In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

77. C77 - the Pure-Blood Life

I'm back from my Hiatus! Thank you so much to everyone who told me to take my time and use this break well. I certainly took that advice to heart.
I've re-read the entire story, made notes etcetra to ensure I feel more confident going forward with writing. I did not find any major plotholes thankfully, but there are a lot of chapters that shall be re-uploaded over the next few days/weeks to fix minor inconsistencies (like... is there coffee at Hogwarts. And how much does Harry know about Slughorn? Things like that.) Wanted to wait with that until I uploaded this chapter so you guys wouldn't get flooded with emails without warning.
Please note: this re-read was not specifically for fixing grammar/spelling. Only for a couple of chapters, there were so many spelling and grammar issues that I'm re-doing them entirely, but I prefer to continue with writing and ensuring the content itself is correct. I apologise for any typos that will still be left in.

That being said, let's get on with the story.
Enjoy!

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Chapter 77 - The Pureblood Life

He'd never thought that one's room could be a quiet, safe retreat. In the dorms at Hogwarts, even with privacy wards and silencing spells, Harry always had to be on alert for others to barge in like Ron who wished to enthusiastically talk about one thing or the other. At Sirius' home he was a guest more than anything and the bedroom certainly felt like it, usually shared with Ron too and the shrewd eyes of Phineas Nigellus' portrait on alert. At Riddle house he never knew when his presence was demanded, when Barty would flip the mattress to get Harry out of bed for a training session. Even his room at the Dursleys, though his family had avoided physically stepping foot in it out of a lingering fear, had always been filled with their presence nonetheless. Their noise through the walls as they shouted and screeched, their rules, their catflap, their bars…

Here, no-one disturbed his thoughts, his space, not without a polite knock at the door. The fluttering of the decorative sheer curtains in front of the arched window was all the noise that invaded the place unless he decided to deliberately make some. Or when his dear Hedwig was present, of course. She never was one to keep quiet when noticing she didn't have to. He wondered when she'd return from the hunt, the reason why he'd left the window open. Even outside was quiet this late afternoon apart from the twittering of birds as the manor was surrounded by thick woods.

It was a much needed relaxation after the past eventful days. Some of the time spent with Voldemort had taken the edge off the strain he'd felt a tiny bit at the start, which had then instantly been negatively compensated due to the ordeals with Sirius, the Dursley's murderer and, most worryingly, Voldemort himself. In retrospect, the teen was fairly certain that only their mental bond had prevented an escalation. That moment, where he'd stared the man down over the tip of his own wand, was not something he wished to be reminded of.

That didn't mean he shouldn't be. In fact, Harry knew he should never forget how quick his partner was to react with aggression. After all the time they'd spent together, all the talks and dreams and moments he dared call tender when no-one was listening, nothing exempted Harry from being met with the same unstable moods that Voldemort treated everyone else to. The only difference: Harry was perhaps the only person who could hope to sway the man. Not that the credit should only fall to one of them. Incredibly, it had been the yew wand to lower first, and Harry admitted to being impressed by just how hard Voldemort was trying.

Which was why he was all the more worried about said man not showing up anymore after that day. They'd talked it out, hadn't they? Voldemort had admitted to having misjudged the situation, whereas Harry had realised that Lucius and Narcissa being 'put in their place' as the other had worded it, had been for Harry's sake as much as Voldemort's.

For apart from deep running family issues, his partner had also taken great offense on his behalf at only one of them being invited to sign the engagement contract the Malfoys had drafted up. Sure, in their eyes this was proper form as they – as new guardians – had a right to sign it in Harry's stead, but he didn't enjoy being left out of life-changing events. From what Narcissa had explained after, they hadn't imagined that he'd disagree to the union due to their previous conversation about the budding relationship, though that did little to make him feel less left out. Had it not been for his partner having the same views on taking it slow, Harry might actually be engaged by now. As strong as his feelings were, that certainly was not a step he felt currently ready for. Harry hardly cared that in the eyes of this new society, it was considered selfish to decide one's own romantic path.

Honestly, as much as Harry wished that their relationship could speed up a bit at times, he was thankful that Voldemort hadn't signed that contract. The offense on Harry's behalf was… touching, to say the least. It showed an understanding that the Gryffindor had oftentimes feared didn't exist.

Harry smiled as he recalled how, right after resolving the tension of the argument, they'd caught some fresh air by strolling through the garden, just the two of them. He'd carefully slipped his hand in Voldemort's and been rewarded with another breath-stealing kiss, however chaste it had been. After sharing their first in the dead of night with barely a word, he'd been afraid that it wouldn't be mentioned or repeated, considering how shaken they'd both felt that morning with the new experience of whatever that dream had been. Surely, the brilliant man would be able to explain in detail if Harry dared ask, but as Voldemort had been glaringly absent for four days, there was no chance to. Impatience was gnawing at his insides. Of course rationally, Harry knew he couldn't simply expect Voldemort to drop all of his business in favour of entertaining him. Rationally, he understood that the revelation of having literally resurrected from the beyond after more than a decade had thrown heaps of work on the man.

It didn't make the selfish feeling in his stomach disappear.

Wistfully, he sighed and attempted to draw his attention back to the potion book he was attempting to review. Three study sessions a week with Snape and Draco hadn't worked wonders for his holiday spirit. Yesterday and the day before, they'd started a complicated brew that would need tending to tomorrow again. Having a break from lessons today did nothing to stop Snape from interfering in his free time however, as the surly Professor had demanded an essay on said potion as Harry 'had nothing better to do than lounging around'. It was a minimal comfort that Draco was saddled with the same, even if they were not allowed to work on it together.

He jumped when with a soft pop, the House-elf appeared, looking incredibly frightened. Before Harry could thank them, they'd vanished, leaving only a letter in Harry's hand behind. Curiosity ever piqued, he turned it over to check the wax seal, with a start seeing that it showed a miniature version of the Dark Mark. How subtle. Hopefully Voldemort only used this in private, letters with such a seal being intercepted would for sure raise questions even by those who wished to deny the return of the feared Dark Lord. Harry tore into the envelope with a sudden burst of excitement after not having heard a peep for days. From it, he withdrew a piece of parchment that had been tightly folded many times. When finally done prying it open and unfolding it, Harry was both intimidated and flattered by the amount of text.

Dear Evan,

days are impossibly dull without your running commentary. It was unavoidable however, the cause for which you surely can imagine. It is as if I have been reborn yesterday, one after another flocks to me for approval or for me to tend to their trivial problems. It is stifling. Nonetheless, I suppose I must be grateful for the amount of interest my revival garnered. All who denied ties to me before shall think twice now before they write me off once more. It is also beneficial that every one of them owes me a great deal of favours now, some of which I have instantly called upon to further our plans.

It is unknown to me when I can afford to return to England. Currently I am in the very north of Scotland, negotiating terms to at last permanently house the merfolk we released from captivity in safe waters. They had a much harder time adapting and being taken in by previous schools of their kind than any other magical being, thus I am working on setting up a refuge. I personally thought the endeavour wasted labour due to their inability to aid us actively, but their wellbeing was perhaps the first point in which Lucius and Barty ever agreed, so I am attempting to trust their expertise and instinct. I expect you to agree on this matter as well.

Being here reminded me of your desire to visit the ocean properly one day. We'll see if there is any time left before you need return to Hogwarts, though I imagine it will be difficult with all other duties at hand, so do not get your hopes up. You would enjoy the environment here - it is cold, rough and dangerous, exactly the type of things you typically are attracted to.

Re-reading that line a few times, Harry felt a heat creep on his cheeks and wondered if the double meaning had been intended. He could just imagine Voldemort's snarky voice, baiting him. The man seemed to take far too great pleasure in giving suggestions without following through. Exhaling shakily, he kept reading the letter.

Speaking of spending time together, it will take a while until we shall share dreams again. Considering how grave the after-effects were of the potion I used to keep awake when searching for Nagini, I decided to improve the formula, which has reached the testing stage. So far, I have not experienced ill effects after more than ninety hours, which is a pleasing result. This could be a breakthrough in productivity. At the moment, time is a sorely necessary good if I am to address all matters that need attending to. It will be a welcome change to leave my 'day job' as I know you to call it, behind, to instead concentrate on my Magic-given duties in a more hands-on manner.

