Malfoy Manor - First Impressions

They were met on platform 9 3/4 by a man and a house elf who walked over as soon as Gregory Goyle called out, "There's Dad. Hey DAD!"

He made a motion to the house elf (who looked significantly healthier than Dobby) he snapped his finger once to vanish all the luggage, and another to vanish himself.

The wizard took Draco's shoulder, "If you're ready Master Malfoy."

"Guest first, if you please," said Draco, and pointed to Harry.

He gave a nod, raised an eyebrow at Harry, and without letting go of Draco's shoulder took hold of Harry's as well.

"When you're ready, Mr. Potter."

"Ready for what?" said Harry.

"Side-along apparition," said Draco, "Don't worry, no one is ever ready, he's just asking for permission, the magic is less difficult if your magic isn't fighting his magic."

"I'll do my best not to fight," said Harry, "But, … Nim?"

Nim hissed, and jumped to Harry's shoulder, and then onto Mr. Goyle's. He flinched and swore and froze. She settled herself. And then they were squeezing along impossible directions and through impossible directions, and then Harry was standing in a vast foyer. With a hand on his arm and Nim climbing back down Mr. Goyle's arm onto Harry's shoulder.

Mr. Goyle swore again, took a deep breath and vanished.

"Let's go find my parents," said Draco.

"Alright," said Harry.

"Correction, Let's go find my Dad, Mom probably already knows we're here and will come find us when she feels like it."

"Whatever you say," said Harry.

.

As soon as they entered the small study, (only small compared to every other room they'd been in), Lord Malfoy spun his chair to face them. It was evidently modelled after a muggle office chair, except it used levitation runes in place of wheels. Or maybe it was different in enough places to imply it had been developed independently. He pulled forward and extended his right hand first to Draco, with a "Welcome Home, Draco," then to Harry.

"Master Potter, it is an honour to finally have you visit."

"Yes, I … err 'finally'?"

Lord Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "I told Draco to invite you two and a quarter years ago, when I first put him on the train to Hogwarts."

"Oh, is that why he was like that," said Harry.

"You don't have to smile like I'm cute," muttered Draco.

"Not that you are cute," said Harry, "That you were cute then, not that I could tell at the time."

"Oh," said Draco, then shrugged.

"Well, from the exalted age of 38, you're both cute," said Mr. Malfoy.

I could have told you that, thought Nim.

Oh, hush.

"Draco, why don't you give him the short tour, which should put you to the guest rooms, just in time to dress for supper. You'll have all of tomorrow to give him the long tour."

"Yes, father," said Draco.

.

The house was huge, the rooms were huge. Harry found himself with a mild desire to take pictures just to show Uncle Vernon. But the man wouldn't want to know anything about a house that had been made entirely without drills, and full of magical people and their wealth.

The thought made him feel somewhat guilty, hadn't he gotten his Uncle to like him by promising to fight 'bad' wizards, and wasn't Lord Malfoy exactly that sort?

He sighed, and Nim snuggled his ankle.

Draco stopped talking and stared at him, "Are you alright?"

Harry shrugged, "You know … your dad is the prime suspect of who sent the artefact to Hogwarts to possess people and claim to be the heir of slytherin."

Draco nodded, "Mum and Dad argued about it a lot. Dad says he found it somewhere odd, and was planning on selling it and several other things quick before Mr. Weasley's department had him audited again. But it ended up in Miss Weasley's things instead, that he didn't have a reason to suspect possession or necromancy until it was reported to him, then he went straight to the mind healer and got checked out."

"Oh," said Harry, "And what about Dobby?"

"Dobby has been insane for years, Dad said he finally cracked and became convinced that he'd been freed, I think we're all a little pleased that he's gone."

Harry blinked. There were different kinds of unreliable, and different kinds of lies. And that one felt like Draco was repeating exactly what he'd been told by an authority figure. And if that book had been affecting Lord Malfoy long before it demanded to go to Ginny?

"So your dad doesn't have anything against Mr. Weasley?"

"That's not what I said," said Draco, "I mean he has nothing against any of his kids."

"Oh," said Harry, "What does he have against Mr. Weasley?"

"Does this look like a muggle house?"

"More like a muggle mansion," said Harry.

"No, I mean …" Draco looked around, "actually I don't know what a muggle mansion looks like. Anyway … does it look like we have much interaction with muggles here?"

"I'm not really sure how to answer that."

Draco waved that aside, "The place is unplottable, and behind muggle repelling wards, no muggles can get in here. They cannot find an enchanted item, none of the artefacts in Dad's collection is intended for use in muggle bating, they're just objects that have been enchanted, a rock would have done exactly as well in some cases. If you're going to practice or experiment enchanting a bunch of identical things, and parchment isn't strong enough. Dad says the best cheap thing to engrave on is something called a junction box cover. Mr. Weasley says muggles often cover them in abstract numbers and symbols too, so they'd be impossible for a muggle to tell apart. I think they're even impossible for Mr. Weasley to tell apart. So he just confiscates everything with magic in it. Even if it's just a preservation charm to keep the runes from activating. Apparently they've been arguing about the interpretation of the law for longer than I've been around. And of course Dad collects some of the darker stuff too, he says its because the protections to keep it from triggering at the wrong time are more complex and therefore more interesting, I think he also likes that feeling of power about how dark some of it is, even if he'd never use it, or even touch most of it."

Yeah, there was that one kid in school who collected magazines and catalogues about knives, even though he didn't have any. And then there were the nerds who talked about the capabilities of top of the line calculators, even though they only had the free ones that their parents got for buying magazines or whatever.

"When Dad came home and explained what happened to Miss Weasley and that it could be traced back to Dad loosing control of an artefact, and he was getting a mind healer to assess the damage. Mom said we needed to do the same for Miss Weasley, and they cooked up the plot to double the thousand galleon drawing and fix one of the prizes in their favour."

"Oh," said Harry, "That is so … beautiful, in both a gryffindor and slytherin sort of way."

"And I think Mom sent Mrs. Weasley a letter in some ancient family code saying what she did and why, and what the money was for, and to accept it as a gift, and don't try to cross blackmails with the reigning spider-queen."

"Spider queen?" said Harry.

"What are you talking about?" said Draco looking confused.

"Who or what is a spider queen?" said Harry.

"There is no spider queen," said Draco, "careful you're starting to sound like Miss Lovegood." His face was a little too straight, and a little too intent.

"Hmm," said Harry, "I'll take that under advisement."

"See that you do," said Draco, "Anyway," he turned away and began pointing and describing what there was left to look in that room, then led out onto the landing.

A corridor and stairway later, Draco looked around, "where did we leave Nim?"

"She heard a door open downstairs and thought she smelled grass and ran to investigate before it was closed again."

"Are you concerned?"

"She's a grown adult, she can take care of herself, as long as there aren't dogs or bigger cats around. And even then she can tree herself even better than I can."

Draco shrugged, "There are pythons, most are small enough that … well they could strangle her, but not so fast she couldn't call you for help. How far away can she call you from anyway?"

"At least, from the great hall to the shrieking shack."

"That's … far enough I'm just going to assume apparition range."

"I never heard that apparition had a maximum range."

