his breath. He had some understanding of what this meant. He could remember the speech that Ledbetter had given the Auror trainees on the very first day of their training:

The Ministry teaches the Aurors powerful spells and permits us to handle some curses because they also know that they're going to train us in morality. They want to imprint iron principles into us, principles that won't waver or break. If you face someone who's killed members of your family, you still have to be able to put him into a holding cell instead of killing him. If you see your partner die in front of you, you have to capture the person who did it, so that he can stand trial. We forget revenge. We forget personal passion. No matter how exhausted or frustrated we get during the cases, we remember that we're serving the wizarding world and not ourselves.

Ledbetter had impressed on Harry that it was unheard of for an Auror to walk away from the Ministry and join some rival faction, unless they had already had compromised loyalties before they started training, like some of the young wizards who had gone on to become Death Eaters during the first war with Voldemort. It would be like raising a private army of mercenaries against a centralized authority—rebellion and treason. Some Aurors had become private dueling instructors or investigators when they tired of their jobs, but that wasn't the same thing. That wasn't using their skills against the Ministry.

Harry shook his head. He was breathing again now, but it was still coming short. "But whywould you do this?" he asked. "You don't know what I might be capable of, and you told me that your loyalty was always to the Minister, no matter who the Minister was at the moment."

Ledbetter snorted. "Because of my conscience, I told you," he said. "I heard about Pepperfield and Huxley. When someone does something illegal and malicious, you arrest them. You don't weigh alternatives because the alternatives might hurt you less. You don't—" and his face twisted "—decide that you don't need to arrest someone because the only people they hurt are ones you don't like. You don't."

He leaned forwards, his eyes so stern on Harry's face that Harry felt paralyzed. "Did I tell you that my principles were tested when I'd only been an Auror for three years? My brother stole Galleons from two wizarding families and reduced them to poverty. I had to decide between arresting my brother and letting them be hurt."

"You arrested him," Harry said. He hadn't heard the story before, but there was no question in his mind now.

"Too bloody right I did," said Ledbetter, with grim satisfaction. "He confided in me because he thought I was still only his brother, that becoming an Auror hadn't changed me. But my pain wasn't more important than his victims' just because it was mine. And I'm doing the same thing now. It hurts me to see the Minister acting like this, but that wouldn't matter if he weren't wrong. So I'm withdrawing from the Ministry until such time as he learns better."

Harry couldn't help smiling; Ledbetter sounded exactly as he had when heckling the Auror trainees in his classes who he knew weren't trying hard enough. But he did have to say, "You could just withdraw from the conflict, sir. You don't haveto support me."

Ledbetter gave him a deep offended look, like a hawk whose prey dared to talk back to it. "There's not doing the wrong thing," he said, "and then there's doing the right one. Holding neutral is the first. Joining you is the second. I never want to hear you fail to make the distinction again. Do you understand?"

Harry couldn't seem to stop grinning. This was more dangerous now, with the stakes higher, but, on the other hand, he had another ally, and someone who could counteract the relaxation of his morals that Swanfair might introduce, and someone who could give him something to do with his life. He could still train as an Auror even though he wasn't in the Ministry any more. "I understand, sir,"

Ledbetter nodded. "Now. Are you going to introduce me to your bondmates?"

*

Studying a way to combine Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions was much easier when one had an instructor in the Defense portion, Draco discovered quickly. Severus could have taught him, yes, but Severus was much more interested in brewing and had never relished the role of teacher. Draco thought it better to pick up as much information about Potions as he could from Severus and study Defense with Ledbetter.

That wasn't to say he liked the man.

The moment Harry introduced him to Draco, Ledbetter eyed him with an unpleasant smile and said, "Glad to see that you're somewhat different from your father. The face doesn't make you look so."

The bond turned thick and red, but Draco took a deep breath and concentrated on the advantages that studying with Ledbetter might offer him, instead of the immediate offense he took. That let him keep his temper, and put a hand on Harry's arm, shaking his head to show that he wasn't deeply affected. When he met Ledbetter's eyes, he said, "And you have some intelligence. That face doesn't make you look so."

