Choosing Family: Forming Bonds

[sapphirequill]

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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.

Not Bad Enough: The Historical Origins of the Unforgivables as well as much of the magical theory I'm using for this story are borrowed without permission from Gateway Girl's absolutely brilliant story Blood Magic. (Seriously, if you've never read it, do. It's long and detailed and gorgeous - one of the top three fics I've ever read.)

Additional notes are available before the prologue.

Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.

Originally posted 6 Feb. '09

---

Forming Bonds

Pain.

As Draco woke up, the first thing that registered was pain. It wasn't intense or sharp, but it was constant and everywhere. Even his eyelids and his toenails hurt. It was overwhelming. It took a few moments before he remembered collapsing, and remembering the information he'd learned from Remus – that was still odd, calling him that – added bitterness and betrayal to his catalogue of pain.

Eventually, he worked up the courage to open his eyes, and he found Remus Lupin sitting next to his bed, watching him, with a glass of water ready at hand.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"You collapsed on the pitch." Obviously. He was going to clarify his question, but Remus shook his head to cut him off, looked around warily, and mouthed silently, "Not until Severus returns."

"He's not back yet?" Draco turned to the window to find that it was dark outside, and his bitterness was softened by concern.

"No, but it's only been a few of hours." Remus squeezed Draco's hand reassuringly. "How are you feeling?"

Draco didn't have to think about his answer. "Sore. It hurts everywhere."

"What sort of pain?"

"The painful kind?" Having been incredibly restrained and given a brief answer rather than subjecting him to a full litany of complaints, Draco was annoyed that his reply was insufficient and didn't feel guilty for being facetious. Remus didn't seem to mind, though, smiling faintly as he elaborated, "Is it sharp, aching, burning...?"

"Aching. Like I played all positions in a two week Quidditch match. Right after letting the other team's Beaters use me for target practice."

Remus looked at him assessingly. "Is it bearable?"

"It's going to have to be," Draco replied stubbornly. If this was related to the next stage of the bonding – and they both know that it very likely was – then pain inhibitors would not only be ineffective, they could also interfere with the process.

Happily, Remus didn't argue, changing the subject entirely instead. "Were you able to follow much of the match from under the stands?"

Draco shook his head, and Remus began distracting him. Unfortunately, they'd had time for little more than a brief recap before Poppy arrived to do tests, and Remus excused himself. Draco assumed that would be the last he'd see of him, and he resigned himself to solitude while he avoided answering the majority of Poppy's questions. He was reasonably certain he wasn't fooling her in the slightest, but the pain was real, so she didn't press him for information as hard as she could have.

Draco was surprised to see Remus return just as she finished. That was nothing compared to Poppy's shock when Draco gave permission for Remus to stay and listen to the results, but she limited her reaction to gaping a bit and didn't say anything about it. "If I couldn't compare the results of these scans to your medical records, I'd say there's nothing wrong with you but a serious case of fatigue. However, since I have them here..." she skimmed the notes in his file "...in addition to indications of physical exhaustion, you also have higher than usual magic levels and your magical signature has mutated. It doesn't appear to be dangerous or malignant; as I said, without previous scans I would assume that it was normal. But magical signatures don't arbitrarily change, and I can't find evidence of a cause." Poppy paused as though she expected Draco to fill an explanation, but he remained silent.

She put away her wand and said, more brusquely than usual, "I'd like Professor Snape and the Headmaster to do scans of their own. You'll have to stay here until then."

Draco thought about protesting but didn't want to be restricted to his room as an alternative. The Head Boy and Girl shared a two-bedroom suite with a small common room intended for prefect meetings, tutoring sessions, and other related responsibilities. He'd made it clear to his friends early in the term that the suite wasn't for socializing, phrasing it as a warning about eavesdropping Gryffindors. They knew how much he valued his privacy and that if he was in the mood for company, he'd join them in the Slytherin common room, so they rarely disturbed him there unless it was for serious house business. Granger knew better than to interrupt unless it was an emergency.

If he were in his room, therefore, privacy would be guaranteed but so would boredom. Since the special project he'd been working on since the beginning of term had been completed, he'd be left with only his class assignments, and he wasn't sure how long his eyes would focus if he tried to read. Here, at least, there was Remus, at least for the moment, and the chance of overhearing something useful.

