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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.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven—Sword and Shield
            Harry woke warm and comfortable. In fact, he nearly rolled over and went back to sleep. He was in the perfect position, his arms stretched out ahead of him and his legs stretched out towards the foot of the couch he was in. Not even his bed in Gryffindor Tower was always the right size when he wanted to stretch out fully. He was always scraping his fingers on the headboard or his feet on the bottom.
            Then he sighed, and realized that he was already fully awake, if he could be having thoughts like that. He rolled over and stretched, bowing his head and rolling his neck. He heard someone shuffle behind him, but they didn’t say anything right away.
            “What time is it?” Harry asked, glancing over his shoulder.
            Greg stood in the doorway. When he caught Harry’s eye, his mouth melted in a smile, and he came to sit on the couch next to Harry’s and swing his legs. “Almost seven,” he said.
            “Night? Morning?” Harry looked around, but this was a room in the interior of the house, and comfortably dim except for the fire crackling on the hearth. It could be almost any time, and this room wouldn’t register the change either way.
            “Night,” Greg said. “This is the same day that you—you defeated them in the early morning, and this is the night of that morning.” He sounded anxious to get it right, and Harry felt a soft little tingle from the shield mark on his arm, maybe telling him that Greg was upset.
            Harry smiled at him and said, “That’s fine. It tells me just fine.” Greg relaxed, and Harry continued, “Did the Aurors ever come?” He was curious, despite the fact that things were obviously safe and the wards had held. They could make themselves useful by capturing the Freedom Fighters, if not by defending his vassals in more immediate ways.
            No, that is my job.
            “They came.” Greg sounded eager to tell him, and Harry leaned back on the couch and wondered what he would say next. Has everyone managed to function without me? “They said the wards were holding. They brought Draco’s parents. They said people had attacked them in the cells.”
            Harry closed his eyes briefly. On the one hand, seeing his parents might calm Draco down. On the other hand, he doubted Lucius Malfoy would go along with what Harry wanted even as quietly as Draco had been doing in the last day.
            More and more challenges. I didn’t sign up for this.
            Then again, he hadn’t signed up for anything, including the original bond. He’d wanted to protect people, but he wouldn’t have chosen this way. He’d been thinking more in terms of that Shield Charm he cast.
            Harry sighed and opened his eyes. “I’m hungry. Krea—”
            “Let me get it!”
            Harry stared at Greg, who had bounced to his feet. “Are people sleeping?” he asked. It seemed early for it, but it must have taken a lot out of Snape to cast those spells, and maybe Pansy and Blaise had decided that they might as well sleep.
            What about Greg? It suddenly occurred to Harry that Greg might have remained on guard by him all this time. Had he been able to lie down on the other couch and go to sleep, or had he been too worried about who else would attack Harry?
            “Do you want to?” Harry asked, because Greg still stood there with pleading eyes, and Harry doubted he would take being ordered to eat and rest very well right now. “I was just going to call Kreacher, my house-elf. He’s the one who made that food we ate earlier. He can get it for me, no problem.”
            “I want to.”
            Greg’s response was as dark and heavy as any of the threats that Harry had ever heard him utter at Draco’s orders. He sighed and lay back on the couch. Well, fine. He didn’t have the strength to argue.
            “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes. “I shouldn’t eat much—just some toast and soup for right now, if you would.” He could feel his stomach shifting around, and he grimaced. It had done the same thing sometimes when he was a child and had done accidental magic, although he hadn’t known what it was then. It was just the use of a great deal of power, and the only way to get along with it was ignore it and eat small meals until it went away.
            Greg didn’t respond. Harry opened his eyes and found that he was already gone.
*
            Greg trotted to the kitchen, feeling as though he had a rod up his spine that was telling him where to turn and how to stand. As though he had someone to lead him and tell him what to do again, the way Draco had in Hogwarts.
            He had a Lord.
            He got to the kitchen and called the house-elf, and it appeared. It didn’t seem to like him much. It grunted when he talked to it. But when he asked for soup and toast for Lord Harry, the elf nodded and began to work, and Greg knew it wouldn’t be long before there was a plate of lightly buttered toast and steaming tomato soup. He had said tomato soup when the elf asked. He thought he remembered his Lord eating that at Hogwarts once. Draco had said something about it matching Weasley’s hair.
            Greg leaned on the table, and thought.
            It was hard to think about Draco and his Lord at the same time. He had done what Draco ordered, at one time. Now he was doing what his Lord ordered. But his father had obeyed Mr. Malfoy. What would happen if Mr. Malfoy or Draco came down the stairs and ordered him to do something now?
            Greg floated around for a second in his head, and then laughed. The elf didn’t look at him, but Greg felt tempted to looked at himself..
