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The Only True Lords	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 54578 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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Chapter Twenty-Eight—Thoughts and Experiences
            Blaise came slowly out of his room, hand clenched around his letter. He had rewritten it over and over again, and only snarled at the house-elf who showed up and tried to feed him. It had to be perfect. On the one hand, he was asking his mother to come and rescue him; on the other hand, he had to make it sound as though he was strong in asking it, not weak. She would never come and rescue him from something he should have been able to handle on his own.
            Which is most things, now that you are of age and have had the benefit of her training all your life.
            Blaise sighed and shook his head. He wouldn’t begin that useless argument with himself again. He looked around. Of course, now that he wanted the house-elf, the creature wasn’t anywhere around the kitchen.
            There was a huge, delicious meal cooling there, though. Blaise went and helped himself to some of what looked like a meat dish decorated with melted cheese. He didn’t know what it was, but he was willing to find out, it looked so good.
            “What are you doing now?”
            Blaise whirled around. Of course his Lord was there, with Greg behind him. Greg had no expression on his face, but Blaise recognized the way Greg watched him. It was the way he acted if he thought Draco was going to give him an order to beat someone up.
            Blaise swallowed and sneered. Once a guard dog, always a guard dog. It only depends on who’s holding the leash. “None of your business,” he said. “I was eating. I haven’t eaten all day. I didn’t want to be around people who would all brand me a traitor.”
            “Kreacher would have brought you a private meal if you asked,” said Potter. His face was weird, too. It wasn’t true to say that he had learned to hide his emotions, but he was meeting Blaise’s eyes with more fortitude and less passion than he had before.
            Blaise didn’t curse aloud. He wasn’t so stupid. But he did incline his head and say, “It’s true that I had something to do. Writing a letter to my family lawyer.” He held up the letter. “He may be able to give us some legal advice. And whatever you think, the laws about what Lords and vassals are supposed to do won’t be the only influence on our trials, once they start.”
            Potter cocked his head to the side. Blaise wondered what he was doing. Did he think that he could somehow see through the envelope and find out who the letter had been really addressed to? Of course not. There was no mark on the outside that would reveal that, either. For once, Blaise was glad that they didn’t have wands. Potter couldn’t cast any of the spells that would make it easier for him to find out Blaise’s deception, and that included a Summoning Charm.
            Then Potter said softly, “You’re lying. I don’t know who you’re writing to, but it’s not your lawyer.”
            Fear prickled all over Blaise’s skin. How had Potter known that? He didn’t realize the truth, but this was too close to it.
            Then he thought of the way Potter had tilted his head to the side, as though listening to something, and knew. Potter had been listening to the bond, which apparently thought Potter should know when one of his vassals was lying to him.
            “Fine,” Blaise spat, too angry to be afraid. “I’m writing to my mother. She’s the only one who understands me and cares for me, instead of turning me into a torture victim. She’ll come and take you away from me.”
            “That can’t be,” Potter said. “I gave my word that none of us would leave the house, remember?” He went on before Blaise could retort to that with the contempt it deserved. “But she can come and visit. Given what you told me about her, though, I wonder if you’d really want her here. She could devastate you with a single word, and I think you’ll agree that I would never be able to do that, no matter what happened.”
            “You’re an idiot,” Blaise said, and ignored the way that Greg gaped at him. Greg was always gaping at something or other, from a new food the house-elves at Hogwarts tried to a winning chess move. “I need her.”
            “Even though she might despise you for not being able to escape on your own?”
            Blaise felt his shoulders tremble and tense. He used his anger to drive out the potential pain. He never should have told Potter so much about his mother. He couldn’t remember what had possessed him to do that, anyway. Stupidity, and the bond, which meant the same thing. “Even then.”
            Potter considered him with those same unfathomable eyes, then shrugged once. “Kreacher!” he called.