"It does, about a third of national portkey range. International Portkeys require a bit of extra arithmancy to more exactly correct for the rotation and curve of the earth."

"Oh."

"But apparition range isn't about the curve, it's about the range of your magic. They say that the twist of apparition takes the same power regardless distance. only the mass moved determines the cost, but the aiming of the twist is based on searching spell range, which is determined by the caster's power and focus. But with practice, power is the main limit."

"Repeat that twice more."

Draco repeated it once.

Harry nodded, "Alright, I've got it. Thanks."

"Ah here you two are," said a witch walking down the stairs. Over her left arm hung Nim. Not the way little kids pick up cats, and not crouched on the bend of his elbow the way Harry carried her. No, Nim had her left legs on one side of the witch's arm and right legs on the other. And her neck curled forward to tuck her forehead against the witch's palm.

Did the witch know what kind of pressure that put in certain parts? Did Nim choose that position? Did

Harry dove into Nim's mind and reached for very recent memories, but he didn't need to, there was that satisfied and deliciously wrung out emotion pervading the whole space.

Also a headache, and the yarns of magic around Nim's handlebars were all rearranged. But the last of the black that Harry couldn't get at were dissolved, and much of the yellow also.

"Nim?"

"Master?"

"Is the woman holding you, Draco's Mum?"

"Yes, Narcissa Black, now Lady Malfoy."

The turquoise magic, all either refreshed or brand new.

"Did she try to take you away from me?"

"Not exactly," said Nim, "She begged me to sell you to her, and I said 'No,' rent only. And only when you're ready to choose your own work."

"Thank you, I think."

"I told her your yule present to Draco, translated what Draco figured out it means. You should ask her for everything you want for yule, she might give you most of it."

"I'll think about it."

"Or just the frivolous expensive things, and leave the important things to buy for yourself, so that she doesn't gain too much insight into how you go about wanting things."

"Oh, is that a problem?"

"Probably Draco already knows all that, but whatever."

"Oh, oh dear."

"If you're going to worry that violently, do it in your own head, you're making my headache worse."

"Oh, sorry, Nim."

He withdrew.

Draco and his mother finished negotiating how much time was left for the rest of the tour and they both turned to Harry.

"Sorry, about that, Lord Potter," she said, "Hello, and welcome to our home."

"It's alright, Lady Malfoy, thank you for having me."

She smiled, and looked down, "Lady Nim, will you walk?"

Nim picked up her head and stared at Harry, then at his shoulder.

I'll ride … no … walk, if you tell me to, or if this makes you jealous, otherwise I'd rather ride where I am.

"I think you tired her out," said Harry, "she'd rather you carried her, maybe straight to my room?"

"Does she sleep in your room at night?" said Lady Malfoy.

"Yes, or … well technically she usually sleeps in my lap during class and revising, and goes out hunting in the evening and comes back sometime between 11 and 4."

"Ah," said Lady Malfoy, "in that case, Lady Nim, no hunting or harassing the pea fowl, There are plenty of other things. Though you might have to consult with the pythons where to find them."

Nim mewed softly.

Lady Malfoy nodded, "I'll just go leave her in your room then." She turned away, then stopped and turned half way back, "Do you want to go there now?"

Harry looked at Draco, and nodded slightly. Draco nodded slightly more.

So much for the rest of 'the short tour,' "I'd like that," said Harry.

So Lady Malfoy led them. Harry followed her and Draco walked beside him.

After Lady Malfoy left, Draco proposed Harry dress for dinner.

Harry asked what else he should dress in. Draco shrugged.

Nim showed him an image of a business suit.

Really?

Really.

For supper.

Yes.

Oh, dear.

"Alright," said Harry, "What are you planning on wearing?"

Draco shrugged, "an evening suit or something, do you think corduroy would look too relaxed?"

"I … don't have anything like that."

"No evening suit or no corduroy?"

"I don't have either."

Draco bit his lip "come on, I'll see if I have anything that fits you."

"Oh," said Harry.

.

Draco did have something extra. He had over twenty suits, and from the hints dropped that was just what was appropriate for the current season. He lent Harry two to try on, a wool one in a deep jade. And another in a colour that Harry couldn't decide if it was blue or grey.

There was one in a red much too dark to count as gryffindor red, when Harry ran his fingers over it, it was so smooth it reminded him of his invisibility cloak.

"What is this made of?"

"Acromantula silk," said Draco, "don't even ask, I'm not giving it away until Mom says that sizing charms won't work on it any farther."

"Oh, OK," said Harry, "I wasn't asking for it, I just … never felt anything that smooth before."

Draco swallowed, Harry turned away from the closet to look at Draco. He was red. Very red not a shade like the suit.

"What's wrong?"

"Sorry," said Draco, "It's … I'll buy you one if you want, I just can't give that one away. It was an … extra meaningful gift, just like what you gave me, I can't give it away."

"I'm not asking for it," said Harry again, "I'm not asking for any of this for me, I just … didn't want anything to be more awkward than can be helped, I didn't want to … make you look weird in front of your parents, for liking me and everything, if I don't have a suit."

Draco sighed, "I'm not sure what you're not getting, unless, oh, What's your love language, Harry."

"What?"

"I like getting gifts, I like when people understand when I give them, but usually I can see through people well enough to know what they'll understand, sometimes it isn't gifts. Your friend Hermione likes getting hugs and likes giving help and quality time. Ron likes receiving gifts and help, and likes giving attention, (which might mean he likes getting attention, he's just broken in some way about accepting it when he does receive it), his older brothers the twins, one likes compliments and one likes touch, I don't think either of them get either one except from each other, I have trouble telling them apart the rest of the time. Their sister wants hugs, but mostly survives on words of affirmation, and gives either gifts or acts of service or quality time, I've yet to figure out which is natural, and which is what she's learned her friend Luna wants."

"Oh," said Harry, "Do they know each other?"

"They might each be the only girl that the other knew before they started attending Hogwarts, Ginny's branching out this year, but Luna is still mostly isolated, I was surprised you and she are on first name basis."

"That happened in November," said Harry.

Draco shrugged, "anyway, Luna gives gifts, and wants hugs and compliments and quality time, I have yet to decide which one is primary for her. Who else do we both know?"

Harry shrugged.

"Heir Longbottom wants compliments and gifts, and he gives compliments and service."

"I'm at the point of forgetting everything you're telling me."

"I'm not telling you gossip so that you can coerce friendship with new people, I'm trying to teach you what the common types are and hopefully where to look in your memories for them, so that you can tell me how to talk to you."

"So you can coerce friendship from me?"

Draco shrugged, "So I can make sure you know how I feel when you give me protective clothes made from the remains of the monster you killed when you risked your life to protect your friend's sister."

Harry shrugged, "I don't remember ever receiving enough of any of those to notice, I mean, except that Hermione and Nim hug a lot, and they compliment me sometimes…"

Draco nodded.

"mostly for…" said Harry.

"Oh," they both said.

"I give acts of service."

"Yes, you do," said Draco, "and when we helped you clean up the basilisk, you weren't content to just pay us, you had to also protect us."

"I guess," said Harry.

"I propose that you also like receiving love as acts of service."

"Oh," said Harry.

