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Chosen Chains	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter Three�Where
Sun and Shadow End

�� Harry
finally slowed and stopped. He had run so fast that his legs felt like
jellyfish, and his head was spinning and his stomach aching. He leaned against
the nearest tree, once he was sure that he no longer crackled with flame that
would burn it, and looked around.

�� The
clearing he stood in wasn�t natural; Harry thought something had probably
fallen here and burned some of the trees away recently. A lightning strike? The
ground was blackened and melted in a few places, and there was a faint,
persistent stink of smoke when he got interested enough to smell for it.

�� Not that he
needed to care. He wasn�t going to burn down the Forest, now that the intense
run had worn away his anger, and no one would care about his observations or
his reasons for being here if he didn�t harm anything.

�� It had been
a great satisfaction, after the war, when Harry realized that he didn�t have to
care so much or so intensely. He had tried to reduce his anger with that,
thinking about the Ministry�s corruption with indifference. He could never
address it, so why try? He could never say why he needed the stress relief that
he did or where his anger came from, because neither had any logical cause, so
why try?

�� But it
hadn�t worked. He still cared about things like Hogwarts interfering in the
Ministry, and he still nourished bitterness against his friends for trying to
make him ask questions he wasn�t interested in the answers to.

�� Harry
grimaced and leaned his head back against the trunk again. It would do no good
if he ran all that distance and then got upset. He couldn�t stop caring about
Ron and Hermione, but he could stop thinking about them for the minute, and go
and arrange lodgings in Hogsmeade like he�d said he would.

�� He turned
around, and found a white centaur considering him from so close that Harry
didn�t understand how he hadn�t heard his hooves. Harry raised his wand and
waited warily. Centaurs could be kind, yes, but not always, and he hadn�t heard
anything lately about how they conducted their relations with humans since the
war.

�� Harry
Potter,� the centaur said, in a high voice. �The stars did not predict your
coming. Or they did not do so in a way that we could readily understand.�

�� No reason
they should,� Harry said, with a casual little shrug that he hoped would
content the centaur. �I don�t plan to stay here very long.�

�� He stepped
around to the side, but the centaur faced him squarely again and said, �You
carry something as dark as an eclipse within you, something that should never
find expression.�

�� Harry
gritted his teeth. Now random magical creatures were showing up to tell him how
wrong his choices were. He didn�t try to hide the fire that flickered up his
side, because the centaur might understand the threat, surrounded by wood, in a
way that wizards surrounded by stone and wards didn�t. �I�ll try not to let it.
Can I leave now?�

�� The centaur
considered him again, scraping one front hoof back and forth in a slow dance
over the leafy ground. Harry stared back some more, and thought about
Apparating, but a brief test showed that this part of the Forest still had the
same wards on it that surrounded Hogwarts.

�� You will
find the means to tame it here,� the centaur said at last. �Orion has promised
that much. Yes, Orion,� he went on, and Harry thought he was talking mostly to
himself, �Orion the fierce hunter, who runs his prey down and does not miss.�

�� Good,�
Harry said. �That would be good. But I�m leaving now, and I promise that I
won�t come here again.� He thought it would be best if he got out of here as
soon as possible, not because he feared the centaur�s words of wisdom, but
simply because he didn�t want to start a conflagration.

�� Leave,�
the centaur said. �You cannot escape from beneath their influence, who look
down through dusk and shadow to find us.�

�� Harry bowed
politely and started to go, then hesitated, caught by the similarity of the
centaur�s wording to what Dumbledore had said. He turned around. �Can you tell
me of the place where both sun and shadow end? We�re trying to find it.�

�� There is
no such place,� the centaur said. �For does not everything in the world happen
beneath the gaze of the sun or the stars? And are not the stars suns in their
own right, for worlds we cannot imagine?�

�� Well, that was bloody useless, Harry
thought crossly, and took his leave. The trail out of the Forest was easy to
find, thanks to the blackened footprints he�d left behind, as if he carried his
own portable lightning storm with him.

�� Harry
shivered in distaste. He didn�t like being
this angry. The methods he resorted to to control the rage were stopgaps.
Nothing would have made him happier than getting rid of it forever.

�� But how
could do that? Contrary to what Hermione thought, he�d talked to his share of
Healers, Mind-Healers, Potions masters who brewed concoctions that were
supposed to control his emotions and damp his magic, and ordinary people who
were supposedly good at soothing the anger of others. He�d tried the rigid
discipline of the Auror program, meditation rooms that some of the radical
young Healers at St. Mungo�s and Muggle books recommended, and different diets.

�� Nothing
helped, except the brief, violent release that he discovered when bound and
under orders.

�� He didn�t
even do it that often. Hermione thought she was disgusted by it, but she
couldn�t feel that more strongly than Harry himself did.

�� There was
no other answer, though, and so, as he often did for lack of a better option, Harry
put the problem out of his mind. He would go to Hogsmeade, get a room at the
Three Broomsticks, write a letter to Annie, and then settle down and think
seriously about this riddle that Dumbledore had handed him.

�� Well, them.
Having to include Malfoy in the equation was troublesome and alienating, but
Harry reluctantly supposed he�d get used to it.

*

�� Draco
walked in a slow circle around the sentient potion�s cauldron. For now, the
potion lay quiescent inside it; in fact, it hadn�t moved or made a sound since
Draco had brought it to Hogwarts. That could be useful, in that a regular dose
of novelty would help him improve his control, or it might be simple fear.
Draco already knew that fear would quell the potion for a few hours, but then
it would test his control.

�� When he had
added the new ingredient to activate it, a pinfeather from a hummingbird,
Severus had leaned forwards in his portrait. �What are you doing?�

�� Making a
sentient potion.� Draco never took his gaze from the cauldron, because at that
point he didn�t know what would happen. The potion might have suddenly decided
to make his life interesting. �One that should control the limbs and bodies of
people it�s introduced to when I�m finished with it. And animals, of course.
Flies and spiders would make excellent spies, if I could adapt the potion to
their systems.�

�� Severus was
silent for some time. Then he said, �Did you come up with this project on your
own, or did I introduce you to the knowledge?�

�� Both,�
Draco said, judging that it was safe for the moment to look up at the portrait.
�I took hints and clues from your teachings, particularly about the effects of
discipline, but most of what I know now I learned from other brewers.�

�� Severus was
silent for so long that Draco thought he�d left the frame. He�d provided
himself with a wooden shield by the point that Severus spoke again, as well as
a lash of steel wire that he�d Transfigured from a bookmark in one of the
obscenely cheerful books along the walls. �My former self did not transfer all
his memories to me.�

�� I know
that,� Draco said, keeping his head turned towards the cauldron and his shield
and coil of wire in slight but constant motion. He had felt the urge to freeze
the moment Severus spoke those words, but he saw no reason that he should.
After all, treating a declaration of vulnerability as a declaration of vulnerability would only cause Severus to shut
his mouth. �You told us that already when you told us about the riddles.�

�� Us,� Severus sneered. �You are truly
determined to consider Potter a part of this mission.�

�� Draco
judged it safe to face Severus and nod. �Yes. He is the only ally I have in a
tense and confusing situation where the rewards are uncertain. I would like to
trust him.�

�� Be careful
how far you go.� Severus flicked his fingers in a gesture that Draco had seen
him use when he was sending dandelion dust into a volatile potion. It was
dismissive only on the surface. �I shudder now to think of how my former self
trusted him to know what he had to do to defeat the Dark Lord.�

�� I couldn�t
help being careful, after what I overheard and seeing him burn,� Draco
retorted. And curious. But Severus would
disdain the curiosity, so let it remain unspoken for the moment.

