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The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 104307 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter; all rights go to J. K. Rowling. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Last Time
He was not just some kid playing at being an adult. He had never really gotten the chance to be a kid at all, and he refused to allow anyone to label him in such a way now, not when he was sitting on the high court, and parliament, of wizarding Britain. Not just because they wanted him booted out, especially not if this had anything to do with his planned law reforms. He would keep going, he would keep writing for that creature reform law, and he would get it passed by any means necessary. Even if the media tried to block him and slander him, he would stand tall and strong, and carry on despite their efforts to stop him. He would never let them win.
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Diagon Alley

Harry was very satisfied the next morning, as an emergency edition of the Quibbler was delivered to him at breakfast and he saw that his interview had been published, along with Xerxes’ written statement, to back up his claim.
He scanned the article, before passing it onto Lucius. He was much happier today, and they were going to Diagon Alley this morning to buy their school supplies, seeing as they hadn’t gone yesterday due to the Daily Prophet uproar.

“I’m glad to see you smiling again.” Rabastan told him. “I hate seeing you so upset.”

Harry smiled wider and turned to give Rabastan a kiss. “Now that I feel I’ve done something, I’m not so upset anymore. I’m still angry that this happened at all, but I’m hopeful that I can salvage at least some pride, so that I can start building upon it.”

Rabastan cupped his face and kissed him again. “You have done more than enough, this will not fall on you, but on them. They chose to target you as an adult, then demeaned you as a child, you are not an orphaned boy with no one to protect you any longer. You have a family now, one who will stand with you until the end of time.”

Harry wrapped both his arms around Rabastan’s neck and put his face to his throat, holding on for comfort. Rabastan stroked his back, which helped Harry to relax.

“I wish you could come with us. I hate shopping.” Harry chuckled.

“I think it is safe to say that I hate shopping even more than you do, my love.” Rabastan grinned.

“Misery loves company?” Harry queried, peeking up at his fiancé with a small smile.

“It does, but unless there is something I want specifically that cannot be ordered via owl, I will not go shopping.”

“Fine, but you better be ready to hug the shit out of me when I come home.”

Rabastan laughed, sudden and uncontrollable, it got the attention of the table, but neither of them cared as they stayed wrapped up in one another’s arms, in their own little bubble.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” Rabastan told him, once he had regained control of his laughter.

“Harry, drink your milk, please.” Narcissa interrupted.

Harry blinked and turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry?” He asked.

“Drink your milk.” She repeated.

Harry made an ‘O’ with his mouth and turned to the little glass of goat milk that he hadn’t touched yet. He turned away from Rabastan a little, which was likely his mother’s intent, and he picked up the glass and gulped it all down. He did prefer goat milk to cow milk, but truthfully he didn’t like either and he’d rather not drink any milk at all.
Rabastan’s hand on his back helped, though when he’d finished the glass that hand slid all the way down to the waistline of his trousers, Harry shot his fiancé a warning look. A look that was ignored by a smirking Rabastan.

“Are you sure you want to start this dangerous game again, my love?” Harry asked softly. “Remember what happened the last time?”

One of Rabastan’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his trousers and boxers and Harry’s eyes widened in shock.

“You lost this game the last time, Rabastan.” Harry pointed out desperately.

“Perhaps I want to win this time?” Rabastan told him innocently. Harry almost snorted in amusement, Rabastan could not pull off the innocent look at all.

“You know that that won’t happen.” Harry said firmly. “I’ll win once more and you’ll have to change your boxers in the middle of the day again.”

Rabastan laughed happily, far too amused at being reminded that he’d lost control and had orgasmed under Harry’s manipulative mouth in the middle of the drawing room.

“This time it’ll be you.” Rabastan promised.

“You’ve already done that to me!” Harry reminded in a hiss. “I don’t want that to happen again! Me doing that to you was just payback.”

“Oh?” Rabastan replied, still trying to keep up the innocent look. It made Harry’s lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you paid me back for that incident, and now I’m paying you back in kind.”

“That’s not how it works!” Harry hissed, but he gasped as Rabastan shifted closer to him, and his wandering hand slipped around the front of Harry’s body.

Rabastan bent right in close. “I think that that is exactly how it works, my love.” He whispered straight into Harry’s ear.

Harry tried to act normally, he tried to ignore the hand in his lap, but he was so sexually frustrated that he reacted almost immediately to any sort of touch. Truthfully he reacted to the merest implication of touch, and he was already hard by the time Rabastan’s fingers had skipped over his hip and touched him properly.
He sat ramrod straight, trying to suppress any sound that wanted to escape. He even tried to cross his legs, but he wasn’t sure why he did it, whether it was to try and knock Rabastan’s hand away, or keep it where it was, seeing as all he did was trap Rabastan’s wrist between his thighs.
He heard the dark chuckle, and it went straight down his back and made his dick throb. He was trembling, ever so slightly, trying to control himself. A small whimper slipped out and Harry saw Rabastan’s smirk flare.

“You bastard. I’ll get you for this.” Harry hissed, even as he shuddered and suppressed a wanton moan.

“I can’t wait to see you completely unrestrained.” Rabastan said, his smirk softening into a smile.

“Likewise.” Harry forced out.

“Boys, are you ready to go to Diagon Alley?” Narcissa asked, placing down her empty teacup.

Rabastan’s hand slipped away, and Harry felt like screaming in frustration. He was teetering on the edge of orgasm, and now he had no relief at all. He was left hard and aching, frustrated and angry. He would definitely be paying Rabastan back for this.

“I am, Mother.” Draco replied, standing from his chair.

“Harry?”

“I just need to use the bathroom.” Harry said, as normally as he could. Though his voice was slightly more hushed than usual, no one noticed, or if they did then they didn’t think anything of it.

He stood and hurried from the room, aiming to go and take care of himself for a moment. He was already thinking of revenge plots. Rabastan would not get away with what he’d just done at the breakfast table.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry was enduring the looks being sent towards him with as much dignity as he could manage. What did please him though was that nearly everyone he saw was holding, or reading, a copy of the Quibbler. Some of them were in small groups so they could read over one another’s shoulder, but Harry was certain that everyone was talking about that article, where yesterday they had likely been talking about the Daily Prophet article.
Draco stayed close by him, supporting him as they shopped.

“It looks like your idea to publish in the Quibbler was a good idea.” Draco said, smiling.

“It worked last year, I’m just glad that it worked this time too. Hopefully everyone will read it and realise that the Prophet is making up lies about me again. The lawsuit should help even more.”

“Boys, do you both have the same set of books to get?”

“Yes, Mother.” They both replied together.

“We’ll do Flourish and Blotts last then. Robes first, I believe, as it’ll take a while to have you both fitted.”

