Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Every Wolf's Bane	By : blade-of-the-shadows Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 29234 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from Harry Potter, all credit goes to Rowling and I do not make any profit from this fanfic

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Another two months passed with relative peace. After talking a bit more, and settling a few things, Fenrir made sure to show Harry more affections, the two having almost as much ‘alone time’ as they did before the pups were born. They even got through the ‘third month scare’, as Harry had began to call it, without any arguing or fighting.
Harry was well aware of what happened to all of the pups from Fenrir’s previous mates before him. None of the poor things made it past their third month, which explained Fenrir’s sudden over protectiveness of the pups when they neared their third months and all throughout.
Fenrir went absolutely anal about the pups’ health. He made sure they were fed on time, were bathed often enough, got enough sleep at night, and any other thing he could think of. He even had the entire pack sterilize the whole house once a week, and no one save himself and Harry could touch the pups.
It was endearing and a little cute, but Harry had gotten fed up enough when his wolf instincts decided they wanted to come out. It was irrational, but Harry felt as if Fenrir was comparing him to the others before him just a bit too much. Even though he knew that Fenrir was only doing this simply because the repeated experience had became too much and a deep-seated fear settled into his heart, that the man wanted their pups to survive, he still felt as if Fenrir thought of him as incapable. All the other’s pups were born either sickly or generally weak, whereas Harry’s hadn’t, and he felt that the precautions Fenrir was taking were unnecessary.
Of course, he kept this to himself because the more rational part of his mind told him it was a horrible idea to bring it up. Then his instincts settled down and the ‘scare’ eventually passed and Fenrir calmed down. Fenrir’s relief had been so great, in fact, that they ended up having the best sex they had since Harry’s first heat. And that made him very happy that he hadn’t went and nagged Fenrir.
Now, Harry’s only concern was Voldemort.
The snake-faced man had been quiet. Too quiet in Harry’s opinion. Fenrir was lax about the issue; the man had, as he said he would, sent Emile and Michal to Knockturn for warding charms. Once he assured that Harry and the pups were safe enough, he took it upon himself to go hunt down warding charms of higher quality. While Harry was grateful of his mate for doing so, he refused to relax. He had done so before, and that resulted in his soul getting sucked straight from his body.
He went ahead and did a little research. Living in the manor of which housed generations upon generations of Blacks had its benefits. The library had an impressively extensive amount of books on any type of dark magic available. Harry, along with a bored and irritated Draco, had spent many a long hours digging through the library, trying to find some sort of explanation for what happened to Harry. He knew it was a ritual, but which one? Was it blood magic? Or was Voldemort’s blood just a bit of extra to make the ritual more potent? There were so many unanswered questions, and Harry was determined to have them answered. He did not want his pups to be in any type of danger.
A part of Harry’s research was a way to defeat Voldemort. He knew very well that he had no possible way of defeating Voldemort—not with only five and a half years of magical education (not counting the year of Umbrige), no wand, and the unfortunate occurrence of being a werewolf, which made it harder to use wizard magic as weres were naturally repellant to it—and he knew that the only way he was going to be able to defeat the madman was with outside help.
“Harry…why don’t you use…whatever it is when you heat up the pups bottle, or when you used to hide your scars?”
As what was beginning to become the usual, Harry and Draco were in the dusty library, surrounded by books. The blonde was reclining on a conjured, plush lounge chair, holding a glass of orange juice—Harry found it hilariously ironic that Draco’s main cravings were Muggle foods—in one hand, and twirling a quill in the other. Harry was sitting at a desk, staring in mental exhaustion and irritation at the messy pile of books and scribbled-on parchment in front of him. At Draco’s words, his gaze flicked up to the blonde and he sat p with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“No, no, no. I don’t…know exactly how I use that magic. All I know is that it’s not wizard magic. It’s something else, entirely.”
“How can you tell?”
“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It’s just the way it feels. The way I use it. Half the time, I only can use it when I’m distressed. The other half of the time is by accident.”
Draco sipped his juice. “But you can always use it for whatever purpose that caused you the distress afterwards, right”
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s a matter of willing, right?” Draco arched a brow. “Grab that paper, close your eyes, and think about whatever it is you do when you try to warm a bottle.”
Sighing heavily, Harry did as Draco asked. He didn’t understand what the blonde was saying, but he might as well give it a try. What did he think about when he made the pups bottles? He…didn’t really think about it. It just happened. But there had to be something.