Draco nodded, "so what in the world did Hagrid do for you?"

"Oh," said Harry, "he got me from my relatives, took me school shopping the first time."

"Oh yeah," said Draco, "I remember that."

"Introduced me to Hedwig."

"Yeah, I see," said Draco, "Alright, well." He sighed, "let me know whenever you need a favour."

"Alright," said Harry, "I mean, lending me these is a favour."

"It is," agreed Draco, "But small compared to what I want to do for you."

"Oh, alright."

So Harry took the suits back to his room and tried them on. They didn't fit perfectly, but they were mostly bigger, not mostly smaller, so he figured they'd work for a day or two.

When he opened the door Draco was standing there in a corduroy suit of deep blue. The legs weren't quite the same size and length. Then Harry understood, Draco had grown some at school and had cast some kind of expanding charm by himself. Harry looked away from the tiny oddity.

"It's not supper time, quite yet," said Draco, "Is there anything in particular you want to explore?"

Harry shrugged, "How about the dining room and the way there and back again."

"Ah," said Draco, "very practical."

.

The dining room was about as over-large as Harry was coming to expect. There were alternating mirrors and tapestries on the walls. There was a table the right size for about twelve people, but there were only four chairs. After a bit of looking around Harry crouched and looked at the gouges in the wooden inlay floor.

"What are you doing Harry?"

"This room isn't always a dining room is it?"

"It's one of five rooms that can be joined together to make two ballrooms."

"Oh."

"We'll have all of them joined together the day after tomorrow, for a yule ball, the dancing will be in the large ballroom and dinner will be in here. With as many tables as will fit of course."

"Oh, alright."

.

Over dinner the topic was school subjects.

Both his parents asked Draco pointed questions about how well he was keeping up, which made Harry uncomfortable. But when they turned their attention to him, it seemed all understanding and admiration. A few of the questions were pointed, but nothing he couldn't deal with.

The next topic was yule preparations and what gifts Harry wanted.

Harry shrugged, then remembered his promise to Hermione. These weren't the 'relatives' he'd promised to beg for help, but that might work out be even better, if Draco was right that they habitually threw money around to display their status, instead of lavishing in-front-of but not on Harry, to make sure Harry was aware of their disdain.

"I need to get my glasses updated," said Harry.

"And help buying clothes," said Draco, "Especially for the ball, and the money lessons."

Lady Malfoy sighed, "Draco, let Harry talk."

"I kind of do want those things," said Harry, "but —"

Nim began to hiss.

Are you alright? Thought Harry.

I'm fine, tell her what you were about to say. She'll give you everything you want after that.

I'm not trying to manipulate her into giving me things.

Don't worry, I'm trying to manipulate her into stealing you from long-beard's torturers.

They aren't his. They hate him.

That doesn't stop him from manipulating them into hating you more and treating you so strict that they managed to notice you dying and not staying that way. And you not notice that.

What makes you think he had anything to do with that.

Spider queen told me that Sirius Black is innocent and that long-beard knows and is blocking the obvious routes for everyone to officially figure that out.

What does that have to do with me?

A deep swirl of images. Then, Come into my mind so you can turn my big thoughts into human words for yourself.

Oh.

Harry dived through into Nim's mind.

"Welcome, master," said the air, "As I was saying:

"—Sirius Black, that big black dog was supposed adopt you after your parents died, he was their best friend, he was your favourite uncle. Well technically cousin, whatever. Dumbledore didn't want that to happen, probably thought you'd have too much fun and not enough seriousness."

"Sounds likely." said Harry, Except the Dumbledore part.

"Then again he has a temper as violent as any of your other relatives, and a revenge ideal as long as the Longbottoms. Which is what he was on about when the aurors stopped him just between when Pettigrew got away and when he turned into a dog again to chase him down."

"Oh."

"I'm not disagreeing that he wouldn't make a good father, I'm saying that he'd have made a better dad than the relatives that did raise you."

"I … don't know what to think about that."

"I'm not telling you what to think about him, he's not the same person after prison, so I'm not entirely sure myself. But … I am telling you that it's Dumbledore trying to keep him there, and Dumbledore who took advantage of the first time to put you with those relatives instead of these relatives."

"He might not have been wrong," said Harry.

"He was definitely wrong," said Nim.

"I'm not saying I liked it there, I'm just saying that kids without discipline tend to act like idiots."

"There are different kinds of idiots, and you weren't exactly the best studier before I was here to provide you with an appreciative audience."

Harry shrugged, which was weird because usually that was his sign to leave Nim alone for awhile, and it wasn't what he meant this time.

"You're right," said Harry.

"Of course I am," said Nim, "Now do you understand why in a world without Dumbledore, Sirius would own you, and Narcissa would confiscate you from him as often as she thought you needed more or different mothering than Sirius could or would give you?"

"Yes, I see," said Harry.

"Now can you let her mother you a little, now and then, where she decides you need it, or when I tell her you need it?"

"Maybe," said Harry.

"Good," said Nim, "Go tell her about food."

.

Harry returned to himself and made sure his eyes were open.

They were still waiting mostly patiently.

"Draco says he thinks my love language is getting help, not getting gifts."

"Right," said Draco, "which is why I didn't say 'clothes' I said 'help getting clothes,'"

"Intriguing," said Lord Malfoy, and Harry realised he was taking notes.

"Good," said Lady Malfoy, "What else would you like Harry?"

Harry shrugged.

"What else would you like help with?" said Lady Malfoy.

Harry shrugged again, "is Sirius Black really innocent?"

Lord Malfoy snorted.

Lady Malfoy merely sniffed and rolled her eyes, "He may not have done the things that he was put in jail for, but he did far worse during the war, both sides did."

"I'm not sure about that," said Lord Malfoy, "he did kill, but he predominantly tried to arrest people, for the justice system to sort out. Though his restraint would usually disappear when a fellow auror went down."

Lady Malfoy shrugged.

Strong emotions, and none that he trusted. Though to have Sirius Black's enemies-in-war but relatives-in-fact praising his prowess and his somewhat limited restraint painted him in a different light than anyone else who's opinion he'd heard.

Then again, maybe that's what all his 'previous allies' had been saying too, "he was awesome in battle, the thought of him not being on our side makes me too panicked to think straight, or even ask for more perspectives."

"Alright, thanks," said Harry and sat back.

"You were going to say something else," said Lady Malfoy.

"Huh?"

"I asked what gifts you would like, you mentioned something, and Draco mentioned two more, and I said he should let you talk."

You're not getting out of it, Master.

"Then Nim reacted to learning it before I could hear it. Should I ask her instead?"

And you would tell her too.

I would. The only thing that letting me tell her would accomplish is giving her another chance to read anything else as well. And the chance for her to decide how much to tell Draco and Lucius.

So I should preempt that by telling them myself?

They will also assume that if you've revealed that, you'll have already revealed most everything less private, they'll look less hard. Thinking they have more of your trust and confidence than they might in fact have.

Ugh, that's not a helpful line of thought to convince me to trust anyone.

I trust her, with that at least. In fact I'd trust her more if she knew it.

Oh.

"I was going to say," said Harry, and stopped to wait for the concepts to fit themselves into a sentence again, "That I didn't need anything, but I would appreciate the things Draco mentioned. And that I count every day that I eat two or more meals to be a gift."