They were taken to Twilfitt and Tattings, and Draco grinned as he saw Astoria working, hauling big rolls of fabric for the seamstresses.

“Be kind!” Harry hissed at his brother.

“Of course I will, I’m just happy to see her.” Draco said, lifting a hand to smooth his hair back.

Harry smiled, but he hid it from Draco. He’d done similarly embarrassing shit when he’d been preparing to meet Rabastan before. He still did those things sometimes, and he refused to give Draco grief about it.

“Draco.” Astoria greeted, quickly brushing down her trousers and blouse before one hand reached up to pat at her hair, that had been pulled back into an elaborate bun. “It’s lovely to see you.” She said, even though she looked utterly mortified.

“We were supposed to come yesterday to get our school things, but…well, those plans were changed in light of everything.” Draco explained.

“Are you feeling better, Harry?” Astoria asked him.

Harry hugged her gently and kissed her cheek. “Much better, thank you, Astoria.”

Harry made himself scarce then, going over to his mother and leaving Draco and Astoria to talk to one another. Lucius had left them at the door to the shop and he’d walked off on his own.

“You’d like five sets of black robes, four sets of dress robes, and two winter cloaks, is that correct Missus Malfoy?” The head seamstress clarified, even as she got Harry to stand on a luxurious foot stool.

“Yes, the one set of dress robes is to be completed by the end of this week. Harry will need them soon.”

“I would say that greens, blues, and reds would suit you best.” The seamstress told him, looking at him and all but dissecting his skin tone, hair and eye colour. “You’re definitely in the cool, winter group.” She said which made no sense to Harry at all.

“That really means that you can wear all the bold, bright colours that you want without looking bad.” Astoria told him with a smile.

“You told me once that the darker the shade the better I’d look.” Harry told her.

“Astoria is right. A nice bold colour, darker rather than paler, would suit you the best.” The seamstress smiled, giving a proud look to Astoria. “You can even try black, grey, purple, or even pure white, and it will look wonderful on you.”

“I’d rather stay away from pure white.” He insisted.

“I don’t know, Harry. White robes, over green or blue, or even black, would look lovely.” Astoria told him.

“Black is my preferred under colour.” Harry nodded.

“As long as you steer clear of muted pastels, and all yellow and orange based tones, you can’t go wrong.” The seamstress told him, using her wand to direct a measuring tape, noting down everything in a small file that had Harry’s name on it. It was his personal profile file that would record his measurements and his ‘colours’ so if he requested dress robes in the middle of the year then he wouldn’t have to come in for a consultation. He’d just send in his measurements if they’d changed, and what colour he’d like them to be.

He hadn’t done this the last time. Narcissa had taken his measurements and ordered what she wanted directly, as Harry had been rather difficult when he’d first been adopted. He had a much better idea of how to behave, how to speak, and what he liked more than he had last year.

“Do you prefer your robes loose, or tight fitting?” The seamstress asked him.

“Tight fitting.” Harry said immediately.

The woman nodded, noting that down and the measuring tape suddenly started wrapping around his neck, then his chest, then his belly, down to his hips.

“You’re very slender.” The woman commented. “A more modern cut robe would complement you the best. You would be lost in thicker, more traditional robes and we’d lose all definition of body shape.”

“This is a nice colour, Harry.” His mother said, turning one of the thick fabric books to face him, showing the swatch of cloth attached to the page. It was a brilliant scarlet colour.

“I like that.” He said.

“It would match wonderfully with your colouring.” The seamstress told him approvingly. “Red will give you a healthy pink colour to your skin.”

“I found this colour working here too.” Astoria said, rushing to get another fabric book and flipping through it. “If you wanted to try a splash of purple.” She added.

Astoria turned the book and showed him a bright, bold royal purple colour. It was close to blue, but it was still definitely purple.

“The blue hue of this fabric will complement you perfectly, a wonderful suggestion, Astoria.” The seamstress praised.

“Pairing that with black would look so elegant.” Narcissa smiled.

“Alright, I’ll try purple.” Harry relented with a laugh.

Once he was measured, and Draco was having his turn being scrutinised and picked over, Harry was flipping through all the fabric books marked as ‘cool winter’ trying to find not only colours, but fabrics he liked too. He was feeling all of the little colour swatches, running them through his fingers to test what they felt like on his skin. He did have fun feeling a satiny silver piece of silk through his fingers. It felt amazing, but it would look awful on him, no matter his skin tone and colouring, he already knew. Draco would likely pull it off, though.
It took almost two hours for them both to be fitted and have all their colours chosen for dress robes, especially as Harry needed to find four of them. He’d chosen a nice dark sapphire blue for himself though, it was a shade or two darker than the Egyptian blue robes that Rowle had ruined, but Harry liked the feeling of the cotton material too.
Of course the needed emerald green was added to the list, on the darker side of course, as was the deep, royal purple that Astoria had picked out for him.
He was fed up of talking about clothes once they were out of the shop and he stretched himself in the August sun, feeling, and hearing, his back crack.

“Lucius, there you are.” Narcissa called out.

“All done?” He asked, striding to them.

“Yes, dear.”

“I’ve had their next year’s potions ingredients sent to the house.” Lucius reported. “I’ve also bought their parchment, standard ink and a new set of quills each. Did you order all of their robes?”

“Yes, dear. They will be completed on time and delivered to the house.”

“You remembered to order our Harry his dress robes for this weekend?”

“I’m not senile, Lucius.” Narcissa told her husband and both Harry and Draco ducked their heads and shared a grin with one another.

Lucius chuckled himself and wrapped his arm around his wife and they turned to Flourish and Blotts. Harry and Draco needed twenty-three books each. The same twenty-three books at that, which Harry thought was ridiculous and excessive. Harry would also look for more recreational reading material, particularly anything on law making, or the current laws still in effect.

“Harry, I assume you will be buying more than the required books on your list?” Lucius asked him.

“Yes, Father.” Harry replied immediately.

“I will gather your school books then, but you are limited to one hour only, am I clear?”

Harry nodded and he hurried off to the second floor, which he’d learnt held most of the law and political books.
The first floor, which is where all of the school books were displayed for convenience, had been busy and loud. In contrast the second floor was more peaceful and there were less people up here, so that he could peruse the books without fighting people to get access to the bookshelves.
He had never once thought in the past that he would have any sort of interest in politics of any kind, he’d never thought of writing or reforming laws, and he’d never once thought of becoming the Minister for Magic, but here he was, a member of the Wizengamot, and aiming right for the top office. He wondered if Voldemort would force Thicknesse to stand down for him, when the time came, or if Harry would have to be voted in. That, of course, brought his thoughts back to the Prophet article and the public perception of him. He’d never get voted in for anything if people still believed the libellous Prophet articles published about him.