He knew that the bottle had to be warmed. His pups couldn’t have cold milk, or else it would give them a stomach ache. It was just…instinctual. But if he did have to think about it…he would jus focus on…warming it? So would he have to…think about setting the parchment on fire?
“Harry!”
His eyes snapped open at Draco’s shocked outburst. He followed the blonde’s gaze down to the parchment, of which was smoldering where his fingertips touched it. As he watched, the smoke slowly dissipated, and the parchment fell out of his grip as part of it turned to ash.
“What the…” He looked up and met Draco’s gaze.
Draco arched a brow. “What were you thinking about?”
“Well…” Harry bit his lip. “At first, I was thinking about how I warmed the pups bottles, and then I thought about setting the parchment on fire.”
“Do it again.” Draco sat up. “Grab another parchment and think about it again.”
Harry was quicker to comply this time, grabbing the nearest parchment and thinking hard about setting it on fire. This time, the whole thing set aflame, and he dropped it with a sharp curse. It crumbled to ash even as it fell to the table.
“Well, I was right.” Draco snorted.
The door sudden burst open, and Fenrir and Michal rushed in panicky, followed by Emile and Remus. They went to their respective mates and in perfect synchronicity said,
“I felt you panic, what happened?”
Eyes wide, Harry and Draco locked eyes before laughing loudly. That one moment had to be the only time in history Fenrir and Michal ever did something similar. The two were just too different.
“What’s so funny?” Fenrir grumbled, pulling his mate to his feet.
Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s funny, and nothing happened. Well, not exactly.”
“Show him, Harry.” Draco snorted out, still laughing.
Grinning lightly, Harry grabbed another parchment—he really should stop, he was destroying his notes—and set it aflame with a mere thought. Fenrir blinked at the flaming paper, and then gave him an unimpressed look.
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?” Harry dropped the paper as the flame ate at it and turned it into ash. “Magic, Fen.”
Fenrir gave him a droll look. “No fuckin’ duh.”
“No, magic. I can use I can use magic to defeat Voldemort.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? What the hell, Fenrir?” Harry frowned at his mate.
The man shrugged. “I just thought it was somethin’ serious.”
Everyone else began to back out of the room as the air suddenly thickened and heated. It didn’t take a genius to realize the two were more than likely about to have a big fight. The two Alpha’s didn’t take notice.
“What do you mean serious? This is serious. I can finally defeat Voldemort!” Harry exclaimed.
Fenrir rolled his eyes. “So what? You can’t just run in there relyin’ on this…magic you found and expect to win.”
“I’m not an idiot, Fenrir. Obviously there are a lot of things that still have to be planned out, like how this is going to go, back up plans, where to go afterwards…”
“I dunno about this, Harry…”
“Why are you so against this? Don’t you want Voldemort gone?”
“Of course I do—.”
“Don’t you want our pups to be safe?”
“Yes—.”
“Don’t you want me to be safe?”
“Harry—.”
“Don’t you?”
Fenrir growled, picking Harry up and setting him on the desk, effectively shutting him up with a glare. “Shut up and listen to me. Yes, I want you and the pups safe. That is, and always will be, my first priority. But we both know how Voldemort is. We know how dangerous and sly that bastard is. I know how excited you are about findin’ a solution, Harry, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. What if this magic of yours is simply platonic? What if you can’t do a damn thing against Voldemort? I don’t want to die because that magic was faulty.”
Harry looked down, chastised by the points Fenrir was bringing up. His mate was right. He was definitely rushing too fast into this, raising his hopes just a bit too high. Just because he found a solution doesn’t make it the only, or best, one. There was a sigh above his head, and he was suddenly enveloped in Fenrir’s arms, his face pressing into his mate’s chest.
“I don’ mean to put you down, pup. I just want you to think about this a little more.”
“Since when were you the thinker in this relationship?” Harry snorted.
“I’m the thinker when I want to be. But don’t make me do this too much. I prefer being stupid.”
“Stop calling yourself stupid, Fenrir.” Harry scolded automatically. If he had a Knut for every time his mate called himself stupid or retarded…
Fenrir rumbled out a laugh. “Sure thing, pup.”
Harry pulled back and stared up at his mate. “Fenrir, can we go to America?”
“America?” Fenrir arched a brow. “What’s with this all of a sudden?”