Which leads me to another topic: promotions. After your successful suggestion regarding my new right hand, I once more seek for your opinion. Barty advised me to consider Miss Delacour as an appropriate replacement after Noctua steps down.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Fleur had been put forward to replace Noctua? Was that why she'd been threatened into attending the Ostara ball? He could see why it would be a smart move, but it hadn't looked like she'd known anything about this 'offer' last weekend, nor was he too sure about her willingness to work together with Voldemort. That she agreed to one of his actions didn't mean she was suddenly all on board, right? He recalled her suspicion and hesitance towards the other guests, preferring to stick to Harry and a few of the beings she knew who'd been invited too…

I was not convinced when he made the recommendation, nor am I after personally speaking to her. Since you are more acquainted with Delacour, I ask for a review of her capability for such a high position. I understand she received multiple academic accolades and as victor in the Triwizard Tournament, her magical proficiency is not what I am questioning. Far more how likely she would comply to our agenda, whether she can lead and how strong her loyalty and resilience against temptations to switch sides would be. I faced many unanticipated hurdles when taking up the position as Chief Editor. With my experience, I naturally did not underestimate the strain that came with the secrecy, responsibility and double life. How someone barely out of school will fare with that is sadly a speculation that cannot be put to the test beforehand. Yet I am left with few options besides her. Thus, I ask you to think it over so we can discuss it when next we see each other.

I hope your holiday has been productive so far. The Malfoy library has one of the finer collections in the country, so I implore you to peruse its selection, and while you may not be happy about my approving of Severus' suggestion to teach potions, this may be your only opportunity before the O.W.L.s to widen your experience to include working with and gaining an understanding of rare ingredients.

He couldn't help but scoff at that last line. True, the potion Snape had Draco and him brew right now featured illegal substances he'd never worked with before, but that was exactly why Harry failed to see the point. This was absolutely not a potion that would be covered in either the practical or the theoretical part of his exam. Not that it was worth arguing over, especially not if Voldemort indeed would only return when most of those lessons would be over already… He sighed again, grumpily this time. Here he finally had two weeks away from Hogwarts and he still couldn't just… hang out and relax with the one he truly wanted to spend time with. The ball had been nice and all, but short, just like the morning after had been short. All in all, they hadn't seen each other for more than a couple of hours and a night. His eyes drifted back to the letter, stroking the meticulous handwriting. He imagined slender fingers grasping a quill and putting it to parchment, knowing exactly what to say. There were no splotches of ink where he'd hesitated, no scratched-through words or messed up strokes like Harry's own letters were always filled with to Hermione's great irritation. As if Voldemort had planned out what to say down to the last syllable before putting it on paper. One more tiny detail to love. Harry inwardly smiled as he got back to reading.

Other than intellectual pursuits, it would be wise to not neglect social events. Knowing the Malfoys, they would wait for you to ask about it instead of forcing it on you after the security of their standing has been shaken.

''And whose fault is that,'' the teen muttered.

Not doing so would be a lost opportunity that would betray you are an amateur at the game of politics, which is why I beseech you to set aside your distaste and use this. The children of my followers are for now out of my direct sphere of influence – and interest besides. I would much rather have you command them.

He blinked down at the letter. ''Sorry what?'' he exclaimed disbelievingly.

I shall inform you soon of my exact return date. You may warn your guardians and Severus that your schedule is to be entirely cleared no matter their plans then. I fully intend to indulge you at least one full day before you need return to the cradle of my enemies.

Yours,
Lord Voldemort

With mixed feelings, Harry put the letter down. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that the man who kept a diary as a teenager tended to write long descriptions of what he'd been up to and what he expected to happen in the near future. It did feel as if Voldemort was attempting to push Harry to action again. Be social, practise potion skills, write a report on Fleur… Harry left the letter behind on the desk to perhaps read over once more later. Instead, he stood and moved closer to the window for some fresh air to think, droplets of fine rain blowing in with the wind as dark clouds gathered in the sky. He might as well do as his partner wished, he decided. His only other priority right now was Sirius, and there was no opportunity for searching out Sirius before Snape wiped the man's memory (the potion master had refused to speak about whether he'd succeeded already or not).

Although… it wasn't entirely true that he couldn't. Only that he shouldn't. But when had that realistically ever stopped any Gryffindor in their tracks for longer than a couple of days?

Harry gravitated towards his trunk and withdrew Sirius' mirror, which he held up to the light. No markings of a missed call, but that didn't necessarily mean Sirius hadn't brought it along to wherever he'd gone to cool off. In the previous days, he'd hoped for his godfather to take the initiative in calling and hadn't wanted to come across as pushy. Plus, Voldemort's orders to Snape had always been on the back of his mind, there was a good reason why the man wanted Harry's godfather's mind wiped too. But Harry just had to know if Sirius was alright, if there was anything he could do… no matter whether the other could still recall everything or not.

Resisting temptation for a while longer, he left the mirror at his desk as he started listing names of people he should get more info on, then moved onto writing as much about Fleur as he could think of, hoping it was enough. Voldemort seemed to have this odd notion that getting close to someone meant automatically knowing their strengths and weaknesses, innermost thoughts and goals. He was friends with Fleur, that didn't mean Harry had a clue about her work ethics, only a gut feeling. He tried his best nonetheless.

Finally, when there was no more he could think to write, eyes inevitably shifted to the gleaming, silver surface. Making up his mind, Harry took the handle and held it up, repeated Sirius' name clearly a few times. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

With a stutter of his heart, Harry finally dared exhale when Sirius came into view. ''Hey,'' he started carefully when not being met with the usual excited greeting. He wetted his lips, which had gone awfully dry all of a sudden. ''I just… I wanted to make sure you're… okay. Are you? Okay, I mean?'' he stuttered, almost tripping over his own tongue in his haste to get the words out.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times, until a mutter finally made it through: ''I… Merlin, I don't know if I can do this.'' He visibly swallowed. Steel grey eyes that were known to sparkle so with mischief were impossibly dull, causing a painful wave of guilt to wash over the teen.

''You still remember then,'' he concluded. Where was Sirius if Snape hadn't caught up with him by now? Surely not Grimmauld, that was certain.

''How could I not?'' Sirius scoffed, a slight rasp to his voice. ''That… that whole experience. I…'' Once more, the sentence broke off and a tongue nervously traced chapped lips. Harry wondered if he'd taken over that habit from Sirius or the other way around. ''Are you okay?'' the man breathed, almost pleading.

''Me? You're worried about me?'' Harry retorted, feeling absolutely baffled as he stared at his godfather. As an answer was apparently still expected and it might be helpful to actually establish a conversation if at least one of them talked, he rambled: ''I'm doing alright, Snape's being a right bastard, insisting on teaching me potions we'll never be allowed to brew at Hogwarts during the holiday as a way to suck up by showing how much he 'cares' about my education. I'm sure it's an evil ploy to get on my nerves. Everyone else around me is a lot more relaxed than that bat. Errr…. Narcissa says she'll take me to see one of her duels soon which is cool, and Lucius isn't around too much.'' He shifted uncomfortably, not sure if mentioning Voldemort would make Sirius cut the contact.

''That wasn't… quite what I meant. Your abilities... whatever you did affected you too, didn't it? I could feel – and hear you. Your distress.'' Sirius sounded incredibly upset now, chopped sentences not making too much sense. ''We need to talk, I know that. But this feels all wrong,'' the man finally admitted. ''I hoped that seeing you would make it make sense, but it doesn't.''

Harry understood the feeling completely. Sitting here helplessly when all he wanted was to tightly hug his godfather and reverse time to a day where they' both been more care-free, was torture. ''What can I do?'' His knuckles turned white from desperately grasping the brass frame of the mirror, wishing he could pull Sirius out of it and into his room. ''There must be something.''

''Can you escape from that house? And from Him?''

''I'm not a prisoner,'' Harry clarified, feeling a bit offended at the suggestion. Though he probably wasn't supposed to leave without permission either, his new guardians weren't going to forcibly drag him back if he decided to Floo to Diagon or wherever. ''Just in case, I can use my invisibility cloak if that makes you feel better.'' A plan. A plan was good. Moves to make, a meeting place to go to, to break this hated passive waiting. ''Where do you want to meet up?'' he eagerly asked.

''Neutral ground. Do you know how to get into the nearest Muggle town?''

After thinking for a second, Harry scratched his head. ''To be truthful, I'm not even sure what part of the country this manor is in other than 'England'. Didn't exactly come here via the scenic route. We went from King's cross to Diagon and then flooed. There's lots of woodland and fields around so I don't suppose it's really near any Muggle town.''

