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The Only True Lords	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 54573 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-One—A Silent Warning
            Severus shut his eyes and let his body relax. It was typical of him that when he finally got the chance to put down his burden, with Potter safe behind wards and charms and the other Slytherin students escaped whole from the Ministry and the Wizengamot, he could not sleep.
            Or perhaps the cause was his dream of Albus the last time he had slept, and the way he would rather escape from confronting the man again.
            Severus sighed and lowered himself further and further into the darkness. Whether or not his mind slept or ran in circles, he could make sure that his muscles loosened and fell limp, his head rolled back on his neck, his hands no longer tightened in a desperate search for the wand and the potions flasks he needed to feel safe. He had learned the skill long ago, but it had served him best of all in this last year of the war. He needed true rest, craved it, but in its place, this controlled doze would sustain him for a few days.
            And a few days was all it had been, since the death of the Dark Lord and the cementing of the bond.
            Severus would have shaken his head, but an important rule of the relaxation he followed was that one must not move after control of the body had been yielded. Therefore, Severus let himself shake his head only in the internal sanctuary of his mind.
            Had there ever been someone so ill-equipped for the role of Lord as Potter was?
            His memory supplied several historical names, mostly from the cautionary stories that his mother had told him when he was young, and he grimaced. Yes, there had been. But most of them had destroyed themselves within a few months when going up against political enemies, and their vassals had made their own way after that, free to live and die.
            And there was an even more important distinction. None of them had had Severus Snape for a vassal.
            The shield mark on his arm did not burn now, perhaps because Potter and several of the others were asleep and that was the closest to quiescent that the bond could be. But Severus knew it was changing him, knew that he would not care so much for Potter’s survival if it was not. And his own desire to die had retreated into the background, an inconvenience now rather than a strategy to carry out immediately.
            If he was free…
            But he was not. That was the problem. Severus knew many Slytherins planned their lives exclusively around what they wanted, dreaming of what they would do when opponents and obstacles were removed. But Severus had worked his way under constraints for so long that he had begun to fear the need of constraints was woven into his soul. This time, it was the Lord bond. Before, it had been the Dark Mark, and the need to be Dumbledore’s spy, and the guilt for causing Lily’s death.
            Severus paused.
Of course he still felt guilty about Lily, he reassured himself a moment later. He would never not feel guilty. He had sworn himself to her son’s protection because it was the only way he could still be close to some bit of her, but his own feelings for Potter, positive or negative, were as nothing but a shadow next to her fire.
Yet…
That guilt was less than it had been, a change Severus had never experienced before. Always, he had felt the looming blackness of that emotion in the back of his mind. Always, he had known it would throw his life into gloom even if by some great enchantment and strategy he survived the war with the Dark Lord.
            Yet. That shadow was not so dark now.
            Somewhere between contemplating the shadow that should have been there and the one that still was, the one embodied by the silver shield mark on his right arm, Severus slid into sleep.
*
            It was long. It was hard. Many times, he almost turned back and gave up. Simpler to stay down here, where no one would expect him to do anything.
            But staying down there would be a betrayal of a friend. Either the friend who had died or the one who had come to rescue him. Which one, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything that had happened, and he didn’t really want to wake up because of that. He would have to deal with everything that made him less than sure.
            But in the end, after the long struggle on the path that slipped away like sand beneath his gripping fingers, Greg opened his eyes.
            He was on a shabby couch, in front of a large fire built on a hearth of dark stone. Greg sat up and looked around. This was so much like home, decay included, that for a second he thought about calling for his mum.
            But then he felt something strange on his right arm, the way that he knew he had through the mist in his mind even when he was asleep, and he turned it over. There was a shield mark there. It was silver.
            Greg knew he wasn’t at home, then.
            He sat there for a long time and stared into the fire, and then decided that he was bloody hungry and he wanted something to eat. Since no one was coming, and he didn’t know where he was, but no one had attacked him yet either, he could see about getting some food. He hopped down off the couch and wandered into the room next to it.
