Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Masks of Real Heroes	By : Aelys_Althea Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17641 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Many thanks to the wonderful J. K. Rowling who offered such a beautiful world for amateurs such as myself to frolick in. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction and all characters and original storylines of Harry Potter belong to her!

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 15: Tinkering Subordinates
The soft tug of the comb grazed against his scalp with each stroke. No matter how many times the teeth picked at his hair, it never seemed to be entirely free of knots. Not that Harry minded, particularly. It didn't even really hurt.
It was only the third time that Narcissa had taken a comb to his hair. The gentle touches had progressed to soft strokes not long ago, but apparently Narcissa found it time to progress to a higher level of contact, for whatever reasons. The first time was at Christmas, after Draco disappeared in a flurry with the tapestry Harry had gifted him. Narcissa had gazed at the afterimage of her son with an amused quirk twitching her lips, then proceeded to engage Harry in conversation about the apatite earrings and collar. She seemed nearly as excited about the possibility of communication with animals as Harry did, though conducted herself with such restraint that it was only the twinkling of her eyes that gave her away.
More than that, Narcissa had helped him as he struggled with the overwhelming experience of having a completely foreign mind linked to his own. Draco's mother was a master of mind magic and it was evidenced by her intense analysis of the situation and the helpfulness of her suggestions. Lucius had even contributed his remarks pertaining to animal psychology; Harry was nearly as startled by his wealth of knowledge on the subject as he was at the casual, comfortable conversation between the three of them.
When Lucius had disappeared in search of more coffee – though why he didn't simply request a house elf Harry didn't know – Narcissa had produced a polished narwhal-tooth comb and, with a slight flourish, had settled herself behind Harry's chair and begun to stroke the brittle teeth with a feather-light touch through his hair. The instant the gentle touches had dragged through his hair, all thoughts of communication with Lyssy from Harry's mind. He had been unable to utter a word; not only was he shocked at the sudden change, but he was surprised by how little he felt discomforted by her contact. It didn't feel nauseating, nor did he reflexively cringe each time Narcissa's long fingers trailed over the back of his head in tandem with the comb. Even the first time, it never really felt unpleasant.
Throuhgout the entire experience, Narcissa kept up her light litany of superficial conversation. She had only actually commented on the occupation of her combing fingers once. "Draco used to have longer hair when he was younger. I always loved combing it. He enjoyed it too, I think, though he never admitted it."
Harry had been able to hear the faint smile in her voice, just as he heard the regret in her sigh that followed. "Alas, I almost wish he'd held off spending so much time with his year mates in his childhood; he always wanted to mimic his father, but the fashion of youngsters at the time positively forbade him from growing it past his shoulders. He evidently found it more important to maintain social appearances than attempt a recreation of his father." She chuckled slightly, her combing never pausing.
Harry felt a smile of his own twitch at the corners of his lips. A surprising smile, unexpected, but he couldn't help himself. If there was one thing that Harry and Narcissa shared, and likely shared with Lucius too, one thing that would always bind them together it was their fondness for Draco. Harry openly acknowledged how much he loved hearing stories of his friend's childhood. There must have been something in the set of his shoulders, perhaps a slight tilting of his head at his eagerness that spoke to Narcissa of such. The quiet-spoken witch was only too to oblige his interest.
After a steady half an hour of brushing and quiet talking - for after ten minutes or so Narcissa had managed to draw Harry from his silence with her mention of Draco - the witch had dropped the comb and placed her hands gently upon either side of his head. A cradle, almost, delicate and feather light. She was still for a moment and though Harry couldn't see her face he could almost see her pursing her lips in consideration at whatever thought crossed her mind.
"Harry, would you mind?"
"Hmm?"
Her long fingers pressed slightly, yet still gently, just behind his temples, flicking idly at the smooth locks. "I used to braid Draco's hair when he was younger, too. I got rather inventive with it, if I do say so myself. Would you allow me?"
How could Harry do anything but nod? Besides, his unexpected comfort under Narcissa's ministrations urged him to grasp at any chance to extend the experience for as long as possible.
Narcissa wove hair with the same gentle dexterity and proficiency that she conducted everything. Harry had to struggle to keep his eyes open throughout the braiding, and found himself having to blink rapidly when she finally stopped to drag himself out of his stupor. Narcissa, giving her finished braid one final pat, slid around to kneel before him on the floor. Harry met her soft gazes she flicked a loose strand of hair from his forehead. It was one of the most foreign experiences he had ever been in; the simple affection that radiated from the woman almost drowned him.
Smiling warmly in such a way that Harry couldn't help a shy smile of his own, she reached once more into the folds of her skirts - she had to have a pocket there somewhere, surely - and removed a small black box. "Here, I haven't given you a gift yet."
Harry had stared down at the box in trepidation as she pressed it into his hands. Biting his lip, he glanced up at her nervously. "Mrs. Malfoy –"
"Narcissa."
He swallowed, nodded, and tried again. "Narcissa, you didn't have to get me a present."
"I know. And I would expect that you didn't even notice I hadn't given you one?" Harry shook his head shortly. "Well, think of it this way: I give you a gift simply because I wish to. Not because I feel compelled to with the demands of Christmas, but because I want to."
Harry felt his brow crinkle in confusion. "But why? You've given me so much already –"
"Because I care for you, and wish to give you something that I think you will like."
Harry stared at Narcissa, barely aware that his mouth had fallen open. His mind had seemed to flat line as her words slowly registered. Because I care for you. He couldn't remember ever being told that so bluntly by anyone before. Not even Draco.
Feeling a lump lodge itself in his throat, Harry dropped his chin to his chest and stared at the box. Several swallows and a frantic attempt to muffle a sniffle later, he croaked out a reply. "But I feel like all I've done is take things off you since I've been here... I don't think –"
"You've accepted that which we have impressed upon you, certainly, and with more grace that most could manage." Narcissa's warm smile never wavered for a moment. Harry saw her bend slightly in an attempt to catch his eye, but he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. "Tell me, Harry. Why did you give me a gift? Did you feel compelled to? Forced to?"
Harry jerked his chin upwards at that, blinking rapidly to clear the film of tears that threatened to break. "What? N-no, no, I just wanted to… as a way of saying thank you. I don't think something as simple as a hair ornament would quite cover the costs of staying in your care for three weeks... B-but it's not like I didn't – I mean, I wanted to get you a gift…" He dropped his chin again, attempting to hide his own embarrassment and the upwelling tears. So stupid. What is wrong with my tears ducts these days?!
Narcissa sighed heavily, tinged with a sound Harry couldn't discern. It sounded almost...sad. A little regretful. "Calm yourself, I did not mean to suggest you were in the wrong for giving me a gift." She stroked the persistent strand of hair out of Harry's face once more, tucking it firmly behind his ear. Harry shivered at the contact but didn't flinch away. "I merely meant to impress upon you that I feel much the same way in giving to you my gift as you would in gifting me mine. It is not about feeling forced or obligated to meet the expectations of Christmas. It was because I wanted to." She paused, and the sadness was replaced by a tinge of amusement. "Consider it a gift to myself more than you. I do so love spending money."
Huffing in what was as much a laugh as a sob, Harry nodding slightly. Not that he thought she was exactly correct in saying as much. Their situations were different, entirely different. The degree of simply how much they owed one another could not even fit on the same scales; that Narcissa apparently simply enjoyed the act of buying was irrelevant. Harry was almost surprised that such a perceptive woman couldn't see that.
"Why don't you open it?" Narcissa's perfectly manicured nails tapped the hard lid of the box gently. Harry nodded again, feeling abruptly too drained to push himself to talk further, and slid the lid open.
He gasped with the same wonder that he had felt at the gift Draco had given him, but with none of the confusion. Nestled on a bed of champagne-coloured silk, folded with lenses polished to a perfect shine, the delicate spectacles were so much more elegant than his previous frames that they were hardly even comparable. Raising the box slightly, he squinted his eyes to attempt to peer more closely at the detailing on the frames. He could tell that they were green, and seemed to be some kind of patterning, but his very need for the spectacles prevented him from gleaning more than that.
