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Here But For the Grace of Merlin	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. We make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Warnings: Angst, OOC, DH spoilers (minus Epilogue), language, violence, self-harm, drinking, slash, smut, non-con, BDSM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros and some other stupid companies. I make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Author’s Notes: Thanks go to my reviewers! I have to say special thanks go to Jokes for stepping in and helping me to get this looking so pretty! You rock my socks!

Chapter Sixteen — Home-grown Healers

When Bill and Fleur entered the parlour behind Draco and Hermione, Harry felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach. Tears began to well up in his eyes and his throat tightened up painfully. When Fleur’s pretty aqua eyes settled on him, her smile died on her face and she ran across the room, taking his head in her hands and staring at him. “Oh, ‘Arry, I ‘ave been so worreed about you. ‘Ow ‘ave you been? Why do you look like you weel cry?”

“Fleur, honey, let Harry breathe,” Bill said, tugging gently on the part-Veela’s arm. “Hey, Harry, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Hey, Bill,” Harry managed to say around the lump in his throat. “I’m glad that you decided to come here to the Manor.”

Bill looked over at both Malfoys and his smile dropped a few centimetres before he turned back to Harry. “Yeah, well, that’s a conversation for another time. I really wanted to see how you were, and once Fleur heard she’d been invited, it was a done deal. She refused to let me leave without her.”

“I was not letting you leef me at ‘ome while you went to see ‘Arry, Bill,” Fleur huffed, pushing Harry over so she could sit next to him on the window seat. The woman’s warmth and continued kindness made Harry’s mood lighten. He could even see Hermione and Draco smirking at him from their position behind Bill. Narcissa even seemed amused by the whole situation.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Narcissa said when Fleur was happily ensconced next to Harry. “Welcome to Malfoy Manor. I trust that you are doing well?”

“We’re fine, really, Mrs. Malfoy,” Bill said, obviously trying to mind his manners around the aristocratic blonde woman.

“I shall call Tizzy for tea, if you would like to discuss why you are here,” she said, ringing a bell that she pulled out of the pocket of her robes. Before long, the six of them were sitting around the lovely table in the middle of the room, each person having been served directly by Narcissa Malfoy herself. “I understand you have reservations about helping us with Lucius, Mr. Weasley.”

“That would be putting it nicely, Mrs. Malfoy,” Bill said, staring at a spot behind her.

“’E ‘as tried to teel me about zhis feud between zhe families,” Fleur said politely, giving both Draco and Narcissa a smile. “I admeet zhat I am confused on ‘ow it started.”

“I’m sure that each family has their own idea how the feud began,” Narcissa said, cutting off Draco before he could begin spouting off whatever rhetoric Lucius had drilled into his head. “That is not the point at this time. What I would like to do is secure your husband’s services to cure my own.”

“It was Harry’s idea that we use the Wizard’s Oath to end the feud between our families,” Draco said, frowning at his mother’s action.

I wish he wouldn’t do that, Harry thought absentmindedly. He looks so much better when he smiles. Like last night, when we were talking, before he mentioned that bloody debt. I wanted so desperately to–

“Really, Harry? That’s almost brilliant,” Hermione gushed, dragging Harry’s attention back to their conversation.

“Um, yeah, well, Bill’s the Weasley heir, such as it is, and Draco is definitely the Malfoy heir… And I just thought that we could use this as an opportunity to… I dunno, make things better? Bury the hatchet, and not in someone’s skull.”

“Since Lucius isn’t capable of making the decision about this, and I’m sure I could talk to Dad about it after it’s all said and done,” Bill said slowly, “what Draco and I decide would have to be followed by both sides.”

“That is true,” Narcissa said calmly. “There are complications, of course.”

“You mean Ron,” Bill stated flatly. There was no use from either family to deny that Ron would be the most affronted Weasley at any sort of truce between the two pureblood lines.

“He is a concern at this point in time,” Hermione said coolly. “Your brother isn’t really rational whenever the Malfoys are brought up in conversation.”

“My brozher-in-law is not zhe most rational person on a good day, sadly,” Fleur said before taking a sip of her tea. “I love ‘im, of course; ‘e is family. Zhere is not much zhat we can do to change ‘is mind.”

Harry snorted into his cup before taking his own sip. Fleur was being nice about the whole Ron situation. Her brother-in-law was a right git when it came to anything to do with something he didn’t like. He muttered under his breath, “No one can change Ron’s mind if he doesn’t want it. Stubborn prat.”

