Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 104291 -:- 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
- 28
- 29
- 30
Last Time

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.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Ministry Mishaps

Marcus had listened to Harry talk with a dark scowl on his face, his eyebrows furrowed almost into a single line, but he didn’t interrupt.

“…so really I was just wondering if there were any runic sequences that could prevent the potion used from taking effect, or perhaps just make it milder, so I don’t feel it as much?” Harry finished softly.

It was barely five in the morning, but Harry knew Marcus woke up at this time to get ready for work on Fridays, so that he could finish earlier to start his weekend, so this was his best chance of getting a hold of Marcus, without waiting all day when the time he had was limited. It also helped that today was the Ministry party, so all those who were in work today were on half days anyway.

“Do not try anything by yourself.” Was Marcus’ immediate warning.

“I won’t.” He insisted, shaking his head for emphasis. “That’s why I’m asking you. Xerxes thinks that there’s a spell that can nullify the effects of potions, but he needs time to find it, but if it’s not quite what we need, well…” Harry trailed off. He shook his head again. “I’m going back to Hogwarts in three days, Marcus. I need to keep myself safe, so I’m trying everything, and asking everyone I can. I trust you.” He added softly.

“Leave it with me. I’ll spend my day researching for you, but I can’t guarantee anything. I’ve never seen any sequence that prevents potions from working, not if it’s been ingested.”

“I understand.” Harry said. “I know it’s a longshot, but I need to try, I can’t just do nothing. I can’t just let this happen.”

“I’ll go in early now, and I’ll floo over in the afternoon so make sure that you’re there. I don’t want to do it at that stupid party, just in case we’re overheard.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Marcus. So much.”

Marcus looked a bit uncomfortable, but he nodded and then cut the connection. Harry pulled his head from the fire and checked himself for soot.
He needed a distraction, or he was going to drive himself mad thinking of this, so he picked up his family portfolios and went to the dining room to spread them out over the table. He was the only one awake at this hour, but it wouldn’t be long before everyone else was getting up to start the day. His parents, Lucius in particular, always came down for breakfast at about six.
The portfolios were thick, and rather tedious, but Harry had gotten used to looking at them, and he was in the habit of checking on them every morning before breakfast. Nothing seemed amiss, nothing caught his eye or made him suspicious, so he closed the portfolios and instead opened a book. This was boring too, but he was more able to deal with it as it was something that he knew he needed to do to better himself. He was not doing well with the book recommended to him by the Law Enforcer from Flourish and Blotts, as he was having difficulty translating it, thus he judged it too early in the morning for that, instead he was reading a different law book, one actually written in modern English, that he could actually understand without the use of a translating dictionary.

“You are up exceedingly early, Harry. I hope that the issue from last night didn’t keep you from sleep.” Lucius greeted him.

Harry nodded and looked up at his father. “It’s not so much that it kept me from sleep, only that I had someone in mind to ask for help, and I had to get up early to do so.”

“Who did you ask?” Lucius asked worriedly.

“Marcus. I’ve learnt that runes have a lot of uses, some of them very unexpected. I thought that I could ask to see if he knew of any sequences that could help.”

“I see. And did he have an insights?”

Harry shook his head. “Not off the top of his head, but he’s going to do some research all day in work and then visit in the afternoon. At the very least it’s something that could help. Did Snape have anything to say?”

“He has been ordered to make the potion as requested. It would put him, and his position of a spy, at risk if he purposefully botched the potion. Dumbledore would never believe that he had made a mistake on it by accident.”

Harry sighed, and closed his book. He’d come to the same conclusion. He was an important little piece of Voldemort’s puzzle now that it had emerged that he was actually a Horcrux, but he was only important as an ‘anchor’ to keep Voldemort alive and kicking, and it wasn’t even as if he was the only Horcrux left, he wasn’t. He was not vital to the war effort like Snape was as a spy. So he had realised, while thinking of this issue last night, that in this situation that Snape would be more important, more useful, to Voldemort than he was, and he understood that this meant that resolving the situation wasn’t as simple as having Snape mess up the potion used to douse him.

“I figured that that would be the case, that’s why I’m seeking out ways to nullify the potion’s effects. If Xerxes can’t find a spell or a curse to help, then I thought that maybe Marcus could find a runic sequence to help.”

“It is a good idea, I’m proud of you for taking this so well.”

Harry shook his head. “What else can I do? These sorts of disasters are going to plague me, whether it’s the Daily Prophet slandering me, or becoming the target for Dumbledore’s little ploys to get me back on his side of the war. I’m never going to be left alone, I can’t escape from it, and a lot of that is due to this.” He said, raising his hand to press his fingers against the lightning bolt scar.

Harry sighed and shook himself from the feelings of hopelessness and rage.

“It’s something I’ve gotten used to over the years that I’ve been a part of the magical world, and I’m always going to be a topic for speculation when people get bored of the current crisis of the day. Especially now I’ve essentially entered into a slanging match with the Daily Prophet.”

“You will leave them to me. As your father, it is my duty to protect you from such things.”

“I’m an adult, and a Lord.” Harry pointed out.

“Not in this.” Lucius said firmly. “You are still in school, and I will not have your studies interrupted to fight a legal battle on top of everything else that you’re taking on. You are not yet graduated, and until you are, I can still fight your legal battles for you. In fact it will look better all-around if I am the one to do it.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he stopped to think about it first. Did he really want to add a court case to his ever-growing list of things he already had to juggle? Did he really want to have meetings with lawyers and handle a court case, if it went that far, by himself when Lucius could easily handle it for him? The answer was no. He really didn’t want to add that to the list that he already had growing and multiplying with every project he added.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” Harry asked.

Lucius looked at him proudly, giving a smug smirk, and Harry tried to ignore that it was aimed at him, or he was going to do something ridiculously embarrassing, like bursting out into tears, or squirming in happy delight.

“I’m going to insist that I am the one to handle this, Harry. I don’t mind, in fact it will brighten up a rather dull routine that I have fallen into of late.”

Harry grinned at that, but he and Lucius were distracted by Xerxes coming into the room, already dressed for work, but he stopped behind Harry and dropped a kiss to his head which made Harry smile goofily, before carrying onto his seat.

“How are you this morning, Harry?”

“Fine. We were just talking about last night, and what Snape said.”

“It’s unfortunate that we have to play this situation carefully.” Xerxes sighed, looking as regretful as he sounded. “None of us want to put you at risk, nor risk having you controlled via a potion, but we can see the logic behind the orders. You can as well?” He directed at Harry.

Harry nodded simply.

“Good. I would hate for you to think we didn’t care about you, because we most certainly do, but we need to find a different way of handling this, other than having Severus botch his potion and potentially being found out as a spy.”

“I know, I understand that. It’s too simple a solution for this mess. It’s better if I find a spell, or something similar, to protect myself from the potion, and then claim I’ve been using it for the last year.”

Xerxes nodded his approval. “That is what we had decided as well. I will do my best to find something to help.”

“I got up early to ask Marcus if there might not be an obscure rune, or a sequence, that could help too. I can trust him to help.”

Lucius and Xerxes shared a look, likely because Marcus was a Death Eater and would be obligated to help considering Harry was now off limits to them, but Harry didn’t know that for sure, nor did he care. He just didn’t want his own mind to be messed around with by potions and he would ask anyone he thought he could ask for help, without Dumbledore finding out that he had a spy on the Order, because Snape would be the most likely suspect, and that would put Harry back on Voldemort’s shit list.
Rabastan was his distraction, as he came into the dining room and made a beeline for Harry.

“Have you told him?” He asked his grandfather and Lucius.

“He’s well abreast of the situation, Basti.” Xerxes insisted. “He’s even seeking out other avenues of help. We all know he’s an intelligent young man.”