Absolute silence. Even Draco had stopped chewing. Then everything happened at once: Lady Malfoy hissed, "Dumbledore! He said he was placed somewhere safe." Lord Malfoy dropped his silverware and stood up. Draco dropped his silverware, knocked back all of his drink, and slipped out of his chair under the table.

Harry had the urge to stand and go for his wand, but Nim was sitting on his left hand, so his wand was under her bum, and then Draco was at his side, dragging on his sleeve. "Come on, Let's go," said Draco, "In a minute they'll start arguing for real, and I've already heard it all a thousand times."

Harry blinked at him, but let himself be dragged, or more like only adjusted his balance to being dragged, rather than adjusted his balance to keep from being dragged.

And then Nim was dashing ahead. Shortly they were back in Harry's room seated at a kid-sized library table, and Draco was asking an elf to bring their suppers to it.

"What's happening?" said Harry.

"About once a month they argue about Dumbledore. What kind of threat he represents to Britain, and whether or not his intermittent incompetence is worse than anyone else who could be put in the same positions of authority, whether the problem is his own incompetence or that everyone worships him and does what he says instead of noticing his errors, calling him on them, or just correcting for them, which is more normal when you have leaders and followers and the leaders aren't worshipped."

"Oh," said Harry.

"And then they'll argue about whether he needs to be fired or deposed or no-confidence-ed from his various positions, but they never come to anything, the only thing they can really do with the means that they don't mind using, is un-appoint him from representing Britain to the ICW. Which is mostly a messenger position anyway, and the rest of Europe worship him different for dealing the final blow against Grindelwald than Britain does. That would accomplish little but make Britain look petty to the rest of Europe."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Anyway, in a day or two Mom might ask you more questions about how much you get fed at home and if you're safe there otherwise."

"Not really," said Harry.

Draco blinked, "Your cousin that tries to kill you?"

"He's mostly given up by now," said Harry.

"How much could he do without magic?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm still alive, sometimes it was accidental magic that got me away from him, eventually I was just too fast for him to catch."

Draco nodded, "Yeah, alright."

"What?"

"That's not the kind of 'safe' she'll wish for you, we wish for you, but it's safe enough for us to be deliberate and … cooperate with whatever you want, instead of apparating in with wands blazing or anything."

"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah I see."

"Actually …" said Draco, "she's got a Yule ball to put on, she probably won't be able to concentrate properly on anything else until it's done. So … maybe the only thing she'll ask you before that is if you've gotten enough to eat."

"Oh," said Harry, "Shades of Mrs. Weasley, then? Except she didn't ask, she just dumped more on my plate and looked disappointed when I couldn't keep up with Ron."

Draco was giving him a very strange expression. Then he seemed to notice what he was doing and blanked his face, and leaned forward, "This isn't the Weasley's house, there's plenty of everything, whatever you need or even want, just ask. Food or clothes are what we can guess you need without you saying anything, everything else we won't know unless you say. Or if you don't feel like asking me, ask my elf."

"Kinkin," He called his elf again, "This is Harry Potter, you are to come if he calls and get him any of the normal things to make him comfortable. If he asks for something you aren't allowed to get for me without permission, ask Mom's elf or Mom for permission."

Kinkin agreed.

Harry thanked them both.

And shortly Kinkin vanished.

"What sorts of things do they need permission to give you?"

"That I know of for sure," said Draco, "mind or magic enhancing potions. And rides elsewhere when I'm confined to my room or the school room."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, "I'm not sure whether your parents are very permissive, or you lack creativity."

"Or if I prefer to keep my most creative plots from having an elf as witness or collaborator."

"Oh," said Harry, "good point."

.

Second Impressions

Narcissa Malfoy sighed and smoothed her face and her occlumency shields, letting the previous conversation go so that she could be present and alert for the coming conversation. She turned the corner to the guest wing and heard Draco's nasal voice and the mutter of his guest's reply. A few yards more and she turned the next corner.

Harry's room was open, but who was that? A girl hunched and sprawled on the bed, in an powder blue chemise portraying an caricature ear-less yellow goblin. She had one knee up, which would be uncouth if she didn't also have on a black ankle length skirt. Draco was still dressed, perched on the opposite corner of the bed, looking away and down, perhaps studying something in his lap.

Narcissa slowed her pace and silenced her feet. At the door frame she'd seen enough: Harry was elsewhere, deeper into the suite and Nim or one of Draco's pets had been transformed into a pretty for the boys to play with, what remained to be seen was just who was showing off dark rituals, or NEWT level transfiguration. And what message they'd intended by leaving the door open.

She'd mildly expected that sort of thing would wait another year, perhaps two at most, but she'd no illusions about either the genetics or the leadership styles she and her husband had made available to Draco. And of course, there was Harry's parentage.

She knocked on the door frame.

"Hello, Mom," said Draco barely looking up.

"Hello, Lady Malfoy," said the girl in Harry's voice and twisted her legs around to flip off the bed to land lightly on her feet.

An ankle length skirt wouldn't behave that way. And then the whole image resolved into Harry Potter in a muggle shirt much too large for Lucius, and an eastern sword-duellers' pants.

No wonder rumours out of gryffindor tower spoke intermittently of Potter being effeminate, it wasn't the hair, it was the second hand night clothes, a sizing charm would fix most of it. Though that particular garment was perforated from collar to arm pits and many other places. It was a wonder that it hadn't yet separated into ribbons and strings. It probably would with only a little help. Which was tempting in all the wrong ways. She needed him for a strong and discreet political ally more than she needed him broken and whimpering out her name.

"Good evening, Harry," she said, "and you may call me Cousin Narcissa, or Aunt Narcissa if you prefer."

Actually, given their ages and probable levels of proficiency, it was a relief that there were no dark rituals to clean up or terrorised pets to deal with. Thank Merlin and all the pauna.

He swallowed and sagged like someone had cut his strings. He glanced pointedly at Draco's lap, and then sagged back onto the bed.

Narcissa's eyes followed his gaze and found 'Nim' in Draco's lap enjoying a scratch about the chin and neck. Ah.

"I wanted to apologise for scaring you away earlier, Lucius and I should have saved that discussion for later, I'm sorry."

Harry waved it away, then shrugged, "At first I was going to say it to make sure you knew anything I asked for would be a wish, not a need. Then I wasn't going to say it because I was afraid anything I said after that would be begging. Then you and Nim made me say it anyway. Then … Draco explained that some requests don't even count as gifts, they're just requirements of good hospitality."

"Well that is certainly true," said Narcissa.

"And now that I understand that, I, um, didn't want to impose that much, I'm sorry I —"

"Harry, stop," she said.

He stopped.

"You're not the first, and I doubt you will be the last, friend that Draco invites over for a week. So far as supplying hospitality provisions is concerned, that is a thing for adults to worry about before they offer invitations, or before they give permission for their children to offer invitations. It is not a thing for children to consider longer than it takes to say, 'thank you for this meal,' or 'thank you for letting me stay.' Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Mal— Aunt Narcissa."

"Better," she said, "Now then, do you plan on throwing a tantrum if any of the things on your gift list don't arrive on the 21st?"