“It’s not sudden.” Harry looked down and began to play with the hem of Fenrir’s shirt. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I don’t want our pups growing up in an environment that’s biased against, well…everything. Especially biased about us. According to the media, you’re a bloodthirsty monster that eats little kids and I’m some supposed superhero who evidently has the ability to save everyone’s asses. And then there’s the prejudice against Dark creatures. I want our pups to go to school, to have an education and be able to experience life. I want them to be able to go out and do as they like, with no fear.”
“Harry?”
Their eyes locked. “I don’t want Mason, Jon, or Rayne to go through any type strife because of who they are. Nor do I want our new pups to go through it either.”
“New pups?” Fenrir’s eyes mirrored his confusion, and then suddenly widened with realization. “You’re…?”
“I’m pregnant.” Harry bit his lip.
Fenrir whooped, grabbing Harry around the waist and lifting him into the air. They spun around the room, until Harry got dizzy. His mate set him down on his feet, then leaned down to kiss him soundly on the lips. Harry got into the kiss quickly, arching into Fenrir with a moan, but the man pulled away before things got too heated.
“Your last heat was two weeks ago, so I’m guessin’…?”
“Yup. I’m two weeks along. I had Draco do a diagnostic spell when one morning I almost threw up when I smelled coffee.”
“Coffee?” Fenrir winced. “Is that why you’ve been moody? No caffeine and crazy hormones?”
Harry scowled. “I have not been moody.”
“You threw Mason’s bottle across the room yesterday and nearly knocked Jake out with it because you accidentally made his formula too thick and it wouldn’t come out the nipple.”
“It’s time we started giving them baby food anyway.”
“Oh, really?” Fenrir arched a brow. “And when did you decide this?”
“…Yesterday.”
Fenrir snorted. “Okay, okay. I’ll send Emile and Remus later today. Those two need some ‘alone time’ anyway.”
Harry threw his hands up. “I thought I was the only one who noticed. The sexual tension between those too couldn’t be cut with a chainsaw.”
“Chain…saw?” Fenrir’s brow scrunched.
“Uh…it’s a Muggle thing.”
“Muggles…” Fenrir frowned thoughtfully. “You know, if we moved to America, we’d have to move in a large area that’s not surrounded by Muggles, right?”
“Oh, no worries. Between the Potter and Black estates, I’m pretty sure I have some inhabited land somewhere in America. And if I don’t then I can damn well buy some land.”
Fenrir’s frown deepened. “I feel like I’m the woman in our relationship.”
“Why? Because I provide everything for us?” Harry snorted. “At least I don’t act like woman, unlike Draco. He acts effeminate and he has more money in his vaults than he can do with. Michal probably shits bricks every time Draco goes and buys everything he wants.”
“He has all his vaults, right? Because Lucius died?”
“Yup, though he has yet to claim his Lordship. As a matter of fact, I have to do that too.” He sighed. “Two Lordships, what the hell am I going to do with those?”
“Bet yer happy I ain’t one of those pureblood brats, huh?” Fenrir smirked, causing Harry to scoff.
“At least they could provide for me and my pups.”
His tone was clearly joking and Fenrir picked up on it immediately, growling playful at Harry. The raven giggled lightly and stood on his tippy toes to kiss his mate lovingly.
“You know you’re the only one for me, Fen.”
“I better be.” Fenrir grumbled. “I’ll skin anyone who tries to do anything to you.”
Harry smiled. “See, Fen? You do just enough for me and your babies. You love and protect us. That’s all you need to do. Sit back and let me take care of you, okay?”
Fenrir shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I don’t know what to do with you, Harry Potter.”
~oOo~
Getting the pups to switch from formula to baby food was murder. Jon wanted both, Mason would only eat the pureed fruits and mushed cereal Harry had to make by hand because he refused anything that came in the little baby jars, and Rayne refused absolutely anything that wasn’t milk.
Draco would be laughing at his situation, if it wasn’t for the fact that the blonde was going through his own troubles. Just as Fenrir did to Harry, Michal had taken to carrying Draco everywhere, or shadowing behind the blonde when he managed walk around after forcing Michal to let him go. Draco was just as thin as Harry was, and therefore his pregnant belly was just as obvious as the raven’s had been. And, just like it happened with Harry, apparently all the dominate males in the household suddenly grew into the belief that submissives were weak, though all of them had their fair share of fearful moments when either one of them was angry.
