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Ashborn	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 36151 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven--Blackmail and Silver Dragons

            Draco slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes, drawing in so much air that he made a disgusting whistling sound. He grimaced and forced himself to count to twenty before he breathed again. Yes, then he sucked in a bunch of air again and still made a disgusting sound, but it was briefer than before.

            Something cool brushed against the back of his knees. Draco started before he remembered the cat. He reached down and scratched its back. The cat arched against his fingers, purring, and then glared at the dragon floating in the air before him, surrounded by a thin shell of blue light. The dragon, about half the size of the cat, scraped its claws rhythmically against the light, trying to get out and attack Draco.

            Or, more likely, Draco knew, given the spells he had wound so carefully into the beast, to find the master of its soul. Its eyes resembled Harry's, and had grown brighter and greener as Draco cast the spells. Its tail shimmered with spikes, and each spike was tipped with a memory of a time Draco had seen Harry in battle, to make them sharper. Its claws bore the curves that Harry’s hands did when he was clenching his fingers to keep from hitting someone. It turned its flexible neck, and its mouth had the same smile, or, in this case, the same angry frown.

            "In just a moment," Draco assured the dragon, and then turned to face the cat. "Make sure no one is in the corridor."

            The animal brushed its tail against his fingers, and then turned and flowed out of the room. Draco took a few more minutes to recover his breath and watch the dragon. It had settled down within the shell, curled up like an unhatched bird, but the minute Draco moved, it lifted its head and fixed him with those bright eyes again.

            "We have to prepare him for you first, or he's likely to try and destroy you when you show up," Draco told the dragon. It seemed to understand him, although technically the only human voice it should know was Harry's. Or perhaps it liked his tone. It settled back on its haunches and flicked its tail around itself again.

            Draco tossed a handful of Floo powder into his fire and said clearly, "The Burrow." He would probably get someone else, given the number of people in the bloody house, but at least someone would probably fetch Harry for him. They certainly wouldn't want to talk to Draco long.

            The She-Weasel's face appeared after the Floo had flickered for a minute or more in green and blue. Draco couldn't help but smirk at her mussed hair and pulled-aside shirt.

            Then he remembered who the most likely candidate was to make things like that happen, and felt his gut freeze and boil at once. If Harry is touching her, then it's all the better the dragon is going to him. It can't leave him alone at all for the first few days if it's to learn his commands and routine. Draco found himself giving a slow smile. Isn't that just too bad.

            "Malfoy?" Weasley sounded blank, as though he was the last person she would have expected to be calling. That made Draco wonder how much Harry had told his adopted family about his new relationships with Draco and Severus. Draco drew himself up and nodded, then gestured so that the dragon floated up beside him, although not close enough to be visible to the She-Weasel. He thought Harry should be the first one to see his gift, as well as the first one outside Draco to be acquainted with it.

            "Yes. Will you fetch Harry, please? I have an early birthday gift for him, and I want to warn him it's coming."

            Weasley folded her arms, and then seemed to notice how that made her shirt fall down and took a moment to attend to that. Draco didn't clear his throat and didn't let his lips twitch in a smirk, but Weasley flushed as if he had before she turned to face the fire again. "I don't know if I should do that. The sort of gift you have to warn someone you're sending is likely to be dangerous."

            "Or fragile," Draco said. In fact, the dragon fit more into the category she'd mentioned than the one he did, but it would only be dangerous if Harry commanded it to be, or if someone attacked him. "Look, Weasley, you don't want to talk to me any more than I want to talk to you. Will you get Harry? Please," he added, when she showed no signs of moving.

            "I don't know if I trust you to be good for him," Weasley whispered. "Some of the things he's told me are good, like the way that you had him talk about his past and relax, and some of the others don't make sense. Why did he find something in you that he couldn't find in me?"

            Draco wanted to say, ached to say, that she had never been as good for Harry as she thought she was, but he swallowed back the words and produced a smile to cover the way he ground his teeth. "I don't know," he said. "Why did I find something in Severus that I couldn't in anyone else? Why is Harry attracted to both of us, and how can we find a way to include him with both of us, instead of just one?"

            "That was more than I really needed to know," Weasley said flatly, her face turning green.

            Draco shrugged and leaned a shoulder on the mantle, making sure that he was still blocking the sight of the blue shell surrounding the dragon. "You asked."

            Weasley sighed and made a face. "Yeah, I did." She eyed Draco for a moment, then said, "All right. I'll go get him. But that doesn't mean he'll agree to you coming over or whatever it is that you want to do."