“You’re alright?” Rabastan asked him, sitting beside him and reaching out for Harry’s hand, which he freely gave over to his fiancé.

Harry nodded. “Perfectly fine, Rabastan. I was of course upset and angry at hearing that someone, anyone, is planning to change me with potions, but I’m not going to let it happen. I will delay their plan as much as possible, until a solution is found. I’ll get Draco to floo call if I start changing my behaviour. He’s in the best position to do so, then I can be pulled from school and I’ll be safe.”

Rabastan kissed his cheek, and Harry turned to kiss him properly. He smiled softly to see the worry in Rabastan’s dark blue eyes.

“Don’t fret over things that haven’t happened yet.” Harry said softly.

“I can’t help it.”

Harry nodded. “I know, and if the shoe were on the other foot, and it was you at risk of being doused with potions, I would be pissed too. I just don’t want this to affect what little time we have left, nor dominate the conversation when we’ll be apart for most of the year in just three days.”

“I can understand that.” Rabastan told him, stroking a hand through Harry’s hair gently. “No more talk of it just yet, then.”

That was why Harry had come to love Rabastan. Harry could see that he was worried about the situation, that he wanted to talk about it, just to try and keep a plan of action, but Rabastan was willing to put that to the side in order to indulge him, because Harry didn’t want to talk about it.

“How are you feeling about the Ministry party later?”

“I’m not looking forward to it.” Harry admitted. “I’m not really the social butterfly kind of person. I’m more the wall moth who likes to crawl into the darkest crevice and hide.”

Rabastan laughed loudly, and gave him a real grin that brought out an answering goofy grin from Harry. He loved seeing Rabastan being truly amused, especially as his fiancé had had little to be happy about over the course of his life. Harry hoped that he’d be able to keep Rabastan happy, and keep him laughing, for the rest of their lives together.

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

The morning passed so slowly that it felt almost like torture. Draco had been told about what had happened, and he was worried and visibly stressed. Harry hated that he was affecting Draco so much. He had enough to worry about going into his final year, without adding Harry potentially becoming Dumbledore’s plaything to the list as well.
Rabastan was also stressed and visibly seething. He wanted to kill someone, Harry could see it. It didn’t help that Rodolphus was fanning the flames by making a list of people to ‘punish’ and then kill for making Harry a target. Top of that list was, of course, Dumbledore, and Rodolphus was going into exact, painstaking detail of just how he would torture and kill everyone on that list.
All it was doing was winding Rabastan up, to the point where it was making him tense and angry, and unable to hold a conversation, which affected Harry too, and that put Harry into a really bad mood because this was exactly what he didn’t want happening. He had precious little time with Rabastan left as it was, and now it was being tainted by the axe that was hanging over them.
Harry was almost glad when Marcus flooed to the manor, just after midday, as Harry really needed a break from the tension. Unfortunately Marcus was going to be a breaker for Rabastan too, who was going to want someone, anyone, to be his target, and he hated Marcus, which made him a very convenient target indeed.

“How was your morning?” Harry asked politely, under the stern gaze of his mother. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Marcus gave him a smirk, knowing exactly what was going on, but Marcus had never been polite a day in his life, and was always blunt and abrasive.

“No, we’ll cut straight to the point.”

Harry nodded. “Did you find anything?” He asked, trying not to sound as utterly desperate as he felt.

“I did, but it’s not exactly what you were looking for.”

“What…what will it do?” Harry asked, trying to keep his composure.

“The sequence will significantly weaken the effects of any potion that you directly ingest.”

“I’m no longer taking daily potions for my health, and I can handle a headache without the use of potions. This is better than nothing, surely?” Harry asked, looking at Lucius, Narcissa, and Xerxes, and then over to Rabastan sat beside him, and Rodolphus on the other side of his fiancé.

“We have nothing else.” Lucius announced. “Even if it was used temporarily, until something more complete could be found, it would be helpful.”

“There’s a catch.” Marcus admitted.

“There always is.” Harry sighed. “What’s the catch?”

“The sequence has to be carved into your throat. It will hurt.”

“Will it be visible?” Harry asked, immediately thinking of his plan to say he’d been using the method for the last year. He could hardly do that if he suddenly started sporting runes carved into his neck.

“It will involve an extra rune, but I can make it invisible.” Marcus told him.

“You’re not going to carve anything into him!” Rabastan said angrily, reaching out to hold Harry tighter to his chest.

Harry sighed heavily. “Rabastan, which would you rather, me having runes carved into my skin to keep me safe, or me losing control of my body, of my thoughts and actions, because I was drugged with a potion?”

“We still have time to check. He could carve anything into you, and you wouldn’t know it.”

“I hold Harry as a friend.” Marcus said angrily, glaring at Rabastan. “He has asked for my help, and I have found something to help him. Unfortunately most runic sequences have to be carved onto the object they need to affect, in this case Harry himself.”

“You can be pulled from Hogwarts the moment you start displaying signs of being under the effects of potions.” Rabastan told him.

Harry frowned at Rabastan. “Think instead of the things I might be forced to admit to before that point, Rabastan. Imagine the information Dumbledore could get from me if he asked for it while I was under the influence of a potion. If he asked about Aceline, I would put you at risk. I’d put Rodolphus and your grandfather at risk, and I would put Voldemort and myself at risk too. All it would take was one mention that I had met Voldemort face to face, that I had told him about that lovely little secret Dumbledore was holding so closely to his chest, and that’s it, I would be eliminated, perhaps even on the spot.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Lucius murmured worriedly.

“If Marcus has found a way, even just slightly, of allowing me to keep control of myself, and my damn mouth, then I need to take that option, Rabastan.” Harry said, before turning to Marcus. “How long will it take to carve the runes?”

“As long as is needed.” Marcus told him firmly. “I won’t rush while I am carving runes into your neck, Harry.”

Harry nodded his understanding. “The pain mentioned, will it be like a tattoo, or…”

“More like I’m branding you with red hot metal.”

Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Okay, I can handle that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have a very high pain tolerance.” Harry admitted.

“I don’t care how high you think your pain threshold is, this isn’t going to be like anything you’ve ever had done to you before. I’m already going to be putting you under a body bind to keep you still.” Marcus told him.

“There’s no need for that.”

“There is.” Marcus told him sternly. “I told you that you never mess around with runes, Harry. If you so much as shift your weight this could go very wrong, with dire consequences. You will be under a body bind, or I will refuse to do this.”

Harry closed his eyes, but he was intelligent enough to realise that he needed to do this, that he needed Marcus’ help, thus he had to put himself under Marcus’ stipulated conditions.

“Okay.” Harry said. “You can do as you see fit, as long as I am protected from Dumbledore.”

Marcus nodded. “The floor is best.”

“Can he not even be on a bed?” Narcissa asked worriedly.

“Beds are too soft, they move, Mother.” Harry said. “I won’t move if I’m flat on the floor.”

“The sooner we start this, the better. We both have to attend the Ministry party tonight, and you will need time to recover.”

Harry nodded and stood. He went to a free area of the floor and happily laid himself down.

“Are you comfortable like that?” Rabastan asked, coming with him and kneeling beside him, taking his hand and Harry couldn’t help smiling.

“Not really, but I’ll endure it.”

“Are you going to be able to prevent yourself from getting in my way?” Marcus demanded of Rabastan.

“I’m here for Harry, nothing else.” Rabastan growled.

“Please don’t fight over my head. If I have to have runes carved into my damn neck, you can be civil for as long as it takes.”

“Of course.” Rabastan told him immediately, all but clutching Harry’s hand.