Ledbetter froze, his body tense as if he were going to hurtle forwards and curse Draco. Harry, of course, immediately tried to get between them. Draco hauled on his arm and shook his head again when Harry looked at him. Admirable as his desire to protect me is, I wish he could see me in some way that would imply he wasn't always looking at my weakness.

Then Ledbetter laughed, and nodded at Harry. "I can see why the company of a Death Eater might offer you compensations," he said. "Let's begin."

Draco hadn't realized how much Harry had suffered through when he still attended the Auror program; it was no wonder he had come back to Spinner's End tired every night. Ledbetter was a grueling instructor. A good one—he had fitted the old aviary with the tiled floor up as a dueling room, reinforcing the walls with wards and the floor with protective spells, inside an hour—but hard.

Severus would raise an eyebrow if he thought Draco wasn't trying hard enough at Potions, and that stung more than hard words. Ledbetter was nothing but hard words. He heckled Draco for ducking when he should have dodged and had a particular pleasure in using Tripping Jinxes to make his face collide with the floor. Draco went to bed more than once with a nose that had been healed four times.

Ledbetter arrived each morning for three straight hours of practice. Where he went after that, he wouldn't tell them. Harry said that Ledbetter was working against the Ministry in some way that he didn't want them to know about yet, because they might not approve, but Draco thought it was simpler than that. He never forgot that Draco and Severus had been Death Eaters, and he didn't trust them.

More than once, Severus watched a practice through a hole he had carved in the door and masked as he had the window by the front door. Draco didn't mind. Someone who distrusted him and treated him this hard might injure him, and Severus would be the one who decided when injuries to his lover became unacceptable. Draco had accepted that long ago.

Meanwhile, he enjoyed the lessons most of the time. It was a pleasure to watch Harry duel and not have to think that someday Draco might face him across a battlefield. His grace was amazing. He understood many of the most complicated spells that Ledbetter tried to explain to them intuitively, though he fumbled when he tried to explain them to Draco, because his mind simply leaped ahead too fast. The bond flowed with new emotions, especially interest and passion, that had been missing so far.

And Draco learned, too.

He absorbed more of the theory of Defense Against the Dark Arts in those first weeks than he had in the rest of his life so far. Ledbetter didn't consider it sufficient that they knew which countercurses they should use. He would explain each curse, why the Ministry had banned it, and what he would do to them if he caught them using it as well as the countercurse.

Draco walked out of their fifth lesson with his brow furrowed. It seemed that it would be harder than he had thought it would be to combine Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. For one thing, Potions relied on careful combinations of ingredients and thinking out things beforehand. Defense, as Harry had shown with his talent for it and as Ledbetter had emphasized at least twenty times a day, usually required split-second decisions and a memorization of theory so great that it became instinctive.

He hadn't done well at memorizing the ingredients of the potion that Severus had given to test him. How in the world was he going to memorize entire ingredients lists to the point that they became instinctive?

Maybe the answer was to go the other way. Maybe he should be able to adapt Defense to the slow pace of Potions instead of quickening the brewing.

Draco smiled as those thoughts coiled through his head. Let them mingle enough with his ordinary thoughts, and he had the feeling that he would start having wonderful ideas.

*

The stalemate is broken.

That was the first thought that popped into Severus's head as he watched Brynhildr Swanfair walk into their house that morning, a fortnight after she had tried to enchant Harry. There was a sprightliness to her step that was more indicative of her mood than her restrained facial expression.

Swanfair saw him and curved her lips into a smile only a whit less dangerous than a vampire's. "Severus," she said, assuming an intimacy that Severus had not permitted to her. "Will you fetch Harry for me?"

"Harry is still sleeping," Severus responded, which in this case was not a lie; both Harry and Draco had been more tired than usual after their sessions with Ledbetter. Severus suspected that the bond was also drawing energy from them to form the new link between him and Draco, though he had not told either of them yet. Harry, at least, would grow fretful. "You should speak with me."

Swanfair spoke so quickly as to make it seem that she had not even paused to consider that course, except that Severus knew she had because he had seen her eyes narrow. "I will do so. It is right that all members of the alliance know what has happened, and you are so close to Harry that he will not resent your hearing it first."