            Draco also ached to correct her grammar and uncouth language, but he contented himself with a nod. From the way Weasley scowled before her face vanished from the fire, it annoyed her more than rudeness would have anyway, because it didn't give her anything to retaliate against.

            Left alone, Draco had time to lick his lips and ponder the dragon, still sitting up within the shell and staring over his shoulder, or trying to, towards the fire. It knew the fire was a gateway to its master. Draco wondered, now, if it was true that Harry would like a dragon. Perhaps he wouldn't want a pet that would never leave him alone and would protect him when it saw him in danger, or wouldn't want one at all. Perhaps Draco should have asked...

            But it was done now, the dragon was made, and Draco would have to send it on its way and believe that Harry would accept the gift in the spirit it was given. He was generous enough, after all, to probably do that no matter how he felt.

            Harry's face appeared in the fireplace, and the dragon went mad, scratching and scrambling around in its shell. The spells Draco had used muffled the sound, at least. Beyond casting a slightly puzzled look in its direction, Harry focused on Draco. "Hullo, Draco. Ginny said you had a birthday gift for me?"

            His face had a slight flush that restored Draco's confidence. He smiled, and Harry smiled back. "Yes," he said. "You know that Severus made an automaton for me that follows me around and obeys my commands?"

            Harry held up a hand. "I don't know that I'd want an automaton like the ones that he has. No offense, but--"

            Draco laughed, and this was easier than he had thought it would be, at least once he let go of the conviction that he would fall flat on his face because Harry had never asked for a gift like this. "Nothing like that! This one isn't really made of metal, even. I called it into being with a spell. It's real, you can touch it, but it's bound to you, and only you, and it wouldn't obey me or Severus unless you told it to."

            "You made it?"

            Draco prepared to bristle against the implication that he couldn't do complex magic, but in the end, he didn't think Harry was implying that. Harry was staring at him with an expression of revelation instead, and he reached out one hand before he seemed to remember that they couldn't touch unless one of them came through the Floo. He pulled it back and said, "Yes. I want it. What is it?"

            Draco smiled. "It can't travel by Floo. The magic might undo the spells I used to make it. It'll have to fly to you." He knew he didn't imagine the way Harry's eyes brightened, which meant that Draco had been right and yes, he did like the idea of a pet that flew. "Can you make sure that you're outside or in a room where no one else is? It'll probably go right through any obstacles in its way."

            Harry nodded, looking entranced. "What is it?"

            Draco smiled more broadly. "A dragon."

            Harry grinned. "And probably not just because that's what your name means, right?"

            Draco flushed. He hadn't considered that Harry might interpret his gift that way and think of Draco as conceited because he had wanted to give Harry a dragon. He started to open his mouth, but Harry, his smile changed, held up a hand and shook his head. "No need. I can see it wasn't." He paused, his lips moving as if reading a book page to himself, then nodded. "And you're quite--handsome when you're flustered and earnest."

            Draco could play this game. He leaned forwards in response and murmured, "I see that you've been thinking quite a bit about that kiss since we shared it, Harry."

            That made Harry splutter in turn and open his mouth to try denial, but Draco stepped back and flicked a languid finger. "Never mind, Harry. I'm sending your gift now. As I said, try to make sure that you're outside or in a room with open windows and no one else."

            "I'm going outside right now," Harry said, his voice breathless. Draco hoped he could discern a slight stiffness in the way he walked as Harry pulled back from the fireplace, but that was probably wishful thinking.

            It wasn't wishful thinking, though, that Harry popped his head back into the flames before he closed the connection and said, "Thank you, Draco. Really." His eyes had a deep color to them that Draco knew didn't come just from the Floo.

            Draco managed a nod, and then Harry jerked back and the connection closed. He thought he could hear the brief thumps of eager footsteps before it did.

            Draco turned back to the shell of blue light and found the dragon waiting for him, back humped up as if he was a scorpion. Draco snorted as he reached up and stroked his wand along the edge of the shell. "Of course, you'll get all bristly like that because I won't let you go, but you wouldn't have existed without me, remember that."

            There was no sign that the dragon did remember it, but then, it had had a glimpse of its master now, and Draco knew it wouldn't stay for any reason. The shell broke, and Draco ducked as the dragon swirled over him, its wings causing a downbeat of diamond-like light before it was gone, through the open door and down the corridor that the cat had assured him was clear of Ashborn.

