Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Ancient and Noble Houses	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29877 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 20
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- 22
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Chapter Twenty-One—Complicated Forms
            “I don’t know what half this stuff means.”
            Draco had to smile. Potter sounded so lost as he bent over the tangle of parchments on the table that Cushfoot had given them. That was to be expected, Draco thought. Potter had grown up outside the wizarding world, and from what Draco remembered of the first time they’d met in Diagon Alley, Hagrid was the one who had taken him to Gringotts the first time and got him his money and had his key. He would never have faced the legal precautions and language that the goblins used to safeguard vault owners’ interests.
            “Like this.” Potter sat back and stabbed a finger down in the middle of the paper. “What does this mean?”
            “Move your finger, and maybe I can see,” Draco murmured.
            Potter flushed and snatched his hand back. “Sorry.” He looked at his finger as though it was part of the problem. “I never had to deal with something like this before.”
            Draco only nodded again. He thought any words of sympathy he could speak would sound contrived, and he didn’t want to think hard enough to come up with non-contrived ones. He moved the paper towards him instead and skimmed over it.
            “Here,” he said, moving his own finger to the beginning of the sentence. Potter followed his gestures like a dog, which Draco had to admit was pleasing. He liked the fire in Potter’s eyes sometimes, but he also liked being in control, being able to do some things that Potter couldn’t. “When it talks about claim by ‘primacy of blood.’ That applies because, most of the time, someone wouldn’t be able to take money from a vault or transfer it except to someone they’re related to. There have even been cases where wizards wanted to leave money to adopted children, but it went to their blood children instead, because they hadn’t signed the documents in the right way.”
            Potter read the rest of the sentence through, his lips moving, and then scowled at the box at the end of the sentence. “So what answer do I want to give? Yes or no?”
            Draco reread the sentence himself, then nodded. “You want to mark ‘yes.’ You’re going to transfer money to us because of primacy of blood.” He had owled his mother last night about the money that was coming to them. She hadn’t responded yet. Draco was a little afraid of what might happen when she did.
            Potter, far from those concerns, was wrestling in silence—lip-moving silence—with the next sentence. But he growled at Draco when Draco tried to take the parchment away from him, so Draco leaned back with his hands behind his head. He’d let Potter handle this one himself.
            Someone cleared their throat pointedly next to the table, and Draco looked up. The following second, he wished he hadn’t. Hermione Granger stood beside him, her hands on her hips and her eyes so narrow that Draco thought she would go blind.
            “Is this a private party, or can anyone join you?” she asked, with a bit of nicely pointed sarcasm that Draco had to admire.
            “Come on, Hermione,” Potter said, cocking his head to the side as if looking at the parchment upside-down would help. “Maybe you can help us translate some of the things that Gringotts is saying.”
            “Gringotts?” Granger was sensible enough to take the seat next to Potter, instead of the one next to Draco, as Draco had feared for a second she would do. She picked up one of the forms that Potter had already filled out, and scanned it, frowning. “Why did you go back there? You knew they were going to be upset about us breaking out on a dragon.”
            Draco closed his eyes for a second. The more he heard about Potter’s adventures during the war, the less he envied his friends.
            “Yes, but there wasn’t anywhere else I could go.” Potter turned towards Granger. Draco studied his neck for a second. He wondered if it was his imagination that the scar that formed Potter’s 2 had started to waver back straight again, as if it might turn into a 1 with enough persuasion. “Draco suggested that giving some of the Black money to someone else might lessen the house’s hold on me.”
            Granger blinked and chewed her lip. “Yes, that might work,” she said, as if it being Draco’s idea should immediately lessen the likelihood. Draco didn’t roll his eyes, but mostly because she hadn’t looked in his direction and the gesture would be wasted. “But what are all these forms, then?” She waved her hand at them.
            “The house itself said I couldn’t transfer the money,” Harry said. “The goblin who’s in charge of the Black vaults—his name’s Cushfoot—signed this document that let the house speak, and it was going on and on about how it didn’t want any owner other than me. But I pointed out that I’m not living in the house, and I said I could make Draco and Mrs. Malfoy my heirs. Cushfoot didn’t seem convinced, but he gave me these forms to do it.” He stared at the parchments with a miserable expression that Draco was more used to seeing when he whinged about Potions. “But these are hard.”
            “Of course they are,” Granger said. “Goblins don’t like giving up anything or not getting their own way.” She darted a look at Draco this time. Draco raised his eyebrows and turned his head to the side, wondering if he should be glad that he’d finally qualified for a little of her attention, or not. “Have you been helping him get through it?”
            “Some of it,” Draco said. “Some of it he figured out for himself.”
            That got him a much more scathing look from Granger, and she abruptly stood up and leaned over to take Draco’s arm. “Would you excuse us for a second, Harry?” she asked. “Malfoy and I have something to talk about.”
            “Let go of him.”
            Draco started and looked at Potter. That voice, on the other hand, was one he’d only started hearing after he knew that Potter was under the influence of the house. And he was sure that Potter, currently, had a hand on his wand under the table, aiming it at Granger. His eyes were flat but shimmering, and the scar on his throat was definitely back to being a 2.
            “What is wrong with you, Harry?” Granger put her hands on her hips. “You should have refused to give up the money and the vaults to him, if the house is influencing you. What is he important for?”
            There was a moment during which Potter visibly struggled, and then he took his hand off his wand. “He’s fine,” he said. “You can talk to him. Just don’t touch him.” He gave them both a single, fiery glance, and then bowed his head to stare at the parchments again.
            Granger gaped for a second, then tossed her head at Draco and made her way down an aisle of books. Draco hesitated, but Potter nodded at him, fringe falling into his eyes. Draco knew he wouldn’t get either words or one of those tempting fiery glances if he lingered, so he followed Granger.
            She didn’t go far. Draco walked around the corner of the shelves and found her wand aimed straight at him, almost poking into the skin of his stomach.
            “What did you do to him?”
            Draco raised his hands slowly. Perhaps the last week had given him experience in dealing with dangerous enraged people, or perhaps the war and being around the Dark Lord had, because he found himself choosing his words without much difficulty. “I didn’t do anything, Granger. You ought to be able to see that. The house is the thing that’s influencing him. Maybe if he had been more cautious or done something else with his time, he would have realized before now that the house is dangerous.”
            “What should he have done?” Granger put her hands on her hips again. At least that meant her wand went with them.
            “Read more about the house when he realized he inherited it,” Draco replied. That seemed so obvious to him that he wondered why Potter hadn’t done it. Potter had never had a family, but being taken as Black’s heir gave him a sort of claim to one. Why hadn’t he tried to learn everything he could about the Blacks? “Read about the ordeals that houses tend to inflict on their heirs. There must be books out there that talk in more detail about it, ones that you and he haven’t found yet.”
            Granger tossed her head a little again. “I still think you did something to him.” Her wand came up again.
            “I told you, I didn’t—”
            “Hermione.”
            Draco whirled around. That was Potter, his wand out and his eyes gone so dark that Draco really thought they were black and not green, even given the fact that the light between the bookshelves was dim.
            “I told you not to touch him,” Potter whispered, and then he was charging.
*
            moodysavage: The house is very sneaky, and Harry may not be as worried about it as he should be.
            Eros: Harry veers between fighting against what the house is doing to him and accepting it. And Draco finds the thought of someone whom he envied and wanted to be friends with desiring him instead exciting. It’s a chance to reverse the roles and get a little revenge.
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Ancient and Noble Houses