Harry looked affronted, then disgusted. "No, ma'am."

"Good," said Narcissa, "Then with that contract in mind, would you agree that spending my time or money to provide you with any of the things you request, or not, will be my decision, not your responsibility, for good or ill?"

"I suppose," said Harry.

"Good," said Narcissa, "Now you can ask for anything and everything you wish, without worrying that I might feel duty bound to buy all of them or none of them or exactly as much as it might take to deplete a hypothetical yearly budget I might have already decided upon the first time Draco invited a friend over for Yule."

"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah, that makes sense." And slumped back into the boneless lump he'd been imitating before.

But still no requests were forthcoming. Harry face didn't even telegraph that he was engaged in careful and delicate thought as it had over dinner. Then his breath lengthened.

Ah. "You've both had a long day travelling," she said, "Draco, Why don't you brush his hair, and let him sleep."

Harry's head and eyelids came up again.

Draco looked up at both of them, shrugged, then said, "Because he hasn't asked yet. Also Nim is sitting on me."

"Well, you can see how tired he is, you could have offered."

Draco looked at Harry again. Did they just roll their eyes at each other? About me?

"Harry isn't relaxed because he's resting," said Draco, "He's relaxed because he's not on stage."

Harry sat up and stared at Draco.

"Oh," they both said. Harry looked at her guiltily, then lay back and sighed. But this time the calm was a mask instead of an absence of care. Nim stood and walked across the bed to poke Harry's stomach. He rolled onto his side and curled up around her.

"I'll get a brush," said Draco, "Mum, go away." And he darted from the room.

Nim glanced at her and vibrated her chin, making her mouth rapidly alternate between half open and mostly closed.

Narcissa sniffed, and shrugged, but followed Draco from the room.

She'd barely stepped into the corridor when she heard a noise that made her stop in her tracks.

A sniffle.

When Draco returned with a hair brush, she was still standing there, contemplating Nim and Draco's reactions, and the timing of them. Had she done Harry an insult? She hadn't meant one. But that was hardly the same thing.

And Harry was so difficult to read sometimes.

When Draco passed her, he closed the door.

So … so far Draco was best at reading … at least some of Harry's moods. She'd follow his lead, this time.

.

Abraxans

"I don't think he wants to," said Harry.

Draco sniffed, and rolled his eyes. "They're abraxans, Harry," said Draco, "Not hippogriffs."

"I see that," said Harry, "but it's not informing me what to do differently."

Draco sighed, "They are mammals, not birds, to earn their trust (and therefore cooperation), you need to display dominance and take responsibility for both yourself and them."

"What?"

"They don't pair bond, they're a herd society, you're my cousin, they accept me as a dominant member of their herd, make them accept you as a dominant member of the herd as well."

"How?"

Draco sighed and walked over.

Harry resisted the urge to step back, Draco was very close.

"If I started taking off your clothes and insisting that they were … only fit for burning and …

Harry narrowed his eyes, that was remarkably similar to things he'd said to Ron, except tuned for Harry's weaknesses instead of Ron's. Also the only reason Harry was wearing some of his oldest clothes is because Draco warned him that it was a good idea for today's activity.

Had all Draco's taunts ever, really always been only gloved jabs compared to what they could have been? If he'd been out for Harry's blood.

Probably.

He really has been wanting me for a friend … wanting to supplant Ron in my estimation, rather than drive me away, which is what he was actually doing.

Yes, because he didn't know better.

Then why is he saying what he is now.

Because he knows teaching you about abraxans is a greater act of service and love, than throwing a hypothetical insult at you to put you in the frame of mind he wants you in.

Angry?

Maybe.

"Back off," said Harry.

Draco smirked, "Good. Now, say it like you mean it."

"What?"

Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Um," said Draco, "Imagine … ugh, I don't know, your least favourite girl flirting with you."

"Pansy?" said Harry.

"Careful," said Draco, "she's under my protection, but whatever."

"What's your point?"

"OK, your least favourite boy flirting with you," Draco took a quarter step forward.

Harry took a step back.

"No," said Draco, "Make me step back."

Harry glared at him.

"Good…" said Draco, "and out loud?"

Dudley … or Piers Polkiss flirting. Harry tried not to laugh. Then he connected that thought with the thought of Draco's condescending accent, and the idea of someone using 'stripping him of Dudley's cast offs' as an excuse to … well either rape him or … probably just make him wander the neighbourhood half naked.

Harry shuddered.

In the counter-factual world where someone in Dudley's Gang had turned out to be a poofter, or whatever they were called when they were also bullies. Harry had always been the obvious target. Harry had some defence training, now. So that wouldn't couldn't happen now. In the farther counter-factual that Dudley were a few years older and … whatever gang he'd surrounded himself with had been also … Merlin! That hypothetical was too close for comfort.

Draco rolled his head, "You keep getting almost there, and then turning aside."

"Can you read minds?"

"No," said Draco, "I keep telling you that. Just emotions. So can most people, I'm just magically good at it."

"OK, whatever," said Harry.

"Oh, Never mind," sighed Draco, "Just watch." He turned aside and took the abraxan Harry was supposed to be riding by the mane in one hand and the a joint of the nearer wing in the other.

"The wings are strong but sensitive," said Draco. He yanked the animal around until it and Harry were at optimal mounting angles to each other. "Also they don't mind flying any more than you mind walking, which means, for hours at a time soaring, less, of course, the more diving or flapping we make them do, but exercise is good and makes the whole day better."

"Right," said Harry.

"Anyway," said Draco, "You got this?"

"Yeah," said Harry, taking the step forward to begin mounting.

But Draco let go and stepped far enough out of the way that the abraxan shied away. "Good," said Draco, "Your turn."

Harry rolled his eyes, but copied Draco's earlier actions, quickly getting the winged horse to stand still, and stay close long enough for Harry to climb up.

Draco nodded, and stopped hanging close enough to catch him if he'd tumbled. He went to catch and mount his own again.

"Now what?" said Harry when Draco returned.

Draco shrugged, "convince it that it would rather fly than walk?"

"Yes, but how?" said Harry.

Draco shrugged and leaned, changing how his knees were positioned, his abraxan shifted then cantered away and jumped into the air. By the time Draco had circled around and landed again, Harry had gotten his mount to wander around, and even trot a few steps.

After Draco landed they played tag for a little while, then Draco's flew again for another couple circles and a figure eight.

Then he landed again.

"I still can't get mine to fly," said Harry, "What am I doing wrong?"

"Never mind that," said Draco, "You've gotten on, and gotten it to walk in any direction you want, what are you doing right?"

"Huh," said Harry, "Hmm."

Draco nodded and flew away again.

Harry made some circles and some figure-eights of his own.

Draco returned, "Well?"

"What's this one's name?"

"Mortimer," said Draco.

"Why?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, Mortimer," said Harry, "Do you want to fly today?"

"No, not really," said Draco.

Harry sent him a death glare, which only seemed to amuse Draco.

Harry turned Mortimer to aim him right at Draco, and tried to kick him into at least a trot. Mortimer seemed to appreciate the idea and complied with an unusual alacrity.

