Choosing Family: Difficult Conversations

[sapphirequill]

Chapter list

Previous Chapter

With warmest birthday wishes to Beta Phoenix and belated ones to Severus Snape, here is the next chapter!

Don't get too excited about the prompt update – most of this was written in the summer, and it's unbeta'd, since I didn't think it was fair to ask Phoenix Writing to rush just so I could post on her birthday.

All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour.

Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, Phoenix Writing who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own.

Warnings for this chapter: slight schmaltz, het, and coarse language

Additional notes are available before the prologue.

Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.

Originally posted 10 Jan. '08; Beta'd version posted 22 Jan. '08

---

Difficult Conversations

It began innocuously enough.

A simple "Are you ok, Harry?" in the Great Hall, to which he responded with a shrug. That would have been the end of it if Ron had joined them. Because the redhead had chosen to miss breakfast in favour of a lie in, however, she followed it with an "Is there anything you want to talk about?" He brushed that off as well, claiming that he was simply tired. It was a successful diversion, insofar as she switched to questioning him about his sleeping patterns, nightmares, and "nightmares," differentiating between dreams and visions with a heavy emphasis when referring to the latter and a pointed look around the filling Hall. He tolerated the interrogation for a while, but eventually he snapped at her.

Surprised, she apologized for pushing, though Harry did detect an undertone of "for your own good," and they sat in silence for a while.

"Malfoy was better in Healing, yesterday afternoon," she offered tentatively after a few moments.

Confused and wary, Harry looked up to find her watching him intently.

"Whatever was afflicting him this week, he seems to have recovered from it. His magic was back to normal in Healing. He managed the Bone-Setting spell really well." Hermione was almost able to hide her disappointment when she added, "Fastest she'd seen in years, Madam Pomfrey said."

Relieved that Hermione's reference to Malfoy was motivated by frustration that she'd been trumped academically rather than any knowledge of what Harry was doing, he took pains to assure her that one successful spell did not jeopardize her standing as the head of their year. He was positive she hadn't paid the slightest attention when she nodded absently and continued, "He's very talented, magically." This time, her words were simply a statement of fact, without any rancour at all, but the look didn't waver.

He shrugged noncommittally, hoping she'd drop the subject. He looked away in time to see Cadwallader, the Hufflepuff Chaser, enter the Great Hall with Colin Creevey. They both sat at the Hufflepuff table, though Colin didn't reach for breakfast, so Harry assumed he wouldn't be staying long.

Their relationship, now nearing its first anniversary, had surprised everyone at Hogwarts. Colin was short, slight, and about as unathletic as someone could be, the complete opposite of the big, burly Chaser. It was doubtful if they'd ever have spoken to each other if it hadn't been for the DA, but the Hufflepuff had joined last winter. The entire group had been amused watching their romantic relationship evolve. Harry watched Colin chattering excitedly, not only with his boyfriend but with others at the table.

Hermione is right: the houses shouldn't matter. There was nothing intrinsically different between the students in Hufflepuff and those in Gryffindor – why were Slytherins different? Because of one student who'd attended fifty years ago? That wasn't fair.

Draco was facing a very difficult situation and doing it with courage and dignity – what if he'd come as close to being Sorted into Gryffindor as Harry had into Slytherin? Would the house still have treated him as the pariah he had been for the first five years at Hogwarts? Harry nearly snorted at the image of Ron and Malfoy as dorm-mates on that first night, until he remembered that the blond's Sorting had been one of the fastest he'd ever seen. Harry wasn't sure the hat had even touched Malfoy's head, so a mis-Sorting wasn't likely.

A loud burst of laughter made him focus once again on the Hufflepuff table, and he sighed enviously. The Badgers were accepting of the Lion in their midst, but when Harry tried to imagine the Slytherins or even his own house being as welcoming of him sitting with Malfoy, he couldn't picture it. He was sure that even being told of their utter lack of choice in their situation would not reconcile their housemates. In all likelihood, Harry realized, he would lose people he considered friends because he'd chosen to participate in the bonding; eventually, he would have to accept that.

Colin got up to move to the Gryffindor table, and Harry turned so that it wouldn't be apparent that he'd been watching the Hufflepuffs. Doing so, he discovered Hermione watching him. Again. Still? She'd been doing that a lot this morning, and it was making him very uncomfortable.

She didn't say anything, though, just gave him an encouraging smile and reached out to squeeze his arm gently. Before Harry had a chance to ask what that meant, Colin had arrived at the Gryffindor table, looking around warily before sitting across from Harry. Colin was looking for Ron, Harry knew, and was relieved to find that he wasn't there – relations between the two were very strained and had been for months.

Shortly before Hallowe'en last year, before Ron and Hermione had admitted how they felt about each other, Ron and Lavender had been assigned as partners on a class project. By the end of it, they had begun dating, much to the discomfort of many in Gryffindor tower, for they were not the most discreet of couples. Colin had taken photos of the two in somewhat compromising positions in very public places, and one rather revealing photo had somehow been included in the Daily Prophet as part of an article on student life at Hogwarts. It had spun into Harry's yearly press scandal: half of the wizarding world had claimed to be appalled at the laxity of supervision and control the staff had over the students under Dumbledore's management and had clamoured to have a more conservative administration implemented. That had been enough to give Harry nightmares featuring Umbridge's return for a month straight.