“You have a keen interest in politics.”

Harry blinked and looked up from the book he was scanning through, making sure it was what he was looking for, to look at the man who had sidled up to him.

Harry smiled. “Yes. I’ve become very interested in politics, and learning the laws of the country too.”

“Might I suggest you read this book?” The man told him, reaching to the top shelf, that Harry couldn’t see let alone reach, and he pulled down a big, heavy book to show him.

Harry put the book he’d been flipping through into his to-buy pile and took the thick book from the stranger.

“Ancient laws and customs?” Harry queried, looking up in bemusement.

“Would it shock you if I told you that this is the most comprehensible list of all current, enforceable laws? That this book is the basis for all wizarding customs and traditions?”

Harry checked the date on the book and his eyes widened in surprise. “Fourteen-forty-two.”

The man nodded. “Yes. Yet the laws in this book are almost all still in use today.”

Harry flipped through a few pages, searched the index page, then turned to the first chapter, seeing if he could read it. It was written in Middle English. He was going to need a translation dictionary.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to read this.” He said distractedly.

“I read the Daily Prophet article.”

Harry’s head snapped up at that. He took a deep breath to soothe his immediate anger.

“The Prophet has always written gossip about me, they’re little better than Witch Weekly.” He insisted calmly.

The man was watching him closely. “I read the Quibbler article as well.”

“Your thoughts and opinions are your own. I wasn’t intending to change minds, only to tell the truth. Take from both articles what you will, it’s not for me to make up your mind for you.”

The man laughed then. “My wife is right, you are going to rule the world one day.”

Harry blinked in surprise, feeling wrong footed by this stranger.

“Daniel Parker.” The man introduced himself. “I work in the DMLE. I’m a Law Enforcer.”

“Oh, so you know all of the laws?” Harry replied, much more interested in the man in front of him.

Daniel laughed. “We can’t know them all. We have dedicated people who keep a track record of all the current laws in filing cabinets. Though it’s usually the Head of the law division, old Winston Craken, who handles all Ministry requests for current laws.”

“Were you perhaps on duty when Dennis Jute was apprehended?”

“Smart boy.” Daniel smiled. “I was, yes. My team were the first on the scene. I read what the Prophet wrote about that incident myself, and I knew then that they were skewing with the perception of it. Them bringing it back up again yesterday only made me angrier. I saw first-hand what that madman did, the damage he caused and the clean-up was immense. I was happier when I came to Diagon this morning to find people raving about a special Quibbler edition. Naturally I was curious and bought it myself, only to find that you’d answered all of those baseless accusations against you.”

“I’m happy to know that there are at least some people who are willing to see the Prophet for what it is.”

“My wife is beside herself for them targeting a child in such a way, and yes, we both know you’re seventeen now, and a Lord at that.” Daniel told him, laughing at Harry’s narrow-eyed glare. “But you are still in school, and we have kids in their twenties and they’re still children to us, we don’t mean any offence.”

Harry nodded his understanding and eased down. That had been in the Quibbler article too. Pointing out how he was still in school, being claimed as a child within the Prophet article, yet being targeted, attacked and slandered as if he were an adult.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d help, seeing as I saw what sort of books you were going for, and I had to read that book myself to become a Law Enforcer. I would have tapped out and quit if my wife hadn’t forced me to stick to it. But it’s incredibly informative, it should have everything you’re looking for in one book.”

“Thank you.” Harry replied, adding the book to his little stack.

“No problem, keep doing what you’re doing, not all of us are imbeciles who believe everything the Prophet prints.”

Daniel walked off with a wave, and Harry mused at the rather strange interaction. He went up to the third floor, and went searching for a Middle English to modern English dictionary.

“There you are!”

Harry turned to look at his relieved father.

“Do you have any idea how frantic we were when we couldn’t find you?”

“I’m sorry.” Harry replied, looking at his pocket watch and seeing he’d gone ten minutes over his hour limit.

“Are you alright?” Lucius asked him.

Harry nodded. “I can’t find a decent translation dictionary for Middle English.”

“I assume that it’s relevant and needed?”

Harry nodded. “One of my books is in Middle English. I need a translator to understand it.”

“Very well.”

Lucius started helping him find a decent translation dictionary, but pulled Harry away from the shelves as soon as a suitable one had been found. He clearly thought that Harry couldn’t be trusted, and was keeping him away from temptation.
Harry paid for his books, accepted the charmed bag, and then Lucius was leading him out and down the road to a bustling restaurant. Narcissa and Draco were already sat at a table and his mother sighed when she saw him behind Lucius.

“Where was he?” She asked Lucius, even as Harry sat down.

“He was still in Flourish and Blotts. He was up on the third floor.”

“What could you have wanted up on the third floor?” Draco demanded.

“A Middle English to modern English translation dictionary. One of the books I picked up is written in Middle English.”

“You’re so weird.” Draco declared.

“Pot. Kettle. Black.” Harry said shortly.

“Boys, enough. We’re out in public.” Lucius told them, reminding them to show a united front.

“I’ve ordered you both tea and a sandwich.” Narcissa told them.

“Thank you, Mother.” Harry smiled, but he dug a hand into his bag and pulled out the old book that looked like it had been on the shelf since it was first published.

“Dear Merlin, Harry, you’ll be fifty before you finish that book.” Draco told him.

“That’s probably true, as this is the book written in Middle English.” He sighed. “Hopefully the translator will help, and I’ll gain a better understanding of it.”

“Ancient laws and customs?” Lucius read. “Is there any particular reason you want to struggle through this book, Harry?”

“I’ve been informed that this is still the only book that has nearly all the current laws and traditional customs that we still follow today.” Harry explained. “Of course I would have hoped for a book in modern English, but beggars can’t be choosers in such things.”

They were served tea and their sandwiches, which was like a small treat before they went back home, and Harry put the book down to eat. He wasn’t reading it properly yet, he couldn’t as he needed the translator, but he was looking it through regardless. If he was understanding properly, this book had all of the Pureblood traditions and customs inside it, and he wanted to see if they were still being used, or if some things had been modernised to better fit in with modern life. He was very, very interested in it.

“Now, do you boys want anything else?” Lucius asked them. “Additional inks or parchments? New gloves or boots?”

“I need more parchment, definitely.” Harry replied. “Maybe a work journal to translate this book.”

Lucius nodded. “Draco?”

“I want to buy Astoria a gift.” He said, a little pink in the cheeks, but determined.

“I will go with you to assist you.” Narcissa told Draco.

“Very well, I will accompany you, Harry.” Lucius told him.

Harry gathered his bag of books, made sure that his new book was safely inside and he wasn’t leaving it anywhere. He and Lucius went one way, and Draco led his mother off in the other direction.