            The house-elf popped up, bowing. Blaise wanted to sneer, and would have, except that Greg was watching him. Of course the house-elf obeyed like Potter was his Lord, too, even though it was a Black house-elf and should have despised anyone who wasn’t of pure blood.
            “Master Harry Potter is needing something?” the elf mumbled, and then turned and looked at Blaise with disapproval that made him stiffen his spine. His mother never would have wanted him to get into a situation where an inferior being could dismiss him.
            “Yes,” said Potter, and pointed to Blaise. “Mr. Zabini needs a letter delivered. None of us can leave the house, due to me giving my word. I’d like you to take it to Mrs. Zabini.”
            The house-elf sniffed a little, and held out his hand. Blaise put the letter in it, and then folded his own hands behind his back so that no one could see them shaking.
            He thought Potter had already seen, though. And Blaise hated him all the more for that.
            “I know you would have wanted Kreacher to deliver the letter,” Potter said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Well, you wouldn’t have got him to without me. He obeys me, as Lord of the house. Not you, as my vassal.”
            Blaise felt shame squirming in his stomach, and had to fling something back at Potter. After a moment of groping, he found it. “Are you afraid that when she comes, my mother can overpower you?”
            Potter treated it like a genuine question and not the rhetorical one that Blaise had meant it to be, seeming to consider it. Then he shook his head and walked into the kitchen, where he piled some more food on a plate and carried it away upstairs. Greg followed him, turning his head the whole way to keep his attention on Blaise.
            Blaise sat down with a little hiss. He knew he could eat, that no one would bother him now. No one probably cared that he was here right now, not with Draco occupied with his parents and Professor Snape Salazar knew where.
            But his hunger had vanished. He wondered for a second what he would do if Potter was just stronger than his mother, if there was no way for him to get out of this or be the power that he needed to be to preserve his independence.
            Then he shoved those thoughts aside, to languish in the prison they deserved. That would not happen. No one was stronger than his mother. She had told him that often enough, urging Blaise to a position of equality, but not one that would surpass her. Blaise knew he couldn’t. She had survived things in her early childhood that he hadn’t, because she had made a more comfortable life for him, and that meant he couldn’t be as tough.
            But damn, he wished she was here, even if it was to look at him with freezing eyes and tell him that he had disappointed her. That would make him feel bad, but not the way being Potter’s slave did.
*
            “I have come to give you advice I do not think you will like.”
            Severus had waited until he was sure that Potter was done with the food he had fetched up from the kitchen, and done feeding Gregory like a puppy, as well. They both needed enough sustenance not to collapse. Severus disliked dealing with faintness and weakness, even his own.
            “What advice is that?” Potter had taken the tray to the library he had eaten in before. He had a book about Lordship bonds open on his lap, and he didn’t close it when Severus came into the room. Reluctantly, Severus approved. Potter had to start showing that none of his vassals could order him around, or it would be a disaster when it came to their trials. But he did at least fix his gaze on Severus.
            “To not take the Malfoys into the bond as your vassals,” Severus said, and sat down on the chair in front of Potter.
            Gregory shifted, but Potter glanced at him and shook his head, apparently commanding him to hold still. He turned back to Severus. “I hadn’t even decided if I could,” he said. “I don’t think we could duplicate the accidental structure of the first bond.”
            Severus waved a hand. “They could swear to you in some other way, as the traditional prerogative of a Lord, and the usual way to establish a bond. But I do not think even that is a good idea.”
            “Tell me why.”
            Where was this masterful boy in the war? I could have followed him without resentment then.
            Then Severus sighed. There was really no time that he would not have resented Harry Potter, he knew, not if he was being honest with himself.
            “Because the Malfoys will be a millstone around your neck,” Severus said. “You can come up with mitigating circumstances for most of us. I know Draco will swear under Veritaserum that he did not want to become a Death Eater and only tortured people reluctantly. Gregory likewise—if he did any torture, which I suspect he did not.”