�� The potion
lashed out with one green arm, apparently planning on catching him unawares.

�� Draco spun,
blocked it with the wooden shield, touched it with the steel wire, and watched
it crumple. He smiled grimly. He had been right in thinking that steel would
prove to be a new means of controlling it.

�� I am
surprised that you favor working with such dangerous subjects,� Severus
murmured. �After what you faced during the last year of the war, do not peace
and safety have the strongest attraction for you?�

�� I don�t
mind peace and safety, in their places,� Draco said, and then began to pull the
new �arm� back to the cauldron with the use of the steel. He didn�t want to
touch it yet, but he would have to scoop up the small drops that fell to the
floor of the dungeon. Leaving a part of it unattached could possibly mean that
it would develop new vulnerabilities and new capacities of its own, and grow
another body not confined by the cauldron. �But I also don�t mind danger and
disruption, in an environment that I ultimately control.�

�� Severus
said nothing. Draco looked at him and found him standing there with his arms
folded, head shaking as if he were watching the mistakes of a promising but
rather slow apprentice. �No one can control everything he faces. I should think
you would have learned that lesson by now.�

�� Did
Dumbledore teach you that one?� Draco asked.

�� As he had
known would happen, Severus stalked out of the frame. Draco went back to his
potion. He liked brewing unpredictable potions, yes, but the real influences
that he felt compelled to exclude from his environment were people who insulted
him.

�� He wondered
for a moment what it would be like to work with Potter in the room, if he would
fling the same insults as Severus or simply try to disrupt the brewing. Most
likely he wouldn�t even understand the danger. Severus, portrait and thus
lesser reflection of the true man or not, maintained the memories of his
training.

�� I think Potter would be fascinated, but he
would assume that he also understood everything he needed to of brewing, and
interfere in undesirable ways.

�� Then Draco
laughed. Why was he considering such a thing? The idea that he and Potter would
ever occupy the same room while he was brewing was childish. Perhaps he still
dreamed of the things that his child-self had once wanted, of Harry Potter�s
notice and attention. Dreams might be put down for a time, but they were rarely
forsaken, or Draco would not do such a brisk business in lust drafts and
potions meant to restore youthful beauty for a few hours or give someone the
ability to fly like a pro Quidditch player.

�� On the
other hand, he might have to brew potions during their quest to solve the
riddles and unlock the wards. Perhaps his unconscious, fantasizing mind was
wiser than he knew.

�� He levered
the green potion into the cauldron with more thoughtfulness than usual.

*

�� Dear Annie, Harry wrote, and then
paused, wondering if he had earned the right to call her by her first name. She
might not like it, either, since she seemed so much more grown-up than some
children he had met.

�� And he was
sure that she didn�t have the same problem he did as a child, when someone
calling him by his first name was a pleasant change from the taunts he usually
received.

�� Dear Miss Crompton, he wrote instead,
and then leaned back in his seat, trying to imagine what he could tell her
about her chances of coming to a magical school and getting a good education
that wouldn�t be a lie.

�� The room
he�d been granted at the Three Broomsticks was pleasant enough. A single
window, without any enchantments, showed Harry a view of people passing in the
streets of Hogsmeade, and the heavy wooden bed was wide enough for two to sleep
in. Harry smiled grimly. That last comfort was rather wasted on him.

�� And there
was a table and chair that he could use to write letters. Harry didn�t need
anything else, really, since he had brought his own parchment, ink, and quills
with him.

�� I�m at Hogwarts now, he wrote when he
returned to the letter. The school is a
huge castle, with a lake in front of it. When the first-years come to the
school, they ride across the lake on a boat, and they�re met by a gamekeeper
named Hagrid. Hagrid�s rather large and he can be frightening, but I think
you�ll like him.

�� Harry
paused, frowning suddenly. He hadn�t seen Hagrid since he�d come here. Was he
still working as gamekeeper, or had the Ministry dismissed him? One of the
arguments he�d had with the Ministry was with the people who wanted to dismiss
Hagrid because half-giants were �dangerous.�

�� Well, he
would have to find out later. Just another thing to do, and struggle with, and
probably fail at, because the Ministry was determined not to let him have any
successes.

�� Harry
gritted his teeth, and wrote on, Hogwarts
teaches you all the subjects you�ll need to control your magic. You�ll learn
about the history of the wizarding world, and how to brew potions that heal
people and make them fall asleep, and Transfigurations�which is magic that
changes things into other things, like changing people into animals�and flying
on broomsticks. I didn�t like all of those subjects at Hogwarts, but who knows
what you�ll find fascinating?

�� He finished
the letter with a few more descriptions and recommendations. He would have
liked to say something more personal, but he still didn�t know Annie very well
yet.

�� When he
sealed the letter, Harry paused before he cast the final spells, fighting his
own sudden idea with the side of himself that was more mature. Then he shook
his head�his maturity never lasted very long anyway�and cast the charm that
would sting anyone other than Annie who tried to open it.

�� Maybe Annie
wasn�t exactly the same as him, but he bet she would still enjoy secrets and
the ability to make her own decision about the letter.

�� When he
turned around, intending to trek back to the Owlery and summon his owl, he was
startled to see Catherine crouching on the sill. Harry cleared his throat and
crossed over to the window to give the letter to her. Catherine accepted it in
her beak, but stared at him instead of flying off right away.

�� What?�
Harry snapped, irritated. Hedwig had never looked at him that way, and she was
the only owl he had to compare Catherine to.

�� Catherine
reached out and captured his chin in her talon again, the way she had in the
shop. From even closer, she gave him an even more critical stare, and then
sharply nipped his ear. Harry jerked back, hand to his ear, swearing, as she
soared out the window. That was also a much harder bite than Hedwig had ever
given him.

�� Face it, Harry told himself gloomily as
he went over to clean up his writing supplies. Not even your owl likes you.

�� He reckoned
he should probably go back to Hogwarts tonight to meet with Malfoy and perhaps
the new Ministry representative, but in the meantime, he didn�t have anything
better to do than sleep and fantasize about what he could never have.

*

�� I�m sure
you understand our horror at the way you were treated, Potions master Malfoy.
Wimpledink let his understandable impatience with Mr. Potter spill over onto
you, and for that, I am deeply sorry.�

�� Draco took
a drink of the wine that the new Ministry representative had served to him the
minute he entered her rooms, and smiled at her. The wine was cool and faintly
sweet. He wondered who had told her that he liked it that way. If he could have
spies in the Ministry, they could certainly have spies on him. �Oh, no, Miss
Covington. I wasn�t offended. I always assumed that the Ministry representative
would be difficult to work with, no matter who it was.�

�� Margaret
Covington touched her hand to her chest in an expression of dismay so perfectly
executed Draco wanted to stand up and applaud. She was an altogether different
breed of flunkey from Wimpledink. She was tall and dark-haired, with the signs
of pure-blood breeding in her face�although Draco didn�t recognize her name�and
she had bright, deep blue eyes and could blush on command. And she never said
anything less than soothing and serene and apologetic, though Draco knew she
couldn�t mean everything.

�� Potter will be sorry that he missed this, Draco
thought, and had another sip of the wine.

�� I can only
grieve that those who dealt with you in the past gave you such expectations.�
Covington leaned towards him and lowered her voice. �I hope that I do not?�

�� No,� Draco
said with complete honesty. She symbolized a different type of challenge that
he would have to overcome: the part of the Ministry that would give him soft
words and sweet lies and deliver nothing solid.