She was obviously fishing for some response. Severus gave her nothing but a reserved smile and a gesture to sit down on a couch in the sitting room that they were on their way to transforming into a secondary library. Swanfair settled with a great fussing of robes, as if she thought that she might catch some disease from the furniture if they were not perfectly arranged. Severus knew the fussing would have worn on Draco's nerves, and on Harry's, though in Harry's case he probably would not have been able to say what the implication was. He himself could settle and raise one eyebrow.

"My spy in the Minister's office is someone sympathetic to our cause because of sympathy to Mr. Potter," Swanfair said, in a confiding tone that made it seem as if they were sitting in a large room filled with spies. Severus watched her indulgently. Someone like Swanfair must have her little dramas. "He has found out that the Minister plans raids on the house of everyone who carries a Dark Mark. The official excuse is a reason to suspect Dark magical artifacts in their possession, but you know as well as I do that there is little likelihood of that."

Severus nodded. Most of the Death Eater families had given up the great majority of the artifacts they possessed to the Ministry in the wake of the war, whether those artifacts were Dark or not. It had been a wrench for them, but their safety and survival came before material objects. Of course, the Ministry could always allege that they had too easily yielded the artifacts that the Aurors knew existed, and thus there must be others buried in cellars and sitting in warded trunks in attics.

"And now, the gem of this crown of information," Swanfair added with some relish. "He plans a raid on your house as well."

"Though our Dark Marks have become phoenix marks," Severus said. He knew, of course, that this consideration would make no difference to Shacklebolt, but it was possible that Swanfair's spy had made an inference from the information he had gathered so far rather than actually heard the Minister target Severus's triad.

Swanfair caught his eye and gave him a deeper and slower smile that said she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Though your Dark Marks have become phoenix marks, yes. My spy heard your names mentioned distinctly. He believes that this is in part a product of the Minister's frustration. He continues to believe that you...influence…Mr. Potter unfairly." Severus kept his face straight, concealing his amusement at the way she spoke of "influencing" the minds of others when she knew that Harry's bondmates knew about her attempt to enslave him. "If he can find some evidence of another crime, then he can arrest you as he cannot arrest you for the crime he believes you have committed."

Severus grunted. Yes, that sounded typical of Shacklebolt. Severus could have expended some sympathy on the man if he had been so inclined. He had stepped into a situation he had believed was ideal and then discovered, too late, how much he would have to compromise his idealistic principles in order to achieve anything permanent.

But Severus's sympathy was rather restricted to his bondmates and those who made some real effort to help them these days. "When will this raid be performed?"

"They're scheduled to begin in a week," Swanfair responded. "My spy believes that it will take Shacklebolt that long to winnow through the ranks of his Aurors and choose only the most loyal. There's been a great deal of muttering among them lately about the way he treated Mr. Potter."

The weight of the smugness in her voice led Severus to a conclusion. Her spy is among the Aurors, or perhaps among the Auror instructors. Since Ledbetter came to us, it is not impossible.

"The most devastating blow we could strike is to publicize this," he said.

Swanfair nodded. "My spy hopes to come up with a complete list of the families that will be subject to the raids. Then you can choose the raid that you like and have your tame Skeeter standing by to capture it."

"Why choose another raid and go to the trouble of waiting?" Severus arched his eyebrows. "I was thinking of capturing the raid on ourhome."

For the first time, he saw a trace of anxiety whiten Swanfair's features. "You must realize that such an action would put Mr. Potter in danger."

"You have been witness to several recent demonstrations of his strength. Forewarned, do you believe he will not be a match for the Ministry's Aurors?" Severus laced his voice with mock concern.

Swanfair met his eyes, showing full well both that she understood the mockery and that she did not intend to back down. "I believe that he may have trouble controlling his temper if he sees you threatened. The last thing we need is a public demonstration of his strength that will make him look bad to the people that he needs to impress."

"There will be no question of any of us being in danger," Severus said smoothly. "We will have set up traps before then, I assure you."

"What sort of traps?"

Severus said blandly, "As I am sure that you have secrets of your own that you wish to reserve, I know that you will appreciate it when I claim this as one of ours."