“Look, I’m not going to defend Ron’s behaviour, or George’s either,” Bill said, either ignoring Harry or he genuinely hadn’t heard him. “They’ve got their reasons for feeling the way that they do, and they’re entitled to feel that way. I’m not saying that they’re right, in the grand scheme of things. I just want everyone to know that I don’t begrudge them for their feelings. I want our families to stop fighting, however. It would go a long way if Lucius would apologize for nearly getting Ginny killed her first year at Hogwarts. I know that’s not going to happen now, but some sort of consideration would be nice.”

“Mr. Weasley, you and your family have my deepest sympathies and regret for Lucius giving your sister that diary,” Narcissa said warmly. “I doubt he really had any idea of what it was or what it would do. There was no indication that it was anything but a toy the Dark Lord had left in his care, and he wished to have your father investigated for having Dark Artefacts to stop the raids the Ministry insisted on having on the Manor.”

“Well, I guess that he just proved that they didn’t search hard enough, now didn’t he?” Bill asked, obviously angry at the lack of what he considered true remorse on the Malfoy matriarch’s part.

Harry looked over at Draco, and noticed that the blond was quiet, too quiet, and his lips were pulled into one long, white line. Two spots of colour were dusting his pale cheeks and his grey eyes were shiny with palpable anger. He’s going to explode if we don’t get this conversation moving into a different direction and fast. “Look, Bill, Narcissa and Draco can’t apologize for something Lucius is ultimately responsible for. It wouldn’t make sense. They’re not asking for any apologies for slights given to them by your family, and I don’t think it’s fair that you do the same, no matter what the offense is.”

“You’re right, Harry,” Bill said, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“No offence taken, Mr. Weasley,” she answered with a regal nod of her blonde head. “Now, we’ve returned to the crux of the situation. Would you be willing to reverse the miscast spell on my husband?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It took an hour for the negotiations for Weasley’s contract to complete, and by the end, Draco could see that Harry had checked out of the conversation. The dark-haired wizard wore such a look of quiet contemplation that if Draco hadn’t seen him with the same expression on his face back at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have recognised it. Sadly, he was familiar with that look when it came to Harry fighting with the Weasel. No, Ron Weasley, he told himself. If Harry wants me to bury the whole Weasel/Ferret argument, I had better try to do it in my mind as well.

“What are you thinking about, Malfoy?” Granger whispered as she leaned in closer to Draco.

“Truthfully, Granger, I’m thinking about your boyfriend,” he replied. He knew that he sounded just bored enough that it would pique her interest.

“Whatever for?” she asked, obviously shocked. If Draco hadn’t been so absorbed in his thoughts about Harry and the Weasley family, he might have taken enjoyment at the gobsmacked look on her face.

“Our mutual friend is thinking about him.”

Granger looked over at Harry and sighed. “He is. I wonder if he’s trying to figure out how soon it’s going to take Ron to hear about Bill and Fleur being here before he reacts.”

“Oh joy,” Draco groaned. “What is your opinion?”

“Truthfully, he’ll be here as soon as he finds out,” Granger answered promptly. “And he’ll be angry.”

“He’s always angry nowadays, isn’t he?” The blond turned over to look at the bushy-haired girl at his side. “That’s what I’ve gathered from talking to the two of you.”

“Harry’s told you what happened between him and the Weasleys then, hm?”

“Yes, and if I hadn’t had such a low opinion of them already, that conversation would have done the trick.”

“Look, Malfoy, I’m not best pleased with Ron myself right now, but Harry helped along the entire situation. He hasn’t yet told one person in the entire Weasley family why he wanted his space, and so they don’t understand.”

“Granger, the simple fact is that I don’t like Weasley. He doesn’t like me either.” Here, Draco affected an air of boredom by yawning theatrically. “That’s not the point, however. Harry and Weasley, and even the Weaslette to some extent, are what has become an issue. It is obvious that his rift with the Weasel has made him upset. The truth is that I doubt he will actually talk to me about what’s happened.”

“What has he told you, Malfoy?”