"The frames are of Vitius vitrium. Only found in the tropics, and only in areas of extremely high rainfall. Wizards harvest the plant for its durable properties; when immersed in liquid fire, it hardens to a strength to rival spiders web of the same density." As Harry flickered his glance at her questioningly, she smiled slightly. "That is to say they are very strong." She cocked her head, considering. "Will you try them on? I only used my own measurements and an magical scan for the prescription; if it doesn't suit, they can be altered."
With nervous fingers, Harry gingerly lifted the delicate frames from their pillow of silk. They felt slightly warm to the touch, as though the fiery immersion Narcissa had spoken of left its heat lingering still. Slipping them onto his nose, he blinked rapidly before turning to Narcissa to behold her for the first time without a hint of blurriness since his arrival. Her smile seemed even more angelic without the faint opaque filter.
"Beautiful. They suit you perfectly, even if I do say so myself." Satisfaction curled her lips without a hint of modesty, and Harry couldn't help but return the smile.
The day of their return to Hogwarts was the third instance Narcissa had combed his hair and Harry was once again struggling to refrain from falling to sleep under the careful strokes of her comb. Draco had disappeared into his room nearly half an hour beforehand to ensure that all necessities were packed and ready. Lucius had left nearly another half an hour before that for the International Portkey Bank with the artifact in tow that would ship them back to England.
Harry didn't have much to pack. Even with the swathes of clothing that Narcissa had rained upon him, even with the gifts he had received from Christmas - the sheer number of them was a little overwhelming; he'd never even gotten a gift before - he could easily fit them in his school trunk, which had been packed since early that morning. Harry had gotten rather adept at moving quietly around the room while Draco continued to sleep, prone and sprawled on across the mattress.
At the cessation of the stroking, Harry blinked rapidly to urge the sleepiness from his eyes. Narcissa's fingers took the place of the comb and she ran her nails through his hair, catching on the last of the knots. "I think I'll try a different braid today..." Harry knew she was talking more to herself than to him, but nodded nonetheless. Not that he would object to any of her words she made had she asked him to stand on his head and sing in Gaelic. He'd probably even be eager to, if it made her happy.
Draco returned just as Narcissa was tying a band around the base of his braid. He raised one perfect blonde eyebrow at the sight, one that Harry and Narcissa silently agreed to ignore.
"Are you all packed, dear?"
Nodding, Draco slumped onto the bed beside Harry. "I decided to load a second trunk; the first just wouldn't fit everything in it."
'Even with the Enlarging Charm?'
"I didn't want to store my broomstick with the Anti-Gravity Potion Theo sent me. Professor Snape always said that even airtight the effects can be disastrous with delicate magic."
"Hmmm, I hadn't considered..."
Harry dropped his chin to hide the smile that threatened to surface at the mock seriousness of Narcissa's tone. He wondered if Draco heard it, but wouldn't put it past his friend to ignore any condescension on his mother's part; he probably did so unconsciously.
"Well, if that's all settled, we should move down to the parlor. Your father arrived ten minutes ago; he is eager for us to depart and I am want to agree. Punctuality is a necessity in any situation, but even more so when requesting the assistance of another."
Harry felt a shiver trickle down his spine at Narcissa's words. The meeting with Dumbledore. Of course it had to be today. With term starting the very next day, it was essential that they ensure all measures of preparedness were taken where possible. The Malfoy's very presence back in Britain, especially with the enormous secret of Draco's apparent treachery, demanded that protection be sought for the safety of their entire family.
Swallowing, Harry chanced a glance towards his friend. Draco appeared composed, calm in his relaxed seat upon the bed, but the faint paleness, the smudges beneath his eyes, bespoke otherwise. Harry knew his friend hadn't been sleeping well, ever since the Death Eater meeting of a few days before. His parent had returned at ten o'clock on the dot, exactly as they had promised, but by that point Draco was pacing like a caged tiger. Harry would have been unsurprised to see footprints tracked across the rug.
At the sudden appearance of Narcissa and Lucius in the parlor, Draco had dropped all decorum and strode forward, locking his mother in an embrace. Narcissa had blinked in frozen surprise momentarily before easing into the embrace and stroking her son's back gently. Even taller then her as he was, Harry had never seen his friend look so young and helpless. It was a far cry from the confidence and swagger that he had shown earlier that day in their trip around Paris. Harry had seen the point, almost to the second, when Draco's good humour had begun to die and had done his best to comfort him. It had worked moderately well, but soft words of reassurance and the squeezing of hands could only go so far.
"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you? What did he say?" Draco's voice had been muffled in the shoulder of Narcissa's robe, but Harry could still hear him.
"Fine, we are fine, my love. A regular meeting. Nothing to fear." And yet the glance towards Lucius that she had given had spoken otherwise. Harry was glad, in that moment, that Draco seemed too relieved at his parent's return to notice slight tightening of jaws and flicker of concerned shadow that darkened their eyes. Harry had shuffled awkwardly from across the room, hesitant to break into the reunion of the family but reluctant to break the stillness by departing the room. He simply waited, his heart thumping painfully as he witnessed Draco's overwhelming relief, trying to ignore the subtle glances Narcissa and Lucius shared over their son's head.
Draco had been high strung ever since. He attempted to maintain his light-heartedness – and succeeded to some degree – but seemed to get more frustrated as the days went by. Any of his attempts to glean an insight into the happenings of the meeting were skillfully diverted by his mother and father, leaving a decidedly sullen and mulish Draco to grumble into Harry's sympathetic ear. Harry didn't mind. Besides, Draco had come with him to the House; it was the least he could do to listen to the bemoaning of an admittedly worried friend. Harry had heard far worse complaints than Draco's genuine worrying in his past; it was almost a relief in comparison, and he found he had endless patience to reply to Draco's repeated and generally rhetorical questions.
Memories of the visit to his uncle's house helped with that some. Conversely, his worry for his friend helped to allay some of the gnawing thoughts that curled time and time again through his thoughts, hanging emptily upon confronting no resolution. Where was his uncle? Had he become seriously ill? Madame Georges said something about screams being heard from the house. Had someone broken in, attacked his uncle? A burglary-turned-attempted-homicide?
Harry knew he shouldn't be worried. He didn't need Draco to tell him that, though the blonde continued to, repeatedly, each time he drew himself from his own pondering to become aware of Harry's distracted frown.
"That man doesn't deserve a second of your consideration." He always started with such, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow with a thinning of lips. It was the perfect blend of Lucius and Narcissa. "If he is ill, or was attacked or... whatever, it's karma."
"Karma? I wouldn't think wizards believed in karma."
Draco sniffed self-righteously. "Of course! It's the unanimous judiciary system of the entire universe. Everybody knows that."
Harry had to smile at that. He couldn't help himself. It was just so Draco. "Didn't know you considered much about the universe at large, either." But he had said it quietly enough that Draco could pretend he didn't hear.
Oddly enough, Draco's words seemed to stick. For whatever reason, even though he was slowly coming to understand rather than just to accept that what his uncle had done to him as horribly, horribly wrong, he couldn't help contemplating the fate of the man that had ruled his world for a third of his life. It was the first time he had become aware of the possibility to both fear and - dare he say - hate someone but also fear for them. It was that which confused him possibly the most.
He didn't, ever, bring up going to visit his uncle, though. He didn't even consider it himself.
Draco's sharp voice cut into his thoughts. "Wait, did you say Father is already here? Why didn't you tell me? I would have hurried my packing."
Narcissa's amusement radiated from her so strongly that Harry didn't even need to turn to recognize it. "I had assumed you would be moving at utmost haste without such a catalyst, Draco. Did I perhaps assume wrongly?"
Draco huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "I was going as fast as I could. I just... could have maybe spent a little less time reading in between sorting."
Patting Harry's head, Narcissa chuckled quietly, stood and gracefully glided towards the door. "No harm done. Come, boys. I believe it is about time." And with a swish of her robes she disappeared into the hallway.