When Poppy realized that the idea of leaving the hospital wing wasn't enough to entice him to reveal more, she left the room, warning him that dinner would be arriving shortly and that he was expected to eat everything on his plate.

When the food arrived, Draco was surprised to see two servings, though Remus was not. While they ate, Remus told Draco of his history with Poppy, how she'd looked after him as a boy, one of the few who knew of his condition when he was a student at Hogwarts, and almost the only one who treated him well despite that knowledge, at least until his roommates discovered his condition.

Draco was eager to hear more – he could tell that Remus was holding back interesting details – but the strain of his body adapting to the bond was taking its toll, and by the time Draco had finished eating he could barely keep his eyes open. He dozed for a while but was unable to fall completely under, so he drifted in and out of consciousness where boredom vied with pain, and neither was preferred.

Each time Draco woke, he found Remus watching over him. After ascertaining if Draco needed anything, he'd settle back into his book. It made Draco a bit uncomfortable but mostly guilty for depriving him of sleep when there was nothing to be done but to let his body adjust to the changes the bond was making to it. Before Hogwarts, it was the house-elves who looked in on him when he was ill, if it was serious enough to warrant it. It was strange having a person there, hovering. A bit embarrassing. And kind of comforting.

---

Though he was careful not to show it, it was with great relief that Severus returned to Hogwarts in the cold, pale light of dawn.

Walking across the grounds, he wished for a Portkey to his rooms, knowing full well that even if it were possible, the risk would be too great. Voldemort could easily steal it or follow him, and, if it were discovered, simply having it without informing the Dark Lord would be enough to have him killed.

The walk seemed endless, trapping him with his own thoughts for far too long. Tonight's meeting had been particularly difficult, not physically this time – at least, no more than usual – but in light of the entertainment offered. The effort he had to exert to keep Voldemort and the Death Eaters from knowing exactly how affected he still was after all these years was immense but necessary: such a weakness would not go unexploited.

To make matters worse, Voldemort had been particularly capricious tonight, which never boded well for anyone.

Not for Severus, whose mind, as Potter would say, had been 'attacked' with every mercurial shift of mood. The Dark Lord did not like being forced to admit that others surpassed him in his talents, and the most expedient way to avoid the necessity of that was to destroy anyone he suspected of doing so. If he were to discover Snape could successfully keep secrets from him, Voldemort would be certain that something was being hidden. Snape had to choose memories, not all of them good or safe, behind which to hide the dangerous thoughts.

Not for the Death Eaters generally, who were subjected to punishing curses, including the ever-popular Cruciatus, alternating with taunts of a secret, one that would bring them the victory they had been anticipating, and praise for the unnamed follower who had conceived of the plan. Snape noticed several Death Eaters trying to hide looks of smug satisfaction and wondered what else the Dark Lord had brewing that they might think that their plans might be favoured.

Most certainly not for the Muggle-born boy or his Muggle family – a sister and two parents – who were brought in as the evening's entertainment. It was not a common activity, but Voldemort was in a particularly jovial and sadistic mood, and periodically he did have to appease his more bloodthirsty followers. Fortunately, Severus had established himself early on as finding this sort of activity distasteful and common – and since he could create poisons and other brews that the others could not, the Dark Lord permitted his peculiarities.

Rumours of a voyeurism fetish were encouraged, since it both complemented his duties as spy and enabled him some form of participation in torture sessions. The latter was necessary, since participation was not optional. Severus suspected it was required to discourage any temptation to betray other followers in exchange for witness testimony. Oh, it was couched in terms of dedication to the cause when Death Eaters were out of mind with drink, and encouraged with pain if necessary, but by the time a follower had earned the Mark, he was no longer innocent.

Only those who had participated, participated enthusiastically, had the honour of being given the Mark, making Ministry plants near to impossible. Death Eaters willing to turn traitor were even rarer. That was, in large part, why the Ministry had such difficulty after the first Voldemort rising and why the wizarding world had such suspicion of all with the Mark, even those who'd legitimately claimed Imperius for the actual branding.

That suspicion, Severus knew first hand, since even with Dumbledore's testimony that he had been spying for the Order he was still watched by Ministry and citizen alike. Too many tales had been told and proven by Death Eaters trying to escape Azkaban.

As much as he would have preferred to retreat to the solace of his own rooms, he made his way to the headmaster's office, needing to report to Dumbledore first, even if that report would be, for the most part, thoroughly useless.

There had been no discussion of strategies or targets, and there had been little to disclose the location of the gathering: it was a large, sparsely decorated ballroom that Snape did not recognize, and there were no windows. It could easily have been a dungeon or a cave transformed for the evening.

There was only one shard of information that was of any use, but it was enough to warrant the climb: he had learned conclusively that there was a traitor in the Order.

Lucius Malfoy had had access to the Book of Students while governor of the school. Even after he'd been arrested in the Department of Mysteries, Fudge had thought secrecy more important and refused to take precautions with the safety of potential students – even the Muggle-borns who were most vulnerable and most in danger. The Order did what it could, and once Amelia Bones assumed the title of Minister, things were better, but there were still too many of Fudge's people in the Ministry to know whom they could trust. As a result, the primary responsibility was still assumed by the Order.

A few had been chosen to set up protections, and Severus had been one of them. He'd actually worked on the house of the family being tortured this evening. To say that Severus had liked the boy was a bit strong, but he'd been certain the child would have been Sorted into Slytherin.

The little girl and her parents were dead. The boy, age seven, had been casting wild magic, trying desperately to save his family and had been constrained several hours ago. Whether he would survive or not was anyone's guess. Severus had hoped to be able to see to the child afterward, to find out how he had been captured, but Gibbon was tasked with seeing to him, and Snape was asked to remain behind with Lucius, Bellatrix, and Voldemort when the others were dismissed.

The Dark Lord asked about Draco: his health, his state of mind. He must have thought he was being subtle but even if Severus hadn't known what was going on, it would have been obvious that he was probing for something. Severus's answers were somewhat misleading, but they were supported by the memories that Severus pushed forward. Bellatrix was disgruntled, but the Dark Lord was pleased. He handed Snape a package for Draco: a gift, he said, to enable him to make the most of his position. Knowing he was meant to assume the Dark Lord was referring to Draco having been named Head Boy, Severus took it without hesitation and showing no nervousness, though whatever it contained couldn't be good.

He left that last out of his report: Dumbledore would not be able to resist investigating, and Severus would not risk being exposed this close to the end because of the older man's need to meddle.

His account finished, he stood wearily to return to his rooms, only to sit back down as Dumbledore told him about Draco.

---

"What?"

Draco woke with a start, and his attention was immediately drawn to voices in the hall.

"I'm sorry–"

"Why would you–"

"He asked, Severus, and I wasn't going to lie to him."

"My life depends– " The tone was so cold that Draco nearly shivered.

"Don't you think I know that?" Remus interrupted. "He deserved to be told, and you should have been the one to do it. Did you think he wouldn't figure it out? He's far too intelligent for that to–"

"After the bonding. I intended to tell him then."

After I was unequivocally on Potter's side, Draco understood. The delay was indicative of a lack of trust. Draco had known that, even as much as he'd hoped it wasn't true, but hearing it confirmed, a bit of his heart–only recently mended–broke again.

They were close now, possibly in the doorway. Careful to make it look like he were shifting in his sleep, he curled up a bit, as though shielding himself physically could protect himself from emotional pain and listened to their whispered argument.

"Did he and Potter have a chance to talk?" The change of subject was abrupt and lacking a Slytherin's usual finesse.

"They did– I spoke briefly with Harry, and with Draco a bit more in depth – both claim it went well. Parts of this may be good for them, eventually." Severus snorted. "When I told Harry that Draco was here, he wanted to stay with him."

Draco nearly started at that. Why in the name of Merlin would Potter want to stay with him in the hospital wing? After a few moment's reflection of Potter's reputation and his reaction to Diggory's death, Draco assumed it was his guilt complex.

"You told him?" Snape's response was heavy with disapproval.

Remus's sigh was audible. "Harry had offered to lend Draco his Omnioculars, and Draco was clearly in no shape to borrow them. I didn't want to risk Harry getting impatient and looking for Draco, so I went and found him."

"You left Draco alone?"

"Really, Severus, what do you think of me? Of course I didn't leave him alone. Poppy was here, running tests. Did you think I could somehow smuggle Draco into the hospital wing without her noticing?" There was a pause before Remus continued, his voice full of concern. "Your wits are usually sharper than this. When did you last sleep? You look exhausted."

Severus ignored the question. "Why Poppy; why not Albus?"

"Albus wasn't available, and I trust Poppy; even if she weren't bound by patient confidentiality and an honourable witch besides, she'd keep quiet because I asked it of her."

"He's right about that, though I don't see how secrecy can be maintained with the two of you whispering so loudly. You might as well be yelling for all the discretion you're showing. Not to mention you've woken up the patient."

Draco didn't know how Poppy knew he was awake, but he knew attempting to fake sleep would draw more attention.

"Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?"

"Better," he answered. 'Strange' would have been a better word, but he didn't want to risk an explanation in front of her, since he didn't know how much she'd been told.

She looked as though she knew that he was holding back and why. "Do you know enough about whatever he's embroiled in to know what he should be feeling?" she asked Remus and Severus. The former nodded, and the latter clearly thought the answer should have been obvious and stared silently. She turned back to Draco. "Can you explain your symptoms to either of them?"

Regretting the need for secrets and hoping they wouldn't damage his relationship with the healer in class, he nodded.

"Fine," she said briskly. "I'll leave, you talk, and when I get back you can tell me what needs healing."

Draco shifted uncomfortably as she crossed back to the door.

"Poppy, wait." Severus glared at the other man, making Draco glad that he wasn't the one to issue the protest. "You know she's trustworthy, Severus," Remus continued mildly.

Draco watched their silent battle of wills in fascination, but he hadn't realized that he was staring until his godfather met his eyes briefly before turning back to Remus. They stared silently for another moment, then Severus nodded.

As Remus began to explain, Poppy picked up her wand and began a series of scanning spells.

Poppy, Draco had to admit, controlled her reaction very well. He assumed that was in part her matter-of-fact personality and because she was used to delivering difficult diagnoses, but Draco would be grateful when explanations were no longer necessary. For his part, Draco found the listening to be less painful than it had been. He found himself more angry than hurt. He was tired of the pitying looks. It was unusual, and he didn't like it.

He was grateful that Potter had agreed to participate, he truly was, but that in itself was humiliating, which did not mix well with his resentment of the entire situation.

It galled him that he'd had to ask– that he'd had to ask Severus to ask. He had been raised to be a leader; he had been trained in the rituals and traditions of the wizarding world; he was far better suited to be dominus.

Potter was a Muggle-raised half-blood whose primary talents seemed to be Quidditch and getting into trouble. Draco was certain that without Granger he wouldn't have survived his years at Hogwarts. He had no idea of the power he wielded, neither with his wand nor in the wizarding world, and no idea how to wield it if he wanted to try.

During the entire meeting on Friday in which they had debated on the relative merits of various particulars of the ritual, it had been increasingly obvious that Potter had little to no interest in the details. He'd let the discussion wash over him, barely following, rarely contributing, and absorbing no understanding of the significance of it. The latter, at least, looked to be due entirely to his lack of interest: gross stupidity was not one of his faults.

None of Draco's housemates would have been so blasé. Not because the ambition that their House was known for guaranteed untrustworthiness – though it did manifest as such often enough to warrant the cliché, and Slytherins quickly learned to be wary – but because there were enough of them from the Old Families that they recognized the solemnity of blood magic and were wary when it was used.

The ritual was centuries old, created in a time when a wealth of information could be conveyed – both to those observing and the parties involved – through the symbols, colours, and other details that were chosen. Harry, on the other hand, had let the victims make those choices, taking for granted that they would not take advantage of him. He was lucky that Draco was determined enough to make this work and that he was – possibly for the first and only time of his entire life – being honest and fair.

No doubt what Potter would get out of this – it was obvious that Potter needed him, even if he didn't know it.

---

The Gryffindors' Quidditch practice on Sunday morning was less intense than their last one – for which the team was grateful – and Harry and Ron returned to the dorm afterwards with time before lunch.

After a quick glance at Hermione to make sure she was occupied and not likely to castigate him for abandoning her, Ron headed for the group of lower years who were absorbed with WWW merchandise. Harry looked a little more closely and noticed that, while she was tutoring Neville, she also had one eye on the group. Harry chose not to join Ron – he didn't want his presence there to be the catalyst for Hermione to intervene – and hoping to avoid an interrogation like yesterday's, he didn't want to join Hermione, but that left Harry was a bit uncertain what to do with himself. It felt rather like fifth year, when he was ostracized as an attention-seeking alarmist.

He hesitated too long, however, and Hermione had hailed him before he'd chosen an alternative. Since it would look strange otherwise, he joined her and Neville. They studied amicably in relative silence, but not for long. When Harry noticed Hermione looked like she was going to start asking questions, he distracted her with questions about the possibility of a mixed luck hex.

She looked at him with an evaluating expression. "Was that what you were researching last week?"

Harry was flustered for a moment, since he hadn't realized she'd noticed, but he took the offered explanation and shrugged.

"I wondered. I think something like that would be in the Charms and Jinxes – though I don't remember seeing anything in Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes or A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions. Most of the books you were looking at dealt far more with ritual magic; I don't think he'd have had time, even if it was classified there, though maybe you're right – it very well could be Dark."

"Not all ritual magic is Dark," Neville said defensively. Harry looked at him in surprise. The other boy had gained a lot of confidence in the years Harry had known him, but correcting Hermione was not something to be undertaken lightly. Indeed, Hermione looked as though she was going to dispute that, but Neville made his point anyway. "After Vol-demort... disappeared, the Ministry banned a lot of the Old magic – ritual and blood magic, mostly, as they're often used both together, and passed down through the Old Families. It allowed the Ministry to keep suspects in custody while they tried to collect evidence tying them to Death Eater crimes. But it's not all Dark or even illegal."

Neville gestured at Harry. "Your mum's protection was probably both ritual and blood magic. The accepted spells are usually used for adoption or marriage bonds, things of that sort." Through sheer force of will, Harry kept himself from jumping down his throat right then: it really wasn't the time for them to have that discussion. Fortunately, neither of them noticed: Hermione, because she was staring incredulously at Neville, and Neville, because he was shrinking from Hermione. "What?"

"You don't usually volunteer that much information, especially not on a subject that should be covered in History of Magic."

"Gran taught me a lot over the summer. Being seventeen, I needed to be able to take over the wards, if necessary."

Hermione looked like she was going to ask Neville to describe in minute detail every moment of each lesson or to Pensieve the lot, and Neville looked like he'd discovered a new Boggart form, so Harry steered the conversation back to the mixed luck hex. It had after all, worked before.

Hermione promised to look into it but then started asking about the research he'd done. He didn't know what to answer – he didn't want to direct her attention to the books he knew were useful. Before the pause was too long, one of the products that Ron's group was testing exploded. Hermione jumped up to berate her boyfriend.

"Ron! Why didn't you separate the dangerous ones?" she asked, putting out the small fire.

"That's NEVER happened before!" Ron's shock sounded real, and Hermione used that as an excuse to confiscate the WWW merchandise until it could be taken outside.

Focused on that, she missed Neville putting his wand away with a slight flush. It deepened when he noticed Harry gaping at him, but they didn't have a chance to speak as Hermione and a bewildered and slightly sullen Ron joined them at the table, and conversation shifted, for which Harry was grateful.

---

Once Poppy had been made aware of the situation and had performed her battery of tests, she concurred with their assumption that the collapse had been due to the bond's acceptance of him as vectigal and that there hadn't been any other effects beyond the expected fatigue. Since Draco was adamant that he wouldn't risk pain reducing spells, Poppy returned to her office.

Draco estimated how long he'd been under the stands talking with Potter–Harry and then with Remus. "So I was right," he said.

"There's no conclusive evidence–"

Remus cut off Severus's protest. "We are not having that discussion again. We have no proof otherwise and are uncertain. He's the one with conviction, and he's the one who will have to suffer the consequences. Let him try." Severus nodded, and Draco exhaled gratefully. He was positive his interpretation of the ritual was the correct one, but fighting pain, tension, and exhaustion was taking nearly everything he had. He wasn't certain he'd have been able to stand up to his godfather as well.

"Aside from the pain, have you noticed any other signs of the bond?" Draco could tell just from the extremely casual tone that his godfather was hoping that the answer was no and the pain was a sign that the bond was rejecting him as unsuitable, and gratitude became resentment. Severus may have considered that the best case scenario, but if Draco wasn't going to be bonded to the Dark Lord – and sure as Slytherin, he didn't intend to be – then he wanted Harry Potter's protection.

"I can tell where Harry is, vaguely, from a distance," he replied with smug satisfaction, though he was careful to keep the gloating out of his tone, "and with more certainty as I get closer. Sometimes I can tell where he's not, mostly in the dungeons."

"How?" Remus asked curiously.

"It's like... a rope of magic connecting me to him, with threads of 'wrongness' to the places he's not." Considering that, Draco qualified his statement. "At least, that's what I'd assumed those other threads meant. But I'm getting a very strong 'negative' thread from you, Uncle Severus."

Severus didn't seem surprised by that, but he didn't explain. Instead, he asked Remus if he could speak with Draco alone. Remus looked at Draco before answering, and Draco had the strangest feeling that if he'd protested, the werewolf would have refused to leave. Draco didn't, however, so Remus just touched his arm encouragingly before leaving. The brief contact felt good, like it was equalizing the pressure, and the pain lessened just for a moment.

Without saying a word, Severus took a package from his robes, placed it on the table next to him, and crossed to the other side of the room. "Is the thread directed at me or the parcel?"

"The parcel." Draco didn't hesitate. With the parcel separate from his godfather, the feeling was much stronger, and it was making him very uncomfortable.

Severus moved to pick up the parcel, and he brought it with him to the bed. Draco had to fight the urge to recoil violently. His reaction made sense when Severus explained that the Dark Lord had instructed him to deliver the package. Draco opened it gingerly. It contained a number of books the Dark Lord claimed would assist in preparing Draco to meet his expectations. Draco was positive he did not want to read them: they were sex manuals, really, and not the sort that would have made him popular with the boys in dorm. They were much more specialized, instruction manuals, really, and Severus paled at the titles. Simply being in possession of them would have been enough to put him in detention for the rest of the year if not have him expelled altogether if they hadn't been charmed to appear innocuous to others. There were also charms to track when the book was open, so even after he'd pledged to Harry, he'd have to do a credible imitation of studying them, if they didn't want to cause suspicion.

It had confirmed, without a doubt, that that was not the future he wanted for himself.

It had also made him wonder how it could be the future Lucius Malfoy wanted for his heir. He was a stern and powerful man, but Draco had tried so hard though his childhood to be what he'd been expected to be, even knowing that he'd rarely be successful. The intense relief and incomparable joy when he'd earn praise, the quiet pride he'd felt when he would be recognized as the Malfoy son – he'd lived for those feelings.

And his mother had loved him, as best she could between the demands on her time and Lucius's dictates.

It had been enough, had been worth it.

Or so he'd thought.

Finding out how little he was valued was demoralizing, to say the least.

Severus may not have been a recreation of his childhood dream, and he might not be treating Draco as trustworthy, but he would be better than that. Thank Merlin for second chances.

He hadn't realized until he was yelling at Remus yesterday exactly how bitter he was that Severus had abandoned him as a child.

They'd had an opportunity to talk about why his godfather hadn't told him, even after he'd expressed his own doubts. Draco wasn't entirely happy with the outcome of the conversation. Severus wasn't showing nearly enough remorse – not any at all, really – but Draco had grudgingly come to admit that he could at least understand why Severus had made the choices he did.

The spell would give him a second chance with Severus, to see if the relationship they had almost had when Draco was a child could be recaptured.

He would also have a proper chance with Remus and Harry, a chance to make things right. He had been the reason why those relationships hadn't worked, with Remus because he'd been too cowed by Lucius's dictates to give the man a chance, with Harry because the principles Lucius had instilled in him had been incompatible with the society the wizarding world had become.

"Is that everything?" he asked, hoping with every fibre of his being that he could just be left alone.

"I'm afraid not."

Draco turned to Severus expectantly, waiting to see exactly what sort of justification he intended to offer for keeping his spy status secret. Would he tell the truth? Honesty now would go a long way towards countering the betrayal that was all too familiar. He'd finally started to overcome those feelings but they had returned with a vengeance after yesterday's conversation with Remus.

Unfortunately, Draco wasn't going to get an explanation let alone an apology.

"You are aware that as vectigal all of your rights, honours, and goods become the property of your dominus."

Draco looked at him blankly, waiting for the point.

"The headmaster and your cousin have taken care of your financial disclosure and other paperwork, but there are still some items outstanding."

Bemused, Draco stared his godfather. Moving all the property he had at school out of the Head Boy's room would be tantamount to– Oh. The Head Boy's room.

"Head Boy." He said hollowly.

"And Seeker."

He wouldn't cry. Not about this. "Of course, sir." He kept his tone as even as he could. "The badges are attached to my robes." He pointed to where Pomfrey had put them when he'd been admitted.

While his godfather occupied with that, Draco tried valiantly to compose himself.

---

Though he was being careful not to show it, Harry was relieved to see Draco at lunch. The Slytherin had missed breakfast, which concerned Harry until the headmaster had discreetly pulled him aside to assure him that Draco was fine; he'd woken earlier, still confident in his decision to bond himself to Harry, and gloating – not the word Dumbledore used, but Harry could read between the lines – that the timing of the collapse had all but proved his pet theory about the scheduling of the next stage of the ritual.

According to the information they could glean from the books they could access, various aspect of the ritual – the times, locations, etc. – could influence the resulting bond, and certain choices would make it stronger or more powerful. Unfortunately, the texts were unclear as to whether that referred to the power of the dominus over the vectigal or to the partnership. Draco had argued for the latter interpretation based on an improperly translated pronoun antecedent. Remus expressed reservations but allowed that Draco's theory had theoretical merit. Snape and Harry were decidedly against taking the risk.

Draco's theory involved waiting until late Sunday to pledge himself, anchoring the bond with Harry. It would be dangerous: until he chose someone, the bond was open, draining Draco physically, magically, and probably emotionally – another cause for bitterness towards Voldemort for his treatment of Draco, who'd intended the strain to continue for another two weeks. Depending on how long it would have taken Draco to acclimatize to the drain, attending class would have been difficult at best and likely impossible for that long without choosing a bonded. If he'd been thrilled at the idea of bonding himself to Lord Voldemort, it might have been manageable, but it was unlikely. That could have been what Voldemort and the Malfoys intended, giving them a reason to remove Draco from school early and allowing them to perform the remaining stages of the ritual in a balanced manner, but Harry rather doubted it.

It wasn't a sound policy in the slightest, since the longer the delay, the greater the chance something would go wrong. If the first casting had been as public as it should have been, for example, it would have been widely known that Draco would be bonding himself to a Parselmouth. The additional time would mean a risk of others travelling to the area to be considered, of Draco being enticed to choose another, of Draco being kidnapped and held until he broke down and pledged himself to the nearest available dominus. As it was, Harry had in fact 'stolen' his vectigal without a public declaration and within the shortest possible time frame.

At the moment, however, Harry's satisfaction at thwarting Voldemort was overshadowed by his frustration with his soon-to-be bonded. Draco was doing an adequate job of hiding it, but Harry could tell that the strain was already wearing on him, and there were several hours before the time he intended for the pledging.

Harry caught his eye eventually, flicking his own to Dumbledore and back, hoping Draco would understand what Harry was trying to say. The slight, negative motion of the other boy's head could not even be properly called a shake, but it was clear nonetheless: he had no intention of changing his mind. Harry tried again to express his concern, but after that, the other boy refused to make eye-contact with Harry entirely.

In frustration, Harry tried to communicate the same to Snape. From him, there was no discernible acknowledgement, at all, though Harry hadn't expected one. Within moments, however, Snape had stood and was heading to the Slytherin table to pull Draco aside for a Silenced discussion. It ended with Draco returning to his seat, stabbing at his suddenly offending breakfast and glaring in the general direction of the Gryffindor table, while Snape marched out of the Great Hall even more stridently than usual.

The ball of tension that had settled in Harry's stomach grew, making it impossible for him to taste his breakfast, let alone enjoy it. He waited until observers could not assume that their departures were related – a measure that was probably influenced by Slytherin paranoia and doubtless unnecessarily cautious – before throwing down his fork in defeat. "I'm heading back to the tower," he said finally.

Once there, he realized the flaw in that plan. If Draco did decide his theory wasn't worth the pain, Harry would need to be somewhere Draco could communicate that to him. He grabbed his Transfiguration notes and fished through his trunk for a spare quill. He paused with his hand on Bloodsworn. He'd had a chance to read it properly yesterday, after the match, and it had given him an idea. After a moment of debate, wondering if it was worth pursuing, he put it in his bag as well.

Instead of heading directly to the library, he detoured to Snape's office. There, he determined that Snape's level of frustration at the fact that Draco was adamant that he would not pledge earlier was even greater than Harry's before broaching the topic he'd come to ask about, namely Snape's opinion about the potential advantages of a slight change to the ritual as they had intended it.

Unfortunately, Snape responded as Harry expected. "Are you mad?" He began scathingly. But before he worked himself into a proper rant, he took a calming breath. "Do you understand how dangerous this would be?" He continued in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "Blood magic is not to be taken lightly."

As part of the ritual, Draco would have to shed his own blood, symbolizing his willingness to die for his dominus. "Draco has to do it; how can I ask him to do something I'm not willing to do myself?"

"Far be it for me to stand between a Gryffindor and a stunt that is both noble and dangerous." He countered, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Harry drew his professor's attention to the passages in Bloodsworn that discussed the elements that were worrisome about this sort of ritual, with only one participant calling blood – making the aspects they were most concerned about more likely if not absolutely certain. This text, however, went on to suggest that these dangers could be lessened if the casting were balanced.

Snape being Snape, he didn't trust the selected passages and demanded an opportunity to read in depth. Since they didn't have much time, Harry started to pull out his homework to work on while Snape read, but his professor had other ideas.

"Here," Snape said, handing him a bright, thinnish book, called Not Bad Enough: The Historical Origins of the Unforgivables. "Read the overview of the history of legal classification of curses. If you finish, read the section on command curses."

Harry had finished the first and the theory of command curses and was beginning the section on casting specifics when Snape closed Bloodsworn. He stared intently at Harry for several moments.

"Have you considered the political and social ramifications?"

Harry looked at him, genuinely puzzled.

"You are aware that blood magic is illegal."

"That's what Neville said." Harry continued before Snape could make the expected snide remark. "The Adoption Spell is also blood magic, so are the Binding Oath and Testimony Spell." The latter two were examples from the book he'd just read and standard use in the Ministry.

With his fingers on the bridge of his nose, Professor Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He also muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'Wizarding Studies' before explaining.

"All three of those spells are traditional, widely accepted, and most people don't remember that they are classified as such. They are also examples of the few legally sanctioned occasions of use, notable as exceptions. Blood magic is generally considered dangerous, Dark, even evil.

"Fidelitās Dominō, on the other hand, might be legal blood magic, but it is also very rare and hotly contested when the public has cause to remember that it exists. The last four motions to have it banned were defeated by the Wizongamot very narrowly, the last time more than fifty years ago. The next time will very likely be the last, particularly once the wizarding world discovers the circumstances surrounding this casting.

"Are you aware of how your participation in a ritual as controversial as Fidelitas Domino will be perceived? The magnitude of the scandal which would erupt when society discovers that the Boy Who Lived voluntarily extended his involvement, agreed to bleed himself in order to encourage equality with a Malfoy?" He said the name with the sneer Ron favoured. "The wizarding world will be outraged. And you'll be underaged again, once they hear of it, which will give them more incentive to interfere further."

"You and Remus are our guardians or will be, and you will let us." That got him a challenging look, so he added, "Hypothetically."

"You're forgetting that you're Harry Potter. The wizarding world will happily ignore our rights."

"They can't do anything, though, right? I'm not doing all this to find myself suddenly adopted by someone else for my own good?" Harry panicked at the idea of it.

"No. But that you even asked– This is Blood Magic. It is not reversible. All forms of Mentoring Spells are indelible, but this will create a bond between father and son every bit as permanent as birth. There are reasons why this branch of magic is so strictly monitored! Each time the spell is cast, the souls of the caster and the subject are amalgamated, and you'd be participating in two major rituals concurrently. They will likely augment each other and their effects on you, on both of you. You're asking to risk that on the chance that the bond might manifest more equitably."

Harry nodded to show that he'd been listening but rather than answering directly, he asked a question. "Do you think I'm right? About it being more equal if I do this?"

Professor Snape stared at Harry for several seconds. "Yes," he said finally.

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