            It was so beautifully simple. He had a Lord now. He would go and ask his Lord if he should do what Draco or Mr. Malfoy asked him.
            Greg smiled. He would have to thank his mum for telling him all those stories about Lords. She had made it clear what she should do in a complicated situation, and she wasn’t even here.
            Maybe they would let him write to his mum once they finished sorting through all the letters. The Aurors. Maybe they would let his mum come and visit him. Greg would like that, and he didn’t think his Lord would object. His mum had never been a Death Eater. His dad had, but his dad might be in prison by now, so he probably couldn’t come visit anyway.
            “This is being for Master Harry,” the elf said in front of him, startling Greg. He looked up and saw the large tray of toast and tomato soup he had asked for. Kreacher let him take it, but he still looked back and forth from Greg to the tray as though he assumed that it was always going to be too heavy for him.
            “Thank you,” said Greg back, not because he was in the habit of saying that to house-elves but because he thought his Lord would like him to be, and then walked out of the room with it.
            He had a place now. That was even better than having a Lord, really, and certainly better than someone just telling him what to do. He had a place that was valued and made sense. Greg might not ever have thought he would be carrying trays and telling his Lord to lie on the couch and let Greg tend to him, but those things went together beautifully.
            I like my life.
*
            Harry sighed and put the tray aside. He’d had to eat slowly, but it had been delicious. He wondered idly how Greg had known he liked tomato soup. Well, maybe it was something the bond had told him. Not worth worrying about, anyway, not compared to the way Greg was leaning forwards from his seat on the other couch and studying him with anxious eyes.
            “What’s the matter?” Harry asked, laying the tray on the floor. Greg twitched as if he would come over and pick it up, but Kreacher appeared before he could. Kreacher glanced at Greg as he vanished, a deep, distrustful look that made Harry want to snicker. He didn’t think Greg had done or said anything awful in the kitchen; rather, Kreacher just didn’t seem to like anyone taking over his position. “Did the Aurors say something to you about your parents when they were here?”
            “No,” said Greg. “I’d like permission to write to them, my Lord.”
            “You have it.” Harry managed to conceal his wince at the mention of the title. He thought he would have to get used to doing that. Greg seemed to need it more than the others. “I don’t know if the Aurors will let an owl deliver the letters, though.”
            “That’s fine,” said Greg. “Writing is what I wanted to do, my Lord.”
            Harry frowned. “Then what’s the matter?”
            Greg stared at his hands for a second, at the floor for longer, and finally looked up and said, “I need—can you please reassure me that you’re not going to get rid of me, my Lord?”
            Harry exhaled slowly. Right. I should have remembered that.
            Luckily, he had made his decision before he started manipulating the bond to reinforce the wards, and that made it easier to sit up now and nod. “I’m not going to get rid of you,” he added, when Greg’s face made it clear that wasn’t enough. “I think I can stretch the bond around some people and keep it on others. Since you want to stay with me, I’ll make sure that you get to.”
            Greg’s face looked so radiantly joyful that Harry shut his mouth on what he wanted to say about urging Greg to have his own personal freedom and independence. I reckon this is close to what he would have had, anyway. Draco might have gone on talking to him and telling him what to do even after they grew up.
            And now there was something else he could ask Greg, anyway. Harry put aside his tray even further, with a push of his foot, and leaned forwards. “Greg, what can you tell me about the Malfoys?”
            He had a moment to wonder if that was the wrong order. Maybe Greg would feel too bad to betray Draco, which Harry was essentially asking him to do, and comment on the manners of Draco’s parents. Maybe Greg didn’t even know Draco’s parents, although Harry thought that was unlikely.
            Greg didn’t protest, though. After a minute of staring into the fire, he turned his head and said, “Mr. Malfoy doesn’t like orders. He wouldn’t be happy that Draco was bonded. But he’s—” Silence, while Greg groped for words and Harry did his best to wait and be patient. Then Greg said, “He sees reality. Sometimes Draco just sees what he wants to. He always thought that you were being mean to him in school when you really weren’t.”
            Harry smiled. “Well, sometimes he was right,” he said, thinking about sixth year. “But do you think Mr. Malfoy would try to get Draco out of the bond?”
            This time, it was Greg’s turn to give him a long, patient look. “No,” he said. “Because he sees what’s there, and the bond is what’s there.”
            Harry nodded. “So you think that he wouldn’t want me to free Draco from it?”
            “If you could,” said Greg. “Maybe. I don’t know him that well.”
            Harry came to his rescue, because Greg could get too unhappy. He was starting to wonder if it was just the bond pushing him to see Greg a new way, or other instincts sharpening. In school, he wouldn’t have noticed or cared if Goyle was unhappy. “But as long as the bond is there, he’ll think that he has to deal with it?”
