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I'm no longer going to even attempt to justify my tardy updates or speculate about when the next one will happen. The more I do, the worse it gets. That being said, with warmest birthday wishes to (Choosing Family's) Draco and Beta Tithenai, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

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 Phoenix Writing, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own.

Additional notes are available before the prologue.

Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.

Originally posted 13 Dec. '07

Paths Divergent

The walk from the hospital wing to the dungeons on Friday afternoon was not as straightforward as one would expect. Knowing that Draco Malfoy would be heading in the reverse direction for his own class, Harry hoped to choose a route that would keep them from running into each other in the hallways. That in itself was not unusual, but the reasons for it had changed, and he had mixed feeling about that.

He hadn't enjoyed having to warily turn corners, watching for Slytherins waiting to ambush him, and he was grateful that had stopped. It was one of the outcomes he'd hoped for when he and Hermione had convinced the Gryffindors to back off, and it was one of the greatest benefits.

Malfoy had been unexpectedly professional in his dealings with Hermione and Ron as Head Girl and Prefect, taking his responsibilities as Head Boy very seriously, and even before the recent Hogsmeade trip, Malfoy had rarely been around, which made it easy for them to keep out of each other's way. Things had toned down on the Quidditch pitch, even. Urqhart, the Slytherin captain, had the team practising playing rather than cheating and terrorizing the opposing team. Harry may have won their match last month, but Malfoy – Harry's best competition on the pitch, if he were being honest – had played a very good game, and without the dirty tactics the team usually employed, his skill had been obvious even to the most casual observer.

As nice as the change was, this year's lack of animosity was really only indicative of a concentrated effort on both their parts to resist provoking confrontation. How would "Potter" and "Malfoy" manage when they were bound and living together, negotiating a new, forced balance of power?

Obviously, Harry would have to apologize first thing for the way he'd just left after Potions on Monday – and he wanted to – but he had no idea how to do that without explaining about the dream, which was something he would prefer to avoid. In fact, he'd be perfectly happy to never even think about that dream ever again. It had been far more terrifying than anything he'd witnessed through Voldemort's mind, and he simply couldn't forget it.

Slytherin does not equal evil. Hermione had been preaching that all term, and Harry had even come to believe it. But Slytherin was the House of the ambitious and the likeliest to succumb to the Dark Arts. Most importantly, the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him there, had thought he'd suit. It had said he had a thirst to prove himself. Maybe I do, he conceded reluctantly, but surely not at any expense. What if what the Hat had seen was not his connection to Voldemort or that he was a Parselmouth, but that he was predisposed to abuse power over others? He'd dragged his friends into any number of dangerous situations, from the third floor corridor in first year to the fight at Azkaban in sixth. Even worse was when he'd brought them to the Ministry – he'd taken advantage of more than just Ron and Hermione that time.

Harry knew his reluctance to commit to Fidelitās Dominō had disappointed Remus, who had assumed that his doubts were the result of second-guessing his "saving people thing" and that he didn't recognize the seriousness of the situation or Malfoy's lack of options. Amazingly, though, when Remus had broached the subject, it hadn't sounded condescending or critical. Much to Harry's amusement, it had sounded like Hermione quizzing his comprehension of a homework reading, but he'd felt increasingly confident as Remus nodded approvingly without identifying all sorts of things he'd forgotten.

Unfortunately, that didn't lessen the guilt he felt for letting Remus's assumption stand. It was awful, knowing that he'd already managed to fall short of his soon-to-be guardian's expectations, but he simply couldn't tell Remus the real problem. He couldn't tell Remus about the dream. He knew Remus wouldn't understand. Face it, Harry, he'd be horrified, and rightly so.

Harry might not be so adept at Occlumency that he could keep Voldemort out of his head entirely, but he did have a firm grasp of the foundations, and he was able to differentiate between his own thoughts and Voldemort's manipulations. Not at the time, maybe, but once he woke up, he could distinguish between his own thoughts and emotions and those that Voldemort had planted. He knew full well that that dream had been entirely his. He'd been the one to imagine it, and he'd been the one revelling in it. The thrill at the fear of the others, the pleasure of ownership, the sensual enjoyment of the ribbon and Malfoy's hair – that had all been him. And that was terrifying.

Eventually, he had decided to go ahead with the bonding anyway, despite his doubts, fervently hoping they wouldn't negatively influence the bond or any future relationship, personal or magical, between him and Malfoy.