�� Covington
smiled, took a sip of her own drink�so pale that Draco honestly didn�t know if
it was wine or water�and then leaned in further. �I was in Slytherin House
myself,� she murmured. �I hope that you don�t think I�m conspiring against the
House that sheltered me.�

�� But of course you would, Draco thought
as he inclined his head, if it was to
your own advantage. �I must admit that the Ministry�s refusal to deliver a
pronouncement on the future of Slytherin has worried me.�

�� Such refusals
will always be politic as long as we do not have a competent Seer.� Covington
spread her hands in what Draco was sure was mock sorrow, but so perfectly
rehearsed that it didn�t look that way. �The Ministry can�t yet know whether
allowing Slytherin House would turn out to present more disadvantages than
advantages.�

�� It was
allowed for hundreds of years.� Draco knew his smile was sharp, but he had
already revealed that he cared about this topic. Speaking further on it was not
the same thing as weakness. �Including during wars when the former Dark Lord
had been a Slytherin, or the nearest equivalent in his country of origin. Why
should it be disallowed now?�

�� Covington
paused in filling her glass and shot him a curious glance. �Surely you don�t
think the previous school administrations did all they should have in the
interests of safety?�

�� Well-played, Draco thought admiringly,
and shook his head. �I can�t think that, as the son of a former school governor
who often disagreed with a former Headmaster,� he said. �But I�m not convinced
that the exclusion of Slytherin House represents a safety issue.�

�� What would
it represent, then?� Covington settled back in her chair, seeming entirely
prepared to discuss this for as long as he needed to be persuaded.

�� An issue
of politics,� Draco said. �As you admitted yourself.�

�� Covington
laughed. �I could accuse you of a pun, but I will treat your concern seriously
instead.� Draco nodded. He had expected a tactic like that, one aimed at
reducing his self-confidence, and it might have worked if he was less settled
within himself and less in tune with Severus�s lessons. �The Ministry is much
more worried about Dark wizards than we used to be. We have expanded the Auror
program and searched more extensively for new trainees, as well as giving extra
lessons on the matter to the rest of the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement.�

�� Despite
the exclusion of one prominent Auror
from your Department,� Draco said, �I believe you.�

�� Did you
ever hear why Potter had been sacked?� Covington was utterly unruffled. �For
opposing the Ministry�s plans for Hogwarts. The issue of our children�s
education is more important to us than the placement of an arrogant
grandstander, war hero though he may be.�

�� Draco
nodded again. He didn�t think that was Covington�s own opinion, necessarily,
but it was useful to know the Ministry party line.

�� It seems
useful, necessary, and convenient to eliminate a House that often produced Dark
wizards,� Covington continued. �No, not everyone who comes out of the House is
Dark, but you can�t deny that there were more of them than there should have
been. Some of my yearmates had no taste.�
She shuddered delicately.

�� What would
happen, under this new plan, if a Dark wizard turned up in Hufflepuff,
Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor?� Draco asked softly. �Would you abolish them as
well?�

�� The reason
that Slytherin produced Dark wizards is not due particularly to the children
being selected,� Covington said, �or its location in the dungeons, or even the
Dark wizards who sometimes Headed it.�

�� Such as?�
Draco was prepared to defend Severus if she included him.

�� Oh, I�m
sure you can think of many,� Covington said, once again smoothly dodging and
apparently paying a compliment to his intelligence. �But as I was saying. The
main reason for the House producing Dark wizards is the philosophy of its
founder. Can you imagine preferring pure-bloods over Muggleborns in this day
and age?�

�� Snake, Draco thought. An appropriate symbol for her. I can�t tell
whether she ever held beliefs based on blood, and that�s the point. She�ll
slither into any available hole and adapt her coloring to the people around
her. She has no core beliefs except in her own advancement.

�� Then
simply encourage Muggleborn students as well as pure-bloods to join the ranks,�
Draco said, with a careless shrug. �Change the reputation of the House in the
school that ensured students of our kind often became self-segregating. When
they find it less fearsome, I don�t think Muggleborn students will be so
resistant to being Sorted there.�

�� And when
they find out that their House�s founder specifically raised and trained a
basilisk to attack people like them?� Covington gave him a direct glance. �What
would your response to their fearful questions be?�

�� That
Slytherin didn�t embody all the virtues or faults of the House, and his
students don�t have to, either,� Draco said. �Simple enough. Not all
Gryffindors, excluding perhaps Potter, are true heirs of Godric Gryffindor, either.�

�� Simple,�
Covington echoed. �When the symbol, the name, the ideal that the children are
exhorted to live up to, the philosophy of many students within it�including the
older students of six different years that the Sorted Muggleborns will have to
live with�tell them otherwise. Yes, simple indeed.�

�� When Draco
got up to leave, he still hadn�t managed to wrangle a straight answer out of
Covington, or win the argument, though her replies did indicate that the
Ministry strongly intended to close Slytherin. Draco shook his head as he paced
through the corridors towards the dungeons. The Ministry had made a mistake,
perhaps simply out of oversight, with Wimpledink, but now they were going to be
harder opponents than he�d thought.

�� Psst!
Malfoy.�

�� Draco
turned his head slowly, hoping to express his extreme indignation that someone
would couple his last name with such a childish and silly outburst as �Psst!�
Then he saw the source of the voice and realized that it wouldn�t matter.

�� Weasley,�
he said. �What do you want?�

�� Weasley
waved frantically at him to be quiet. Draco raised his eyebrows and strolled
nearer. Weasley was standing in a side corridor, checking up and down for other
people in a way that showed he hadn�t conspired very often. Draco wondered
where his wife was. She would have done infinitely better.

�� Listen,�
Weasley said in a hurried whisper, �I think we could stop the Ministry from
taking over the school, or at least having it all their own way, if we could
cooperate.�

�� Draco raised
an eyebrow and said nothing at all. He wasn�t about to share the riddle that
Severus and Dumbledore had entrusted to him and Potter, and he didn�t think
that Potter would, either.

�� You need
to speak to Harry,� Weasley said. He was sweating, and spent a moment staring
at a currently blank portrait frame as if he assumed that the painting was
hiding behind it to listen to their conversation. �He won�t listen to us. All
it�ll take is a few compromises, and we can have back the Hogwarts that we know
and love.�

�� What kind
of compromises?� Draco asked calmly. It cost him nothing to ask.

�� Well�more
wards, of course.� Weasley grimaced as though he was swallowing a Gobstone.
�The Ministry insists. They want a ban on Quidditch right now, too, but that
won�t hold against the students� clamor for it. And Slytherin House would have
to be shut down, but the students who would otherwise be Sorted there can ask
for another House. Don�t look at me like that,� he added defensively, though
Draco didn�t think he was �looking like� anything in particular. �I know it�s
possible. Harry did it.�

�� Draco
blinked, and oddly enough, his first thought was, There goes my point against Covington about Potter�s perfect Gryffindor
nature. If only she knew. �What House?� he asked.

�� Weasley,
stopped in mid-flight, blinked foolishly again as if he didn�t know how to
begin. �What?�

�� Which
House was Potter almost Sorted into?� Draco asked, more quietly than before.