For a moment, Swanfair's nostrils flared. Then she took a deep breath and rose to her feet. "The rumor that Shacklebolt intends to change the laws and punish people retroactively is gaining us support," she said. "I spoke with Mrs. Zabini this morning. She will not stand passively by and let someone change the Britain that she has grown up in, to quote her."

"Tell her to set up an interview with Skeeter," Severus said. "It sounds as if she could be eloquent on our behalf."

Swanfair froze for a moment, head uplifted and quivering so that the ends of her hair stirred. "I am not your messenger," she said.

"Was my tone too close to a command for your liking?" Severus leaned forwards, his smile firmly in place. "My apologies. I believed that you had an affinity for commands and commanding."

"If he has forgiven me for a test that was meant to reveal his limitations," Swanfair said, "I do not understand the amount of blame that you direct at me." Already she had controlled her emotions well enough to present an air of injured innocence. "Surely it is Mr. Potter's affair whether he hates me for a simple enchantment that now he will know how to recognize and counter."

"Who spoke of hatred or simplicity?" Severus spread his hands and let her take that ambiguous remark as she would. "In the meantime, I must thank you for the information that you have offered. I know that Harry will be grateful for it."

"I should prefer to see him before I leave," Swanfair said, her face now as pale as her family's namesake, "to make sure he has received the message."

"I am his bondmate," Severus said, assuming a pompous expression. "For me, his exhaustion takes precedence over your fear."

Swanfair's eyes narrowed in thought. Severus was content to watch them do so. He had deliberately laid down a false trail that he was sure she would follow happily. She would think that Severus's concern for his bondmates was overwhelming and stifling and ignored political considerations. Her actions against them, based on that false premise, were unlikely to be as damaging as they might become otherwise.

And anything that might tame and frustrate her impulses to betray them was to the good as far as Severus was concerned. He did not think that she would continue her attacks once she was convinced that Harry was stronger than she was, but on the other hand, Harry's strength had the unfortunate side-effect of appearing as weakness to someone like Swanfair. Severus would prefer not to have to deal with Swanfair's injured pride in addition to everything else.

"Tell your bondmate that I hope he sleeps well," Swanfair said, back to bland again, and gave him a small bow, and left the house. Severus watched, as always, to make sure that she actually proceeded beyond the wards to an appropriate Apparition point before he turned and went upstairs to wake Harry and Draco.

He met them on the stairs. Draco's wand was drawn, his face so sharp that he resembled the ferret that Crouch Jr. had turned him into during his fourth year. Harry leaned on the wall to hold himself up as he struggled with a jaw-cracking yawn, but Severus could feel the bond surging with strength and alertness behind that.

He may learn some deception before all this is over, Severus decided approvingly, and then focused on Draco's question. "What did she want?"

"The Ministry intends to conduct raids on the houses of those families who carried the Dark Mark," Severus said casually, "under the pretense that they possess dangerous Dark artifacts that should be surrendered to Ministry control. Our house will be one of them, as confirmed by Swanfair's spy, who appears to be an Auror."

"I think it must be Scarman," Harry said at once. "Ledbetter mentioned him a few times and looked sly." He rubbed the side of his face. "We'll anticipate the raid and have Skeeter standing by to capture it, I assume?"

"Of course." Severus let his eyes linger a moment on Harry's face. The bond conveyed the same alertness it had shown before, but there was something different about him, something that had not been there when Severus saw him at first. A pallor to his cheeks? A mouth pursed in exhaustion?

I wish Kingsley would stop these useless procedures. What is it going to take to get through to him?

Severus felt his mouth fall open slightly. He shut it at once, but Draco had noticed and came down a few steps to grasp his hand. "What's the matter?"

"I heard—one of Harry's thoughts," Severus said. It would be worse than folly to attempt to conceal the change in the bond from them now, when they would need to become proficient in using it so as not to become distracted by it.

Harry whipped around and stared at him. "What thought was it?" he asked in a low voice.

"That you wish Shacklebolt would stop doing useless things, and that you despaired of ever making him see that he does not need to do them," Severus answered. "The thought seemed dipped in despair."