“We will pick you up some additional inks as well.” Lucius said.

Harry nodded. He was no longer using a dozen different colour inks to write his letters to Rabastan, instead he was using coloured bulletin points to mark each paragraph, but writing in plain black. This was a step up for Rabastan and he was focusing more, and he now had the ability to read and retain information, and he could read by himself, without the need to continuously mark where he was with a finger. He did still lose his place in long lines of text though, which is why Harry was upgrading his letter system to include Rabastan’s improvements, but also giving him a net to fall back on if he needed it. By next summer Rabastan could be reading letters, and other text, without the need for any assistance at all and Harry would be so proud of his suffering fiancé for such improvements.
Inside Scribbulus’ Writing Implements Harry went hunting for a proper work journal. Lucius picked him up several additional bottles of black ink and several sheaves of additional parchment, each one bundled into a pre-set number of sheets with twine. Lucius had picked him up the larger bundles of parchment, that each contained twenty-four sheets of parchment.
Harry found the perfect work journal. It was huge, but leather-bound and rather elegant looking. Harry picked it up and took it to his father, but as this was all additional equipment, and not his normal school stuff, Harry paid for it himself.

“Now, are you done?” Lucius asked him.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I’ve gotten everything I needed.” Harry smiled.

“Then let us go home.”

They made it with no issue to the Leaky Cauldron, so that they could floo home, but it was inside the pub, where a copy of the Quibbler was in nearly every hand, that things interrupted them.

“Excuse me, Mister Potter?” A distinctly Irish voice cut through.

Lucius immediately placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and pulled him in closer to his body.

The speaker was a small woman, who looked rather nervous, but even without Seamus Finnigan stood miserably beside her, Harry would have known who she was, as Seamus bore such a strong resemblance to her. Harry still remembered the fight he’d had with Seamus, and he remembered that his mother was a devout reader of the Daily Prophet…she had believed the lies about him the first time, and he wondered if she believed them this time.

“May I help you?” He asked politely.

“My son has something to say.” She said fiercely, pulling Seamus by his sleeve to stand in front of her.

“I’m sorry.” Seamus told him, stood there, looking at his feet, but nonetheless sounding sincere.

“Tell him what for!” His mother demanded.

The packed pub was almost silent. The patrons watching on with interest, and Seamus’ ears went red at the attention, but his mother wasn’t going to let him get away with not saying whatever it was she was forcing him to say, no matter how many people were watching.

“I’m sorry for taking your school stuff and destroying it all last year.” He said, not quite whispering, but still, it was so quiet in the pub that Harry was sure that all but those sitting right at the back could hear him perfectly.

“I assure you I never would have believed it of him!” His mother cut back in. “I have him working here during the summer, to pay off the debt he owes.”

Harry nodded, not sure what else to say. “I’m just sorry that it came to this.” He said softly.

“You were within your rights to claim compensation for the damage caused.” Lucius told him firmly.

“Absolutely.” Missus Finnigan agreed. “I didn’t raise my son to be a thief, nor did I raise a bully. I just wanted you to know that I do not accept his behaviour and he is being punished for his actions.”

“Thank you.” Harry told her.

“We will take our leave now.” Lucius said smoothly, gently manipulating Harry away from the two people and towards the large, open fireplace.

The pub burst into a cacophony of noise, as people discussed what they’d just seen, and what they’d read in the Quibbler, and Harry flooed home, ahead of his father. He really needed a sit down and a cuddle with Rabastan, perhaps a nice cup of tea and some biscuits, before he started on translating that book.
He carried his bags to the drawing room, and he smiled to see Rabastan. He still needed to think up a suitable retribution for that morning, but it could wait until he had had a cup of tea and a cuddle as he climbed onto the settee and wrapped himself around his fiancé.

“How many of those books are for recreational reading?” Xerxes teased him, looking at the Flourish and Blotts carrier bag.

Harry grinned. “A lot of them. I picked up a dozen new books.”

“Your brain is going to burst if you carry on.”

Harry laughed at that. “I wouldn’t mind that, I’d rather it bursts from accumulating knowledge than anything else.”

Harry was given a cup of tea by Rabastan, and he kissed his fiancé in thanks, slipping himself under Rabastan’s arm and resting on him. He sighed in contentment. He really hoped that the Quibbler article did enough to sway the public opinion of him. He would continue to better himself though, and hope that the article, and the lawsuit that Lucius was going to handle on his behalf while he was in school, made the public see him for who he really was and he could then carry on as he had been before this had happened. There would always be those who didn’t like him, and there would always be those now who chose to believe the Daily Prophet article over everything else, he couldn’t control that. All he could do now was to not give people any more cause to take the Prophet article as the truth, because the damage was already done, but that didn’t mean that he had to give up and let them win. If he was going down, he’d go down swinging, and then they’d all be sorry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

The Ministry party was tomorrow night, and his dress robes had arrived that morning, so that he could try them on and check the fit and the cut. They were perfect, and suited him well. Rabastan had barely been able to keep his hands to himself, which of course made Harry very happy, and rather smug too.
There was no rest for him, however, as he had so much to do between now and the first of September, which was only four days away, and a Wizengamot meeting could be called at any moment, so he always had to be prepared for that.
Despite how busy Harry was, Marcus had still bullied his way in for a visit, demanding Harry’s exam results. He smiled savagely as he saw Harry’s Outstanding mark.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” He said, clapping Harry on the back.

“After all of your threats, I didn’t dare.” Harry teased.

“You’re a competent student. I knew when I first started teaching you that you’d do well. I’m proud of you.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Marcus. I would never have been able to get through the work load, and understand it, without you.”

“You didn’t do too badly on Arithmancy and you only picked that up last year.” Marcus pointed out, but Harry got the feeling that he was deflecting attention away from himself.

Harry shook his head. “Rabastan was helping me with Arithmancy, and so was Draco. I had tutors in Arithmancy too, but you are clearly a much better tutor. You really know what you’re doing, Marcus.”

Marcus scoffed and again deflected the attention away from himself by pulling a large stack of parchment from the shoulder bag he’d brought with him.

“Sit down, we have to start on your NEWT tutoring, you go back in four days and you’ve fobbed me off with excuses for the last fortnight.”

“I really was busy, Marcus.”

“So I’ve seen in the papers.”

Harry stared at the table top, trying not to get upset or angry that the Prophet were turning those who knew him against him.

“I don’t believe a word of it.” Marcus told him. “I wouldn’t have believed it even if I hadn’t spent the last several months tutoring you personally. I’m just glad that the Quibbler article you released was more the truth, that Lord Lestrange fought your corner has helped immensely. At least in the Pureblood circles, those mudblood haters still hold the actions of his grandsons against him.”