            The cat automaton stalked back into the room, pawed at Draco until he sat down on the bed, and climbed into his lap. It was much larger, more awkward, and colder than a real feline would be, but it still wound its tail around itself, kneaded his leg with its paws, and attempted a rumbling purr.

            Draco blinked at it as he scratched at the furless head. Had Severus really given it an impulse to jealousy like this? Or was the spirit that he had filled the metallic frame with more powerful than he knew, more prone to attempt some kind of life?

            Then he put such thoughts aside, because he was picturing the expression on Weasley's face and Granger's when Harry walked in with a dragon perched on his shoulder. He didn't have to picture Harry's expression. He had already seen it, and was more than satisfied, although a soft ache pulsed in him that wouldn't stop until Harry returned to the fortress.

            Let it be soon. How fast can a month pass?

*

            The dragon came down like a silver comet towards Harry where he stood in the long grass outside the Burrow, watching the sky.

            He raised his arm instinctively, for the dragon to land on, although he doubted it would be enough considering the animal's speed. But the dragon backwinged above him and landed on his arm as delicately as a heavy butterfly. Then it lowered its head towards him and crooned. It was an unexpectedly smooth dragon, Harry thought. He remembered the Hungarian Horntail he'd fought as being all lumps and bumps. Then again, this dragon didn't have a ruff or spiky chin beard the way some of them did, and its horns were short and swept backwards along its spine.

            Then he caught sight of its eyes, and stared. He had only ever seen that color in the mirror or photographs of his mum.

            I wonder how he knew to get the color exactly right?

            The natural conclusion to his thoughts made Harry flush, and he lowered his arm so that the dragon was in front of him instead of above him. It braced its forelegs on his shoulders and crooned into his face. Harry expected to have to flinch from its breath, but really, it had a tinge of sweetness that was--sort of pleasant. Perhaps a little smoky, which added a whole new worry to Harry's pile. Draco hadn't made the bloody thing able to breathe real fire, had he?

            The bloody thing under consideration wrapped itself around Harry's shoulders like a cloak, purring all the while. Its tail, ending in a single perfect diamond shape, draped down his back in the moments before the dragon coiled it up and brought it to hang down his chest instead. Harry felt the warmth blazing through the bright, silver-tissue skin, and had to laugh helplessly as he stroked the dragon's neck. Yes, Draco had made it able to breathe fire, which was really the perfect representation of their relationship when Harry thought about it: what would it be without that touch of danger?

            "Harry! What is that thing? Don't move!"

            And there was Ron, returning at exactly the wrong time from his second visit to Hogwarts with Hermione. Harry sighed and turned around. The dragon had stopped crooning and started growling, though the sound was so low Harry only knew it existed because of the way the dragon was draped around him.

            "It's all right," Harry called, watching the way Ron's wand wavered. He relaxed. His best friend would still trust him, then, in spite of everything weird happening between them lately. That was good to know. "This is a gift from Draco. He made it from magic and some really complicated spells, I think." He touched the dragon on the head, and it stopped growling and turned its chin in the right direction, because Harry wanted it to. "Look, it has my eyes."

            Ron stopped, blinking. Hermione was the one who squealed and ran towards the dragon, her hand stretched out. The dragon started to rear up, spreading its wings, but Harry touched its chin again, and it calmed down and let Hermione stroke the way its spine arched along its back, practically visible as a serious of diamond-like humps above the silver scales, although it never stopped growling.

            Yes, you did give me a protector, and a friend and a companion and a jealous pet, Harry thought at Draco, giving a mental roll of his eyes. I'm sure that you knew it would respond like this to my friends, too.

            "Come touch it, Ron!" Hermione let one finger skim along the side of the dragon's jaw, close to the fangs that shone like ivory. The dragon wanted to move and snap her finger off, but Harry tapped it on the nose and it kept its mouth closed. Hermione gave him a curious glance, but didn't show any other sign that she knew how close she'd come to getting something bitten. "It doesn't feel like scales at all right here, it just feels like smooth silver skin!"

            That made Harry look at the dragon in some concern, wondering if someone could hurt it if they hit the corner of the jaw. The dragon turned its head in silent answer, and Harry saw the way the skin shimmered like a mirror, how close the shine was to the shine of the Shield Charm. He calmed down. No, he didn't think the dragon could be hurt, unless someone was really lucky or used an extremely powerful spell.

            "What are you going to name it, Harry?" Hermione continued breathlessly. Ron had approached, but was looking without enthusiasm at the dragon's claws. They bent like grass blades where they gripped Harry's shoulder, but he was sure that they could grow hard against an enemy. "Do you think I could learn the spells to make one for myself? It's beautiful."