            That was just a corridor, set with doors, so Greg walked down it, opening them. He saw deserted rooms, and deserted rooms, and a library that he backed out of. Libraries were Draco’s thing, not Greg’s.
            Draco had helped him, though. For a moment, Greg wavered, wondering if Draco would show up if Greg sat in the library until he came. But hunger was stronger, and he shut the door there, too, and continued walking.
            At last he found his way to a dusty and cobwebbed kitchen. He settled down at the table in the middle and clapped his hands, the way that his mum usually called for their house-elf.
            Either there wasn’t a house-elf, though, or it was spelled to ignore Greg. Greg sighed, and stood up. Luckily, he had plenty of practice looking through cabinets for things to eat when their house-elf, Miti, was busy.
            He found a loaf of bread under a Preservation Charm in the third cabinet he tried, and sat down to rip off chunks with his hands. It seemed his wand was gone, but it wasn’t like Greg knew lots of Cutting Charms anyway. His mum had always said they were too dangerous for him.
            Greg wanted his mum.
            He could feel his lip trembling, and he filled his mouth up with bread to keep from thinking about it. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to eat. And if this was the only food they were going to offer him, then he’d keep eating.
            “Gregory.”
            The word made Greg jerk towards the kitchen doorway. He knew the voice wasn’t Draco’s, but he couldn’t help hoping. Draco was the one who had come to rescue him when he was at the bottom of his mind. Greg knew it, even though he couldn’t really remember how he knew it. If he was hiding at the bottom of his mind, how could he remember things?
            But it was Blaise Zabini who stood in the doorway now, watching him eat. Greg grunted and kept eating. He knew that Zabini had all those fancy manners and the posh house that was a lot nicer than his mum and dad’s. That didn’t matter. He wasn’t the one who was Greg’s friend. Greg didn’t have to be nice to him.
            “You must be wondering where we are, and what happened to you,” Zabini went on, sliding into the room and up to the table. Greg watched him come. He supposed that he was graceful, but he didn’t have any reason to be. And he kept looking at Greg and smiling. The only people who smiled at him like that were his parents and Draco and Vince and sometimes Mr. Malfoy. Which meant Zabini was up to something.
            Vince would never get to be up to something again.
            Greg stuffed enough bread in his mouth that he thought he could plug up the thoughts, and Zabini winced. Greg chewed enough to get most of the throatful down, and then grunted an acknowledgment at Zabini.
            The other boy gave a sigh as this was all just too distressing for him. Maybe it was. Greg wanted to suggest that he get out of this house and go back to his mum’s, but his mouth was still too full, and food was more important than speaking.
            “You should know that we’re bonded to Potter now,” Zabini said.
            Greg thought of the silver mark on his arm, and nodded. That made sense. He thought he remembered a little of that. Maybe Draco had put the knowledge there, when he came and got Greg from the bottom of his mind.
            “But he’s negotiated with the Ministry to try us,” Zabini said, and made a little sweep with his hand around the kitchen. “In the meantime, we’re staying here. This is the Black house that Potter inherited from his godfather. He made an oath that we’re not going to escape from it, and none of us have wands.”
            Greg winced a little. He hated not having a wand. On the other hand, it would probably be worse for Zabini, because he didn’t have the strength to defend himself with his hands and feet the way Greg did.
            “Doesn’t that matter to you?” Zabini demanded.
            Greg thought about it, and then decided to tell the truth. No reason not to. “Not as much as food,” he pointed out, and dug into the center of the loaf again. It was starting to look hollow now, and it crumbled beneath his fingers.
            “You’re disgusting,” Zabini said, although he said it in a mutter, because he thought that way Greg couldn’t hear him. Greg could have pointed out that he could hear him perfectly well, but he didn’t want to. Zabini was a berk. Greg crunched through another part of the crust before Zabini lifted his head and took a deep breath. “Listen. We—we wanted to make sure that we have a chance to get free from the bond.”