Draco rose with his mother's grace, fingers slipping into a gentle hold of Harry's own. The handhold wasn't unexpected. Rather, Harry would have been almost surprised if Draco hadn't held his hand. "Since when has mother been doing your hair?"
Harry shrugged, patting at the braid that draped across his shoulder. "She hasn't been, really. Just a couple of times, once at Christmas and that other time when you had tea with your father for nearly an hour."
"Huh."
"What?"
"Nothing. Just surprised." That you'd let her went unsaid, but Harry merely shrugged again and didn't expand.
Lyssy rubbed herself along Harry's leg as he followed Draco out of the room. A faint mew, a bunching of muscles and she had launched herself neatly onto Harry's shoulder with only a slight pinch of claws into skin through his sleeves. Such a considerate cat. With the precarious perch, she barely wavered in her seat, tail flicking around his head as she balanced. Draco rolled his eyes in as the sight but didn't comment.
"Where? Where to, Harry? Going?"
Harry raised a hand to the little cat's head, rubbing gently at the cyanogriffin-feather collar around her neck and eliciting a soft purr. Understanding had been slow at first; the swarm of images coloured by emotion hadn't embodied words so much. It was more… impressions, just as Harry had attempted to describe to Draco days before. Practice since Christmas had smoothed the confusion markedly, and Harry was now fairly confident that he could comprehend many of Lyssy's disjointed messages. The faint scolding he dealt him whenever his misinterpreted helped.
It was wonderful, however, even with the not-quite-complete understanding. That Harry could actually understand her… The implications of such a communication itself were staggering, and that was disregarding the flood of delight he felt at every phrase she commented. Because they were talking.
The words, however, were not words as such but more of a rapid firing of images that projected into his mind, tinged with a soft, foreign warmth and blunt entitlement that was definitely Cat and purely Lyssy. An image of the House, of Hogwarts, of the Manor, of a little cubby-hole that Harry recognised from his uncle Stephen's backyard, coupled with hesitant walking and a quavering twinge that bespoke askance. Harry was fairly certain he had interpreted Lyssy's 'words' correctly, but he could never been entirely sure.
"We're going back to the Big House." An image of Hogwarts, of entering through the front doors, accompanied by comfort and warmth. "We will have to travel by portkey, however."
Lyssy murmured, switching her tail as Harry projected the images of their previous two portkeys; an ornamental pigeon and a rather impressive fascinator with a feather than she had stared at with the fixation of a huntress. "Bad, feels yucky, don't like." The distaste would have been evident even without the mental image of a scrunched face, taught whiskers and gagging.
"I know, but it will only be a short trip. Better then travelling by plane." She murmured her disgruntlement again at the image of the airborne vehicle. "Besides, you'll get to see Hagrid again. He can give you some –"
"Rats! Rats, big noses and snuffly, scurry, they scurry fast. Good to catch!"
Harry smiled at the abrupt change. Lyssy was like that. It was nearly impossible to keep up with the flowing moods. She seemed to have entirely forgotten about the mention of the portkey with his proffered mental image of the half-giant gameskeeper. He wasn't sure if that was an animal thing or simply Lyssy herself. She did dote on Hagrid, though; Harry had realised as much even without the collar's communication highway. Not only did the giant professor seem to revel in offering her morsels of whatever he kept in his seemingly bottomless pockets but he didn't dispute her attendance in his class.
"What did she say?"
Harry glanced towards Draco, raising an eyebrow. The blonde shrugged. "You get this sort of glazed look when you're talking to her. It's hard to miss."
Harry felt a blush warm his cheeks. Damn pale skin. And then glazed? Great, now I've got another thing my face chooses to do without my consent. He wouldn't trade the conversations with Lyssy for anything, though. Not even if it entailed pulling strange facial expressions.
"She doesn't really like portkeys."
"Ah, well, no, most animals don't."
"We didn't have a great experience with them the last couple of times." Harry stroked another hand beneath Lyssy's collar. "She wouldn't let go of my shirt for a good half a day the first time."
Draco chuckled, shooting a glance at the little cat now staring fixedly at him. "At least you can actually tell her what's going on this time. Though I can't say that I particularly like portkey transport either. Brooms are much better. And we start Apparation lessons this term."
"Apparation's the teleporting thing, yes?" Harry distractedly poked Lyssy's forehead to quieten the grumbling of images into his mind. "Laughing at me, he is amused! It is not amusing, it is yucky, bad, feels bad!" Her tail switched him in the face in her agitation.
"Tele… no, it's called Apparation."
"But it's essentially –" "Silly boy, thinking to try to move anywhere not on his own paws. Dangerous, and silly. Silly kitten…"
"Is she interrupting our conversation? She's doing that more, lately. It's a little distracting." Draco didn't really seem annoyed. If anything, he appeared more curious than put out.
"Sorry. She's actually trying to contribute, I think. Or… at least it's relevant."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "She's listening in on what we're saying? Can she actually understand it?"
Nodding, Harry waved another tail flick from his face. "She understands it better now than before we started Talking. Though I was surprised at how much she actually picked up. Not words so much – though she can even get some of them now – but simply comprehension…"
"Do you think it's because of the collar? That she's, what, listening in to your interpretation or something and cataloguing it?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. It's a lot easier to understand when she talks to me now than it was at first. I'm not sure if that's attributed more to her understanding or my own, though."
Draco nodded, considering. "It's sort of interesting."
'Would you like to give it a go?'
Consideration immediately shifted to apprehension. "No, no I don't think so. I'm not really an animal person. I've a history of poor experiences, particularly with magical creatures." His eyes faded distantly for a moment, and his lip curled as though recalling an unpleasant incident.
"Maybe this would help with that?"
'Perhaps, but no, I'm fine thank you.' He seemed slightly intimidated at the thought and Harry withheld further comment.
Lucius was waiting with what Harry had come to recognise as his own form of impatience. While he acknowledged that he was rather adept at observing the habits and reactions of those around him - he'd had to be, what with school and his family - he didn't think that he would have recognised it in Lucius had he not spent the last few weeks in contact with him. Lucius wore the perfected mask that Draco was still honing and it fit him like a second skin after what must have been a lifetime of practice.
The senior Malfoy inclined his head at their entrance, snakehead cane stamping idly beside his foot. Narcissa stepped up to his side, tilting her head in such a way that even his frozen mask softened slightly.
"The portkey?"
Lucius hefted a lidless teapot. Narcissa sighed. "How unrefined."
Draco and Lucius both nodded in agreement, but Harry simply buried his chin once more to hide the twitch of a smile. He was getting good at that, ensuring his face was hidden if he couldn't prevent it from displaying his emotions like a portrait on a canvas. The smiles were still unexpected, sparking unannounced with incredible frequency nowadays as though making up for missed past opportunities, but despite such unexpectedness he was getting good at predicting the instances that would elicit them. It made dealing with the corresponding reactions of his fellows far easier when they missed his amusement half the time.
Stepping forward at Draco's insistent pull, he placed a finger of the polished porcelain, the other hand rising to draw Lyssy into to huddle closely against his chest. The little cat squirmed slightly, but at Harry's precaution stilled in nervous tension. Draco followed his lead. "To where are we going exactly, Father?"
"Hogsmeade. There is no point stopping by on the way. The elves will take the luggage."
"You had no difficulty diverting the location from the International In-Port?" Narcissa frowned slightly, perhaps a touch concerned.
"For me? No." There was no smugness in Lucius' words; Harry admired that he could say as much with such objectiveness. "Floria is known to take the odd unconventional portkey, as it were."
"Of course." Narcissa ceded, bowing her head, and didn't question her husband further. She no longer even seemed particularly interested.
"Now, we should leave. The meeting with Dumbledore is scheduled for," he glanced at his pocket watch, "less than an hour from now. On three, if we could. One, two..."
Harry hadn't experienced much by way of portkey travel. Only twice, in fact, and both of them international trips; travelling with Professor McGonagall on that first trip to England before he'd started at Hogwarts, and then back again for the Christmas holidays. He would readily confess that even, after two experiences of such, he could look no more favourably upon the mode of transportation.