The other half of the population had latched onto the fact that the couple in question were in Harry's year and house, that Ron was, in fact Harry Potter's best friend. The amount of mail the two of them had received on the subject had been astounding, and little had been positive. Those who had thought they were being supportive simply made things worse with their suggestions of ways in which Ron could debauch the Boy Who Lived further. The vast majority, however, had been haranguing and vitriolic, and no letter had been more so than the one sent by Ron's own mother.

Molly Weasley had been horrified, and her subsequent Howler had become legendary. It had laid out, in great detail, the many ways in which she felt Ron's behaviour had been inappropriate, with great emphasis on Ron's lack of propriety and lack of respect for his partner. Lavender, on the other hand, had been very carefully not mentioned, and the omission was all the more damning. The humiliation proved to be too much for her, and she broke it off with Ron shortly thereafter. Ron, however illogically, blamed Colin. After Christmas, once Ron and Hermione were officially a couple, he'd learned quickly that mentioning that particular grudge was guaranteed to vex Hermione, and his anger might have lessened, if Colin hadn't begun his relationship with Cadwallader at about that time. Colin was dating the enemy. It meant that Colin was very ill at ease when Ron was around.

Since he wasn't, Colin sat across from Harry and Hermione, and the remainder of breakfast was filled with his chatter.

When they were finished, Harry grabbed some fruit and a hastily thrown together sandwich to bring up to Ron, and the three of them made their way back to the tower together. Once there, Colin scampered up to the dorms – since the fourth floor, Hermione had been alternating between detailing for him the differences between preparing for O.W.L.s and preparing for N.E.W.T.s and grilling him on how traumatic he found revealing his sexual orientation to his family and friends to be, so Harry didn't blame him for making a quick escape. Ron was sitting on one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and they made their way over to him.

"I don't know how you do it," Ron shuddered, jerking his head toward the stairs.

"Ron!" She looked at Harry, which he didn't think was fair, since he hadn't said anything and had, in fact, talked with Colin during breakfast and the walk back to the tower.

"I don't care that he's queer, Hermione. It's Colin."

The disdain was dripping from the word as though it were an obscenity. Harry didn't know how long it would be before Ron forgave him, but it would be a while yet. That didn't bode well for his reaction to Malfoy. Draco. He had to start remembering to think of him as Draco.

Harry handed Ron his makeshift breakfast, which distracted him, and Hermione, thankfully, decided not to pursue the matter.

By mid-morning, most of the Gryffindors were gathered in the common room, torn between hoping the unpleasant weather would continue – by the end of the season, the Cup standings were not likely to be so far apart that they could not benefit from a close match with a low total score – and wishing the sky would clear, as they would be sitting in the stands for the match.

Most of the upper years had neglected their homework because of the Hogsmeade visit the previous weekend and were taking the opportunity to work on the assignments due at the end of term. Ron was looking for someone to help him pass the time with a game of chess or even Exploding Snap and was frustrated to find everyone otherwise occupied, Harry and Hermione among them. Harry was researching his ingredients for the Animāre potion, while Hermione was looking up each of the Significant Magical Figures on the list of potential topics for the Charms essay, in case she needed to select an alternate. Harry was positive that no one else in the class would have chosen Flamel, who had lived five times longer than the average wizard and accomplished enough for ten, but she was unconvinced.

Ron flopped onto the couch next to his girlfriend, crumpling the edges of her papers as he did, which earned him an exasperated look and a swat to the thigh, so he shifted enough that she could rescue her work. When he realized what she was doing, he rolled his eyes – behind her back, of course – before asking Harry what he was working on.

"Potions," Harry replied, the same answer he'd given each of the three times Ron had asked that question since they'd begun their homework.

"Still?" he asked incredulously. "How much work can Snape have assigned? Most of it's practical work, and that needs to be done in the lab!"

"Hate to say it, but I think Ron's right, Hermione," Seamus inserted as he approached. "I don't see how you can be learning anything when you're stuck working with the Slytherins – I know! 'Not Evil.'– but it can't be conducive to the learning process. Far too much bickering, I'd think."

Ron looked puzzled, so Seamus explained. "Dean's been complaining about it all week. Told me Snape's got 'em paired up for a project through the end of term – each Gryff with a Slyth." He shrugged. "Can't be much fun is all I'm saying. Can I borrow your copy of Achievements in Charming, Hermione? It'll save me from having to go up to the dorm." She handed it to him with an exasperated look that had nothing to do with begrudging him the loan of the book and everything to do with his volunteering information they would have preferred to keep from Ron.

"Thanks, Gorgeous," he called out with an unrepentant wink as he returned to his section of the floor, which was delineated by piles of papers and books.

"Who'd you get stuck with?" Ron asked, looking at them in turn.

"I was partnered," Hermione very obviously stressed the verb, "with Pansy."

Harry decided to avoid the verb altogether. "Malfoy."