            Gregory nodded, but didn’t volunteer anything else. Severus held back a shrug. There were different kinds of Slytherins, and Gregory seemed to have already decided on what kind he wanted to be.
            “Parkinson and Zabini were not Marked,” Severus finished. “I can swear that I have acted as a spy for decades, not only out of fear of my life.” He did not say more than that, and was relieved that Potter didn’t, either, although his eyes flashed with what might have been compassion. “But the Malfoys…I know that Lucius was a willing Death Eater for longer than he was frightened of the Dark Lord and wishing to be free. He is also a prison escapee. And Narcissa supported her husband and did other things in protection of her son that I do not think you know about.”
            “No,” Potter said. To Severus’s surprise, he did not ask Severus to tell him what Narcissa had done. He gazed at his book instead, smoothing down the cover.
            Severus debated opening his mouth, but like Gregory, he thought he knew the best times to be silent. So he was, and Potter finally lifted his gaze from the book and nodded to him.
            “I won’t accept them,” he said decisively. “I’m going to work a different kind of deal with Lucius instead. I don’t know about Narcissa yet. It’s weird, but even though I barely saw either of them, I feel like I know Lucius better.”
            “He is more predictable,” Severus said. “Narcissa is driven by the needs and emotions of her son more than the needs of the family, while Lucius will always do what he thinks best for the line.”
            “Not Draco?” Potter looked at him curiously. “I saw him during the battle acting as though Draco was his first priority.”
            “Not in the same way he is to Narcissa,” Severus said. “Lucius, I believe, sincerely loves Draco, but he does it partially because Draco is his heir. He was willing to die to secure Draco’s life and freedom, as you saw. That does not mean that he would try to keep Draco perfectly happy. He values Draco’s life before his happiness.”
            “Okay,” Potter said. “That was what I thought, based on some of the things he said to me earlier, and so I’m going to do this. I’ll guarantee that Draco stays my vassal long enough to at least be free of Azkaban, survive the trials, and secure every political advantage. In return, Lucius has to go to prison.”
            Severus narrowed his eyes. “As vengeance?”
            Potter shook his head. “Because there’s no way I can accept him as my vassal, and I can’t have him plotting against me, either.”
            Severus studied Potter for a second. “What made you come to such a sensible decision?” he asked. “You were enough of a Gryffindor in school that I never believed that you would be able to.”
            “I’m not in school anymore, am I?” Potter murmured back. “I’m not all-wise. I don’t know what I’ll do about Narcissa. I don’t know if Draco will be happy with this deal, although I think Lucius will, and Draco might rage and fuss and start hating me again. I don’t know if what I did with Zabini was the right thing.”
            “What did he do now?” Severus asked.
            “He wrote a letter to his mother, and was trying to convince Kreacher to send it. I told Kreacher to take it to Mrs. Zabini.” Potter leaned back in his chair, looking disgusted, although even when he spoke, Severus was not certain why. “I’m tired of running around after him. I’ll have his mother come, and that will occupy him one way or the other. She might even know a way to end the bond. At this point, I’m willing to let Blaise have his way. He’s more of a drain on me than four other vassals put together.”
            Severus grunted. He had his own thoughts about the introduction of Mrs. Zabini into the house, but it was true that he could see very little else to do as a way of coping with Zabini. He had too much of his past in him, his past before coming to Hogwarts. Severus had sometimes run afoul of Zabini’s stubbornness when ordering him to do something, but not enough to make him realize what a problem it would be in in a Lordship bond.
            “This is a dangerous situation,” Severus said, in a tone that he was not sure that he meant Potter to overhear. “It could become explosive with the introduction of new people. But you know that.”
            “I do.” Potter’s voice was soft itself, pointed. “But I need to tend to the needs of my vassals, and I can’t force them to obey me, and I already endured Draco screaming about not having his parents here. I don’t want to go through the same thing with Zabini, not after what he’s done to me.” He turned back to his book. “Did you have any more advice to offer me, sir?”