            That made Greg put the bread aside. “No one gets free from a bond,” he pointed out. “Not you. Not me. Not old Lords. If Potter’s our Lord, he’s our Lord for life.” He thought about that, and wondered if he would like it. Maybe not with Potter. But his mum had talked a lot about the old days and the way that families like the Goyles, who had some money but not a lot, were protected by people who had them as their vassals. The whole family could be protected, as long as they swore allegiance. Greg thought he would like to have someone to take care of him. If the Ministry had arrested them, then maybe that meant he wouldn’t see his parents for a long time, so they couldn’t do it.
            “But we have a chance.” Zabini spoke quickly and softly. Greg blinked at him and wondered if he thought the soft tone made him sound intelligent. It didn’t. “This bond is new, and accidental, and Potter’s so little.”
            “He’s about your size,” Greg said, not understanding what Zabini was on about. Potter used to be little, but he’d shot up a bit during sixth year. He would never be Greg’s size, or Weasley’s, but he was closer to Draco’s.
            “I mean, he’s little in his soul.” Zabini was pressing forwards. “Petty. He doesn’t know how to control Slytherins like us.”
            “I’m not the same as you.” Greg thought he’d better point that out before Zabini did.
            Zabini put his hand over his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, “Merlin give me patience.” Greg thought of telling him that didn’t work, because his mum often said the same thing and she never had any, but his stomach still felt empty. He dipped his hand into the loaf and scooped out some more bread.
            Zabini finally dropped his hand away from his eyes and leaned forwards, saying precisely, “I know you’re not the same as me. But the point is, you could help me and Draco win free of this bond. Potter doesn’t have the strength to control us. He’s dead tired right now after only performing a few magical deeds. You could help me and Draco get free. Draco’s your friend, right?” he added, as if he had the right not to know that, when he’d only lived with Greg and Draco for seven years.
            Greg looked at him. Something was wrong. Zabini had never cared about him. He had no reason to come and get Greg to help him if he had Draco, too. Draco was smart, and he could plan things, and if he came and told Greg to help Zabini, then Greg would do that.
            Something was really wrong for Zabini to be over here talking to him.
            “Who else is in the bond?” Greg asked. Zabini hadn’t said there were more people, but it made sense that there were more.
            Zabini frowned a little. “Well, Pansy.”
            Greg shrugged. Pansy had sometimes been kind to him and sometimes mean, mainly when she wanted something from Draco. She didn’t matter one way or another, except that Greg would rather not hurt her because sometimes she was kind. But if Draco said to hurt her, he would.
            “And Professor Snape.” Zabini spoke as though he didn’t think that should bother Greg, watching him from the corner of his eye. He jumped when Greg stood up and put the loaf of bread on the table.
            “No,” Greg said loudly.
            “Listen, Goyle—”
            “You’re crazy,” Greg told him. He could feel cold sweat on the back of his neck. Professor Snape was strong. Greg knew it didn’t matter how hard he could punch someone when it came to Professor Snape. He had some kind of spell that would always make it so you were the one who got hurt. “You’re crazy and you’re stupid. I’m not helping you.”
            “Why would it be so good to be under a bond for the rest of our lives?” Zabini paced back and forth in front of the table the way Greg’s dad had when he first heard the rumors of the Dark Lord’s return. Zabini’s eyes were fixed on Greg, though, while Greg’s dad’s eyes had been fixed on the Dark Mark on his arm. “Everyone acts like it’s some great thing, or some understandable thing. Well, it’s never going to be understandable for me. Never.”
            Greg frowned at him. He didn’t know much about Zabini, because Zabini didn’t stay around him, and he had never thought of what Zabini would be like under a bond. Greg could understand why it would bother Draco. Malfoys led all the time, and took care of other people. It would take Draco a lot of time to get used to someone leading him, instead.
