Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 104307 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter; all rights go to J. K. Rowling. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Last Time
He had to get away from this castle, he needed to get away from the children and he needed to be on his own, by himself, developing potions in his own lab. This endless, mindless teaching was going to drive him slowly into madness and he could no longer put up with it. He would wait one more year, until Potter had graduated and he would no longer have to look out for him for Lucius or the Dark Lord. He would be free then to stop teaching, he would be free to leave this castle and he would be free to pursue a life of brewing and developing potions, as he had always wanted. Just one more year, then he could be free of teaching, free of this castle and free of all the filthy children inhabiting it.
Chapter Twenty – Bargaining

Harry tugged uncomfortably at the stunningly green dress robes that he was wearing. They had arrived that morning as a gift from ‘Aceline’, who’d urged him to wear them for his Ministry party as he’d look so beautiful in them. Of course Rabastan would have bought him robes as close to the same colour as his eyes as he could find. His Fiancé had asked for pictures to be sent to him, wearing his gifts, all dressed up and ready for a night of being harshly scrutinised by people he didn’t give two fucks about.
Draco, with Astoria of course, had both become as annoying as mosquitoes as they buzzed and fluttered around him and made sure that he was perfectly dressed, groomed and presentable. He had his hair messed with, his nails filed and buffed by a disapproving Astoria, his eyebrows had been groomed and he was actually starting to get pissed off with all the fussing as Draco straightened his collar once again…for the seventh or eighth time in the last hour.

“I’m going to be more than fashionably late if you carry on.” He snapped as Draco moved from his collar back up to his hair.

“Let me just sort this stubborn patch of hair.” Draco replied distractedly.

“It’s all stubborn!” Harry said, flailing his arms about in agitation. “You’ll be here all night trying to tame it.”

“I’m not trying to tame it, I’m just trying to get it into some semblance of neatness.” Draco told him.

Harry sighed impatiently and tried not to give into the urges to childishly throw himself to the floor and roll about to ruin all their hard work of the last two hours. He really wanted to do it, though, but knowing his luck, they’d just start again and he’d be stuck here for another two hours until they’d finished once more.

“Just a little longer, Harry. This isn’t going to be like the house parties that you’ve been to in the past year.” Astoria told him gently, sensing his mounting frustration…or maybe it was the furrowed brow, scrunched nose and scowled lips that had clued her into his increasingly darkening mood. “This is a Ministry party, reporters for the newspapers and magazines will be there, your picture will appear in all the glossy rags and papers. You need to look good, Harry, or they’ll tear you apart and you’ll embarrass your family…both of them.”

Well…when it was put like that it seemed like a good idea that he had other people to help him dress and groom himself. He sighed heavily and he silently endured the torture of being poked and prodded about.
Another twenty minutes and he was just about ready to tear his hair out when Draco stood back and declared him done. Astoria looked him over in a way that made him feel more like a mannequin than a living person, before she nodded her head too and Harry almost breathed a sigh of utter relief. Finally!

“I do adore these cufflinks that Rabastan gave you with the robes.” She said, looking at the cuffs of the black shirt underneath, the robes over the top being cut in such a way as to cover his thumbs and most of his fingers, but expose the little finger and the side of his hands, and the underside of his wrist too, thus showing off the silver cufflinks with the oval howlite stones. Or at least that was what Astoria had told him they were, he wouldn’t have known otherwise what the black veined, smooth white stones were. He’d have probably said marble if he’d been pressed. Astoria had given him a withering look when he’d admitted to that.

Rabastan had chosen these robes with very careful forethought and consideration to the cut and colour, as to how best to show him off fully. He looked good all groomed and dressed to perfection with subtle hints of accessories, but not too overdone, as Draco had explained as he had made sure that all three of his rings were perfectly placed on his fingers. It might have taken two hours to get him to actually look good, but it would be worth it to send those photos to Rabastan…and of course so that he didn’t embarrass his family in front of the media by looking like some scruffy waif who’d just walked in off the streets.
The cufflinks were his favourite accessories though, after his beloved engagement ring, of course, as they were ‘Aceline’s’ favourite cufflinks, which meant that they’d come from Rabastan’s own, incredibly extensive, collection of cufflinks and they were his personal favourites. It made him feel so proud to wear them, a little piece of Rabastan with him to keep him company this night. Though he would be seeing his Fiancé later anyway, because very thankfully he had permission to stay at home overnight, because the party would not end until gone midnight. Because of that, it made more sense for him to go back home for the night than to trudge back to his rooms at Hogwarts, though it was doubtful that he would be staying quite that long at the party anyway. They’d be lucky if he stayed for an hour with the prospect of spending more time with Rabastan on the other hand.

“Am I presentable enough?” He asked impatiently, as the two studied him from either side.

“As presentable as we’re ever going to get you.” Draco quipped. Astoria gave him a small shove.

“Don’t be mean to your brother, he looks stunning. We’d best not let Blaise see you like this.” She teased. “Pose for a photo first, for Aceline.” She winked at him.

Harry laughed, but he smiled and did as Astoria had instructed, feeling a little stupid with an audience, but it was for Rabastan, so he didn’t mind.

“I will have these developed for you and send them right over to Rabastan.” Astoria promised. “He will see you first, when you arrive there after the party, but you won’t look this good and neat by then. You’ll be a little more rumpled and your hair would have undone all of Draco’s hard work of the last two and a half hours.”

Harry snorted. “I best go then. Fifteen minutes late as I already am.”

“Do try not to ruin anything before you get there. Your photo will be taken as soon as you arrive.” Draco told him. Harry nodded.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow for our study session. Astoria, I will tutor you and Luna tomorrow afternoon too, in preparation for your Defence exam.”

“Thank you very much.” Astoria gave him a beaming smile.

“Don’t stay here without a chaperone.” He lectured, then he winked. “Don’t go getting too risqué on my settees. I was told that I’m not allowed to replace them.”

He touched the rings on his finger and he activated the portkey before he could hear a reply from Draco or Astoria and he landed in the Atrium of the Ministry for Magic. It was swarming with people and as Draco and Astoria had warned him, the reporters immediately swung to look at him, their photographers following and his photo was taken several times in just a few seconds, being heralded by a halo of flashing, blinding lights. It was lucky that he had landed with a smile on his face from his parting shot at Draco and Astoria and it was lucky that he had been taught not to squint like an owl with all the lights around him.

“Good evening.” He greeted politely, ignoring all the quick-fire questions being directed at him as he lightly elbowed his way through the wall of people, keeping his bright smile in place and his eyes slightly wider than usual, to counter any narrowing or blinking of his eyes due to the lights and flashes.

“Mister Potter! Will you tell us about your bride-to-be?” One witch called out, notebook and quill at the ready. “Do you have a picture of the ring that you gave her? Or a picture of her for us?”

Harry acted like he hadn’t heard her, but he looked down to his own gleaming ring. No doubt that would be splashed around the magazines too as they theorised if his and ‘Aceline’s’ rings matched perfectly or if they had each bought a different ring to present to the other.
He milled around for a bit, avoiding reporters asking invasive questions, he declined a glass of champagne from a serving house elf, making sure to do so politely and hunched down, so he could get eye contact under the tray, which was being held aloft, over the house elf’s head. His photo was snapped doing that too and it would appear in at least one magazine by tomorrow. He would have to stop this appalling practice too. There was no reason why people couldn’t walk to a table and pick up their own drink or hors d’oeuvres, as they had done during the two parties over the Christmas season. Abusing house elves in this way was unneeded and he wouldn’t stand for it. He found it entirely repulsive and he would stamp it out within his proposed, re-written, creature laws. Which reminded him that he’d wanted to have Rabastan look over the newly reformed section that he’d been working on. He touched his inside robe pocket, and heard the scrunch of parchment. He had, thankfully, remembered to put it in his pocket for later. He couldn’t wait to present it to Rabastan when he saw him later.
He found Lucius in the throng of people, though truthfully he’d seen a flash of platinum blond from all that silky, baby fine hair that was loose and free flowing tonight, and he immediately made his way over to him.

“There you are, are you well?” Lucius asked him, giving his shoulder a small, possessive touch, as if to tell those present that Harry was his son and no one would be getting to him unless they went through Lucius first.

“I am. I had a bit of trouble getting away from Draco and Astoria, but I managed to escape once both of their backs were turned.” He joked.

“I thought you looked better than usual.” Xerxes told him with a sly smile.

“Did you get my letter? I’m sorry if it was upsetting, but I need to be sure.” Harry said seriously.

“What are you talking about now?” Lucius asked quietly.

Harry looked from Lucius to Xerxes, the both of them looking confused. Hedwig hadn’t arrived, Xerxes had not received his letter yet.

“Ah.” He said. “In that case I will explain later tonight. I had hoped Hedwig would have arrived by now, so that we could go right into the explanation without the build-up.”

“And what, may I ask, does it pertain to?” Xerxes questioned.

“Something Dumbledore showed me, that’s all.” Harry said, then danced his gaze past Xerxes’ shoulder and he smiled, letting the other two men know that they were no longer alone. This really wasn’t the place for personal conversations anyway, you never knew who was within earshot.

“Lord Potter-Black, it is nice to see you.” The Minister for Magic himself approached and they shook hands, more flashes going off in his peripheral vision. It felt like the photographers were actually following him or something.

“Likewise, Minister.” He said, trying to make his statement sound sincere.

“Your exams are coming up, are they not? NEWTs, very exhausting indeed, I do hope that you are prepared.” The man gave a false, oily sounding laugh and Harry got the feeling that he was being patronised, he didn’t like it, he didn’t laugh or smile in return.

Some reporters tittered at the Minister’s comments and he saw more than one writing things down in their ever present notebooks. Truly he felt like he was a new species being studied and documented by scientists for unusual habits or behaviours. The reporters standing close enough could hear them, though, so it was time to show them all why the Wizengamot meetings were all going his way, of which they would know of from the heavily edited reports that they received when it was deemed necessary.

“I am currently revising for my exams, yes. I still find the time to read up on law and legislation in my free moments, however.” He lied smoothly, implying that he actually had any spare time to do any recreational reading at all. “I believe that you receive a copy of all manuscripts from the Wizengamot, Minister? After the little, hiccup, during the last meeting, I am actually concerned that past cases have been mishandled. I have been looking into such, as it is deeply troubling, as I’m sure that you’ll agree.” He replied in such a condescending tone that he saw the Minister’s aide, stood beside him as if they were still at work, actually flush in sympathetic embarrassment.

“I…yes, of course.” Fudge blustered, as Harry had known that he would, being led by the hand as he’d been, he could hardly say anything else, not with the reporters so close to them, listening hard, writing down every word spoken. “Terrible business, this abuse of the laws. Terrible.”

Harry inclined his head. “I am sure that is why you are going to conduct a full investigation on the matter, Minister, am I right?”

“Yes, absolutely.” The Minister said rather angrily.

Harry inclined his head again and tried not to show any smug satisfaction on his face. He was getting much, much better at leading others into doing as he wanted them to do. Lucius had been right, once you knew how to do it, it was rather easy.

“I am very glad that this matter is being taken seriously, and that an investigation is going to be conducted. What use are our laws if they aren’t even being upheld?”

The Minister was saved from any more of Harry’s embarrassing manipulations by the arrival of Dawson Shacklebolt, Harry turned to him happily and engaged him in conversation, snubbing the Minister completely. Fudge hurried off rather quickly, his young aide dogging his footsteps.

“You are looking much better today, if I may say so.” Lord Shacklebolt said with a smile.

“I am feeling much better, thank you.” He said with a genuine smile of pleasure. “Are you well? How is your son, I had heard he’d been in an accident.”

“The fool.” Dawson sighed with a shake of his head. “He was messing around with dangerous Runes and he put them in the wrong order. Then, saying that, my grandson, Leander, took all the sense. His Father never had much. I am handing Leander the Shacklebolt Lordship once I pass. Eben would embarrass the family to the point where we would never recover.”

“Marcus Flint is tutoring me in Runes, he has instructed me on how very dangerous they are and to never play around with them.” He said. “I take that warning very seriously.”

“As you should.” Dawson said sternly. “Runes are not to be messed with, as my fool of a son has found out, at the expense of his fingers.”