            "I think someone else has to make it for you, unless you know yourself really well," Harry said slowly, answering the easier question first. "And--" He stared at the dragon, whose wings went up in answer, the sky and the grass and the trees flashing in shining reflections across them.

            Harry looked at its skin again, and smiled.

            "Shield," he said.

*

            Severus listened with half an ear to the conversation between Incognita and Draco, concerning the reconciliation of the werewolves and the centaurs and what either side could bring to the conversation. It was not yet his fight, though it might become so in the future. If Draco invited werewolves to the fortress, then Severus would find out why and whether it was wise to allow them in.

            But in the meantime, he was thinking about something else, something that made him pick even at his meal.

            Today was the day that the Ministry ball with Harry as the guest of honor was supposed to happen. Severus had worked out the exact wording of the letter Harry should send them in return, and would not have worried, except--

            He turned his head and stared at the parchment resting next to his elbow.

            Except for the cryptic owl he had received from Harry an hour ago, saying only, Ministry not responsive. Going.

            Severus shook his head, frowning, and then instinctively stopped himself, though another glance at Incognita and Draco showed they were too deeply involved in their own discussion to look around. Would Harry not have firecalled him rather than owled him if something about their plan turned out not to work?

            Then Severus remembered he had been in his lab all afternoon and evening, working on a complicated potion to attack existing variations of influenza, with the Floo shut down because even a minor interruption would ruin hours of work. He grimaced and wondered why the thought of Harry trying frantically to contact him and not succeeding made his chest go cold and still.

            He can handle himself. If the Ministry tried to imprison him, you know his friends would break through the gates of Hell itself to find him. And the Ministry knows about the Unbreakable Vows. They know they would have the Ashborn on their throats if they prevented him from returning to us.



            Then Severus had a thought that made him curl his fingers around the bottom of his glass and fight back a snarl.

            Unbreakable Vows remained an uncommon kind of oath, the plethora of important ones in recent history notwithstanding, because they did not take circumstances into account. If someone failed to keep his promise made by such a Vow, the Vow would kill him, whether he had failed due to his own will or because of incompetence or because someone who didn't know about the Vow had stood in his way.

            The Ministry knew about the Vows, yes. They might also know that imprisoning Harry and keeping him from reaching the Ashborn by the time the month ended would kill Harry and rid them of a problem. They might even claim that they were doing it simply out of concern for Harry's welfare, because he couldn't be happy as a guest of the Ashborn.

            Severus touched the thought in his mind and turned it over, freezing it and making himself consider it from a distance, the way he would have the idea for a potion he had become too attached to. Yes, this might be a trap. But he should remember other things, such as that Harry would not go to the ball unaccompanied. If his friends did not come with him, Draco's dragon would. Harry had contacted Draco by firecall yesterday to gush rapturously over the beast, which rode Harry's shoulder and would not be parted from him.

            With that realization loosening his throat, Severus returned to his meal. The meat tonight was a particularly fragrant duck, softened by soaking in a sauce that Severus did not recognize off the top of his head. He was glad he had chosen to employ house-elves, and not Ashborn, in the kitchen. They could make dishes Severus was not personally familiar with while at the same time exciting no fear of poisoning in him.

            "Severus!"

            That voice still brought him to his feet and his hand to his wand despite the Mark on his arm that proclaimed the entire death of the Dark Lord. Incognita also had her wand drawn and had moved to cover Draco, he noted. Good. She knew what was good for her and would shield Draco against most enemies. He once again swallowed to loosen his throat and scanned for the threat.

            He saw it, and took off running towards it. Not a threat, but the thing that should have triggered the wards and did not. Of course, why would it, when one of them had been made by Draco and one had had access to the private quarters of the Ashborn's lord?

            Harry staggered along, coughing, supported more by the dragon gripping his shoulders and beating its wings furiously than by his own legs. His left hand, and the left side of his face, and the rest of the left side of his body, was burned, red and black. He took in a gasping, heaving breath, and the tiny cold slice of Severus's mind that had frozen his concern earlier diagnosed smoke inhalation. The dragon stuck its head around and crooned at Severus, then growled when Harry tried to pull away from it.