            Greg nodded, looking so calm and confident that Harry had to blink. He really does bother with someone to tell him what to do. He wondered what Hermione would say about that, and wished he could know. “He knows that he can’t get rid of the bond. Maybe you’ll do it, and maybe you won’t. But he knows that he has to live with it.”
            “Indeed I do, Mr. Potter. I would call you Lord Potter, but I understand that you might not tolerate that from anyone except your vassals.”
            Harry turned around rapidly. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway of the drawing room, bowing to him. Behind him were Narcissa and Draco, Draco looking pale and scolded. Harry had to smile a little, and wish he could have seen that. He still felt sorry for Draco, and he liked him better than he used to, but Draco had been bloody annoying in the last few days.
            “Come in and discuss it, then,” Harry said. He would have asked them to drag in some chairs from the other rooms, but Greg stood up rapidly and came to loom behind Harry’s couch. The Malfoys trooped in and sat down on the couch he’d had, as though this was all perfectly natural. Maybe to them, it was.
            Harry had to admit that he was a little pissed. None of them thanked Greg for giving them a seat. Like he was—
            A house-elf.
            Harry scowled harder. Even if they thought about Greg that way, Harry didn’t intend to let them treat him that way. For now, he’d let it go, because Greg had wanted to do it and it wasn’t a huge thing. But anyone who tried to treat any of his vassals like a servant was going to answer to him.
*
            What’s Potter so pissed about?
            Draco shook his head. He could feel from the slight, warning burn in his shield mark that Potter was angry about something, but at the moment, he had not the slightest idea what.
            His father noticed the headshake, Draco was sure, but he wasn’t privy to enough of Lucius’s plans to know how it might have changed them. Instead, his father bowed his head slightly again and said, “Mr. Potter, what are your intentions regarding us?”
            Draco enjoyed watching Potter blink, despite the little flinch and ripple in his shield mark. That was a new one on Potter, having a Malfoy be direct. Draco was sure that was why his father had done it, but it was still fun to watch the effect.
            Potter said, “I intend to keep the bond at least through the trials, and make sure that everyone knows insulting or harming you or your wife means getting me angry. Draco is my vassal. You’re not, but I can do my best to give you my protection.” He nodded to Narcissa, who gave Potter the kind of small, cool smile that always made Draco nervous.
            Potter didn’t have the sense or the knowledge to be nervous. He was going obliviously on. “When the trials are done, then I can release the bond. Or, at least, I plan to. I still haven’t learned exactly how to do it, but I know that the bond will do what I want if I work with it instead of trying to reject it. So I’ll release Draco then, and hopefully all of you will be alive. I don’t know about out of Azkaban.”
            There was a silence. Draco glanced up at his parents. They’d stood outside the room and eavesdropped on Potter and Greg for a while. Had his father not believed Potter when he said that he would let as many of his vassals go as possible?
            “I believe,” said Lucius, his voice very soft, “that would be a mistake.”
            “I know Draco wants to be free,” said Potter, and looked at Draco. Draco found himself squirming, lowering his eyes without meaning to. “That matters more to him than any political advantage. So I’m going to let him go. I just have to figure out how to do it.”
            Draco stared at Potter, then up at his father. Lucius had turned his head and was watching Draco. His face was calm and accepting—and frightening. That was the look he wore when Draco could make up his own mind, but would also have to make up his own justification.
            Draco took a deep breath and shook his head. “I think you have me confused with Blaise, Potter,” he told him. “He does want to be free, and he doesn’t care who he has to step on to do it. You could probably release him right now, and he would rather face the trials alone.”
            “He would flee the country, is what he would do,” Potter said shortly, and without even pausing to look at the mark on his arm. Draco wondered if the bond was telling Potter things about his vassals that he didn’t know consciously, and swallowed. That was also frightening. “And that’s why I’m keeping him under the bond until after the trials, too. If he was my only vassal, he could go, but he might make the rest of you look bad, and give them an excuse to come after you even harder than they will now.”
            “Harder than they will,” said Narcissa, with a fragility in her voice that made Draco smile in spite of himself. Potter was a fool if he fell for that, but then again, Draco didn’t think his Lord was that much of a fool. “So there are political disadvantages as well as advantages to being allied with you.”
            “Well, yeah,” Potter said. “Greg told me about the attack on your cells. And there was the kidnapping Draco and the others went through, and the attack here. It’s probably my fault, because I challenged the Wizengamot.” He turned to Draco. “Maybe you should reconsider whether you want to be bonded to me.”