Ron wrinkled his nose, and Harry could tell that it was only due to great self-control that he refrained from gagging. It was a restrained reaction, for Ron, but Harry suspected that Hermione would not think it was restrained enough, and he was right.

"Everything Slytherin is not evil, Ron," Hermione scolded. Much like her S.P.E.W. crusade during the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione had adopted the Slytherins as her project for the year, with marginally more success.

"I didn't say that. But you're better off not taking the class if you ask me. The twins found an intensive course that took them though the N.E.W.T.-level Potions in less than a month. Got them though their examination, and they've managed alright."

"Ron! Knowing the theory is a very important part of N.E.W.T. Potions! Without understanding, a brewer is unable to adapt or correct a brew, and it's altogether too easy to accidentally poison someone. And, incidentally, the twins didn't manage N.E.W.T. Potions in less than a month; they had to pass a theoretical examination before they were allowed to step into the lab and brew. Your decision not to continue with Potions was fine because it was your decision, but it's equally okay if Harry likes it. Tastes change! He's going to like things – people, even – that you and I don't, and friends don't berate each other or force each other to choose."

Ron stared at her as though she were some sort of strange specimen Hagrid had introduced in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Right, then," he replied carefully and changed the topic.

Fortunately, he chose to speculate about the upcoming match in a sufficiently loud voice that it caught the attention of a number of their housemates, and a lively discussion ensued. It allowed Harry to withdraw from the conversation and into his own thoughts.

What on earth did Hermione mean by that? Harry realized he'd been spending far too much time with Slytherins: he was looking for multiple meanings in everything – even his friends' words. It was probably nothing more than Ron doing something that was guaranteed to set Hermione off, and Hermione taking him to task for it. He realized that Ron and Hermione had been sniping a lot lately, even for them, and he wondered if the pressure they were feeling from his family was too much.

She'd had another letter from Mrs. Weasley today, which she'd claimed had been more details about her bridesmaid duties in Bill and Fleur's wedding. Had there been more comments about her and Ron included as well? The constant teasing could be forcing them to baulk in the face of expectation. If that were the case, he hoped the holidays at the Burrow wouldn't be the end of the relationship. At that thought, Harry froze. Hermione had been making comments about Malfoy all morning and watching closely for Harry's reaction to them. What if she had been looking for a replacement for Ron, and was considering a Slytherin? She'd be just as curious as Harry was about how her friends would accept a Slytherin in their midst.

If he was correct, he hoped it wasn't Mal-Draco she was interested in. With the amount of time he and Harry would have to spend together, she'd have ample opportunity to discover things that Harry really didn't want her to find out just yet.

He tried to think of any other possible candidates and had nearly settled on Theo Nott, who was in his CATS: DA class and not a complete prat, when he realized that it was far more likely that she'd caught something Harry had done or said, and she was trying to make sense of it. If her working hypothesis had already linked him to the Slytherins, Draco particularly, he was in trouble. He had no idea what she knew or suspected or what to say to throw her off, and he was terrified that he'd let something slip. Remus had once called her the "brightest witch of her age", and she'd only gotten smarter in the years since. Once she suspected something, there was no way to derail her quest for information.

Suddenly feeling trapped, Harry decided to head over to the pitch and see if Malfoy had also arrived early. If he had, they might be able to get their conversation out of the way before the match started. Harry couldn't tell his friends that, of course, so he announced that he needed to go to the library for an additional text. Perhaps, too, if he weren't there encouraging her to study, Ron and Hermione could enjoy some time alone as a couple.

Ron stared at him incredulously. "But, Harry! What about the Match?"

"I'll ... catch you up." If he didn't make it, he could always use the "Snape assigned a detention" excuse.

"What?"

As he returned Hermione's text to her, Seamus snorted. "Why does it matter? There'll be no Seeker of consequence on the pitch today."

Ron bristled.

"Ron–" Not wanting to hear Hermione defend Malfoy yet again, particularly not in a discussion of the only subject about which she remained happily ignorant, Harry interrupted, "He's right, Ron. I mean, there's always an element of chance, but in terms of skill, Malfoy's the only real competition."

Ron didn't care for that, but since he himself wasn't a Seeker, and historical statistics supported Harry and Seamus, there wasn't much he could say to counter that, so he conceded the argument, quickly if not exactly gracefully.

Harry stayed long enough to assure himself that Ron hadn't been offended, then retreated to the dorm room, moving as quickly as he could without suspicion. Unfortunately, once there, he found the room occupied. Dean and Ginny – Gryffindor's most notorious on-again, off-again couple – were on-again and looking for privacy themselves. As awkward as he felt intruding on them, he couldn't bear the thought of immediately returning downstairs.

He apologized for interrupting, and with his back to the couple, rummaged in his trunk as long as he dared. When he couldn't stall any longer, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and his Omnioculars and stuffed them in his knapsack.

"Did you know that Professor Lupin is here? Or was, anyway."

He looked up and was relieved to see that they were now sitting on Dean's bed, with hair and clothing returned to some semblance of order. "I knew he would be here today, but I haven't seen him."

"He was on the pitch not long ago, if you want to try and catch him."

"I'll do that." He checked to make sure he had everything and stood. "Thanks, Ginny."