The pinch behind his navel, not painful but still discomforting, seemed to tug him into a whirlpool of confusion where he seemed to be pulled in every direction at once. Weightlessness gripped him, and the only thing that grounded him was the feel of smooth porcelain under his fingertips. He couldn't even feel Lyssy against his chest anymore.
And suddenly, as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. Slammed to a stop, in fact. Harry's knees buckled and he fell rather pathetically upon the floor. A wooden floor, he registered distractedly. He blinked around him, shaking his head to rid it of the dizziness that slowly morphed back into stability. A glance towards Draco left him slightly mollified from his own collapse when he noticed his friend struggling to keep his own feet. At least the other boy hadn't fallen, though.
Steadying himself, Draco grinned down at where Harry sprawled on the floor. "Come on, no need to so embarrassed. You've only done that, what, twice?'"
The reassurance did nothing to dispel Harry's blush. Reaffirming his hand on a frozen and grasping Lyssy, Harry took the proffered hand and allowed Draco to tug him to his feet, glancing towards Lucius and Narcissa as he did so. They, naturally, looked no more ruffled then they had in the parlor of their Parisian manor. Lucius had already shrunken the teapot and slipped it into the pocket of his robes.
Glancing around the room, Harry noted that they appeared to have been transported to a rather quaint establishment that reeked of coziness. Lace curtains were pulled back to reveal the blinding whiteness of morning snow, illuminating the delicate lines of the room: a neat little white table adorned by a floral tablecloth and dainty chairs with matching cushions. A flickering fireplace with a grill of the same polished whiteness. Even the floor - yes, it was definitely made of wood - was a paleness that seemed to subvert the conventions of timber.
"Puddifoot's?" Draco sounded faintly incredulous as he too registered the room. Harry recalled the little teashop in Hogsmeade and blinked in surprise. Lucius had suggested the kindly old woman was less licit in her affairs than was widely considered, but he could hardly perceive the round woman with her impeccable bun and welcoming smile as anything but a simple shop owner.
"Indeed."
"What, is this a private room or something? I didn't even know Puddifoot offered private rooms." Draco's voice took on a petulance that bespoke a perceived slight, as though his parents had deliberately kept such knowledge from him.
Narcissa and Lucius pointedly ignored his pout, the latter leading the way from the room in long strides. Harry and Draco followed in their wake, Draco leading and Harry right behind him, murmuring to a shaken Lyssy. The little cat trembled slightly, grumbling under her breath and through the mental link both. Her claws pressed deeply through the woolen layers of his outer coat. He stroked her head reassuringly, offering images of Featherwood's plump bed and as many rats as Hagrid could provide.
Madame Puddifoot met them in the hallway as if she had been expecting them which, Harry considered, she probably had. She nodded her head politely at the two elder Malfoys and spared a smile for Harry and Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy. A pleasure."
"That it is, Floria. It has been too long." Lucius nodded his head respectfully in return. His public mask was firmly affixed without a crack of emotion breaking across the smooth paleness of his face.
"Will you be heading to the Three Broomsticks, my Lord? Shall I send a runner to book you rooms?"
"If you would, I would be in your debt." Lucius bowed his head once more. "But we make for the school first and foremost."
Madame Puddifoot nodded and didn't question further, though from the curiosity sparkling in her eyes Harry thought her tongue was itching to ask further. "I have a carriage if you…?"
Narcissa stepped forwards, smiling with her own public formality but with a hint of gratitude evident nonetheless. "Thank you, that would be very appreciated."
Madame Puddifoot bowed her head once more, turned on her heel and scurried away. The Malfoys and Harry followed in her wake, catching the attention of a few curious diners as they passed through the open front of the shop. The plump little woman directed them to a carriage that could not have suited the floral and pastels of the teashop better had they tried. It wasn't pulled by thestrals, Harry noted absently, but instead by some sort of short horse-like creature with a flattened snout, deep chest and the flat, padded feet of a snow leopard. Harry made a note to look it up when he was next in the library. Or with Hermione.
Draco snorted as he brushed the lacy curtains from the doorways to climb inside, but he refrained from commenting. Probably because of his parent's stoic silence. Or perhaps it was a growing nervousness that stilled his tongue. As they settled onto the padded seats, Harry glanced at his friend just in time to catch a frown of worry smoothing from his brow
The carriage door closed with a snap and the slosh of carriage wheels through half-melted snow was all that broke the silence.

Puddifoot's carriage dropped them off at the very entrance to Hogwarts. The temperature was markedly colder than in Hogsmeade, even without the steady fall of snow, so Harry was unsurprised to see no students outdoors. Following Lucius' obvious lead, he trailed alongside Draco through the warm, welcoming doors of Hogwarts castle.
It was an odd experience, returning. It didn't feel like all that long since he had left, but so much had happened since Harry had last beheld the candlelit stone walls, listened to the distant buzz of student chatter as they trickled into the Great Hall for a late breakfast, that it felt disjointed. He wouldn't say bad; no, Hogwarts had been the first place he had ever felt closest to happy in his entire life. Returning was odd, but left him feeling almost… peaceful.
The same could obviously not be said for Draco, and despite their masks of cold indifference Harry suspected that Lucius and Narcissa were similarly experiencing feelings of nervousness. Harry supposed that most would not have suspected Draco to be unnerved either, but he'd spent far too much time with his friend over the past few weeks to be unable to read the tension in his face The slight tightness around the eyes, their slight darkening, the firm set of his jaw. Harry shifted Lyssy slightly in his arms so he could brush his palm along Draco's tight fingers. The blonde boy started slightly, but offered a small smile and gripped the offered hand.
The stone griffin outside the Headmaster's office turned its head slowly as they approached, following their every move like the eagle it's head resembled. Clearing his throat, Lucius offered the password, "aniseed squirts." In that moment, Harry knew that Draco was more nervous than he let on; he didn't comment on the choice of passwords, not even offering a derogatory snort.
Dumbledore met them with a solemn tilt of his head as they filed into the room. Hands folded and cradling his chin from where he sat behind his imposing desk, the old man regarded each of them with closed consideration through his half-moon spectacles. He did not look particular askance, nor even bat an eyelid, at Harry's presence. Harry could only assume that Dumbledore had been informed of his attendance, or that the old man was as adept as hiding his emotions as Lucius was.
A quick glance around the room showed it to be in much the same state as Harry's previous visits, few as they were. Twinkling artifacts that he would have assumed were some more elaborate Muggle creations had the elderly wizard not fondly informed him otherwise; something that looked like a telescope with additional contraptions attached, a mobile the spun across half of the space overhead with oddly shaped pieces that looked like hieroglyphs, an assortment of bronze instruments displayed on shelving along the walls and more books than Harry thought entirely necessary in a professional office space. Fawkes the phoenix regarded the new arrivals with a cocked head, glorious in full-bloom and plume flaring impressively. Harry wondered idly if a phoenix would be responsive to the use of the apatite earring and collar. He suspected they would be awfully intelligent.
"Please, take a seat."
Dumbledore's voice was deep and soft, welcoming even, but the Malfoys only stiffened before stepping forwards to the four chairs lined before the desk. Harry thought they resembled those afforded to students in the classroom, but Lucius and Narcissa didn't comment, settling themselves onto the hardwood. He noticed with mild surprise that Draco's parents immediately stationed themselves on either end of the line of chairs, forcing Draco and Harry to sit between them. Is that… protective? He could understand it from Draco, but even with his acknowledgment of Narcissa's fondness for him in particular he found it a little unexpected in it's inclusion of himself too. Still, he didn't pause or comment as they settled themselves in the remaining seats, Harry sitting to Draco's left and beside Narcissa. It felt oddly reassuring to sit between the two of them. Like a united front.
Silence ensued. It seemed to leave a faint ring in the air, broken only by a soft tinkling and something that sounded like a babbling brook. Harry couldn't tell where it was coming from. The waiting had just reached the point of awkwardness when Dumbledore opened his mouth once more.