“I noticed.” Harry said softly.

“Don’t look so worried, Lord Dawson Shacklebolt has come out in your favour, and those haters definitely listen to and respect him.”

“He did, when?” Harry asked, picking his head up.

“Yesterday allegedly, but I heard it this morning, when I was at the ministry. Everyone is more willing to believe you, and your Quibbler interview, now that Lord Shacklebolt is corroborating the story, and your version of events.”

Harry smiled.

“I thought that might cheer you up. But now, onto business, Harry. I have a fortnight’s worth of material to cover with you, and you’re back in school in four days.”

Harry sat down in front of the coffee table, and he was more than willing to sit and learn from Marcus for a few hours, despite that it was going to eat into his precious time with Rabastan. He knew now that Marcus would get him the results he wanted, so he was willing to stick with it, and put in the hard work and graft to see the results he knew would come his way. He was already missing Rabastan’s company however, but he couldn’t trust Marcus and Rabastan in the same room with one another, otherwise he might have invited Rabastan to join them. That would have been nice, but not to be due to their attitudes.
Marcus gave Harry several written tests to do, that were set out like his last exam had been…only much more difficult.

“Have you been keeping up with your practice?” Marcus asked him, watching him as Harry meticulously drew the runic answers.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I made sure I kept up with it. I might have put off our lessons, but I made sure to keep up with my practice.”

“Good.”

Marcus sat back and watched him for a while, but as soon as Harry was done with the first sheet, Marcus swooped on it and started marking it to keep himself busy.
This carried on for a while, quiet and peaceful. Harry enjoyed it, though he noticed the increase in difficulty on the questions. He assumed that this is what it meant to go into his final NEWT year, and he mentally prepared himself for the large jump he would experience once he was back in Hogwarts, and no longer on a lighter work load. It felt wonderful to be healthy, and no longer in any danger or at risk, but he was not going to enjoy being buried alive by homework.

“Good work.” Marcus told him, laying the last sheet down. “You’ve remembered everything I taught you. I want to go through every sheet with you, then we’ll move on to something more difficult, which you will be doing now that you’re a seventh year NEWT student.”

“I’m understanding more and more. I’ve been reading the books you recommended too, and they have helped a lot.”

Marcus smirked. “I told you that they would.”

“I’ve only got half a book left to read.”

“Try and get that read before you go back to school.” Marcus warned him. “I know it’s a big ask, but I have more books for you and they will be more useful for you now that you’re going into your final NEWT year.”

Harry grimaced, but he nodded. “I’ll get to that, it just means I’ll put down the recreational books that are actually interesting.”

Marcus looked offended that Harry wasn’t finding his precious runes interesting, and it made Harry chuckle.

“I like them well enough, I just have a lot of reading material to get through, and I do find certain subjects more interesting than others. Particularly law.”

Marcus gave him a knowing look. “Of course you prefer law to anything else, with how you’re ruling the Wizengamot.”

“Knowledge is key. It helps that I’m somewhat likeable too.”

“Somewhat.” Marcus echoed with a smirk.

Harry could only laugh. “Not everyone was going to like me. I’ve made my peace with that.”

“Good, it’s disgusting to suck up to people who’ll never like you, no matter what you do. I learnt that in school, I assume you did too?”

Harry smiled wryly, and thought of the Dursleys, who never gave him any praise, attention, or even acknowledgement, despite his best efforts.

“A little earlier than that. I was never desperate for everyone’s approval, I turned down friendships as much as I made them.” He answered while thinking of Draco holding out his hand and being spurned. If only he had met Draco first, perhaps the fiasco with Ron never would have happened…but then his friendship with Ron, and Hermione too, had been genuine for the years they’d been together. They had enjoyed one another’s company, had gotten on well, and yes, they’d had their bumps and fights, Harry grimaced as he thought of Ron’s jealousy over being named the second Hogwarts champion during the Triwizard tournament. Yet that didn’t mean that it hadn’t been real, right up until his adoption last year it had been a real friendship, of that he was certain. It was just a shame that his friends had thrown away what they’d had, all those years, merely because he’d been adopted into the Malfoy family and had started a political career, one which was his by birthright.

“You always were a little recluse.” Marcus smirked.

Harry snorted. “I preferred it to being fawned over for the scar on my head. I think of poor Krum now and again, and how he was followed everywhere he went by a gaggle of girls.”

“That was the year after I graduated.” Marcus reminded him.

“Oh, I forgot. There was no Quidditch that year, so I never had a reason to see, or miss you.” Harry grinned.

Marcus rolled his eyes, but pulled out more sheets of parchment, thumping them down in front of Harry. “Let’s get back down to studying. Let’s see how you do with these questions, and then we’ll go through them and see how you did. If a question is too difficult, leave it blank and I’ll walk you through it after.”

Harry nodded and started looking through some of the questions. He grimaced. This was going to take some time…and all of his concentration.
Again Marcus took the sheets as Harry finished them, marking them slowly and critically. Harry was frustrated that he had to leave several questions blank. He knew better than to guess a runic sequence when he wasn’t even fifty percent sure, Marcus had well and truly made him understand the dangers of messing with runes and some of his horror stories were gruesome enough to stop Harry from trying his hand at carving his own runic sequences, but it was still frustrating. Harry prepared himself to settle down and focus when Marcus went through these questions with him. He wanted to learn and become better.

“Right, I’m going to show you exactly where you went wrong in some of these.” Marcus told him, laying the first sheet down between them. There were a lot of red scrawls and corrections on it, and Harry felt his frustration level rise. “No, don’t get angry.” Marcus all but ordered him. “You did really well, better than I thought you would even, but you fell into the trap of most people studying runes, you’ve used the simplest runic sequence, that while it will still work, isn’t the most effective. Consider this instead.”

Harry watched critically as Marcus dipped his quill into the red ink and drew out his own runic sequence. Harry translated each rune individually, then checked it for dangerous pairs or counter-effective runes in the same sequence on automatic, as Marcus had taught him to do. He saw immediately what Marcus was trying to show him.

“Oh…oh!”

“You see?”

Harry nodded. “It would be stronger.”

Marcus nodded. “This is what you’re going to be up against in your final year now. Your answer wasn’t wrong, but neither was it the answer that Professor Babbling will be looking for. Or your examiners for that matter. You’ve gone past finding the simplest answer to each equation, now it’s time for you to look for the most effective way of pairing runes together in a sequence.”

“Can I try the sheets again?”

“I’ve brought more for you to try, for now, I’ll walk you through these ones.” Marcus insisted.