�� Look, it
doesn�t matter.� Weasley waved a hand. �I shouldn�t have said that. The point is that it only means a few
changes. The Ministry can appoint a Headmaster, sure, but the school won�t work
with them if they�re unsuitable�the portraits and the wards and the stones
themselves, I mean. So it�ll be only a few years before we get a new
Headmaster. These are all workable.
But Harry refuses to compromise. He always did,� Weasley added, half to
himself. �Will you persuade him? I know you want to see Hogwarts open again.�

�� Tell me
one thing,� Draco said. �And I�ll speak to him.�

�� What House
he was Sorted into?� Weasley asked. �Easy enough. It was��

�� No. What
you rowed about badly enough that he won�t speak to you now.�

�� Weasley
stiffened as though someone had filled his arms with needles. He stared at Draco
for long moments, while Draco waited and the silence grew thicker. Draco did
listen, to make sure that no one else was nearing them or lurking behind
Weasley, since he seemed so upset about that, but he heard nothing.

�� I wonder if Granger knows he�s here? Then
Draco dismissed what could have been an interesting possibility. Of course she does. One of them would never
act without the other.

�� I don�t
owe you that,� Weasley finally said, measuring the words as though he assumed
that would make them easier to speak. �I owe you nothing. But I offered the information about what House Harry was
going to be Sorted into. Isn�t that enough?�

�� You�re
trying to make bargains by trading on your friends��excuse me, former
friends��secrets,� Draco said. �I don�t think you get to take the moral high
ground.�

�� He paused
courteously, but Weasley had nothing to say. Draco nodded and continued his
journey, sighing in relief when he could close the door of Severus�s rooms
behind him.

�� Did you
learn anything of interest?� Severus was bending over the cauldron in his
portrait, frowning. Draco watched the cloud of white smoke that surrounded him
and decided that he had no reason to intervene in the brewing process, yet. The
smoke had a color and consistency that would have worried Draco, but he didn�t
know exactly what Severus was trying to make.

�� The
Ministry representative is a Slytherin who feels no loyalty to the traditions
of the House,� Draco said, and sat down in a chair close to the fire. He felt
pleasantly amused, but also restless. Perhaps Covington�s wine had affected him
more than he�d thought. �And Weasley stopped me on the way back and wanted me
to talk Potter into reconciling with him and Granger.�

�� Severus
stared. �He thought you would do
that?�

�� Draco
laughed. �People do persist in thinking that I have some inner sense of
decency. Why, I can�t imagine.�

�� Severus
leaned nearer, hands braced on the rim of the cauldron. �I remember what you
did during the war, Draco. I know what you refrained from doing.�

�� That�s the
point, though,� Draco said softly, holding his eyes without effort. He had
begun to lose his awe of Severus-the-man by spending a few hours around
Severus-as-portrait, and his guilt for not coming sooner. He couldn�t make up
for his mistakes by cowering before a portrait. Severus himself was gone, and
the part of him left behind an inferior reflection. �I refrained from doing some things. That isn�t the same thing as
actively helping the cause that you fought for.�

�� After a few
seconds, Severus nodded and once again retreated to the side of the cauldron.
�Did Weasley offer you any enticement to do as he asked?� he murmured in a
neutral tone, sounding more preoccupied with his potion than anything else.

�� What House
Potter was supposed to be Sorted into, before he chose Gryffindor,� Draco said.
�He mentioned it in the context of a rant to show that children who might be
Sorted into Slytherin after the school reopened could always choose another House, and then he regretted the mention and
tried to reverse himself, and then he tried to use it as a bargaining chip. I
can understand why Potter turned his back on that mass of inconsistent impulses
and incoherent ideas.�

�� That is an
easy answer,� Severus said. He picked up something green and soft and plunged
it into the potion, releasing an enormous cloud of steam. Draco, watching him,
wondered idly where he got his ingredients. Perhaps there were portraits that
showed the Forbidden Forest and other points of possible collection. �Albus
told me once, when he was trying to convince me to �bond� with Potter.� He
rolled his eyes. �Supposedly, the Hat wanted him for Slytherin.�

�� Draco
blinked. �I can�t see�� he began, and then stopped, thinking of the brutal words
that Potter had spoken to his friends today and the anger that powered his
magic. �I can see it,� he decided.
�Slytherins don�t always have to be subtle.�

�� I doubt
the information matters,� Severus said, and with a fluid shrug, he deposited one
more green and soft object in the potion. The white steam vanished. Draco
smiled. He should have remembered that the portrait-painting process would
probably not have taken away Severus�s skill as a brewer. �Potter chose
Gryffindor. He is the product of that choice, not a non-existent one where he
acceded to the Hat�s suggestion.�

�� Yes,
perhaps,� Draco said, and then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes,
mind turning, for lack of other material, to the riddle that Severus and
Dumbledore had given them.

�� Where sun and shadow end.

�� It could
refer to a cave, perhaps, but Draco didn�t know any caves on the grounds of
Hogwarts�and he was going to assume that this place was close to Hogwarts until
he had some solid evidence otherwise. It could also refer to the dungeons, but
since those were enclosed within the body of the school, Draco didn�t see the
point of singling them out specifically. And besides, there were places in the
dungeons, such as these altered rooms, that brought in sunlight through the
enchanted windows.

�� Or were
Dumbledore and Severus thinking only of the school as it had looked in their
time, and discounting any other changes?

�� Draco
grimaced and rubbed his head. He wished that there was some way to be sure of
what places they could safely eliminate, but there wasn�t. He would have to go
ahead and hope that Potter was coming up with better ideas.

�� His
immediate temptation was to snort to himself and mock the idea, but then he
reconsidered the information Severus had given him, and Weasley, and what he
had heard, and temperately decided that he wouldn�t make any judgments on
Potter�s intelligence until he had to.

�� Among other
things, that gave him more hope that they might actually manage to solve the
riddles.

*

�� Harry had
woke late enough to miss any plausible meeting, so he ate alone in his rooms,
turning the riddle over in his mind. It seemed odd to him that Dumbledore and
Snape would have talked about a place where sun and shadow ended, instead of where they never came. That suggested sunlight
could get into the place, but not go all the way.

�� What would prevent it? Another barrier of
darkness? A human-created barrier? And why did they specify shadow? And why
sunlight? Why not say other kinds of light, like lamps?

�� Harry
licked a smear of potato from his lip and decided that he couldn�t yet decide
for certain what the riddle meant. What he could
do was make a list of the places around Hogwarts that the riddle might
mean. He pushed his empty plate aside and picked up the ink and parchment
again.

�� There was
the cave that Sirius had hidden in during his fourth year; that might count, if
you thought about a place where the sunlight stopped coming in because it faded
away into the darkness. And maybe the Astronomy Tower, because of the way the
stairway curved and suddenly left you inside the stone, but Harry couldn�t
believe that anyone going up and down the stairs wouldn�t have noticed it
before this. After all, Dumbledore had said they would be in a fight to the
death when they found the secret.

�� In fact, Harry thought as he scratched
out the Tower on his list, that would
apply to any place within Hogwarts. I can�t imagine the Ministry hasn�t entered
most of the places in it, looking for the key that will let them unlock the
Sorting Hat and the rest of those things.

�� There might
be possibilities in those places that no one had entered, though. Harry wrote
down the Room of Requirement and circled it.

�� There was
also the Forbidden Forest. Harry grimaced at the thought of wandering through the
whole of it until they located the place. He didn�t think Dumbledore and Snape
would require them to do that, but considering how paranoid they had been with
the rest of the precautions, it might be possible.

�� Where else?
Harry leaned back, tapping his quill against his teeth, and had to admit that
he couldn�t think of many more likely places. Yes, you could shut sunlight off
by closing a door, but the shadows would still be there if there was any light
source anywhere in the space. And the sunlight could come back the minute you
opened the door again. That was stopping it,
not ending it.

�� Unless
maybe the difference between the words �stop� and �end� wasn�t important.

�� Harry blew
out his breath and shook his head. He was getting angry again, because he was
frustrated, and that was the last thing he needed right now. He shoved the
parchment away from him, cast defensive charms around the table, the chair, and
the bed, and then set about doing what he could to relieve his own frustration.

�� His magic
writhed and danced as he cast the spells, creating chains as thick as his thumb
and made of shining blue-black steel. Harry grimaced and wound them around his
wrists. They wouldn�t do the job, of course. His magic could break anything
formed of his magic. He couldn�t be held back as he really needed to be.

�� But this
was still the best solution. He could hardly go for another run through the
Forbidden Forest right now. He attached the chains to the outside of the
defensive charms on the bed and then threw his wand from him.

�� Immediately,
he felt anxiety stirring in his muscles, the memory of how Voldemort had bound
him in the graveyard rushing to the forefront of his mind. Harry panted, sweat
on his forehead and his collarbone and under his arms. He would have liked
something to rest his forehead against, and Bradley usually provided it, but he
wouldn�t get it here. This was a compromise, one that wouldn�t last long.

�� But while
it lasted, it might help him and remove some of the coiling, crackling tension
that was the real problem.

�� He lunged
forwards against the chains. They creaked, but held. Harry lunged again, then
forced himself backwards and thrashed from side to side, concentrating on
trying to find the weak points among the thick links or in the cuffs that
covered his arms.

�� There was
none�at least yet. And Harry felt that sensation he didn�t know how to define
except as a burst of freedom pass through him, white behind his eyes, cool and
still when it reached his heart, and for a few seconds he was calm.

�� He had to
fight the bonds, but he also needed them. In fact, he needed them to be strong
enough that he couldn�t break free. Once bound, once past the first moments
when instinct and fear made him struggle, then it was as if the bonds of his
anger shattered to compensate.

�� Bradley
hadn�t liked doing this, although he was willing to accommodate Harry in some
other things and Harry had done �worse� for him in the past. The bonds should
always be weak enough to snap with a single pull, was his view. In fact, he
preferred string to anything else. It was the symbolic importance of the
binding that he liked.

�� But Harry
needed chains.

�� The moment
of relaxation was passing. Harry could remember the ropes that Voldemort had used
to tie him down, the rough hemp rubbing against his skin, how he hadn�t been
able to move but had struggled desperately to get away. Past bled into present,
and he threw his weight against the chains again.

�� This time,
they parted. Either the magic he�d used in the creation of them or the magic
that they�d been attached to simply wasn�t strong enough. Harry sprawled on the
floor in the midst of the rapidly dissipating links and took a few quick
breaths, preparing a lie in case anyone from the Three Broomsticks should come
up to see what the noise was about.

�� Sometimes
he thought these brief moments of respite were actually worse than simply
suppressing and controlling his anger until he could find someone else to do it
for him. They made him remember and crave what he couldn�t have, and desire
would join the anger, resulting in a still more unstable combination.

�� At other
times, he had tried buying his own chains, but his magic would simply undo
those just when he was falling into true peace, because it interpreted his
giving up as a sign that he was surrendering and had to have help.

�� Harry
rocked back on his heels and shook his head. He didn�t think he would ever find
somebody who understood why he wanted to be tied up and ordered about, but also
why he had to fight it in the beginning. He knew
there were people who could lie down on the floor and become submissive as
easily as they could go to sleep. But he wasn�t one of them.

�� Well. He
had got this far without a person who permanently understood him. In fact,
permanent understanding was probably an illusion anyway. Look at how his
�unbreakable� friendship with Ron and Hermione had turned out.

�� Sour again,
but deciding that was better than angry, Harry went back to studying the list
of likely places the riddle could be referring to.

*

�� This? You call this a likely candidate?�

�� Potter
nodded and didn�t turn around, which somewhat disappointed Draco. He would have
thought his question deserving of at least some of the anger Potter had shown
in front of Weasley and Granger.

�� But Potter
seemed more self-contained today in general. He had met Draco in front of the
school at nine, listened to his tale of the meeting with Covington without a
flicker of his eyebrows, nodded, and then led the way to the cave he had said
might be the place where sun and shadow ended.

�� I don�t
call it a likely candidate.� Potter�s voice was muffled as he drove further
into the small cave�if you could call it a cave. Draco would have called it a
scratch in the side of a hill. �I call it a place we have to investigate, just
in case. After all, both sun and shadow end here when the sunlight runs out.�

�� But the
riddle spoke as though sun and shadow were separate,� Draco said, lounging
against the entrance of the cave with his arms folded. He was more than willing
to let Potter be the dirty one. �Not both ending because one ends.�

�� How do we
know that?� Potter looked over his shoulder, tossing dust out of his hair. For
some reason, Draco�s mouth went dry, and he would have frowned in confusion had
he been by himself. He usually preferred scrupulously clean partners. He had to
put this eccentricity aside in his brain for his own contemplation, later.
�Remember, these are portraits, and we didn�t know the originals so well that
we can say what they intended with such a simple riddle.�

�� I knew
Severus that well,� Draco said simply, concealing his irritation that Potter
had been the one to remind him about the limitations of portraits instead of
the other way around. �I�m sure that�s what it means.�

�� How did
you come to know him?� Potter sat back against the wall of the cave and cast a
spell that created a ball of glowing pink light which ventured further in.
Draco opened his mouth to ask what that was for, and then closed it again. Of
course. Potter wanted to see if he could trigger the traps that Dumbledore and
Severus had spoken of.

�� When we
were running from the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters,� Draco said. �He spoke of
many different things, and while he never mentioned the riddles or the wards, I
got a good glimpse of how his mind worked.�

�� Potter�s
mouth curved to the side in an ugly sneer. �What, Malfoy, you�re still afraid
of saying Voldemort?�

�� Draco let
the words sail past his ear, and then responded calmly, �I respect the power of
his name, yes.�

�� Why?�
Potter scrambled to his feet, hands planted against the cave wall as if he
would hurl himself off it in Draco�s direction. Draco wondered whether there
was something special behind this, or whether Potter had simply gone without
his daily dose of anger and needed it now. �He isn�t someone you need to respect.�

�� It�s not
about him,� Draco said. �It�s about what that name meant to me for two years,
the absolute dread it stirred up in me, the fear that he would kill my parents.
I won�t name him for the same reason that you don�t usually talk about the
subjects of your nightmares.�

�� Potter�s
jaw went slack while he stared at Draco. Draco couldn�t help thinking it was
more attractive clenched.

�� Then Potter
said, �Yeah. I understand that,� and turned away, throwing a few more balls of
light into the cave�s interior.

�� Draco eyed
his back in silence, let him waste his time a little more, and then said, �So.
Why did you refuse to be Sorted into Slytherin?�

�� Potter went
still and tilted his head as if listening to a far-off call. Then he said, �I
should have known one of them would betray me further.�

�� Draco
paused, then pressed on. �I asked you a question.�

�� You hardly
need to ask, do you?� Potter said, and then waved his wand. A flare of yellow
light illuminated the cave to the furthest corner, and another incantation
should have made any wards present glow. Nothing happened. Draco nodded. He had
argued from the beginning that this cave couldn�t be the place. �You were
there. You�d taunted the first person who�d ever been friendly to me, and you�d
acted as though you were better, superior. And Hagrid told me about Voldemort.
Of course I wasn�t going to go into your House, and his.�

�� Draco
tapped his fingers against his arm. He had expected some more complex
motivation than a childish grudge, or a childish fear.