"I believe I understand the nature of your request for a meeting."
Lucius leant forward slightly in his seat, but otherwise made no motion of unease. He didn't even appear tense. "I would expect you would."
"You seek protection."
It wasn't a question, but Lucius and Narcissa nodded in synchrony. Draco simply dropped his eyes to the carpet before his feet. Harry thought he looked ashamed. He squeezed his friend's hand reassuringly, but Draco respond.
"We seek whatever protection can be afforded from the threat that is the Dark Lord."
Dumbledore appeared nothing if not a frozen statue, even his long, curling beard seemingly carved from stone. All of a sudden, Harry felt as if he attended a masquerade at which he was the only one without a mask. Even Draco, with his bowed head, hid his nerves more adeptly than Harry could. As the thought passed through his head, he became aware he was chewing his lip, the fingers still propping Lyssy to his chest itching at his collarbone through his thick coat. With a concerted effort, he forced his hands still.
Dumbledore finally closed his eyes, lowering his hands to fold on the flat plane of the desk before him. "Surely you understand it cannot be so simple."
"Please," Draco abruptly burst from his silence. "It's my fault, all my fault that my family is endangered."
"Draco –"
"No, mother, it's true. It is my incompetency in the task the Dark Lord has given me that put us all in danger. If I had only…"
"Fixed the cabinet? Created a bypass into the school that could be utilized by Death Eaters, to gain access to one of the few remaining sanctuaries of Wizarding Britain?"
Draco froze, his face paling rapidly. "How do you…?"
Dumbledore stared at Draco over the top of his spectacles. Not unkindly, but not entirely welcoming either. "I have my ways, Draco. You of all people should know there is more that occurs beneath the surface than meets the eye." Turning his attention from Draco – whose hand had begun to faintly tremble in Harry's grasp – he focused once more on Lucius and Narcissa.
"Please understand, a shift in allegiance is… unusual, to say the least. There can be little trust established on the grounds of such a relationship."
Lucius tapped his cane on the floor between his feet, the only indicator of agitation. "You understand, that such a blatant show of disloyalty to the Dark Lord as 'shifting allegiance' would result in our untimely destruction."
"Ah, so you do not wish to alter your beliefs? Sacrifice for the common good?" The bluntness of the old man's words left Harry blinking rapidly. More, the coldness… He would never have thought Dumbledore could sound so merciless. "You seek protection, and yet give nothing in return."
"We will provide what we can afford –"
"But ultimately, your loyalties remain with Voldemort." Dumbledore ignored the flinches of the Malfoys, pressing his fingers slightly into the desktop. "Do you have so little faith in the power of the light that you will not take a chance?"
Buzzing silence met the old man's words. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance that seemed to speak a thousand words. It was Narcissa who finally spoke. "A chance is a risk, and a risk concerning the Dark Lord can be deadly. We simply believe that such a blatant show of treachery would ultimately lead to our deaths. Albus Dumbledore, I care not for this war. I have long since felt the need to withdraw, but my loyalty to my family and the bonds that tie them to the Dark Lord are unbreakable as of yet."
Closing her eyes briefly, she turned to face her son. Draco glanced up at her sideways but kept his head bowed. "And yet our situation has reached a crisis. My son's life is being placed directly into the firing line. If I truly believed that throwing the full force of my faith behind your cause, Headmaster, would ensure his continued safety, then I would do so wholeheartedly.
"However, certain… considerations must be accounted for. Not the least of which include the expectations the Dark Lord holds for my son. We have blindsided him temporarily, but it shall not remain so for long, I fear. Not after…" She trailed off, her eyes tightening slightly as she continued to stare at her son.
At the soft words, Draco raised his head fully, frowning. "Mother, what happened? What aren't you telling me?"
Narcissa swallowed, but turned instead to Dumbledore. "Please. It is not for the safety of my husband and myself that we have sought your protection. Please, simply extend a your shield to cover my son."
"Mother –"
"I fear that, if you do not do so, than the Dark Lord will have him killed before the year is out. For he cannot possibly fulfill the task that has been appointed him."
"Mother!"
Narcissa ignored her son's cracking voice. Her mouth was pinched slightly, as though she were struggling to hold back a sob. It was a fracture in her blank expression that Harry found heartbreaking to see, and not only because he cared for her.
Dumbledore pondered her words with as little sympathy as one would offer a stone cast into the ruthless crashing of the sea. Propping his chin once more on his hands, he closed his eyes gravely. "He has extended his orders."
"Yes. It is an impossible task."
Harry followed Draco's gaze as it flickered between his parents. "What is this? Extended his orders? What did he say?"
Narcissa was silent. Lucius did not even look at his son, simply drilled Dumbledore with a flat stare.
"Mother? Father? What did he say?"
Finally, Narcissa's thinned lips parted. It was almost a gasp. "It need not concern you, Draco. It is under control."
"How can you say that, when it does concern me?! Me, most of all. If he has ordered me to do something –"
"Draco, be silent." Lucius cut across his son's pleading words, muffling the flow of demands that bordered on a cry. "It is precisely for this reason, for the continued interest of the Dark Lord in you, that we seek support from the side of the light. Do not question that which your elders have deemed unnecessary to share."
Harry winced at each word, but he knew his cringe was nothing compared to what Draco managed to hide. The young wizard froze, jaw tightening, fingernails digging into Harry's palm. He could almost see the thoughts trickle from his friend's ears. They hid something from me, something big. And now they treat me like a child… Yet for all the affront that he just failed to hide, he didn't speak.
Dumbledore considered Lucius intently before sighing deeply. There was a knowing light in his eye and Harry suspected that, for all his and Draco's ignorance, the headmaster had likely guessed the secret the Malfoy's kept from their son. "I have to wonder at the suddenness of your change of heart. You letter was sent before Christmas; your decision was evidently made prior to further developments on the matter, namely your latest meeting with the Dark Lord." He paused, raising an eyebrow slowly, expectantly.
"He is no longer a follower of the Dark Lord."
"You have made as much clear, Mr. Malfoy."
Narcissa hissed slightly and Harry nearly fell from his seat at the display of anger. It seemed to… unexpected. Uncharacteristic, even in Narcissa's protectiveness. He clutched Lyssy more tightly to his chest, ignoring the wriggling and grumbles of "Bad, talk bad, angry, scared?" that rippled through his mind. Narcissa was evidently at her wits end, and was struggling to contain herself. He didn't need the little cat to inform him of what was was spelled out plainly for them all to see.
"I do not mean he has forsaken the Dark Lord in favour of the side of Light. He has simply turned from the path the Dark Lord has placed him upon."
"I fear I do not know what you mean."
Narcissa hissed once more, turning her head to stare her cold fury at the far wall. Lucius, the more level-headed of the two at least in that moment, continued in her silence. "Draco has been removed from his enslavement of the Dark Lord. He has been rid of the Dark Mark and is not longer bound to the Dark Lords magic."
For the first time, Harry thought Dumbledore looked surprised. Shocked, even, if such an expression were possible upon his face. Not in the way that most people express shock, however; there was no jaw dropping, widening of eyes, rapid paling. Rather, the man froze to an even greater resemblance of a statue than before, his eyes sharpening and flicking abruptly to Draco, who flinched under the intensity of the stare.
"Is that so?" His voice was so hushed that had any of them been breathing louder than a whisper it would have been missed.
Draco, swallowing loudly, cast a glance at his father. After a careful nod from Lucius, he reached his free hand to the sleeve of his left arm and rolled up the thick wool and cotton robe beneath. The paleness of his exposed forearm was even more starkly so with the absence of the snake and skull tattoo that Harry had seen only once.
"It is no glamour. You may check for yourself." Narcissa, apparently finding her self-imposed silence intolerable, cut her words sharply towards the frozen headmaster. "I have affirmed myself; the link is completely gone."
Rising abruptly from his seat, Dumbledore swept around his desk and strode forwards. He looked impressively tall standing, seeming to loom slightly over the seated occupants and none the less intimidating for the robes that Harry still considered more akin to a bath robe or elaborate dressing gown than an outfit for day wear. His flopping hat slipped slightly as he tipped his head down towards Draco. The right hand and clasped wand extended from the sleeve of his robes, waving towards the exposed arm.
"If I may." It wasn't really a question.
Harry watched closely as Dumbledore waved his wand over his friends arm. The man didn't speak a word, but that didn't mean much, especially from his standpoint; speaking while casting magic always would seem unnecessary to Harry. What concerned him, however, was the intensity that the old man stared at his friend, as though he sought to bore holes into the exposed arm. That anger, that unfamiliar emotion that only seemed to grip him when Draco was concerned, lifted its head slowly, warily. He had to bite his lip firmly to prevent himself from glaring at the headmaster.
He's just checking, just to make sure the bond it broken. Harry knew it was broken. He didn't know how, exactly; he couldn't quite recall the exact sequence of events that had lead to the mark's disappearance, but he knew for certain that any trace of that murky darkness was removed from Draco. Eyes locking onto the pale arm, he could see it – like the difference between a dirty wound and the cleanness of healed skin, it was almost laughably apparent.
It was perhaps because of the focus of his attention, that faint flicker of sixth sense that he had come to associate with his magic, that Harry became aware of the similar shadow of murky darkness within the room. Shifting his eyes back to Dumbledore, who still loomed and twitched his wand over Draco's hunched form, he felt his eyes drawn like an Ouija board to the tips of the old man's fingers. Blackened fingers, only just visible at the cuff of his sleeve.
Harry had seen it before. Not the first time he had seen him in Paris but at the beginning of the school year, upon visiting the old wizard in his office for the first time. The wrinkled skin that seemed almost burned, the way the old man had imperceptibly hidden it, covering the blackening, in such a way that slipped the fingers from view with his natural movements. At the time, Harry had barely considered it; the shriveled skin had looked unhealthy to him, but what did he know of wizard injuries?
With the familiarity to Draco's tattoo, to the sickly darkness that seemed not to divert light but to actively suck it in, he could see it for what it was. Perhaps it had grown worse, that darkness, that he was somehow able to perceive it better. Or perhaps he was just more in tune with manipulating his magic, more sensitive. It didn't look good. Harry felt his eyes caught upon the blackened fingertips, fixated.
"How did this occur?" Dumbledore's voice was distant, an idle thought, buzzing in Harry's ears. He shook himself in an attempt to pay attention once more.
"You knew he was marked." Narcissa sounded resentful, as though she blamed the man for knowing and not acting on such knowledge.
"Yes. How did this occur?" The headmaster did not even raise his eyes from Draco, eyes narrowed in consideration.
As one, all of the Malfoys turned towards Harry. Harry, eyes still fixed upon Dumbledore's hand, only tore his gaze from the wrinkled, blackened fingertips when the headmaster shifted, sleeve slipping to cover the damaged skin. Harry blinked rapidly and lifted his gaze meeting the elderly wizard's. It was intimidating enough to cause him to shrink into his seat slightly. He was only slightly eased by Lyssy's "Don't worry, my Harry, I'll protect you". Here words were oddly touching, a comforting reassurance.
"Harry?"
Swallowing, Harry blinked once more, regretting for the first time the braid that pinned his fringe from flopping across his eyes. "I don't really know, sir. I don't remember it entirely clearly. It just felt wrong, so I burned it away."
"Burned?"
Shrugging, he tucked his chin into the soft fuzz atop Lyssy's head, drawing her up his chest with his free hand. "It's what it felt like. I don't really know how I did it."
"But you know why?" Narcissa spoke with a steady intensity, though absent of the hiss that she had directed at Dumbledore. Her gaze held something bordering on tenderness that Harry wasn't entirely comfortable with but could appreciate nonetheless. He nodded; he knew what Narcissa was asking. Their brief conversations on the topic, in Draco's sparse absences, were telling.
"When I saw it for the first time, it just felt so wrong. Almost like an injury. I could feel that Draco was hurting, the sort of hurt of a sickness when the body was fighting back." He paused, stroking his chin on Lyssy's head once more. He couldn't seem to get the words out right. "It felt like Draco was trying to repel it, like a parasite… or something. I just… helped him along with the expulsion."
He could feel Dumbledore's eyes boring into his downturned head but didn't look up. "Are you familiar with medical procedures, Harry? Perhaps read something on bonding and curse-breaking?"
Harry shook his head. "If anything, Professor Dumbledore, I would say it was more like a compulsion than a bond. From what I've read, and from what I felt from Draco…" He trailed off. Unwilling to continue under Dumbledore's scrutiny.
Not that it mattered. With a murmured "interesting", Dumbledore had turned his gaze upon attention to Draco. Draco weathered the man's stare better than Harry had. "You reluctantly became bonded to Voldemort through the Dark Mark? You did not desire the mark?"
"What sort of a question is that? Of course he didn't.: Narcissa's hiss was back, more sibilant than ever.
"I merely question, Mrs. Malfoy, as Draco has not made any attempt to seek assistance himself, nor hinder his progression in the task allocated him by Voldemort himself." Dumbledore's tone was grave. Harry felt as though he were at a hearing, the headmaster a solemn judge reading the verdict. "Trust cannot be placed in one who has given no evidence to suggest it is warranted."
"He is only a boy!"
"A boy who has accepted the role of a man, and made decisions accordingly." Even Draco hunched under Dumbledore's gaze this time. From the clench of his jaw, Harry thought he was attempting to hold back an exclamation. "I understand your need, and the protection you seek is without doubt necessary; Voldemort would not take kindly to such a blatant display of so called disloyalty. However, the very manner of the breaking of the bond, not to mention an inability to ensure that you remain outside of influence of Voldemort and reject any future orders, leaves me hesitant. I do not wish to endanger those currently beneath my protection for the safety of a one."
Harry cringed, but inside his anger boiled. Dumbledore was refusing – refusing – to help Draco when he was so obviously in need. Rather than extend a hand of assistance, he resisted on the grounds of uncertainty. Harry didn't know why but for whatever reason he felt suddenly disappointed with the old man. I thought you would do anything to help someone. I hardly know you well enough to make such a speculation, but I thought…
"How can I show my loyalty?"
Dumbledore's gaze tightened. "Prove yourself."
"How dare you –"
"Mother, please! We are asking for his help. If he needs proof…" Draco drew a shuddering breath. "What can I do?"
The elderly wizard abruptly seemed to age ten years. The intensity, the sheer power and the intimidation of his looming form, dwindled to a mere shadow of its former self. He took a step back, and Draco's back immediately straightened. Harry found it incredible the strength his friend seemed to draw from nowhere, simply with the onus upon himself, the very prospect of taking his fate into his own hands rather than weighing upon the shoulders of his parents. A quick glance towards Narcissa and Lucius showed a similar pride, though with apprehension. Thankfully, neither made to interrupt.
Sighing, Dumbledore closed his eyes sagely. "I am sorry, Draco. Circumstances and fear for the many make me a hard man. I am not untouched by your plight, yet must take the necessary precautions to ensure that, for the good of our cause and the safety of those I strive to protect, that I leave no room for opportunity."
Draco nodded. Harry marveled at his resumed in composure, so different from the childish pout of but moments before. Just from being treated as something approaching an equal. He is strengthened when he knows others see him as responsible.
"I understand." Draco's voice held the steel of his fathers. "What can I do?"
"Ultimately, a magical Vow would be the most appropriate measure to ensure that both our needs are satisfied." Narcissa and Lucius both stiffened, but Dumbledore ignored them. "An Unbreakable Vow would be impractical, as we both bring needs and desires to the table."
"What do you propose, then?" Draco paused, frowning a moment to consider. "And what do you ask of me?"
This time, Dumbledore did turn towards Narcissa and Lucius. His eyes drilled with that same intensity that had caused Harry to stutter and silence. "Your part will be minimal in this exchange, Draco. A simple adherence to the rules of the school and an active attempt to extricate yourself from Death Eater activities will suffice. In exchange, I offer you the protection of myself, this school and the Order of the Phoenix. I will offer you the same degree of protection as I have others who have been… perhaps more significantly involved with Voldemorts regime, in exchange for your relinquishing your support of him."