            "Harry! What happened? Did he burn you?" Draco was there already, his arms around Harry's waist. Harry shook his head and leaned against Draco for a moment, but then tried to pull away and stand. Draco, who evidently hadn't seen the headshake, continued with the obsessive mutters that Severus knew indicated a downwards spiral had begun in his mood and thoughts. "I never would have made the dragon if I thought it would burn you--I'm sorry--"

            "Draco," Severus said as he continued past him, rapping his knuckles lightly on Draco's shoulder to get his attention. "The dragon didn't burn Harry. He couldn't, not if you made him properly. His fire would be harmless to Mr. Potter. No, Harry had an appointment at the Ministry tonight that he evidently kept." He locked his eyes on Harry's and waited for a response.

            "Right," Harry said, with a faint smile. "They tried a firetrap. A literal one," he added, and laughed, as though joking with someone he could not see. Severus hoped it was that, at least, and not a joke that he was supposed to understand. "Shield started beating his wings and screaming the moment I stepped into the Ministry, and I understood that someone was probably aiming at me. But, fool that I am, I didn't take the danger literally. I just tried to calm him down and get to the center of the room, where they told me the Minister was standing to award me an Order of Merlin."

            Severus nodded in response, but he was already bending down and examining the burns on Harry's hand, and manipulating the fingers back and forth. Harry's wince was enough to convince him to back off, but also to meet Draco's eyes and mouth, "Burn salve, my lab, now." Draco took off at a run, without even a protest about not getting to hear the end of the story. Severus was sure that he would have it out of Harry later, at any rate.

            "They--they had a few Aurors with fire spells on their wands waiting there instead." Harry coughed, and Severus cast a few spells that would soothe his lungs before pulling out a pain potion from the corner of his sleeve. Harry grimaced, perhaps because of the taste or because of Incognita's wondering, watching eyes, but accepted it and drank it. He swayed on his feet when it was done, and Shield crooned and beat his wings in response, hauling him back upright again. Severus offered his own arm as support, silently cursing himself for not doing it before. Harry nodded gratefully, and leaned against him. "They stood in a circle around me, so it was harder to escape. But Shield deflected one of the spells, and I raised a Shield Charm around me, too." The dragon nudged Harry hard with its sleek silver nose and concentrated on beating its wings to hold him up.

            "One of your Shield Charms, and yet some of the fire got through?" Severus asked, in his driest voice, to hold Harry's attention away from the bright symbols provided by his wordless diagnostic spell. They worried him. Harry had swallowed far more smoke than seemed reasonable based on his story, and he was burned more badly than it would seem to warrant, too.

            Harry's eyelids flickered. Severus leaned down until he was at his eye level and waited for Harry to figure out that lying would make no sense.

            Harry swallowed, which made him cough, although less strongly than before, and said, "Ron and Hermione were with me, too. I concentrated on protecting them first, and I didn't renew the Shield Charm in time. And then--um, Shield was trying to burn the people who were attacking me. I didn't want him to hurt them. I had to restrain him, and they cooked me."

            Severus held back a shout with difficulty. He sent up a vague prayer of thanks, for the first time, that Harry Potter had Sorted Gryffindor; he would have gone mad if he had had to deal with being the boy's Head of House. "That is what the dragon is for," he said. "To hurt the ones who hurt you."

            Harry's jaw thrust out. "No, he's to protect me. That's different."

            Draco, coming back just at that moment, shook his head when Severus opened his mouth. Severus did not entirely wish to shut up, as Draco seemed to be suggesting, but he stepped back and half-bowed his head so that Draco could talk to Harry and put salve on the burns. Shield examined him suspiciously for a moment, then pulled back his head and tail so that Draco could reach the worst of the burns mottling the left side of Harry’s face and neck.

            To a Gryffindor, perhaps defense is always different than offense, Severus decided grudgingly. He said, with the patience that dealing with incompetent Potions students had taught him, “And then what happened?”

            “We did manage to fight our way out of there, once Ron and Hermione got over the shock,” Harry said. He coughed again, and Severus cast another spell to ease his breathing. Harry sighed and tried to stand upright, away from Draco’s supporting arms. Draco only pulled him back down as if it were coincidence and he needed to reach a spot on the back of Harry’s hand. Harry accepted it with an ease that told Severus more than anything how weary he was. “And they wanted to take me to St. Mungo’s, but Shield hissed and snapped even at them, and I didn’t—still don’t—want anyone from the wizarding world fussing over me and lying to the Ministry for me. So I came here.”

            “Because Shield trusts us,” Draco said, and stroked the dragon’s tail where it coiled around Harry’s neck. Shield responded with a single, anxious croon, and bent his neck down so he could study what Draco was doing from closer to.