“Will he get them back?” Harry asked concernedly.

Dawson shook his head. “As far as the Healers can tell, it is a permanent injury. More fool him for messing with things that he did not understand. He is mediocre with Runes at very best.”

“I am sorry to hear that the injury is permanent.” Harry said softly.

“I wouldn’t fret over such things. Eben is always messing with things that he shouldn’t be. I’m surprised that he’s reached forty to be completely honest with you. My nephew, Kingsley, always had more sense. It seems that my brother, Paxton, had the son that I should have had and I had the one meant for him. Paxton never had much sense either.”

“How about your younger grandson, Deacon?” Harry asked, marvelling at the rather sensitive information he was being told about another Lord’s family. Usually they kept their problems to themselves and within their family, so that no one ever found out, though the Daily Prophet had reported about Eben Shacklebolt being involved in an accident, which was why Harry had asked.

“He and his Wife are expecting any day now.” Dawson said happily.

Harry remembered being taught, back last year in the summer, about all of the Pureblood houses and their relations. Deacon Shacklebolt was married to Isobel MacDougal, her younger sister, Morag, was in his year at Hogwarts, she was a Ravenclaw and was betrothed to Syed Shafiq, another family of the sacred twenty-eight. His older brother, Asad, was betrothed to Hallie Grigoryan, one of the foreign Pureblood families. It was easy to see how all of the families were interrelated multiple times over.
Leander Shacklebolt, Dawson’s oldest grandson, was married to Olivia Yaxley, they were not expecting a child yet, though not from lack of trying, it seemed. The Yaxley family was related both to the Black family, thus his own, and to the Lestrange family too. Lyvia Yaxley, Olivia’s great-aunt, had been Xerxes’ wife, and the poisonous Mother of Rhadamanthus.

“Congratulations.” Harry said with a smile.

“Thank you, Harry. It is an exciting time, to be expecting the arrival of a new generation.”

“Oh, of course, this will be the first of the next generation of the Shacklebolt family.” Harry said. “Kingsley isn’t married and Leander and his wife are not expecting, are they?”

“That is true enough, but Leander is taking Olivia to Spain in two months, a bit of space and privacy might be just what they need.”

Harry chuckled lightly, but their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the Chief Warlock, Albert Runcorn.

“Greetings, Lord Shacklebolt. Lord Potter-Black. I hope that you are well.”

Harry smiled, looking to Runcorn. “I am, Chief Warlock. Please call me Harry outside of meetings.”

“As you wish, Harry. Your Father has informed me that you are working on your own law reforms. I cannot wait to see what you wish to implement, you are an exceedingly bright young man.”

“Thank you.” Harry said, a little smug at having his ego stroked, but he reigned himself back in and he refused to allow it to affect him overly much. “I am looking to make some changes and additional reforms that I hope will improve the community overall. Some of the archaic laws and the disgusting inequalities need to be changed as soon as possible.”

“I agree.” Albert Runcorn told him. “If you get those reforms to me as soon as you can, I will see to their suitability and then it will be discussed in the Wizengamot at the earliest convenience.”

Harry stood straighter as someone hailed away Runcorn, who made his excuses and left as quickly as he had come, doing the rounds he needed to as Chief Warlock.

“Well, you are one of his favourites.” Dawson teased. “He held that creature bill back for four and a half months before bringing it onto the agenda to be discussed.”

“He can do that?” Harry queried, looking to Lucius and Xerxes, who had turned back around once Runcorn had gone.

“Absolutely.” Xerxes told him. “As the Chief Warlock, he can hold back any proposal he wishes, though for no longer than a full year after it was first submitted. He must truly enjoy your debating sessions if he is willing to push forward your proposals immediately, instead of holding them back for several months.”

Harry preened and the three men around him chuckled and snorted in amusement. Harry just smiled happily.

“Am I right in guessing that one of your new proposals is to do with the current creature laws?” Dawson asked him curiously. “You were furious with the last proposal debated.”

Harry controlled the anger he felt at being reminded of that proposal in law change, if he ever found out who that had been…he breathed in deeply. “Yes.” He said calmly. “I will be ripping up the current laws and working towards equality for everyone, creatures and humans alike.”

“We are very proud of your dedication too.” Lucius insisted.

“How much more have you gotten done while at school?” Xerxes asked him.

“A little more.” Harry insisted, touching the pocket that contained the very proposal they were discussing.

“You’ve brought it with you?” Dawson laughed, looking to him indulgently.

Harry nodded. “I am staying at home overnight, I wished for my Father to look it over, just in case I have missed anything. Several eyes are better than just my own, after all and I am still young. I’m not arrogant enough to believe that I can write proposals and change any laws all by myself. I’m willing to ask for help where I know I need it and I don’t think that there is anything wrong with that.”

They were interrupted again, this time by Lord Sarpedon Carrow. He had taken in his twin great-nieces, Flora and Hestia, and his infant great-nephew, Adrastos, after the death of his older brother’s only son, his nephew, Zephyrus, the previous Lord Carrow.
The deranged and apparently rumoured incestuous brother and sister, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, were his third cousins on his Father’s side. Lucius had told him that Lord Sarpedon mostly pretended that Amycus and Alecto didn’t exist, even when standing beside them. His sister, Ilaria Carrow, was Marcus Flint’s grandmother.

“Lucius, Xerxes. A word.” He said crisply.

“Excuse us a moment, Harry.” Lucius said, patting his shoulder.

Harry nodded and he ignored that it was likely Death Eater issues. He went looking for a drink, but all he could find were trays of food and drink being held aloft by house elves, and he refused to take a drink from a tray that was resting on another creature’s head. The very thought of it brought a sneer to his face, but aware of the photographers milling around, he quickly controlled himself and his facial expressions to something more pleasingly neutral.
He mingled instead, speaking to several Lords of Noble houses, known politically in the Wizengamot as Ancients. Only the Lords of the families that were classed as one of the sacred twenty-eight families could be classed as an Ancient within the Wizengamot, so Harry was an Ancient through his Black seat. He would have been a New Man, a Pureblood but not a member of one of the sacred twenty-eight families, with just the Potter seat, but as the political factions took the highest seat one held, Harry was politically classed as an Ancient.
He wandered a little more, speaking to those he met, so as not to look like a loner, or like he was being snubbed or excluded, as such a thing could be disastrous for his reputation. Something he really didn’t need right at this moment, while he was blazing a line of fire through the Wizengamot.
He tried to avoid Lord Corban Yaxley, whose older sister had been Xerxes wife and the Mother of Rhadamanthus, but the man made a very big social faux pas and grabbed his hand as he slipped past him. Harry shook him off very quickly, aware that such things could be taken as favourable attention in a picture.

“Good evening, Lord Yaxley.” Harry said rather stiffly, not willing to play nice with a man who had just grabbed at him.

“Lord Potter.” Yaxley said back, offering him a rather big insult by refusing to acknowledge that Harry was also the Lord of house Black.

“It is pronounced Lord Potter-Black, actually.” He said with a forced, sweet smile, his eyes glittering.

“If you were not labelled as a non-target…”

“But I am.” Harry cut in smoothly, a hard edge to his voice. “You can’t touch me without incurring the wrath of a certain someone.” He hissed, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “I am in direct correspondence with him you know.” He lied easily, watching the other man opposite him. Lord Yaxley was very good at hiding his reaction, but Harry still detected a slight flinching around his eyes. “So if I were you, I would be a little nicer towards me.”

“You are not as untouchable as you think you are, Potter.” Corban spat, all the muscles in his face clenched to keep his neutral mask in place so that he didn’t sneer or grimace. “You’ll come to a sticky end one of these days, very soon.”

“So you are threatening me.” Harry said mildly. “That is good to know, so that I can now watch you more closely. You and that vile nephew of yours.” He said, alluding to Rhadamanthus, as he was clearly the centre of this little talk. Rhadamanthus had always insisted that he had friends and associates. It seemed that his Mother’s brother, his Uncle, was one of them. “You seem to forget that I have friends in even higher places than you do. Isn’t that just galling?” He baited with a smirk. “I would watch yourself, Yaxley, or it won’t be me meeting a sticky end.”

Harry gave a hard stare for a moment more, then he turned, confidently displaying his back to Corban Yaxley, and he walked off, going back to mingling with meaningless small talk and platitudes about everyone’s family members, while insisting that his own were all very well, thank you so very much for asking.
He was finding out that these parties were all very false and were mostly a show of solidarity, of hereditary superiority, for the reporters, photographers, and then once published, the rest of the wizarding world. It was all very dry and boring, he couldn’t even eat or drink anything because of the house elf servers. He had never wanted to check his silver pocket watch so much in his life, but if he did and he was caught in a photo, it could cause a scandal. He didn’t want that either, so he’d have to suffer, as he didn’t think he’d been here for more than an hour yet, even though it felt more like three. It was going to be a very long, tedious night.

“Not mingling with the Disdains, are you?” Lord Philip Nott sneered at him.

Of course it would be too much to ask that he was left alone. No, it seemed that he was being set upon on all sides tonight and if it was one person he truly did not want to speak with tonight, it was Theo’s greedy, uncaring Father who did not deserve to have such a wonderful, strong, intelligent son as Theo.

“Such a word in these halls, in public, is a disgrace.” Harry told him as mildly as he could manage. He hated that all Muggleborn members of the Wizengamot, something that wouldn’t even have been allowed a few generations ago, were labelled as Disdains by the Purebloods when truly they should have all been called Neutrals, along with the other Heads of Department members, which sometimes included Purebloods, though only those who were not Lords of their own houses and thus could not be classed as New Men or Ancients via a loophole. The Purebloods hated being classed as an equal to Halfbloods and Muggleborns, hence their derogatory title of ‘Disdains’ for the Muggleborn members of the Wizengamot who were officially titled as Neutrals.

“You should be one of them.” Philip spat at him.

“The only disdainful person here is you.” Harry quipped back.

“I would hope that you are not harassing him.” Xerxes snapped, having obviously spotted the altercation and had come quickly to lay a comforting, protective hand over Harry’s narrow shoulder. “You know what I’ll do to you if you are.”

The elderly Lord Nott went rather pale. Harry would have too if he’d been threatened with the Lestrange family. Lord Philip Nott controlled the sneer that wanted to form on his face with an iron will and then he skulked off with his tail between his legs, leaving Harry with Xerxes, much more pleasing company in Harry’s opinion. Though, of course, he was thankfully going to become a member of the Lestrange family, so he had no need to be afraid of them like Nott, as he wasn’t one of their enemies…unless Rhadamanthus counted, but then Rhadamanthus hated all of them, including his own Father and sons. He was actively trying to ruin his youngest son in every way possible even, so Harry didn’t count him as a member of the family.
He spent some time talking more animatedly with Xerxes, then they were both separated by others coming and getting involved, drawing them each into separate conversations, and then, when he next looked around, Xerxes was halfway across the room once more and he was back to mingling and making small talk, trying to include as many of the people here as he could, focusing on those he hadn’t yet spoken to and those he didn’t normally speak to while at actual Wizengamot meetings. Though he avoided a rather awkward looking Bill Weasley like he had bubonic plague.
A flash beside him and Harry sucked in a deep breath and he actively had to stop himself from bearing his teeth like a feral dog. He was going to come to hate these Ministry parties, with all the reporters and photographers floating around along with the Lords of Pureblood families, the Heads of all reputable Departments and the Minister for Magic along with his aide. It all just seemed to be an ego fest to him, a night of putting up with other people boasting, preening and showing off, and of childish cliques of who knew what Lord or politician and their little groupies who were all doing their best to have their photo taken with those higher than themselves. It was just ridiculous to him.
Lucius had, of course, taken the time to teach him the power and importance of a handshake, and of rejecting one, early on in his education last summer. He knew how to politely avoid a handshake, and how to outright ignore one if anyone was rude enough to insist upon it. A photo could boost dignity and prestige, but the wrong photo could destroy a reputation just as easily, if not easier. Which was why when Madam Wilkes, the frizzy haired cow who had voted against him in his trial in the summer between his fourth and fifth years, and had then tried to exclude him from a meeting because he had been sixteen and out of bed on a school night, came up to him and tried to strong arm him into a handshake for a photo, he quickly and effectively shut her down by twisting his hand and slipping it from her own.