I can't believe I'm planning a future relationship of any sort with Malfoy, Harry thought. He tried to imagine his reaction if someone had told him years ago that this would be his future. During detention in the Forbidden Forest, maybe, or on the train at the end of fourth year. Before he could get himself too worked up about their history, Harry forced himself to stop. Malfoy had been a nasty prat – still was, at times – but he'd been tolerable this year at least, and this was the Malfoy he'd be living with. Now that he'd decided to do this, he would have to do his best to put it aside even if he couldn't yet manage to forgive or forget.

Trying to think of something else, he hit upon a guaranteed distraction: he remembered how awkward his last encounter with Snape had been and how much more so this coming meeting was likely to be.

Harry knew how proud Snape was. That – regardless of however important his relationship with Malfoy was to him – he would unbend enough to ask Harry for a personal favour... It was a little overwhelming, in the way that "little" could be used to describe Grawp.

There was a part of him that wanted to tell someone about the conversation – not to gloat, but because he knew how significant it was. Harry had never seen or even heard of Snape asking anyone for anything, and he was so pleased, so honoured that he'd ask something of Harry. He'd almost said something to Remus, but before he'd more than opened his mouth, he'd stopped, aware that he couldn't repay a gift of that magnitude with a betrayal that was even greater. He'd known their relationship was getting better, certainly from Harry's perspective it had improved tremendously, but he hadn't even considered that it could have been mutual.

Harry's only regret was that the revelation had been prompted by his own cowardice.

Knowing that Snape's mood would likely be worse than usual, he braced himself as he knocked on the door and entered. A single glance at the professor confirmed his assumption. Snape was standing behind the desk and the neatly stacked piles of parchment that covered it, but he didn't look up from the parchment in his hand or otherwise acknowledge Harry for several moments. The Gryffindor tried not to fidget, knowing that providing additional provocation was hardly a good idea.

When Snape finally spoke, the tone managed to be both offhand and snide. "You're late."

"Madam Pomfrey had a few questions before she'd release me from the hospital wing."

"And why, pray tell, were you in the hospital wing?" He still hadn't looked up from whatever he was reading, and Harry couldn't help but think that that might be a good thing. Pomfrey had mentioned that the potion had been made especially, and Snape hated being told information that he already knew, so Harry knew this had to be leading somewhere, likely into a trap, but he couldn't see how to avoid it. "There was an accident in DADA."

"An 'accident.'"

"Yes. Sir." Snape no longer demanded he use the honorific in private, but it was safer when the professor was in this sort of mood.

"What sort of accident was it, Mr. Potter? Specifically." Snape prompted in a soft, silky tone that was only slightly terrifying.

Harry was certain that he'd heard the story, so the question made him even more nervous. Still unable to remember the events for himself, Harry repeated what he'd been told: the class had been divided into four teams; each team had to capture the flag of the team designated as their opposition while avoiding the other two. Harry had been hit by an assortment of spells, two sent by the team opposing his and one stray hex from across the room. Collectively, they had knocked him unconscious and into Malfoy's shield.

"And your position within your team?"

Bollocks. Knowing his answer would only make things worse, Harry sighed. "I was on point." The first into enemy territory, it was his job to lead the group safely, not draw attention to them.

"So you were visible, vulnerable, unaware of the positioning of neutral bystanders, not only unprepared to defend but, in fact, drawing attention to both yourself and your team... Did you manage to secure the flag at least?" he finished snidely.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled. He should have realized that Snape – one of his principle instructors in combat and duelling techniques – would be most concerned about that aspect, and he tried to defend himself. "It wasn't a battle. It was just class, and we– "

"That is exactly the point, Potter!" Snape interrupted loudly. "How can you possibly expect to defeat the most insignificant of Death Eaters let alone the Dark Lord if you cannot defend against your classmates! Your reactions must be innate. Do you realize how many Death Eaters will be targeting you personally? I don't have a great deal of confidence in your chances of success if you can be taken down by children." Harry considered mentioning that the Death Eaters had been defeated by some of those same children but didn't think that would help his case.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to 'flaunt my training'? I thought I was supposed to let them underestimate me!"

"Regardless of... extenuating circumstances, I expect to be addressed with due respect." Snape may have begun his tirade in a near shout, but he finished it with a chilling whisper. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." One of these days he might be able to hold his temper around Snape. He hadn't been certain that he'd manage it, since he'd be leaving Hogwarts at the end of the year, but with three extra years of exposure to the man and the extra practice... .

"Is there anything you would have needed to know or do to succeed this morning that you have not already learned at Hogwarts or demonstrated publicly?"