Harry hesitated as if not sure what his reaction should be; the bond wavered and trembled back and forth between several colors. In the end, he gave Severus a wan smile. "Yes, that was it," he said. "And I was wishing that you could hear it, without wanting to sound like I was whining by saying it. You said the bond could let us hear specifically directed thoughts, right?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. I will not be able to invade your head and overhear thoughts that you do not direct specifically to me, and neither will Draco," he added, because he guessed that that was part of the reason behind the fear racking the bond at the moment. "But it may prove effective for distance communication."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I can see that."

He probably would have said something else, but Draco interrupted. "Does that mean that the bond between us will be developing soon?" he demanded of Severus. "You said that it would, but I haven't seen any sign of it so far."

Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder and gave him a slight affectionate shake. "Yes, my impatient one, it will. The beginning signs will probably be too subtle for us to recognize. There is no reason that we should at first notice an increased sensitivity to each other, for example."

Draco sighed. "It'll be good to feel those emotions that you cage up too often," he remarked. "Harry and I have done more sharing in the bond than you have."

Severus coughed, caught by surprise and disliking the feeling. His first instinct was to defend himself, which was never a good sign. "We should consider how we intend to counter the Ministry's raid."

Harry gave him a single heavy glance that seemed to say he knew the reason behind Severus's desire to change the subject, but entered into the discussion with a will. Draco suggested numerous spells on the edge of Dark Arts, Harry gave details on the way that the countercurses Ledbetter was teaching them could be used, and Severus took on the burden of the Potions defense.

We work well together, Severus thought, as he settled back against the wall and idly surveyed the other two. Harry and Draco were arguing about whether a specific curse Ledbetter considered Dark and Draco didn't should be used in the attack.

Draco caught his eye. A wicked grin was the only warning that Severus received before Draco's thought leaped into his head, sharper and tarter than the one of Harry's he had "tasted." Better than you continue to expect. What must we do to impress you?

In the end, Severus had to cough again and turn his head away, because he didn't know that he had an answer to that.

Draco helpfully sent the names of a few sex acts that he thought might impress Severus, and then added, And just imagine what will happen when we have our first blended dreams.

Perhaps they will not be exciting, if you offer me the gift of your body outside of them, Severus noted.

Draco scowled, and dropped the discussion for the moment. Severus was more relieved than he liked to admit. So far, he had thought more in terms of what the changing bond would do to Draco and Harry than the effect on himself.

That effect will not necessarily be either easy or uniformly pleasant.

*

Draco licked his lips and glanced down at the book in front of him. Since the disaster of the first potion that Severus had wanted him to brew, he had found himself checking even recipes he knew well obsessively for the details. He repeated to himself now Opaleye scales, goldfish fins, Crup tails, before he looked up and into the cauldron filled with shimmering silvery liquid with a blue scrim over the top.

This was his first time attempting to combine Defense Against the Dark Arts and a potion. He thought he had the right to be nervous.

Worry slid through his mind. Draco blinked. That emotion had a sharper edge than normal. He wondered why. He had finally persuaded himself to go ahead with this because, if he failed, it was better to fail in the potions lab and out of sight of anyone who might berate him for it. Was he backing down now, when he had come so close to the goal?

No. I won't let that happen.

Draco began salting the cauldron with vials of the appropriate powdered and crushed ingredients, his eyes darting back and forth between the potion and the book. Yes, the Crup tails went in last, and then he had to stir the liquid seven times in a counterclockwise direction with a silver ladle. The ladle was within reach. He picked it up and used it. Yes. That was done. He laid the ladle aside, on a piece of cloth that Severus always spread out to catch the potion that might fall from the bowl.

Worry slid through his head again. Draco scowled and told himself to have better control of his emotions. Just because he had come to the moment when he needed to combine the spell with the potion was no reason to drive himself into a panic.

He extended his wand over the cauldron until it was suspended entirely above the potion. Though this was all theoretical, he had decided that the potion should "know" the wand and draw as much influence as it could from the hawthorn wood. Hawthorn was associated with fairy magic and the supernatural passage between worlds. Considering what both the potion and the spell were intended to do, it was not entirely inappropriate.