For the first time during their conversation, Sirius showed a shaky smile. ''For all their posh Pure-blood ways, the Malfoys live pretty close to Muggles, actually. The manor is behind wards near Marlborough in Wiltshire. Surely you didn't leave your flashy broom in the Hogwarts shed, did you? Flying isn't traced as underage magic. On foot I guess the trip would take about half an hour, but with such a spectacular racing broom – you're welcome – you'll have crossed that distance in no time at all!'' Now Sirius mentioned it, Harry vaguely wondered why flying didn't count. Muggles seeing anyone on a broom in the sky must break the Statute of Secrecy, more so than if he'd use a wand to secretly unlock a cupboard in a Muggle house in the dead of night. Perhaps they just couldn't trace it as one's own magic wasn't used, neither by wand nor hand.

All hesitance flying out of the window at the thought of seeing Sirius again, Harry admitted that he of course had brought his precious broom to Malfoy manor. Still, over time the rain had grown much heavier and was now battering against the window he'd had to close, which made it unlikely to see city lights. The small clip-on compass from the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had once gifted him wouldn't be useful either without knowing which direction he needed to go in. Upon asking, Sirius also admitted that he wasn't entirely sure whether Malfoy manor was located west or east of Marlborough, leaving them to stew on a solution together.

''I've been in Marlborough before, your dad and I watched a Quidditch match there and explored the Muggle side afterwards. I could apparate there first and… and get a map or something. Give directions!''

''Wouldn't it be better if I just…. Asked the Malfoys if you can come over?'' Harry asked, on a second thought finding the plan of breaking out a bit excessive if Sirius could just visit here. It wasn't as if the house was unplottable and as Sirius had been here twice now, there were no wards that blocked him.

''No! Absolutely not! Someone's been trying to tail me recently. I know you don't want to hear this Harry, but I'm positive Death Eaters are after me!''

That assumption wasn't exactly all paranoia, so he kept silent about it for now to not cause more distress. Having Snape accidentally finding out that Sirius was here would lead to a swift obliviation.

''Fine, we'll do it your way. How about this: you go to the city and find a spot to meet. Once you have directions, mirror call me to guide me to your location.''

A tiny bit of tension left Sirius' face. ''Solid plan. Great. Call you again in a few minutes!'' Without another warning, the mirror turned blank again. With a feeling of unease coiling in his stomach, Harry gathered his cloak, Firebolt and some weather-proof clothing. Excuses to go out in this weather went wild in his mind, so in the end he decided to fly directly from his own window instead of attempting to sneak out through the front door. He fastened the mirror to his broom with a sticking charm, opened the windows wide, getting soaked before even taking off into the stormy skies. The invisibility cloak hindered sight, but Harry figured that the rain would have done so too so the cloth didn't bother him too much as it shielded him from more rain. A rush of magic washed over his skin as he raced through the wards. Would Lucius and Narcissa be alerted of this 'break-out'?

He shook his head, that would be a worry for later.

Sirius' face appeared again after a short while and with some difficulty, he managed to direct Harry to the north-west, saying he'd be waiting next to a landmark called 'the white horse' before vanishing again. Sirius' description of 'you'll recognise it when you see it' wasn't incredibly useful, but it helped that the outskirts of the city were indeed only a stone's throw away. Shocking that the Malfoys lived barely two miles from the Muggles they so detested and refused to interact with. They must never leave their manor, for the beautiful woods were sure to be visited regularly by hikers (unless hampered by anti-Muggle wards, which he also wouldn't put past them to have put up). The flight lasted no more than a minute on his Firebolt, not surprising as it went from zero to 150 miles an hour in a few seconds. To reach Sirius as fast as humanly possible, Harry flew straight across the fields instead of taking the long road around.

Despite the tension, the flight was a joy: the weightlessness and speed being a feeling he sorely missed ever since quitting the Quidditch team. Sure, he'd flown a few rounds in his spare time around the castle when feeling up to it, but not nearly often enough. On the other hand, it didn't give him much time to calm the nerves in his stomach, for the teen had no idea what to expect… That Sirius hadn't sounded mad exactly, didn't mean their talk wouldn't get heated when facing each other in person. With his godfather, Harry couldn't send over waves of calming thoughts in hopes of de-escalating any fights.

As he passed over houses and parks on the lookout for this so-called horse, Harry hoped that the rain would hinder people from looking up. He'd wrapped the cloak as tightly as possible, which still might not prevent the wind from whipping it up. Mages should really come up with invisibility buttons like the one on Mr Weasley's flying car, that would be helpful. Brooms were brilliant for sport, less so for transportation purposes. Most mages could apparate and for those who couldn't, all wizarding areas had fireplaces connected to the floo. Brooms were only useful to travel from or to spots in the Muggle world, the obvious problem being that those were exactly the areas where flyers had a risk of being spotted. Without the cloak, Harry would never have been able to fly here before absolute darkness had set in.

After flying a few rounds with increased desperation, he finally saw it: a giant flat horse carved into a field, looking to be at least twenty yards long. At the head of the horse, the unmistakable figure of a massive black dog. The tips of his new dragon hide boots (although he hadn't had the heart to chuck his old sneakers in the trash, Narcissa wouldn't allow him to wear them in the manor anymore) dragged across the wet grass as he dove down to the ground. To ensure the cloak stayed on, he hovered the rest of the way. ''Sirius, I'm here!'' he said, figuring that whispering wasn't necessary since no-one appeared to be around in this mad weather. The dog jumped up and looked straight at him, giving a bark before running towards the treeline in the distance. Harry sped up to keep pace, losing sight for only a moment and suddenly having to brake as Sirius appeared out of the bushes in human form. Carefully, Harry touched down and attempted unsuccessfully to remove the cloak without slipping on the wet leaves that covered the ground. A painful meeting with the local thorned bushes and a few curses later, Harry wrapped the cloak securely around the Firebolt's handle to carry it more easily. Sirius moved with wariness too and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other, neither knowing when to move.

The one to break the tension was Sirius, who stepped forward and enveloped Harry in an entirely undeserved tight hug. ''You really came,'' the man muttered shakily into messy hair. ''Thank you.''

''Of course,'' he replied when finally released. ''Where you have been anyways? I was worried sick when hearing you disappeared from your house again.''

The other snorted disdainfully. ''Snape's been spying, I assume? I knew we should never have trusted that git in the Order. But did anyone listen to my concerns? Nooooo.'' He eyed his godson briefly. ''At least, I assume he's truly a loyal Death Eater after seeing how chummy he was on Sunday.''

Figuring that they would be having the talk here, Harry sat down on a tree that had fallen over, trying to ignore how the mossy bark, which had clearly absorbed an ocean before, soaked and froze his bum at the same time. He grasped at the normalcy of a regular talk, even if the topic was Snape of all people.

''Funnily enough, he wasn't until I joined. You recall when my mother gave me that flower to pass onto him? Long story short, it erased any resolve to kill Voldemort as revenge for her death. He was fully on the Order's side up to that point. Maybe not to 'fight evil' or erase dark magic, but he nonetheless wished to topple Voldemort's plans at all costs. It looks like the both of you have mostly been on the same side.'' It was perhaps not the most elegant summary of Snape's struggles with loyalty and love, but what the hell. The bastard had demanded a five-foot essay on Harry's only free day. Plus, Sirius wouldn't care one way or the other.

''Damn it,'' his godfather sighed. ''Never tell him that, he won't let it go.'' After tigering aimlessly for a bit, a movement followed closely by green eyes, Sirius drew his wand to form a pile out of a number of branches to sit opposite of Harry. ''I've been with Remus for a while,'' he at last answered the initial question. ''I'm sure he's frustrated with how tight-lipped I was, but Moony knows what it's like to live with secrets better than anyone, so he didn't push. I don't deserve that man as a friend, honestly.'' He flexed his fingers, letting the wand roll in the palm of his hand. ''I'd like to… apologise,'' Sirius unexpectantly said, eyes still trained on his own wand rather than on Harry. ''What I said that night… it was unfair, and hypocritical, and I know it made your life so much harder.'' Harry attempted to instinctively protest, but was stopped by the other holding up a hand. ''Look, I know that I am under… influence. And although I hope you can explain this magic to me, before you do, I want you to know how it feels.''