            Draco stared at him for a second, and then looked at his parents for guidance again. His mother sat with her hands folded in her lap. His father hadn’t dropped the cool expression that said, once again, the choice was Draco’s.
            Bloody wonderful. Draco turned back and spoke honestly, something that had nearly been trained out of him in the last year with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord in such close proximity. It probably helped that he was talking to Potter, whom he had honestly insulted many times.
            “I think that I’ll still have a better chance with you than I would on my own, right now. I would have some of the same enemies after me if I was free, and others who would consider going after me when they wouldn’t if I was under your protection.” Draco took a deep breath and braced himself for the next thing he had to say. They had discussed strategy, him and his parents, and they had all agreed that it would sound better coming from him, the person Potter already had the impulse to protect. “In fact…can you extend the bond? So that it embraces my parents as well as me?”
            Potter stared at him in turn, for long enough that Draco thought he was going to refuse and his parents’ surrender of pride and dignity would be for nothing. Then Potter turned as though Draco had ceased to exist and looked his parents directly in the eye, first one and then the other.
            “I sort of despise parents who make their kid speak for them,” Potter said.
            Lucius leaned forwards. “You are not a stranger to these games of political power,” he said. “Not the way that Severus tells me you spoke in front of the Wizengamot.”
            Draco nodded. They had spent about an hour talking with Professor Snape this afternoon, and Draco had heard all the details about Potter’s exploits in front of the Wizengamot that he hadn’t before. That meant, as far as he was concerned, that Potter could protect them all with words almost as well as with the bond magic.
            Potter, though, laughed, not for long but roughly, in a way that made him hoot. For the first time since the conversation began, Draco saw his father start and shift a little, not perfectly balancing his weight.
            “You really haven’t been paying attention if you think I’m some kind of expert at this.” Potter shook his head. “I achieved victories through help and magic. One time the Sorting Hat and Dumbledore’s phoenix helped me. One time it was my mother’s protection. Well, more times than one it was my mother’s protection, really. And I had lots of luck, and I had Dumbledore manipulating behind the scenes to make sure that everything turned out all right.”
            Abruptly, he leaned forwards, and his face was hard. “Maybe your lives would be easier if you were my vassals, too. I really don’t know. The thing is, I’m not the same kind of person you are. I’m not good at politics. I’m trying, because I have to, but that speech in front of the Wizengamot was just me being honest and angry. Now they’re going to expect that, and I’m not sure I would be that lucky a second time.” He hesitated, and then added, “I’ve been lucky more than once, but usually not in the same way.”
            Narcissa leaned back a little on the couch, enough for Draco to see her face past his father’s head. Her eyes were closed, and her lips moving. Draco wondered if she was calculating their newly changed chances.
            “I do not care.”
            And that was his father. Draco thought the tendons in his neck creaked, he whipped his head around so fast to stare at Lucius.
            “I do not care if it was luck or manipulation or expertise that you do not acknowledge you had,” Lucius repeated, staring into Potter’s eyes. “I know that you survived, that you are alive and the Dark Lord is not. I compromised the family pride and dignity as much as I ever will when I served an insane monster. I would rather serve someone who is looking to help and shield others, and has the help of one of the best Potions masters I know.” He hesitated, then added, “And an unshakable sense of his own mission.”
            Draco didn’t really know whether that last statement was meant to be a compliment or not; they were the kind of words his father would sneer over dinner about his opponents in the Ministry. But Potter just nodded, slowly and kind of regally, before standing up from the couch.
            “Think more about it,” he said. “Accepting you as vassals under the same bond would be difficult, since we don’t really know much about how this one started or how to duplicate the shield mark on your arms, so it would have to be a different one. Think about it. I’ll take your answer in the morning. Your answer,” he added, and then smiled at Draco. “I already know yours. Good choice.” And he strode out of the room with Greg following him. Greg gave one look back at Draco, but then turned around and marched after Potter.
            Draco blinked and leaned back on the couch. His parents were speaking to each other, those little half-sentences of political negotiation and calculation that Draco found it hard to follow anyway. His parents had known each other too long to explain things to anyone else.
            In the meantime…
            Draco had his parents back. He had almost had time to get used to that, since they’d been here all day now.
            He wondered how long it would take him to get used to the feeling that blazed through him when Potter smiled at him.
*
delia cerrano: Well, Blaise would still have to find a way to send the letter.
SP777: Draco can admit now that some of what he did wasn’t in the best interests of his family. But it did take an in-family perspective to make him see that.
polka dot: True. Blaise’s main problem is that he wants to be treated like an adult while having the behavior of a child.
Genuka: I don’t think so. He’s just very emotional and has no support from within the bond right now—at least not that he can accept.
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The Only True Lords