He may not have attended every DA meeting this year – Ginny had assumed the running of it, since the seventh years were preoccupied with N.E.W.T.s, C.A.T.S., and other duties – but his skills were no secret to its members, and history had shown that it was possible that there was at least one traitor in any group. That also didn't take into account the altercations he'd already had with Death Eaters or Voldemort himself.

He shook his head. He might not remember today's class, but he knew his friends and their strengths and weaknesses. The sheer number of hours he'd spent training should have prepared him, conditioning his reaction times well beyond those of his classmates.

"Then I can assure you that that niffler is already hunting. All of the sacrifices that have been and will be made will count for naught if he is not defeated."

Harry thought it best not to say anything and simply nodded. He considered broaching the subject of the prophesy – he hadn't thought Snape knew about it – but he refrained, hoping that they would be moving on to other topics, ones which might not be any less difficult but would be less of an attack on him personally. As the silence stretched, he heard his professor ruffling through the sheets in front of him, and Harry let himself relax.

This was, as it turned out, a bad decision.

"Why did you wait so long?"

"Sir?" Harry didn't understand the question. It had been asked so calmly that Harry knew the leap his own mind had made couldn't be the correct one.

"It was clear from the first conversation in the headmaster's office. Why the dithering?" Harry was a little surprised that Snape would ask and not quite sure what he should say. A question that direct, at least from this Slytherin, was a challenge, a dare even, to give an easy answer and present Snape with an excuse to have at him. In light of Snape's trust in showing vulnerability yesterday and Harry's disappointing performance earlier this morning, Harry decided the man deserved honesty.

"I was scared." Harry waited for the mocking that he was certain would follow, but that was communicated eloquently with no more than a raised eyebrow. There was no verbal response at all. "What if he's made a mistake? What if I'm no better than Vol– Tom?"

Snape made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and Harry continued before he could follow it with a scathing remark.

"I led the DA for six months and dragged five of my friends into a trap, nearly getting them killed. I'm a figurehead for the entire bloody wizarding world, which means it's only going to get worse. Adding a slave bond with a traditional rival could be very bad for both of us. Things are bad enough for Malfoy as it is. Why wouldn't he try... I don't know... something else – hoping really hard that the bond won't find him suitable? That would be the best-case scenario, wouldn't it, that the bond wouldn't take hold?" Unable to stand still any longer, he moved restlessly, aimlessly around the room.

"What if I'm too much like... Him? In some ways, we're very similar: orphaned, ignored growing up, then there's this new world that opens up, and ..." His voice trailed off at the thought of what that had meant to him and what it would have meant to Tom Riddle. "We have twin wand cores, did you know? 'The wand chooses the wizard.'" And the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin, too.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, and with his eyes focussed intently on the flames, he found himself telling his professor about The Dream. He spoke quickly, as if in doing so he wouldn't notice what he was saying or to whom. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Remus, but he needed to tell someone, and Snape might understand. Harry knew what the Death Eaters were capable of: he'd witnessed it firsthand. He knew his professor had done horrific things himself in Voldemort's service.

He continued to watch the flames, waiting for judgement to be passed. It was surprising, how much harder the wait was for this jury of one than for the entirety of the Wizengamot. The silence stretched until, unable to bear not knowing any longer, he turned around to find his professor staring at him with an expression that was very hard to interpret.

"If you had been in possession of any sense whatsoever, Mr. Potter, when you arrived, you would have asked that the Sorting Hat place you in any House but Gryffindor. Your martyr complex is quite possibly unparalleled and needs no encouragement." What shocked Harry most was the mildness, in both tenor and tone, of the comment and the question that followed it. "When did you contact Lupin?"

Harry knew better than to even think of lying. His answer, "Late Sunday night," garnered a noncommittal nod and another question. "When did you speak with him?"

"Wednesday after dinner about the mentoring spell, Thursday morning about the bonding." Given how tightly strung he was, the lack of reaction was almost worse than the shouting he had expected. Almost.

"Why did you delay?"

"Remus had things to do. He said he could rearrange them," Harry qualified hastily when he saw the blackening of Snape's expression, "but I didn't want him to be rushed or preoccupied when he was deciding. And I needed time to find out what I was asking Remus to do, before I asked him. I needed to know if it was bearable." For him and for me.

There was no response other than "You were given a deadline" in that same cool and emotionless voice. It was a statement of fact rather than a question, but the silence that followed was so intolerable that Harry nodded anyway.