Harry relished in Draco’s pain, as the blonde had done to him. He had been waiting for this day since Draco got pregnant. Now the blonde knew exactly how horrible of a mood Harry had been in with everyone treating him like spun glass, especially as his pregnancy furthered. Not that Harry could tease the blonde too much, considering that he would be in the same predicament in just three scant months.
The pack was already in an uproar with him being pregnant again. The only one who hadn’t been surprised was Draco, and only because the blonde was the one Harry had asked to do the diagnostic spell on him. Everyone was generally happy for the two Alpha’s, until the twins brought up the matter of space.
While Grimmauld place was a large manor, the pack already filled a little more than half of it, bedroom wise. And then there was Mason, Jon and Rayne who would all need their own rooms when they got older. Then there were Draco’s pups. Even though it was estimated that the blonde would have three since he was about the same size Harry was when he was four months along, they could only guess how many the blonde would have. With Harry pregnant again with an unknown number of pups, with the manor was already too small with Draco’s upending pups, the need for a bigger place was becoming immediate.
Which was why Harry and Draco were currently on their way to Gringotts. It was about time the settled their Lordships. Usually, one would go to the Ministry’s Department of Lordships for that, but since the both of them were trying to stay under the radar, Harry was pulling a few strings with the goblins to make this happen.
Since they were werewolves, glamours wouldn’t work, and they had to resort to the Muggle way of disguises. Draco had grumbled about it till Harry reminded the blonde that they had to do this, and that he was already consuming Muggle foods so what difference did it make.
Now the two were dressed in black robes with the hoods up, and the wigs and colored contacts Harry had Remus buy from a Muggle store. If no one looked closely enough, the two could pass as women with considerably flat-chests, one of which was just budding with pregnancy. Now, Harry was a hazel-eyed woman with dark chestnut brown hair and, Draco was a blue-eyed woman with sandy brown-blonde hair, the both of them with bangs long enough to cover most of their face.
Emile, being Harry’s unsaid bodyguard, was chosen to go along with them. Lance opted to also go along, for extra security he had given for a reason, though everyone knew the man just wanted to get out of the house.
The trip to Diagon Alley had been simple. All they had to do was Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and go through the back, to the brick wall of which was an entryway to Diagon Alley. The hard part proved to be getting through the crowds without attracting attention. Harry and Draco turned out to be very pretty women, and the both of them had presences that demanded all to focus on them—Harry because he was an Alpha, and Draco simply because it was the way he was raised. It was lucky that Emile and Lance, the pack’s two strongest fighters after Fenrir, were with them as the large men kept anyone else from nearing them.
Then they were in Gringotts and both Harry and Draco immediately shifted into business mode. Their backs straightened and their stride smoothened and theirs gaze hardened. It didn’t come as a surprise to Emile and Lance, having witnessed the two submissives clearly state their dominance with a mere change of stance, but the small amount of wizards and witches inside were shocked into awe at the sudden change.
Harry’s chin rose as he stopped in front of the teller, a goblin wearing a simple golden chain whose face immediately shifted into a nasty scowl. Arching a brow, Harry leaned closer to the teller.
“A dragon’s treasure is his alone.” He murmured cryptically.
The teller’s eyes bulged and the goblin swallowed. “May death befall those who disobey. If you will follow me please, Mr. Potter sir.”
“Thank you.” Harry smiled slightly. “My companions will also come along.”
“Very good sir.” The goblin nodded frantically, jumping from his chair and gesturing for Harry to follow as he scuttled off down a hall.
Draco arched a brow as they began to follow the goblin. “Do I want to know what just happened?”
“Ironfist knew I was coming in disguise, and therefore set up a secret message of which only a select few goblins knew. That is why I went to the teller in the farthest corner.”
“Ironfist?” Draco frowned. “He is in charge of the Malfoy vaults.”
Harry snorted. “He, apparently, is in charge of the Potter and Black vaults also. How coincidental, don’t you agree?”
“Indeed.”
The goblin stopped in front of two very elegantly designed doors, bowing low as he gestured for Harry to enter. Harry nodded and smiled at the goblin.
“May I ask your name?”
“My…?” The goblin blinked in surprise. “My name is Steelgrip, Mr. Potter sir.”