He took a deep breath, and Harry listened intently to each word as Sirius continued with a soft voice, barely audible above the pattering of rain on the thousands of leaves around them: ''There's something constantly there that I have tried to subdue, a feeling of… of pressure. It is pushing me to irrationality and is much stronger when near you. Everything I said, everything I did, was done as I gave into this urge to… to protect you.'' He grimaced. ''That sounds sappy, I didn't mean for that. It's not a nice type of protectiveness, I feel almost compelled to ensure no hair on your head is ever harmed, to ensure that your smile never wavers. That you do not feel pain or grief - that any source of harm is conquered before it ever could hurt you. And Voldemort…'' he spat out the name with more force than Harry had imagined him to be able to after that rush of words without taking a breath in between.

Weathered fists balled so tightly that Harry was afraid the black wand would crack under the pressure. ''He encompasses everything dangerous. You let him so close that he could use and kill you if he so wished. That thought is suffocating and becomes stronger each day,'' he ground out, deep worried wrinkles creasing his face, making Sirius look twenty years older – and Azkaban already hadn't been kind on his age before. ''I don't know what to do.'' Haunted eyes finally sought out his own. ''I never lied to you, Harry. I want to give you space, let you make mistakes, have your freedom to find love in whatever form you wish. But my mind is failing me, kiddo. At times, only instinct takes over and I want to rip him to shreds with my bare hands.'' Sirius released a pained, soft cry that contained all of his frustration as he held up those same, trembling hands. ''Tell me what to do!'' he whispered, and all the desperation was on full display in a misty, steel-grey gaze.

''Me telling you what to do is at the heart of our problem,'' Harry admitted, unable to bear the sight. ''I know that we avoided talking about it up until now but… you realise that you died, right? That that wasn't some lie Voldemort made up.''

Sirius' shoulders sagged. ''I wanted to deny it, did deny it at first. But Voldemort digging through my mind and later seeing the extent of Necromancy from the memory you showed me made me finally, fully, accept that it truly happened. I cannot begin to understand how I crossed over and returned and I don't want to know the details either. That grey space…'' he trailed off, not bothering to finish the sentence with anything but a shiver.

''Well, that wasn't without consequences for either of us, which I only found out after,'' Harry confessed, wringing his hands as he attempted to find a way to make it sound palatable. As he was unsuccessful and Sirius had never attempted to shield him from harsh truths either, the Gryffindor decided to just go for it. ''You are bound to me in a similar way that Inferi are bound to their masters. With having your own soul and mind both, the effect is only lessened, not erased. If I give you direct commands, whether on purpose or not, you have to follow them. Your 'instinct' as you called it makes sense too. Inferi are kind of programmed to protect.'' There, band-aid ripped off.

Sirius let the words sink in for a while, rubbing his temples wearily. When he finally spoke again, it was with much less denial and anger than Harry had braced for. Instead, he thoughtfully mused: ''That explains much… I thought that bastard had put me under a spell at the ball. It felt so cold… so strange and detached. My mind didn't belong to me anymore.''

Letting the 'bastard' comment slide, Harry attempted to offer as much knowledge as he could: ''He figures that the effects were worsened since you didn't know what was going on and shut down completely. I was afraid that I'd have to give you a different order to reverse it, but thankfully Voldemort is well-versed in both mind and soul magic so he did… something to get you back.''

Sirius sighed and placed his head in his hands. ''Merlin, I've never been faced with this kind of magic. All of it is so intense. What I don't understand most of all is why I don't feel angry about it now, simply… complacent,'' he admitted, concerned.

''Maybe it would have been better if you wouldn't have remembered…'' At the questioning look Harry got, he explained: ''If you'd have stayed at your home instead of going to Remus, you might not know about that part of the evening anymore. Your rant was the last drop to cause a swarm of unpleasant rumours and everyone had their memory wiped regarding chunks of the ball that concerned Voldemort, me and you. Snape is still trying to find you to modify your memory, after which his own mind will be wiped.'' Understandably, Harry was met with a horrified look.

''He can't just- People's minds aren't his playthings! Do you condone this?''

It was a concern he'd expected, one he'd struggled with himself in the past days. However, in the end he could no more condemn Voldemort for this than the public condemned the entirely legal obliviator squads that took care of Muggle 'problems'. As such, he reasoned: ''On one hand, I agree that manipulating others like that shouldn't be the first way to tackle a problem. But on the other, memory modification seems to be a pretty common occasion and generally accepted solution. The Ministry employs it daily on Muggles and you as an Auror also used those spells, right? You used it recently on Order members to cover my arse. I understand why Voldemort sees no wrong in changing events in his favour, then. It's certainly not the worst magic he's ever used. I'm far more distraught about what is going on with your mind. I don't know how to fix this or… or even make it more bearable for you! I don't know why it happened in the first place, just a few days ago Voldemort told me that magic does not recognise ownership over living beings.''

''Am I living? Or undead, instead?''

The question made Harry pause and mentally go over the Necromancy theory he knew. ''I… think so? You didn't entirely 'cross over' in the first place, I'll have you know. Your body died and the life force in it left, but your mind and soul were put in stasis so we could heal the rest. True, the life I put in your body was apparently not your 'original' life force, but from what I gathered, that isn't really important. You should also be able to die naturally again. I think?'' he added, annoyed by how much of this was still speculation even after pouring over the Peverell book in his spare time. There was so little set in stone when it came to the Art, as there were so many different factors to take into account with each ritual. He needed to learn more… For one, whether he might have taken Sirius' mortality by giving artificial life. That wasn't a possibility that had crossed his mind before. It was unlikely, he concluded, because otherwise lots of necromancers, Voldemort included, could just supply themselves with life force to avoid death.

His speculation was interrupted soon after. ''Nonetheless, a bit of me died. Corpses or even parts of the self can count as possessions from the theory I am familiar with. So once that was separated… But hey, maybe I'm talking out off my arse because I don't know the first thing about Necromancy. My mum dabbled in it – of course – so I stayed far, far away from it,'' he joked, a smile finally gracing his face again. ''Either way, having an explanation for my feelings is relieving. More so to hear that you are the cause and not a megalomanic Dark Lord. With all his talk of protecting you, I thought he might have cursed me to do so no matter the cost. Which in itself I don't mind too much, I just wouldn't want him to pull my strings.''

''You don't… mind?'' Harry repeated, baffled. How could Sirius just calmly discuss this now? Harry almost wished Sirius was angry, thrashing about in defiance of this fate, searching for solutions together. It was so unlike his godfather to simply sit there and accept it.

Sirius sighed again – it seemed to become a regular occurrence - and stood, brushing the dirt and wet leaves off his robes. ''It might be a compulsion, I'm aware of that. Which doesn't change how real these emotions are. Harry… I failed you in so many ways before. No, don't try to protest again, we both know it's true. First, I wasn't there for you during your gruelling years with your aunt and uncle. Then I cared more about my revenge on Peter than ensuring you were safe. And even when you saved my very soul, I supported a man you'd warned me against until the moment I almost killed you in my madness.'' He sombrely stared down at his feet, which Harry only just now realised were bare. Muddy toes dug deeper into the wet earth. It was easier to concentrate on than Sirius' oddly old and adult face. ''Before, I wished to protect you, yet couldn't bring myself to look past my own selfish goals. Whenever we talked about this, I was defensive of my actions, my reasons. It is only now that I have this inexplicable pull that I can attempt to start putting you first.''

''But it's forced! That should matter!'' Harry stood too now, unable to listen any longer, stepping forwards to embrace Sirius tightly.

Instead of pulling away, Sirius clung to him just the same. ''Now you told me what it is, everything falls into place,'' he muttered almost frantically. As Harry looked up, there was a strange light shining in his godfather's grey eyes. ''It is settling, here.'' The man gestured to his temple. ''I was afraid before, lost. That is entirely gone now. It's relieving.''

Harry didn't know what he could say, most of all as he was unsure about whether this development was good. Sirius seemed to think so, but he was under influence of magic neither of them understood. A puppet, Voldemort had said, one that would never have true autonomy again. ''So you don't wish to reverse it?'' he tried in an attempt to judge how likely Sirius was to cooperate when Harry would search for a way to right this.

The other threw him a bemused look. ''You make it sound as if I am under the Imperius curse,'' he spoke with a weak grin. The grip loosened and Sirius took a step back again, though his right hand kept holding a tight grip on Harry's like a life-line. ''Kiddo, it's not as if I didn't have a life of my own since Christmas. I met people, went out for drinks, made a friend. All without your permission I might add. There's only this urge to see you safe that is now strong enough to finally be above my own insignificant problems. Err, I'd appreciate if you wouldn't order me around if it can be avoided though.''