"The headmaster said he needed to know by Thursday," he confirmed. He stopped abruptly when Snape raised his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Clearly any delay was not in Draco's best interest." Harry flinched, but the Potions master continued without acknowledging it. "In the short term. Why do you suppose the headmaster gave you such a long time to decide?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that, which was just as well, since he wasn't given a chance to respond.

"Draco has been trained his entire life to be loyal to Lucius and to the Malfoy heritage. He may be having doubts about Lucius's interpretation of what that means, but that will have only strengthened his sense of duty towards his family. There is no possibility that the bond will not accept him." Snape sighed wearily before continuing. "Draco had no other palatable alternatives. He, myself, the headmaster – we have all accepted that. Apart from all other considerations, it would take years to research the character, magical strength, and location of any other known speaker of Parseltongue, and Merlin knows how long to convince any potential candidate to consider defying the Dark Lord – had you considered why there are no other Parselmouths in Great Britain? It would not be possible to keep his – our – defiance a secret, nor would we be able to hide from his wrath for that long. Your own personal experiences aside, the Dark Lord does tend to anticipate and impede most, if not all, avenues of escaping his schemes." He spoke with such dispassion that Harry nearly missed the significance of what followed. "Had you refused, Draco would not have needed longer than the day to set his affairs in order. As difficult as it was, the time was better spent ensuring that you are comfortable with your decision. The bond would be weak otherwise."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing? I mean, for Malfoy?" Harry knew from the research he had done that a tighter bond would give him access to more of Malfoy's magic, but he didn't think Snape would consider that a fair trade for Malfoy's relative loss of autonomy. Harry certainly didn't.

"The tighter the ensuing bond, the more difficult it will be for the Dark Lord to enter your mind through your bonded's." Harry's eyes widened, and he could tell that Snape understood what he couldn't find the words to say.

"Indeed."

"But Malfoy doesn't have a curse scar, how – "

"Bound to you, it wouldn't be necessary. Unless your bond is extraordinarily weak, it will form a connection that will be sufficient for him to gain access. He has been frustrated by his inability to reach you of late. Once he discovers how his scheme was thwarted, he will redouble his attempts. Draco's desperation to escape the Dark Lord will ensure the bond is stronger than any of us would like, and I doubt very much that it will lessen before the bonding takes place.

"Since a precise calculation of what must be done to attain a particular strength or form of bond is not possible, the most logical course is to do all you can to fortify it. If the two of you are forced to go through with this preposterous exercise, you will do so in a manner that will obtain the maximum benefit for you and for Draco at the least risk. My apologies if that offends your Gryffindor Code of Behaviour." Part of Harry was relieved at the return of his snarky commentary, and part of Harry was appalled at the suggestion that they work to strengthen the bond. A third part was now nervous about objecting.

"But – " Gryffindor, after all.

"Your research was rather incomplete – "

Harry started to protest, again. He'd read every bloody text in the library on the subject and had the devil's own time trying to keep Hermione from getting suspicious about the amount of studying he appeared to be doing while he did.

"– due in no small part, I'm certain, to inadequacies of the Hogwarts library which is a natural consequence of an imbalance created by a bias against certain forms of magic."

Harry nearly snorted as he imagined Hermione's reaction to that statement.

"Blood magic is often categorized as Dark, owing to the similarities in the use of emotion and intent to strengthen or guide the magic within the spell. The former has not been banned in its entirely by the Ministry only because the vast majority of those spells, Fidelitās Dominō included, fail if the participants are not willing. The more committed the participants are, the more powerful the results." He paused suddenly, pinning Harry with his eyes. "Both the participants. It can not be entirely one-sided. You have ways in which you benefit from the situation, and you would do well to accept that." He was still staring at Harry intently. "Doubt will help neither you nor Draco. Neither will guilt."

When Harry looked down, breaking free of his gaze, Snape continued. "You will not be defeated by this scheme, but if you allow it to distract you, the Dark Lord will win."

Harry considered that, but he was too discomfited by Snape's steady observation of him to think clearly. He was relieved when the professor finally returned to his notes, closing the topic, at least temporarily.

Standing there, waiting for the next difficult topic to be broached, he remembered that he had one of his own. Remus had said he would need to talk to Malfoy, and Harry knew that also applied to the man who would become his father.