'The Order has been reestablished.' Lucius spoke quietly, but there was something feverish in his usually cold gaze. Excitement? Relief?
"It has. And as such, I believe that the degree of protection you seek can be adequately afforded."
Draco frowned, staring at the floor once more. "You aren't asking much, considering. You don't really get anything out of it at all."
With his eyes still trained on the floor, Draco didn't see the pointed glance that Dumbledore directed towards the elder Malfoys that Harry witnessed. It was so brief that he almost missed it, but the slight tilt of both their chins suggested a silent exchange. Something they wanted to keep from Draco and himself. What are they doing? They're offering him something…? To ensure Draco's safety? What…?'
"You think hard, too much thinking. Just speak, demand they tell you."
Harry gave a small smile at Lyssy's suggestion. "You would think of such an approach – to simply demand. So like a cat."
"Of course. I am Cat." He ignored her purr of satisfaction, ears pricking as Dumbledore spoke once more.
"Can you not conceive that I will offer you my protection without further sacrifice on your part?"
Harry gave a mental snort. No, not after what you were saying before.
"No, I cannot believe that." Draco mirrored his thoughts, jaw tightening. "And I wouldn't expect you to."
Sighing, as though the suggestion saddened him greatly, Dumbledore nodded acceptance. "Then let this be your first act of trust in me. Allow me the secret of our agreement; I assure you, I ask no more of you than what I will declare in our Vow." And was it Harry's imagination, or was there a slight emphasis on 'you'?
Draco stared piercingly at Dumbledore. Harry felt a hint of pride that his friend didn't agree wholeheartedly, at the drop of a hat, at the mere possibility of proffered protection. Well, he is a Slytherin. And a pureblood from an ancient house at that. What more could one expect?
"Alright. I'll accept that." For now, went unspoken. "What do you propose?"
"There are a number of Vows that can bond two wizards over specified measures." Dumbledore folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe, a motion that would have been far more impressive, in Harry's eyes, had there not been dancing golden stars bouncing joyously around each cuff. "I proposition a Singular Vow of Mutualism – an exchange of one criteria that will be maintained up to the point of straying from such criteria."
"What happens if it is broken?" There was wariness in Draco's tone.
"Your fears are unfounded, my dear boy." Harry felt Draco's hand flinch at the term of endearment. "Nothing quite so drastic as the death of the one who breaks such a Vow."
"Potential paralysis and an induced comatose state is drastic enough in itself," Lucius sneered, distaste breaking through his expressionless mask for the first time that day.
"Easy reversible, and only temporary at worst," Dumbledore reassured Draco without even glancing at Lucius, smiling as Draco paled. "Yet I can assure you that it is enough incentive for me to maintain my Vow. Is it for you?" Draco nodded rapidly, lips pressing together. "Excellent. Then all we need is a Conduit, and the Vow can be made."
"Conduit?"
"A third party representative to act as a stabilizer for the Vow. Their magic provides the highway for the exchange." Dumbledore strode purposefully towards the modest fireplace crackling merrily in the corner of the room. Harry had barely noticed it upon arrival. "It so happens I have someone in mind to offer their assistance. Give me a moment to request his presence."
"You would bring a stranger into our midst to witness such a significant exchange?" It was Lucius that spoke, but Narcissa's thinned lips indicated she felt much the same way.
"Not a stranger, no, but a loyal comrade."
"Wait! No, I don't want anyone else to witness it!" Draco stood up in his chair, hand slipping from Harry's in his haste. Harry eased himself to his feet beside him. "Why can my mother or father act as Conduit?"
Dumbledore turned from the fireplace, half-bowed already towards the flickering flames. "Your parents could hardly be deemed objective to be able to participate in such a role, Draco, especially given their blood relation. The highway of exchange requires objectivity with regard to the matter at hand. A judge, if you will."
"But –"
"Fear not, if you object overly to the individual I have in mind, I will reconsider."
The headmaster's words didn't seem to mollify Draco in the slightest. His face paled, eyes widening slightly and he took a step towards the old man. It was almost aggressive, and for a moment Harry worried that he would actually launch an attack.
"Professor Dumbledore? Perhaps I could do it?"
At least his words served to stall Draco's offensive response. The blonde boy turned towards Harry, blank faced surprise replacing panic. Harry gave him a small, reassuring smile before looking over his shoulder to Dumbledore. He wasn't sure if the wizard would agree; after all, Harry himself wasn't exactly objective when it came to Draco, but…
Dumbledore had straightened at the suggestion. He didn't speak immediately, and Harry worried that he would reject the proposal outright. But then his eyes narrowed slightly, drifting sideways in consideration.
"Perhaps…" Pale blue eyes turned on Draco, who flinched slightly at being the focus of attention once more. "Would you deem Harry an acceptable participant in this Vow?"
Draco cast a glance towards Harry. His face still bespoke nervousness, but Harry was heartened to see that it had reduced slightly. His friend nodded slowly, then with more confidence. "Yes, yes I… if that is alright with you?" The question was directed to Harry, not Dumbledore, and Harry felt the kindling warmth blossom in his chest. He nodded in reply; his own twist of nervousness, coiling like a fearful snake in his gut, could be easily quashed beneath the expression Draco gave him.
"He is not yet of age. He cannot act as a Conduit." Narcissa's voice was right beside Harry's shoulder. A glance behind his showed that both Draco's parents had slipped silently from their chairs and stepped up behind them. Straight backs, raised chins, it was almost like they physically supported the pair.
"That is an irrelevant fact, Mrs. Malfoy."
"How so?"
"He need not be of age, simply have adequate control of his magic to act as a link between participants." Dumbledore stepped towards them, robes rustling on the floor and a lecturing cast to his tone. Harry thought Narcissa impressive to withhold the scowl she so obviously felt rise to the fore at the condescension. She didn't succumb, but her lips pressed more firmly together in her silence.
Dumbledore, apparently satisfied with the turn of events, shifted his attention to Harry and Draco. "Alright. Shall we begin?"
The gaze Dumbledore affixed Harry with was one filled with trust and confidence, the same expression he had turned upon him several times before and Harry hadn't been able to fathom the meaning of. He hadn't, not for a long time. Not until Draco and Narcissa had told him the tale of the Boys Who Lived at the New Year.
It was a little confronting, to bear witness to Narcissa's soothing tone as she spoke what he suspected was a very censored version of how his parents had lost their lives, and he nearly along with them. It was a little saddening, to think that those two people who held the title of Mother and Father, that he had scarcely spared a thought for at all in years, had cared for him enough to give their lives for him. And it was a little confusing, to understand that the primary reason that Lucius had requested Harry's assistance in their shift of allegiances, the supposed 'trust' that Dumbledore placed in him, was because of an incident that had happened before he could remember. One he had no contribution to, save that he was the only survivor of a brutal homicide.
At least now he knew the reason for Dumbledore's almost fond interest in him, understood the reason for the occasional requests to visit his office to gauge 'how he was doing' in school. He had wondered, if only as a passing thought. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place, and rather than feel the disgruntlement that Draco expressed over Dumbledore's consideration of him being 'only because he might have been the Boy Who Lived', Harry simply felt the satisfaction of understanding. He couldn't blame Dumbledore for his investment in him, even if it was misplaced.
And in this instance, in the act of ensuring Draco's protection, Harry was more than happy to utilize this unfounded trust and confidence.
There wasn't all that much to the preparation of the procedure. Placing Lyssy at his feet, Harry followed Draco and Dumbledore to the center of the room. Standing across from one another before the wide desk, each offered one another their hands and clasped fingers. Draco had paled to a sickly pallor, though Harry wasn't sure if it was to do with the Vow or the shriveled skin of Dumbledore's right hand pressed in his own. He didn't hesitate to clasp their fingers, however, and the headmaster himself was a picture of serenity. Dumbledore offered a reassuring smile, speaking gently as he informed Draco of exactly the words he was to speak.