            “That you call me by my first name, as I thought you had already promised to do,” Severus said coolly.
            Potter winced and glanced at him. “Sorry. Did you have any more advice to offer me, Severus?”
            For the first time that Severus could remember, such a repetition of something he had already said didn’t sound mocking. He sighed and stood, shaking his head. “You should remember that you cannot do everything.”
            “And yet people keep expecting me to take on more responsibilities, and telling me that I have to do things or I’m evil, and trying to kill me,” Potter said, his voice as cold as oil suddenly. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but I already know that I can’t do everything. There’s just no end of people expecting me to do it.”
            Severus stared at him, and had no idea what to say. He supposed that Potter’s work was rather like his own work as Slytherin Head of House, except that Severus did usually get a holiday from it at certain points, and he was not legally responsible for what his students did unless he ignored certain warning signs.
            “What are you going to do about that?” he asked finally.
            Potter sighed. “I don’t know yet.”
            Severus departed the library, feeling that he would have liked to tell Potter to get some sleep and eat, but he’d slept most of the day, and had food in front of him. What more he should have than that, Severus didn’t know.
*
            Harry slammed the book down on his lap when he heard someone pounding on the door below. If that was Mrs. Zabini, then he would send Kreacher to bring her in, and he would fucking deal with her later. He was tired of always starting something, research or a night’s sleep or something else, and having idiots come along to interrupt it.
            “Answer the door, Kreacher!” he yelled, and turned back to the book again.
            Greg gently cleared his throat. Harry glanced up at once, because while he was getting pretty bloody tired of his vassals needing constant care, Greg hadn’t been actively annoying so far, and for him to ask for anything was unusual. It might mean he needed it all the more because he didn’t ask often.
            “Yes?” he asked, when it became obvious that Greg wouldn’t speak without permission.
            “I think you need a holiday,” said Greg. “Stop researching. You know how to release some people from the bond and keep others. You need to make the bond flexible.”
            “I don’t know how to—”
            “You know how,” Greg said inexorably. “You just don’t know the exact way. It’s like—it’s like writing an essay. You know how to write. It’s just going to take a while to put all the words together. A long time.”
            Harry smiled despite himself. “You’re right,” he said, and put the book down. He ought to go to bed, he thought, or find another book that was about Quidditch or fairy tales, and just read it for fun for a little while. He’d had enough with thinking about all sorts of things that just made him more angry and depressed in the end. “I can’t do anything tonight. It’s too late, and I’m still partially exhausted.”
            Greg beamed at him and started shepherding Harry towards the door. “You can go to bed,” he said. “I’ll stand guard outside your door for a little while.”
            Harry turned back towards Greg. “It has to be for only a little while,” he said. The words had reminded him of something he had nearly forgotten. Honestly, it wasn’t strange that people kept forgetting about Greg and treating him like a house-elf. Harry sometimes did the same thing, he thought about Greg so much as just an extension of Draco. “You need some sleep, too. I know that you woke up early in the morning and you didn’t sleep while you were guarding me.”
            “Someone had to guard you, my Lord.”
            Harry opened his mouth, and then ended up holding up a hand when Greg cracked his knuckles meaningfully. The mark on his arm wasn’t burning, which meant he wasn’t going to get help from the bond. Apparently, it felt a vassal threatening his Lord was perfectly appropriate if it was in the name of getting him to get some sleep. “Fine,” he grumbled, and didn’t even try to hide the way he was sulking. “I don’t know why everyone has to beat up on me like this.”
            “Who beat up on you?”
            Careful with metaphorical language, Harry reminded himself. Greg wasn’t stupid, exactly, but also he didn’t always understand it when it was used around him. “I just meant that everyone thinks that they should do whatever they want, but also I should command them with the bond, at the same time. I don’t know what to do.”
            “You should command them with the bond, my Lord,” Greg said. And then he thought about it, and added, “If they’re your vassals. Otherwise, they don’t get the bond.”