Before he'd even left the landing, Ginny was hailing him again. "Hold up, Harry. I'll walk down with you. I need to stop by the library."

As they were passing through the common room, Hermione called his name, and he turned, nervously. "While you're at the library, could you ask Madam Pince if this," she handed him a slip of parchment, "has been returned yet? And if it has, take it out for me? Please? I'd go, but I'm already over my limit, so I really need to finish my Charms research and return those books."

Aware of Ginny next to him watching expectantly, Harry took the parchment. "Sure, Hermione."

He knew better than to think that would be the end of it, but he waited in vain for Ginny to call him on his duplicity: she spoke only about the upcoming match. Her predictions were interesting and well founded, as were her thoughts on how the match's outcome would affect their own strategies, and Harry knew she'd be an excellent captain next year.

More than half of the wizarding world believed that Ginny and Dean would eventually break it off for good, and Harry and Ginny would finally become a couple, marry, and live happily ever after. In reality, though, his relationship with Ginny had evolved into something that was much closer to that of siblings, particularly after Ron and Hermione started dating. The three were still best friends, but the couple needed time alone, and Harry'd begun spending more time with Ginny almost by default. He could talk to her – not only did she understand his love of Quidditch, his relationship with Ron and Hermione, and what the three of them had been through together, she'd survived her own encounters with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He liked to think they'd have been friends even without the convenience of their separate relationships with Ron.

Like Hermione, Ginny wasn't close to the girls in her dorm, though the tension between the younger girls was primarily the result of never having fully overcome the strain of their first year, rather than the lack of commonality between the Gryffindor girls in Harry's year. Regardless, it meant that, more often than not, Ginny and Hermione turned to each other when they needed female companionship. Since he and Ron were also best mates, double-dating would have been the natural progression, if he and Ginny had any interest in each other whatsoever. Fortunately, Dean, at least, knew that wasn't going to happen.

As they reached the fourth floor, Harry glanced regretfully at the staircase that led to the front entrance and was thus unprepared when Ginny yanked his arm, pulling him into a nearby alcove. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and Harry was struck by the similarity between her and Hermione. He waited, uncomfortably, for the coming lecture.

"I'll take that," she said, plucking the parchment from his fingers, "since you're clearly not interested in being anywhere near the library."

Harry tried to claim he realized he'd be late for his detention with Snape, but she cut him off with a snort and an impatient hand.

"Hermione is right, something's wrong." Harry met her eyes evenly and hoped his nervousness didn't show. "But I'm the girl with six older brothers. Sometimes seven." She said pointedly. Harry felt the ghost of a smile cross his face at the reminder that he had not yet been forgiven for helping Ron intimidate a potential boyfriend or two. He started to reply, but she shook her head and held her hand up again, so he waited silently.

"Is it war-related?"

"Yes."

"Does Remus know?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll leave it for now."

Relieved, Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."

"But you'll owe me." Ginny was not someone to whom you wanted to be indebted, but Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "Several." He winced, but nodded reluctantly.

---

He was more nervous than he'd ever been at a Quidditch match, even his first as Seeker, and he wasn't even playing.

As Gryffindor captain, he was supposed to be watching the teams, analyzing plays, and preparing for the next Gryffindor match, but instead of watching the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams take to the air, Harry was sitting under the bleachers staring at the grass with nervous dread. Fortunately, Remus had agreed to record the match with Harry's Omnioculars.

Though Harry had used his Invisibility Cloak to get under the Slytherin stands, Remus and Snape had warded the area earlier for sight and sound, so once there he could safely take it off.

"Potter."

Harry looked up, somehow unsurprised that Malfoy–Draco–had arrived precisely on time.

"Malfoy. Have a seat."

The Slytherin grimaced slightly but did sit on the grass not far away. They stared at each other silently for a few moments, until Harry's gaze dropped to his battered trainers as he tried to figure out how to start.

It was even more uncomfortable than expected, facing the person responsible for their predicament. Harry knew that wasn't fair – it was obviously Voldemort's fault and Lucius Malfoy's – but Mal–Draco had chosen Harry.

"I'm sorry about Potions," he blurted awkwardly, "after, I mean." He didn't know how to explain what had caused him to behave that ways, so he finally added, "It's not you, it's me." Draco accepted his apology with a silent nod, but he didn't smile at all. Harry didn't know if he didn't get the joke – it could be a Muggle thing, after all – if he was too nervous to laugh, or if he just didn't think it was funny.

The bond was supposed to identify suitable candidates, but Harry failed to see how he could possibly qualify. Whether Draco knew it (as in the case of his rude behaviour in Potions) or not (he wasn't going to think about The Dream), Harry'd already failed Draco – multiple times! – and not just Draco. His participation in last year's fight at Azkaban may not have been common knowledge, but his being duped in Fifth year was – at least in Malfoy's circles. Fidelitās Dominō was supposed to intuit suitability. The literature had suggested that it could somehow read thoughts or emotions. How could he be considered an acceptable candidate?

"Why me?" The question was asked almost before he'd even thought it.

"Please, Potter, you wouldn't eat a pet rabbit. You're not going to drain my magic on a petty whim; if you must, it won't be done frivolously or selfishly. Your membership in the Heroes of the World Club would be revoked."

Harry took a deep breath.

"If this is going to work, we're going to need to lay down some ground rules."

Draco flinched before Harry realized what that sounded like, but he couldn't take it back.

"The first thing is ... we're going to have to be honest with each other – more than either of us is comfortable with, definitely sooner than we'd like." He met the other boy's eyes squarely, hoping he would be able to recognize Harry's sincerity. "I promise to be honest with you, as much as I can." The Slytherin calmed, and Harry knew he was on the right track. "Not all the secrets I'm privy to are mine, but those that are will be yours if you want them. In return–" He paused, trying to phrase his next comment in such a way that it would not set Malfoy off.

"I need you to be equally honest with me. We've spent too much time looking for weaknesses in each other to attack. It'll be too easy to keep doing it, automatically, without realizing how well we've landed each hit." The blond nodded slowly.

Pleased with the lack of argument but even more nervous about what he intended to say next, Harry took a moment to choose his words carefully before he continued. It was all well and good for them to agree that they needed to speak honestly, but actually doing it without blowing up at each other was something entirely different.

It might have made more sense to wait, to learn to deal with each other's constant presence first, but so many aspects of their future relationship would be determined by their interactions during the formation of the bond that Harry did not want to take the risk. If they spoke only of superficial things or acted the parts of amicable strangers, the bond might not give them the chance to change their behaviour afterwards. Besides, if they couldn't overcome their traditional animosity rather than just ignoring it, it would be best to find out now, before they were unequivocally committed.

Harry didn't care, particularly, who spoke first – they'd both have to eventually – but knowing what he did about Slytherin perceptions of fairness and power as well as the similarity between the conversation he'd had with Remus about how best to manage with Draco and the tenets of the Fidelitās Dominō bond, Harry knew that he ought to go first, both as a gesture of goodwill and to help Malfoy feel less powerless. Unfortunately, knowing it needed to be done, even knowing why it needed to be done, didn't make it easier to do.

"I hate all of that. Golden Boy. Hero. The Boy Who Lived." He snorted dismissively. "As if that isn't the lamest title ever." Draco looked taken aback, and Harry nearly laughed. Not because it was funny, exactly, but because it had taken all of three minutes to make the other boy suspect that Harry Potter wasn't who everyone assumed he was.

"I didn't ask for it; I didn't do anything to earn it." The blond was about to speak, but Harry waved off whatever response he might have made. "Nothing that required any sort of skill or training or knowledge. The stuff I did do... People get hurt because of me. Or die. That's not something I'm proud of."

Draco stared at him, steady and silent, for several moments before nodding again, once, startling Harry with the similarity to Snape.

Harry stared back, expectantly. He was willing to go first but Draco would have to take his turn as well. Draco seemed to realize that quickly, but it was several additional moments before he was able to speak.

"I." He stopped, swallowed, and tried again: "I don't like remarks about my mother. This thing," he waved a hand between them, "... last week, her behaviour in public ... that's not her. Normally she's... She's not perfect, but she tries. And she loves me." The last was said quietly, fiercely, as though he might be trying to convince himself.

Harry noticed the glaring lack of any mention of Lucius, and he had his doubts about Narcissa. When he'd seen her in Hogsmeade, her obvious anticipation as she ushered Draco upstairs was far more reminiscent of the fanatical glow he'd noticed when he'd first seen Bellatrix than the elegant woman he'd met at the Quidditch Cup. Regardless of how Draco's mother felt about him before Voldemort's return, she seemed to have decided to prioritize her role as a Death Eater, but Harry refrained from mentioning that. He decided the safest response was Draco's own, and he, too, nodded.

They sat for a moment sharing a silence that was not entirely uncomfortable. Harry was, once again, trying to decide what to say next. He thought about Draco's explanations of why he'd chosen to ask Harry and of his relationship with his parents, and Harry eventually realized what, logically, should follow, to place them on equal footing. He knew he would have to tell Draco eventually – it would certainly come up, especially now that Snape knew almost everything, and he'd told Remus nearly as much. All things considered, he'd rather not have a mass interrogation on the subject, so telling Draco separately was better – but it was just as hard as he'd assumed it would be, trusting Draco Malfoy with things he hadn't even told Ron or Hermione.

"Any opportunity to thwart Voldemort is a good thing, obviously, and it's no secret that your fa–that Lucius is one of his greatest strengths, but the real reason I agreed–" He swallowed, hard. "I don't have the best relationship with the relatives who took me in after my parents died." It looked like the other boy had questions, though he didn't ask them, but he seemed less surprised than Harry would have expected. "We were all happy when I was able to leave for good. I always wished, though, that I'd had someone of my own, some place I belonged. Finding out that I could be adopted was..."What could possibly compare to that feeling? "It was like getting my Hogwarts letter all over again. But it would have been cheating, doing just that, since I didn't know it was possible before." Draco started. Another wizard who found that strange. One of the only benefits of Ron, Hermione, and the others finding out about this would be the chance to discuss his lack of knowledge of the wizarding world customs. "Besides, Malfoy, no matter how shitty you've been to me and my friends, you don't deserve that." Harry grinned at the other boy, hoping his teasing would be recognized for what it was, and was pleased when he received a smile, however tentative, in return.

The silence stretched, and the blond took that to mean that it was his turn to continue.

"I'd like– You can call me 'Draco.'" He snorted humourlessly. "I'm not as impressed by my surname, these days." He looked up, noticed Harry's look of disbelief, and smirked with less malice than usual. "If you think you can handle it. I dare you."

Harry's jaw snapped shut – Draco Malfoy making a request of Harry Potter was nearly as shocking as Snape, even given their extraordinary circumstances, and he tried to smile in return. "I think I can probably manage it. I'm 'Harry,' if you can say it without choking."

Draco simply nodded, but Harry thought he relaxed slightly.

Technically it was Harry's turn to offer information, but he needed to know. "What do you want from this?"

"What in the name of Merlin do you think I–" Raw and exasperated, his voice cracked a little when he cut himself off, dropping his head in his hands.

Harry carefully held onto his own temper, trying very hard not to snap back and wondered how on Earth they would manage for the rest of their lives if they couldn't manage to be civil for twenty minutes.

"I know we're headed for war," Draco finally replied, almost calmly, "but I want to know that if my life is in danger it's not likely to be at the hand of my dominus. I want to be able to conduct myself with some semblance of dignity. I realize that I'll need your permission to have a career, or have a family, or have any sort of a life, at all, really. But you're likely to consider granting it."

"God, Draco, That's not even– Of course I will. I know that all of your options are horrific. I just want– I need to– Do you want this? Me?" Harry knew he wasn't making much sense, but somehow Draco understood what he was asking because, with the barest hint of a smile, he replied, softly but confidently, the words that Harry realized must have been spoken during the Prīncipium:

"I offer myself, child and heir of the House of Malfoy, heir-designate of the House of Black, and my talents to your service. I offer my line, the House of Black, all that we are and all that we have. I make this offer to you, Harry Potter, and yours. Will you accept our tribute and unite our people that we may grow as kindred, in strength and integrity?"

Harry was certain that there was an equally long and elaborate answer that tradition required, but he'd never seen the ceremony written. Deciding that simplicity was best, he simply answered the question that was asked. "I will."

They stared at each other, sharing the solemnity of the moment, and Harry knew that Draco, like himself, was overwhelmed by the gravity and magnitude of what they were about to do. Eventually the silence was broken by the sound of vigorous applause and wild cheering, and both boys started. Their eyes met again, filled with humour and chagrin this time, and they smiled for a moment – the first ever of amusement shared between them – at the idea that the applause had been for them.

---

It wasn't the shortest Quidditch match ever, but it was close. Given the cold, wet day, Ginny didn't think the spectators or the teams playing minded in the slightest. She wrapped her arms around her, hoping to block a bit more of the chill, and felt Dean's arms wrap around her as well, drawing her closer to him. She smiled up at him gratefully, then turned to glare at her brother when he made a production of gagging.

"Don't you have to meet Hermione?"

Knowing that watching the match wasn't one of her favourite pastimes, especially in the chill and damp, Ron and Hermione had agreed that she would study through the match, and they would spend time together afterwards in non-academic pursuits. When they'd reached the bargain, however, they'd both expected that the match would be a much longer one, so it wasn't a surprise when Ron replied with a smirky sort of grin, "I think I have time."

Dean interjected before the siblings could tease each other into a temper, distracting Ron with a comment about the match. It was, normally, a conversation in which Ginny would have happily taken part, but her attention was caught, just then, by Remus, standing near the Slytherin stands, talking to Harry. She wondered how he'd made it past her to the far end of the pitch: she'd been watching for them during the match, and she thought she'd caught a glimpse of her former professor past the Ravenclaw goalpost, but there'd been no sign of Harry.

Whatever Remus was telling Harry was not good: Harry's expression very quickly darkened into worry. He looked up then and wasn't pleased to catch her watching them. Ron, too, seemed to notice her distraction, but she returned to the conversation, before he could call her on it. She turned slightly, hoping to keep Ron's attention away, and was surprised when Dean, his arms still wrapped around her, followed seamlessly. Dividing her attention, she managed to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the Chasers who had been on the field today while watching as Remus handed something very small to Harry, receiving a somewhat larger item in exchange.

As Harry approached, she saw that the item Remus had given him was a pair of Omnioculars, which Ginny thought were the same ones he'd purchased at the World Cup. Harry's hand was covering the logo, so she couldn't tell for certain.

Ron had obviously noticed them as well. "Brilliant, mate! I worried when you didn't show up for the match–I mean, how can you talk tactics with your captain when he hasn't seen the competition play–but watching the match from the other side of the pitch to get a different perspective, see all the plays we don't have a great view of from the Gryffindor stands, and recording it–that's brilliant! Did you get a clear shot of the Ravenclaw goal just before Summerby caught the Snitch? It was too far down the pitch and behind half the house–I couldn't see it clearly. It looked like a standard Porskoff Ploy, but I thought I saw Cadwallader cobbing. The Ravenclaws might have cause to lodge a protest."