Harry was already seeing, and understanding, what Marcus had been trying to teach him. He’d come a long way from not understanding runes, or being foolish enough to accidentally place dangerous pair combos in the same sequence.
After they had gone through all of the sheets, Marcus gave Harry yet another pile to try. Going into this pile of sheets, knowing now that he was looking for more effective sequences, and not just the ‘right answer’ helped very little when it actually came down to working through the questions. It was still hard, difficult work, and Harry understood exactly why Marcus was so highly paid. He couldn’t believe that the ‘thick troll’ from Hogwarts actually understood this gibberish and was one of the country’s leading masters of Runology. It just went to prove that you truly couldn’t judge someone without first knowing them. Marcus might not know anything else, but he was a veritable genius with runes.

“You’ve done about as well as I expected.” Marcus told him two hours later, after he’d marked Harry’s answers. “There’s room for improvement though.”

“There is always room for improvement.” Harry insisted. Feeling tired and wrung out. They’d been in this ‘lesson’ for four hours already. Harry was surprised that Rabastan hadn’t come bursting in to check that nothing untoward was happening.

“For you there’s room for immediate improvement.” Marcus told him savagely. “I will accept you getting nothing but an O for your final exams. This isn’t good enough, Harry. You’re hovering around an A at the moment, but it’s a low A, almost a P, and I will not risk my reputation for a fail grade, am I clear? You will do better or you’ll find out exactly what damage I can wreak with the right runic sequence.”

Harry nodded, a trill of fear skipping down his spine as he remembered what Marcus had done to his fiancée, and the man that she had cheated on Marcus with. He’d tortured them with runes, and in the man’s case, murdered him with them. The Aurors had been unable to pin any evidence on Marcus, they couldn’t even link the ‘curse’ back to him, because he’d used runes and not a curse, and Marcus hadn’t been charged. He knew that Marcus wasn’t bluffing, and he made a stern note to himself to practice his runes before his next lesson. He was sure that if he could show an improvement, any sort of improvement, then Marcus would be pleased and wouldn’t withdraw his tutorage, or worse, kill him or torture him in some gruesome way that no one but Marcus could reverse.

“Our lesson ends here. I want to see an improvement by our next lesson or I will not be happy. Here are some more books for you to read. I don’t expect you to have read them all by our next lesson, I know how much you are taking on, but neither will I accept excuses. You take this tutoring seriously, or I’ll put an end to it.”

Harry nodded as he accepted the three books passed over to him.

“Thank you, Marcus.” Harry said softly.

Marcus grinned then, and ruffled Harry’s hair all over his head.

“You’re a bright man, there’s more intelligence in you than you realise. I’m riding you hard, but I know you can do it. You only picked up Ancient Runes a year ago, and now you’re at the NEWT level. That’s four years of learning crammed into one and you kept up, Harry. You earned your Outstanding mark in your exams, just be aware that this year is going to be the most difficult you’ve ever gone through, the work load is going to be near impossible, the difficulty is going to be brain-bursting, and I will not accept you getting anything less than an O.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll get it.”

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. I’ll accept no excuses for anything other than an O, now see me out, I’ve got my own work to complete.”

Harry led Marcus to the reception room, where the floo was located. “Thanks again for taking time from your own work to teach me, Marcus.” He said.

“Course not. It gives me bragging rights that I was the one to teach a complete novice perfectly enough for him to get Outstandings on all his exams. It helps that that novice is you too, Mister chosen one.”

Harry scowled at the name that he hated. Marcus snorted a laugh.

“I’ll see you again in a few weeks.” Marcus told him, before flooing out of Malfoy Manor.

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he felt a crushing weigh of expectation and exhaustion settle over him. His seventh and final year in Hogwarts was not going to be a nice, easy ride. He was going to have to fight for every single inch, and the thought of that exhausted him.
He carried his armful of books to the front parlour, where he assumed Rabastan was waiting for him. He didn’t expect to see Rabastan being all but held down by Rodolphus.

“What’s going on?” He asked, quickly putting the books on the coffee table and hurrying to his fiancé. His mind was filled with terror, wondering if Rabastan was ill, or if he’d had a setback in his recovery.

“Harry.” Rabastan called out, fighting off Rodolphus’ hold and reaching forward to yank Harry into his arms and up beside him on the settee.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Harry asked desperately.

“You’re scaring him.” Xerxes chastised Rabastan harshly. “There is no need for this display!”

“Will someone tell me what is going on?!” Harry demanded.

“He didn’t like that your lesson was taking so long.” Rodolphus told him. “Twice he’s gotten up to go and disturb you, and twice I’ve had to prevent him.”

Harry closed his eyes and deflated a little, exhaling slowly to keep himself calm.

“Why did it take you over four hours?” Rabastan asked him, an edge of anger to his voice. “What tutoring session takes that long?”

“We had a double lesson today.” Harry explained as patiently as he could. “I’d put off the tutoring for a fortnight because I was so busy with other things, so Marcus demanded a longer lesson this time, to make up for it, in light of me entering my final year. I’m not going to pass if I don’t put in the effort, and Marcus refuses to carry on teaching me if I stay at the level I’m at now. He told me I was on a borderline P. A fucking P, Rabastan! I won’t stand for it, and neither will he. I have to put in the time, because I refuse to get anything other than an Outstanding in my exams, do you understand me?”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing ever happens, it’s all in your head!”

Rabastan looked furious, Harry was furious, but then a miracle happened, and Rabastan released all the tension in his body and reached out to pull Harry into a hug. Confused, but pleased that the aggression was gone, Harry sunk into the hug.

“I’m sorry.” His fiancé told him. “I’m working on it, I promise, but I missed you.”

Knocked off his stride, Harry didn’t really know how to react to this sudden change, but he was willing to acknowledge Rabastan’s efforts, if this is truly what it was, and not just a cheap ploy. He’d soon find out, if it kept happening and Rabastan didn’t actually make any progress or changes. For now he was willing to accept it at face value, as he had no way to test it until it came time for another tutoring session with Marcus.

“It makes me happy to know that you’re working on this unfounded jealousy.”

Rabastan pulled back to kiss Harry’s forehead, and it brought a goofy smile to his face.

“You’re both sickening.” Rodolphus told them. “Squabbling and arguing like children, and then engaging in whatever this is.” He said, waving a hand at them to show he meant their closeness and tender behaviour.

“I like being sickening.” Harry declared. “Especially if it makes you extra uncomfortable. It’s my goal in life to be so sickening that it forces you to leave the room.”

“You’re not allowed to be that sickening, it’s against tradition.” Rodolphus growled at him.

“That isn’t going to be an excuse forever.” Harry pointed out. “We’ll be married this time next year.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Rodolphus told him, glaring at him and his younger brother.

“Challenge accepted.” Harry said lightly, turning back to Rabastan, dismissing Rodolphus.