''Of course,'' Harry was quick to agree. That request put him more at ease than anything that had been said before. Neither Inferi nor House-elves nor the imperiused could actively ask for limitations on the amount of control their masters exerted over them. Not even Dobby had been able to look Lucius in the eye and demand less chores. Sirius had asked for it in an off-hand remark, not seeming to be under any sort of strain as he did so.

Before he could comment on that, Sirius let out a laugh. ''Hey, I just noticed that there's quite some fun symbolism regarding this connection. My Animagus form is often confused with a Grim, a spectral dog that wanders graveyards. Now, I am an undead guard dog for my necromancer – rather fitting, isn't it?''

''Aren't Grims supposed to be omens of death?'' Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

''Aw, Hippogriff dung! People are so afraid of these things that they might well die of a heart attack when seeing one.''

''Hermione once said something similar,'' he smiled, recalling her scepticism. It had been very welcome during a time where everyone looked at Harry as if they expected him to collapse any second.

''Smart girl that one. Say, not your type either?''

''Sirius!'' Harry exclaimed, smacking the man's arm. ''Please don't-'' he broke off, wondering if asking him not to start that again would count as an order. ''Do you think requests trigger this magic?'' he asked aloud, letting the comment about Hermione slide.

''Huh, good question… I guess we'll have to experiment a bit to find out the limits.''

''Wonderful,'' Harry groaned, who had on multiple occasions shot down Voldemort's suggestions to do exactly this. ''If we will, and only if, I'd prefer it in a more controlled environment than some Muggle forest. I can't even cast magic here in case something goes wrong. I'll be with the Malfoys for the remaining holidays though. My schedule got packed full. No wonder Draco always had such a stick up his ass if holidays are filled with tutoring and organised socialising events.'' He pulled a face, although part of his own holiday being filled with exactly that was his own fault for deciding to follow Voldemort's advice by attempting to start organising a social event. Lucius had called it a soirée. ''Did you have to deal with that too when you were younger?''

''Yeah, but I tried to make myself as much of a menace as possible so my parents would beg me to leave rather than attend. It was Regulus who endlessly sat through those dinner parties.''

Something must have shown on his face at the mention of Regulus, for Sirius threw him a concerned look. ''Something wrong?''

Harry rubbed his neck. ''No,'' he denied. Whenever Regulus came up in conversation with Sirius, he always felt bad for not clearing up the misinformation between Sirius and his younger brother. That in the end, Regulus hadn't been just some nameless soldier in Voldemort's army, that he hadn't died insignificant. After reading the diaries, Harry felt as if he owed it to the Slytherin, to at least tell the brother he'd looked up to despite their differences, that Regulus had never fully given up on mending their relationship, struggling between ideals, family and love.

''Harry…'' His head shot up at the tone, which had fallen back into the scope of 'hurt'. ''Considering everything… can we not be honest with each other? You now have even one more safeguard regarding me. No matter what secrets weight on your heart, I'll keep them.''

''It's not my secret.'' But he had so many others, didn't he? Things that couldn't be shared with anyone, not even Voldemort. He glanced at their clasped hands. His felt numb, whether from the grip or the cold, he didn't know. Could Sirius tell that the one he held wasn't human in its entirety? Another tale, for another time. ''I need you to lend an ear about something else. A secret that I don't want getting out, yet struggle with nonetheless.'' Sirius perked up at that.

''Anything!''

Carefully, Harry allowed himself to smile and settled back down on the tree trunk, Sirius moving the heap of twigs closer so he wouldn't need to let go. Grasping for a place to start, he told Sirius of the event right after his godfather's breakdown at the ball. How he'd run outside, only to be followed by someone else. Someone who'd confessed the Dursleys' murder. It took a hundred questions and much explaining to properly explain how exactly a French Half-Vampire had owed a blood debt to Harry. During it, Harry found out how little he'd actually told his godfather before of Voldemort's plans. All of their previous conversations had revolved around personal matters. Beyond assuring Sirius that Voldemort did not wish to unleash another bloody war upon the land and instead attempted to separate their society altogether, they'd discussed very few details. He thus delved into how the Prophet, the Hand of Magic and the Death Eaters were connected, spoke of his meeting at Fleur's place in France and how he'd swayed Voldemort into acting sooner.

At the end of it, Sirius looked completely baffled. ''That is… wow. Merlin, I can't believe just how far off the Order is when it comes to guessing his next moves. International cooperation? Fighting for abused Muggleborns? They'd never have guessed! Albus even mentioned approaching the press due to their new positive influence!''

''It was rather funny to see Dumbledore and Voldemort interacting face-to-face in the Ministry's Atrium without the headmaster having a clue whom he was speaking to,'' the teen chuckled.

''Must have been a sight…'' Then, he asked: ''So you told no-one about knowing who killed your family? Not even him?''

Harry uncomfortably shrugged one shoulder. ''This Vampire attempted to do me a favour. Misguided though it may have been, I can't bring myself to hate the guy for it. I was… relieved, upon hearing the news. I told you a bit of how it was there, why I didn't wish to return and even considered…'' Sirius nodded in understanding, possibly also thinking of the time in Grimmauld's place's tiled up garden when they'd both opened up about dark thoughts regarding their families. ''Knowing I'd never have to return to the Dursleys was liberating. Telling the Aurors would get him arrested, and if Voldemort knew…'' he rubbed his lightning scar absentmindedly. ''You were the one to mention that he might wish to kill them as a gift to me and although he didn't do it, you weren't wrong either. He had planned to and is damned pissed about anyone else getting there first, no matter that I said it wouldn't please me to get corpses on my birthday. I imagine he'd murder that Vampire out of principle alone. So, I'm stuck with having to keep it hidden.''

''Must be difficult when sharing a mind.''

''It's not as if our every thought is visible to the other. I can't imagine he will pick up details from emotions alone and our shared dreams have impressions of places and people, it's not like a regular dream where you might relive parts of memories. And as I said before, possession isn't possible anymore.''

''Did you not see into his head?''

Harry considered for a while on how to properly explain. He'd never needed to describe the experience before and found it difficult to put in words. The impressions, flowing emotions and distorted dreams during the night… the shreds of memory and double vision those few times he'd ended up been in Voldemort's head… ''It's still different than Legilimency and hardly ever happened after we stabilised the link,'' Harry finally said, unable to form words that would make Sirius understand exactly how it felt. It wasn't much, he knew, but hopefully reassurance enough so his godfather wouldn't worry about possession any longer. ''Hey, thanks for listening. You're right, it does make me feel better.'' They sat in silence for a while, each to their own thoughts until Harry mentioned he should return before anyone would miss him.

''We haven't done anything about boundaries yet,'' Sirius frowned, ''Can you really not come to my place for a while? Convince Cissy to let you visit me for a few hours?''

''You want to use the Order's Headquarters to explore the consequences of a Necromancy rite?'' he asked in disbelief. ''I don't think so. Who knows what or who might be listening in there. Besides, since your concern about not visiting Malfoy manor was that you felt you were being followed, I must point out that Snape can also enter there. He's actually counting on ambushing you at your place from what I know.''

Sirius gritted his teeth. ''That bastard… Wait, so it's only him? No-one else?''

Once more, Harry launched into an explanation, repeating Voldemort's words about the reaction to their openly shown relationships, finishing with: ''So that's why at the moment, Snape is the only Death Eater who still has memories of it and is thus the only one after you.''

The man let out a relieved bark. ''Should have mentioned that sooner, kiddo. Could have saved us the downpour. I'm not going to let Snivellus get the upper hand! No matter what lousy tricks he uses, he can't outsmart me. Or outduel me. So little faith, Harry, I'm positively wounded!'' he dramatically sighed, brushing strands of long, wet hair out of his face to add to the effect. ''Here I was under the impression that Voldemort had sicced the whole Inner Circle on me as revenge. If it's just Sevvie, I feel a whole lot less concerned. Oh well, at least we got to sniff some nature instead of the stuffy halls of snobbery.''

''Are you telling me that there was no need to get soaking wet and cold?'' Harry grumbled in disbelief.

''You were a bit stingy on details, kiddo. I'm not taking the blame! Come on, I'm sure your broom can carry us both.''

''The invisibility cloak can't hide us both, though. Side-along apparition might be smarter.''

A short trip to the gates of Malfoy Manor and a slightly longer flight to Harry's window later, the both of them entered Harry's bedroom the same way he'd left, only muddier. As Sirius was drying off his hair with a towel Harry had summoned, the man said: ''Good thing Narcissa is related to me. Those wards would have been a menace otherwise. I still find blood wards a stupid concept, considering how tightly related every Pure-blood family is. At least my parents were a bit more suspicious of 'family' and added a couple of nasty curses for anyone who'd visit unannounced regardless of their blood. I found out the hard way when I snuck out for the night and was covered in boils when attempting to get in in the morning again. Merlin, good ol' mum was furious. Frothing as much as her painting does nowadays. You know the look.''

''Did it include the screaming?'' he faintly smiled while taking off muddy boots and outer robe. A hearty laugh was his only answer. Harry excused himself for a minute to go to the loo and used the time in the bathroom to sort out the leaves and twigs from his hair so Lucius wouldn't get an aneurysm later. ''Do I look presentable again?'' he asked when entering the bedroom again, raising his eyebrows when Sirius gave a hasty, guilty look and pretended he hadn't just been very busy studying the contents of Harry's desk. Like the long, open letter that he'd abandoned there earlier.

''Sirius!'' he cried out in indignation, feeling a flush creep on his face. ''That's private!''

''I saw his signature and got curious…'' Sirius spoke, giving Harry large puppy eyes. ''Didn't think he was the type to send love letters. Bit dry for one, wasn't it?''

Harry harumphed and took said letter, folding it up again to slide it in his pocket. ''How much did you read of it?'' he asked, harsher than intended as his stomach fluttered with nerves. Had Sirius caught Voldemort's innuendo? Scratch that, had there been any topic regarding plans in here that he hadn't discussed with his godfather previously?

The 'errrrr' that followed was enough to know the man had likely read it twice over.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry figured that he needed to set a few things straight with Sirius before they could start working on Sirius 'brilliant plan' of exploring their connection. They hadn't yet addressed what had caused his godfather's breakdown in the first place. ''You do not need to shield me from him, Sirius.''

''Harry, I've heard tales about this man before you were even born!''

''Tales have never done him justice,'' Harry replied quietly, fondness creeping into his voice. ''From either side. Look, I know you won't want to hear this, but your actions hurt me more than he did that evening. To know that you would so blatantly disregard my choices… that hurt, Siri. Whether your intention was to protect me or not does not change that you blowing up at him was anything but helpful to me!'' he was getting worked up, he knew, but this was also a harsh truth Sirius needed to know if he wished for there to be complete honesty between them. ''The evening had finally come close to perfection until your interference,'' he admitted, attempting to at least hide the echo of crushing disappointment he'd felt in that moment where he'd approached the table again and knew, just like that, that the evening had been done for.

Sirius looked at if he'd been slapped, sagging down on the desk chair, hugging himself. ''I never meant to hurt you,'' he rasped out, eyes wide. ''You must believe me, kiddo! I barely remember what I said, there was only this rush of anger at him until it all just suddenly stopped.'' He gasped, but before Harry could cross the distance to comfort Sirius again, the man composed himself, tortured expression changing into pensiveness.

''I still don't like him'' Sirius stated with a hint of amazement that Harry couldn't quite place. Anger would have been more fitting. It clicked when Sirius clarified: ''There is something… changing. At your words, I- '' his brow furrowed in thought, ''Like before, something is settling, which I cannot place my finger on. Something to do with Voldemort. This feeling of worry started to fade the instant you made clear that I did more damage than good. And yet, despite knowing your own thoughts on this, your wishes… I still don't like it. That's good, isn't it?''

''Depends on the point of view,'' the teen commented, chest tightening. ''As info on how much influence I have over you now, it's great news. For me personally, not so much. I… I don't want to hide it like some dirty secret, you know?'' he looked away, plagued by memories of all the evasive talks with his best friends with whom he wished to share every aspect of his life yet couldn't. ''I already have to do that every day at Hogwarts. I want to tell them, like Hermione does when she excitedly speaks of the letters she gets from Viktor. They know I'm into someone but… that's all I can tell them. It's isolating.''

''Look, Harry,'' Sirius spoke with a hint of understanding, sitting down on the bed and pulling Harry down with him. A heavy arm wound itself around Harry's shoulders in comfort. ''Maybe one day you can, just like you can tell me about it now. I know I've been rather… rejective of this relationship, but at the end of the day, I know I cannot stop one as stubborn as you. I only wish you be careful. Don't get caught up in feelings, I don't want you to get hurt. Or used.''

Harry thought about it for a while, through the rosy haze of emotions knowing perfectly well why Sirius was so worried. ''When I got black-out drunk,'' he started, ''Voldemort had me take a sobering-up potion before he deemed it acceptable to stay in the same room with me. And even then I had to beg him to stay.''

Sirius blinked as he processed that information ''He didn't take advantage..?''

''No!'' Harry exclaimed, both affronted on Voldemort's behalf for Sirius even suggesting such a thing, and simultaneously getting worked up when thinking about his lover's overall hesitance. ''Not that I would have wanted it in that specific moment, but he's generally being impossibly proper and... and prudish!'' A great urge to petulantly hurl something at the wall made his hands itch. One of the nonsensical ornaments that littered all of Malfoy manor's rooms.

A hearty laugh startled him. ''The almighty Dark Lord, known for bloody torture and massacres and you're angry that he's a prude?''

''You have to admit that it's surprisingly out of character,'' Harry grumbles. ''I just… it's not something I expected before. Of course, I've talked about it with him, before we were together-''

''Oh yes, I can imagine such a topic flowing casually into any conversation one might have with Lord Voldemort. An offhand mention about whether he's up for ravishing teenagers.''

Harry practically huffed. ''Well, we did in fact talk about that. And during the time we've been together, physical contact was limited to a few hugs, two chaste kisses and some dancing.'' He sighed, glaring at Sirius, who was pressing his lips together not to laugh. ''Not even sure why I'm telling you this, surely you're positively delighted about his reluctance.''

''Why yes, yes I am,'' Sirius spoke in a much chipper tone.

''Can't wait till I'm sixteen to convince him of a snog,'' Harry pettily remarked.

''Harry! My poor heart!'' tears of mirth welled up in Sirius' eyes now. The teen wondered just what image Sirius had had of Voldemort before. He was reminded of the time where Barty had been convinced that the Dark Lord had demanded Harry to bed him at fourteen.

''I get that you're worried,'' Harry at last admitted, chewing on the insides of his cheek. ''I probably would be too if one of my friends was in my current position. The only reassurance I can give you is that he appears to be more interested in spending time with me and tutoring me than… than touching me,'' he finished, embarrassed. ''We've slept in the same bed a few times now and nothing happened beyond holding each other. I can calm his mind by sending over pleasant emotions, which helps him sleep.'' 'Nothing' was a far cry from what it felt like of course, his body fire and flame at the slightest lick of magic that danced across his skin, the way their minds curled around each other even in slumber, but it didn't seem like anything Sirius would be worried about as long as there was no intrusive physical touch, so he spared his godfather those intensely private details.

''A-Anyway,'' he coughed. ''Discussing my love life isn't what we came here for.''

''Right,'' the other spoke, sobering up instantly. ''Gotta figure this out, huh?'' He rose from the bed again, taking out his wand, light catching on the carved runes in its handle. Had Sirius' first wand also had runes on it? It seemed like such a trivial detail, yet after studying Ancient Runes under Voldemort, Harry could now appreciate that it had to be a mighty powerful wand. ''I suggest we just dive into this then,'' Sirius spoke, sounding far happier than Harry felt. ''I imagine it has some limits so we're going to find them all!''

''Not all,'' Harry warned. ''I'm not going to order you to Crucio yourself just to see if you'd do it.''

''Might as well, I've never successfully cast that curse before, so I doubt it would work.''

''Never successfully?''

The man grimaced, stroking his stubble awkwardly. ''My parents,'' he explained. ''You know…''

''I'm truly glad I never met them, they sound worse than the Dursleys.''

''They were bad in different ways,'' Sirius corrected, then rolled his shoulders. ''Okay, let's discuss the plan. I'd like this whole 'you ordering me around' business out of the way first. Try to formulate it in different ways. Requests, suggestions, straight up telling me what to do… maybe non-magical things first and then moving onto more and more dangerous spells to see how far you can make me go. Got that?'' When Harry didn't jump right into it, the man approached him. ''It'll be fine Harry, I trust you. Remember that now I know what it is, so I'll try not to freak out about it, okay?''

Finally getting a bit more comfortable, Harry assessed the bedroom to assure there wasn't anything imminently dangerous lying around that could hurt either of them at a carelessly worded command. Admittedly curious, he carefully asked: ''Could you pick up that quill?''