At some point you will need to choose a potion and a spell that do not rely so much on the coincidence of your wand being hawthorn.

Draco ignored that thought as he had ignored the worry. Yes, it was true. It was also irrelevant for the moment, when he was trying to see if he could get a simple experiment to work, rather than planning out the whole course of experiments he would do in the future.

"Video per praestigias," he whispered, and, as the spell formed in a shimmering yellow circle around the end of his wand, he plunged that end into the potion.

There was a soft explosion that Draco felt in his bones rather than heard. Shuddering ripples spread out through the potion, and the cauldron rocked. Briefly, the silver liquid turned yellow, and Draco felt as though someone had grabbed his wand and was pulling on it. He held firmly onto the wand despite the opposition, pulling it out of the liquid again. It dripped with the potion, but a simple Drying Charm cured that.

Now for the really theoretical part.

Draco swallowed and laid his wand down beside him. Modifying the potion with the spell had actually been simple, because at least he knew the brewing process of the potion and the spell's incantation up to this point. Now he would have to modify the recipe, and choose the ingredients that he thought the most likely to complement his intentions.

And to understand whether the effects were what he wanted, he would have to drink the modified potion himself.

His hands were shaking as he reached out and picked up the nearest vial. Then he opened it and scattered the fairy dust carefully across the top of the cauldron, following that with a feather from a Fwooper wing and the powdered dust of an opal. All bright, shiny, changeable ingredients, and not ones that reacted badly with each other or with what was already in the cauldron.

The potion nevertheless leaped skywards in a silent fountain of silver and gold. Draco had wards around the rim of the cauldron for exactly that occurrence, and the liquid hit the wards and fell back. The potion then stirred for long moments as if it had sharks swimming in it, then calmed and cooled. Its surface turned the color of electrum.

Draco licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the lab door was unlocked. If the transformed potion poisoned him, then he wanted Severus able to reach him immediately.

That seemingly alien worry was in his head again, and Draco had to pause and shake it away before he reached for the silver cup he had sitting nearby. He dipped it into the potion, drew out a small amount, and then raised it to his lips.

His arm froze for a moment. Angry with his own fear, Draco tilted back the cup and drained the potion he'd drawn to the dregs, which admittedly didn't take very long.

The potion tasted sharp going down, as if he'd pressed his tongue to a tiny bolt of lightning. Then a squeezing feeling surged through his eyes. Draco tensed and did his best to remind himself that Severus could brew a potion to restore his sight if he was blinded, and anyway, he didn't think it would come to that.

Then a soft glow shone through his eyelids. Draco opened his eyes and turned around to stare at the lab door.

He whooped with triumph. The potion had worked. He could clearly see by squinting that the ward on the door to conceal what was happening inside the lab from curious strangers was still there, but he could see through it, and in fact he could see straight through the door altogether, out into the sitting room where Harry was frowning into a book Ledbetter had told them might prove useful.

Draco danced smugly around the room. He had combined a potion that was supposed to make privacy wards stronger with a spell that would allow the caster to see through illusions. And it had worked as he had hoped. The wards that gave others false impressions were still up, but he could see through them if he wanted to. This potion would be a great help to them in struggles with the Ministry, since it would allow them to essentially fight through their wards without lowering those wards and becoming vulnerable to the enemy.

I'm a genius.

He slowed his dance at last and beamed at the wall—

And realized that the worry was still in his head, sliding like silky oil across the surface of his mind.

Draco blinked and turned towards the lab door. The emotion felt as if it were coming through the bond with Harry, except that he could feel Harry was still involved in his studying, his emotions muted in the way that they became when he wasn't sure how he felt about the material he was reading. This worry was bright, sharp, clear, and present, as if the person worrying knew exactly what he had done and wondered about the result—

Then Draco caught his breath.

This is the bond with Severus starting, I think.

He smiled and began to ladle the potion into vials, so that he would be able to leave the potions lab as clean as his conscience and go and comfort Severus. His fingers seemed to fly among the vials. Even nearly dropping one because he was going so fast didn't damage his mood.

This is a bloody good day.

*

Draco and Severus were locked in their own bedroom again, and the notion of their door closed on him while he sat downstairs dug into Harry's heart like a thorn.