“Rodolphus!” Xerxes called out warningly. Harry paid no attention to the elder Lestrange brother.

“Did you learn a lot?” Rabastan asked him, watching as Harry squinted and rubbed his forehead, a clear sign that he had a headache.

“Tons. I also have a clearer picture of what to expect in this coming year. I’m still upset that Marcus told me I’m doing this level of work at a P grade. I hate the very thought of it, and imagining opening my exam results to see a P is going to give me nightmares.”

“You have time to improve.” Rabastan insisted.

Harry nodded. “I just hope I improve quickly, before Marcus decides that enough is enough and refuses to tutor me anymore. Then I can only expect a T.”

Rabastan scoffed. “You’re at a P now, you won’t forget the things you already know, so a P is the baseline. I know that you will improve the longer you put your mind to it.”

“I hope so. I can’t deal with the shame of failing my exams.”

“You’re not going to fail.” Rabastan told him seriously, and with a lot more certainty than Harry currently felt. He knew the difficulty of all his lessons would increase this year, more so for him than for anyone else, because he’d been on a decreased workload due to his severe illness last year. Harry could only hope that he could keep up.

“Let’s talk about something else. My brain is mush from that tutoring session, I don’t want to talk about lessons and school anymore.”

Rabastan nodded and moved their conversation away of anything to do with school, his tutoring, his law reforms, and most particularly the wedding planning…anything and everything that might make Harry upset, or cause his headache to worsen. They kept things light, and Rabastan brought up the one subject that he knew would make Harry smile again…baby names.

“I don’t know, Basti, I think Crustaceous Lestrange has a nice ring to it.” Harry teased.

“That is not how Pureblood naming works.” Rabastan laughed.

“You’re telling me that, but the evidence speaks for itself. Look at Cantankerus Nott, you can’t tell me his name isn’t a play on cantankerous.”

“I’m not naming my child, my firstborn son, Crustaceous.”

“But we could call him Crabby for short!” Harry actually giggled. “If he takes after you and his uncle Dolphus for temperament then it’ll be the perfect name.”

“No, Harry.” Rabastan denied, still chuckling.

“Spoilsport. I had it all worked out.”

Rabastan looked at his fiancé fondly, holding him tight to his side. It was going to be hell surviving yet another school year without him. He had missed him dreadfully last year, while Harry was in school, and he knew that this year would be worse, as Harry and he were closer now than ever before. He would see him only briefly, and infrequently, through this coming year. Christmas and Easter were about all he could expect, he wouldn’t put it past Harry to stay during some of the mere week long breaks to catch up on school work, and his personal work too. He wouldn’t hold that against Harry, no matter how much he would miss him, and would want to see him again.
Rabastan kissed the side of Harry’s head and he smiled as his fiancé turned to smile up at him with loving eyes. He was willing to support Harry’s dreams, even if it meant not seeing him at every opportunity. He would just have to make sure that these next three days, all they had left before September, were as perfect and as wonderful as he could make them.

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Harry was startled out of his skin when he was getting ready for bed and Kreacher appeared out of nowhere behind him.

“Holy fucking Merlin!” Harry cried out, laying a hand on his chest, breathing heavily. “Kreacher, what is it?”

“Master told Kreacher to report after Order meetings.” Kreacher told him.

Harry, now calming down, realised that he needed to find a better way to get Kreacher to report to him, seeing as one of these days he would get a heart attack for his trouble. He nodded and he led Kreacher out to his living room, and he sat them both in front of the cold fireplace, on his fluffy rug.

“What were they saying, Kreacher?”

“They is being trying to force you to fight this next year, with potions.”

That alarmed Harry greatly, that Dumbledore would resort to drugging him and forcing him to fight.

“What did Remus say about this?” He asked softly, to try and distract his mind from the panic that wanted to take it over.

“He was not there. It was a meeting of only five people, master.”

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Dumbledore, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Severus Snape.” Kreacher reported dutifully. Harry had made him learn all of the names of the Order, and to listen out for new names, in place of the scathing, disparaging insults that Kreacher had used previously to describe the people in his mistress’ home.

Harry breathed in hard. He wondered if Snape would tell his father, he wondered if Snape was here already, or perhaps reporting to Voldemort first now that the meeting was over.

“Did they plan to have a house elf taint my food while I’m at school?”

“The headmaster could do it.” Kreacher insisted. “But they agreed it was too dangerous. It was planned for the train, before you even reached the school, master.”

Harry always bought some sweets on the train, usually chocolate frogs, and he always, always, bought a bottle or two of pumpkin juice. If the witch who had charge of the trolley gave him a ‘special’ bottle of pumpkin juice put aside just for him, or worse, she was cursed to do it, then he could be doused very easily.

“So it has come to this.” He said quietly to himself. Being forced to fight, to give up his freedom, and perhaps his very life, for a war he had been born into. He had made his stance very clear, that he didn’t want to fight, and still they were going to force him to fight. Talking him into it hadn’t worked, neither had appealing to his sense of justice and fairness, guilting him into fighting hadn’t worked, so now the last resort…potions to alter his mind set to force him to fight when they knew full well that he didn’t want to.

“Thank you, Kreacher. Please keep listening to them, and find out what they’re planning. They need to be stopped.”

Kreacher nodded, and left, and Harry headed to his door and went to find his father. He had come to bed early, so that he could get a good night’s sleep ahead of the Ministry party tomorrow evening. He knew that his family would still be awake.
A quick, intense burst of pain seared through his forehead, which let him know that Voldemort was angry…so Snape had reported to him first. Well, he would likely be ordered to come and tell Lucius, and the Lestranges, so that they could look out for him being doused. It wasn’t needed as he already knew.
There must have been something on his face, something to let his family know that he was furious, as they looked around as the door opened, and then they stood quickly. Lucius hurried straight to him, as did Rabastan and Xerxes.

“What is it, were you sent another vision by the Dark Lord?” Rodolphus asked, almost eagerly.

“No, though you will be hearing from him soon, though perhaps not directly.” Harry said.

“Are you hurt?” Narcissa asked, coming over now it seemed that Harry was in control of himself, and his emotions.

“No. I’m just angry.”

“What has made you feel this way if you didn’t oversee something from the Dark Lord?” Lucius asked him.

“I have a spy on the Order of the Phoenix.” He said bluntly, and if he weren’t so angry he would have found amusement in the shocked, disbelieving looks being sent to him.

“Is it that half-breed wolf?” Rodolphus asked him.

Harry levelled a poisonous glare at Rodolphus.

“Do not speak of Remus that way, Rodolphus. I’m already angry, and I’m not above throwing a curse at you.”

“Is it…Remus?” Xerxes asked, hesitating just enough over his name that Harry turned his glare to him.