“That Weasley turned on him the second he thought Harry had overlooked his family, yet again, by testifying at the trials. That he felt pressured by Mrs. Weasley and the Weaslette to re-establish their former relationship and move it into marriage, quickly. That the grief he felt over the deaths of Professor Lupin, my cousin, the Weasley twin and the others was seen as false and he was simply told by others to “get over it”. That Percy Weasley took great pains to make sure that Harry knew that he was not a real member of the family and that he wasn’t welcomed by everyone.” Draco glared at the girl before him harshly. “He has told me enough to make my former contempt for the family just for being poor seem like great love. I didn’t think it was possible to think less of your boyfriend, but it appears that I was wrong.”

“He’s told you more than I thought he would in such a short amount of time,” Hermione mused as she ran a hand through her bushy curls.

“However, I am left wondering why, as you have been by his side for nearly every second that I’ve known the three of you in the Golden Trio, where you were when all this was going on? I’ve heard that you went to Australia soon after the trials, leaving him to Weasley’s mercy,” he whispered contemptuously.

“Yes,” she hissed, staring at him as if he was a bug. “I was in Australia, trying to remove the Memory Charms on my parents that I placed on them before seventh year for their own protection. They didn’t even know that they were English or that they had a daughter for months, nearly a whole year. You’re not the only one who had to do questionable things to protect their loved ones, Malfoy.” The force of the girl’s words was so strong that Draco felt as if he’d been smacked with them. He almost wished for the physical blow. At least then, he’d be able to justify the humiliated blush that stole over his face as Granger stomped over to Harry’s side.

No one seemed to notice their argument, as they were all absorbed in their silly dance of polite words and meaningless nothings. No one, except the owners of the greenest set of eyes Draco had ever met. God, Potter will be the end of me, I believe, he thought hotly. If it’s not his infuriating refusal to die, it’s his bloody ability to distract me beyond all else. I’m doomed.

However, the discussion with Granger was another piece of the puzzle about the three Gryffindors that he had to put into place, but the whole picture was taking a long time to form, as it appeared he was still missing information. That did not keep him from trying to gather what he did have into something that made sense. Evidently, the rift that ripped Harry and Weasley apart during the Tri-Wizard Tournament back in fourth year had never fully healed, on either side. Weasley still resented Harry for his fame. And Harry still hated Weasley’s unfounded jealousy. It was a situation that Draco would have loved to have had to exploit back at school. Now, it just made him tired.

No wonder Harry was so angry. He couldn’t imagine how weary of the entire situation that his new friend felt. It must have been extremely overpowering, especially if one considered what the three Gryffindors had endured during their time spent hunting down Voldemort’s defeat.

He could feel a familiar stare burning into his head, and Draco looked up to find shiny, green eyes staring at him intently. Suddenly, his mouth grew dry and he found it difficult to hear what anyone else in the room was saying over the pounding in his chest. A hand on his arm broke the connection, forcing him to stare at his mother in confusion. “What was that, Mother?” he asked, grimacing at the raspy quality of his voice.

“I was asking if you were ready to begin the Wizard’s Oath, darling,” Narcissa said coolly, only her eyes showing her true concern.

“No, not just this second,” he answered, standing up and moving away from his seat. “I promised Granger that I would show her to my lab. Besides, I believe that Harry would like to speak to the Weasleys privately.”

“Hm, yes, that might be wise,” Narcissa said, standing from her own seat. “I shall go check on your father and Jacobi in the meantime.” She brushed her soft lips against his cheek. “Do come and find me when you are ready.”

“Of course, Mother,” Draco said, watching as both Harry and Bill Weasley stood before his mother left the room. “Granger, if you would be so kind.” He held out his arm for her, determined not to shudder as she took it. Granger was a perfectly lovely woman, and she’d shown that she had manners that weren’t completely plebeian. Draco would prove to Harry and the eldest Weasley sibling that he had outgrown his father’s bigoted teachings. Or, at least, show that he could outgrow them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa wasn’t sure if she should be very angry or cry when Jacobi delivered his professional opinion about Lucius’s condition. “Please repeat that for me, Jacobi. I will need precise details when I speak to Draco and Mr. Weasley,” she said wearily.

“As well as the miscast Bedazzling Hex that the Aurors and Mindwillow discovered on Lucius, he’s also been graced with a horribly distorted Confundus, Narcissa,” the Healer said drily.

“What are the effects to be after this whole thing is cleared up?”

“To be honest, I have no idea if it will ever be cleared up completely,” Jacobi said, sitting in the chair next to his patient with a look of complete and total outrage on his face. “I knew that Mindwillow was being overly evasive while we were there.”

“What effects, Jacobi?” she asked harshly, pushing her fear down as far as she possibly could. Fear would not help her now.

“Optimistically speaking, there could be no side effects from this development.”

“You don’t believe that,” she said calmly.

“No, I’ll be honest with you, Narcissa. With the way the Magical Backlash has already affected Lucius physically by eating away at his memory centres, this can only do more harm. A Confundus, as you know, distorts the victims perception of what is reality. To someone is Lucius’s state, I worry about what we will see.”

“Worst case scenario, Healer?” She could hear this. She would listen to what Healer Jacobi had to say. She owed her husband of twenty-five years at least that much, surely. “Say that we heal Lucius of the two spells. What should we expect to see?”

“In all truth, I can only hypothesise that he would revert back to when he was active with the Dark Lord,” Narcissa nearly sobbed then, but Jacobi continued, “the first time.”

“Oh, dear Merlin,” she whispered. Her plans for Draco’s happiness might all fall to pieces with this news. Not to mention the danger to Harry. If I am forced to make a decision in this matter, it will not bode well for someone I love. “And if we do nothing?”

“Narcissa, surely you aren’t suggesting that we–”

“And if we do nothing?” she asked again with more force.

“If we leave Lucius as he is, the combined spells will painfully start to leech his remaining magic, causing him to slowly become a Squib in the most painful way imaginable. He would go completely insane before the Magical Backlash took all of his memories. It would be necessary for him to be sent to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s permanently, or you would have to open up the North Tower of the Manor.”

Wonderful, she thought hatefully. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate with those two boys running around, being ignorant fools. “When does the decision need to be made?”

“Before we allow Mr. Weasley access to Lucius, of course.” The Healer ran a hand through his lank hair and Narcissa felt a pang of sympathy for the man.

It must not have been easy to work for both Lucius and Abraxas while delivering bad news. I fear that I must spare him the ill-placed wrath of my son. Narcissa stood up straight before she steeled herself for what was necessary. “I will explain the situation to Draco, Reginald,” she said gently, using the name’s first name for the first time in years. “Call one of the elves if you require something before I return. I shall have Manky deliver you some tea while you wait.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” the plump man said, nearly slumping down into the chair next to Lucius’s bed.

“Needs must,” she whispered to herself before going off in search of her beloved child.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry nearly laughed as he watched the Malfoys vacate their own parlour to allow him time to catch up with Bill and Fleur. Nearly, because a part of him still wanted to weep at the situation he found himself in. He’d listened and tried to digest everything that Hermione and Narcissa had said to him over the course of the day about why he felt the way he did, but if even what they’d said was true… No, he couldn’t hope like that. He would not assume something about other people again. The last time he’d done that, Snape had died as an enemy. Really, nothing he wanted to repeat again, and definitely not with the infuriating blond.

Things with Draco would proceed as they would. Nothing that anyone said or did would change that.

However, the fact that he had to keep repeating that to himself as he watched the former Slytherin leave the parlour with Hermione on his arm stung something awful.

“Harry?” Bill said, grabbing the black-haired wizard’s attention between bouts of yelling at himself mentally. It was obviously not the first time he’d called Harry’s name, if the look of worry in the older man’s face was anything to go by.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?” the redhead said, waving his arm around the beyond opulent room they sat in with Fleur.

“Have you heard of a debt of honour?” Harry asked offhandedly. Really, who better to ask than Bill and Fleur if he still wasn’t sure about the whole ordeal?

“Of course, it’s really Old Magic, only called into play when something drastic has happened to a family and an individual,” Bill answered, obviously confused as to where this conversation was going.

“It is very rare, if I remember, non?” Fleur added, her accent getting lighter as her concentration became focused upon something. “I zhink zhat zhere ‘as only been one instance of it being used in my family.”

“What happened?” Harry asked; his interest was piqued with this bit of information.

“It was between one of my ‘uman ancestors and a ‘alf-Veela,” Fleur said. “On my fahzher’s side, of course, many centuries ago. Of course, zhe man owned the debt wanted zhe beeootiful woman to be ‘is wife. Zhey were verry ‘appy after zhe wedding. Many powerful enfants came from zhe union.”

“Typical,” Harry muttered. “Is it always the case that the person owned the assistance marries into the family of the debt?”