“I will ask you not to grab and pull at me, thank you.” He said sternly, as if chastising a naughty child.

“That was terribly rude of you, not that people like you can help it.” Lord Mark Flint, whom he’d been speaking to, sneered.

Harry had finally found some time to approach and speak to Marcus’ Father, and he had praised his son heavily, naturally, which had forged an immediate bond between them both, as Mark Flint was very proud of his only child’s illustrious runic career.

“Imagine grabbing and groping for the arm of an underaged Lord, what is wrong with you?” Lord Flint asked softly, almost hissing under his breath. “Except for being a disgusting little Mudblood, of course.”

Harry stiffened, but he felt caught between a rock and a hard place. He had been told to make nice with the other Lords, Lucius had specifically told him to be on his best behaviour. He was not to upset any other Lord during this party, while the reporters and photographers were watching and waiting for any sort of slip up or hint of a scandal. He certainly had no love for Madam Wilkes, but that word. THAT WORD. He breathed deeply and evenly, as the silence between the three of them stretched on. He needed to do something, he turned himself slightly, dismissing the witch.

“You never said how your wife was doing.” He said politely, trying to behave himself, trying to get back onto more neutral ground so he didn’t kick off, but his temper had already been stoked by Madam Wilkes, of all people, trying to curry favourable press by grabbing at him for a photo. It had only risen when he’d heard that word.

“Dosie? She’s fine.” Mark waved away uncaringly. He obviously cared for his wife very little, going so far as to give her the nickname dozy, as she had the unfortunate name of Theodosia. She was the younger sister of Philip Nott, the aunt of Theo, for whom he had been named. “How is your Fiancée?”

“Aceline?” Harry said. “She’s fine too. She’s getting much better in recent months and I’m very proud of her achievements.”

Mark gave him a knowing look. Of course he knew that he was actually engaged to Rabastan Lestrange, if not from his son, Marcus’, own mouth then from the Death Eater meetings of which he most certainly attended. There was absolutely no doubt in Harry’s mind that the man he spoke to was also a Death Eater and he was good friends with Lucius and Xerxes to boot, so he knew exactly what he meant. That Rabastan was getting much better, and fitter, and would soon be back to fighting fit.

“I am glad to hear of such things. I hope that you both have a happy, fortuitous marriage.”

“Oh, I am sure that we will. We do get on very well, after all. It helps that we know what we each want from our marriage too.”

“Oh?” Lord Mark queried in a lilted question.

Harry gave a genuine grin then. “Lots and lots of children.” Harry laughed.

Lord Mark chuckled too and shook his head ruefully. “I believe that being as young as you are will count for you too, you have the time and the energy to run around after lots of children. I do wish that Marcus would hurry up and get married already, but finding that bitch of his in bed with one of his work colleagues, well, it has damaged his pride and he is a very prideful man. You should have heard the rants when he was still in school and you and your merry band of Gryffindors kept besting him at Quidditch. In the end I was glad that he finally graduated so that I wouldn’t have to hear his howling about losing the Quidditch cup for yet another year.”

Harry gave a genuine laugh then, he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, you may well laugh, you never had to listen to him go on about it for weeks afterwards. With every subsequent defeat, he would whine for longer than the previous year.”

“I can’t imagine him whining.” Harry said, thinking of Marcus. “He must let all his defences down at home, as I suppose we all do. Some of the things I do and say at home I wouldn’t even dream of doing if others were present. But Marcus, whining? It is not something I can picture, not when he calls me every name under the sun and then threatens me with bodily harm if I don’t get the work he gives me perfect.”

Lord Mark gave a laugh. “Yes, that sounds like my Marcus.” He said in obvious pride. “He has half the community terrified of him, especially after the natural repercussions he gave to the bitch who hurt his pride, and the sleazebag who slept with her in his bed, in his home. I always warned him that she had the look of a whore about her, but he never listened.”

“A fault I believe my own Father would complain about regarding me.” Harry joked.

Lord Mark looked a little pensive, then he laughed. “Indeed. Perhaps it is the nature of sons to question the wisdom and advice of their Fathers, to push the boundaries that are given to them. Mostly to their own detriment.” Here Harry was given a warning look, but he just grinned sweetly. Lord Mark snorted in amusement. “Perhaps such lessons do have to be learnt by one’s self and cannot be taught. Marcus has learnt his own lesson. I believe he is now chasing after another potential wife, though he refuses to tell me who it is so that I, and I quote his very words, ‘I do not interfere and fuck things up’. Marcus has such a delicate way with words.”

Harry snorted. Absolutely nothing about Marcus Flint could ever be described as delicate. Lord Mark gave him a smile.

“I helped him to start the process to his new chosen wife.” Harry admitted. “He was unsure of her, but if this next engagement goes awry, I do believe the fault will lie with me this time.”

Lord Mark looked rather shocked for a fraction of a second, but he quickly pulled his face back to neutral. “So you know who she is? You helped him to set up an engagement?”

Harry nodded. “He already knew who he liked.” Harry insisted. “I just gave him a little push to encourage him to go after her. After all, if one falls from a horse, there is always a better, more stable horse in a different paddock. You just have to try them all until you find the right one, not give up after the first attempt.”

Lord Mark laughed then, a genuine laugh. “I don’t believe that that is how the adage goes.”

“It’s better.” Harry grinned.

“I can see now, after speaking to you at length, exactly why Marcus likes you so much.” Lord Mark told him consideringly. “I did not understand why he found you so agreeable, especially after all his childhood complaints of you, but now I understand. You are a very special young man.”

“Thank you.” Harry said, only able to speak because of Narcissa’s extensive lessons that had taught him to automatically respond to a compliment with gracious thanks.

“I cannot wait to see what you’ll do next.” Lord Mark carried on, scrutinising him. “You are tearing up everything in your wake, and only doing good things that will help everyone immensely.”

Harry took that to mean that Lord Flint was involved with finding ways to make it easier for Greyback to move and conduct his vile business without obstruction. He could count on this man to vote for his proposed law change, when he eventually got around to submitting it.

“I am trying. I’m currently writing my own proposals for law changes. I’ve been testing the waters a little here tonight, taking the opportunity conveniently presented to me.” He said happily. That was truly the only good thing to come from tonight, that he could spread his ideals and hint at his proposals to come to gauge reaction.

“I will be listening and waiting patiently for your coming proposals then.”

Shortly after that, Lord Mark was pulled into a different conversation with several other men and Harry went to find Lucius. He wanted to leave now. He’d had more than enough.
He finally found Lucius, of course he would have been over the other side of the room, so it took him a good twenty minutes to mingle and small talk his way across the room, and then he sidled under his Father’s arm and looked up at him pleadingly.

“Are you quite well?” Lucius asked him, for the sake of those he was stood with.

“I’m feeling a little off.” Harry said, playing his part well.

“You are not ill I hope, Lord Potter-Black.” Lord Harvey Greengrass said. Harry couldn’t work out if he was sincere or not.

“I do hope not.” Harry said plainly. “An illness on top of the advancing exams would be disastrous. I believe that I am just a little tired and in need of some quiet rest.”

“Then let me see you home.” Lucius said, touching his elbow and leading him away.

Harry had his photo taken several times on the way, so he made sure to keep his smile firmly fixed in place.

“I had believed that you’d come much sooner than you did.” Lucius told him. “I am proud of you for lasting as long as you did.”

Harry smiled at the praise. “I’m just a little tired now. Keeping a mask on and making small talk all night is very exhausting. There’s only so many times I can insist that I and my family are fine before I want to start inventing illnesses and injuries just to watch their faces drop.”

“Indeed. Come, let us see you safely to the manor.”

Harry was led over to the side of the atrium, where the banks of fireplaces were located, and Harry took a handful of floo powder.

“I will see you later.” Lucius told him, touching his shoulder and then covering him as Harry threw the powder into the fireplace and called out for Malfoy manor.

He landed rather heavily, and he struggled to keep his feet. He had to take several large steps in order to keep himself upright.
He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. He shook his head and then he perked up. He was home. He went straight to the drawing room and three faces looked up at him as he opened the door.

“You’re home early, are you alright, darling?” Narcissa asked him.

Harry forced himself to greet his mother, going to give her a hug and a kiss to the cheek.

“I’m fine, I just wanted to come home. As if I was going to stay all night when I could be here.” He said as he went straight to Rabastan and kissed him hard.

His Fiancé laughed happily and pulled Harry down onto his lap. Harry arranged his legs so that he wasn’t sitting obscenely, he was more likely to be allowed to remain where he was if he at least made a show of being chaste.
He threw his arms around Rabastan’s thick neck and nuzzled into his skin.

“I missed you. That stupid party was such a drag, but at least it gives me an excuse to stay with you, if only for one night.” He said, before laying a kiss on a vein that was standing out on Rabastan’s throat.

“Did you at least plant the seeds for your proposal?” Rabastan asked him.

“Of course. It was the entire reason I even went and stayed for longer than five minutes.” He grinned.

The topic did remind him to take out his proposal and hand it over to Rabastan, but Rodolphus took it instead, smoothening it out on his knee and reading. Harry huffed, but he went back to nuzzling with Rabastan.

“Is your Father alright?” Narcissa asked.

“He’s fine. He wanted to stay a little longer, but he saw me through the floo.”

“Good.” Narcissa insisted, settling her skirt about her knees and leaning back, picking up her book once more.

“Did you suffer any altercations?”

“Two. Your wonderful grandfather saved me from knocking out Lord Nott’s teeth and that lovely Muggleborn, Madam Wilkes, tried to grope for my hand to force a photo of us being agreeable. I was not willing to accept as such.”

“Uncouth mudbloods.” Rodolphus growled under his breath, not even looking up from the papers on his knee.

“Oh, I was not so subtly threatened too.” He added, trying to move the conversation away from that word. It worked only too well.

“By who?” Rabastan demanded furiously, and this topic got Rodolphus’ attention and that dark brown gaze that promised pain and death was almost piercing as he looked at him, waiting for his answer.

“Your rather vile great Uncle, Corban Yaxley. He believes that I will meet my death very soon.”

“Did you tell your Father?” Narcissa asked dangerously, her own blue eyes glinting furiously.

“No, I didn’t want to do so at the party, just in case, but I will tell him tonight.” Harry insisted.

“I think I’ll pay him a visit.” Rodolphus said darkly. “I think he needs reminding that he has no son and no brothers. If he dies, his name dies with him.”

“Won’t it pass to his daughter’s son, if she has one?”

“No, don’t let Dawson Shacklebolt’s genial nature fool you. It is his older grandson who is married to Yaxley’s daughter, he will not allow the direct successor of his line to claim another Lordship, regardless that he has another grandson as a reserve.”

“Then it will pass to Rhadamanthus, as his nephew?” Harry questioned.

“Not if grandfather disallows it. He is the head of our house, if he does not disown Rhadamanthus, he cannot take anyone else’s name.”

Harry clocked the use of Rhadamanthus’ name, not the title of Father, and he made a mental note to ask Rabastan at a later time.

“So, between Xerxes and Dawson, they could make the Yaxley family extinct? Or at least only extant through the women born into the family, but married off?”

“Yes.” Rabastan said, looking at him proudly. “After he has threatened you too, well, I would say that grandfather would most definitely deny Rhadamanthus the Yaxley Lordship and Dawson Shacklebolt is very fond of you. Olivia is young too, and rather neglected by her Father, so she shines like the sun towards the kindness of her husband and grandfather-in-law. She was very happy to be matched to such a kind husband and family.”

“It wouldn’t be her decision anyway, but Dawson’s, as her child is in direct succession to his line.” Rodolphus added.

“Wouldn’t he do so just to control two Lordships?” Harry asked curiously.

“Not a lot of people want or need the pressures of two seats. It is why you are so extraordinary.” Narcissa told him primly, before crisply turning a page in her book.

“How are your family portfolios coming along?” Rabastan teased. Harry complained about the state of the Black and Potter portfolios in every single letter he sent to his Fiancé.

Harry groaned. “Do not get me started on those things. Every time I open the blasted folders something else requires fixing, or one of the investments needs handling, or I’m being asked to buy more shares or something else needs my approval. I swear I’m going to pick them all up and take huge pleasure in throwing them all into the fire and just watching them curl and burn.”