"I'm sorry, sir. I– My behaviour was– deplorable." One of Snape's favourite accusations but sometimes he does have the right of it, Harry admitted reluctantly. "I should have made sure that you – and Malfoy – knew what my decision was as soon as I made it." Especially knowing Dumbledore's history of not sharing information promptly. He debated the wisdom of mentioning the conversation after CATS:DA but decided it was necessary to acknowledge that he was aware of the significance of the gesture. "You shouldn't have had to ask; I should have made sure you knew." He kept his Occlumency barriers down and looked directly at his professor, willing to make eye contact if the older man looked up. He wanted to make sure that Snape knew he was not apologizing just to avoid a lecture – though if he could manage that he'd count himself very fortunate (more so than he deserved) – but because he knew he was in the wrong. "I also intend to apologise to Malfoy."

Harry may have been willing to relinquish his adult status, but he was still accountable for his actions, and if he were going to be making permanent, life-altering decisions, he should do them properly and take responsibility for them. Which, he realized ruefully, was a theme common to many of the lectures he'd received from the man currently looking at him with such a closed and stony expression that Harry braced himself for a blasting lecture.

Before the older man had done more than take one deep breath, however, he stopped, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. He was probably Occluding, but Harry was uncertain if that was positive or not. After several seconds, he opened his eyes and stared at Harry for a long moment then nodded once, sharply.

"Have you read Overview of Oaths and Oath-breaking, Light Spells With Dark Consequences, and Basics of Bonding?" he asked, in a manner that was professional and almost reasonable.

Relieved that his apology had been accepted, Harry did his best to answer in a similar fashion. "The first two, yes, as well as the introduction and the fifth volume of Basics of Bonding."

"Your thoughts?"

"Overview is useless, Light Spells With Dark Consequences is very detailed but much too flowery to make for comfortable reading, and the facts are corroborated in Azalea Thimble's History of Diplomacy in the Wizarding World and Bloodsworn. Basics of Bonding was very helpful."

"Where did you find a copy of Bloodsworn?" his professor asked in disbelief.

"Remus found it in the library at Grimmauld Place and gave it to me yesterday." After explaining Malfoy's predicament, he and Remus had discussed the research he'd done, then searched quickly through the texts in the library. They'd found several that Remus remembered from last summer's inventory which would be useful. Harry'd taken two of them back to Hogwarts with him, with a reminder from Remus that he would need to keep them well hidden. The first, Harry had wished he could borrow from the Restricted Section; Harry strongly suspected the other, Bloodsworn, was one of the books Snape had been referring to earlier when he was belittling the school library. "I haven't had a chance to read it thoroughly, it but looked like it would be really useful."

Snape snorted. "Apparently there is at least one positive aspect to that hellhole."

"Yeah. About that..." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes?" Snape prompted.

"I'm planning to ask Malfoy to stay there for Christmas."

Harry had a feeling that the uncomfortable twist of lips he witnessed was mirrored on his own face.

"– And I think he – I was –" He took a deep breath and tried again. "Would you join us, sir?" This time, the honorific emerged naturally.

Snape pinched his nose and exhaled slowly. "This was not what I expected for the holidays," he breathed, almost inaudibly. "Yes, Potter," he replied finally, "I accept your invitation." He paused, then added, "Thank you."

Stunned, Harry replied automatically. "You're welcome." He tried to think of something – anything – he could possibly say after that, and the silence stretched awkwardly.

It was finally broken by Snape himself, who began interrogating Harry with rapid-fire questions, establishing the thoroughness of his research, his comprehension of it, and his familiarity with the rituals until Snape was satisfied that he had thought it entirely through.

Harry thought he'd come out sounding not completely unprepared, partly because of the parallels between this interrogation and the one Remus had given him yesterday morning. The styles were very different to be sure, but the thoroughness and intentions were the same. It was only at that moment that he understood precisely how many more hours of Snape would be included in bonding with Malfoy. He was careful to keep any trace of amusement hidden when he realized that after fifteen years without parents, he was going to have two fathers, or near enough.

Remus arrived before the question and answer session was complete, and he joined their discussion. Remus and Snape were distant but carefully polite, as they had been when Remus had been the DADA professor. It felt familiar to Harry: it was not a combination that he'd worked with often when training with the Order, but it had happened, and he was able to forget his discomfort in that familiarity. It was not until just before dinner that things got a little surreal.

The knock on the door was jarring, and Harry's uneasiness returned as soon as he realized who was probably on the other side. Snape released the wards and opened the door to reveal that the new arrival was indeed Draco Malfoy. They exchanged greetings that Harry couldn't hear, then the elder Slytherin reset the wards while the younger nervously moved further into the room. He greeted Harry with a careful nod, who returned it with one that was equally measured. He nodded at Remus, too, just as stiffly as he had to Harry, but he coupled it with a careful, "Mr. Lupin."