He wasn't learning anything from his book, so he closed it and put it blindly aside. He hesitated, then Summoned ink and parchment and scribbled a note. Gone to practice Quidditch on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

The broom he'd bought for himself in celebration not long after the war ended was also a Firebolt, but more streamlined and a different color than the one Sirius had got him. Harry was glad. He wasn't sure that he could face a broom that looked like his old one ever again. He filled his mind with that thought as he shut the door of the house behind him and checked to make sure the wards had caught.

He walked through the streets of Hogsmeade and waved to those of his neighbors who deigned to notice him. A few came up to say hello. Harry smiled and nodded his way through short conversations on the state of the weather, his eyes on their hands all the time. They could still draw a wand and hurt him badly if he didn't watch out, as mild and supportive as they had seemed since Huxley's last attack.

I hate that I have to live like this, he thought wearily as he finally stepped onto the field where they'd held their political gathering a few weeks ago. I thought I could finally be at peace after the defeat of Voldemort. Who knew that there would be so many people who were determined to kill me and my bondmates?

He leaned against a tree for a moment, feeling drained and overwhelmed. His self-pity ran through him in sluggish rivers. If things were different, he could have a much better life, a simpler one, without the constant need to be on his guard. And he deservedto have things be different. It wasn't as though he had gone out and volunteered to fight Voldemort; it was just something he had had to do because the bastard was after him. It wasn't as though he had asked everyone to shower him with fame and glory because of his non-choice; it was something they chose to do.

Why does everyone else get so many choices and I don't?

But then Harry shook his head, wrapped his legs around the broom, and kicked upwards. And the force and speed of the wind tore the self-pity away.

He spun sideways until he thought he would vomit, then aimed himself straight up at the sky and soared until his hands ached with cold and his breath was forming into crystals in front of him. Then he flipped over and drilled straight down towards the earth.

The ground twirled beneath him, a kaleidoscope of sloppy brown and slushy white and sketched black and fragile green, with the March wind coiling and stirring around it all. Harry fixed his attention on one point in that dancing mess—the circle of green that was the field he'd flown from—and let himself fall until it seemed that he would crash into it. Then he pulled back up and began to flip head over heels. The bristles left fleeting afterimages on his eyes. His breath stuttered and stammered in his lungs. His heart slammed into his ears.

Finally he flipped upright and made himself stop. He hovered above the spot where he'd first flown into the air.

With his blood high, with his brain vibrating with tension and exhilaration, with his eyes still holding onto their vision of the sky, Harry found it much easier to make the adult decisions that he knew he had to. He'd needed that reminder that there was something outside himself, and something outside the intense, cramped confines that he shared with his bondmates. The house was not the whole world. He didn't always have to hide inside it, either.

And he didn't have to share everything with Draco and Severus—which was only fair, because they couldn't share everything they experienced with him, either.

Harry leaned forwards, pressed his forehead against the broom, and made his decision, the same way he'd made his decision to let Ginny go and to try and stay friendly with her after their breakup, the same way he'd made his decision to oppose Kingsley even though he had once considered the man a friend.

He would leave Draco and Severus to enjoy their new bond and their love relationship as much as possible. He would try not to be jealous. Of course, he wouldn't always succeed, but he would go away and be by himself if he was jealous, the way he had just done, so that he and they could both have some space.

He would consider what he would want if he were to date someone again, and look for those qualities in people he could trust. It might take a while, given the politics around his every move at the moment, but Harry really didn't think he would be alone for the rest of his life.

He would make sure that any person he chose to date was also courteous towards his bondmates, and more than tolerant of them. Draco and Severus were in love with one another, but they didn't deliberately try to leave him out of that relationship that could only be shared by two people. Harry wouldn't want to exclude them from his, either, especially because he'd picked a lover who was rude and stupid.

There, Harry thought, lifting his head and shaking it like a dog shaking off water. It's not perfect, and we'll still feel each other's uncomfortable emotions sometimes, but it's much healthier and it lets everyone have some freedom from each other.

Feeling much calmer, and less jealous than he had been since Severus told them about the bond forming into a circle, Harry flew home.