As directed, Harry placed his own hand over the linked fingers. As soon as his fingers settled, shivering slightly at the coldness of the blackened fingers, Dumbledore raised his wand in his right hand. Without ceremony, he spoke:
'Mutua auxilium.'
A faint glow of pale red surrounded the three hands, as though wrapped in thin filmy cellophane. It laid a different kind of coldness onto Harry's fingers and he fought to suppress another shiver.
"Do you, Draco Malfoy, solemnly attest to your commitment to avoiding the involvement in the exploits of the Dark Lord and his followers, to pertain to the rules of this school and to follow direction and instruction by myself and the Order of the Phoenix should it concern your safety and protection?"
Draco swallowed, but his voice didn't waver. "I do."
Dumbledore nodded. "So be it." A faint ripple of deeper redness pulsed from Dumbledore's fingers to Draco's, disappearing at the sleeve of his robe.
Drawing a deep, quiet breath, Draco spoke. "Do you, Albus Dumbledore, solemnly attest to your commitment to ensuring my protection from the Dark Lord and his followers, to offer your support and aid in the face of threat, and to provide assistance upon request concerning such matters?"
"I do."
"So be it." Another ribbon of red darted between their hands, from Draco to Dumbledore this time, and the colour began to fade, dissipating like smoke.
And that was it. Simple, and Harry had hardly felt the exchange of magic save for a faint ripple through his belly at the open and close. In the moment that Draco and Dumbledore unclasped there hands, however, his magic sparked, jumping sporadically.
It could have been that he kept contact with Dumbledore for just a little longer than Draco. Or perhaps simply the breaking of the handhold had made the coldness of the elderly wizard's finger that much more pronounced. For whatever reason, as Dumbledore withdrew his fingers, Harry gasped, eyes swiveling to train upon the withered hand and reached out toe grab at the fingers once more.
Magnetised. That was the effect. And Harry couldn't draw his gaze away from the sickly blackness.
He was only faintly aware of what he was doing. Distantly, as though recalling a dream, he realised that his state of mind strongly resembled that which had gripped him when he first saw Draco's Dark Mark, but he didn't really consider it. His primary focus rested solely upon the life-draining wound that suddenly made sense to him. Unraveled. Comprehensible. Like jumbled letters that finally sorted themselves into words.
It was cold. And dark. And painful. Not sharp, fiery pain but a deep, chronic ache that disrupted sleep and gradually drew the victim into exhaustion. The longer he stared the greater the quiver of his magic grew, reaching out and running tentative fingers over the shadow. He saw deeper. Not only skin deep, not just bone deep. The drain sucked at the source of the Dumbledore's magic.
It's wrong. Sick, like a disease, or a cancer. It needs to be cut out, to removed. It's killing him. On the fringes of his buzzing consciousness a niggling voice mewled "What? Don't touch that, it is bad, yucky, don't touch!" but he ignored it. Maybe if I could just…
He didn't know exactly what he did. As with Draco's link to the darkness, he simply knew he had to expel the source. An amused voice in the back of his head likened it to a Muggle exorcism, but he ignored the skeptical remark.
He drew it out. He wrapped his magic around the festering disease, locking around the taint like pliers and dragging with a heave. He knew he didn't move a muscle – his hands were still on the husk of blackened fingers – and he didn't make a sound, though he was faintly aware of voices around him. They echoed slightly, and there was a frantic edge to them, but his attention was fully focused.
Another mental heave, and the darkness dislodged. To his magical sense, Harry could see the globe of blackness rise from the surface of the skin, strands of darkness trailing behind it as they extended still into the body of the headmaster. Like parasitic tentacles, they ran up his arm, above and beneath his skin, and sucked on every nodule of magic they could grasp.
No. Let go. That is not yours, so I will. Pull. You. Out.
Another heave and it disconnected. The darkness twitched slightly, hanging suspended in Harry's magical grasp and quivering like a feeble creature cast into harsh weather. Yet Harry felt not a twinge of sympathy. The darkness, the coldness, the greed and the pain it radiated like a sharp smell overwhelmed any inkling of compassion. With a wrenching squeeze of his magic, Harry twisted and compressed, pushing and crushing. The darkness dwindled, shrunk. It receded, and finally with a flicker of invisible silver-magic light in its wake, it disappeared.
Blinking rapidly, awareness of his surroundings fell upon him. Hands gripped his arms, shaking him slightly, and a frantic "Harry, hey, Harry, can you hear me?" became discernible from the warped echoes of sound. Glancing upwards, Harry met Draco's eyes and watched in confusion as the fear and worry slid from his friend's face into relief.
"Thank Merlin," Draco gasped, releasing his grasp for long enough to wipe a hand across his forehead. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Harry shook his head, baffled. His mind felt slow, waded and clogged with cotton balls. No, why would I want to give you a heart attack? It took a delayed moment for him to realise that Draco was exaggerating.
"Harry, dear, are you alright?" Narcissa, her voice soothing, slid into his field of vision. "What happened? How did you…?"
Following the darting motion of Narcissa's eyes, Harry glanced over Draco's shoulder to the headmaster. Dumbledore was immobile, staring intently at something in his hands. No, not in his hands, Harry realised. His hand. The right hand to be precise, a hand that until moments ago had been a crippled, blackened husk of curled fingers.
Now, it looked… renewed. Rejuvinated. If he was to hazard a guess, Harry would even speculate that the right hand looked less wrinkled than the left that cradled it.
"My dear boy, how did you do this?"
Meeting the headmaster's intent gaze, Harry shrugged minutely. He didn't like the way the man looked at him, slightly harshly and a little frustrated, as though he were a puzzle that he couldn't quite work out. "I just… pulled it out."
"Pulled it out? All of it?"
Harry nodded.
Dumbledore dropped his gaze once more and Harry felt the tension seep from his shoulders slightly. "How remarkable… Is this the same as what you conducted on Draco?"
Harry paused, considering for a moment before nodding once more.
"Remarkable…"
In that moment, Harry's knees decided to forfeit their strength and he slumped slightly. He recognised the response; he had only just managed to make it back to Featherwood's rooms after the incident with Draco before his legs collapsed.
Thankfully, this time, Draco offered a hand of support. Slipping his arm around Harry's shoulders, the blonde turned towards the headmaster. "He's unwell, I think. The hospital wing…?"
Blue eyes rose from their study of clasped hands, twinkling behind their half-moon spectacles. "No, not unwell. Simply spent, I would assume. Harry?" The hard intensity had fled from the man's eyes, leaving nothing but faint concern in its wake.
Hary nodded again. He didn't feel sick, just very, very tired.
"And likely magically spent as well." Dumbledore gestured towards the door with his healed hand; had it been anyone else, it may have looked like he was reveling in the use. "Perhaps you would see to accompanying him to the Great Hall, Draco? Breakfast is still in session, I believe, and a meal will not go astray. Chocolate, specifically, but anything sugary will do."
Draco nodded. "Of course, sir." And without further comment turned and nearly carried Harry to the door. Harry murmured a protest at his fussing but Draco merely shushed him, propped the heavy wooden door open with a foot, and led him down the stone steps.
As the door swung closed behind them, Harry turned back at the last moment. Dumbledore, Narcissa and Lucius had moved closer to one another, so close that they could have spoken without being heard from the door. Dumbledore barely spared a glance for their departure. Harry shivered slightly as he noted the return of the hardness to the man's pale eyes, turned instead upon the two Malfoys.
It did not bode well for an amicable discussion.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for continuing to read my story, and an extra thank you for everyone who reviewed. Thank you very much!

As an aside, I'm sorry if I demonised Dumbledore a little. I didn't really intend to, but I'm trying to portray him in a different light; he's not 'mean' or 'heartless', but the kindness he gives to the canon characters is mostly due to his longstanding relationship with them. He doesn't know nor trust the Malfoys (I mean, would you initially? Really?) so he's just not being as forgiving.

Not like he's evil...
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The Masks of Real Heroes