“Not that I can recall,” Bill answered this time. “However, there are benefits of keeping magic that strong within the two families on either side of that kind of debt. Any children of the union tend to be much more powerful magically, as Fleur mentioned in her own family’s history.” Bill’s sharp blue eyes looked Harry up and down until he felt naked. “You don’t owe a debt like that, do you, Harry?”

“No, of course not,” Harry answered, feeling annoyed. “Malfoy owes me two life debts and his dad owes me one as well. Since Lucius is pretty much mensus non capus, Draco’s head of the family now.”

“Oh, yes, zhat would fall under zhe boundaries of zhe debt of ‘onour,” Fleur murmured. “Zhat is why you are ‘ere, yes?”

“Yes, partially,” Harry said, his annoyance draining away almost instantly, leaving him a little listless. “I was being hounded by reporters, and other people, at the hospital, so Narcissa and Draco offered me shelter here at Malfoy Manor until I was ready to face the world again.”

“I’d ask what’s in it for them, but if Malfoy owes you a debt of honour, I already know the answer,” Bill said. “How’d Hermione get dragged into this mess then?”

“Ron wrote to her in Australia about my behaviour towards him and Ginny. I guess he was hoping she’d come back and guilt me into returning to the fold. When it didn’t work, he accused her and me of having an affair behind his back during the year we were out searching for those artefacts of Voldemort’s. That’s the last I’ve heard about your brother, to be honest.”

“You’re joking, yeah?”

“I wish,” Harry muttered. “Look, Bill, he’s your brother, and nothing’s going to change that, but I’d rather not talk about him.”

“Harry, I’ve been looking into that Magical Backlash theory that’s been going around since the Battle of Hogwarts,” Bill said, taking Fleur’s nearest hand in his own as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. “If I have my Muggle terms right, it’s a mixture of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, severe depression, and fevered magic.”

“Fevered magic?” Harry stared at the man who he considered like family, waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, yes, you wouldn’t have heard of that before, since it’s not really a common thing here in England. I saw it a lot in Egypt because of all the old magic lacing the pyramids and the other ancient ruins.” The Curse Breaker waited for Harry to nod in understanding before continuing. “Well, what happens is that a witch or wizard gets an overload on foreign magic and it begins battling their own, making it difficult to control and leading to accidental magic problems. From what I understand, the severity of this Magical Backlash depends on how close to the Dark Lord one was, not only physically at the Battle, but also magically.

“Since you had the strongest connection with him through your scar and shared history, you got a huge dose of it. If any of the Death Eaters that were made around the time of Lucius Malfoy’s induction to his ranks and were constantly surrounded by him as he wielded his magic in the last year of his life, they’d be just as affected as Lucius himself.”

“My Healer at St. Mungo’s tried to explain something like that to me when I was there, but she never bothered going into detail,” Harry said.

“Well, she wouldn’t, would she? It would ruin her pet theory before she’s had a chance to publish her findings.”

“She did say that being around people who evoke strong emotions or being out of the country for a bit would dispel some of the symptoms. That was why I was really grateful for the offer the Malfoys extended.”

“You are zhinking zhis is zhe case because of ‘Ermione?” Fleur asked innocently.

“That’s what Healer Sharpe suggested. Said she wanted to do some tests and talk to Hermione privately, before she insulted both me and Draco in the next breath,” Harry answered. “So, she never got to find out if she was right or not.”

“Hm, well, Jacobi’s a good sort of bloke and a decent Healer, Harry,” Bill said thoughtfully. “He works with a co-worker’s family, so I have the benefit of hearing about him from time to time. I’d suggest that while you have him at your disposal that you take the opportunity to speak to him.”

“You mean like Muggle therapy?”

“I couldn’t hurt, Harry. I might help you deal with all the trauma you’ve suffered in the last few years and before that too, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Can we not talk about them? I don’t think I want Narcissa and Draco to know what happened to me before Hogwarts and during summer holidays. I don’t want their pity, and I don’t know if they could be kept under control and not murder them viciously.”

“So, you don’t totally think them beyond violence?” Bill asked archly.

“No one’s beyond violence,” Harry said flatly. “I’ve attacked Draco as much as he’s attacked me, and I used the Unforgivables during the war.”

“We all did things that were distasteful during that year, Harry,” Bill said, trying to placate the dark-haired wizard. “There are a few things I wish I could take back, really.”