            “Why?” Greg asked. “What’s so horrible about it?”
            Zabini paused and turned around to stare at him. “Surely even you should be able to figure that out,” he said.
            Greg folded his arms. Draco had told him once that Zabini was a master of insults, and Greg had believed him because he had no particular reason to disbelieve Draco about anything. But this didn’t seem like mastering insults to Greg. “I know I’m not as smart as you. I’ve always known that. But even I know that being under a Lordship bond means that the Lord takes care of you.”
            “Potter tried to kill me. I almost died.”
            Greg furrowed his forehead. That would make a difference. “What did you do?” That was one thing he knew. Lords didn’t attack their vassals unless they did something, because the bond would make them suffer if they did. And no one liked pain.
            Zabini made a little hiss out of the corner of his mouth like the kitten that Greg had had for a while, until his dad decided it was too much. “Nothing.”
            “You’re lying,” Greg said.
            “You don’t know that.”
            Greg shrugged. It just made sense. And if Zabini wouldn’t tell him what he was lying about, then maybe Draco would.
            Or Potter. That was a new thought to Greg. If he had a Lord, that meant he had someone to take care of him, the way his parents had discussed. Potter would help him and shelter him and tell him what to do. That sounded wonderful, really.
            “Fine,” Zabini said, his voice a low hiss. “I ran away to the Forest, because I thought there might be centaurs there who could treat the bond mark as a skin infection and destroy it. They refused to intervene, though, and Potter came after me. I tried to kill him, and the bond punished me.”
            Greg spent a long time staring at him. He knew Zabini wasn’t stupid; he’d had it hammered into his head often enough over the course of this conversation. That meant he ought to be able to understand what it was about him that was making Greg stare.
            Zabini obviously didn’t, though, because his fingers started dancing a nervous little beat on the table. “What?” he asked at last.
            “No wonder you want to be away from him,” Greg said. “And no wonder that he doesn’t like you. And no wonder that he doesn’t trust you.”
            “So you’ll help me?” Zabini leaned forwards on the balls of his feet. “Because you can understand why I want to get away from him.”
            “No,” Greg said. “He didn’t punish you. The bond punished you. You got what you deserve. Because the bond doesn’t judge you like a person would do.”
            “Who told you that?” Zabini said, in the voice of someone who wanted to push Greg off a cliff. Greg had heard lots of that this past year, from other Death Eaters and other students.
            “My mum.”
            “Then your mum—” Zabini paused and eyed Greg’s fists. Greg looked down and saw that he was cracking his knuckles. He did that when someone insulted his family. But he wouldn’t beat Zabini up unless Zabini kept saying it, for some reason. And he didn’t look stupid to Greg no matter what he said.
            “Fine,” Zabini said, his voice tight and full of controlled rage, something else Greg was familiar with from Mr. Malfoy. “Then I’ll do it by myself.” He flounced out of the room. Greg smiled. He had only ever seen one of his uncles flounce like that, when his aunt said that his uncle couldn’t have a new suit of clothes.
            But then his smile faded, and Greg sat there for a while in thought.
            It seemed that Professor Snape was part of the bond, and if Zabini didn’t want to go and talk to him, Greg worked out slowly, that meant he must be on the opposite side from Zabini, and want to remain bonded to Potter. Maybe he even liked the thought of having a Lord who wouldn’t treat him like shit, like Greg did.
            So Greg had to go and tell him about Zabini. It was that simple.
*
            Severus woke to a knock on his door. Of course it would be a knock, he thought, as he stood and reached for his conquered wand. He had just been relaxed, drifting off to sleep, so therefore it must be a knock.
            It was more pleasant than his last waking before that, the one that had involved hooded wizards crowding into his cell and casting the Calming Charm upon him, but that was all one could say for it.