Do abraxans have a game involving ramming each other? Because he's actually galloping … no, he was actually going to take off.

Merlin, finally!

.

They flew for another hour and a half, at which point Draco said the abraxans had had enough exercise, and must be permitted to rest. So they got out their brooms instead and played a game Draco taught him involving one snitch and one bludger. And each of them in a beater's glove and a seeker's glove, and armed with a beater's bat.

Harry suspected that it was actually a somewhat standard beater practice skirmish, but modified for playing alone, and now modified again for playing with Harry.

Which was at once, both amusing, and impressive, and sad.

.

That night, Harry dreamed of getting propositioned by a version of Piers Polkis, as mean (and big)(and ugly) as Flint, and as foul mouthed as Pansy, and … but right when it was about to get ugly it turned into a quidditch game and he and Harry just happened to be beaters and were permitted by the rules to have a beater's beat out, which Harry won handily, mostly by being … more determined and impossible to make dizzy on a broom, or at least not in his own dream, thank you very much.

.

He woke up both triumphant but still incredibly angry to find Draco staring at him and Nim purring.

.

"Bad dream?" said Draco.

"Kind of horrible," said Harry, "Kind of awesome."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Abraxans?"

"Not exactly."

Draco rolled his eyes, "have you ever been confidently high status before?"

"What?"

"Never-mind," said Draco, "I recommend more time with the abraxans, until the dreams go away."

Harry stared at him, "What?"

Draco stared back, "Imagine if my father died tomorrow."

Harry blinked, "What is the purpose of this hypothetical?"

"Do you think I couldn't step into his shoes if I had to?"

"Not … with 100% efficiency," said Harry, "and I suspect there are policies that you'd change, but yeah, I guess you would."

Draco nodded, "Even though that would mean needing to tell Mr. Goyle and Pansy's parents what to do?"

Harry suppressed a shiver, "Yeah, I suppose that is involved."

Draco nodded, "Buying things and hiring people, isn't the only time or way you'll need to tell people what to do, you also shouldn't restrict yourself only to telling bullies to get lost, half the time you don't even do that, you just attack, and let them get the hint or not, which a) is technically illegal, and b) more likely to get them into angry self-defence mode, rather than actually backing off, and c) there are bets going around how long until you try it on hufflepuffs instead of slytherins, and get your arse handed to you, not because they are better than you, but because hufflepuffs unlike slytherins and ravenclaws, are too stupid to run away, and are efficient about swarming when necessary."

"Um?" said Harry.

They stared at each other.

"Never-mind," said Draco, "I still prescribe more practice giving orders to abraxans."

Nim sat up and nodded.

"No," said Harry, "wait a minute, and let me think about what you just said."

"What about it?"

"We are about Peace and Harmony. Ergo, we try to harm no one, if possible. Don't touch me."

Draco's eyes went wide, "Yǐngzi shān xuékē?"

That was passable Chinese, even if I don't know those words. Harry shrugged, "Oh, is there a mage version of The Discipline?"

Draco shrugged, "Isn't there only one Discipline? Just … they only teach you what you're ready for, and if three eighths of it are only on one side of the statute of secrecy?"

That made way too much sense.

.

Yule

Tracy stepped out of the floo and stepped to the side to let any others exit the floo after her. Thankful again that the Malfoy's manor provided a full length mirror right there which let her verify her ball dress had made it through the flames intact.

With a precisely minimal flounce she adjusted the fall of several pleats and stepped closer for a more thorough inspection. After two specks of soot were flicked away, and she was acceptable. She turned toward the corridor and the nearer ballroom.

If she wasn't yet allowed to the Greengrass ball, because children weren't, it was more of an apothecary's business conference anyway; She'd just have to make do with meeting her friends here.

Ah, Blaise was already here talking to Rebekah's brother, and Astoria, so where was … Oh, Daphne was hiding behind a punch glass already. Had she had another row with her parents? Or more likely not had a row with them, and was shunning them, and who knows who else, for the duration.

But who was she observing from behind her punch glass? From the angle of her head, a dancer and not one of the adults. Tracy moved nearer until Daphne looked up and moved her goblet down to elbow height, while smiling, "Hi Tracy, glad you could make it."

"There was no way I was missing this," said Tracy, "Is there any new gossip or new guests?"

"Do you recognise the bitch dancing with Rebekah?"

"Rebekah doesn't …" Tracy stopped when she found the pair, "Looks like Narcissa's family … Those aren't dancing slippers."

"Can't tell if they're real or imitation dragon, but they're definitely built like duelling boots," said Daphne, "When I was tiny, Mom used to complain about Narcissa wearing duelling boots to balls. But that was years ago."

"I don't think I've seen a woman in duelling boots outside the newspaper for the duelling circuit," said Tracy, "Oh, and the write up on Bellatrix Lestrange for her escape attempt and obituary. And that is not Bellatrix."

"Yeah, way too small, hair's too straight, eyes are too light, I didn't think Bellatrix had any children?"

"Not that I heard of, and she didn't plead her womb to get a few months delay on her sentence, so if she has kids, they would have to be one year below us or above."

"Right, so some other relative, or just a look alike," said Daphne, "anyway, this dance is ending."

"Oh," said Tracy, "I get it. I'm going to go dance with him."

"Him who?" said Daphne.

"Potter," said Tracy.

"What? Oh!" said Daphne, "What's he doing here?"

But Tracy was out of polite shouting range. That's what I intend to find out, she thought, And in that getup?

.

"Hello Potter."

"Hello Tracy, Happy Yule," said Potter.

"And the light of the returning sun brighten your life," said Tracy.

Potter smiled with slightly glazed eyes, as if he hadn't heard that phrasing yet, or maybe had heard enough similar that he had to process if the differences signified anything. "Thanks," he said, and glanced over her, and saw where her hands were. His eyes lit up, and he lifted his own hands from his sides, "would you care for a dance?"

"Yes, Please," she said.

They made their way onto the floor.

.

"So …" said Tracy, "You let Draco do your hair."

"Several times," Potter rolled his eyes, "Pretty obvious, huh?" but his smile went from ballroom-cheerful to warm.

Tracy hadn't seen a smile that genuine since Astoria was five.

I didn't realise Potter had any emotions besides sullen, wary, greedy, and duty bound.

"How many times?"

"Err, every other night since the train," said Harry, "Every time I woke up in the morning with it several inches longer."

"Enchanted brush?"

Harry shrugged, "maybe just the opposite of last time: it was cut against my permission, it immediately grew in again, then stopped growing."

"Stopped growing altogether?"

"Yeah, until Draco asked permission before touching it."

"And you let him?"

Potter shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because he's been acting weird ever since we chopped up the basilisk."

"Weird how?"

Potter looked away and smiled again.

"You in love with him?"

"No," said Potter, "Don't think so, just, I think he's my friend now, and … he does friendship different than my other friends."

"How do you mean?"

"He doesn't ask what I can do for him, he asks what he can do for me," Potter frowned, "No, well, that's not how my other friends are, that's what I expected him to be, but he's not."

"He very much is mercenary with his relationships," said Tracy, "That's why he has allies not friends."

Potter blinked, "Then what is he trying to pull off? Lull me into a false sense of security?"