“May your gold always flow, Steelgrip.” Harry said, entering the room before the shocked goblin could respond.
Another goblin sat behind a very large desk, though he was clearly a high level than Steelgrip, going by the gold that dripped from his fingers and neck. Goblins were ranked by the amount of gold they were allowed to wear. This goblin in particular was Ironfist. Harry bowed deeply to the goblin, who stood and bowed just as deeply in return. The two smiled at each other when they straightened.
“Harry Potter, it is good to see you, old friend.” Ironfist said sincerely.
“The feeling is mutual, Ironfist.”
Ironfist gestured towards the chairs. “Please, have a seat. There is much to be discussed.”
“Indeed.” Harry sat in a comfy armchair, followed a moment later by Draco. Emile and Lance opted to stand behind their chairs. “Would you like to begin with pleasantries, or get straight to it?”
“Ah, yes. How is your mate?”
“Fenrir is great. He has gotten better at given the boys a bit more attention, but his focus is still slightly dominated by our daughter. It’s okay though, I can deal with it.”
“Mason, Jon, and Rayne, yes? How are they?”
Harry grinned. “Amazing. They are growing so fast. I can’t wait until they start walking. But enough of me, how is Nimblefingers?”
A grin split Ironfist’s face in half. “She is pregnant.”
“Is she? How wonderful! Your first right? How far along is she?”
“Almost a month in.” If possible, Ironfist’s smile grew.
“That is wonderful.” Harry gestured to Draco. “Draco here is also pregnant, though he’s already four months in.”
Draco snorted. “Pay me no mind. Harry you are also pregnant.”
Ironfist’s eyes widened. “Once again? How lucky it must be to be so fertile.”
Harry put his hand on his still flat stomach. “Yes. I would love nothing more than to have a big family. as big as it can possibly grow.”
“Hmm, it would certainly help if you had access to all your vaults, would it not Mr. Potter?” Ironfist cleared his throat and gathered a few stacks of paper on his desk. “I understand that you are here to claim your Lordship, both of you, yes?”
“Yes. And also an account of all our assents.” Harry added.
“Mmm, you must first become a Lord before that occurs.” Ironfist smirked. “Let’s start, then.”
The goblin did some tricky hand movements, and two wicked looking daggers followed by two small red clay bowls and three crystal phials filled with a strange, silver liquid appeared on the table. He shifted some papers until he pulled out three in particular, and then grabbed the three small black boxes that were beside him. Another complicated swish of Ironfist’s hand caused two completely black, sinister looking, feathers that Harry recognized as blood quills to appear. Then Ironfist’s gaze returned to them, switching back and forth between the two.
“Who will begin first?”
Draco straightened. “I will as I only have one Lordship to claim.”
“Very well.” Ironfist grabbed one of the quills and one of the parchments, handing them both to Draco. “If you will sign along the dotted line please?”
Lips tightening as he took the blood quill, Draco signed his name with a quick flourish. He grimaced as his name appeared in his handwriting along the back of his hand, blood welling and spilling across his skin. Ironfist nodded in approval, taking back the parchment and setting the blood quill on fire. He caught Harry’s surprised look.
“It is illegal for anyone to share blood quills. As you know, your essence is in your blood, therefore leaving residue that not even the strongest spells can get rid of, and it would not bode well for anyone should the blood of two separate people mix accidental. Especially when signing legal documents such as this.”
“Oh.” Harry looked down with a frown. He certainly hoped that Umbridge hadn’t forced anyone else to share the same quill as he did. Or else who knows what ties he might have to anyone because of the bloodsharing.
Ironfist continued on, grabbing a dagger and clay bowl. He set the bowl in front of Draco, and then looked at the blonde questioningly.
“Would you prefer I do the bloodletting, or would you like to do it yourself?”
Draco eyed the dagger then grimaced, holding out his palm for Ironfist to take. The goblin made quick work of slashing Draco’s skin, quickly turning the blonde’s hand over and therefore allowing the stream of blood to spill steadily into the bowl. When it was halfway full, Ironfist muttered something in Gobbledygook and Draco’s hand was healed.