Ginny had no idea how Ron missed it –That's a lie; Ron's always been clueless about people – but it was obvious to her that Harry had no idea what Ron was talking about. Given the look of panic that had flashed across his face, and the fact that she'd just seen Remus hand those very same Omnioculars to Harry, she wasn't sure Harry had even known who'd won the match.

She sent Harry a pointed look before interrupting Ron. "Don't start that now. You're supposed to meet Hermione right after the match." Ron looked like he was going to object (and they all knew that it wouldn't matter if Ron were late; Hermione wouldn't be disappointed about extra library time during N.E.W.T.s year), so Ginny added, "Besides, Harry and I need to talk."

"About what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, Ron, you don't ask that at Christmas."

Appeased, Ron loped away without further complaint. Dean had recognized her ploy even without covert glances or pointed looks, and with a quick kiss, he followed her brother. I'm so lucky, she thought and made a mental note to reward her perceptive boyfriend.

Still watching the boys heading up to the castle, she was careful to keep her tone light. "Whatever it is you're dealing with..." Harry stiffened beside her, and she paused, knowing that if she were to press him now, he would shut her out completely. Since whatever he'd gotten himself entangled with now had only just progressed as far as "making Harry an emotional wreck" – hadn't even gotten to "Harry the Hospital Wing patient" – there was no point in forcing him to alienate her early, so she changed her tack. "It won't continue to interfere with your duties as Quidditch captain." There was no hint of question in her tone; it was clearly a warning.

"No," he said, and she was pleased to see that she'd nearly coaxed a grin from him.

"That's another one you owe me. You're racking them up; I hope it's worth it." She layered just a hint of a question in her voice, subtle and easily ignored, but enough to let him know that she was willing to listen if he needed to talk.

"I think it might be," he replied, sounding a bit stunned but sincere. She was disappointed when he didn't elaborate, but not surprised.

Ginny grinned and wound her arm through his as they headed back to the castle. "So, what did I want to talk to you about?"

---

Remus paused as soon as he was within the limits of the spell. Draco was sitting with his feet braced on the grass, his elbows balanced on his knees and his hands buried in his hair.

"Pleased" was not a word that would readily be used to describe his demeanor, and Remus feared that the meeting had not gone as well as Harry had intimated. There was no indication that Draco was aware of Remus's approach, but when he was no more than two feet away, Draco lifted his head, meeting Remus's gaze without any surprise. "It could have been worse. We're neither of us dead, so things definitely could have been worse," he said, waving at Remus to sit down. There was enough of a smile in his voice that Remus was reassured that Draco also felt optimistic about the meeting.

"He's not what I expected." Remus tried to stifle his amusement at the bewilderment in the boy's tone, but he knew he had been unsuccessful when Draco rolled his eyes and shrugged ruefully. Remus was pleased: he'd feared it would take Draco much longer to put aside his preconceptions and react to Harry himself.

Draco summarized their meeting in greater detail than Harry had been able to do in their brief conversation, and from the sounds of it, the encounter had gone as well as could be expected, overwhelmingly so. The only truly surprising revelation was Draco's confession that he'd been eavesdropping in the hospital wing, which, he explained, was what prompted him to be especially careful with his temper. The child was bright enough that he would have figured it out for himself, so Remus was flattered that Draco attributed it to him. Remus also felt great pride that Draco could admit his faults – both to himself and to Remus – and that he could strive so capably, and so successfully, to mend them.

It gave him hope for their future relationship.

"He could take advantage of the power he has over me. He claims that he won't. I think I believe him." Draco looked almost beseechingly at Remus, as though he were hoping for confirmation of his feeling but was fearful that it wouldn't be sincere.

Remus listened attentively to the rest of Draco's recounting, offering this and other assurances when they were requested, but Draco's instincts were accurate, and Remus's remarks were largely just confirmation of that.

Before long, however, Draco announced that he was going to be late to meet his head of house.

"There's been a change of plans, actually. Severus is ... unavailable."

"Is there a problem in Slytherin?" Draco started to stand, clearly intending to see if he could assist.

Remus caught his wrist before the boy moved out of reach. "He was Called."

Draco froze in his half crouch. "What?"

Remus tightened his grip in support before he released it. "I know it's horrible timing, but he's experienced at this. He'll be fine. Fortunately, that horror will be over soon."

Draco sat back down but didn't lose his dumbfounded expression, and Remus realized that he was shocked by more than the unfortunate timing. "You didn't know?"

"Of course I knew."

Remus closed his eyes. "He didn't tell you." Remus didn't bother to be more specific than that; he didn't need to be.

"No," Draco replied bitterly, "he didn't. So, he is the spy. Since Voldemort first returned?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to lie – Draco would eventually find out, and he valued this relationship, however tentative, too much to sacrifice it so casually – but neither did he want to hurt Severus's relationship with the boy. Before he could make the decision, it was taken from him. The pause was too long, and Draco was far from stupid.

"Since his first reign. Nice that he thought so highly of me." Visibly distressed, he stood. His movements were too jerky to be considered pacing, but he was unable to be still. "I went to Severus with my doubts. You can't possibly have any idea how hard that was." He stopped suddenly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Given Remus's own history and his difficulty broaching the subject of his Lycanthropy, he thought he had a better idea than most, but rather than arguing the point, he remained silent, letting Draco vent his frustration. The boy had turned to stand facing away from Remus, who nonetheless noticed the quick swiping motions in front of his eyes. He refrained from mentioning that, too.

"I went to him, and asked, and got in return the most banal, pat answers." He turned, abruptly, so he was facing Remus once again, and he continued in a very challenging tone: "I asked him, once, about the Dark Lord's rhetoric about Muggle-borns, asked why, if it were true, Granger was always at the top of all her classes. Do you know what he did? He looked at me with this damned expression of expectation, like he wanted to know why I wasn't besting her, and said," – with perfect mimicry, he quoted – "'The answer, Draco, is obvious. I believe you will find the answer evident after due consideration of the facts."

Oh, Severus, Remus thought with equal parts affection and rueful resignation. Now, perhaps, Draco had enough experience with the complexities of life to understand your subtlety, but the child had far too little exposure to any influences that were contrary to the path Lucius had set for him.

"I'm Draco fucking Malfoy. That used to mean something. Something powerful even when it wasn't admired. What the fuck happened?"

The question was clearly rhetorical – Draco knew how culpable Lucius Malfoy was, how deranged Voldemort had become – but the next one wasn't:

"Does Potter know?"

Wordlessly, Remus nodded.

"I felt so guilty about accepting when Severus offered to stand as my father in the ritual, knowing that it would mean exposing the Boy Who Lived to a Death Eater." Remus made to warn him about that but Draco waved off his interruption before he had a chance to speak. "I know he hates the title, but it's 'The Boy Who Lived' that I was scared for – Severus has nothing against 'Harry Potter.'"

You're wrong about that or, at least you would have been, only a few months ago, Remus thought as Draco continued his tirade.

"He was always such a model follower. My father laughed when Bellatrix first accused him of being the spy. I wasn't even certain he'd be able to leave entirely, and I expected to have to watch him, just in case, but I was willing to do it because I wanted him there. I spent half of my childhood wishing Severus was my biological father. The only good part of this entire mess was a second chance at a dream I'd given up long ago."

He settled finally, leaning resignedly against the support beam. "Well, if nothing else, it's a sign that the adoption will go well – clearly he thinks I'm a child still." He let his head fall back against the post, and though the boy did not react, it hit with a force that could not be painless. "I've spent the last few months being betrayed by family or people that I trusted as though they were, and now I can include Severus in that category, too." He scoffed self-deprecatingly. "I felt so special when Severus chose me over the Dark Lord after Lucius didn't. It's much less impressive now."

"That's enough."

Remus stood.

"I'm not belittling the difficulties you're facing, but think about the position Severus has been in, what he's sacrificed... The danger to your godfather if you had been sent by Lucius to discover if he were indeed the traitor was absolute. His death would have been a blessing. Blaming him for failing to risk safety and sanity, not to mention the most reliable source of information the Order had on the whim of a child, is both short-sighted and selfish." He softened his tone. "He does care about you, Draco. Severus has been confronted with conflicting loyalties many times, more, as a spy, not less, and it was your plight which tipped the scales. I think if you were to pay attention to Severus's words, rather than what you assumed he'd said, you'd find that rather than parroting Lucius Malfoy's bigotry, he was encouraging you to think for yourself."

Draco started to challenge that, but Remus stared him down and knew, exactly, when Draco realized what his godfather had meant: the boy's gaze dropped to the ground even as a blush crept up his neck.

"I see that now," he mumbled.

Remus wanted to reach out to him, to squeeze his shoulder, anything that would ease the awkwardness, but he didn't think the boy was ready for that. In the Malfoy household, Remus knew, physical contact had not been encouraged. Knowing the distaste teenaged boys held for emotional discussions and that Draco had already had an exceptionally long day, Remus decided the best thing to do was change the subject.

"I recorded the match on Harry's Omnioculars; obviously, Severus was unable to do the same for you. Harry said he would be willing to lend you his. If you tell me when you'd be free to watch it, I can pass on the message."

Looking relieved at the introduction of a new topic, he replied, "I should check to see if Uncle Severus left a message for me before he left, but I've the rest of the day free. Thank you."

His expression of gratitude was slightly awkward, but the sincerity was evident, and Remus assured him that no part had been onerous. As they began to make their way out from under the stands, Remus pulled out James's Invisibility Cloak, which Harry had lent him earlier. Guests were occasionally permitted on Hogwarts grounds, but Remus, being a werewolf, would have the purpose of his visit scrutinized far too closely if he were seen by certain people. He could have used a Disillusionment spell, of course, but they were chancy within the castle walls, since numerous Unveiling Traps had been laid to catch intruders.

Remus was remembering the first time he'd seen the Cloak when he was distracted by a sharp intake of breath from slightly behind him.

"Re–Remus?"

"Yes?" He'd stopped, and Remus turned to face him.

"I think..." His eyes rolled back, and he started to slide to the ground. He would have hit if Remus hadn't been there to catch him.

---

Next Chapter