"I don't know. But if that's the first idea you think of, you should probably think about why it's the first one."

"Huh?"

"You thought of him as mercenary, and he is, usually, and to most people. Now you've suggested a motive for him to be acting different now. Either there's good reason to suspect that, because of how he's been acting, or because of how he often acts, or because of how you want to act."

Potter wrinkled his nose, "Or because someone else in the house has been acting that way."

"Someone who has authority over Draco?"

"Yes."

"Maybe Draco's act is genuine, and is being allowed, but will get stomped on at the most opportune moment."

"Most opportune moment for someone other than me, you mean."

"Of course," said Tracy.

"Plausible," said Potter.

"Then again," said Tracy, "Maybe the only favour he's planning to ask of you in return is when that order to abandon you comes, that you take him in."

Potter blinked "Quick before he gets disowned? That would actually be a fair payment."

Tracy controlled her features, just what had Draco been doing for Potter. Besides playing with his hair.

She stared into his eyes, and after a few more seconds of thought his eyes returned from staring past her ear and he stared back.

She smiled, he smiled too.

"Daphne's going to be jealous you know."

"Of what?"

"Your hair."

"Oh," said Potter.

"Do you have a lie ready for when she asks what hair product Draco gave you for it?"

Potter shook his head, "Why should I lie?"

"Keeps up the air of mystery, help's along one of Draco's plots against her."

"I'm not sure I want to be helping along plots against anyone," said Harry, "But that isn't quite the same as wishing to break anyone's plots either."

"Ah," said Tracy, "I see your point."

"So … thanks for the warning, I should ask Draco what he'd like me to say."

"So … did he give you any hair product?"

"No, I still had plenty in my trunk, I didn't think to ask," said Harry.

"Ah," said Tracy.

"It's too late now to pretend I didn't bring … I could pretend to run out," said Harry.

"Hmm," said Tracy.

"I could just ask Kinkin," muttered Harry, then he beamed.

"I like it when you smile," said Tracy.

Harry blinked.

"You should do it more often."

Harry frowned, "I think, that when I smile on command, it's not the kind of smile you want to see."

"True," said Tracy, "If I wanted to look at fake smiles, I could conjure a mirror, and make faces at myself."

Harry snickered and tried to meet her eyes, and then burst out laughing.

She tried to make a fake smile, but he was already laughing too hard, and she failed and had to laugh along.

They tried several times to control themselves, then decided they better sit down, and preferably out of the way of the other dancers.

Rebekah came up later and demanded to know how much punch they'd had.

"I haven't had any yet," snapped Tracy, and turned to Harry, "You?"

Harry shook his head, "There was wine for lunch, hours ago."

"Then what?" said Rebekah.

"Tracy told me to smile and then threatened —" and burst into giggles again.

Rebekah stared at him severely, which set him off the rest of the way.

"There," gasped Potter, and pointed, "Miss Gamp can…" but then his eyes met Tracy's and he dissolved again.

"Can what, Potter?" said Rebekah.

"Frown on command," explained Tracy.

Rebekah looked confused, then tried to frown, but smiled instead, then rolled her eyes and wandered away.

"OK," said Potter when he could speak again, "But why is it funny?"

"Because noticing the transition between meta levels tickles," said Tracy, "especially when related to the subconscious mind, the intimacy of the fact that the subconscious tries to communicate its state, and interpret the state of others, and especially the fact that we can and do try to subvert that communication channel for our own plots, and sometimes fail at it miserably."

"Because it tickles," said Potter, "Yes, I suppose. But why does it tickle."

"Because failure to predict, is frightening, but noticing that currently fear is unwarranted tickles."

"Noticing that tickles?" said Potter, "or 'tickle' is noticing that?"

"Oh, Um, good question," said Tracy, "Or is the danger of a bad prediction and the correction that the topic of the current bad prediction isn't technically a present danger, just another dichotomy between meta levels, and therefore one of many cases of tickle."

"I think you just built a circular graph around noticing noticing," said Potter.

"I did," said Tracy, "But does that make it invalid?"

"I don't think I can answer that without an argument with noticing noticing noticing," grinned Potter, "so I'm going to just say it might not be invalid, but it is not simple enough to be helpful."

Tracy opened her mouth to rebut that, but then decided that his statement amounted to a concession of another form. "To you," she said, then sighed, "you're probably right."

"Where's your cat?"

Without looking, Potter pointed across the room and up. "Observing and staying out from underfoot."

Nim sat on the landing where the stairs turned and descended into the ballroom peeking between the balusters. Currently looking right at them.

"Oh," she said, "Hi, Nim."

Nim blinked, then yawned.

OK, then.

"She keeps threatening to come down and ride on my shoulder and I keep explaining that this coat doesn't have room under it to fit the shoulder pads for her claws."

"You could put it on over?"

"I could, but I'm not sure if that would count as showing off the cat, or that I don't just have galleons and galleons to throw away on replacing suits every time my cat wants a dance."

"Do you often dance with your cat?"

Harry shrugged, "timing and balancing while she jumps on or off, is something of a dance all by itself. But no, not to music, I wonder if she'd actually like that. I think she would."

"She's an interesting cat."

"Very," said Harry.

.

After a while Astoria came over and stared at Potter until he offered to dance with her. Blaise arrived almost immediately after and asked Tracy to the floor.

"So," said Blaise, "What's new?"

"Harry lets Draco brush his hair. The Malfoys let their children drink wine on yule at least as early as lunch."

"Straight, watered, or mulled?"

"I didn't ask."

Blaise shrugged, and glanced across the floor.

"What do you have?" said Tracy.

"Potter is wearing a Selwyn supplicant pendant, an active one."

"What's that?"

"White ribbon, silver setting, almost spherical cluster of crystals, usually diamonds for adults, and quartz for children, an adult wearing their old quartz one is showing off that they never lost it or burned out the enchantment."

"Oh, I noticed that," said Tracy, "What's it do?"

"Calls for help," said Blaise, "sends apparition coordinates to the responsible adult, though apparition by coordinates is supposed to be several times more difficult than side-along apparition."

"So … what does it mean that Harry has one?"

"It means two things, that there's someone around with access to the Selwyn grimoire, and that Dumbledore can no longer get away with pretending he's the only party willing be responsible for Potter's safety."

"Oh, that's going to stir things up."

"I know," said Blaise, "I'm looking forward to it."

"Did you notice anything else about Harry?" said Tracy.

"That you're calling him Harry now?" said Blaise.

Tracy shrugged, "That might be more about me."

"About his eyes?" said Blaise.

"Yes, about his eyes," said Tracy.

"New glasses," said Blaise.

"Oh," said Tracy, "Maybe that was it." She craned her neck to check, yep, wide rectangle frames for improved peripheral vision.

"What did you notice?" said Blaise.

"His eyes don't look like he's about to take several steps back and hex you."

"Affectionate?" said Blaise.

"'Less wary' was my first assessment, but yes, crossing the line into affectionate too," said Tracy, "At least intermittently."