�� Then he
wanted to laugh. Severus would say that
you�ve been influenced too much by knowledge of his House affiliation. It
doesn�t matter that he could have Sorted Slytherin. He didn�t actually become
one.

�� Ah,� Draco
said. �And what did you argue with your friends about?�

�� Go fuck
yourself,� Potter said in a friendly voice. �It�s not here. Why don�t we try
the Room of Requirement?�

*

�� Harry
couldn�t understand the way Malfoy was leaning on him.

�� Well, not
literally on him. That would have
been stupid. Harry would have shrugged, or made his skin hot with his magic,
and Malfoy would have fallen to the ground or howled the way Ron had when Harry
burned his hand the other day, and that would have been the end of it.

�� But he was
asking him questions and then studying him as if Harry was one of the
experimental potions he had talked about brewing. Whether he got an answer or
not, he had a habit of nodding solemnly. Harry had the impression that he was
absorbing information Harry gave him through his silences, his eyes, the
movement of his hands. He didn�t actually need
to speak for Malfoy to know him.

�� And he
hadn�t stopped when they left the cave�where Harry had imagined that his
questions were the result of boredom�and moved to the Room of Requirement.
Harry was currently prowling up and down before the door, trying to imagine the
kind of place that Snape and Dumbledore might have hidden the damn key. Malfoy
leaned against the wall behind him and asked his infuriating questions.

�� Do you
ever regret asking the Hat not to put you in Slytherin?�

�� How can I,
when it would have meant more contact with you?� Harry closed his eyes and
tried as hard as he could to remember all the random remarks Dumbledore had
made to him over the years, especially during his sixth year. On the other
hand, he also had to keep in mind that the riddle demanded a place where sun
and shadow ended.

�� That�s not
a compelling reason,� Malfoy said, as if he were a philosopher instead of a
Potions master. �You couldn�t know at the time what more contact with me might
have meant. You might have ended up a brilliant researcher. You could have
defeated the Dark Lord more easily by being involved with the children of his
inner circle.�

�� Or I could
have been corrupted by you, and by now we�d all be serving him,� Harry said,
and fixed an image in his mind. It was based on the first thing Dumbledore had
ever said to him about the Room, so he hoped that it might have more usefulness
than some of the other random projections. He started stalking up and down the
corridor. One.

�� Which
could have its usefulness,� Malfoy said in the same smooth, unruffled tone.

�� Yes,�
Harry agreed. �For one thing, you might have been exiled to the other side of
the world to marry a pure-blood bride in India or something. And we wouldn�t
have to be here solving stupid riddles.� Two.

�� Malfoy
didn�t speak again, though Harry could feel that burning stare on the back of
his head. He ignored it. Three.

�� The door
appeared, a tiny, low thing with an arched frame and a brass handle. Harry
shook his head�he couldn�t guess what the room would look like from the outside
only based on the door�and grabbed the handle. A tingling bolt of energy zipped
up his arm, which made him hope that there was considerable magic behind the
wood.

�� He opened
it.

�� The room
inside was dim, with sunlight and shadow both filtering through the windows and
then halting precisely short of the center of the chamber. Harry heard a
menacing click and rustle there, and licked his lips. Maybe this was the fight
to the death that Dumbledore and Snape had been talking about. He drew his wand
and started to move forwards.

�� Malfoy
grabbed his arm, squeezing down. Harry gasped and stood still, his eyes
half-shutting despite himself. The power behind his hand said that Malfoy
didn�t care how much he hurt Harry, or thought he could take it.

�� It had been
so long since Harry experienced those things at the hands of someone he didn�t
pay. In fact, right now he couldn�t remember if he�d ever experienced them just like that. His knees weakened and a dark
purple cloak seemed to cross over his vision. He swayed and tried to fall.

�� Hold still, Potter,� Malfoy snarled in his
ear, and Harry was more than happy to obey. �What are those things? Where did
you bring us?�

�� Harry
dragged in a shivering breath and managed, from a great distance, to remind
himself that he couldn�t do this, couldn�t give in and treat Malfoy like
someone who had agreed to help him. Malfoy might have done this accidentally,
but he wasn�t even as knowledgeable as Bradley, who had never understood why
Harry required this. Harry had to be normal, had to snatch the moment of relief
and not expect any more of it.

�� He�d had a
lot of practice at that, fortunately. So his voice was calm when he said,
�Dumbledore mentioned the Room of Requirement once, when he first talked about
it, as a place where he�d found a lot of chamber pots when he really needed
them.�

�� Malfoy was
silent. Harry knew it was the silence of disbelief, and that helped him to move
a bit further away from the private meaning of the hand on his arm and the
snarled orders in his ear. He broke free and listened. There was a menacing
gurgle of water from the center of the room, and a noise like a jug slowly
tipping over.

�� So��
Malfoy said.

�� So I
brought us to a room that combined that memory and the answer to the riddle.�
Harry took a step forwards and turned his head. �It�s as likely a hiding place
as any other. Are you coming?�

�� No,�
Malfoy said flatly. �It can�t be here. There�s no way that anyone could be expected
to hit on the right combination of needs, and the riddles are supposed to be difficult to solve, not impossible.�

�� Harry
rolled his eyes. �Do you have any better idea right now? One that doesn�t
involve walking through the Forbidden Forest for months and hoping to bump into
the key? I don�t know about you, but I do have a life to get back to.� He moved another step forwards. The gurgling
noise repeated.

�� Malfoy
clamped his hand down so hard that Harry knew there would be bruises left. That
triggered his other set of reflexes, to fight, and he twisted his arm, forcing
Malfoy to let go. �What are those things?�

�� Harry
started to answer, but one of the �things� flailed into the light and showed
well enough what it was.

�� It had a
squat, brass body and a mouth in the middle of it accented with long pointed
teeth and an equally long and equally pointed tongue. It stuck the tongue out
at them, wriggled it, and then launched itself into the air.

�� Harry swung
his wand and cast a curse that sliced through the body of the thing. It fell at
his feet, squirming, dying, tongue cut by the teeth. Both faded away when it
�died� and left an ordinary object lying there.

�� Predatory
chamber pots,� Malfoy said. �Bloody predatory
chamber pots.�

�� Two more of
them flew through the air, and Harry swirled his wand and created a rope of
fire that tugged them into each other and boiled them both into a sticky mass
of metal. As it crashed to the floor, Malfoy propelled Harry backwards and
slammed the door. They heard several angry thumps against the door before it
vanished.

�� That might
have been our chance, you fucker,� Harry said when he could get his breath. It
was a while since he had fought for his life, though dealing with his magic and
retaining his Auror training had helped. He moved further away from Malfoy,
conscious of what might happen if he stayed close, and flicked sweat from his
forehead.

�� It
wasn�t,� Malfoy said flatly. �Dumbledore was strange, yes, and might expect
people to guess what he meant based on nothing, but Severus was logical and
would have tempered his oddities. The �where sun and shadow end� has to mean
something else.�

�� Fine.�
Harry turned away and started pacing the corridor so that he wouldn�t have to
look at Malfoy. �What would you suggest? What can block both sunlight and
shadow? Walls, stone, something that eats both?�

�� Or a place
where they naturally run out.� Malfoy had retreated to his cool tone again. �I
told you, I think the use of the phrase �end� rather than �stop� significant.�

�� If it was
a place where they naturally ran out, then I�d think the riddle would have used
�stop,�� Harry pointed out, and had the rare pleasure of seeing Malfoy look
flustered.

�� What
suggestions do you have, then?� Malfoy folded his arms and tilted his head
forwards as though granting Harry the nod that began a duel.

�� Harry
smiled back. He had reason to know that his smiles were unnerving, but to his
disappointment, Malfoy did nothing more than shake his head as if slightly
irritated. �I suggest that we think about what can end light,� Harry said. �Darkness, obviously. Night. But what about
a place?�

�� A spell
that imitates the effects of darkness or night,� Malfoy said, a bit of the ice
melting from his features as he became interested in the conversation. Harry
wondered for a moment if that was all it would have taken when they were boys
to become friends with him, and then snorted. Malfoy had been interested in distinctly different
things at that point. �Or a potion. Or a curse.�

�� Harry bit
his tongue on the temptation to say that a spell and a curse were basically the
same thing in this scenario. Malfoy was trying to help, although he was largely
incompetent at cooperating with anyone. �Or something within the place itself,
some quality that acts like a spell
or a potion. Maybe somewhere tilted, with a line of earth or trees that
naturally interrupts it, like the horizon interrupting sunset?� Then Harry
paused and frowned. �But a place like that would cast a long shadow.�

�� Yes,�
Malfoy said, with a shallow nod, and began to pace back and forth, every line
of his body bent in ferocious thought. �But the thought of a place that stops
light by its nature is a good one.�

�� Harry
closed his eyes. It felt as though the answer ought to be obvious, especially
if they could restrict themselves to looking inside Hogwarts�s grounds, but�

�� Then he
opened his eyes and smiled.

�� Malfoy
noticed the smile, somehow, though as far as Harry could tell, his head had
been turned away at the time. He whipped around and went still, eyes blazing as
though he could will Harry to tell him what he�d just thought of.

�� Harry felt
a sharp tingle streak through his legs, as though someone had hit him in the
back of his knees. Malfoy couldn�t compel him with a gaze, no, but with words�

�� Then Harry
put aside that thought as too ludicrous to consider, and said softly, �The
lake.�

*

�� Draco
swallowed the last of the potion that he�d brewed that morning and held the
next vial out to Potter. Potter, standing on the shore and staring at the water
as if hypnotized, didn�t notice. Draco had to nudge him sharply in the ribs to
get him to turn around.

�� Potter
leaped and whirled as he did so, coming down on his feet like a startled cat.
His eyes shone with a dim reflection of the coruscating green flame that
surrounded his body as it had on the first day they were here. Draco eyed it in
appreciation and held out the vial, wondering if he would feel heat as his hand
approached the fire.

�� To his
disappointment, the fire vanished before he could touch it. Potter inclined his
head, took the potion, and examined it for a moment, murmuring a charm, before
he drank. Testing for the presence of poison, Draco assumed.

�� This will
help us breathe under the water?� Potter asked when he finished. He acted as if
he would toss the glass vial aside, but Draco rescued it with a quick motion of
his arm. Potter returned his glare with interest. It was as if the brief moment
of calm and joining thoughts yesterday when they had worked out the solution to
the riddle had never happened.

�� Oddly,
Draco found himself wanting to hold both that brief space of time and Potter�s
gaze. The air between them felt charged the way it did when lightning was about
to strike. Potter�s breathing quickened, and the flames appeared on his
shoulders again. Draco took a step forwards, not sure what would happen, but
willing to take the risk. He took a greater chance every time he approached his
sentient potion, after all.

�� Then Potter
abruptly snapped his head to the side, breaking the connection, and said,
�Well?�

�� Draco
sighed. The circumstances would have been easier without the dancing, leaping
connection he and Potter shared, as they would have been easier without the
slippery Covington. She had invited him to dinner again last night and offered
him all sorts of vague promises and threats that it would be child�s play for
the Ministry to deny later.

�� Yes, it
will,� he said. �It�s more reliable than gillyweed, and will leave us able to
talk and fight.�

�� Potter
nodded, then leaped into the water as though the surface had taunted him. Draco
frowned and followed, after casting one more spell on himself that would keep
his robes dry. It was Potter�s fault if he got his clothing wet.

�� When Draco
was beneath the surface, he had to concentrate and press down on his chest to
force his lungs to release their trapped air. Then water rushed in his mouth
instead, an unpleasant sensation he had never cared for. He grew used to it
after a few breaths and looked around for Potter.

�� Potter had
a flushed face, as if he had fought his own battle over the sensation of
water-breathing and barely conquered. He had also shed his robes and was
folding them into a tight packet that he tossed back onto the shore. Beneath,
he wore only a light pair of trousers that presumably wouldn�t interfere with
his swimming.

�� Draco eyed
him in appreciation, at least when Potter had his head turned away and couldn�t
notice. Potter�s chest was covered with a snaking tracery of scars that mostly
seemed to spiral down from his shoulders and collect in the center of his
chest. They intrigued Draco. He would have recognized the marks of most cutting
spells and whips, and these resembled none of them. If he had to hazard a guess,
he would have said they were most similar to the marks of acid on a test piece
of parchment.

�� Let�s go,�
Potter said gruffly, facing Draco again. He caught his eye only briefly,
frowned at whatever he saw there, and then dived. Draco swam close behind him,
casting Lumos on his wand as they
left both light and shadow behind.

�� The water
closed in, constant pressure, the feeling of blankets entangled about one�s
limbs. Draco drew his breath in slowly and let it out as slowly. He could swim
well, at his father�s insistence, but he had never before gone this deep.

�� Potter, the
git, seemed utterly at home, and it took Draco long moments to remember that he
had been here before, when he had to rescue Weasley from the lake in their
fourth year.

�� Determined
to show that he could swim as well as Potter could, Draco drew up beside him.
The only thing he received for his trouble was a single impatient glance.
Potter started to open his mouth. Draco assumed it was to scold, and braced
himself for insults.

�� The trap
struck then.

�� The water
around them glittered, and Draco turned his head to pursue the glittering. The
whole point of the riddle was supposed to be that there was no light down this
far, after all. But it continued to move and gleam, and then he saw the lake
itself form into enormous, heaving creatures, with coil after liquid coil.

�� Draco swore
and reached for his wand, but one loop of body had already reached out and
bound his arms to his sides. He flexed his fingers once, then clenched his right
hand down so that he wouldn�t drop his wand into the depths of the lake. With
one weapon rendered useless, he would simply have to try others. His left hand
was close to a pocket. He scrabbled at it with his fingers, managing to pry it
open.

�� Movement again
caught his eye, and Draco looked up.

�� Potter was
dancing in the water, moving as if in a play, opposite an enormous silvery-blue
serpent made of water. The serpent swayed its head back and forth, eyes focused
only on Potter. Draco stared. He knew Potter was creating a distraction, but he
wasn�t sure how he was doing it.

�� Then
Draco�s ears caught up with his brain. The potion he had chosen was one that
would allow him and Potter to speak beneath the water so that their spells and
warnings wouldn�t turn into meaningless bubbles, but apparently it was also
good for other things.

�� Such as
conveying the sibilant words of Parseltongue.

�� Draco
floated in the motionless coils of the beast holding him, feeling as trapped
and drugged as it apparently was, and watched.

*

�� Harry had
felt a smile break across his face when he saw the trap. Yes, the snakes were
formidable opponents and there was no reason to assume that he would be able to
communicate with them as he could with normal snakes, or control them, but he
had smiled anyway.

�� This was a
place that he could use his magic,
and thus use up some of the power racing and battering against the limits of
his body.

�� I am master here,� he told the serpent
that had lashed towards him, and it had hesitated long enough that he could
continue. �Do you doubt it? Could the
ones who made you and set you here speak to you as I can? Could they make their
wills known in your own tongue? Bow down to me. It is what you wish to do.�

�� The snake
whipped its tail in a circle, then slowly edged towards him, head dipping up
and down as though it was examining his hands for signs of food. Harry laughed
and kept up the stream of Parseltongue, knowing that he couldn�t expect to
control a magical creature right away with a command so simple.

�� Has no one ever come to see you since they
set you here? Have they not enchanted you, charmed you, thanked you for your
service?� He backed up in the water, floating down with small waves of his
hands, not daring to take his eyes off the serpent in case it suddenly changed
direction. He wondered where Malfoy was, but had no time to contemplate. This
was his task, ensuring the snakes didn�t attack them, and Malfoy would have to
handle himself for the moment.

�� The serpent
never responded, but continued to dance opposite him, slowly settling into a
regular pattern. Harry propelled himself sideways, then down, then up again,
letting the movement of the water around him join in the pattern. The words,
too, resumed their own pattern, so soft and regular that Harry wondered if
anyone hearing the Parseltongue from the outside could isolate the individual
words.

�� Yes, it�s better when you have someone to
speak to you. Someone who cares for you as a creature, someone who will see you
as more than a guard. Someone to be your master and cradle you in words that
hiss. Yes, it�s better when you have someone to speak to you��

�� Harry
repeated himself until he knew his throat would be sore if he was speaking
English, and twisted to the side slowly. He spotted Malfoy, caught in the coils
of another serpent. Like the first one, it was bobbing its head in time to
Harry�s words, watching him.

�� Harry
licked his lips. He couldn�t keep this up forever, and so far the snakes hadn�t
shown any intent to attack. He would just have to hope that his control was
strong enough over them for what he needed to do next.

�� Down. Leave us.�

�� The snakes
paused, their heads slowly curving to the side and then staying poised. The one
in front of Harry swam closer to him, and he saw the coils forming again,
glistening like Mrs. Weasley�s ice cream.

�� Leave us,� Harry said sharply. �If you wish me not to tire of your company and
never to speak to you again, leave us.�

�� The snakes
remained still for long moments more. Harry could feel them all but
reconsidering what he had said to them, if magical creatures formed of water
could be said to consider anything. He had no idea what would happen next, and
would have held his breath if he thought it would do any good.

�� Then the
snake unwrapped from Malfoy and passed into the depths of the lake like a wave
running parallel. The snake in front of Harry followed it, with one mournful
glance from large crystalline eyes as though to say that he hadn�t had to scold
it like that to get it to leave. Harry shook his head and turned to Malfoy.

�� The key to
the riddle ought to be around here somewhere,� he said. �Where would you
suggest looking?�

*

�� Draco
stared at Potter for long, intense moments without moving. He knew he owed his
life to Potter�s quick thinking�and the coincidence of Severus and Dumbledore
setting snakes as guards when Potter could speak Parseltongue�but that was
nothing unusual. He owed life-debts to Potter from the war, still.

�� No, what he
wanted to contemplate was the fact that Potter had come through the battle and
yet looked completely calm, as though this was an everyday occurrence for him.
His magic didn�t boil the water around him. He floated in place without a sign
of undue agitation. Draco wondered whether fighting for his life was an outlet
for his anger, and why it would be so. Could his anger be connected to his
magic alone?

�� Where do
you think it is, Malfoy?�

�� At Potter�s
languidly patient question, Draco forced himself back into motion. Potter�s
face was flushed now, his hands clenched as though he wanted to beat Draco for
staying silent. They would lose or at least waste time if they argued now.

�� Draco
turned to study the water where the serpents had been hovering. It made no
sense that they had attacked them at this point in the lake unless the secret
they guarded was close at hand, and Draco didn�t think they had to destroy the
serpents to find it, no matter what Dumbledore had said about a fight to the death.
Such guardians as those could only be driven away for a time, not destroyed.

�� Another
glitter caught his eye, this time like light flashing off a diamond. Draco
smiled grimly, held his wand up, and performed the Summoning Charm.

�� The ring
that tumbled towards him through the water glowed only with magical light;
being in the lake for years had tarnished it. Draco recognized it, though.
Severus had worn the ring a few times when he gave private lectures to the
Slytherins, mostly to fill them with curiosity and dread about what it might
mean.

�� The dark
stone on the top still twisted. Draco wrenched it to the side and shook it. A
tiny bubble floated out, enclosing a piece of magically protected parchment.
Draco smiled and reached inside the cavity the stone had covered, and a second
bubble came to hand, cradling a smaller twist of paper.

�� One of
these will be a word or words to unlock the wards,� he told Potter. �The other
will be the next riddle.�

�� Potter
nodded slowly. �I never would have thought of opening the ring,� he admitted.
�You�re smarter than you look, Malfoy.�

�� For a
moment, just a moment, the look on
his face was open admiration, the flush on his cheeks possible to take as
symptomatic of something other than anger.

�� Draco experienced
a flash of a vision, not dissimilar from the ones he received when he came up
with a new potion. This one, though, showed not a list of ingredients, an
altered recipe, or a finished potion, but Potter kneeling at his feet, staring
up at him with that same expression. His hands were behind his back as if bound
there, and his magic crackled and danced around him, kept within strict limits,
on Draco�s orders alone.

�� He turned
his gaze to the side and kept it there for a moment, hoping Potter had not
noticed the change in his expression. �I knew this ring from the time that
Severus wore it,� he said shortly. �Come.� He swam towards the surface.

�� Potter
followed him, but slowly. Draco almost wondered, later, if he�d had a
premonition of his best friends and Covington waiting for them by the shore of
the lake.

*

�� SP777: Of
course! That�s why I made the name up.

�� Harry is
under a lot of stress right now, and events in the next chapter are going to
push him pretty close to the edge.

�� I haven�t
thought about a fic like that, but it�s an interesting idea.

�� qwerty:
Thank you!

�� Mehla
Seraphim: Hermione is trying to help Harry, by her lights, but it�s not the
best way that she could have gone about it.

�� This will
probably be seven or eight chapters.

�� I might
write a story like that someday.

�� W�lkchen:
Thank you! What Harry does was referenced in the other chapter, but I agree
that it�s probably easier to see with the example in front of you.

�� purple-er:
Thanks for reviewing.

�� Night the
Storyteller: Hermione doesn�t think kinky sex itself is abnormal, but she sees
it as a problem with Harry because of his twisted relationship with authority
figures (people who abused or manipulated him).

�� Well, I
think you have a glimpse now of how Draco might �tame� Harry.

�� angelmuziq:
Harry years for power over himself most of all. He hates that he can�t control
his anger, and he acknowledges that the methods he�s chosen aren�t the best,
but he�s tried and exhausted other avenues.

�� Anon:
Hermione believes Harry is unhealthy in general with the way that he approaches
authority figures�more on that in Chapter 4�and wants him to have more �normal�
responses. If he did that and then still continued to find release in being
dominated, she might not be as worried. As it is, she thinks that he�s using
the people he has sex with as substitutes for Dumbledore and the Dursleys.

�� And don�t
worry, I understood.

�� Early_Dawn:
Thank you!

�� Lara: Thank
you so much! I�m glad that you�re continuing to enjoy the stories after such a
long time reading them.

�� Ron,
Hermione, Harry, and Draco are all caught in their own individual viewpoints
right now, though Draco probably has the closest thing to an objective one.
Poor Ron and Hermione; they do want their friend back, but they�ll have to
confront that they alienated him rather than just expecting him to get over his
anger and apologize. They know he can hold grudges.
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Chosen Chains