The goblin then upturned one of the crystal phials into Draco’s blood and then dipped one long nail into the water, muttering once again in Gobbledygook. Then he opened one of the boxes, which turned out to be holding a chunky-looking rock, and dropped the ring into the liquid mixture. A moment passed, then silver words began to form:
Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy of the Most Ancient and Noble Malfoy House
Suddenly, the words faded and the mixture began to disappear, draining from the bowl as if there was a hole in the bottom. When it was gone, there was nothing left but the rock Ironfist had dropped into it, though it was different. No longer was it a chunk of silver but an elegant-looking ring made of silver. It was an interesting ring, designed in such a way to look like a silver snake wrapping itself around one’s finger, its sapphire blue eye glinting up at you knowingly.
Ironfist plucked the ring out of the bowl and handed it to Draco, who took it with a slight frown.
“I do not remember my father’s Lordship ring to look like this…”
“That is because every time an heir comes into his Lordship, a new ring is fashioned every time to best suit its holder. You are a different man from Lucius Malfoy, therefore your ring is going to be of a different type. Though I must say the snake was not unexpected. Every Malfoy ring since the first has had a snake somehow in their ring.”
Draco swallowed slightly and slipped the ring on his finger. Then he gasped lightly and grasped his left shoulder. Harry sat up in alarm, but was waved down by Draco, who rolled his shoulder and sighed.
“It is nothing but my Lordling mark activating.”
Harry frowned. “Lordling mark?”
“Ugh, I forget you know nothing of pureblood customs.” Draco sighed. “A Lordling mark is something that every child of a Lord is born with. It is the same mark passed down through generations of Lords and Lordlings. The Malfoy Lordling mark greatly resembles a quill and can be found on the left shoulder of any and every Malfoy that has ever existed, for example, and when my children are born they will have the same mark. When a child is born, the Lordling mark is hardly noticeable as it will closely match the color of the child’s skin. When the child claims its Lordship, the Lordling mark while darken considerably, which means it has been activated.”
“I don’t have a Lordling mark.” Harry frowned. “And neither do the pups.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. More than likely you either didn’t notice it or passed it off as a birth mark or skin blemish. And your pups don’t have it because you were not a Lord when they were born. More than likely they will develop one once you claim your Lordship.”
“And I would appreciate it greatly if we could get to that please?” Ironfist said with an arched brow.
Harry flushed. “Of course, our apologies Ironfist.”
The goblin snorted and grabbed the other two parchments at his side, and the blood quill, handing it all to Harry. “Sign the dotted line, please.”
Pushing back the memories that surfaced when he grabbed the quill, Harry gritted his teeth and wrote his full name on both the parchments. Once he was done, he all but shoved the quill back at Ironfist. He saw Draco shoot him a look from his peripheral, but opted to ignore it. Ironfist, knowing of Harry’s situation when it came to blood quills, took it all in stride.
Like with, the goblin drew Harry’s blood and allowed it to fill the bowl halfway before healing the wound and filling the rest of the bowl with the silver liquid. But this time, however, he opened both of the other two boxes and dropped two rocks into the mixture. Two separate lines of words formed as a result:
Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble Potter House
Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble Black House
Then the liquid was drained once again, and two rings were left in the empty bowl. One was obviously the Potter ring, as it was a bright gold lion standing on its hind legs and roaring, its ruby eye shining fiercely, with a thin band coming from either side to secure the lion to one’s finger. The Black was rather ironic, with the ring being black, and was otherwise a delicate twine of wrought vines that twisted around one’s finger.
Harry followed Draco’s lead when Ironfist handed him the rings, placing his Potter ring on his right ring finger and, making a split decision, placing the Black ring on his left ring finger. Almost immediately, a burning sensation broke out in two places; one on his hip and the other just under his collar bone. He cried out and curled into himself, eyes watering as the burning on his collar bone grew worse even as the pain on his hip lessened.
He felt a hand on his back, the petite feel of it identifying the owner as Draco, and tried to relax. It didn’t seem this painful for Draco, so why all the fuss for him?
Eventually, the pain passed and Harry was able to sit up. He glanced back to find Emile and Lance looking at him in worry, but he gave them an assuring smile before turning to Draco, who was frowning lightly.
“The only reason I can think of why it was so painful is because you gained the Black Lordling mark.”
“Then why didn’t the same happen to you?” Harry asked. “Narcissa was a Black, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, but the Lordling Mark can only be passed through a patriarch. So while she does have the Black families Lordling mark, she cannot pass it down to me.”
“Oh.” Harry rubbed his collarbone with a grimace. “Well, now that that’s done…Ironfist, may we see our accounts now?”
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