“Zhis is always zhe case during war,” Fleur said brightly, giving both men a sweet smile. “Now, shall I share wizh you my good nooz?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco led Granger to his private potions lab on the second floor, allowing her to enter before him. He could almost see the room through her eyes as she looked over his equipment and stores. The room was the opposite of the Potions classroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts. The walls were of a delicate, pale cream stone, with windows taking up the outside wall from floor to ceiling. The floors were of a black volcanic rock, guaranteed to stand up to the heat of any explosions or spilled experiments. The door to the store room was open, letting them see that it was as big as the student stores of Snape’s classroom, and better stocked. In the centre of the room stood three brewing stations, all gleaming brightly as the weak winter sun reflected off the cauldrons and utensils.

“This is…brilliant, Malfoy,” she breathed as she continued to stare at the room’s contents.

“Thank you, Granger,” he said, making sure to keep the door to the rest of the Manor open. No need for anyone to assume that I’ve brought her here to do anything…untoward. He suppressed a shudder before stepping farther into the lab. “I had this put together after first year, with Severus’s instructions.”

“I always thought he rather fit the rooms in the dungeons at Hogwarts,” she said.

“Yes, even his home at Spinner’s End was rather dank and dark, Mother assures me.”

“It was difficult in sixth year to see him in a room with windows, such as they were. I was so used to him being in the dungeons, surrounded by darkness, that it was nearly impossible to wrap my mind around him existing outside of his regular classroom.”

The mention of their sixth year made Draco flinch. It wasn’t a time he liked to recall. Neither was seventh year, but Granger must have known that the topic wasn’t up for discussion as she moved over to the work stations.

“Malfoy, about Harry…” She licked her lips nervously as she stared hard at the prescriptions he’d left before the centre brewing station. “He’s really just very confused right now. I’m sure if you give him time, he’ll come to his decision. He needs to brood about it first.”

“Can we not discuss this, Granger?” he asked, feeling raw about the entire topic of Harry, the debt of honour, and what would happen to his family. “I’d like to take samples of the potions that Madam Pomfrey gave you so that we can go from there.” He moved over to one of the overflowing bookshelves that lined the wall opposite of the storeroom. “I have a list ready for you to take shopping as well.”

“Oh, good,” she said, taking the subtle hint for the dismissal it was. She pulled her bag out again and began taking out multiple potions. “These are the potions that Healer Sharpe assigned Harry, and you should make sure that he receives them every morning until they’re not needed.”

“I do know how these potions work, Granger,” he drawled lazily. The girl blushed and opened her mouth to say something, but a throat clearing from the doorway had both teens looking up to find Narcissa in the doorway, appearing paler than normal. “Mother, is something the matter?”

“Draco, I need to speak to you in private, if you will,” his mother said quietly, giving them a rather sickly smile that had the short hairs on the back of Draco’s neck standing on in.

“Oh, well, I’ll just take that list and go get what’s needed, shall I?” Granger rambled, snatching up the list and practically running from the room to give the two Malfoys privacy.

Finally alone, Narcissa closed the door as she entered Draco’s lab completely. “I’ve just come from speaking to Jacobi, dear, and it’s far worse than we imagined.”

“How badly?” Draco asked, trying very hard to keep his voice level and disinterested.

“There are two outcomes. We can do nothing, and Lucius would either need to be admitted to St. Mungo’s as a permanent resident or he’d be locked in the North Tower until the inevitable.”

“And the other?”

“He would be what he once was, but worse.”

That makes no sense. Surely if he were to return to what he once was that would be a great thing. Then I could pass along the head of family back to him and the debt of honour would disappear. Harry would be saved from this decision that he finds so obviously distasteful to his delicate Gryffindor sensibilities. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mother. Wouldn’t that–”

“No, love, what he once was, before the Dark Lord’s first defeat.” The fear in his mother’s voice was so obvious that Draco couldn’t avoid what it was she was saying.

“He would–”

“Yes.”

“But with Harry–” Draco paled at the very thought. Harry would be…Oh, dear, sweet Merlin!

“Exactly.” Narcissa sank into the velvet settee by one of the large windows and put a shaking hand to her forehead. “We have a decision to make, Draco. Rather, you do, as head of the Malfoy family. Do we allow him to be cured or not?”

TBC

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Here But For the Grace of Merlin