"Mr. Malfoy," Remus replied evenly before looking curiously around the warded room and turning back to Malfoy with hints of both challenge and humour in his expression. It was obvious, suddenly, that Remus had been a Marauder, and Harry shared a nervous look with his Potions professor.

Malfoy flushed, and Harry stared. He'd never seen the other boy flustered before – angry, jubilant, or disdainful, yes, but never flustered. He hadn't entirely gotten over his surprise when the blond relaxed slightly. It was more an easing of his expression than an actual smile, but it was friendlier nonetheless. "Hi."

It was Snape's turn to be discomfitted, but the entirety of his reaction was a slow turn and an even slower raising of an eyebrow. Somewhat inappropriately at that moment, Harry decided he really wanted to learn how to do that. And not just because of the way it makes Malfoy squirm. What are the chances that another three years of constant exposure will get him to loosen up enough to teach me that?

His attention was returned to the conversation abruptly as he heard Malfoy explain about his visits to Remus's office during his tenure as DADA professor. My turn again, he thought inanely. And I don't think I hid it well, either. Fortunately, Malfoy was the only one who could have noticed; the others were still staring at the blond, one with an expression of disbelief, the other pride.

"Professor Lupin had all sorts of helpful advice, even in subjects that weren't Defence," Malfoy finished.

"No doubt," was Snape's verbal response, which was coupled with a pointed look at his colleague. Remus smiled a bit too blandly and directed his next words to the younger Slytherin. "There's no need to be so formal. You may call me 'Remus' if you like." Harry's eyes flew to Snape – he really didn't think he was ready for that – and found his professor looking back at him with equal discomfort. Acknowledging that, they found their amusement mirrored as well.

"Thank you, R-Remus." Malfoy stumbled slightly when saying the name, but Remus just smiled in a way that shared the humour rather than mocking it.

"Or Moony, if you'd prefer." There was a low growl from Snape – there was no other word to describe the sound he made – and Remus's smile faltered, briefly. "I'm open to suggestions." Malfoy grinned, and Harry found himself returning the smile.

Six hours later, he was less amused.

When Ron, Hermione, and he were attempting to solve a Voldemort-level puzzle – when they had sufficient time to plan – the three of them tossed around theories, Hermione coordinated the research, and they more or less mutually decided on a course of action. That, or Hermione would present them with one that was reasonably complete.

Harry was becoming increasingly certain that he preferred either of those methods.

His first problem with the current situation was that, not having been part of the search for alternatives, he was taking a lot on faith. Not that he didn't trust the others, but there were still niggling doubts. Hermione's plans usually worked out better for him that Dumbledore's.

In addition – and at this exact moment, more importantly – being presented with a nearly complete, functional plan meant that he didn't have to suffer through a debate about the minute details of the ritual. The stuff he understood, like the symbolism of what Malfoy would be wearing, he didn't want to discuss for five minutes, let alone five hours, though it was better than the stuff that he didn't understand, and the latter was, overwhelmingly, the majority of the conversation. When Harry was brainstorming with Ron and Hermione, he and Ron had a chance at keeping her from long, theoretical tangents and explanations. Here, he was trapped with not one but three detail-oriented people, and there was no one to take his side when he suggested they move on.

The one time he'd asked how a matter of minutes could really be that important, Malfoy had responded, "It's advanced Arithmancy, Potter. I know you've never studied it. Do you really want me to take the time for an explanation thorough enough that you'll understand it?" His tone was less biting than his words themselves suggested, but it carried enough frustration that Harry, given a choice between "Because we said so" and another three hours of theory and diagrams interspersed with derisive remarks from Snape about his course selections in third year, responded the only way he could: "So, eleven past seven. Then what?"

They worked through dinner, which was highly disconcerting in and of itself as the house-elves delivered it directly to Snape's office – and trying to eat with the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls was creepy – but they had many things to arrange and not a great deal of time. Despite the assurances he had been given earlier, Harry still felt twinges of guilt about that, and it warred with feelings of being trapped, especially after Malfoy pulled out a stack of parchment he'd filled with Arithmancy calculations.

By the end of the evening, however, they had drafted a reply to Lucius's letter which blamed Malfoy's fluctuating magic levels on a mild case of Cerulean Fever exacerbating the changes caused by the Fidelitās Dominō. Harry was astounded by the time that alone had taken – in Slytherin, apparently, every word had about eight subtly different meanings, and selecting the correct variant was a matter of life and death.