            “Right, of course,” Harry said, turning his head at the same time. “That was the main reason.”

            He met Draco’s eyes, and for a moment Severus thought he would smile, the best complement to his apparently joking tone. But his wide green eyes stayed fixed on Draco’s, and widened. Draco stared back, still unsmiling, and then reached up and dabbed a bit of the salve on just under Harry’s eye, with such a gentle touch that there was no reason for Harry to flinch a little and suck in a small breath. Draco laid his fingers flat once the burn was covered, letting them hover there above the skin.

            “So,” Severus said, because watching Harry and Draco share a private moment was no easier for him than watching their Vows without participating probably had been for Draco. “You realize the value of what happened to you?”

            “If you mean it taught me I still have enemies in the Ministry,” Harry said, turning his head away from Draco slowly, “then yes. But then, I really knew that already.”

            “It will give you more material for blackmail,” Severus said, vaguely surprised that Harry had not seen this earlier. But perhaps he is still so Gryffindor in so many other ways that I should not be surprised. “They attacked you in the middle of a ball. There are witnesses.”

            “The only witnesses that I would trust to back me up are my friends,” Harry said bitterly. “The Aurors will support each other. Most of the other people there are probably either Ministry flunkies or could legitimately claim they couldn’t see what was going on and I might have attacked first. And you could say things.” His hand took Severus’s wrist in a grip that was almost painful. “But they won’t listen to anything you say, either.”

            Severus took his wrist in return, stroking carefully up and down to avoid the faint burns he could see even there, and shook his head. “Blackmail need not always be true, and we can move faster than they can. Send your story to the papers now, Harry.”

            Harry blinked. “If we tell everyone, it’s not blackmail material anymore, is it?”

            “We tell them a modified version of the story,” Draco said, and looked up, and smiled at both of them. Severus felt a bit of the tight jealousy coiled in his stomach unwind, seeing that smile. “We keep the real, worse version in reserve, and send them an owl explaining that. If they back down and apologize, or make a deal with us to stop trying to control your life, then you’ll get what you want without having to risk another confrontation.”

            “So, lying,” Harry said. Severus could read nothing from the tone of his voice.

            “Of course,” Draco said, shrugging.

            “I don’t like to lie,” Harry said. “It makes it too easy for your enemies to trip you up with the truth.”

            “The Ministry will not risk the truth in this case,” Severus said smoothly, trying not to let his pride in Harry seeing sense like that—having a sensible reason to care about the truth, rather—influence his words. “It makes them look worse. They will try a lie of their own, perhaps that you attacked them instead, or that they feared you had gone mad and wanted to take you down for your own good. We must use both our speed and the power of your name.”

            Harry made a disgusted noise. “Politics.”

            Draco nodded. “Of course. And as long as you live, you’ll play those games. Ordinary people don’t have to, maybe, but we have a shortage of ordinary people who kill Dark Lords and then sacrifice themselves to save the world.”

            “Part of the world,” Harry muttered, but he hesitated. Then he said, “You really think—will you help me explain this to Ron and Hermione? That will be the hardest part, explaining why I left them tonight and why I’m lying.”

            Draco met Severus’s eyes, and said nothing. He did not have to. The thought burning in both their minds was the same. He chose us. He came to us, without them. That is worth everything.

            Of course, one of the stupidest things they could do at the moment would be to demonstrate that they were thinking like that, with Harry trying to think of how to apologize to his friends. They would not banish the other Gryffindors from his life, Severus knew, and for the source of contentment and support they could occasionally be to Harry, he did not wish to. But Harry no longer belonged solely with them, either.

            “Yes, we can explain that,” Severus said smoothly. “They shall have the spell theory behind Draco’s creation of the dragon, if they wish, and that may help indicate how loyal he is to you.” He lifted one eyebrow at Draco, who took over with soothing chatter about how Shield would know and trust Harry’s friends eventually, but not while he was in the middle of a dangerous situation. Severus examined Harry’s burns, and nodded when he found the salve had already begun to make them less vivid. Harry would survive this, and yet still make an impressive picture for the papers.

            Severus turned his mind to the Ministry. He knew too little of their new internal structure and politics to say for certain who would have thought it worth the risk to order this assassination attempt on Harry, but he did know one thing:

            The Ministry would be sorry for this by the time they were done.

*

            unneeded: Thank you. I hope you liked Harry’s reaction to the gift, too.

            AlterEquis: Thanks. I don’t know if I can hope that the weather improves, depending on where you are, but I hope it does anyway.
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