Harry closed his eyes and pretended that he was just trying to drift off to sleep. He relaxed all of his muscles, even when Marcus moved his head to the side and arched his neck for him, exposing his throat. Then the full body bind washed over him and he froze solid, every muscle locked how it had been, and every cell in his body wanted to fight off the effects. Harry tried not to panic as he felt himself become a living statue, he had to force himself to not fight the curse like he did when under the Imperius curse, and it was so very difficult to force himself to relax, to just allow this to happen. He focused intently on Rabastan’s hand holding his own, gently touching and stroking him. He could still feel, he just couldn’t move.
Marcus started straight away, and Harry would have certainly jumped out of his skin without the body bind curse, as it felt like a red hot knife was being plunged into his skin and sliced, excruciatingly slowly, into different shapes.
He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but he was held in a sort of terrible stasis, where he was awake and aware, but he couldn’t move an inch, he couldn’t even squeeze Rabastan’s hand for comfort. He had to just lie there, feeling every miniscule slice that Marcus made, and every second felt like an eternity.
He tried to occupy his mind, tried to think of several other things, his law reforms, the book he was trying to translate, he even thought about his wedding, and the first time he would get to have sex with Rabastan. Anything to keep his mind from the agonising pain he was locked into.

“Are you almost done?” Rabastan demanded.

“Do not rush runes.” Marcus growled back. “It’s dangerous to rush. I could kill him with a single, small misshapen rune. Just sit and hold his hand, and do not distract me.”

Harry would have one hundred percent backed Marcus up if he had been able to make any sort of noise at all. But he couldn’t, all he could do was lie there, his eyes closed, his body frozen, as he felt a million daggers carving into his flesh, because the runes were not just skin deep, no, they were going right down, through tissue and muscle, and it felt like Marcus was carving them right into his very bones, ripping and tearing at any flesh that got in the way in the process.
He could feel Rabastan holding his hand though. He could feel Marcus’ hand on his throat, as the other held the wand that was carving runes. Harry lost all perception of time, it could have been ten minutes, or another several hours, but Marcus did eventually pull away from him, and he removed the body bind curse immediately once he was done.
Rabastan had pulled Harry up into his arms before Harry even realised that it was over. He was trembling so badly that it was almost convulsions.

“How are you feeling?” Rabastan asked him, brushing a hand over his face and through his sweat soaked hair.

Harry just shook his head. He didn’t think he could even open his mouth, he couldn’t make any sort of noise, his throat was a red-hot agony, burning, aching. He couldn’t even take a potion to get rid of the pain, because thanks to the runes now carved into his flesh, the damn thing wouldn’t work.

“The pain will eventually wear off.” Marcus told him, standing from the floor. “I will continue to look for something more specialised to what you need, so that you can take a headache reliever, but any mind altering potions won’t work, but this is all I could find on such short notice.”

“We are more than grateful to you, Marcus.” Narcissa said genuinely.

Marcus nodded, and Lucius went to see him out, while Harry curled up into a ball in Rabastan’s arms and tried to remember to breathe. The shaking was not lessening.
Rodolphus was there, to help his brother to his feet, and Rabastan carried Harry to the settee, laying Harry down gently before sitting on the edge to be close to him.

“Perhaps some cold water will help? Or warm tea?” Narcissa asked. “Pimsey!”

The little house elf popped into the room. “Mistress called for…”

“Fetch cold water and warm tea for Harry.” Narcissa snapped at the poor creature.

Harry tried to force himself to talk, but all that came out was a garbled mess of a pained grunt.

“Can you look at me, Harry?” Rabastan asked him.

Harry peeled his eyes open, and looked to Rabastan.

“I know that you will be in pain, but can you take a drink for me?”

Harry reached out for the glass of water, and he drained it in several large, hard swallows. It did very little to dull the pain, so he grasped for the warm tea, and tried sipping on it instead, hoping that that worked.

“Think…think…have to wait…wait it out.” Harry garbled, fighting the urge to clamp his hands around his own neck. That wouldn’t help either.

Rabastan stroking his head and back was helping him though, as Harry forced himself to turn, and he curled up in his fiancé’s lap.

“Don’t stop.” Harry whined when Rabastan paused his actions.

Rabastan immediately started stroking his head and back again, and Harry relaxed slightly. The trembling lessened to a quiver.

“This will at least keep him safer.” Xerxes said.

Harry blinked and opened his eyes, to see Rabastan grinding his teeth and scowling. He wasn’t happy about this.

“We could have found a different way. One where Harry wasn’t harmed.”

“We didn’t have the time, Basti.” Xerxes sighed. “He is protected now, as well as he can be. We will not stop looking for another way, but until we find something that works, this is the best we have.”

“Best way.” Harry forced out of his raw throat. It felt like it had been shredded by a thousand claws. “Needed…something. Anything.”

“Don’t speak.” Rabastan urged him. “Wait until your throat feels a little better.”

“Is it visible?”

“The runes aren’t.” Rabastan told him. “But your throat is very red and inflamed.”

Harry nodded minimally. He’d had an idea that it might be. He cuddled back into Rabastan, and wondered how in the hell he was going to endure the Ministry party, which started in just four hours, when he felt like he couldn’t even open his mouth, and he could barely speak.
It had had to be done, however. Dumbledore could very well be at this party, and if he found an opportunity to spike him, Harry couldn’t take the chance that Dumbledore might actually do just that. He would need to be on high alert, and now that he was feeling like complete and utter shit, he could well imagine he was going to get a headache that he couldn’t get rid of, (especially as he couldn’t even take potions for it anymore) from this night, and that put him in a bad mood before he even arrived at this damn get-together, but it was needed, and it was crucial for him and his desires. The things he did, and put himself through, just to raise his political profile.

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

Harry was feeling unsettled as he was forced to wear a brand new pair of dress robes that had been delivered via owl the day before. The Ministry party was tonight, and truthfully, if his parents weren’t coming, along with Xerxes, then Harry might have called it quits and not bothered going at all. He didn’t tell anyone that, he kept it to himself, because he knew what the reaction to that bit of perceived cowardice would have been, but he still wasn’t as excited for this get-together as he’d been before that Daily Prophet article had been released four days ago. There was no guarantee that the Quibbler article had changed anyone’s mind about him, and he knew that his political rivals would use the Prophet article to their advantage, and he was going to have to fend off questions, snide comments, and cleverly disguised quips all throughout this party. Unfortunately Harry didn’t feel like he was in the right state of mind to do such things tonight, not after having runes carved into his neck just a few short hours ago.
He’d been furious when that article had been published, and publishing his own version of events in the Quibbler had calmed him down a little, but it felt more like stretching a plaster over an open wound. The worst part was that there was nothing that he could do about it. He’d done as much as he could, and even then he knew that it wasn’t enough, there would be those who took ruthless advantage of this situation to kick him while he was down, and he was going to have to face some of those people tonight under the guise of such a polite, and civilised, little party. It was going to be much worse for him as well considering he had gotten Fudge fired, and had triggered an election. Fudge might not have been entirely competent, but he’d had his friends and supporters within the Ministry too.

“You look worried.” Rabastan told him, even as he fixed a pair of his own cufflinks on Harry’s shirt for him.

“I suppose I am worried. Tonight is going to be difficult.” Harry sighed, opening up to Rabastan, and trusting in his fiancé, and hoping that he wouldn’t sneer at him, or call him a coward.

“I would go with you if I could.”

Harry smiled. “Unless you can find a girl who looks like ‘Aceline’ then that is going to be quite impossible, Rabastan, but thank you for the sentiment.”

Rabastan bent and kissed him, and it made Harry’s smile stretch to a grin.

“You have nothing to worry about, Harry.” Rabastan told him, running a thumb over his cheek and smiling down at him. “You can handle these pathetic little men. You have been doing so during the Wizengamot debates, and even during the court debates. Just keep reminding yourself that they are not your equal, you far surpass them all.”

Harry laughed at that, but Rabastan turned serious.

“I mean it, Harry. Do not see those people as equal to you. You are Lord Potter-Black, you will be married into the Lestrange family. You are above all of them, and they know it, that is why they will use the disgraceful Prophet article against you, because it is all they have to cling to.”

“I suppose I just feel out of my depth here, Rabastan. It has only been a year since I started doing these sorts of things, and getting myself involved in the politics of the wizarding world. I feel unprepared, and now this Prophet article has just hammered that home.”

Rabastan chuckled. “If that’s true then how have you already won several debates and served up a court order?” His fiancé asked him slyly.

Harry pulled a face, and thought about it.

“It isn’t that you are unprepared, or out of your depth, Harry.” Rabastan told him gently. “It’s just that the Prophet article has knocked your confidence. You are questioning yourself, second guessing your own thoughts, but if you let that continue then you’re only allowing them to win. It is what they want.”

Harry considered that, before reaching up and dragging Rabastan down into a kiss.

“I won’t let them beat me.”

Rabastan pulled him back into a kiss. Things very quickly escalated, as the tension between them only continued to rise the longer they were forced to carry on with no sexual relief. Rabastan broke them apart reluctantly, and tried to keep a cool head. It helped to close his eyes, so he didn’t see Harry stood so willing before him.

“I would dearly love to rip these robes from you, throw you on that bed, and keep you up all night, but you know we have to wait until we’re married.”

“You bastard, you had to put that image in my head, didn’t you?” Harry laughed. “I’m going to be hard all night now.”

“I would rather you keep that image in your head than harbouring any self-doubts.” Rabastan told him.

Harry could only shake his head, but he had cheered up considerably.

“Thank you, Rabastan.” He said softly, reaching out to him and resting his head against his chest. “I love you.”

Rabastan rubbed his back, in place of stroking through his hair, which Draco had spent over an hour sorting out for him, and would likely murder Rabastan if he realised that the man had dared touch it.
There was a knock on his door just before it opened, and Narcissa poked her head through.

“Harry, it’s almost time to go. Are you ready, darling?”

Harry cast himself another look in the mirror, and tugged uncomfortably at his collar and cuffs, before running his hands down his outer robes to smoothen them down.

“I think so.” He said, looking at himself critically, trying to spot any imperfections. He checked his neck for any lingering signs of redness, but there were none. His skin was as pale as it usually was, and starkly unblemished considering there was a bit of lingering pain still. The best thing was that he could now speak in full sentences, and unless someone listened very closely, they would not realise that anything was wrong. Even then Harry would merely say that he had had a bit of a sore throat for the past few days and brush it off.

“You look wonderful.” Rabastan told him, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Stop fretting, you will be in your element tonight, and if for whatever reason you aren’t, or anyone dares do or say anything to you, you come home and tell me and I’ll murder them for you.”

Harry pulled away from Rabastan. “You had to ruin it with that last part, didn’t you?”

Rabastan just looked at him. “I’m not sorry, and I will do as I said if anyone dares upset you.”

Harry snorted. “I just won’t tell you then.”

“I’m to be your husband, you should tell me everything.”

“Given the nature of our relationship, or rather your rather unusual career I thought we’d made peace with not telling everything to one another.”

Rabastan sighed himself. “I don’t want you to be angry, but neither will I accept you being upset by a lower class of people. Not for any reason.”

“I think it might be best if you both left your conversation as it is.” Narcissa interrupted, well aware of her younger son’s rather explosive temper.

Harry nodded, but he still reached out to Rabastan to kiss him farewell. He was annoyed, but not so angry as to turn from his fiancé.
Narcissa took Harry’s arm and led him rather quickly down the stairs to the reception room before Harry and Rabastan started arguing, or worse fighting. It was the last thing they needed at the moment, they already had a rather volatile relationship due to their differing views.

“There you are, let me look at you.” Lucius stated, moving to Harry and holding him at arm’s length by the shoulders. He gave Harry a lingering once over and he smiled. “I must say you really do clean up nicely, Harry.”

Harry laughed. “It just takes a lot of work to get to this state. An hour and ten minutes for the hair alone.”

He had gone to reach up to touch his hair, but checked himself and lowered his hand again.

“Don’t you touch it!” Draco cried out at the same moment, striding over to make sure that Harry wasn’t ruining his hard work.

“I’m not touching it!” Harry insisted. “Merlin, you’d never know it was my hair.”

“Not tonight it’s not. Tonight it’s a masterpiece, my masterpiece, and you can’t touch it.” Draco said sternly.

Harry chuckled. “Fine, but I already can’t wait to ruin it when I get home.”

“You can do what you like with it when you’re home.” Draco waved away. “But only once you are home, and not a moment before.”

“Where is Xerxes?” Harry asked curiously.

“He’s gone on ahead, so that no one becomes suspicious of him being overly involved with the Malfoy family, or you.” Lucius explained distractedly, checking his own cuffs and tweaking the one cufflink minimally to the left.

Harry nodded. That made sense, especially as Xerxes was trying to be an unbiased, impartial voice on the Wizengamot, on Harry’s side, not the Daily Prophet’s. Hopefully he could chide a few more Lords into coming forward to declare for Harry’s version of events published in the Quibbler. The more members who did so, the greater the weight fell in Harry’s corner, and potentially the more people who believed him.

“Try to enjoy yourself.” Rabastan told him, giving him a last hug.

“It’s not the sort of thing I enjoy.” Harry insisted. “I probably would have enjoyed it more before that article was released, but…” He sighed, and trailed off. “There’s no use saying such things now. What’s done is done. I’ll see you in a few hours, Rabastan.”

Harry gave his fiancé a last kiss, then Apparated himself to the Ministry, ahead of his parents, and as he’d been taught the smile was already plastered on his face. He stepped forward the moment he landed, but he was almost blinded by the flashes of cameras. The shouted questions came a moment later, once the reporters realised who had actually arrived, and they almost deafened him.
Harry extracted himself from the situation with as much grace as he could manage, keeping his polite smile in place, but refusing to answer any questions, most of which were circling around his Quibbler article. The press were only allowed to occupy this small corner of the atrium. They weren’t allowed into the party proper, so they couldn’t follow him, or hound him, and he fervently thanked Merlin for that small blessing.
Harry walked straight through the crowd to the opposite side of the hall, as far away from the cameras and reporters as he could get, and he took a breath. He’d survived the initial brush with the press, now all he had to do was survive the Ministry workers and their respective partners, which would be easier said than done, especially as the Prophet had given them plenty of material to batter him with.
Some people to his left gasped, and Harry heard an indignant ‘Hey!’ when he turned and found Marcus pushing his way through the crowd to him. He smiled, he couldn’t help it.

“How are you?” Marcus asked, demanding in a whisper.

“I feel fine. My throat is still a little sore, but there’s no sign of them, Marcus. You truly are a genius with runes.”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t have enough time to recover before this mandatory torture.”

“I didn’t realise it was mandatory.” Harry frowned.

“It’s not for Wizengamot members, but I am directly employed by the Ministry, so I regretfully have to be here, at least for an hour or so, unless I can otherwise provide a valid reason for my absence. Apparently threatening the lives of my stupid fuck co-workers is not a valid excuse either.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t they know that you don’t make idle threats?”

“Yes.” Marcus said shortly. “They know that, they just don’t care. I think my runic peers are hoping I’ll wipe out some of our hopeless, stupid arse underlings and that’s why I’m continually forced to come to these things. I swear if any of them keep trying to sidle up to me I’m going to blow some heads off.”

“I’ve managed a leg.” Harry said with a small, secretive grin.

“I know.” Marcus said, giving him a sly look.

“Who told?” Harry asked.

“Your family are very…proud shall we say, of all your accomplishments.” Marcus told him. “News of something like that gets about in certain social circles, Harry. You should have known that most of us already knew.”

“But…what if someone tries to use that information against me?” Harry demanded.

“You don’t lack for friends in high places, if you catch my meaning.”

Harry did, and his heart thudded in his chest as he realised that Marcus was alluding to Voldemort himself.

“Of course no one wants to have Greyback after them either.” Marcus added. “Don’t underestimate how terrified people are of just the merest threat of him, and he likes you, which means that certain people in the know will have to toe the line around you, if they don’t want to wake up to a ravenous werewolf on a full moon.”

“I didn’t know he liked me.” Harry said, not knowing how to take that bit of news.

“After the bloodbath I’m told you caused?” Marcus scoffed. “Of course he likes you. You gave him a meal out of it too, he doesn’t often get to taste Pureblood flesh.”

“Please don’t.” Harry moaned weakly, feeling himself get a bit lightheaded, as he undoubtedly went pale at the least, or possibly even green.

Marcus chuckled at his weak stomach. “I’m just saying he likes you, so don’t be afraid to drop his name into conversation with certain people who are bothering you, or threatening you. Just the whisper of his name will be enough to make most sane wizards back off.”

“What if he doesn’t like me name dropping him?” Harry demanded. “What if he takes exception to me using him like that?”

“Ah, I see you’re very unfamiliar with how grunts work.” Marcus told him, smirking now. “Harry, Greyback is tolerated, despite what he is, because of his ruthlessness and his unquenchable bloodthirst. If you give him what he wants, he’s more than happy to repay the favour. You gave him Rowle, a Pureblood Lord, a rare, delectable treat. Greyback doesn’t often get to eat a Pureblood who is alive and squirming still, and he doesn’t like cold meat or cold blood. You gave him a very rare gift, and what he considers an expensive one at that. He would be willing to do anything you ask, harm or maim, or even kill, anyone you asked him to, to repay you for that treat you gave him.”

“I could never!” Harry burst out, completely horrified.

“You might never have to, Harry.” Marcus told him, his smirk almost morphing into a smile. “Use the threat of him, but never give the order. I promise you, most sane wizards will back off immediately. Greyback won’t contradict your threats, because he owes you for Rowle. In fact if anyone went up to him and asked why you were using him as a threat, they would be pretty much marking themselves as targets to Greyback.”

Harry was revolted, but his logic was overruling his automatic, initial disgust. There were a few other Lords giving him trouble, and threatening him too. If merely name dropping Greyback would have them backing off and leaving him alone…but could he do it? Could he threaten another person’s life even if he never actually went through with it? What if they went crying to Greyback, and as Marcus said, they identified themselves as targets to the man who was looking to repay him a favour?
Marcus had given Harry a lot to think about, and as they naturally separated, and started to mingle, Harry’s mind was elsewhere. He was mentally debating with himself on the pros and cons of name dropping Greyback to those who were being rather persistent in their threats to him. Namely Philip Nott and Corban Yaxley.

“Lord Potter-Black.”

Harry startled at the calling of his name, and he smiled automatically, reflexively. It turned natural when he turned to see Dawson Shacklebolt.

“Lord Shacklebolt. It’s wonderful to see you.”

“Likewise, I hope you are well?”

Harry nodded, smiling. “I am, and yourself?”

Dawson dipped his head. “Of course.”

“How is Lady Shacklebolt?”

“Lenore is just fine, she got fed up with my hovering around her, and went to speak to other ladies by herself.” Dawson rolled his eyes, and Harry chuckled politely.

“How are Leander and Deacon? If I remember rightly Deacon was waiting for his first child to be born?”

Dawson smiled then, and it softened his whole face. “Yes, Deacon and Isobel welcomed a feisty little boy back in May. They named him Dax. I don’t particularly like the name, but he is strong and healthy, and that’s truly all I can ask for. He’s three months old now, and he’s ruling the roost.”

Harry laughed at that. He wondered if his own child would be ruling the roost at three months old…it was more than likely with him and Rabastan as parents, and that made him smile.

“How are your reforms coming along?”

“Really well. I have…had a recent setback.” He said hesitantly, trying to put into words how he was feeling. “But it’s not going to stop me from trying to achieve my goals.”

“I would have been disappointed in you if it had.” Dawson told him. “I expect great things from you, and allowing mere reporters to derail your progress would have been a huge disappointment.”

“Indeed.”

Harry turned and smiled at Lucius, as he came and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Thankfully Harry is more intelligent than that, and he has his family to support him.”

“Nothing I didn’t doubt.” Dawson said, smiling widely at them both. “Please excuse me.”

Harry was left with just Lucius and he tried to spot his mother, but couldn’t see her.

“She is catching up with her friends.” Lucius answered his unasked question, knowing exactly what he’d been looking for. “Have you had any run-ins yet?”

“I haven’t been here for twenty minutes yet.” Harry pointed out.

Lucius just gave him a look. Harry chuckled.

“No, I haven’t had any run-ins. Marcus found me first, and then I mingled for a little while, and then I was speaking to Dawson. His new great-grandson is named Dax.”

“There are a lot of people here, some of them you have never met, but they all believe that they know you, so be careful, and remain calm.”

“I will. I’ll make sure to be aware of the people around me. I mostly want to talk about my law reforms anyway.”

Lucius snorted softly, and gave him a proud look. “Go ahead then, go and change the world.”

The two of them went their separate ways, and Harry started mingling. It was rather boring, waiting to catch eyes with someone, smiling politely, offering a handshake and an official introduction. Then it was a few rounds of asking awkward questions about family and loved ones. ‘Oh, do you have any children, how old are they, yes they do sound like lovely children.’ Harry hated it, all of it, and when you took the time to scratch the surface it was all the same, just the exact same conversation over and over, merely with different people, and it was tedious.

“Ah, Harry, dear boy.”

Harry’s spine stiffened on reflex as he heard that voice. His mind jumped to Dumbledore’s plan to spike him with a potion that would alter his mind, and he had to take a breath to calm the immediate simmering rage within him. He used the will power that had been taught to use to keep his expression neutral, to keep his rage hidden, and he turned.

“Headmaster.” He greeted with a curt nod.

Dumbledore was standing with Amelia Bones, and Harry relaxed a fraction. He would be aware not to take anything handed to him, but he doubted that Dumbledore would try anything with the sharp-eyed, no-nonsense Amelia Bones stood next to him, he wasn’t that stupid, and Harry didn’t believe that he was that desperate either. Not yet.

“Madam Bones.” Harry gave her a more genuine smile.

“Lord Potter-Black, it’s lovely to see you.” She told him, smiling back at him.

“Likewise. I haven’t yet had a chance to speak with you, and I have been looking forward to it.”

“Ah, will this have anything to do with your rumoured law reforms?” She asked knowingly.

Harry chuckled. “It would, yes.”

“Well, I admit I have been excited to get my hands on the drafts you’ve drawn up. Have you brought them with you?” She asked eagerly.

“This is meant to be a party.” He chuckled, trying to calm his own excitement. He didn’t want to come across as too eager.

Madam Bones snorted derisively. “I would find more excitement in my fruit bowl than in this room.”

Harry wondered just what sort of fruit the woman had, but he did pull out his copy of his proposed law reforms, and he handed them over.

“Are you ready for the new school term, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him, pretending at curiousness.

Harry nodded. “I am. I’ve finished all of my shopping for my school supplies, and I’m packed up ready to go. This year will be rather difficult for me, given my last school year and my illness, but I’m determined to keep up now that I’m completely healed and healthy once more.”

“I was surprised that you did not bring Aceline with you.”

“Really?” Harry asked sceptically. “I would have thought that given the Prophet article a few days ago that it would have been obvious that I wouldn’t expose my fiancée to this media circus.”

“I am investigating the reasoning the editors had behind publishing that article.” Madam Bones told him, flicking her eyes up from the parchment she was reading. “I was disgusted by the content of it, and by how they attacked a student to boot.”

“The Prophet has always been a law unto themselves.” Dumbledore put in.

“Perhaps this incident has shown that they shouldn’t be.” Madam Bones said firmly. She was not a woman to take anyone’s shit, and she didn’t like that the paper had run that story, so she was going to get to the bottom of why they’d posted it. Harry liked her.

“My father is pressing charges against the paper too.” Harry told them. “He was angry that I was targeted in such a way, and he’s suing them for libel on my behalf.”

“You’re not going to try to handle that yourself?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head. “I would much rather let my father handle such things, so that I can focus on my education, and on my Wizengamot duties. I would hate to spread myself too thinly, and have it affect the more important aspects of my life.”

“A very wise decision.” Amelia said approvingly.

Harry nodded back, feeling pleased that he’d taken the decision to hand the lawsuit to Lucius, instead of taking that on himself. He’d felt strange not doing it himself, and passing that work off to someone else, but he was sure that that was left over from the Dursleys treatment of him. He needed to try harder to break free of their toxic teachings.
Amelia carefully handed back both of his law reforms, and she was smiling, as she watched him tuck them safely away in his top robe pocket. He had copies, of course, he wasn’t quite that stupid to bring his only copy to a public event, but he’d rather it if the reporters didn’t get photos of someone ripping up his reforms to put on the front page.

“Those are coming along very nicely, Lord Potter-Black.” She said. “A bit more work and you’ll be ready to present them. I couldn’t see any obvious loopholes, and your wording is exemplary. Well done.”

Harry smiled, and thanked her. He tried not to show exactly how pleased he was with her praise. But he saw Amelia Bones as completely impartial, and thus her opinion meant more. If she saw his law reforms as a good thing, and saw no loopholes, then he was certainly on the right track.

“I would most definitely back these law reforms if they were proposed.” She told him. “You’re doing good work, don’t let that gossip rag pull you down, or prevent you from finishing these reforms.” She told him seriously. “Or, for that matter, stop your charity work. Not all of us are brainless sheep. Some of us, not many mind you, can actually think and deduce things for ourselves.”

“That means a lot to me, Madam Bones.” He said honestly.

Though his words didn’t give justice to exactly how much her support meant. He’d been floundering in the last few days, caught up in his anger, in his upset, instead of focusing on what was truly important…his work. His image, his standing in society, his law reforms, and his charitable work. He had allowed that article to harm the very things that would prove the papers wrong about him, about his character. The papers, and the sheep who believed every word they printed, could only harm him if he allowed them to, and that had been exactly what he was doing by allowing that article to affect him so much, allowing them the power of doubt over himself, and what he was doing. No more.
He caught up with Madam Bones a little more, forced himself to speak as neutrally as he could to Dumbledore, and then he excused himself, and he once again started to mingle among the other Ministry workers.
He had noticed that more than one employee of the Ministry started whispering behind their hands to someone as he passed, sniggering as they no doubt discussed the nasty rumours about him. It was easy to tell the low-down Ministry workers to those who were higher up, and thus more intelligent. Those lower down tended to be the ones sniggering and pointing at him as if he couldn’t see them, those who believed the Prophet’s articles were absolute truth and fact, and thus akin to law. Those in higher officers were better educated, and thus took any article they read with a pinch of salt and a dose of scepticism. It was this that Harry found reassuring, that there were those within the Ministry who had read that article and had frowned at it, and many of those workers, like the Law Enforcer, Daniel Parker, had done in Flourish and Blotts, had made it a point to come up to him and tell him pointedly that they didn’t believe a word that the Daily Prophet published, and like Madam Bones, they encouraged him to keep going, to keep doing what he was doing.
Feeling happier, and more reassured, and now glad that he had come to this little Ministry gathering, he chanced upon his mother, who beckoned him over.

“Here he is, my younger son.” She introduced him, and Harry’s heart missed a beat, and then swelled to epic proportions as he was introduced as someone’s son. He liked it…more than liked it. “Harry, sweetheart, this is Lady Lorinda Parkinson, Lady Bedelia Fawley, and Lady Desdemona Yaxley.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ladies.” Harry greeted politely.

They fussed over him, over his hair, how he was dressed, his accessories. Harry was glad that he’d allowed Draco to dress him and do his hair, and that Rabastan had accessorised him, as every inch was scrutinised, and picked apart.
Lady Lorinda, who was Pansy Parkinson’s mother, didn’t like his cufflinks, and thought them an odd choice for his outfit. She sneered when Harry told her that his fiancé had picked them out for him. Lady Bedelia, who was married to Lord Humphry Fawley, didn’t like the cut of his robes, and sniffed over the quality, she didn’t believe they had been made at Twilfitt and Tattings, and insisted that they must not have put as much effort into his robes as they did others. Lady Desdemona was married to Corban Yaxley, and she was related via that marriage to Rhadamanthus Lestrange. She just glared at him, acting as if he were beneath her notice.

“I must go and mingle, Mother.” He said with a smile, turning to her and kissing her cheek.

Narcissa smiled, she seemed rather pleased, and Harry wondered why, but a look at the other three women, and their shocked, and almost longing looks, he guessed that perhaps their sons weren’t as affectionate towards them, especially not in public. Harry cared little for such things. He’d come to love Narcissa, and Lucius too, and he would show it as often as he could, in whatever form that he could.
He walked off, leaving Narcissa and her ‘friends’, and he went back to mingling, and though his throat was getting a little dry, he refused to take any of the drinks on offer, as once again the trays were resting on the heads of house-elves. It disgusted him, and he swore he would change this before the next Ministry party, which was the Wizengamot get-together in the following year, in April.
He mingled a little more, being introduced to people he’d never remember, being polite and courteous, ignoring those who were clearly talking about him behind their hands, and catching up with the other Lords, and speaking to some heads of departments too, showing as many of them as he could his law reforms, or just talking about them, and what he had planned, if they didn’t seem overly receptive of the idea.

“I see that you’re so desperate for attention that you keep showing your face, despite that rather amusing article written about you.”

Harry turned, already working to hide the sneer that wanted to show itself on his face. He just barely managed it.

“Yaxley.” He greeted frostily. “Sitting on the Wizengamot, I would have thought you’d have known that most everything in that article was a lie. Then it’s just like you, and other cowards like you, to ignore the truth in favour of lies if it suits you better.”

Corban Yaxley sneered at him, but Harry remained calm.

“I’m not losing any sleep over that article.” Harry said, giving a sardonic little smile. “My father is handling the lawsuit against them, and I truly don’t think they have a chance against him. I will continue on the same vein as I have been. I will continue to attend Wizengamot meetings, I will continue with my law reforms, no one is going to stop me, especially not the prophet, or the likes of you.”

Yaxley’s hand clenched, and he looked positively apoplectic with rage.

“Your time is coming, Potter.” He spat furiously. “I would be more respectful to proper wizards if I were you.”

“If I’m going to be killed off anyway, why would I?” Harry asked. This wasn’t the first time that Corban Yaxley had alluded to his death, or that it would be sooner rather than later. He was Rhadamanthus’ uncle, and the two of them were as close as Purebloods ever allowed themselves to be, they shared the same sick humour, and apparently the same hatred of him.

Yaxley didn’t seem to have an answer for Harry’s little quip, so he reverted back to more threats.

“I had always hoped that I was the one who would get to take your final breath from you.” He said, hissing under his breath so that no one else in the overcrowded room could hear.

“Now that was a definite threat.” Harry said, his mind already thinking of ways to counteract it, but only one kept coming back to him, and he blamed Marcus for it. “I think you should remember that I have friends in dark places, as well as high places.”

“I was playing these games before you were born, Potter.” Yaxley spat at him. “I know how they work, and your friends are nothing compared to mine.”

“Fenrir Greyback would disagree with you.” Harry said gently, softly, watching Corban closely. He saw a barely there flinch in those cruel eyes, but that was all the reaction Corban gave, but it was all Harry needed.

Corban scoffed, trying to play Harry’s bluff.

“Greyback doesn’t scare me.” He said, and Harry chuckled derisively.

“Then you’re more stupid than I first realised.” Harry said.

Those eyes narrowed dangerously, and both fists clenched this time.

“You’re the child here, Potter. You’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re doing, what sort of trouble you’re causing, or bringing down upon yourself.”

“I feel that I should point out that all of your threats are exactly the same, just worded slightly differently each time. That makes you rather boring, and very stupid.” Harry said as innocently as he could manage.

Yaxley took a step closer to him, getting into his personal space, and he bent his head so that he could whisper into his ear.

“If Rhadamanthus hadn’t wanted to kill you personally, I’d drag you out into an alley and leave your despoiled body with the rubbish for the rats!”

“Neither of you will kill me. Neither of you have enough brain cells between you to manage it.” Harry insisted calmly. He wondered if he could push Yaxley to do something here, now, in front of hundreds of witnesses.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Greyback.”

“Is your only child, your daughter Olivia, afraid of Greyback?” Harry said, his threat very subtle, but clear.

He’d never go through with it, he felt guilty for even putting voice to it. Olivia was married to Leander Shacklebolt. Dawson’s oldest grandson, and the next Lord Shacklebolt once Dawson died. Yaxley didn’t know that he’d never go through with it though, Marcus had insisted that the threat would be enough, and as Harry saw the fear, the panic, in Corban Yaxley’s eyes, he realised that Marcus was right. The threat alone was enough.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Yaxley insisted, but though he tried to control it, hide it, Harry heard the waver in his voice, saw the flinching at his mouth, the fear in his eyes as Harry threatened his daughter. His only child.

Yaxley might not have cared for her much, he might have wished he’d had a son instead of a daughter, but it was the principle of it. The Yaxley line was extant in the male line, unless Corban himself had another child, a male heir to carry on the name, Olivia was the only born Yaxley left, and she had married into the Shacklebolt family. His only hope was if she produced two sons, one to carry on the Shacklebolt line, the other the Yaxley. His worst fear was something happening to Olivia before she had those two sons…something like being mauled by Greyback, or worse, being turned into a werewolf and the Yaxley line becoming half breeds.

“There are a lot of things that I’d dare to do, Yaxley. Continue to cavort with Rhadamanthus, continue to threaten me, to work against me, and I will retaliate with my friend Greyback, to take out the only thing you have left, and that is Olivia. Watch your step, or I will end the Yaxley line and force you to watch as I do so.”

Harry turned on his heel and walked away, presenting his back to Yaxley as a way to showcase that he wasn’t afraid of him. He’d taken the dog’s teeth, so to say, and now Yaxley had no bite and was reduced to being all bark.

“Are you well, Harry?”

Of course Xerxes was waiting in the wings, and he followed Harry and laid a comforting hand on him.

“I wasn’t sure if I should come over to save you, or Corban.”

Harry gave a rather dark chuckle. “He’s definitely the one who needed saving, but I got all the verbal proof I needed that he was working with Rhadamanthus, and that your darling son wants me dead.”

“Corban admitted it?”

Harry nodded. “He couldn’t wait to tell me that if Rhadamanthus hadn’t laid claim to me then he’d love to be the one to take my last breath.”

Xerxes’ face looked like that of a demon, as he was so furious he looked inhuman.

“It has been two hours, Harry, perhaps you’d like to go back home to Basti?” Xerxes offered.

Harry nodded. “After that, I think I will. It won’t be good to tempt him to trying anything here.”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Xerxes growled.

“He might after what I said to him.”

“Go home, Harry.” Xerxes insisted, laying an arm around him almost protectively, as if Corban was going to start firing curses at him. “Make sure that you tell Rodolphus and Rabastan.”

“Are they going to get themselves into trouble by going after him?”

“Perhaps, but it’ll be the best thing all around.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s better to leave that one alive, at least for a while longer.”

Xerxes looked confused, but Harry couldn’t elaborate here…far too many people, far too much chance for someone to eavesdrop on them, and that wasn’t something that you wanted someone to overhear.
Xerxes went to say something, but held his tongue, looking at someone behind Harry. Harry hoped that whoever it was hadn’t heard Xerxes name drop his grandsons.

“Harry, do you know who this is?”

Harry tensed as he heard Dumbledore’s voice. He turned, making his face as plain as he possibly could.

“Of course I know Lord Xerxes Lestrange, we sit together on the Wizengamot.” Harry said, a hard edge to his voice.

“His family are some of Voldemort’s top supporters, Harry. His grandsons, along with Bellatrix, were the ones who tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity.”

“Do not mention her name to me!” Harry hissed furiously, his hands clenching into fists.

“Whatever my grandsons have done, is no business of mine. I haven’t seen either of them since they were sentenced all those years ago.” Xerxes said smoothly.

“You continually apply for an appeal for them both.”

“They are the only Lestranges left to carry on my line, of course I appeal for them both, though just one would be enough, as long as he could still produce heirs. They weren’t given a fair trial, none of them were, a life sentence is for murder, and no one died.”

“They robbed Frank and Alice of their lives. They robbed young Neville the chance of having loving parents.” Dumbledore said, and there was something steely in his tone.

“But neither of them died.” Xerxes repeated. “A life for a life, Dumbledore. Those are the laws.”

“Being a Death Eater is grounds for life imprisonment.”

“Not back then it wasn’t. Not when they were sentenced. That’s why the Aurors would have rathered bring in dead bodies than prisoners.” Xerxes pointed out. “Because of that unfair trial I lost my grandsons, the continuation of the Lestrange line, when I needn’t have. I will appeal as often as I humanly can, to rectify the abuse of the laws.”

“There’s been a lot of that going around.” Harry nodded. “Fudge was fired after I triggered that inquest into how the laws have been mishandled over the years.”

“You have made it much easier for me to appeal the appalling lack of lawfulness in concerning my grandsons’ case. Thank you, Lord Potter-Black.”

“Is that what you wanted, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. “For the Lestranges to be given a pardon for their crimes? For torturing Neville’s parents into insanity?”

“I want the laws of this country, of our society, to be upheld.” Harry said, trying not to clench his jaw, or his fists. “We have written laws that are being ignored, we have parts of legislation being upheld, and other parts ignored, as if people can just pick and choose what to follow or not. It’s an utter disgrace.”

“The laws are ancient, Harry, some of them are no longer applicable.”

“I’m not saying that the laws don’t need updating, they do, and I’m fully aware of that. But the laws must be updated, and not just left as they are while the Wizengamot, and the Council of Magical Law, are free to interpret them as they please, using bits and pieces of one law, and ignoring the very context of it, for their own purposes. I am trying to update the laws, but it’ll take time. Until then I refuse to allow anyone to get away with not following the laws to the letter.”

“That could put people in danger, Harry.” Dumbledore warned him.

“Then the laws should have been updated a long time ago, and not left in such a despicable condition.” Harry said dispassionately, staring down Dumbledore, refusing to give in.

“You truly did allow that man to be executed by the goblins, didn’t you?”

“The law is the law.” Harry said viciously. “The goblins are our allies, and we accepted their laws in relation to everything to do with Gringotts. They run our banks, look after our valuables, and in return we allow them to govern Gringotts how they please, and that includes executing thieves.”

“A man lost his life over that decision, Harry.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to rob a bank.” Harry said carelessly.

“Why are you harassing my son?” Narcissa’s voice cut through the conversation, as she materialised at Harry’s side. “This is supposed to be a relaxing get-together, a chance for Harry to learn and explore, it is not a chance for you to harass him outside of school term.”

“It’s alright, Mother. I was just heading home anyway.” Harry assured her.

“I will escort you.” She insisted, slipping her arm through his.

Harry led her away, and to the floo banks.

“I saw him harassing you and even though Xerxes was there, I knew he couldn’t say too much, lest he give away that you knew him rather well.”

Harry nodded. “He’s relentless when he wants to be. He keeps trying to get me to feel guilty about the things I’ve done, but I won’t. I’m proud of how far I’ve come.”

“So you should be.” Narcissa said immediately, before bending forward and laying a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Now go home and rest, spend some time with your fiancé, you don’t have much time before you’re back in Hogwarts.”

Harry sighed, and nodded. “I know. I don’t really want to go back, but I do understand the importance of completing my education, if for no other reason than I want to become the Minister for Magic one day.”

Narcissa’s eyes lit up at hearing that. “You truly want to become the Minister?” She asked him, almost excitedly…then it would be a huge family honour to have her son become the Minister.

Harry nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and given the state of everything, right down to our outdated laws, I feel that I must become the Minister in order to fix everything.”

“I’m so proud of you, Harry.”

“I haven’t done it yet, and there are no guarantees that if I do try and run for office that I’ll be voted in.” He chuckled.

“But that you are aspiring so high is something to be proud of in itself.”

“I need to work extra hard this year, I’m aiming for all Os, but I will also need to put a lot of work into the Wizengamot, and also into my law reforms. I’m going to be very busy.”

“Your family will help you as much as we’re able.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Mother. Enjoy the rest of the party, I will see you back at home.”

They parted ways, and Harry took a handful of floo powder and called out for Malfoy Manor. A moment later and he was gone from the Ministry party and he was arriving back home. He took a breath, and immediately reached up to rub a hand through his hair. He had been dying to do that all night. It made him smile.
Of course those who hadn’t gone to the party were in the parlour…Rodolphus and Rabastan were talking to one another, and Draco was reading a book. Harry wondered if Draco knew exactly how much he was like Narcissa.

“Harry, you’re home earlier than expected.” Rabastan told him, but still stood to receive him.

Harry walked to him and threw his arms around his fiancé, squeezing him, and tilting his head for a kiss.

“It was so boring!” He complained. “I can’t put into words how much my brain has been damaged from the boredom!”

Rabastan chuckled and led Harry to the settee. Harry kicked his highly polished shoes off and rested up on his fiancé’s lap.

“Did you at least keep your hair in order before you came home?” Draco asked, giving his hair a horrified look.

“I hope so, but I had to knock the soot out of it after flooing, so it’s like this because I came home.”

“If I see a single photo of you with that messy hair at the party, Potter…”

“Relax, Draco. I didn’t touch it until I flooed home.”

“Did you get to talk about your reforms to anyone?” Rabastan asked him.

Harry nodded happily. “Yes, about the only good thing to come from tonight. That and I didn’t run into Rhadamanthus at all. Dumbledore tried to harass me over the decisions I’d made though, as if he could at all influence me or my thoughts anymore, and your dear great-uncle Yaxley started on me yet again, he almost cursed me in the atrium.”

“What?” Rodolphus demanded.

“That’s okay, I learning more and more about the things I can do, and how to protect myself, and I’m getting much better at threatening people. But he got so angry that he let slip some things that he probably shouldn’t have.”

“Such as?” Rabastan asked him.

“Nothing we didn’t already know, but it has at least been confirmed, verbally at least. Rhadamanthus wants me dead, and he’s told Yaxley that I’m off limits because he wants to do it himself.”

“What did he say exactly, Harry?” Rodolphus asked him darkly, an edge of something murderous to his tone.

“That if Rhadamanthus hadn’t already wanted to kill me personally then Yaxley would just love to be the one to take my last breath.”

“I think we are overdue a visit to our uncle, Rabastan.”

“I handled it.” Harry said. “I don’t like how I handled it, but I still did it.”

“What did you do?” Rabastan asked him, holding him tighter, and using one hand to cup his chin.

Harry sighed. “It was Marcus’ idea really. He told me how ‘grunts’ work, and that because I’d pretty much fed Rowle to Greyback that Greyback owed me a favour, so I threatened Yaxley with him, or rather I threatened Olivia with him.”

Rodolphus laughed. Properly laughed, and he messed up Harry’s hair with a large hand.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way of getting him off your back.” Rabastan said, then shook his head.

“It was a genius move.” Rodolphus complimented. “Threatening the one thing he actually cares about, the continuation of the Yaxley line, if he continued to harass and threaten him. Olivia is his only child, and there’s no way he or his wife will have any more now, Mona is too old to bear children. Olivia is the last chance for the Yaxley line to continue.”

“If Dawson ever found out that I’d threatened his granddaughter by marriage…”

“Corban won’t tell him, he won’t admit that he’s threatening to kill you, but if he did, Dawson would understand. If you had threatened Leander, or whatever great-grandchildren he could have had, that would be different, but Leander could always get another wife to carry on the Shacklebolt name.”

“He likes Olivia, and Leander loves her. I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

“Yaxley still won’t admit to wanting you killed, Harry.” Rabastan reassured him. “Dawson need never know.”

Harry breathed a little easier at hearing that. He was glad that Dawson would never find out that Harry had threatened Olivia with Greyback, that Yaxley wouldn’t be able to tell him because he couldn’t admit to why Harry had threatened his daughter with Fenrir Greyback, of all people.
He relaxed, and snuggled into Rabastan. He wouldn’t get the chance to do this for much longer. He hated that he had to go back to school, but what he’d told Narcissa was the truth. He had decided. He wanted to become the Minister for Magic, and he couldn’t drop out of Hogwarts if that was to become at all reality. He would have to work harder than he ever had before, and build up his social profile too, if he had any sort of shot at the top office. The Prophet might have already ruined his chances, but he would still try. He had a year to rectify the damage they had done, he had a year to move all his pieces into place, and then, once he had graduated, his bid for the very top position would begin in earnest.
It would likely take several years to work his way up that high, no one would want an eighteen year old as the Minister, but he couldn’t afford to wait too long, not with the state of the wizarding world currently. Perhaps if he changed some laws, passed his reforms, people would trust him more, and would be more willing to vote him into power. He only needed a chance, and he was going to do his damnedest to give himself that chance. He took a breath and smiled, running his fingers over Rabastan’s chest. He could do this, he knew that he could.

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

A/N: A little bit of Black Heir to try and brighten up your lockdowns, lovelies. I struggled to get this finished though, so next week will be the start of a brand new fic, Servus ad Harenas, which is already completed, so that I can continue to update weekly. I might be able to get chapter 130 of Rise of the Drackens done, which will take priority over Servus ad Harenas, but I am certain that the next update will not be for this fic, I’m not ready to come back to it just yet.

Guest: I don’t know where you live, lovelie, but there is a vaccine for tuberculosis, it’s called the BCG vaccine (Bacillus Calmette-Guérin vaccine). I had to have it when I was 15 or 16, after the skin test you mentioned showed I had no immunity, and I still have the scar on my upper arm from it.

I hope that you’re all staying inside, and staying safe, and I’ll see you all next week, lovelies,

StarLight Massacre. X
- 28
- 29
- 30
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Guile and Devotion of a Black Heir