They'd also established the dates, times, and most of the other essential details of each of the remaining aspects of the ritual, which was not a small task either. Fidelitās Dominō was comprised of four separate castings, taking place over the course of a minimum of one lunar cycle. It was possible, of course, to draw it out over several months or even years, but there wasn't much point, since Malfoy would have to be bound if he were found suitable – and regardless of what Snape said, Harry was still holding out hope that he wouldn't be – and the longer they waited, the greater the chance that something could go wrong. Once the dominus was chosen and the bond begun between the two, it was impossible to break, at least overtly, unless one of the participants were dead. It was likely, of course, that Voldemort would increase his efforts to kill Harry, but that was nothing new, and every precaution would be taken to ensure their safety.

Harry had hoped that would mean they could stay at Hogwarts for the holidays rather than at Grimmauld Place, but it was decided that the added protection of the castle would be minimal and not sufficient to counter the potential weakening of the bond.

Each of the castings was anchored to a phase of the moon within the cycle, which, as far as Harry could tell, meant "taking place the exact same number of hours and minutes before or after the exact minute of the moon phase." It was more complicated than that – Malfoy's pages of Arithmancy had been only the beginning of their calculations – but that was the part Harry understood.

Different aspects of the ritual and the resulting bond were theoretically made stronger or weaker depending on whether they occurred earlier or later than their associated places in the lunar cycle, but the sources of information they could access varied in their claims and explanations. As a result, much of their planning was based on guesswork, something no one was happy about.

What had worked in their favour was the scheduling of the changing phases of the moon: each of the three taking place before the students left for the holidays fell on the weekend, when schedules were more flexible. It meant that Snape, Harry, and particularly Malfoy wouldn't have to make up excuses to leave class, say, at times when Voldemort would be watching for deviations from the norm.

Voldemort had anchored the Prīncipium, the first part of the ritual, on the new moon, which even Harry knew was the most auspicious time for new beginnings, and the four of them decided that the three remaining castings and the adoption ceremony would each be anchored on a separate phase of the upcoming month, ending with the last of the four, the Significātiō, on the following new moon. It was a schedule, they hoped, that would make the adjustment to the bond as easy as possible for Malfoy.

Something Voldemort had disregarded entirely.

He had hinted that the ritual would be complete on the new year, but if he intended to perform the ritual with as safe a transition as possible for Malfoy, Narcissa should have requested that her son be permitted to leave the school earlier than the end of term. She hadn't.

The moon would be at three quarters full the morning before the Express left for London to return the students home for the holidays. Waiting until then would permit one casting to be performed that evening, leaving the two others to be anchored on the new moon.

Dumbledore had said that "the participants were expected to use the time before the fourth casting to adjust to the bond": anchoring the third and fourth castings to the same phase of the moon left very little time for Malfoy to acclimatize to a very difficult situation.

To say that Malfoy preferred the schedule they had come up with was an understatement.

The adoption ceremony was not specifically part of the Fidelitās Dominō and could be performed at any time, but it was very likely that by anchoring it as though it were, acknowledging that it was being driven by Fidelitās Dominō, both spells would be strengthened. This was partly because both were blood magic, partly because intentions were honourable – if forced – and in the case of Fidelitās Dominō, partly because the adoption would equalize the status of the bonded couple. There was literature that suggested – without conclusive evidence, Snape would sneer, inciting yet another round of debate for Harry to tune out – that bonding between equals was more powerful.

The principal reason for the decision to include the adoption, however, was that none of the Fidelitās Dominō castings could be performed that close to the full moon by a werewolf. The closer Remus was to the full, the more dominant the wolf: as a result, Remus the wizard didn't have the magical strength necessary to participate in the Fidelitās Dominō, and the werewolf didn't have the dexterity or the comprehension. There was also the fear that the werewolf's instincts would dull the wizard's, which might throw off the bonding ritual, regardless.

Because the adoption spell focussed almost entirely on emotion – variants were used when Squibs and Muggles needed to be recognized by property wards, after all – it was agreed that there should be too little magic required to call the wolf forth, even on the day of the full. It helped, too, that the full moon would occur the night after Malfoy's seventeenth birthday. It wouldn't be possible for Malfoy to be adopted before then, at least not without overt Ministry involvement, but leaving it too late could cause disruptions in the bonding process.

Remus also had reservations about the scheduling, but since he couldn't be more specific than "something's off," nor could he find a flaw in the reasoning, he was overruled. Harry had abstained.