            Harry blinked. It almost sounded as though Greg was jealous. Well, he had known Greg was Slytherin. This was just another way it could manifest, he supposed. “Then I command you, in the name of the bond, to guard my door for an hour,” he said firmly. He could have said, “not longer than an hour,” but he wasn’t sure that Greg would want to listen to that. And anyway an hour was a nice, round space of time. “Then you should go to bed.”
            Greg nodded, his face set and serious. “Yes, my Lord.”
            Harry turned around again. Despite the way he’d slept almost all day, his bed still sounded good.
            Then he heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, and whirled around, his hand falling to the wand that wasn’t there. It occurred to him suddenly that he never had known who’d been at the door, Mrs. Zabini or someone else.
            Two figures appeared. For a second, Harry thought he had eyestrain, because the first person he saw was impossible.
            And then he began to laugh, and flung himself halfway down the stairs to meet their hugs, because the two people were Ron and Hermione.
            Hermione was hugging him hard enough a minute later to make Harry feel as if his spine was going to break. He clung to her, rocked back and forth, and Ron said some gruff things and pounded him on the back, too, wherever he could find a spot in between Hermione’s gripping arms. Harry didn’t need to know what Ron was saying. It was enough that he was saying it.
            His friends were here. He could get through some awfulness with them here. He didn’t need to go to bed right away. He felt awake, and full of light. They could help him. They would help him, and not because he was their Lord or they owed him life-debts or they’d had some kind of really complicated relationship with his mother. They were just his friends, and his equals.
            He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that.
*
            Greg rubbed his arm. His shield mark was burning a little, and he wondered if that meant his Lord was dissatisfied. Maybe Greg shouldn’t have let his friends so close to him before he checked to see if his Lord really wanted them there.
            But no, the face that his Lord had as his friend rocked him back and forth was blissful, and his other friend hadn’t even scowled at Greg. He was too occupied with his patting his Lord on the back. He was a Weasley, and Weasleys always scowled at Slytherins. That was amazing.
            Greg slowly nodded. No, his Lord needed his friends, and Greg couldn’t be that to him. He knew he had never been Draco’s friend. Draco told him what to do and he did it, and that was okay. Vince hadn’t wanted that, and he had—
            Greg turned away from the fire.
            But as long as his Lord was still there and he could help him sometimes and his Lord would give him orders sometimes, it was okay.
            And the burning vanished.
*
            Kain: Pansy is probably too wise and canny to want to be with Harry in a romantic sense when she knows that he would always have a degree of power over her. I think she could accept being a non-equal partner, a vassal, in politics as long as she also got to have some power over other people. But not in a romance, where her lover could command her to do something.
            Harry, by keeping the Slytherins cooped up, has channeled things so that people with a grudge against the Slytherins will have to confront them in the courtroom. They'll have a chance to have their say, and it's much more just than randomly attacking them with lethal curses that might or might not be a fair punishment for what they did.
            And I see what you mean about the Ministry. I usually see them as having a small group of people at the top who are terrified of losing power and a much larger group who are too scared or indifferent to interfere. "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." And I think that's pretty much the case with the Ministry in the books. Voldemort could never have taken them so easily if people weren't so used to doing what they were told and had stood up and fought.
            Thoughts about Lucius noted.
            delia cerrano: Greg is one of the Marked ones, which may cost him.
            polka dot: Or be used to it.
            moodysavage: Thanks! No worries. If you have time to review and want to, I'm always flattered.
            SP777: He will probably not have a single adviser, only partial ones. He has too many very partial people bound to him.
            WorldePARALLEL: Draco really did think Harry had harmed his family, and Lucius has trained him to consider the family important before all else.
            As you can see here, Harry is worried about what Draco and Blaise are planning, or would do if they were somehow prevented from having their parents with them, but it's no longer his greatest concern. He just has too much to worry about.
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The Only True Lords