"I had noticed he's been getting less resistant of hugs from his muggleborn friend since summer. Well since the lions started carrying him off the field for catching the snitch really. But it's been most pronounced since summer. Rumour says he blames it on that cat training that out of him. But my sense of things says he was already affectionate with his owl, was less resistant to affection from Granger, now he's got another familiar, one who not only accepts affection from him, but welcomes it, and it's taught him to welcome it, but also, more than that, showed him that the owl wasn't a unique case of not being resistant to it. I wonder how standoffish he was before the owl."

"Hmm," said Tracy, "like you used to be."

"Exactly," whispered Blaise, "Do you remember why?"

"No one ever told—" Tracy stopped and stared into Blaise' eyes, then winced and looked away, "Potter too? Damn it."

"It's taken Potter two and a half years to open up this much," said Blaise, "it took me, what, three months?"

"I'd have said six," said Tracy, "But that was … to how you are now, not to how far he is, so …"

"And why is it 'Potter' again, a minute ago it was 'Harry'."

Tracy swallowed, "Because if it's … 'Harry' right now I … I might cry."

"Good point," said Blaise, "Oh Merlin, do you want to sit?"

"Yes," said Tracy, "Or just, I can't see to, why don't we just dance slow, and…"

"And put your head down for as much privacy as you wish," said Blaise.

"Thanks," said Tracy.

.

"Butting in?" said Theo.

"Back off before we both hex you," muttered Blaise over his shoulder.

"That bad?" said Theo, "how can I help?"

"I think we'll be visiting the refreshment table soon, but not sure when," said Blaise.

"You want escort, or just lookout?" said Theo.

"Maybe both," said Blaise.

A pause, "The tables by the entrance have two or three people each, the one by the Yule log is mobbed, the other corner is clear."

"Ah," said Blaise, "thank you. Trace, what do you think."

Tracy sniffed hard and looked up, then let go of Blaise with one hand to dash the tears from her eyes and cheeks. Blaise pulled his head back and stared. Tracy held her head up and still.

"Good enough," said Blaise.

Tracy raised an eyebrow.

"Approaching perfection," said Blaise with the bare minimum dubiousness for her to take him seriously.

"Ah," said Tracy.

They made their way to the least crowded table.

"So what's the topic of the night?" said Theo.

"What is the topic every night?" said Blaise.

"How to take over the world?" said Theo.

"Well yes," said Blaise.

"But tonight?" said Theo.

"The topic is, who's co-opting Harry Potter, in the name of the House of Selwyn."

"There is no House of Selwyn, their last member is in Azkaban."

"Or is he?" said Blaise, "after all Sirius Black escaped."

"And Bellatrix Lestrange," agreed Theo, "but they managed to injure her enough on the way out for the sharks to finish off. Maybe … Macar Selwyn was ahead of them, and got away undetected before the guards started chasing the last two."

"But you'd think they'd have done a thorough audit shortly after Sirius Black got away. And then announced everyone they found missing. Given they wanted everyone to help look for the one, they'd want us looking for all three of them."

.

Albus returned to his office after an excellent night (and morning) off and immediately heard an unfamiliar whirring from one of his cabinets. That did bear some investigation. Many of his devices whirred, so it was possible his ears were still affected by too much fire whisky lemonade, but still, he ought to check.

It didn't take long to isolate the discrepancy, It was one that tracked the state of the wards on Harry Potter's home, the escapement had fallen off leaving the wheels spinning madly. Albus found the missing parts. He found he couldn't get them to mesh without casting a stasis charm over it.

When he took the stasis charm off again, it promptly started wobbling and shaking itself apart again.

Albus sighed and re-transfigured all the gears. It took him several tries before he found a gear ratio that worked and ticked at a safe speed. Then he counted and recounted tooth ratios, did the multiplication and added it to the log. That didn't look right. He did the measurement again, and multiplied by the gear ratio again and got an answer similar enough to prove that something had changed by almost two orders of magnitude.

Fine, good for Harry, had himself a nice family Christmas, had … Yesterday was Yule, not Christmas, Harry wasn't in the muggle world with Lily's relatives, he was still in the wizarding world.

Where was he?

.

Hermione sat up and stared at her pile of Christmas gifts, care packages from her parents, (care packages without sugar were probably high in salt and starch. Though … sometimes for Christmas there was more candy than usual. Maybe more again now that she'd explained that chocolate was considered the ideal treatment for dementor exposure. Also her toothbrush was ready for a change, and a replacement was sure to be in there.)

And a lumpy package from Molly Weasley, and a book from Ron, and a card from Harry.

Really Harry? He'd at least tried last year.

And Ron was at least trying to personalise, for him to be giving her a book instead of candy.

She put that one last, lest it distract her from the rest, then her 'Weasley Jumper', no then Harry's card, then her Weasley Jumper, which left the package from her parents for first. There, nice and logical.

Then she changed her mind and opened her Weasley Jumper first. The tower was chilly, so why not.

It was indeed a jumper. She put it on. The tan didn't quite go with her hair, but … it went better than several things she'd worn over the years.

Next her parents' care package, all the usual suspects, AND dark chocolate. Excellent. One of the few kinds of candy that didn't suffer for not having enough sugar.

Her own hum of pleasure alerted her to the sounds of ripping paper emanating from Fay Dunbar's bed. The others had gone home for the hols. But Fay was definitely enjoying her own presents.

Hermione smiled wider, then reached for the card. It was a nice letter and the hand calligraphy gift card was odd but clearly understandable. Very wizarding world style of quaint. Whatever.

She opened Ron's package there was a book, and two thin packages of candy wands taped to each other to make the book seem thicker. That was more like it.

The book was about the origin of the Ministry of Magic. She couldn't quite tell if it was a kids book, or if it was just that much of an 'ancient legend' to these people. Apparently, like many other ministries of similar age, it was chartered by The Crown after the statute of secrecy had already gone up. Government action too little too late, or just the charter was written after the fact to normalise what was already becoming inevitable.

She got up and greeted Fay, then got ready and went down to breakfast. All the Weasleys crowed over her sweater, except Ron. He definitely smiled to see it, but he looked haunted. When the attention had moved on again, everyone had begun eating he asked, "Did you get a coupon for custom armour from Harry."

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Are you going to get it?"

"I guess, I'm not sure why he thought of it."

Ron looked up, "You do understand that it's worth more than your parents house?"

"What?"

"And I can say that without knowing the first thing about how much your parent's house is worth." Ron turned to stare at her, "If he wanted us to have armour, he should have sold it, and bought us dragon hide."

Hermione stared at him.

"He could have bought dragon hide for my whole family twice for the price of one suit of this."

"Oh," said Hermione, "Oh, I see."

Ron nodded and looked down again.

"Is it really about the money though," said Hermione, "I had the feeling from the letter it was about everyone who'd ever been in the chamber, except me, who only helped via library work."

Ron shrugged, "and Riddle and Lockhart who aren't on Harry's side."

"Well obviously," said Hermione, "So … what are you going to do?"

"The only sensible thing Harry has said about the whole thing: I'm going to put the coupon in my parent's Gringotts vault until I stop growing."

"Huh, that makes sense," said Hermione.

"Though … I might should talk to the leather smith first and verify that the skin will last that long. I think it lasts forever once it's tanned, but that may be based on being worn or oiled regularly or who knows what all."

"Right."

.

{End Chapter 8}