“I’m not going to reveal the identity of my spy, but it’s not Remus. He wasn’t invited to this meeting, only five people were there, including Dumbledore.”

“What do they plan to do, Harry?” Narcissa asked him, trying to steer the conversation back onto more important details.

“Dumbledore has finally gotten tired of trying to talk me around. He’s going to slip me a potion to force me to fight in the war.”

“You’re not foolish enough to accept anything he gives you.” Lucius pointed out.

“The house elves in the kitchens are forbidden from tampering with any food also.” Xerxes added. “Even the Headmaster couldn’t order it and avoid questioning later.”

“He plans to do it on the Hogwarts Express, before I even reach the school. I always buy something from the snack trolley, and I always buy pumpkin juice as well. If they have reached this last resort, then we must believe them capable of anything, perhaps even cursing the trolley witch to slip me a tainted bottle, or a spiked chocolate frog.”

“I will buy your snacks the day before you leave.” Narcissa insisted fiercely, a dangerous glint in her eye at hearing one of her sons was at risk. “You and Draco will take them with you, and you will not buy anything from the trolley.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s a matter of time now that they’ve decided to go with their last resort. They’re going to find a way to get those potions into me, I can’t go a whole year being afraid to eat and drink.”

“I will research immunity potions, or spells.” Xerxes said. “I know I’ve read something about it, I just have to remember where.”

“We only have three days.” Rabastan said, sounding rather choked, clutching Harry tightly to himself. “It won’t be long enough to research anything, or implement it. I refuse to lose you to potions!”

“You won’t.” Harry assured him, smiling gently. “Dumbledore won’t win, not in this. Not in anything.”

“If he manages to douse you once, and can keep that up…”

“How can he? I am the legal ward of the Malfoy family, no matter what I say, or anyone else says, nothing will change that until I graduate. As soon as I’m pulled from school, and detoxed, I’ll be myself again, and I can accuse Dumbledore of malpractice.”

“We will not risk it.” Lucius said firmly. “Accept nothing from anyone, am I clear? Even if Draco hands it to you.”

“You don’t think they would curse Draco, do you?” Narcissa demanded, a note of worry in her tone that both of her sons might be targeted in this little plot.

“As Harry has said, we must believe them capable of anything.” Lucius insisted. “If his original plan does not work, then we must assume that Draco could be used against his will to get to Harry.”

Harry hated the thought that he would be putting Draco in danger, and his fist clenched tight as his anger swelled. Why couldn’t Dumbledore just leave him alone? Though he knew exactly why, he’d been told why. He was a Horcrux, a piece of the puzzle keeping Voldemort rooted to life. In order for Dumbledore to rid the world of Voldemort, he, Harry, had to be killed.

‘You can be left until last.’ Dumbledore’s words echoed through his head, chilling him, and the swell of despair threatened to overcome him, before he inhaled deeply, and calmed his breathing. It wouldn’t happen. Regardless of how hard Dumbledore and his Order tried, he would not follow blindly down the path that had been set out for him to walk.

“How do we protect them both?” Narcissa demanded. “I won’t stand to have my sons put in such danger, Lucius. Perhaps the Dark Lord can help, he must know a way to protect them.”

“We cannot just walk up and ask this of him.” Rodolphus cut in.

“He wishes for Harry to be protected at all times.” Rabastan argued. “He might want to be informed of this.”

“He already has been.” Harry interrupted, before the argument got any more heated. “Snape was at the meeting, probably because he would be the one asked to brew the potions to control me. He’s already gone to Voldemort, I felt it.”

“The Dark Lord will know what to do.” Rodolphus insisted firmly. “He will send Snape with orders.”

Lucius nodded his agreement. “I’m sure that he will. Harry, it might be best if you went to bed, I will inform you of what has happened in the morning.”

“This is my life, my mind, that is being played with, I deserve to hear what is going to be done about it.”

“This will require time, Harry. The Dark Lord will not have an immediate answer to this issue, we will likely be ordered to find a way to protect you, while he does the same. Severus will be coming to inform us about the Order meeting, as no one knew that you had your own spy. The Dark Lord will assume that we don’t know of what has transpired, and thus Severus will be coming merely to inform us about it, with the order to help you and keep you safe.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that logic, yet it didn’t stop him from being annoyed. He’d wanted an early night, if he waited to greet Snape then not only would it be very late, he would also risk Kreacher being found and stopped from spying.

“Okay, I’ll go to bed, but do not tell Snape about my spy, act as if this is the first you’re hearing of this news. I will not have my own spy network threatened, or shut down, because of Snape.”

Lucius nodded. “Agreed. Now, up to bed with you. Tomorrow will be a rather busy day, and I’m sure Draco will drag you off for an hour or two to make sure that you’re presentable enough for the get-together.”

Harry groaned then, knowing that Lucius was right, and that he would be made to play dress up for Draco, who would fuss and faff around him, and particularly his hair, until Harry was suitably dressed and groomed.
Rabastan chuckled at his theatrics, and not caring that all eyes were on them, Harry gave Rabastan a lingering kiss.

“Get yourself some rest.” Rabastan told him. “We will figure this out for you. I won’t lose you.”

Harry smiled and reached up to give Rabastan another kiss, this one a shorter peck on the lips, before he left the parlour and went back to his bedroom. Sleep was not going to be easy coming, he already knew. His mind was racing, and it was going to take him some time to settle down enough to fall sleep. He had a lot to think about, a lot to be angry about, and a lot to work out.
He had just three days before he would be travelling to London, and then boarding the Hogwarts Express for his final year. He didn’t have the luxury of time, yet neither would he accept that there was nothing that he could do.
He climbed into his bed and sat considering this latest predicament seriously. He didn’t know of anything that could protect against potions, but Xerxes had definitely seemed certain that there was a way to make him immune to their effects, and he had to trust that Xerxes knew what he was doing, especially as he was something of a specialist when it came to rare and obscure curses.
That made Harry think to Marcus, a specialist in Runology. Harry frowned to himself as he considered that maybe there was a sequence of runes that could be used to make him immune to potions, or at least nullify their effects to some extent. He made a mental note to floo call Marcus early tomorrow morning. At the least it would make him feel like he was doing something, and not just waiting for others to come to his rescue.
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A/N: Here we are, lovelies, our second update of August. I’m thinking that next week I will be jumping over to Iron-Bound Commitment, as I don’t have another chapter for this fic yet, but we’ll see how it goes.
I believe that this was all, lovelies, I will hopefully be seeing you again soon, but if not, don’t fret I’ve just gone back to The Antlered Lion. I will always come back to this fic regardless of how long it takes though, so maybe a week, maybe a couple of months but I’ll come back eventually, I always do,

StarLight Massacre. X
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The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir