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Chosen Chains	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
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Chapter Two�Welcome
Home

�� Harry
hesitated for a long time before he stepped out into Diagon Alley and walked
towards Eeylops Owl Emporium. A few people still turned to stare at him, but
two years away from the majority of the wizarding world had done their work.
Harry was no longer a subject of continuous gossip or constantly on the front
page of the papers.

�� I�m only doing this for Annie�s sake, he
told himself defensively as he opened the door and heard the weird bell above
it whistle and cheep and hoot. Not
because I want to replace Hedwig.

�� Hermione
would have said that he wasn�t replacing Hedwig if he got another owl, but then
again, Hermione was wrong about a lot of things.

�� The man
behind the counter was just turning around with a tawny owl on his fist. He had
flyaway hair coated with feathers and a long scar next to his eye that Harry
thought a beak had probably caused. �Hullo,� he said. �What kind of owl do you
want?�

�� Harry
hesitated once more, then shook his head. He might as well do this right if he
was going to do it at all. �A swift one,� he said. �I�m going to be distant
from my major correspondents for the next few days.� Or weeks, but he hadn�t
wanted to think about that yet.

�� Well,
speed isn�t the major consideration for a distance owl, you know.� The man set
the tawny bird gently on a nearby perch and came around the counter, focusing
on Harry. If he noticed the lightning bolt scar, he gave no sign. �You need
reliability before anything else, and sometimes the slow, stolid types are
better for that.�

�� But not
all of them?� Harry leaned back reluctantly and looked up at the cages hanging
overhead. He caught a glimpse of a snowy owl, and quickly turned back to the
man. �I want one that�s both reliable and swift, then.�

�� The man
chuckled and moved over to open two wire cages hanging next to each other. The
owls within hopped out tamely, and Harry thought he could use that, a bird who
was friendly. The man turned around and balanced the birds on his outstretched
arms. �These are our best combinations of those two traits. Look your fill.�

�� Harry
focused on the owl on the left. He was small and black, with brown edgings to
the feathers. Harry swallowed. Yes, he was dark, but his golden eyes were just
too much like Hedwig�s.

�� This one,�
he said randomly, and turned to the other owl. She was considerably larger,
staring at him with orange eyes that at least wouldn�t remind him of the dead.
Her feathers were a mixture of different browns, slashed with dark lines and
paler patches. �What�s her name? How much is she?�

�� You can
name her what you wish, of course.� The shopkeeper looked disturbed for the
first time, stroking the owl�s foot with one hand while he watched Harry. �And
she�s an eagle-owl. Not a good choice for a first-time owner.�

�� I had a
snowy owl,� Harry managed to say before his throat closed up. He stared blindly
into a corner of the shop. He shouldn�t be this sad over it, still, he told
himself scathingly.

�� Of course,
he also still shouldn�t be so angry all the time, or so upset when he
remembered the trauma of the war. He didn�t know why time hadn�t healed him the
way it was supposed to have healed everyone else, and frankly he didn�t care.
The methods he knew of dealing with it worked, when he could use them.

�� Ah.� The
shopkeeper�s voice was sympathetic now, and soft. �And you lost her?�

�� Harry
blinked and looked up. No matter how much he mourned Hedwig, a public shop
wasn�t the place to break down about it. �In the war.�

�� The man
nodded. He seemed to completely understand devotion to owls, which Harry
thought was a good sign. �Then it only remains to see if she�s satisfied with
you.� He tilted his arm, and the eagle-owl spread her wings and soared towards
Harry.

�� Harry
braced himself too late. He hadn�t had a lot of experience with owls in the
last few years, after all. Her claws settled on his shoulder, and he winced,
reminding himself to buy gloves and pads so that he could handle her safely.

�� The owl
stared at him from so close that her regard was almost painful. She shifted
restlessly from one foot to another, and Harry wondered how an owl like her
would get along in the Hogwarts Owlery. He started to open his mouth to ask
about her track record of living with other birds, but was interrupted as she
carefully gripped his chin in one talon and turned him more openly to face her.

�� Hold
still,� said the shopkeeper. �She�s evaluating you.�

�� Harry
didn�t much care for the �evaluation.� He stared back, wondering if that was a
sign of aggression to owls the way it sometimes was for dogs. The owl dropped
his chin and fanned her wings out, beating them up and down in a way that
probably indicated something, though Harry wasn�t sure what.

�� She likes
you,� said the shopkeeper, sounding relieved. �Now, you�ll need food, of
course, and a traveling cage, though I should tell you she much prefers to fly,
and there are complimentary treats that��

�� What do
you call her?� Harry interrupted. The owl was still on his shoulder, looking at
him as if he had passed one test but was about to fail the next, and he thought
she would be easier to control if he had a name.

�� Well,
Catherine,� said the man, blinking as though the question were strange. �Just a
fancy of mine. She reminds me of someone I used to know. But you can, of
course, give her a unique name. Most owners of owls prefer to.�

�� Harry shook
his head, grimly amused. He�d been in a Muggle household last week,
interviewing a small boy and his parents who had agreed to send him to a
magical primary school, and had seen an image of a woman facing a sword, her
eyes full of pain but her mouth set and defiant. The boy�s mother had said that
was Saint Catherine, who had been beheaded because the torture wheel they�d
intended to kill her on broke when she touched it. The look in her eyes wasn�t so different from the
owl�s. �Catherine will do.�

*

�� Draco
landed in Hogsmeade with a faint bump but no sound�he had perfected silent
Apparition in the last few years, when he had needed to reach gardens and
private preserves that certain people would rather he not harvest ingredients
in�and looked around with interest. It was some time since he had visited the
town proper.

�� A few
people turned to stare at him, but most of the ones in sight carried on darting
in and out of shops, arguing in the streets, or heading towards the pubs with
looks of weariness on their faces. An ordinary life, an ordinary place. Draco
wondered if they missed the students who hadn�t come for the past several years
because Hogwarts was shut.

�� He did roll
his eyes over that as he started down the path that led to the school. The Ministry ties up the opening for years
because they�re arguing over protocol, and they still imagine that their being
in charge of the running is a good thing?

�� The ground
rolled under him, the track broadened, and there were the gates, open but with
a small group gathered in front of them. Draco raised his eyebrows and
quickened his pace.

�� Potions
master Malfoy, I�m so grateful you could come.� The man who stepped forwards to
pump his hand was a tall, thin stick Draco had seen in the papers more than
once, a kind of undersecretary to the Minister. He had a broad smile and small,
cold, black eyes that should contradict the smile for anyone who wasn�t a
complete fool. His name was Derek Wimpledink. �On behalf of the Ministry of
Magic, welcome.�

�� Draco
nodded in response and turned to look over the rest of the group. There was the
usual collection of Ministry flunkies, Professor Flitwick, a plump woman in
flowing purple robes whose purpose here Draco didn�t know, and�

�� Well,
well,� Draco said. �Greetings, Weasley, Granger.�

�� The man and
woman he was looking at moved closer together. They both wore plain brown
robes, not the bright Auror scarlet, at least for Weasley, that Draco would
have expected. And they didn�t respond, either, which Draco thought was rude of
them.

�� Professor
Granger and Professor Weasley will be teaching at the school when it�s open
again,� said Wimpledink, following Draco�s gaze. �History of Magic and Defense
Against the Dark Arts will benefit from their presence.�

�� Draco
nodded without looking away from the pair. Their presence was a surprise for
more than one reason, now that he could think clearly. They had opposed the
Ministry taking over Hogwarts in the first place. He wondered what had made
them decide to cooperate, and then smiled to himself. In Weasley�s case, it
could have been a large enough wage.

�� We�re
waiting for only one more,� Wimpledink was saying, �and then we can try to
confront the roots of this problem.�

�� A noisy
Apparition answered him, and then Draco heard a horribly familiar voice say,
�Oh, fuck, Malfoy, not you.�

�� He took his
time turning around, because that would let him get his face under control.
Then he inclined his head and murmured, �Oh, dear, Potter. No one told me you
were coming, or I would have been ready to greet you properly.�

�� Potter
stood in the middle of the path behind him, one hand in his pocket as he
studied Draco. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder, for all the world as
if he were still a schoolboy, and eyes that were darker than Draco remembered
them being. Of course, that wouldn�t be hard, Draco thought. He didn�t remember
Potter�s eyes all that well.

�� Except for the way they looked when he
stared over his shoulder at the Fiendfyre.

�� Draco
shrugged a bit. The nightmares weren�t something he could stop, which made it
stupid to try. Severus would have taught him that, except that Draco had
already known it when he tried.

�� No one
told me you were coming, either,� Potter said, and his eyes flashed at Draco
before he turned his head to study Wimpledink and the rest of his merry little
band. Draco followed his glance, because it was going to be amusing to see
Potter start at the sight of his friends.

�� What he
did, though, was more amusing than jumping. Instead, he firmed his hold on the
satchel and gritted his teeth, so much that Draco could hear it from where he
stood. And although Granger and Weasley were trying to look stoic and aloof,
they wore expressions of acute discomfort.

�� That�s interesting, Draco decided, and
decided also that he would hoard the information for further use. He had plenty
of purposes in coming to Hogwarts already, plenty of things to keep him busy,
but this would add an extra spice.

�� Potter marched
up the path with a dignity that surprised Draco until he remembered that the
man had been in the Aurors before he got sacked for�something. Seeing the way
he leaned forwards on his toes, the air around him turning hot and shimmering,
Draco wondered if it was for lack of control over his magic.

�� I�m here,�
Potter said. �Where�s the old man?�

�� The
portrait, you mean?� Wimpledink had the slightly wrinkled nose of someone who
valued clearer language than Potter was currently using. �Upstairs, of course,
in the Headmaster�s office. At least, the one you�re speaking to.� He turned to Draco with a determined
politeness that Draco thought would have cut anyone more sensitive than Potter.
Of course, it was impossible to be less sensitive. �The one you are speaking
to, former Professor and Headmaster Snape, is in the dungeons.�

�� Draco
nodded. He had known that, despite his lack of courage in coming to visit.

�� Why do you
need to talk to Snape?� Potter asked. He seemed to be addressing Draco
directly, rather than Wimpledink. �They told me Dumbledore held the information
they needed to break into a hidden place, but was hiding it for some reason.�

�� That�s what
they told me, too,� Draco said. �Only it was Snape who supposedly had the
information.�

�� Potter spun
around and raised his wand. It pointed straight at Wimpledink�s forehead, and
Draco heard the man swallow a whimper. Well, he might do the same thing if he
was on the end of the Savior�s wand, though of course he would conceal it
rather better.

�� What were
you planning?� Potter asked, in a voice like boulders grinding against one
another. �That we�d never run into each other? That we�d arrive at different
times? Answer me, dumbarse.�

*

�� Harry knew
what Hermione�s expression would be without looking at her: a mingling of
resignation, sadness, and disapproval. He knew that Ron would be leaning
forwards, half-wanting to support Harry but also conscious that he was going
too far.

�� It pained
him to realize how well he still knew them, even after two years� exile.

�� The
Ministry functionary rolled his eyes down to the wand and then looked back into
Harry�s face. Harry reluctantly supposed that made him tougher than some of the
others. But he still wasn�t moving until Harry got an answer. No one had told
him that he was going to be working with Malfoy, of all people.

�� For that
matter, no one had told him he was going to be here for as long as it sounded
like the task would take, if it was complex enough that Snape and Dumbledore
shared the knowledge between them.

�� The
Ministry man cleared his throat and said, �Mr. Potter, if you�ll let us
explain, I�m sure you�ll understand.�

�� Then
explain,� Harry said, not moving his wand. It wasn�t as if it was heavy.

�� Hermione
stepped forwards. Harry knew it because he could hear the rustling noise of her
robe coming from the direction she�d been standing, but he also knew it because
he recognized her step. It seemed that bonds he�d thought he�d torn up when he
left still had their anchors in his flesh.

�� Be
reasonable, Harry,� she said. �I saw the Ministry message before it was sent.
It told the truth. They need the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor and a few
other artifacts to reopen Hogwarts, and they can�t do that without information
from the portraits, and they can�t talk to the portraits without you.�

�� How
strange, Hermione,� Harry said, and kept the flunky in his line of sight. �To
find you working with the Ministry and approving their messages and all the
rest of it. But then, I reckon I should have expected that.�

�� The air
between them seemed to throb, though Harry knew no one else there but Hermione
and Ron would feel it the same way. The name he had called her in their last
conversation, the one that had destroyed everything between them and ensured no
owls for the last two years, still lingered.

�� Traitor.

�� She�s
right, mate,� Ron said. �It�s true that they can�t open the school without you
and Malfoy.�

�� Harry
twitched a little. The reminder that Malfoy stood beside him was like a needle
through his ear. Then again, Malfoy was actually the least of his problems
right now, which might make him the most tolerable person to work with.

�� And what
are you going to do if you do reopen
Hogwarts?� he asked, still watching the Ministry man. �I think last time there
was talk of appointing the Headmaster and the governors, so that the school
would be run under your auspices.�

�� There was
also talk of abolishing Slytherin House, the last I heard,� Malfoy volunteered
unexpectedly, �and using the Sorting Hat to find and send away the students who
would be Sorted into that House.�

�� Harry
turned his head. Malfoy was standing there with arms folded, looking mildly
amused. The wind didn�t touch a hair of his head, Harry noted. He probably had
some charm in place to ensure that it wouldn�t, either.

�� Why?�
Harry asked.

�� They still
blame us for the war,� Malfoy answered. �They somehow think that banishing
children from the school and not training them would be the same thing as not
training any Dark wizards.� He paused. �May I say how impressed I am that you
know a big word like auspices, Potter?�

�� Harry
grunted and turned back to the Ministry flunky. �I wonder why Snape�s portrait
refuses to help you?�

�� The man
sighed and finally seemed inclined to speak for himself. �Mr. Malfoy has
unfortunately misrepresented a complex situation,� he said. �The Minister is
still considering several actions that could be undertaken in order to better
the education of our future�s more precious resources.�

�� You�re his
speechwriter,� Harry said. �I know the type. You make words mean what they
don�t want to mean.�

�� Malfoy
stepped up to stand at Harry�s shoulder, staring at him in interest�or perhaps
at the Ministry flunky in interest, Harry thought. It wasn�t as though he had
any idea of how Malfoy�s twisted, perverted mind worked. He did, however, think
how strange it was that he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Malfoy
against the side his best friends were on.

�� Or former best friends. Harry still
didn�t know how to think about them after the horrible conversation that had taken
place the last time they�d seen each other.

�� Are we
going to stand here discussing irrelevant matters all day, or are we going to
go inside and let you begin your speech with the portraits?� The flunky had
finally begun to look like a real person instead of a patient martyr. �After
all, that is what you came here for.�

�� Why should
I speak with Dumbledore and help you if you�re going to treat the school
badly?� Harry asked.

�� I�m not
the right one to reassure you about this,� the man said, smoothly and
instantly. �There are other Ministry officials who would have the level of
power that might content you. I will contact them when we are inside the
school.�

�� Harry
snorted in disgust. There was an old and long-abused Ministry tactic: passing
the responsibility up the line so that someone else could be afflicted with it.
On the other hand, he didn�t see how he could do much more here. It was only
too obvious that the others in the group lacked the courage to interfere, or
they would have already.

�� Then let�s
go,� he said. �But you might as well note that I�m not going to talk to any portraits until you hand me a good
reason to be content with the Ministry�s goals.�

�� The
Ministry man looked as if he wanted to do a little dance of rage, but instead
he cleared his throat and nodded. �I understand,� he said. �Though I grieve
that you do not take a lesson in calm and poise from Potions master Malfoy.�

�� Of course the git is a Potions master, Harry
thought, and opened his mouth to say that as far as he was concerned, Malfoy
could go fuck himself. Malfoy spoke before he could, voice so smooth and
inviting it took Harry a moment to get past the tone of his words to their
content.

�� I am
afraid you still misunderstand. I will not be speaking to Professor Snape,
either, until the Ministry answers Potter�s challenges.�

�� Harry
turned to gape at Malfoy. He only got a raised eyebrow and a supremely
irritating smile of the kind that the prat probably saved up for non-Slytherins
in return.

*

�� Draco knew
he was taking a risk, allying himself with Potter. Apart from the danger to his
own goals and to the cooperation with the Ministry he suspected would be a
necessity in the end, he didn�t yet understand everything about the
complexities of the situation. Why were Potter and Weasley-and-Granger on
opposite sides? Why had Wimpledink assumed he would be able to handle Potter
with no trouble? Why did Potter move with his magic boiling around him,
constantly on edge, even well before anyone had antagonized him?

�� On the
other hand, the Ministry seemed more confrontational and patronizing than Draco
had expected. It would do no great harm to use Potter as an icebreaker and let
the heavy blows fall on him.

�� Wimpledink
led the way up to Hogwarts, with the rest of the people who had been waiting
with him straggling behind in a rough line. Weasley-and-Granger dropped back to
try and talk to Potter, but he gave them a freezing glare the likes of which
Draco hadn�t seen since Severus was alive, and they hurried up again.

�� What
brings you back here, Potter, beyond the obvious?� Draco asked. �And why are
your best friends avoiding you?�

�� That got
him the freezing glare in return, but Draco returned it with a bland look, and
waited. Anyone could see that Potter was exploding with the wish to talk about
himself, as usual. Enough silence would produce an effect.

�� Draco made
a mental note to try silence on his sentient potion when he worked with it
here. It was a stimulus that he hadn�t thought useful so far, because the
potion would simply hide in the cauldron, but he had reached a more advanced
stage now and should start thinking of subtler challenges.

�� Potter,
though, only stamped along the path with his eyebrows bent down and his face
shut like a door. Draco shrugged one shoulder and looked away from him, up at
Hogwarts.

�� The
Ministry had done a fine job of rebuilding the towers, Draco thought
critically, and the gates, and restoring the strip of land between the front
doors and the lake that had been thoroughly blasted and burned in the battle.
Every stone was in place, or at least enough that Draco�s memories couldn�t
tell him they looked any different. The grass grew in neat patterns. The lake
shimmered in the reluctant sunlight. The castle might pass as magical and
strange to a first-year who had never seen it.

�� But.

�� Draco could
notice other differences, ones that might not matter to a Muggleborn. The
Forbidden Forest had been cut back, leaving only stumps where the outer edge of
trees had once began. A railing now surrounded the edge of each tower. The
gates were lower than they had been, the doors made of lighter wood, as if to
reassure timid children that they wouldn�t find anything truly frightening
inside.

�� Draco
suspected the Ministry had done as much in the name of safety as it had in the
name of attractiveness. That didn�t keep him from criticism, especially as one
of their �safety� procedures was apparently to banish Slytherins.

�� They
stepped into the entrance hall, smaller and darker and cooler than Draco
remembered it. Wimpledink raised a grand wrist. �Welcome, witches and wizards,
to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.�

�� What
you�ve left of it,� Potter said, not even in a whisper.

�� Wimpledink
gave Potter a look of open hatred. Draco raised an eyebrow. He wondered if the
Ministry had deliberately sent their least diplomatic man, on the idea that
Potter wouldn�t be diplomatic anyway and there was no point in using soft
words, or if Wimpledink had angled for the position for his own reasons.

�� Or if the
Ministry simply had no idea how to handle Potter. They hadn�t made the most of
their genuine hero when they had him.

�� The Headmaster�s
portrait is in his office,� said Wimpledink, speaking through gritted teeth and
trying to pretend that he wasn�t. �Shall we proceed?�

�� Why should
we, when you have admitted that you can�t answer Potter�s questions and you
have to wait until someone comes who can?� Draco cocked his head. �Show us to
the quarters prepared for us instead.�

�� Potter
looked positively ill. �I�m staying in Hogsmeade,� he said quickly. �I�ll wait
here until the Ministry representative comes.�

�� We�d
thought you would stay in Hogsmeade, too, Potions master,� Wimpledink told
Draco. �I�m afraid that no quarters have been prepared for you.�

�� Draco
remained still and let his silence speak for itself. He was giving up valuable
time to come here, he had a large number of trunks floating behind him, and
they proposed to make him pay for his own space and meals?

�� Wimpledink�s
face turned red, and he looked at the ground and mumbled something that might
have been an apology. Draco added a further hypothesis to his collection of
them concerning Wimpledink�s presence. Perhaps he was simply young and
inexperienced, and had taken over something that was his due to the functions
of his office, but ought not to properly belong to him.

�� You can
stay in the dungeons, Mr. Malfoy,� said McGonagall then. Her voice was a shadow
of its old firmness, Draco thought. Perhaps fighting with the Ministry for six
years over Hogwarts had worn her down. �There are rooms the house-elves can
prepare without trouble, and I�m sure that you would want to be close to your
old House.�

�� The House
that�s in danger of vanishing,� Draco said. �Mr. Wimpledink, can you verify
that rumor?�

�� More
flushing, more mumbling. Draco had expected no more, but he had thought he�d
ask. He cast a Tempus Charm and
asked, �How soon can we expect your replacement?�

�� A worse
flush than before, but Wimpledink managed to look up and into Draco�s eyes as
he said, �I am going to owl now, Potions master. Someone should be here within
two or three hours.�

�� Excellent,�
Draco said, and turned to follow McGonagall down to the dungeons. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Potter making again for the doors to Hogwarts, with
Granger and Weasley both chasing after him while trying to look as if they
weren�t running.

�� The spirit
of mischief that not all of Severus�s teaching had been able to tame made Draco
add, �Coming, Potter?�

�� Potter
turned and stared at him. Draco couldn�t as easily see the shimmer of
uncontrolled magic inside a building, but he thought it was still there. The
last few moments would have done nothing for Potter�s tension, after all. He
bared his teeth now, as if he wanted to tear something apart and Draco would serve as well anything else.

�� What would
I want with your company, Malfoy?�

�� There are
things that I could tell you,� Draco said. �Since we�ve been summoned for such
similar purposes, they might be to your advantage. But I forgot that Harry
Potter can stand on his own.� He bowed and started to turn away again.

�� Wait.�

�� Draco
turned to see Potter striding towards him and Granger and Weasley reversing
their course like mice who�d spied a cat. Potter gave no sign that he�d noticed
them. He halted next to Draco and looked him up and down, maintaining the same
expression of arrogant disdain that had polluted his face ever since he arrived
here. That expression, while better than the wide smile that Draco had so often
seen him wear as a schoolboy, had its drawbacks; it would not let Draco see how
fine his features were.

�� Fine? How Severus would laugh at that.

�� But Draco
did not have Severus�s problems with Potter or his father, problems he had
begun to guess the source of when Severus�s will gave Draco certain photographs
and a few letters. He could extend an invitation if he wanted to, and it would
be only Potter�s fault if he refused. He waited now.

�� If you�re
fucking with me,� Potter whispered, �you should know that I can destroy you.�

�� You
shouldn�t make the most dramatic threat first,� Draco murmured. �If your
opponent stands up to you, it renders the rest of what you can do useless.�

�� Potter
stepped back and stared at Draco the way he might a statue he was considering
buying. The greatest of Draco�s rewards at that moment was the utterly
flummoxed expression on Weasley�s face, which he saw from a corner of his eye.

�� You talk
good sense sometimes,� Potter said. �Interesting. Yes, Malfoy, we�ll have a
discussion.�

�� Harry,�
Granger said, in what was a tone of genuine anguish if Draco was any judge. Of
course, the only people he normally got to judge on such things with were
addicts craving the latest dose of their potions, so he wouldn�t venture to say
for sure it was authentic.

�� Shut up,
Hermione.� The words were flat and not particularly blistering, but the glare
Potter gave her was. She shrank back against Weasley, who looked as though he
was struggling to choose among seven different insults.

�� All this
time, Draco noticed, McGonagall and Flitwick stood there silently, as if Potter
and his friends were participants in a drama for their own personal amusement.
Another thing he would have to investigate.

�� This way,
then,� Draco told Potter, and set off down to the dungeons with Potter at his
side and the former Head of Gryffindor leading the way. He hoped that Severus
would appreciate the irony in that when Draco told him.

*

�� Harry had
known he was going to hate the Ministry�s iron attempts to force him to obey
its will, but he hadn�t realized how much
he would hate it.

�� The
flunkey�Wimpledink�had put up a delay, and meanwhile everyone else went along
with it. It made Harry�s heart roast to see how meekly McGonagall accepted the
Ministry�s interference. And Flitwick hadn�t done anything about it, either.

�� Hogwarts
had been closed for six years. Maybe they were tired of fighting and thought
the Ministry was the best chance to get the school running again. Maybe they
planned to introduce changes later, into a living body of students where they
would be more difficult for the Ministry to detect.

�� But Harry
thought they�d given up, and he was disgusted.

�� And Ron and
Hermione�

�� Harry
shifted his shoulders to settle them. He shouldn�t think about these things
when he was walking beside Malfoy. His new old nemesis had quicker eyes and a
sharper intelligence than Harry would have liked. He might notice something
wrong and begin to link events together in a chain that would bind Harry to the
past.

�� But the
thoughts were there no matter whether Harry wanted them or not. He�d met Ron
and Hermione in these dungeons on that last day, after all, coming back from
trying to speak with Snape�s portrait about the changes the Ministry would
make. Snape had done nothing but turn his back. Dead or alive, he wouldn�t
forgive.

�� We�re worried about you,� Hermione had
said. Her face was bright wet with tears. Harry knew what she and Ron had to
have been talking about. It was obvious, and they had discussed it before, and
when would she leave him the fuck alone? �We just�Harry, you have to consider
that maybe this pathology is a result of what happened to you during the war.
And before it. Being manipulated by Dumbledore and other forceful adult males
all your life. Don�t you think that wanting someone to bind you and order you
around is the result of twisted psychology? It�s not normal. It�s not you.�

�� Harry knew she thought those words. She had
hinted at it before when Harry first told her and Ron how he sometimes sought
stress relief. And she had been furious when Harry revealed the full extent of
Dumbledore�s manipulations, instead of supporting his plans, like Harry thought
she would, because they worked.

�� But she�d never said anything like this
before, these statements that went off like detonations in his chest. Harry
folded his arms across his chest and nodded slowly. �My sexuality is
pathological, is it?�

�� Harry, I never said��

�� Yes, you did,� Harry said, and seized the
knife of knowledge he�d never planned to use and twisted it. �So everything
that you two enjoy�the way you like Ron to hold you down on the bed and fuck
you hard�goes back to your psychology, too. Mustn�t it? The way you like a bit
of pain, that comes from the way Bellatrix tortured you. And his hold on your
wrists reminds you of the way that the Snatchers dragged us around. And��

�� Stop it, mate!� Ron had surged forwards, his
fists flying, and Harry had raised a Shield Charm. Hermione stood there, too
shocked to cry, one hand over her heart as if his speech had really cut her
there.

�� No,� Harry said, and he kept his voice
cool, and he meant every vicious word. �Why should I? She�s convinced this one
thing, this one thing that I only do every few months when I need it, goes back to the
war and that that�s bad. Well, then her sexuality goes back to the war and it�s
bad, too. Why not? She was tortured. I never was. She went through some of the
same things I did. It only makes sense.�

�� Ron had stopped, his arms falling to his
sides. �Bastard,� he whispered. Hermione was crying, now, with little
hiccoughing sounds. �Do you know how long it took her to get comfortable with
what she wanted? Do you know how much this has hurt her?�

�� Do you know how long it took me to figure
out what worked, and what would keep me from destroying everything in sight?�
Harry looked back at Hermione. �I told you that, trusting you, and she�s the
one who decided it was a disease. She�s a traitor. Tell me, Hermione, how many
Healers have you talked with about me?�

�� Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and
whispered, �Just one.�

�� Traitor,� Harry had repeated, and then
walked past them, and up towards the light, where he knew he would find the
Ministry�s news of his being sacked from the Aurors waiting.

�� They didn�t try to stop him.

�� Mr.
Potter, I would appreciate it if you didn�t burn down the dungeons before we
reach Mr. Malfoy�s rooms. Among other things, it would involve burning
Severus�s portrait.�

�� Harry blinked
and looked up. He had honestly almost forgotten where he was, caught back in
that moment of twisted time when he had lost his best friends and his root of
security in the wizarding world both at once. And his body shimmered with
transparent green flame, moving back and forth in response to silent winds.

�� Sorry,
ma�am,� he murmured, and pulled back the fire into himself with an effort.
McGonagall nodded and strode ahead. Harry knew the abrupt movements were, among
other things, attempts to hide her discomfort with his magic. He had seen that
tactic so many times by now it no longer held any surprises.

�� He glanced
sideways to see what Malfoy�s coping technique would be, and found him staring
directly, calmly, at Harry, one fist beneath his chin as though he were
considering a Potions problem.

�� Aren�t you
worried that I�ll burn down the dungeons?� Harry asked him.

�� Why should
I be?� Malfoy took his hand away from his chin to gesture at the dungeon walls.
�One improvement that I think we can commend the Ministry for is the addition
of very powerful anti-fire wards. When I see that your magic can devour such
wards, I�ll worry. Not until then.� He continued walking, though he kept one
eye on Harry as if to see what he would do when confronted with this bit of
wisdom.

�� You�ve
changed,� Harry said after a moment. He saw no reason to conceal his shock if
Malfoy refused to conceal his fearlessness.

�� More than
you know.� Malfoy gave him a faint smile. �Now. Do you intend to discuss a possible alliance with me, or continue
to be as rude and difficult as possible?�

�� McGonagall
drew in a snort of air that sounded like a stifled chuckle. Harry glared ahead
at her, but she continued stolidly walking, presenting a back that he couldn�t
see through as easily as a face.

�� I�ll
cooperate,� he said at last. He didn�t think he would have needed help if the
situation had been less complex in even one dimension�somewhere else than
Hogwarts, without the portraits of two men he owed debts of both honor and disgust
to, with his best friends who seemed to feel they were wronged hovering in the
background and the Ministry trying to stymie him and months having gone past
since his last stress relief session. But all those things were present, so he
would accept it.

�� Malfoy
nodded briskly. �Excellent.�

�� These are
your rooms,� McGonagall said suddenly, stopping and throwing back a door that
Harry hadn�t even seen.

�� It took
Harry a long moment to recognize the chambers beyond the door, and when he did,
he wanted to let the fire flare up again. It took him a supreme effort to keep
it inside his body and preserve some semblance of a neutral expression on his
face.

�� They had
changed Snape�s rooms. Now they were wide and spacious, with enchanted windows
pumping in light from three walls and torches blazing on the other, as though
the Ministry assumed that all the darkness found here was merely physical. The
chairs that stood together in companionable twos and threes were red and gold.
The shelves held modern treatises on Potions making, without a sign of Snape�s
dusty old books that had still been there when Harry last came two years ago to
speak with the portrait. And there were no vials, cauldrons, or other apparatus
to make Potions anywhere in sight.

�� Once
again, Potter�s mouth is so wide open that I can see straight into his skull
and divine that he has learned nothing in the last few years.�

�� Harry
raised his eyes. The portrait of Snape was still there, placed above one of the
bookshelves next to a window. He still looked the same as he had been�well, why
wouldn�t he? Harry thought in the next instant�dressed in black robes with a
scroll of dark green along the side. He had a desk, a table, a shelf with what
looked like his books and a cauldron
burning and bubbling in the picture with him. The frame was dusty gold.

�� Harry
caught his eye once and then looked away. He didn�t think he could continue to
study Snape and not be overwhelmed by the memories, which would probably make
him look like a gaping idiot.

�� In turning
his head, he got to see the complicated expression that came over Malfoy�s
face, and decided that he wasn�t the only one struggling not to drown here.

*

�� He was the
same.

�� Severus
himself had taught Draco to be suspicious of magical portrait-painters. They
promised far more than they could deliver, Severus said, gazing into one of the
campfires they had built during the nights of their escape. This one was in an
abandoned Muggle shack. Draco could still smell the odors of dust and dirt and
something killed bloodily not far away if he concentrated.

�� Magical
portraits are a portion of the person
they represent,� Severus told the air or the flames, and Draco�s listening
ears, which he never chose to acknowledge. �Not the whole. Painters, of course,
like to claim they are, especially if they can give them the original�s most
recent memories. But they claim that to be seen as better at their jobs, and so
hired again. It is not true.�

�� Severus had
sounded certain. Draco, when conversing with the portraits of his grandparents,
had no reason to believe that it wasn�t true.

�� But still,
there he was, black eyes the same as ever, smile still twisted, one hand
resting on the cauldron as he leaned forwards to study Draco.

�� The
latecomer and the idiot,� he said, and his eyes shifted to McGonagall. �And the
cat.�

�� How
flattering to be given a neutral nickname,� McGonagall said dryly. She was
comfortable with him, Draco thought, while he structured his thoughts carefully
to avoid absorbing what Severus had called him.
For the first time since Draco had seen her again, McGonagall moved with the
brisk step and the stern face he remembered. �Mr. Malfoy is here to stay in
your rooms and speak with you, Severus. And Mr. Potter is here to speak with
Albus�s portrait, if he will agree.�

�� Severus
narrowed his eyes and drew himself back like a snake about to strike. Draco
found himself wondering if magical portrait-painters could also add traits that
weren�t there. He didn�t remember that particular gesture.

�� So it has
come,� Severus murmured, and then, while McGonagall started to summon
house-elves to dust and clean, he focused his attention on Draco again.

�� It was one
thing to carry one�s old mentor in the mind, Draco thought, and another thing
to face him again. He took a deep breath and moved carefully forwards, trying
to brace himself for the criticism. �I�m sorry I never came before,� he
murmured.

�� I am only
a picture of the man who protected you and kept you from having to splinter
your soul with killing,� Severus replied at once. �Why would you think it was
important to see me?�

�� Draco
winced and sought for a suitable reply. Behind him, Potter said, �I see that
you haven�t picked up any politeness from the other portraits. Probably none of
them want to come near you. Have you tried washing your hair?�

�� Severus
leaned forwards, ready for combat. �I can see that you have not managed to make
yours obedient to a comb.�

�� Draco
stepped between them and shook his head at Severus. �He�s an ally against the
Ministry,� he said, his voice unexpectedly calm, at least to his own ears. Who
knew what Potter or Severus might have been expecting? �Please don�t taunt
him.� He turned his head and fixed Potter with a gentle gaze. �The same goes
for you.�

�� If you
knew what he said to me when I was last here�� Potter began.

�� Don�t,�
Draco snapped.

�� Potter
blinked and fell silent, looking back and forth from him to Severus. Then he
shrugged. �If he can hold his tongue,� he muttered, �then I�ll listen.�

�� Am I to be
managed under the same precept, when he was the one who began the insults?�
Severus asked. Draco looked back and saw that his pose was familiar this time,
as if he were readying himself to resist physical attack from an enemy. His
wand in his hand and his guarded eyes above the automatic sneer betrayed that.

�� I�m sure
that Potter is very sorry he began his reacquaintance with you like that.�
Draco turned and gave Potter a glare.

�� Potter
glared back for a few instants, arms folded as if anticipating an attack
himself, then snorted and flipped a hand. �Why not? I�m sorry.�

�� Draco
looked at Severus. He had settled against the rim of his cauldron again, and
regarded them both with the sort of lazy glance Draco had seen dissolve into
action at a moment�s notice. �Very well,� he said. �I accept his half-hearted
apology. And I intend to talk to you when there are no other living ears here
to listen.�

�� McGonagall
turned towards the portrait and frowned. �I never understood why you refused to
trust me with the keys to finding those artifacts, Severus.� Her injured
dignity filled her voice, but was at least quiet, Draco thought, unlike the
scene that Granger would have made. �You must know that I care as much about
Hogwarts as you do.�

�� I care for
Hogwarts not at all,� Severus said, with his lip jerking sideways. Draco
recognized the signs of a lie, but didn�t think that McGonagall would. �I care
for the fact that your precious Albus, in death as in life, has laid certain
rules on me that I cannot break.�

�� McGonagall
sighed and turned to Draco. �The house-elves will bring this back to livable
conditions within a short time, Mr. Malfoy.�

�� Thank
you,� Draco said, and then waited until she got the point. Her nostrils flared,
but she went to the door and opened it.

�� We are not
the enemy,� she said over her shoulder. �And there are good people in the
Ministry who want only to reform the school so as to bring it into line with
practical principles. I wish you would not despise all of them.�

�� No one in
the room answered her, probably because her self-evidently sugared words
deserved none, though Potter�s face burned as if he would like to. McGonagall
stepped through the door and shut it, and Draco moved his hand in the quick
motion that would trigger the wards Severus favored. They still engaged, which
reassured Draco that no one had touched the deeper levels of these rooms.

�� It is good
that you have come at last,� Severus said. He was leaning forwards when Draco
turned back to the portrait, and seemed prepared to ignore Potter�s existence.
�If you had come earlier, then I could have told you that Dumbledore wanted to
summon Potter, and we could have avoided these games.�

�� If you
think that I�d answer a summons from Malfoy without a question,� Potter
retorted, �being a portrait has affected
your brain.�

�� Draco once
again found himself forced into the role of peacemaker as Severus began a spell
Draco knew would prevent Potter from using the loo comfortably for a week.
�It�s better this way,� he said loudly, and held Severus�s eye until he
grudgingly lowered his wand. �It would have been difficult to force access to
the school through Ministry guards and wards.�

�� Perhaps
you are right,� said Severus, with the slow tone that he used towards all
practical suggestions he hadn�t thought of himself. �Nevertheless, this game
was meant to move much faster. Dumbledore never intended that Hogwarts should
remain closed for six years.�

�� Acknowledged,�
Draco said, and Summoned a chair across the floor so that he could sit down.
Even if these weren�t the chairs that he would have chosen to furnish Severus�s
rooms, they were comfortable. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Potter
had no hesitation in drawing up a seat of his own. �What �game� is this?�

�� Severus
looked once at the door, nodded, and then sat down in his chair and clasped his
hands on his knees. Draco�s heart quickened despite himself. He recognized that
teaching posture from fires at night and private sessions in Severus�s office
that had been called �detentions� to placate other professors.

�� Albus was
concerned about what would happen after his death,� Severus began. �You know
now that he was dying for most of a year, and had time to plan.�

�� Draco
swallowed and nodded. It had been beyond humiliating to be told that Dumbledore
knew about Draco�s attempts to murder him all along and was more concerned with
trying to save Draco, as if he was still a child, but it was also a revelation
that he had come to terms with years ago.

�� Among
other things, he did not wish to see the school taken over by the Ministry, and
since this was the year after they attempted to place the bitch Umbridge in the
Headmaster�s position, he had no doubt they would try.� Severus�s nostrils flared
delicately. �I agreed with him, and I helped him cast the wards that are now
buried in the stones of the school itself, only to be undone by speaking the
proper words. The wards will not only keep the Sorting Hat and other needful
things hidden, but also prevent any repairs or reforms made to the school from
taking hold unless done by wizards of good heart and true devotion to the end
of the students� education.�

�� Draco
stared. He had heard of such magic, of course, but it was even more
experimental than sentient potions. �How did you manage that?� he demanded.

�� Severus
somehow managed to look down his nose at Draco, despite his nose being only a
daub of paint. �Remember who we are speaking of, Draco. This was Albus Dumbledore, and he knew more about
magic than the Dark Lord himself. Than any thirty wizards.�

�� Draco
raised his eyebrows. He could have made an issue of the undertone of pride in
Severus�s voice, and the fact that Severus still seemed to prize Dumbledore�s
reputation far beyond what he had told Draco he did in life, but he saw no
reason to. �All right,� Draco said. �Say this was possible. Why us? Why
couldn�t you have told the words to someone else, like McGonagall, and let her
negotiate with the Ministry for a fairer settlement?�

�� Severus
grimaced and touched one hand to his forehead the way he sometimes had when a
fleck of potion had landed there. �Because our former selves were too clever. Albus feared what might
happen if my mental shields broke down and the Dark Lord realized I was a spy
and managed to remove the knowledge of the wards from my head along with
everything else. Those wards might make Hogwarts a sanctuary in times of war,
superior to any other.�

�� But that
didn�t happen,� Potter interrupted. Draco could have wished he would express
his next words more diplomatically, but he said what Draco was thinking. �Why
didn�t the wards hold back the Death Eaters?�

�� Whoever the
painter was, limited or not, he had done a fine job, Draco thought, in
capturing Severus�s perfect pained expression in the face of a Harry Potter
witticism. �Because my former self knew the words to unlock them, of course.
And he felt he must to maintain his cover as a spy. Albus considered that
all-important.�

�� Draco
nodded. �And you and the portrait version of Dumbledore no longer know the
words to unlock them, I take it.�

�� Severus
shook his head. �Those words are guarded by a series of riddles. We retain the
knowledge of the riddles, but not of their answers.� He paused, and then added,
in a tone Draco had never heard him use before, alive or painted, �I�do not
remember much about how I came to be here. In fact, I have very few memories of
my former self�s last six months, and have had to rely on others for the
details. My belief is that my former self cast a spell that ensured only he,
and he alone, would know the full sequence of riddles and unlocking words after
Albus died. And, of course, that means that the portrait version of Albus does
not have them, either.�

�� Draco
raised his eyebrows. It sounded unnecessarily convoluted; he was sure that he
himself would have come up with a more elegant and graceful solution. Then
again, he had not had the charge of hundreds of students on his shoulders
during that war. His burdens had seemed too heavy to carry during that time,
and he had not borne them well. �So we need to solve the riddles and find those
words, which will enable us to undo the wards.�

�� Severus
looked relieved for the summary. �Yes.�

�� Why us,
though?� Potter again asked the question burning on the tip of Draco�s tongue.
Draco frowned and hoped he would stop that soon. �Like he said, you could have
trusted anyone with the riddles, including McGonagall.�

�� I trust
only Draco,� Severus said harshly.

�� Draco felt
as though someone had splashed a great draught of Firewhisky down his throat.
Even as his mind rushed to point out that the words could not be completely
true, because this Severus also still trusted Dumbledore, it was a balm.

�� And
Dumbledore only trusts me?� Potter was eyeing the portrait skeptically. �I find
that hard to believe, with as far as his trust extended during his lifetime.�

�� Even to you. Draco could hear the words
as easily as if Potter had spoken them. Severus�s face tightened again. �Rather
say that he trusts only you to do something this time-consuming and potentially
risky,� Severus said silkily. �You made something of a specialty of solving
mysteries during your Hogwarts days, and surviving the challenges posed by
those mysteries.�

�� Ron and
Hermione did, too,� said Potter, and here his thoughts split apart from
Draco�s, because Draco had been about to ask the far more important question of
what challenges those were, and
whether they were life-threatening.

�� They have
given some of their allegiance to the Ministry,� Severus said. �Not, I believe,
the whole, but enough that they wish to see Hogwarts open and functioning
before anything else. With Granger�s reforming impulse, no doubt she believes
she can best change the structure from the inside.�

�� Potter
snorted. �Yeah, that sounds like her,� he muttered, and the bitterness in his
voice sparked against Draco�s senses. He really would have to find out what that was about.

�� I think
we�ve established that we�re the only ones who can handle this, and that it
would be for the best if we worked together,� Draco sad. �Unless Potter has
doubts on that score.�

�� Potter
blinked and looked up. Draco didn�t remember him having such a tendency to
disappear into his own head before this, but then again, that wasn�t a trait that
one spent much time looking for in schoolboy rivals. �What? Oh, no. No, I
don�t.�

�� I have
considerable ones,� Severus said, shaking his head sadly, the way he had when
he told Draco about a student who might make a decent Potions master if ninety
percent of his brain was replaced. �But this is not my decision. It is
Albus�s.� He looked sideways at Potter. �You should speak with him soon.�

�� Can�t you
give Malfoy the first riddle?� Potter asked impatiently. �Then we can start
working on that, and I can see Dumbledore when we can get to him.�

�� Get to
him.� Severus narrowed his eyes. It was not a question, in one of the most
threatening ways possible for something not to be a question.

�� They
implied that they could get into the Headmaster�s office, but I�d think that the
key to the office was locked in this hidden room along with everything else
they needed to run the school,� Potter said. �But his portrait is there.�

�� That does
not prevent me from traveling from frame to frame, my dear boy,� said a voice
that plucked Draco�s nerves like harpstrings from behind them.

*

�� Harry had
tried to brace himself ever since he realized that there would be a chance of
confronting Dumbledore soon, but he couldn�t have done enough work to prepare
himself for this.

�� That voice
had begged Harry to stop feeding him poison, and it had spoken an offer of
mercy to Malfoy on the Tower, and it had explained so many doubts and plans and
mysteries to Harry. During his life and after.

�� Hermione
had suggested that the vision of Dumbledore Harry had had when he �died� was
made-up, the product of his brain�s desperate search for understanding in the
tangle of events that was that year. Harry had rejected the suggestion with
only a little less violence than he�d brought to her explanation of his
sexuality. He chose to believe, and not to question.

�� But
questions sprang to mind now as he watched the man who stood in an empty frame
Harry hadn�t even noticed on the wall, so perfectly did it blend in with the
color of the stone. Dumbledore leaned forwards and looked at him with yearning
eyes.

�� Or maybe he
only imagined they were yearning. Maybe that was what Dumbledore wanted him to
see. Harry never had settled how he felt about the man.

�� Nor did he
intend to try now, not with an audience. He locked his eyes on Dumbledore and
said, �Good. Now that you�re here, you can explain the first riddle to us, and
we can start working on it.�

�� My dear
boy,� Dumbledore repeated. His eyes were softer,
now, but what did that mean? Harry thought. He had resolved to try and stop
asking so many questions after the war, to simply enjoy what life and peace had
been handed him, but he couldn�t, for so many reasons. The only thing he could
do was keep the questions to himself. �You will not allow us even a moment to
catch up?�

�� I don�t
think we two need it,� Harry said, and became aware that Malfoy was staring at
him, as if he sensed something wrong. Harry sent him a fierce glare until he
looked away�what did it matter if
something was wrong with Harry? That had never been Malfoy�s concern before�and
then focused back on the portrait. �If you and Malfoy need to say something to
each other, though, I�ll leave.�

�� Dumbledore
sighed and exchanged glances with Snape across both their heads. Harry bit his
tongue. He was used to that kind of glance now, the kind that said he was a
dumb kid and couldn�t control his own life. Ron and Hermione had been looking
at each other like that before the end.

�� And life would be considerably easier if you
stopped thinking about them so much.

�� Very
well,� Dumbledore said. �What you must do is find the place where both sun and
shadow end.�

�� Harry
waited for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at Snape. �And that�s it?�

�� That�s
it.� Snape looked for the first time like he was enjoying this. Well, he probably doesn�t care how much
someone else suffers, even someone he claims to �trust,� as long as he can make
me upset and impatient, Harry thought. Becoming a portrait didn�t seem to
have changed Snape�s personality at all.

�� Is the
place within the grounds of Hogwarts?� Malfoy asked. His voice was calm and
brisk, business-like. Harry found himself relaxing without thinking about it.
Malfoy was like that. He could make sense of stupid and barbarous situations
and find a way to land on his feet within them. It was just the first time that
quality had ever benefited Harry along with him.

�� We do not
know that,� said Snape. �Presumably our former selves did, but they did not
leave the knowledge with us.�

�� I would suggest,
at least,� said Dumbledore, and his eyes twinkled so much that Harry had to
look away, �that the place is unlikely to be far from the school. There would
be no point in storing the secrets within such a wide range that the person who
had to discover them�if such a person had to come along in the first
place�could not get back to the school rapidly to defend it from Voldemort.�

�� Malfoy
still flinched at the name, Harry noted. He didn�t bother to look and see if
Snape did, because Snape wasn�t the person he�d be working with. �And how will
we know if we find the right place?� he asked.

�� Ah, that
is simple,� Dumbledore said, looking pleased now. �You will find yourselves
involved in a fight to the death. Win the fight, and then you will be in
possession of the next clue.�

�� There was
little to be said after that, really, Harry thought. Malfoy asked a few more
questions, but they weren�t ones that Dumbledore and Snape knew the answers
to�though Dumbledore was considerably more polite about saying so than Snape was.
In the end, they agreed that Malfoy would be the one to meet the Ministry
representative sent in Wimpledink�s place, while Harry went and found rooms in
Hogsmeade.

�� Harry was
going out the door when someone touched his arm. He jerked away and whirled
around. He didn�t like people
touching him there, unless they were doing something to ease his stress.
Someone like Malfoy would only add to it.

�� Malfoy
stared at him, one eyebrow already raised. The other rose to join it as Harry
watched. �What�s the matter with your, Potter?� he murmured.

�� Tense,�
Harry said with a shrug, which was no more than the truth. �Jumpy.� He saw
Malfoy�s expression and hastily added, �I�ll be able to share the duties of
looking for the truth just fine, Malfoy, don�t worry. But this isn�t an easy
place for me to be.�

�� Malfoy
actually nodded as if he understood that, and then added, �I wanted to ask what
your conflict with Weasley and Granger is. Will they help us, do you think, if
approached the right way?�

�� You ought
to ask Snape that,� Harry said, controlling the first words that wanted to
emerge from his mouth. �He�s talked to them more recently than I have.� He
turned away again.

�� And they
told me of your row,� Snape murmured.

�� Harry
couldn�t help the way all the muscles in his back clenched, but he didn�t think
that Snape knew anything about the subject
of that row. Otherwise, he wouldn�t have hesitated to taunt Harry with it.
He kept walking.

�� They could
be powerful allies,� Malfoy said. �Besides which, I think I would be more easy
around them if I knew the source of your disagreement.�

�� I�d be
easier with you if you knew how to
keep your mouth shut,� Harry said, and slammed the door behind him for good
measure. Then he tilted his head back and leaned against the stone. His magic
churned against his veins; when he looked down, the backs of his hands were
glowing with rage, the magic literally heating his blood.

�� Here he
is, Hermione.�

�� Harry
turned around. He knew who he would see, because he knew whose voice that was.
But it somehow made him no calmer. Of course, he didn�t know if anything could make him calmer when his blood was
blazing.

�� Ron and
Hermione stood behind him, still wrapped in those plain brown robes. They were
even rougher and coarser than Harry had thought they looked at first glance.
They made quite a contrast with Malfoy�s prissily fine clothing, or even the
robes that Dumbledore and Snape were wearing.

�� Of course, actually caring about their
appearance might alienate the Ministry, Harry thought, and we can�t have that. He straightened his back. �Has Wimpledink�s
replacement come?� he asked in a flat voice.

�� That isn�t
what we came here to talk to you about,� Ron said, in a surprisingly mature and
dignified voice. �We don�t care about them. We care about you.�

�� Two years
ago, we made mistakes,� Hermione said earnestly. �We all made mistakes. We just want to discuss them with you and
reconcile, Harry. We missed you.� She gave him a yearning glance that was
probably meant to melt him and make him run into their arms. Harry wondered why
she thought it would work.

�� He
straightened and folded his arms. �The only mistake I made was in listening to
you for as long as I did.�

�� Hermione
shut her eyes. Ron leaned forwards and hissed, �How can you say that? We missed
you so much, and you�re acting as though you don�t care at all!�

�� I care,
but in a way that you don�t want me to,� Harry said. �With anger. You made it
very clear that I wasn�t welcome to express my anger in any way.� He looked at
Hermione. His blood still rammed against the sides of his veins, but he felt
calmer for all that. He had known this confrontation was inevitable from the
moment he received the Ministry�s invitation, and this was probably best, to
have it out of the way early. �Have you changed your mind about that?�

�� You have
too much anger,� Hermione said, wiping her tears away. �You agreed with me when we talked about
that, Harry, and that�s why you had to go get your�handlers in the first
place.�

�� Do you
still think it�s pathological?� Harry asked.

�� Hermione
sighed. �Harry.�

�� Answer the
question.� His voice soared on the last word, and a whip manifested in midair,
swinging towards Hermione. She leaped back. The whip cracked to the ground next
to her and then vanished at Harry�s gesture. He felt the magic heat his lungs
now, boiling and snapping and dancing.

�� Fuck. It had been a long time since it
was this bad. He should have made an appointment with Bradley before he left
town after all, or perhaps one of the Muggles who wouldn�t care about why he
needed what he needed and would just do what he asked, as long as he paid
enough.

�� Yes,�
Hermione said, her tears vanished now, her courage making her bristle like a
small dog facing a larger one. �Yes, I do. It wouldn�t be for someone else, but
with your history of authority figures telling you what to do? It is. You have
to stand on your own two feet and arrange your own life sometime, Harry.�

�� I can at
least respect you for admitting it,� Harry said, and turned away.

�� Where are
you going?� Ron called.

�� To find
lodgings in Hogsmeade. I did tell you that.� Harry was glad he could regulate
his voice to be no more than a simple, dull tone.

�� Ron�s hand
clasped his shoulder, and Ron said, �We�re trying to talk to you! You owe us
more than this. How many years were we friends? We��

�� He snatched
his hand back suddenly, howling. Harry had wondered how long it would take.
He�d felt the heat creeping up to his neck where Ron held him and made no
effort to stop it, because some people didn�t deserve warnings.

�� He turned
and showed his teeth. Ron and Hermione fully froze, staring with wide eyes. Ron
even stopped wringing his blistered hand. Harry smiled. He knew that flames
flickered between his teeth now and were creeping into his eyes, turning them
as red as Voldemort�s.

�� Let me
go,� he said softly, �if you don�t want me to destroy half the school worse
than the Battle of Hogwarts did.�

�� They stood
there, huddled together, looking terrified in the face of his power. Harry was
glad that his own yearning to embrace them was such a small part of him, much
smaller than the rage that flung itself through him and the thrumming howl of
his magic in the back of his skull. Yes, he would have liked to be reconciled
to them, in the same way that he would have liked to fly without a broom. It
wasn�t going to happen.

�� We�re
still trying to be there for you,� Hermione said. �I think you�re mentally ill,
Harry, and I want to help.�

�� My coping
methods aren�t good enough for you,� Harry said. He was amazed that he could
speak the words, but then decided that he might have spent enough of his magic
to lessen some of the rage for a bit. �To you, those are another sign that I�m mentally ill. Do you deny that?�

�� No,�
Hermione said. �There has to be a way, and you have to face the issues of your
personal history in order to get past them, not just bury them and pretend that
they didn�t exist.�

�� Harry
hissed at her. It came out like a flare of dragon�s breath. �And there you have
it.�

�� He walked
away down the corridor, fighting the urge to make his feet heavier than normal
and fill the cracks he would cause in the stone with fire. Yes, it would get
rid of some of his magic, but it would also damage Hogwarts, and he still cared
about that.

�� If barely.

�� He walked
out of the front doors, luckily without seeing anyone else, and then shut his
eyes and turned towards the Forbidden Forest. When he couldn�t get to someone
else for his stress relief, the next best thing was to run, as far and as hard
as he could. He could tried flying, but with his magic taking the form of fire,
he�d probably burn the broom to ashes.

�� Considering
where he was going, something might block his way. But Harry didn�t mind that,
at all. Let them try.

�� He hurtled
into the Forest, and the branches swished shut behind him.

*

�� It is a
little late in your life for you to be doing something so undignified.�

�� Draco
pulled his ear back from the door, where he had unabashedly listened to the
conversation between Potter and his friends, and smiled at Severus. �I wanted
to know what was going on. Now I do.�

�� And what
conclusions do you draw?� Severus leaned back in his chair and looked at Draco
curiously. They were alone in the room, with Dumbledore having departed his
frame when Potter exited.

�� That
Potter has unattractive anger and very attractive power,� Draco said.

�� Severus
snorted. Draco saw no reason to pay attention to him. He was a portrait, and
likely no longer understood the powers of attraction.

*

�� angelmuziq:
Thanks! And now you know the details of the argument, though you also know that
Harry will not be the Dom in this particular situation.

�� Paigeey07:
Thank you!

�� polka dot: Not
over Hogwarts. They were in agreement there, though probably no longer.

�� Black
Padfoot: Thank you!

�� EarlyDawn:
Thank you!

�� amilie:
Thank you!

�� SP777: Hee.
Well, remember, this is the Ministry.
Simplistic solutions to complex problems are what they live for.

�� purple-er:
Thank you!
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Chosen Chains