Rabastan chuckled and gave his cheek a kiss.

“With two seats, and two Lordships, comes a lot of hard work and expectations.” Rabastan told him. “It is a lot of work for anyone to handle, so to some, it is not worth taking on another’s responsibilities or their family members, especially dependant family members that need care or guardianship. It is better to allow the line to go extant only in females, or even extinct, than to miserably fail at holding two Lordships.”

Harry nodded. He understood. He really did. It was hard work to keep on top of all of his Lordship duties for two houses. The portfolios alone were enough to cause him to tear out his hair at the roots. He did not feel so bad now for accepting, and begging, for so much help all of the time, and he was just grateful that he had people that he could ask for such advice and assistance that was then readily given to him.

“How are you doing with your revision, Harry?” Rabastan asked him, pulling Harry closer to his body and shifting his leg. Harry took the indication for what it was and he stood up and switched legs, snuggling back into Rabastan, letting the blood flow resume to his, likely dead leg.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Harry said a bit too loudly and excitedly. Rodolphus looked up again at his outburst, waiting for whatever story was coming this time. With such excitement, it was going to be good. “The Minister was there, naturally, but the idiot tried to patronise me! He tried to imply that I should have been studying for my exams and not at a party and he tried to tell me how hard and exhausting my exams were going to be.”

“Now this is going to be good.” Rodolphus grinned. “What did you say in reply?”

“I implied that I was doing recreational reading, because seriously who the hell has time for that during exam season? But anyway, I implied that I was reading up on laws and regulations and I insinuated that I believed that more past cases had been mishandled. Oh you should have seen his stupid face! He went bright red and started blustering and stuttering, and I figuratively took his hand and led him through all my hoops, but a long story short, I’ve managed to get him to promise to hold a full investigative inquiry on all past cases over the abuse of the laws and regulations. The best part was, it was within hearing distance of several reporters, it’ll be in the papers tomorrow morning, he can’t go back on his word without looking like he had a hand in the abuse of the laws.”

The two brothers roared with laughter and Harry sat, grinning happily.

“I cannot wait to see that unfold. I bet our dear Minister is still thinking about your words, and exactly what you’ve forced him to agree to.” Rabastan insisted.

“You are getting much better at manipulating others.” Rodolphus pointed out.

“Only when needed.” Harry said placatingly. “I’ll use such whims sparingly, so as not to water down the effect.”

A hand pressed against his forehead, pulling his head back, pinning back his hair and he turned questioningly, only for a lingering kiss to be pressed to his forehead. The goofy smile was automatic and he held on tight to Rabastan, a man he was coming to love more than anything else.

“This is a good start.” Rodolphus cut in, uncaring that he’d just butted in on their little intimate moment. “This is the several times edited version?”

Harry nodded. “More like several dozen times edited, but yes. The last three paragraphs are new, though.”

Rodolphus nodded. “You’ve done well. I can’t see any immediate loopholes, but the more people you have to look over it, the higher the chance that they could see something that no one else can.”

Harry smiled. “I’m doing well with it. It won’t be ready until next year, I don’t think. I don’t want to rush it and get it wrong or have it fail through the voting process. It needs to be perfect!”

“With some help you could get it done before next year.” Rabastan insisted. “It will be perfect too, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Harry sighed. He shifted to the side, sitting on the settee, and he lay back, putting his head in Rabastan’s lap, frowning in thought. At least until those wondrous hands fell to his scalp and started scratching and pulling. He all but purred like a cat.

“I love when you do that.” Rabastan said. Harry could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“I was about to say the same thing.” He grinned, his eyes still closed contentedly.

“Have you been given your exam schedule yet?” Rodolphus asked.

“No, not yet. Though there are rumours that Potions is going to be the first exam up this year. I’m not sure how much stock to put into that, though.” Harry said. “I’m keeping to a good revision schedule though, and I’m sure that the workload in class is going to increase in the next week or so too, so I should be very well prepared.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Lucius said as he came into the room with a smirk, Xerxes just behind him.

“How are you, dear?” Narcissa asked, standing to graciously receive her husband, giving him a peck to the mouth in greeting.

“Very well, and you my darling?” He asked, looking her over as if expecting her to be injured.

“I have been well, though I believe that our Harry has something to tell you.”

“I do?” He questioned, opening his eyes to peer up at his Mother, then his brain caught up with him past the wonderful ministrations of Rabastan’s fingers. “Oh, that.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and sat himself down next to Narcissa. “Oh that, what?” He asked silkily.

Harry sighed and he sat up slowly, allowing Rabastan to pull back his hands. He instead leaned against him.

“I was threatened at the party.” He said with a sigh.

“By whom?” Xerxes growled furiously, one large hand clenching tight into a fist.

“Corban Yaxley.” Harry grimaced. “He insisted that I would meet my death very soon.”

“I’ll kill him.” Xerxes insisted immediately and firmly. Harry knew that it was no meaningless threat either, Xerxes would literally kill him. “This has Rhadamanthus written all over it. That little prick has been stirring trouble up all over, I won’t have my family threatened!”

Harry felt all warm inside at hearing that. To know that he was considered as a part of Xerxes’ family, but Rhadamanthus wasn’t.
He loved these people, he truly did, and they loved him. Of that there was no doubt. They wouldn’t have given a damn otherwise, but they did and it meant the absolute world to him. He held Rabastan closer, listening to Xerxes and Rodolphus describe the curses that they would use on Yaxley to ‘persuade him to change his mind’. He listened with a grin, chuckling now and then at a particularly inventive curse or obscure hex and he enjoyed the company while he had it, because when he did go back to Hogwarts tomorrow, his workload was going to be absolutely insane and then the exams would be upon him sooner rather than later and everything was going to be so chaotic and hectic, but as soon as all of that was over, he would be looking forward to an entire summer with Rabastan. It could not come soon enough.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- X

Harry was correct in his assumption that his work load would increase the closer to the exams that it got. At least he, however, was not suffering nearly as much as the rest of his year mates, who all seemed to be drowning under endless homework and study.
Harry had less homework, true, but he was packing in more study and revision to make up for it. He was not going to allow his illness ruin his education, he might be on a lighter workload, but he was going to have exactly the same exams to sit come the end of May.
He had become an almost permanent resident in the library. He was poring over books and all of his past notes, trying to force his brain to perfectly memorise the information as he tested Draco, as Draco tested Blaise, and Blaise tested Theo, who would then test Harry, in a large, circular conversation of questions and answers and rather high tempers and sharp words.
Harry had to set reminders to take his potions, to eat, even to get himself into bed so that he didn’t stay awake all night reading. Lucius at least had been right about how many books he had picked out…he had barely cracked open the cover of the first book that he’d chosen to read yet. He just didn’t have the time for recreational reading with all of the revision that he was packing into his day. Thankfully there would be plenty of time after his exams, while the younger years were taking their exams and the older students were left mostly to themselves, to recover from the burnout caused by the first year of their NEWT exams and the extensive revision they had all done in preparation for them.
During all of this revision and exam preparation, he had forgotten almost completely that he’d sent Kreacher to steal the sword of Gryffindor, so when the old, sagging elf came into his rooms late at night in early May, he very nearly gave Harry a heart attack.

“Kreacher, what is it?” He asked, one hand pressed to his chest in alarm.

“Kreacher has done as Master instructed. The sword is at Grimmauld Pla…”

“Well done, Kreacher!” Harry said happily, excitedly. “Remember to tell no one of this, okay?” Harry told him with a grin. “Go on, off you go. Make sure that no one finds the sword.”

Kreacher nodded, looking a little strangely at him for the praise, but he did as asked. As soon as he was gone, Harry was writing a quick note to Lucius, warning him that the house might be searched and he would explain in detail, in person. He wrote another note to Draco, as a precaution, as he might be searched too.

“Pimsey!” He called out a little desperately, hoping that she would come quickly. As soon as that sword was found missing, Dumbledore would come straight to him.

“Young Master called for Pimsey?” She asked curiously, even as she curtseyed to him.

“Take this directly to my Father and tell him that it is of the utmost urgency.” Harry said, handing the note to him. “Tell him that I’ll be in contact soon asking for him to come to the school, but to await my owl.” He said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, young Master.” Pimsey curtseyed again and took the note from him and she was gone.

Harry breathed deeply. “Dobby!”

“Master Harry Potter, Sir calls for Dobby! Dobby is honoured, Sir.” The exuberant elf greeted him.

Harry smiled and settled Dobby down.

“I need you to take this note to Draco, okay? He won’t harm you, just give him the note and then leave, you don’t need to wait for him to reply, or for him to even say anything if you don’t wish to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Not a word of this to anyone, Dobby, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Harry Potter, Sir.”

Harry nodded and handed over the hastily scrawled note to Dobby and sent him off. He then sat back and he laughed. He calmed himself and then let the feelings of accomplishment wash over him. He had his bargaining chip, he had the information on the Horcruxes and possibly what they were, now he just needed a good enough reason to use it.
He went back to his revision and he waited, acting as natural as possible, trying not to let his heart hammer a tunnel through his ribcage. He calmed down a little the longer it went without anyone blasting down his door and he was able to regain control of himself and carry on with his revision. He couldn’t believe that his idea to use Kreacher to steal the sword had actually worked. Now the sword was safely hidden in Grimmauld Place and his plan had actually worked. He truly couldn’t believe his luck.
At eleven at night, he had put things off as much as he could, so he started getting himself ready for bed. He took his nutrient potion as usual and he settled himself into bed. Even if anyone did come asking him questions now, he would be in no state to answer them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Albus felt old and weary, he had come to his office and he had seen immediately that the sword of Gryffindor was gone. He had asked the portraits, he had asked the elf who had cleaned his office, but he had no luck with them. The portraits hadn’t heard anything, they hadn’t seen anything. The elf insisted that the sword had been there when it had cleaned the office, as it had buffed the pedestal that the sword was kept on.
He had gently probed into the elf’s memories and it was telling the truth, it had buffed the pedestal and the sword was there. It had gone missing between nine in the night, when the elf had cleaned his office, and half past ten at night, when he had come back to his office.
He had called Severus and Minerva to his office and he’d informed them of what had happened and he watched their faces as they considered who could have done such a thing.

“I don’t understand, Albus, who would have wanted it? Who would have done this?” Minerva asked.

Albus sighed tiredly as his mind once again went to the one person who might have done this. Harry Potter’s face came to mind. Harry who would know where the sword was, who was one of the small number of people who had been to the office since the sword had been displayed. Indeed on their last meeting he had indicated towards it and he’d told the boy that it was one of the treasures that Voldemort would be hunting…perhaps he had let slip to young Draco, who had told his Father, who had then gotten orders for Harry to take it. Harry did still have his invisibility cloak, no one would have seen him.

“I fear that it was Harry who has taken it.”

“Potter?” Minerva gasped. “He might have had an attitude shift in the last year, Albus, but he would never have done this!” She said sternly.

“I agree with Minerva.” Severus said silkily. “Potter has been better behaved this year than any of his previous years. He has done nothing to warrant suspicion and he has not been meddling or poking around in things that aren’t his business this year.”

“Harry is the only one who comes to mind.” Albus said. “I must speak with him and see.”

“It is half past eleven at night, Albus!” Minerva said shocked. “Potter is not a well boy, he needs to sleep and rest.”

“Surely it can wait for the morning.” Severus added.

“He will have had time to hide the sword if he has taken it if we wait. It needs to be now.”

He left his office, aware that Minerva and Severus were following him.

“You cannot be serious, Albus! Potter needs his sleep.” Minerva said sternly, hurrying along beside him.

“It has to be now.” He repeated more firmly.

Harry’s private rooms were on the fourth floor, so he had plenty of time to think about what he was going to say, and to convince his mind that it was Harry who had taken the sword, and for him to convince Severus and Minerva that he was not going to change his mind about waking up Harry at nearly midnight on a school night.
He stopped in front of the portrait guarding Harry’s rooms and he started knocking, gently at first and then getting louder and louder as it went longer without the door opening.

“He is asleep.” Minerva told him furiously. “We still don’t know what he’s taking or for what ailment, for all we know he could be on sleeping potions!”