            Though, Severus had to admit, he did enjoy the way his own eyes widened when he opened the door and saw Gregory Goyle standing in the corridor. It was good to know that some things could still surprise him.
            “Mr. Goyle,” Severus said, the way he would have if they were still in school. He doubted that Gregory would enjoy changing the relationship they had always had at Hogwarts, where Severus called him by his last name and affected not to notice his incredible lack of skill in Potions. “To what do I owe the honor?”
            “I woke up,” Gregory said, staring up at him with that stolid face that Severus suspected spoke of troll blood a few generations back. If there was anyone who could stand the smell of the things, it would be a Goyle. “And I didn’t know where I was, but while I was getting some food, Zabini showed up and told me we were bonded to Potter and then he tried to get me to rebel with him and he said that you were on the other side with Potter. So I decided to be on the side that you were on.”
            It took Severus a moment to work that out, but when he did, he felt his face tighten. For once, Gregory didn’t flinch when Severus gave him a dark look, only stood there watching him. As he had a perfect right to do, Severus had to admit. Whether he could not understand the significance of the look or only knew that it was not directed at him, Severus was grateful. He did not wish to frighten the boy away from applying to him for help.
            “Thank you for reporting this information to me, Mr. Goyle,” Severus said, when he thought he had his voice under control and wouldn’t curse the thoughtless boy who had to make his life harder. “I assure you that it will be taken care of.”
            “You’re not on his side, sir,” Gregory went on, staring intently at Severus. It was the most attention Severus had ever seen him pay to anything, including to food, and that made it slightly unnerving. Severus found himself wondering if Draco had perhaps left some of his intelligence left behind when he cut through the wall of Gregory’s memories. “Are you? You seem to be liking the bond.”
            “I can survive with it,” Severus said coolly. Of course Gregory would think of the world in such simple terms, that one stood either with Zabini or against him. “That is very different than being happy it is there.”
            Gregory shook his head, giving Severus a stare of uncertain wonder. “But why would you not want it there? It means someone has to take care of you. Someone has to pay the price if you fall. But not you. You can do what you like, and if you’re wrong, someone will tell you. You have a leader.”
            Severus tightened his hands on his wand, and then reminded himself again that it was hardly the boy’s fault he saw the world in so simple a perspective, and Severus could be gracious. “I would prefer to make my own decisions, as you put it, Mr. Goyle,” he said. “I would rather not have a Lord.”
            “Huh.” Gregory went on staring at him for a little while, then looked around. “Can I go and sleep in any of these bedrooms?”
            “Any that do not have someone in them,” Severus said, still fighting down his emotions. “Avoid the locked doors and the one with wards. That is Mr. Potter’s room.”
            “I figured,” Gregory said, turning away. “And you ought to call him Lord Potter, y’know.”
            Severus shut the door and shut his eyes, leaning his forehead briefly against the wood of it. It was simple, and infuriating, how one not particularly intelligent child had utterly undermined what he was thinking and cast him back into doubts.
            As well as waking him up.
            Severus turned and stalked back to bed, determined to rest his body once more if he could not rest his mind. Gregory would think of the bond as he needed to think of it, to survive. Severus would think of it his way.
            But in the morning, we will have a talk with Mr. Zabini, whose motives are not looking conducive to survival.
*
            delia cerrano: Since Draco hasn’t actually seen Lucius, he assumes the worst. And he’s starting to think that Harry doesn’t want to get rid of the Lordship bond, now that he shows signs of living with it.
            Genuka: I think you’re right. A few more challenges, and Harry would simply have collapsed.
            polka dot: A fanatic. Which she is.
            SP777: Let’s hope Greg will join her.
            dragonLuv3: Either way, Snape now knows.
            moodysavage: Thanks! Pansy is a much more interesting character than I had thought she would be by this point in the story; glad you like her. And I think Blaise is at least understandable, even if the way he goes about it isn’t the best.
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The Only True Lords