Draco woke to shouting.
Ah, that sounds more like a house with Potter in it.
Too curious about the noise and discontent in the previously calm Grimmauld Place to bother with getting dressed, Draco padded down the hall, barefoot and pajama-clad, following the noise to the Floo Room he had seen the day before. The door was shut and Kreacher was stationed outside, rather oddly like a guard.
"What's going on?"
The elf bowed as the shouting paused momentarily.
"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Ron Weasley and Mrs. Ganger-Weasley are here. They are angry at Master for housing Mr. Malfoy."
That explained the shouting. Weasley had never liked Draco, and apparently Potter's decision to be custodian was not approved by the redhead. Never mind that Potter outrank even Draco, much less the youngest son of the House of Weasley, and that Potter was a parent now and perfectly capable of making his own decisions like a big boy.
"May I go in?" he asked the elf, unsure if Potter would lock him out. The elf just bowed and gestured for Draco to follow him into the room.
"Master, Mr. Malfoy is here, sir." The elf bowed again before he shut the door with a snap.
Potter had his back to the door, facing the two Weasleys. His face was a calm, cool mask, much like Lucius had worn on many occasions when showing his anger would hinder rather than help. His hands were tucked casually in the pockets of his fine robes, but his spine was rigid with defiance. Without his schoolboy glasses, Potter's cold stare cut to the bone. Draco wondered how Weasley was still standing. Maybe he was used to it.
Weasley was just in front of the hearth, face red with shouting and fists clenched by his sides. Granger stood off to the side of him, looking accusatory but a little weary at the same time. Both of them were also dressed in formal work robes, but not nearly as nice as Potter's. But they're not members of the Wizengamot.
"You!" Draco's entrance served as a new place for Weasley to point his anger. "What are you doing here?!"
"I live here now," Draco sneered, "courtesy of Potter, as you might have heard. Took this option over a cell in Azkaban with my father." Potter shot Draco an annoyed look, letting him know his manner was doing nothing to diffuse the redhead. Too bad, Potter. A Malfoy woken with shouting is not a Malfoy inclined to be polite to people lower than him. And the youngest Weasley son was a lot lower than Draco, even as a criminal.
"I'd have chucked you in prison before I let anywhere near my house, Ferret," Weasley shot back. "How could you take him in, Harry? He'll probably attack you in your sleep!"
"Merlin's sake, Ron, he doesn't have a wand! The Wizengamot gave him all kinds of rules in his sentencing. He can't even give orders to a house-elf!" Potter stopped, pulling his emotions back under the calm mask. "It's good for us both to let him stay here. He stays out of Azkaban, and while I'm at the Ministry he can watch-"
"You can't seriously trust him with Teddy!" Granger burst out.
"Yes, I can. I need someone to-"
"But he's a Death Eater! He's Marked, and you trust him with your CHILD?" Merlin, Granger was going to keep harping on this thing, wasn't she? He wondered why they talked like Potter had only one son. What about Reggie?
"My dragon trusts him. If he betrays that trust, he'll beg for death long before I give it to him." Draco shivered at Potter's cold tone. What did that mean?
"Oh, your dragon, huh?" Weasley scoffed. "The fact that your Patronus didn't try to bite his head off like he deserves means nothing! He's slimy Death Eater scum! He's got the Dark Mark!"
Draco could almost hear Potter's mask, and his control over his magic, shatter. The flames in the hearth roared up, but the room turned cold enough for them to see their breath. The amount of power running through him caused his eyes to glow brightly, while the magic running through the room forced Draco to his knees and the other two to back up and hold the wall for support.
"My dragon knows more about trust and family than you ever will, Ron," Potter said in a low, growling voice that made the hair on Draco's neck stand up, "and the Mark is nothing more than a scar now. I've got more than enough scars of my own now. You've overstayed your welcome this morning. Get out, and owl before you visit next time."
Weasley opened his mouth to say something just as he and Granger disappeared with a pop. Potter dropped to his hands and knees, visibly straining with the effort to pull his wayward magic back to him. After long seconds of silence the flames died, the glow in his eyes dimmed, and the room returned to its normal temperature. He turned towards Draco, but didn't meet his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Draco just stared.
Uncomfortable, Potter muttered something about the Ministry and disappeared through the Floo.
-0-
Harry couldn't believe he'd let his control slip again like that. He'd almost had a repeat of the last time. No wonder Malfoy had looked terrified. If he hadn't made the wards throw Ron and Hermione out, he could have destroyed the center of his home and killed everyone living there. He knew what happened when he let his magic go free…
He hadn't let himself think about what happened all day. The Wizengamot was a political arena, and he needed all his focus to play the game. He was in the middle of a subtle bargaining for support with Lord McFare on his move to reform some of the Heir Laws. Harry had eaten lunch with the older Scotsman, casually remarking on how giving all the titles to the Heir seemed to show favoritism to the eldest son. McFare, Harry knew, held two titles, but had only become Heir after his two older brothers died in an outbreak of Dragon Pox before they married and had sons of their own. Both titles would have gone to his oldest brother otherwise. He hoped this ploy would work to bring the man over to his side before the full Court in Midwinter.
Now, though, he was tired after the long day of game-playing, his bones ached from the effort of recalling his power that morning, and he just wanted to go home to his sons.
The only thing stopping him from running for the nearest Floo was the thought of answering more questions from Malfoy.
Get over it, Potter. Everything you've been through, and you can't face one nosey houseguest? Please.
Harry gritting his teeth, but packed up his work and Apparated home.
Only to find Malfoy waiting for him in the entrance hall. He ground his teeth together and clamped down on his temper.
"I need tea. Whatever you're about to say or do can wait until I'm in the kitchen with a cuppa in my hands." Malfoy crossed his arms, but he nodded as Harry stalked past him into the house.
He managed to wait until Harry had had his first swallow of tea before he spoke.
"You're sorry?! You show off all that power, the wards on your house FORCIBLY Apparate Granger and Weasley out, and the only thing you can think of is that you're SORRY?"
"What else should I say? I started to lose control! What should I say, 'Look Malfoy, I'm a bomb! Isn't it just grand?'" Sarcasm dripped from his last words.
"I'm sorry I got caught up in it all, but the LEAST you could have done is stayed and explain it to me! I have to live here too now, some warning would be nice before you blow us all sky high!"
Harry's grip on his anger slipped, and the tea cup he was still holding shattered in his hand, followed an instant later by all the dishes in the cupboards. Acting on instinct, Harry pulled Malfoy toward him and threw up a shield to deflect the bits of porcelain flying towards them. When the air cleared, he pushed him away and dropped to the floor, head cradled between his arms, desperately pulling back his magic and his temper.
Kreacher appeared and began repairing the cabinets. Not wanting to look a Malfoy again, Harry turned and watching the elf work.
"Can you fix the dishes, Kreacher?" The shook his head.
"No, Master. The dishes are too broken. Master must buy new ones."
Damn it. He hadn't shattered all the dishes at once since that first year after the War, and he wasn't looking forward to buying new ones again. Malfoy took a deep breath behind him.
"I'm sorry, Potter. I shouldn't have confronted you like that."
Harry didn't acknowledge him, still waging an internal war. Twice in one day he had let his power out, and this second time it refused to return to him. Too much had built up for him to control it, he needed to drain it off somehow instead.
Severus, he called out to his familiar in Parseltongue, I need the bite.
Yes, Brother, the snake responded as he slithered into the room and toward Harry's still-crouched form. Harry extended his right arm and, while Malfoy watched, allowed the snake to sink his fangs deep into his wrist. The venom began to burn immediately, and the world turned blissfully blank.
-0-
Draco looked on in shock as Potter let his snake bite his wrist and pump his body full of poison.
"What the hell?!" he cried, rushing over to Potter as he collapsed. The elf stopped him before he could touch the man.
"Mr. Malfoy must not touch Master. Mr. Malfoy can still be hurt by Master's magic."
"Does he have a death wish?! Why did he do that?!"
"Master's magic is too strong for him. Master lets his snake bite him sometimes. Master's magic burns the poison out and he can control it again."
That… actually made sense. Potter couldn't pull his power back again, like he had that morning, but it was too dangerous to let go. Having his snake bite him would force his magic to protect him by burning the venom out, but it would also drain his magical core. His power would be weak for a few days, and he could get it under control again then.
Draco followed the elf as he levitated Potter up the stairs. Half way up the staircase to the fifth floor, the elf stopped him.
"Mr. Malfoy must stop here. Mr. Malfoy is not permitted on the fifth floor. Kreacher must raise the wards to hold in Master's magic."
Draco sensed the shift in power that was the wards going up. Tentatively, he reached out a hand. It stopped at a smooth, invisible surface rising up from the stair in front of him. He ran both hands over the cool, solid air, feeling the thrum of power through them.
These were war wards, not just family or blood wards. These would protect from almost any attack, and they were the strongest war wards he had even seen.
Just what the hell is going on with Potter?