Albus didn’t reply, instead he knocked harder. The three of them heard a clatter and a groan from inside the room and then the door was opened to reveal the dishevelled form of Harry Potter, who looked dreadful with his hair plastered to his head as if he had taken a shower and his sleeping shirt plastered to his front, wet marks visible through the material.
Dazed and confused looking, Harry swiped his dripping face with his arm and peered blearily at them through his wonky, hastily put on glasses.

“‘Fessor?” He slurred. “S’matter? Did I ove’sleep?”

“You have not overslept, Potter. It is almost midnight.” Minerva told him rather gently, visibly shocked and concerned at his appearance and demeanour.

Harry blinked at them, they could almost see his mind trying to make sense of the words. He even mouthed them slightly.

“Has some…something happened?” He asked. “Draco?”

“Nothing has happened to young Mister Malfoy.” Severus told him.

“May we come in, Harry?” Albus asked.

They watched as Harry forced himself to understand the words, the effort almost passing like physical pain over his face.

“Yes. Yes, ‘course.” Harry said and he pushed open the door and let them in.

They watched as he stumbled and wobbled his way to his two settees, set opposite one another with a coffee table between them. There were stacks of parchment, folders and books all over the coffee table.

“Here, sit down, Potter.” Minerva said concernedly as Harry led them to the settees.

Harry almost fell into the seat and he actually grunted. It was as he was sat down that they noticed that his body was shaking, almost violently enough to be called convulsing.

“You are feverish, Potter, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” Minerva asked as she sat beside him, able to feel the heat coming from him, even at a distance.

Harry shook his head. “No. No ‘Fessor, this is…its normal after ‘fect of…of…”

“Of one of the potions that you’re on?” Minerva finished for him as Harry struggled to string a sentence together.

“We are sorry to wake you up at such a late hour, but it was necessary.” Albus started, then became aware that both Minerva and Severus turned to glare at him.

“Are…are Mother, Father okay?” He asked.

“They’re fine, Potter.” Severus told him. “This is about something entirely different.”

“The sword of Gryffindor has gone missing from my office this evening.” Albus said, then he watched Harry’s reaction closely.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, then Harry’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Who…who would want that?” He asked with a frown.

“You remember where it was?”

“‘Course, sir. On the top shelf of your office, next to the Sorting Hat. Saw it…it when we were having those meetings.”

“The case was enchanted, but still someone managed to take it.”

Albus watched as Harry’s confused face wrinkled as he mumbled under his breath, trying to figure out what was being said. Then dawning understand blossomed, then his eyes widened.

“Me!” He said in a voice that actually broke, like a young boy going through puberty. “You think it was me?! Why would I…I take it?!” He demanded, trying to come across as indignant, but falling rather short as his voice wavered, his hands shook and a bead of sweat rolled down from his forehead into his eye, making him squint.

He swiped angrily at his forehead, but the sweat that he had removed with his sleeve was immediately replaced with more droplets that rolled down his face.

“Do you need a drink, Potter?” Minerva asked him gently.

Harry frowned some more, his mind obviously not dealing well with the abrupt change of conversation.

“Tea, I should have offered you all tea!” He said frantically, going to stand back up.

“No one wants tea, Potter.” Severus snapped, taking out his wand and turning a scrap piece of parchment on the table into a glass and then, with a simple spell, he conjured a jet of clear water from his wand tip into the glass before handing it over.

“Mother would be…be furious at my lack of manners.” Harry said before he gulped the water, trying desperately not to spill it as his shaking hand threatened to throw the water all over himself.

“I am sure that she would be more concerned with your delicate health.” Severus insisted.

“We do not think that you have the sword, we are merely asking if you have seen it or know of who would want it.” Dumbledore said, getting Harry back onto the train of thought of the sword.

Again Albus got glares from the other two Professors, but Harry nodded, as if it made complete sense.

“I don’t know why…why anyone would want…want…” Harry stopped speaking, frowning. “Want a manky old sword.” He finally finished. “It’s not like wizards walk with them…them on their hips any more. They’re not even allowed in duels anymore, Draco was telling me.”

“When did Draco tell you as such?” Albus persisted.

“In…October.” Harry managed to get out. “Hallo…Halloween. He was telling me ‘bout traditions of duelling on Halloween. He said that duelling used to include swords.”

“May we search your rooms?”

“‘Course!” Harry agreed immediately, then he frowned as he realised what was being said. “You said I wasn’t…wasn’t a suspect!” He accused.

“It’s just precautionary, Harry. Nothing to worry about.” He said jovially, but his suspicions had lessened since he had arrived here. His mind had already jumped to others who might have taken the sword instead.

Harry wasn’t in any fit state to hold a conversation, he was confused and dazed, if he had taken the sword, then he would have blurted something out by accident by now, or he would have thought of it, but his forefront thoughts were as jumbled as his speech. He was thinking mostly about homework and revision, what he had obviously been doing before he’d gone to sleep from the stacks of notes and revision work on the coffee table. Then he would think of Lucius and Narcissa, then Draco, then Remus, then his mind would wander to his bed. It did that often. The poor boy was clearly exhausted and in need of sleep.
A quick summoning spell with his wand and nothing even moved in Harry’s neat and tidy rooms, a revealing spell (just in case Harry had put an anti-summoning charm upon the sword) showed absolutely nothing and a trace showed that the sword had never been in these rooms before. He sighed wearily.

“Are you satisfied now?” Minerva demanded of him as she all but held up the clearly unwell boy.

“I apologise for waking you up, dear boy.”

“‘So…‘sokay.” Harry murmured softly, his eyes fluttering against his control as he jerked himself more upright in an attempt to keep his body awake. “You…you had to be sure.” He slurred. “Hope you find…find it soon and catch who took…took it.”

“Oh, I am sure that I will. Are you quite alright, Harry?”

Harry blinked at him and swiped his forehead yet again, the fourth time within as many minutes.

“Yes, sir. This is normal for…for the nutrient potion.” He said.

Albus almost smiled triumphantly as he broke a part of the puzzle that had been bothering him for a while now.

“You are on others too?” He queried.

He had hoped for Harry to tell him the other potions, there was at least one more than he knew of, as he had seen Harry taking two different potions, one with his breakfast and one at lunch, but he didn’t know if the potion affecting him now was a different one, or one of the two that he had seen Harry take, but Harry just nodded, then his eyes fluttered again and Minerva had had enough.

“This has gone on long enough, Albus.” She said. “Potter is clearly unwell and in need of rest!”

He nodded unhappily. Harry was much more open at the moment than he’d been all year, but he couldn’t be seen to be keeping a clearly ill student out of bed when he’d resolved the reason he had been here in the first place.

“Yes, we shall leave you now, Harry.” He said happily.

“I’ll get you tea.” Harry said in a slur, making to stand up again.

“No, Potter, we’re leaving.” Minerva told him. “You are to go to bed.”

“Bed, ‘Fessor?” He asked. “Is it not morning?”

“No, Potter…Harry.” Minerva said as gently as she could. “It is still night time, you are to go back to bed.”

“Oh. Okay.” He agreed with no fuss.

They watched him stumble and wobble his way to a door in the back wall that led to his bedroom and the three Professors stayed stunned for a moment, rooted to the spot, while things went quiet and calm in the rooms.

“We had best leave.” Albus said as he turned to the door and preceded the other two out of the rooms.

Severus was the last one out of the rooms and he turned his back to the other two to close the door and he couldn’t help but give a smirk as he took a moment for himself before he closed the door. Potter really was far too clever under the influence of the Malfoys. He was most definitely a force to be reckoned with.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry heard the door to his rooms shut and he peeked around the door into his living room. Seeing it empty he threw his head back and he laughed.
He walked back out and sat on his settee and moved around his notes and revision work. That had gone so much better than he’d planned. He hadn’t expected McGonagall or Snape to come and interrogate him as well, though to be fair they didn’t seem to have liked the idea of waking up poor, severely sick Potter, either.
He had fooled them, bar Snape, completely. Though Snape would have known immediately that he was playing a part, because he would have known exactly what side effects the nutrient potion would have and bumbling around like a fool wasn’t one of them.
He grinned, incredibly self-satisfied with himself as he took a moment to gloat to himself about how well that had gone. He had seen straight away when he’d opened the door that he was the number one suspect, but the further into the ‘discussion’ it had gotten he had actually seen Dumbledore trying to work out who else might have been able to steal the sword, or who else might have wanted to steal the sword.
Now to make things convincing, and because he was not going to be able to sleep with the night sweats now that he was actually awake, he was going to pull an all-nighter, or as much of an all-nighter as he could. He might go back and get a few hours’ sleep in the early hours, but he knew that it wouldn’t be enough and that was what he was counting on.
He summoned one of his new books that he’d barely had a minute to read since he’d bought it and he opened it to where he’d left off, several pages into chapter two, and he started reading again, feeling sweat slick up his legs and back unpleasantly as his fever raged on. He was going to need a quick rinse off before he tried to go back to sleep. Not that it would do much good as the sweat he’d get rid of would be back again within several minutes, but hopefully that would be enough time for him to get back to sleep.
At four in the morning he’d had a quick, cool shower and he was back in bed. He was so tired that he did actually manage to fall asleep before the sweating started again. A major plus in his grand scheme of things as he did actually want a few hours of sleep, and that was what he got.
He was woken up when Draco came bursting through his bedroom door and shook him awake.

“Harry, what is going on?” Draco asked him as Harry blearily opened his eyes.

“Uh?”

Harry groped his bedside table for his glasses and prodded them onto his nose.

“Time’s it?” He asked sleepily as he felt half dead and like he hadn’t gotten a single moment of sleep.

“It’s almost quarter to nine.” Draco said urgently. “Lessons start in fifteen minutes, you haven’t eaten, you haven’t showered. Come on!”

Harry cursed and sat up, threw off the covers and he went into his bathroom for the quickest shower in history as Draco set out his uniform for him.

“I brought you some toast, hurry up so you can eat something!” Draco shouted through the door.

Harry jumped out of the shower and a quick spell had him dry again. He pulled on the boxer-briefs he’d taken into the bathroom with him, before going out into his bedroom and he forced his sluggish limbs into his uniform and took the toast from Draco, eating it in several huge bites and swallowing it painfully as Draco did his tie for him and fixed his collar.
He got a glass of pumpkin juice to take his potion with instead of his usual morning tea.

“What is going on?” Draco asked him again. “What was that note you sent me about? Why have you slept so late?”

“Dumbledore came interrogating me at midnight last night, he woke me up and I couldn’t sleep afterwards with the night sweats.”

“What did he want?” Draco demanded furiously as he watched Harry throw back the potion and then drain his juice.

“The sword of Gryffindor has gone missing and he blamed me!”

“Did you take it?” Draco asked him seriously.

“Of course I didn’t take it!” Harry insisted. “I was revising all bloody night, I took my nutrient potion and I went to sleep. I had Kreacher take it for me. I’m writing to Father, there’s no way he can do such a thing.”

Draco just stared at him. “Why would you even want it?” He demanded in a hiss.

“That, I’m afraid, is of no importance to you. I’ll tell you what I’ve done with it afterwards, just know it’ll be used to protect our family. I needed it as a bargaining chip.”

“Against who?” Draco asked him.

Harry shook his head and picked up his book satchel. “You would rather not know, Draco. Like I didn’t tell you about Greyback. You don’t need to know this. Come on.”

Harry forced his feet into his shoes, took the apple that Draco gave him and bit into it, hurrying after his brother to their first lesson. They were already late, though by an incredible stroke of luck they had Transfiguration first.
They walked in almost fifteen minutes late and Harry didn’t even need to do anything to make himself look tired or sluggish, because he was tired and sluggish. Today was going to be incredibly long and exhausting, almost as bad as the Wizengamot party itself, though putting up with the aftermath of that…all the articles on him, the magazines that had scrutinised everything he was wearing, to how he wore his hair and how bright his smile was, then there were the newspaper opinions of everyone he had met, who he had shaken hands with or exchanged words with, but more importantly, who he hadn’t shaken hands with or spoken to. His handshake and chat with the Minister had been front page news. Then there were the other students to deal with too, asking him to sign their cut out pictures of him, thrusting pages of himself smiling and looking so good in his dress robes from Witch Weekly. It took every ounce of willpower not to snatch the pictures and tear them up. He ignored anyone who dared ask for an autograph and he just shooed away the other students impatiently.