It was something he'd done a lot of over the course of the afternoon, earning each time a sympathetic look from Remus and a disapproving one from Snape. By necessity, he paid more attention when they began discussing the schedule.

To prevent the feelings of alienation and to counter any lingering doubt triggered by Voldemort's treatment, Harry and Malfoy would need to find ways to spend time together, and they'd need to do it without prompting suspicion. Harry had been correct in his assumption that they'd been paired in Potions for exactly that reason and was unsurprised when Malfoy confirmed that he, too, had chosen Eustacia Sigismund for his N.E.W.T. Charms project. Something about that amused Snape, but Harry thought it was quite practical of them to have a second project, if only because it diverted suspicion from Snape himself. Flitwick had warned the seventh-year classes that the resources for several of the potential topics were sparse and suggested that they learn who else was researching their topics and share the available material. While they would not officially know their assignments until early next week, it was unlikely that anyone else had requested the same obscure diplomat when there were so many other, more exciting choices on the list.

When none of the others mentioned a next topic of discussion, Harry was about to ask for a few minutes alone with the younger Slytherin before they returned to their dorms, but Malfoy spoke first.

"Are we finished for the evening, then?"

Harry was disappointed – he needed to apologize, and he'd prefer to do it alone. They would need to speak alone eventually, and it was best done before the ritual, if only to make sure they could manage it without harming one another.

"I have rounds tonight," he explained cautiously. Harry raised his head to find the blond looking nervously from Harry to Snape and back again. Harry would have been anxious, too: Snape's expression registered a level of disapproval that was usually reserved for Gryffindors. He amended "would have been" to was anxious, when he registered the flick of the eye that Snape directed at him. Is there some Slytherin code that they have to show better endurance that Gryffindors?

Remus turned to him curiously, and, faced with the rather disconcerting experience of all three of them staring at him, he shrugged to indicate that he had nothing else to add.

Leaving together would draw far too much attention, so they staggered their departures. Malfoy left first, as he was nearly late. Remus was the only one to wish him goodnight; Harry was rather more concerned with the fact that Snape hadn't stopped staring at him.

"What were you going to say?"

Harry shrugged again and tried to brush it off as not important, but Snape persisted, without saying a word, and Harry explained that he'd hoped to speak with Draco and his reasoning for doing it alone.

He finished, and Snape continued to watch him silently with the same measured look. Remus, after a quick look at the Slytherin that went unacknowledged, suggested that waiting would be a better choice: as exhausted as they were, neither Harry nor Draco was capable of diplomacy or tact, and that would be essential if they didn't want to risk damage to the fledgling bond.

Harry agreed, still disappointed, and Snape finally spoke. "I will send a message to Draco, directing him to meet you tomorrow."

"What if Malfoy has plans?"

"I am certain he will be free during the Quidditch match." He forestalled Harry's protest with a raised finger. "You may tell your friends that I've given you a detention, and you will join them later. Continue to argue, and I will in truth." Harry closed his mouth and nodded, and Remus gave him another sympathetic look. He was getting tired of those.

"He'll meet you under the Slytherin stands when the game starts."

Harry nodded again, unwilling to risk speaking and saying something he shouldn't.

"Names, as you are well aware, have both power and significance." Harry held back a sigh. He really didn't feel up to a lecture, particularly not one that he'd heard many times before and on an issue he couldn't remember infracting.

"You would do well to begin calling him Draco." Harry waited, curious, but Snape didn't say anything further on the subject. He turned instead to Remus, and they awkwardly made small talk about Order business, while Harry waited impatiently for his turn to leave. When Harry looked up to say goodnight, however, a pointed look from Snape had him assuring Remus that he had a question for the professor and that he should go ahead. There was no doubt that Remus was fully aware of why Harry had offered, but he left, promising that he would be back the next morning.

When the door closed behind Remus, Harry turned to Snape warily, but the professor was clearing his own desk and paying no attention to Harry at all. Thoroughly confused, Harry sat in silence until enough time had passed that he could leave, then, grabbing his bag, he stood and headed for the door.

"Mr. Potter." He had his hand on the doorknob, but with a great deal of effort, Harry managed to refrain from hitting his head against the door in frustration. "Yes, sir?" he asked, turning slightly.

"You are aware that dreams are the vehicle by which the subconscious forces one to confront fears. If misuse of power is what you fear most about agreeing to bond, Harry, Draco did well to choose you."

AN: Amusingly, the times of the changing moon phases in Scotland in December 1997 actually did fall on the weekends – I looked it up.

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