Sirius cocked his head, as if he were listening to something. ''Vague buzz in my head. I do feel like I shouldn't deny you this, but it's easily supressed.''

''Then I suggest you give me the quill now.''

Sirius's hand jerked, but he stayed put. ''Nah kid, gotta convince me first,'' he grinned triumphantly.

''Okay… I suggest you give it to me so I can make notes on this, that would be helpful to me.''

This time, Sirius had to clearly reel himself back from going to grab it. ''The last part did it,'' he muttered after a few seconds, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. ''It looks like the urge ebbs away after a bit, the effect lingers longer the stronger the initial pull is.''

Harry went over and actually grabbed the quill himself now, because he did, in fact, want to take notes on everything they discovered. The 'experiment' continued slowly, different questions having different results. He could see similarities to how he'd experienced the Imperius curse last year during class. The more outrageous the request, the less Sirius felt an urge to comply. Adding reasons to why it would aid Harry strengthened the effects again. ''I'll give you a direct command now?'' he asked, having wanted to postpone it but running out of reasons why. Sirius looked pretty relaxed about it, giving a nod.

''I want you to-'' A rapid knocking interrupted what he was going to say. Both of them exchanged a glance as they heard Narcissa's agitated voice:

''Harry, are you in there? May I enter?''

While Harry debated between gesturing for Sirius to hide or simply telling him to in the spirit of their 'research', his godfather had already opened the door. ''Cissa! Lovely seeing you here.''

''This is my house,'' she spoke, concern turning into frost. ''Cousin Sirius, I do not recall inviting you.''

''I brought him here,'' Harry was quick to say. ''We're… working things out.''

Her face softened minimally as her eyes hushed over his form. ''I would appreciate an announcement before you receive guests, Harry. I had to leave work early now as the wards notified me of a visitor on a day where we weren't expecting any.''

''Seems excessive for you to come personally, Cissy. Don't you have a House-elf?'' Sirius questioned.

''After our last elf proved disloyal, Lucius and I decided not to take chances, not when it comes to the safety of our children,'' she frowned. ''Does the Dark Lord know of your presence, cousin?''

Sirius put on an innocent smile ''Why, didn't you know? Harry here has a telepathic link with his Lordship and reports my every single move. He even wanted to know how long I took a dump five minutes ago! Harry, don't forget to give the Almighty One greetings from Narcissa and tell him we're all getting along just fine without throttling each other!''

''She knows it doesn't work like that, you twat,'' he replied, rolling his eyes. He addressed Narcissa: ''I didn't have an opportunity to ask him, considering he's in Scotland. Not that it should matter, he's not policing whom I have contact with. I would apologise for not checking with you, but it was a spur of the moment decision and neither you nor Lucius were home. Should I have asked Draco for permission?''

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, otherwise keeping composure perfectly. It didn't look like she'd taken the bait at Sirius' words as more than a poor attempt to rile her up. ''Planning is an important part of daily life,'' she scolded him. ''Each step should be carefully considered. If you only spoke to your godfather today, the earliest an invite would have been proper tomorrow morning.''

''I forgot about that shite,'' Sirius muttered, turning away. ''Spontaneity is to be actively discouraged kiddo, didn't you know?'' he ignored the disgruntled glare thrown his way by his cousin as he plopped down on the bed again. ''Oh relax Cissy. I know I messed up during the party, okay? But-'' he halted as Harry silently shook his head. ''I mean, sorry I left early without courteous goodbyes and all that,'' he corrected, smoothing it over. ''You know me, never one to stick around longer than necessary.''

''Harry could have used your support,'' she stiffly replied. ''Your godson became inebriated and missed most of the ritual, for Merlin's sake! Sir Crouch assured us that you were there to keep an eye on him so we could focus on hosting and then you were gone.''

''I was fine,'' Harry argued back. ''If anything, Sirius would have gotten me drunk even faster, isn't that right?''

''Absolutely!'' the man proclaimed loudly. ''And are you really calling Barty 'Sir Crouch'? That wanker, since when did he get knighted by the Queen?''

''Oh for goodness sake!'' In a very atypical fashion, Narcissa threw her hands up, her mask at last cracking. ''You'd better be gone when Lucius gets home at eight,'' she warned. ''Or he'll hex you out of the house. Until then, not a peep from either of you. And Harry, if Severus complains about the quality of your essay tomorrow, your allowance will be cut!'' At that, she swooshed around and wandlessly slammed the door on her way out with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Flummoxed, he asked the closed door: ''I get an allowance?''

---

Of the seventy-nine Slytherin students currently attending Hogwarts, it could reasonably be said that the majority leaned towards the dark side. Contrary to popular belief – although anyone with a decent amount of knowledge of family lines and half a braincell – only a fraction of those supporters were considered truly Pure-blood, no Muggles tarnishing the line for at least two generations back. It was thus that the meagre twenty-seven people who dwelled at the top of society had been invited today. Astoria knew them all, as they knew her, even long before being placed into Slytherin house. As family, friends, or from attending the same events during childhood. The only outlier was number twenty-eight, the main event: Harry Potter.

He looked dishevelled, uneasy, and kept pulling at the high collar of his robes. On either side of her, more than a few whispers had fallen from the lips of her closest friends. How short their memories were, if Potter's status of untouchable had already slipped from their minds - or had their parents not informed them? Neither Rowan nor Edina had been personally allowed to attend, unlike the Greengrass sisters.

Astoria suppressed a smile as she saw Draco getting fed up and pull Potter's hands away. (She called him Harry to his face like all other D.A. members, but in her mind, he'd be Potter until she was part of the family as well. It was a very Gryffindor thing to do, calling every gnome and their uncle by their given names. She reserved it only for close family, her three best friends and her fiancé.) For once, she would let her attempts to catch Draco's eye falter in favour of observing Potter's capability in this environment. He'd acted out of the ordinary at the ball already, sticking close to those he knew. Daphne had to apologise profusely to father when the Gryffindor had rudely cut the conversation short after they'd gone to the trouble of introducing him to their parents. She'd given the benefit of the doubt then, framing it as ignorance. He had grown up with Muggles of all things, after all.

She'd hoped a bit more time with the Malfoys would have straightened him out some, which clearly hadn't happened. Surely, there weren't that many rules that differed from what he was used to that one would need weeks to learn them all, she thought while picking the appropriate cutlery to spear her fruit with.

Or maybe there were, as Potter abruptly rose, chair loudly scraping backwards in a fashion that would even have Astoria's house-elf squeaking in horror at the lack of manners. ''Thank you all for joining today,'' he spoke, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that he appeared more confident when addressing them as opposed to the previous stares and shuffling. He looked more like the Potter she'd come to know during Defence sessions, where he was utterly confident when imparting his knowledge. She hadn't forgotten the time he'd taught her a humiliating lesson regarding her wand. It was the main reason why she wanted him to succeed. He had it in him. Leading, convincing others to his cause, gaining trust and making people want him to like them. This was what both Daphne and she had wanted to show their parents. Instead, they'd seen a nervous boy who'd only gained confidence when at the Dark Lord's side. A mighty shame.

Potter's speech was short and to the point: they were experts in a world he'd only just dipped his toes in. Whether the open admission was daring or foolish, she'd reserve judgement on. Asking for help so directly was unusual to say the least, but he could get away with it due to being of higher rank. As there was no doubt of the latter, not when Potter had been the sole person who'd been invited to a dance -two dances!- with the Dark Lord himself. Not even to speak of the speech declaring Potter an exception to the Taboo. It was on the border of the stuff scandalous novels were written about; ballroom dances in royal courts and forbidden rendezvouses afterwards. Not that anyone dared breathe a word about the interest shown, it had all been very formal and within sight of Potter's guardians and godfather, after all. In fact, the presence of Sirius Black and the quickly-spread word of his exact connection to Potter had caused more of an uproar, considering he'd been on the wrong side of the war before and declared an escaped, deranged murderer after.

''It has come to my attention that even after the talk of Slytherins sticking together, you lot are pretty divided,'' Potter finished, sitting down again. ''Partially because of me. I want to ask you to please sort this out now you all know that.'' Astoria inwardly cringed at the bluntness. She could see Draco minimally shaking his head in disbelief at his new brother's inaptness, though it didn't look like he was about to correct it. Understandably, everyone else looked rather unsure, gazes drifting back and forth between the most influential parties here among the Slytherins. It was a bit unusual as they'd been invited to sit upon order of arrival instead of rank. Maybe Potter didn't have a clue about their hierarchy… Astoria's attention too, went from the Pucey to Saeth, then to Parkinson and lastly rested on her fiancé. Right now, those four people mattered most.

She was well aware of that she herself had little say: neither Prefect nor Head girl, only a fourth year and second daughter of a family that hadn't affiliated themselves openly with the Dark Lord before, not so much as to take his Mark at least. Still, she'd deserved a spot at this table, which was good enough for now. She'd ensure to make a name of herself after Hogwarts, both by marriage and career. Sitting back to listen in the shadows could be just as helpful at this stage in life.

''None of you have anything to say about this?'' Potter asked in disbelief. ''Lost all fangs when there aren't any first years Hufflepuffs to torment? Pansy!''

The girl shot up from her chair, wide-eyed. Between the Slytherin D.A. members, there had been much speculation about what had caused Parkinson's change of heart, with only Draco remaining mysteriously quiet. Right now, there was unmistakable fear in Pansy's eyes. Interesting. ''Yes?''' she asked, a bit breathless.

''You were the one to start this ridiculous feud, it's only right that you clear up the mess,'' Potter stated. An impressively fair solution, Astoria could imagine many others would have wanted excessive humiliation and blood – figuratively or not.

It looked like Parkinson would have preferred the Cruciatus rather than admit her mistakes to those not in the know yet. She cleared her throat (which for a moment sounded so much like Umbridge that at least half of them twitched or jumped) and took her time to flatten non-existing creases on her long sleeves. Like all of them except Potter, the Prefect had dressed up to the nines for this event in brand-new dress robes and an elaborate hairdo. She fixed a smile into place.

''I thank you for this opportunity to formally make amends. Draco, dear cousin: I must apologise to you once more, publicly this time, for my rash conclusions and ridiculing words. It was unjust to assume you and your parents were disloyal to their family and our common cause, just because I did not have the full picture. As you know, I have already attempted to reduce the damage I did over the past weeks, after realising my error.'' Parkinson let the implication sink in for a moment that she'd realised sooner than the Dark Lord's reveal. Astoria was grudgingly impressed by how collected the older girl was. ''My attempt to divide our House was not becoming of a Slytherin. I hope that moving forward, we can work together.''

''I accept,'' Draco simply spoke, giving a curt nod. With a relieved smile, Parkinson sank back down in her seat, the tension at the table now eased. The fronts that had split Slytherin in two halves had seamlessly joined again now Draco and Parkinson were on speaking terms. It was Draco who now rose. ''In addition to that, I would like to say the following: Our knowledge is not to be spread around, not as long as even a single person in our House might inform Umbridge about Potter's loyalties.''

''Professor Umbridge could help against Dumbledore!'' one of their youngest, a brash first year called Ridley Orpington, interrupted. His older sister hissed in order to shush him.

''We need help against Umbridge herself before removing Dumbledore,'' Potter replied calmly. ''I've warned you at the start of the year about the importance of holding together as students. You've failed to do so, both in your own house and regarding inter-house cooperation. Umbridge uses this to gain a larger hold on our castle each day. First with rules in her class, then with Decrees in the whole castle and recently by involving Aurors and Dementors. Every step we make, she attempts to monitor. Every action that might lead to mor freedom is choked before it grows. She is no solution. Could she help discredit Dumbledore? Maybe, but I personally find him to be the lesser of two evils when it comes to who controls Hogwarts. As this is your first year at Hogwarts, you don't know how it was before her, but I promise you that no-one had their limbs carved up when Dumbledore was fully in charge.''

''You want to get her out of the castle,'' Saeth spoke, and all attention shifted to her. ''We need a plan for that, Potter. And we need to be able to defend ourselves. All of us.''

The hint towards the D.A. wasn't lost to any who were members of it, a small percentage at the table. ''I won't be able to explain that to the others,'' Potter answered her unspoken question, underscored with a shake of his head. Astoria also wasn't sure how Seth expected to add over twenty new Slytherins to the Defence Association (all Slytherins staunchly refused to call it Dumbledore's army) without causing an uproar amongst the rest. ''But I could perhaps teach everyone here a few tricks too in a different session under the guise of studying. Umbridge gives Slytherins more leeway in general, so we might not even need to be so secretive about the meeting, only that I am attending.''

The exchange caused more than a few curious looks as people tried to puzzle together what he was on about. Only Crabbe and Goyle clearly weren't listening to a word that was being said, staring off into space and occasionally taking a bite or bumping into each other. They were largely ignored by the rest, knowing those two were only present as their parents would have been offended otherwise at their non-inclusion.

''In short,'' Potter spoke again. ''I hope all misunderstandings of the school year have been cleared up. There is to be no petty rift in Slytherin anymore; Umbridge cannot be trusted; and you'd all do well to remember your fellow students can do more for you than sucking up to the Ministry. The Dark Lord hates Fudge just as much as Dumbledore's men and right now, the former is a larger threat as they are currently the ones in charge. Even if your parents work at the Ministry and wouldn't harm you, the people they work for don't have any of our best interests at heart, shown by the fact that soul-sucking prison guards without a conscious now roam the corridors of our home.''

Muttering rose up, people sticking their heads together. Bletchley and Higgs whispered about Aurors, while Warrington was muttering to himself about 'stupid rules of a stupid hag'. Although Astoria couldn't stand the creep, he had a point.

She knew though, that Potter's words were just that to those who hadn't seen him in action: words of the fallen Gryffindor hero, a Half-blood who was here due to fate and luck. As none of her betters took a stand for over a minute, Astoria deemed it acceptable to speak.

''If I may,'' she politely started, keeping an eye on Daphne to see if her sister would allow it. A fleeting smile gave her the permission to continue. ''I wish to note that few are familiar with your methods. Your words surely gave food for thought, yet especially regarding Saeth's previous comment, a demonstration might be in order? Show us what you can offer. Why none should question your position at the head of this table.'' It was an open offer, a helping hand, and she dearly hoped Potter would understand it as such.

''I guess in this regard, Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't all that different,'' he grinned, drawing his wand. ''Fine. What I can offer? Let's just say I've had some good teachers over the past two years. Much of the 'extra-curricular material' as Bagman described my spells during the Triwizard tournament, came directly from Voldemort's right-hand man. It's not just spells or rituals though. Over time, I've learned that what matters most of all is connection. To one's body and the force of magic itself.''

Astoria mentally patted herself on the back as Potter fell into the familiar role of teaching. The exercises he showed them over the course of the next hour weren't as flashy as a galloping stag made of lava, but Astoria had never quite felt her own magic as deeply before outside of when she'd participated in large rituals led by older mages. It was a pleasant, warm feeling and it appeared to surprise quite a few in their midst how much difference connection and meditation could make. Her wand felt almost drowsy with power as Astoria released a sizzling spell at the makeshift targets, singing the middle with a satisfying hiss.

From out of nowhere, an owl swooped into the room, a stormy, mean-looking flash of talons and steely feathers. A heavy envelope dropped onto the floor right in front of Potter's feet, the crest unmistakable. Those close enough to peer in to see, including Astoria herself as she happened to stand right next to him, gasped or sucked in breaths. With surprisingly steady hands for someone who'd just received a personal letter from the Dark Lord, Potter picked it up and folded the envelope open. He pulled out a tiny slip of paper.

The girl watched every expression that crossed Potter's face, from confusion to elation. He readjusted his glasses for a moment, fingertips lingering at the rim.

His lips moved, the spell but a whisper: Morsmordre. She'd heard the word before, muttered in Knockturn Alley and amongst those in reverence of the Dark Mark. But instead of the Mark rising, the spell caused a bright, blue flash that left Potter's spot empty.

For more than a few minutes, every one of them forgot all social rules in existence to wildly speculate about where he'd gone and what it had meant. Only Astoria had the sense to lift the scrap of parchment that had fluttered down to the floor in the commotion. On it were a sparse three words in elegant handwriting.

'Come to me'

---

So, we're back on a regular schedule ^^ And at long last, Sirius is up to date! He and Harry are working together remarkably well so far.
I hope you all enjoyed the love letter and that it makes up slightly for the fact that I decided against writing Harry's and Voldemort's talk at the end of last chapter from their perspective.
Next up: a more Voldemort-centred chapter and the end of the Easter holidays!

A note to the few people who asked when my hiatus is over: I unfortunately cannot reply to questions that are posted by anonymous users. I'd like to, but literally cannot. If you wish for a reply, please log in before leaving a comment.

Please let me know your thoughts :)
xx GeMerope