“I’m so sorry, Professor, I didn’t wake up in time and Draco had to drag me out of bed. We do apologise for being so late.”

“Take your seats, the both of you.” Professor McGonagall told them with no fuss or fanfare. She actually looked rather concerned herself. Harry’s little over exaggeration had worked a treat and he had successfully removed the suspicion from himself. Now he just needed to keep it that way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

It was more difficult to pretend that he was innocent when he actually wasn’t. He was watched closely, so very closely. He tried to carry on as normally as he possibly could, but sometimes he would feel the weight of a heavy, assessing gaze upon him and he would know that he was once again being scrutinised. It was clear to him that none of Dumbledore’s other ‘suspects’ had panned out either, of course not, he was the actual culprit, or rather Kreacher was, but still. It was very unnerving.
He carried on with his lessons as normal, acting as if the missing sword gave him absolutely no trouble and like he gave no thought to it after the little night time visit. He spent time with Draco, Blaise, Theo, Astoria and Luna. He avoided Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Neville too. Poor Neville who was always sat on his own and always trying to hail him to talk to him. Neville whose parents were lying in hospital beds on a closed ward, and would always remain so, thanks to the man that Harry loved more than anyone else.
He didn’t often think of the things that Rabastan had done in his youth, of what had landed him in Azkaban in the first place, and led to the state of decrepitude that he was slowly healing from, but when he did, it was always with a heavy heart and a complete lack of understanding. He couldn’t see the man he loved and match him with his actions of the past. So in a way, he was willingly and deliberately misconstruing the personality of Rabastan, because he didn’t really want to think on it. He didn’t want to think of Rabastan standing over Frank and Alice Longbottom, torturing them gleefully with his brother, associate, and sister-in-law on the merest whim, on the false, hinted rumour that they knew where Voldemort was after his failed attack on Harry himself.
So he avoided poor Neville and quickened his steps if he saw him or heard him calling out to him from behind. The one time he had been cornered, he had brusquely excused himself and insisted that he had no time to talk as he had pressing matters to attend to. He felt so much guilt in shutting Neville down in this manner, but what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to hurt Neville, but the hurt of being brushed off now would seem insignificant to the hurt that Neville would feel when it emerged that Harry was going to be married to Rabastan Lestrange, one of his parents’ attackers. That hurt would be significantly higher if Harry pretended now to be his friend and confidant and it would be accompanied by a huge sense of betrayal too, that he, Harry, had known that he would be married to Rabastan, that he was actually willing to marry him still and was deeply in love with him, that he had known what Rabastan had done, yet he still smiled brightly and gave advice and help and a comforting friendship to Neville. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it, he was not so cruel and callous as to force Neville to like him, to be his friend, only to betray him in such a heartless manner later. No, this was most definitely for the best. Neville would get the hint soon enough, then one day, it would all become clear to him why Harry had abandoned him when he had done nothing wrong, when he had only been trying to help and had been trying to stop the other members of Gryffindor from stealing his belongings once more, as Harry was not naïve enough to believe that he could keep his chosen husband a secret forever. He was not so naïve that he believed that he would have to keep him a secret forever, because one day Voldemort would come out of the shadows and all his convicted Death Eaters would be free to walk around in public, given a full pardon for their past crimes and they would all be allowed to pursue their lives henceforth. Which meant that Harry’s marriage to Rabastan would become public knowledge. He was not ashamed of his love. He was not ashamed of Rabastan, who was not the arrogant boy who had gone into Azkaban, because that place had changed him. It had ripped the very core from him, reshaped it, tore it apart over and over, for fifteen long, agonising years. Rabastan was not the same person, but that did not excuse his past behaviours, though Harry believed fully that Rabastan, and Rodolphus, had both paid their dues. He believed that all people deserved a second chance, a clean slate in which to start again. Was he so naïve as to believe that they would never do it all again if ordered from them? No. But he did believe that they would not do as such for mere fun, or take such pleasure in their actions this time around, not like when they’d been young, handsome, arrogant boys.
Azkaban had stripped them of all of that. Of their youth and health, of their good-looks and tight, muscular bodies, of their arrogance and haughtiness. They were no longer so cocky or reckless. They now understood the value of patience, of planning, and it made them all the more dangerous and effective. He did not want to see the day when they were declared fit and healthy enough to actively take part in Voldemort’s vile assassinations and missions once more, but the day was fast approaching as they both made leaps and bounds in their recoveries. He knew better than to even ask Rabastan to not take part, not only would he get a flat out refusal, which would hurt him and their relationship, but it would also endanger Rabastan’s life if he ever did refuse Voldemort’s orders. He had known fully what he was getting himself into, he had known who Rabastan Lestrange was and what he had done before he’d met him for the first time, he had no leg to stand on in this issue, as he had accepted Rabastan regardless. He could not now try to change him.
He was almost glad of the distraction that came in the form of the last round of Quidditch matches. Today Hufflepuff played Slytherin, giving the students some much needed relief from the loom of the approaching exams. It was almost like the calm before the storm. Next week, Gryffindor played Ravenclaw in the last match of the year, deciding the Quidditch cup winners, right before the exams struck the older years, starting with the sixth and seventh years taking their NEWTs in the last week of May, then progressing down to the fifth years taking their OWLs and the fourth years preparing for their OWLs in the first week of June, then to the three younger years, whose exams were held in separate classrooms in the second week of June. The week after that would be the end of term, Harry was counting down the days anxiously.
He was sat, watching as Draco and Blaise played against Hufflepuff, green against yellow. Astoria was to one side of him, Theo to the other, and all three of them were cheering, wearing Slytherin colours. It was no longer cold enough to wear hats or scarves, so Harry had borrowed (without asking) one of Draco’s robes and ties. The nice green and silver combination really brought out his eyes. Astoria had already wrangled a photo of him wearing it.

“I hate watching as a spectator.” Harry complained as he tried not to shout out encouragement from the stands. He wouldn’t be heard anyway, not with the speed at which everyone was travelling. He never heard the crowd when he played either, only bits and fragments when he stopped for a moment to scout out the snitch.

“You’re a side line player.” Theo teased. Harry took that saying as the equivalent of being a back seat driver and he nodded.

“I can’t help it, I want to scream at them to move, or to pass, or I want to grab Draco’s head and turn it forcibly to where the snitch is just hovering, right there!” He huffed, pointing to where he could see the fluttering glint of gold that neither Seeker had spotted yet. “I’d have had this game won and over with by now and we’d all be back to revising.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good thing.” Theo laughed. “We need this one morning to just wind down a little.”

Harry chuckled and nodded his head in understanding. “Perhaps, but I have to play next week, just a week before the exams. I think we’ll all be begging for a short match then. I hope it doesn’t last longer than an hour, it will completely mess up my revision schedule.”

Theo snorted, but he said nothing about it. Likely because it was true. None of them would want a dragged out match just a week before their exams started.
Three players zoomed right over their heads and Astoria ducked down quickly, on principle, and it was automatic for Harry, a completely natural response, to put an arm out over her, just in case. It was not uncommon for spectators to be injured at Quidditch matches, either by the players, an off course Bludger, a misthrown Quaffle, or even other items, such as a Beater letting go of their bat or even a shoe or broken bits of broomstick. It was always better to be safe and to take precautions when watching a match.
The game progressed, with Slytherin and Hufflepuff being particularly evenly matched. Blaise was doing well to score so many goals, but he seemed to be the only one on the attack. Urquhart, the Slytherin captain, was screaming himself hoarse at fellow Chaser, Vaisey, but still he was more drifting lazily around rather than taking part in the match. It came as no surprise to Harry when five minutes later Urquhart called for a time out and substituted the distracted Vaisey.
Hufflepuff had a new game play too, a new form of attack, and not two minutes into play after the time out, Blaise was knocked from his broom by a well-placed Bludger. He toppled to the grass below and he did not move. It took every ounce of self-control for Harry not to scream or immediately rush to him. Beside him Astoria gasped and Theo sucked in a deep breath.

“He’ll be alright.” Harry insisted, reassuring them both. “It wasn’t a high fall, he’ll be taken to the hospital wing and we will collect Draco and go and see him after the match. Then we can spoil him with attention and sweets.”

“He’s not moving.” Astoria fretted.

“He is likely to be unconscious, which is a blessing if he has any broken bones, but look, the assistants are coming to get him now.” He pointed out the two seventh years who would be thinking of becoming Healers. They would help out in the hospital wing and learn a few basics from Madam Pomfrey to test themselves a little. There were always a few willing to help injured Quidditch players to the hospital wing during the matches.

Blaise was taken away, but Slytherin were shaken, and with the re-introduction of Vaisey to the pitch to replace Blaise, things went from bad to worse. They could see Urquhart shouting, getting redder in the face as Vaisey and the substitute failed to pick up the slack left by Blaise’s absence. It was a very large absence too, as he had scored eighty percent of Slytherin’s goals, and without him, it left just Urquhart as the only other goal scorer.
None of the team could really concentrate after Blaise’s injuries, knowing that he was in the hospital wing, so it came as no surprise when Hufflepuff started scoring more and more, catching up to Slytherin, denting the gap that Blaise had worked so hard to give his team.
It took just fifteen minutes for Hufflepuff to catch up and then surpass Slytherin in points, Draco seemed entirely distracted too, likely thinking about poor Blaise, but Harry willed him to push it from his mind momentarily, to put it aside until after the match. Blaise would be fine, Harry had been through enough injuries while at Hogwarts to know that Madam Pomfrey could work miracles. Blaise was in good hands.
When it seemed like Slytherin would actually lose this match, and they had fallen eighty points behind Hufflepuff, Draco suddenly soared off to the one side. It took Harry a moment to locate the snitch, dancing in front of Draco’s outstretched fingertips. He was on his feet, jumping and cheering for him as Hufflepuff’s Seeker tried to catch up, as their Beaters tried to take out Draco before he caught the golden snitch, but they failed and a moment later Draco was pulling up, the small, walnut sized ball clutched tight in his fist. Slytherin had won…barely, by the smallest of margins, but still, they had won.
The three of them spent a few minutes celebrating, as the Slytherin team celebrated their win, then the crowds started dispersing. Harry, Theo and Astoria went down to the pitch, instead of going back to the castle, so that they could wait for Draco.
He came out rather quickly, his broom over his shoulder. He didn’t say much, but he did greet Astoria with a quick, chaste kiss. He took her hand in his own, the one that wasn’t holding his broom. The four of them made their way to the hospital wing in worried silence.
They needn’t have bothered, Blaise was sat up in bed and he had chocolate and sweet tea in front of him on a tray.

“Did we win?” Was the very first thing he asked when he noticed them enter, his face serious and ardent.

“We won.” Draco said reassuringly, and Blaise exhaled deeply in relief. “Just barely, everything went to pot when we lost you, Urquhart had to bring Vaisey back on.”

“Why was he so distracted?” Harry asked.

Astoria snorted inelegantly. “A girl he was seeing is pregnant. His Father has promised that if the baby is his, he’ll be forced to marry her and he doesn’t like her that much. He much prefers his betrothed, but she insists on remaining untouched until she’s married, yet she’s a terrible flirt and tease, so he takes his…pleasures elsewhere. He must have gotten careless. He is praying that that baby isn’t his, so that he can keep his betrothal with the woman he prefers, and not be forced to marry a girl he was just using.”

Harry imagined Rabastan sleeping with someone else while they were engaged and his blood boiled hot. The very thought of Rabastan insulting and disrespecting him while being tied and committed to him made him want to rage.

“She actually still wants him after this?” Harry demanded.

“It’s a common practice.” Blaise explained from his bed. “A man will take his pleasures elsewhere and his intended will look the other way until they are married.”

“Yet she will be expected to remain a virgin, like I am?” He seethed.

“That’s right.” Draco said easily, not understanding.

“That’s bullshit.” Harry burst out. He startled the other three, who all turned to look at him.

“What is it? Are you alright?” Draco asked.

“No I’m not!” Harry raged. “What sort of male orientated privilege are you sprouting? Why does the woman of the marriage, or the bearer in my case, have to remain a virgin? Yet their partner can just swan off and fuck who he wants, but it’s okay as long as he doesn’t get anyone pregnant!”

“It’s only enforced in a small percentage of cases, Harry.” Astoria told him gently, laying a soft hand on his arm. “In modern day it is overlooked if the ‘bride’ isn’t a virgin. Only very few people actually insist that they are in a formal contract. The practice is dying out.”

Harry breathed angrily, almost wheezing like a wounded rhino.

“That anyone still insists upon it is a disgrace! It should be a fucking choice!”

“What makes you think that just because a woman is a virgin that she doesn’t have a choice?” Astoria demanded. “I’m still a virgin and I have chosen to remain so. That was my choice.”

Harry breathed to calm himself. “Was it insisted of you?”

“Have you met my sister?” Astoria said cattily. “Do you think that we would have had separate contracts? It was not insisted of me, but I have chosen to remain as such regardless. You shouldn’t stereotype people, Harry. Just because they are virgins, does not mean it is being forced from them.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding, Astoria.” Draco said gently. “He isn’t having a go at anyone who’s a virgin or has chosen to remain so, he’s a virgin himself and has chosen to remain so until his wedding night, he’s talking about those who are forced to remain as virgins until they are married, about the gender inequality between men and women, where a woman is forced to remain chaste and untouched, yet her intended partner can do as he pleases with whomever and father children on them.”

Harry nodded tightly. “I was forced by the Lestranges to remain pure. They even tested me with Veritaserum to make sure that I hadn’t so much as touched anyone else.” He said.

The other three looked a bit uncomfortable at hearing that.

“They are an ancient Pureblooded line and they’re big on tradition.” Draco tried to insist.

“I don’t care. It should be my choice. If I ever found out that Rabastan was having sex while he and his family are insisting so much on my purity, I would break our engagement in a heartbeat. If he can be so unthinking, so uncaring and callous towards me, I don’t want to be married to him.” He said seriously.

“I don’t think he would be having sex with anyone else.” Draco told him. “He’s focusing so much on his recovery and he loves you so much. He’s utterly devoted to you.”

Harry nodded. It was true enough and he had no doubts of Rabastan’s fidelity, but he didn’t know if it was through his love for him, or if it was merely lack of opportunity. He was going to drive himself mad if he carried on thinking such things, so he pushed it aside.

“How are you really, Blaise?” He asked abruptly, but sincerely.

“Fine, I never even broke anything, I just hit my head on the ground when I fell. I’m being kept here overnight just for observation as I probably have a concussion, but once I regained consciousness, the danger went down.”

“I’m glad.” Harry smiled, laying a hand over Blaise’s covered knee. He was still wearing his Quidditch robes. “Do you want some things if you’re staying here overnight? Pyjamas, a book, perhaps a favourite teddy bear?”

Blaise laughed. “Just the pyjamas and some revision work, leave the teddy on my pillow, he doesn’t like being moved.”

It was a huge relief hearing Blaise joking around as normal, to hear that he was going to be fine and released from the hospital wing tomorrow morning. Quidditch injuries could be very nasty and rather serious, but it was a miracle that Blaise had escaped without any broken bones and nothing more than a concussion and likely a few bruises. Where the Bludger had struck him was going to be particularly painful, not to mention colourful, when the bruise came through.
They stayed with Blaise until Madam Pomfrey shooed them out, saying that Blaise needed his rest, but Draco did go back a little later, with Blaise’s book bag that contained a pair of pyjamas, a change of underwear, the requested revision work, and a few sneaky sweets hidden in the bottom with a glass bottle of pumpkin juice.
Harry said his goodbyes to his brother and to Astoria and he went back to his own rooms, leaving Draco and Astoria to spend a bit of time together on their own for the afternoon. He knew exactly how awful it was to constantly have a chaperone, so he refused to put the two through as such. If Astoria was steadfast in her choice of remaining as a virgin until her wedding night, then they didn’t even need a chaperone, so it was a waste of his time. Unlike with everyone else when he was with Rabastan, he didn’t care about the two having a good snog together.
Instead, he got some of his revision work out, made himself a cup of tea, and he settled down in perfect peace to do some work on his own, sat on the floor against the settee at the coffee table. He tried not to recall the memory of the recent conversation. He would not doubt Rabastan’s love, and he wouldn’t protest the clause in his contract that insisted that he remain a virgin for his wedding night. There was no one else he would have wanted to sleep with, no one else he would have given it to, and once he had entered into a contract, into a relationship, he would never have been so disrespectful as to sleep around, as he wouldn’t have if he had not been a virgin upon the signing of his contract. Either way he would not have had sex with anyone else while in a relationship, so he would not protest, but he did think it highly unfair for the partner who would fall pregnant in the marriage to be held to such standards when the other partner wasn’t.
He breathed deeply to calm himself and he went back to his revision. He had far too much going on to fret about the unfair terms of his contract now. He should have done that last summer if he had had any true trouble with the enforced clause, but again, last summer he had had a lot going on and everything was a lot newer back then. He had struggled just to keep his head above the water, what with learning to live with the Malfoys, clashing with Draco, learning a whole new set of behaviours, of expectations and punishments. Then there was learning to look after his Lordships, the family portfolios, the duties to the Wizengamot, learning how to speak in those meetings so as not to look a fool. It was a lot of work, a lot of duties to uphold, but now he was more on an even footing, it was too late. He and Rabastan were now engaged, their wedding day had been set. It was too late to bitch about the terms of their contract and though he had agreed to the Veritaserum test, because he had known that he was still ‘pure’ as Rodolphus had phrased it, he still couldn’t help but remember Xerxes’ look of relief, as if the other man had expected him to fail.
Harry sighed and tried to push that from his mind too. He was much too distracted it seemed, he’d never get any revision, or any of his homework, done at this rate. It did not help that the school owl he had sent off would be arriving either tonight or tomorrow morning and he would be expecting his Father to come about Dumbledore dragging him out of bed at midnight to accuse him of theft…it was inconsequential that he had actually taken the sword, a priceless relic of Godric Gryffindor, for his own purposes.
Sighing again, much heavier this time, he stood back up and left his revision where it was. He instead picked up his cup of tea, one of his recreational books, and he headed to the bathroom for a long, relaxing soak in the bath. Perhaps he was still taking on too much, regardless that it seemed that he had gotten better at juggling all his responsibilities. The portfolios needed to be checked twice a day, just in case, then there was the new legislation that he was writing up, both for the dramatic change in creature laws and the one he was doing for the investigation of the Dementors and their steadfast removal from Azkaban, the latter of which he was doing with absolutely no help, he might add.
Then there were the meetings with Dumbledore, the discovery of the Horcruxes and by extension the secret of Voldemort’s inhumanity. Then there was the sword, his bargaining chip, which was now hidden in Grimmauld Place, he would need to go and check on that too, to make sure that Remus wouldn’t find it. Perhaps if he kept Remus so busy with decorating then he wouldn’t have the time to look in the depths of the attic for hidden treasures.
He sat himself in the bath, he cracked open his book and he started reading, letting his mind focus only on the words on the pages, not on anything else. What was done was now done, and he would have to live with that, with the choices that he had made, and the things that he had done. It was too late to change them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

It had taken three days for his owl to reach Lucius Malfoy and his Father immediately took an emergency day off of work to come and visit him. Harry had been expecting him and he opened the door to his rooms early on Sunday morning, the eleventh of May, the day after Slytherin’s narrow win over Hufflepuff.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Would you care to explain why our home was searched yesterday afternoon?” Lucius asked as soon as the door was closed behind him.

“I warned you beforehand.”

“You did. Thankfully, as I needed that time to ensure that nothing was amiss and that your letters and gifts from Rabastan were removed from the house, to Lestrange manor. You have piqued the interest of your soon to be in-laws as well. I believe that we would all like an explanation, Harry.”

“Would you like some tea, Father? This explanation might take a while.” Harry said courteously.

Lucius sighed and he nodded his head curtly before he sat himself on the settee and laid his cane beside his leg. He took note of all the books and pieces of parchment spread over the coffee table, which, while never completely clear, was usually not as messy either. Picking up several pieces of parchment and rifling through them he realised that it was all exam revision and he replaced it with a proud smile.
Harry brought over two cups of tea and he took a plate of biscuits that he had carried over, balanced on his forearm, and he placed it on the table between them. They each took a sip of their tea and then Lucius turned right back to business.

“Why were we searched and how did you know of such a thing?”

“I was the cause.” Harry admitted immediately. “I took the sword of Gryffindor and I’ve hidden it well away from Dumbledore and no one will be able to find it. Dumbledore immediately suspected me and he actually dragged me out of bed at midnight!”

“I am aware of such, Severus floo called me to tell me that you had put on a very good, very convincing show.”

Harry chuckled. “It was rather convincing. I even slipped in a little hint of true information by pretending to let slip about my nutrient potion. It is the most general of the three that I’m taking and it ties back in with your adoption of me due to abuse.”

“Why did you steal the sword? Why do you need it?”

“It will tie into some of my plans for later.” Harry said. “At the moment I’m still hashing everything out, but I knew that I needed it, so I took it when the opportunity arose and then removed the blame from myself by acting more ill than I truly was.”

“The search on the house was orchestrated by Dumbledore to look for the sword.” Lucius sighed. “He believed that you would have hidden it at home.”

“I can’t believe he’d think that I’d be so dull.” Harry giggled.

“You were ‘dull’, as you say, for taking it in the first place!” Lucius chastised.

“I needed it!” Harry defended.

“Pray tell, for what purpose?” Lucius demanded. “Why would you need a sword?”

“I need it as a bargaining chip. Its goblin made, I know for a fact that the goblins want it back.” Harry lied.

“So that rules out one of your vaults as a hiding place.” Lucius said thoughtfully. “You’d never keep it here. So that leaves Grimmauld Place.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If you don’t know where it is, you can’t be implicated. If I am caught, there’s no reason for me to drag anyone else down with me, not that I’m going to be caught, of course, but as a precaution it’s safer not to tell anyone until after the fact.”

Lucius sighed, knowing exactly how stubborn his son was, especially when he believed that he would be protecting those he cared about by keeping silent.

“I hope that you know what you’re doing, Harry.”

“I do.” Harry told him.

“Good, now tell me more about that old fool and what he did to you. Severus has already told me as such, but your note said to await your owl, so I did, now I need to know about what happened from your point of view.”

“Well I needed to act like nothing was wrong, so I finished off the revision that I was already doing, got ready for bed and took my nutrient potion as normal. I had no clue he was going to hammer down my door at nearly midnight on a school night. I thought that he’d at least wait until the next morning.”

“No, quite what the man was thinking, I dread to hear.”

“Anyway, I over inflated the side effects of the nutrient potion, of course I was sweating out my body weight and you could feel the fever at several paces, but I acted so dazed and stupid. McGonagall was definitely on my side, she was furious!”

“I will inform the governors and I’ll drop it in meaningless small talk with the Minister, with any luck Dumbledore will not be returning for your seventh year.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Lucius told him again, more seriously this time.

“I do. I have a plan and so far, it’s working out perfectly.” Harry said happily.

“Do try to focus more on your exams than on your schemes and plots, Harry.”

“I will.” He said, then he frowned as he thought of something. “What happens if a meeting is called during an exam?”

“It won’t. You have been excluded from the calling list for the duration of your exams.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh.

“Of course, if there are any votes or debates, they will be held off until you can be there in person. If anything is urgent then it will fall to your proxy, though as you haven’t named one…”

“I have.” Harry interrupted with a smile.

“Who have you named? Surely not Draco?”

Harry laughed. “No, I named you.”

“It was nice of you to inform me of this decision.”

Harry just grinned. Lucius sighed. Sometimes there was no chastising the boy, he just didn’t seem to care and if he had a mind to, he wouldn’t let things bother him. This was one such time and Lucius let it go…he seemed to be doing that a lot with Harry.

“How is your revision coming along with your illness?”

“Great, I still have less homework to do than my year mates, though I have picked up more work for Transfiguration and recently for Potions too, but I’m still on much less than the others, so I’m packing in more revision. The exams are a few weeks away now and there have already been several cases of hysteria and a couple of panic attacks. I can’t wait for them to all be over so I can get in some much needed rest and relaxation! Not to mention reading.”

“How are you going with those several dozen books that you bought?”

Harry grinned. “Alright, but not as well as I would have liked due to the exams creeping closer. I’ve read two and I’m on a third now.”

“I’m very impressed. I didn’t think you would get through the first book.” Lucius said.

Harry smiled. “I never thought I would either, but I couldn’t sleep after I was woken up by Dumbledore for his little accusational chat, the night sweats were awful. So I stayed up reading.”

Lucius sighed and he drained the rest of his tea. He grabbed his cane and stood. Harry did the same.

“Let us see if we can’t get rid of that meddling old fool with this incident now.” He said.

“I hope so, I’ve had enough of him interfering with everything.” Harry said.

“I shouldn’t think it would be too long. There are quite a few who have turned against him now in recent months, most of them because of you actually.”

“Me?” Harry questioned.

“Indeed. You have more fans than you realise. You tell them to jump and they will do so without question. It is rather galling.”

Harry laughed. “If you say so. If it helps me get what I want, I don’t really care that they’ll do what I say.”

“Of course not.” Lucius despaired. “Oh, here, this is from Xerxes. I believe you greatly amused him with your last letter. Indeed, he could barely speak through laughing after reading it and he would chortle now and then as he quilled your reply.”

Harry said goodbye to Lucius, taking the proffered letter, and he grinned, going back to his coffee table as he split the wax on the letter. What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on Dumbledore’s wall when Lucius tore him a new arsehole.
He shook out the letter and read it. Firstly, Xerxes deplored that anyone had shown him a memory of his younger self, second he said that if he so much as mentioned the threat of detention for his late essay then he would curse him into a vegetative state and thirdly, he had insisted firmly that he had not been groomed while in Hogwarts. Apparently, according to Xerxes, Professor Slughorn had liked to think that he had a hand in the successes of those who he had invited into his ‘Slug Club’ of which Xerxes had been a member, along with all the other boys in that room. He exchanged connections and ‘legs up’ for acknowledgement in the future, including gifts, such as tickets for shows or sporting events, sweets, invitations to parties or introductions to other important people. He sounded utterly vile to Harry, and still very manipulative and parasitical. Far from reassuring him, Xerxes’ letter was making Harry dislike the man he had never met even more, though at least he believed Xerxes when he insisted that he hadn’t been groomed, or anything much worse and sinister, which was at least a slight weight from his mind.
Unable to concentrate and unable to do anything productive now, Harry decided to visit Remus and see how well Grimmauld Place was coming on. It would be a better use of his time to check that the sword was actually still safe. It might help to cool his anger too, instead of thinking of a grown man manipulating children into sending him gifts and invitations.

“Dobby.” He called out.

“Master Harry Potter, Sir calls for Dobby.”

“Hi Dobby, can you take me to Grimmauld Place, please. I want to visit Remus.”

“Of course, Sir. Anything for the great, noble Harry Potter, Sir.”

Harry tried not to laugh, or roll his eyes, at Dobby’s exuberance and instead he held out his hand and suddenly he found himself in the kitchen of number twelve and he startled Remus so badly that Harry heard a cup smash.

“I’m so sorry, Remus!” He said. “I suppose I should stop with these spur of the moment visits.” He laughed.

He couldn’t help but notice that Remus hid several documents from his general view before coming to hug him.

“Nonsense. This is your house, Harry. You can come whenever you like, though a few moment’s warning would likely save my poor heart from failing. And it would save the china too.” He added with a rueful grin as a wave of his wand repaired the cup and another cleaned up the spilt tea.

Harry grinned, pushing the documents out of his mind for future thoughts.

“I got so sick of revision, I needed a break, so I decided to come and see how the decorating was going and so far, this looks amazing!” He said looking at the bright, clean looking kitchen. It was bright white, with pale grey accents, just as he’d asked for.

Gone was the grungy table that had to have been centuries old. It was replaced by an even bigger table that was a lovely pale wood, perhaps pine, (but Harry was no expert on different woods or how to recognise them) with several dozen matching chairs.
The counters had been ripped out and replaced, the walls and ceiling had been freshly painted, the floor was newly tiled and the appliances were all new too. The only thing that had stayed the same was the large fireplace, but the brickwork had been scrubbed vigorously until they were once again red and not soot stained black.

“It looks incredible in here. I feel like I can eat without catching something or getting food poisoning! Well done, Remus.”

“I can’t take the credit for the fireplace.” He said, taking note of where he was looking. “Kreacher came back suddenly and he just started scrubbing them for ‘Master Harry Potter.’ I take it you found him after?”

“Yes, the little beast was hiding in Walburga Black’s bedroom. He told me that he’d made a nest of sorts under her bed. I ordered him to dismantle the nest, to stop hiding and to start help cleaning up.”

Remus smiled at that. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the rooms that have been done. I don’t think they’ll be ready in time for the summer though, Harry.”

“That’s okay. We’re doing our best, or rather you are while I’m in school.” Harry laughed.

“I’ve been trying to get to the guest bedrooms too, but the main rooms are taking so long to clean up, then there’s ripping out the old furniture and repainting and getting the new stuff in.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, the main rooms have to come first, then the unused rooms. The kitchen was the main one for me. Then the living rooms and drawing rooms, the bathrooms and the hallways. Please tell me that that troll’s leg and the house elf heads have been removed?”

“They’ve been removed.” Remus said with a grin.

Harry let out an exaggerated breath. “Thank fuc…Merlin.”

Remus gave him a look and Harry grinned innocently.

“You are so much like your Father, and Sirius’s influence must have rubbed off on you at some point too.”

Harry grinned wider. “Good! I’d hate to be too uptight and stuffy, Professor Lupin.”

Remus gave him a grin of his own at that. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Harry loved the main hallway. It was bright yellow, just as he’d wanted. It looked so bright that he was almost convinced to shade his eyes. He grinned.

“This is perfect! Just what I wanted!”

The carpet underfoot was a nice cream colour, charmed to repel dirt and stains, the ceiling was white, all the light fixtures were gold and the portrait of Walburga Black was gone.

“Did you have to remove the section of wall?” Harry asked innocently.

“No, I set fire to the portrait, contained it to just that one section and once the portrait was completely burnt off, I repaired the wall and then painted it.”

Harry laughed. “Thank Merlin she’s gone. How does the dining room look?”

“As per your wishes, it’s a little darker, but with the added red you picked out, it doesn’t look dingy or gloomy. I also made sure not to break a single plate or glass.”

Harry walked around the room and he was very happy to see that his idea of pairing a bright red with a darker wood worked perfectly together.
It was the same throughout the house, all the hallways were yellow, gold and white, making it bright and colourful all the way through. The drawing room, whose curtains had once been filled with doxies and had had dead puffskeins under the sofa, was now bright blue and a medium shade of rosewood as an accent.

“I’m going to tear down that tapestry too.” Harry said conversationally. “There’s another one in the Black vault that’s much more elegant and beautiful and what’s more, it isn’t damaged and as the Lord of House Black, I’m on it.”

Remus nodded, but otherwise stayed silent as Harry walked around his house, looking and marvelling at all of the changes.

“Is there anything that you don’t like? It can always be changed.” Remus said.

“No, I love it! I don’t want to change a thing about the redecorated rooms.” Harry insisted. “When I first came to this monstrosity of a house, well, I never once believed that there was any redeeming it. I thought it would just be better to bulldoze it and start again from scratch. Seeing it like this, I realise that I was wrong. I just wish that Sirius had been alive to see it like this. It would have made him so much happier.”

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. Harry sighed heavily.

“I’d best be getting back. I have a lot of revision to get through. I need to pass these exams if I have any hope of being a teacher.”

“How is…how is Aceline?”

“She’s great!” Harry replied happily, glad that Remus was at least trying. “She’s come on so well and her English has really improved, as has my French, and now that we can understand one another more we’re getting closer. She’s so supportive of everything that I do and I told her about this house as well, how it was being cleaned up and painted and getting all new furniture.”

“Is…are you doing this redecoration for Aceline?” Remus asked him, shocked.

“Of course! I would have been humiliated to have brought her to this house and to even contemplate asking her to live here with our children!” Harry shivered. “No.”

“You’re going to live here with her?”

“After we marry, of course.” Harry insisted. “Until then I’ll be living with her family in France as I do my teaching apprenticeship in Beauxbatons while waiting for her to graduate. Once I’ve completed that I’ll apply for a job at Hogwarts, if I get that then we can transfer our lives back over to Britain and I can move in here with her and any children that we’ll have at that time. So I might have to start converting some bedrooms into child friendly versions, not to mention set up a nursery too, but that can wait until all the main rooms are finished, they are more important for now. We have another three years at least until any children start appearing.”

“Is Aceline’s favourite colour yellow, by any chance?” Remus asked wearily.

“It is, how did you know?” Harry asked, trying not to laugh at the thought of Rabastan’s favourite colour being bright, sunshine yellow. His favourite colour was green…Harry’s eyes shade of green to be exact.

“Just a feeling.” Remus said weakly.

“Thank you so much for all that you’ve done here, Remus! It’s actually beautiful now. How I would have imagined it would have looked in its heyday, at the peak of its prime, when this area was well to do and coveted highly. Before it all went to rack and ruin.”

“Anything for you, Harry.” Remus told him and Harry gave him a hug before calling Dobby to take him back to Hogwarts.

It was only when he was safely back in the castle and Dobby left that Harry allowed his mind to drift to the parchment documents that Remus had quickly hidden from his sight.

“Kreacher.” He called out.

“Master calls for old Kreacher.” The elf warbled as he appeared in front of him.

“Yes, Kreacher. I want you to do something else for me now. Something that requires stealth, silence and for you to remain invisible.”

“What would Master have of poor, old Kreacher?”

“I want you to spy on the Order of Phoenix meetings that go on at number twelve Grimmauld Place.” Harry said firmly. “I want you to listen to all of them, document exactly who was there and what they each say. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Master.” Kreacher said, a lot happier now that he knew that he wouldn’t have to steal anything else from highly warded rooms.

“After each meeting ends, you will bring the information to me when I’m alone, alright?”

“Yes, Master.” Kreacher answered.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry said, dismissing the elf.

He sat back on one of his settees and he lost himself in his thoughts. He should have done this a long time ago. Kreacher had been his from the very moment of Sirius’ death. He had known that the Order was still meeting at Grimmauld Place, he should have thought sooner to have Kreacher spy upon them for him. Because of that error, he had missed out on almost a year’s worth of meetings, a year’s worth of information. He sighed, there was nothing to be done for it now. He’d just have to hope that the information that Kreacher would bring him from now on would be enough for him to glean the Order’s plans from.
After all, if he knew what his enemies on all sides of him were doing, it would be a hell of a lot easier to counter their attacks, to manoeuvre his own plans through their own defences and to have a heads up on anything that he needed to know, such as anyone getting close to finding his Fiancé, any plans to attack or humiliate his parents, or any plans involving himself.
He truly should have thought to have done such a thing sooner, maybe then he wouldn’t have been caught off guard by Bill appearing in the Wizengamot and he might have been able to handle his sudden appearance better, but he did have a lot going on, he just hadn’t thought to do as such, but at least the sword was still safe and hidden and it didn’t seem likely that Remus would have the time to even look in the attic, let alone find the hidden sword in it. The redecoration was going really well, but there was still a lot more left to do. He would need to find a safer, more secure place for the sword soon though, just in case, until the time came for him to use it as the bargaining chip that it was taken to be. He truly hoped that Voldemort liked it and that, as Dumbledore believed, he would want it very, very much. His entire bargaining ploy was riding on just how much Voldemort wanted this sword, and how much he would want to know that Dumbledore knew about his Horcruxes and was hunting them down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

A/N: I’m getting to the very good parts now and I can’t wait, in the next chapter we have more Quidditch, exams and Horcrux hunting. Then we’ll have the much anticipated summer and endless Harry/Rabastan interaction. Of course this includes Rodolphus and Xerxes too and the hated Rhadamanthus will make a comeback…no it is not yet his time to die, unfortunately, but he will die.
I believe that this is all that needed doing this time, thank you so much for reading and reviewing, lovelies, until the next update,

StarLight Massacre. X
- 19
- 20
- 21
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir