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Ashborn	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 36151 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty—The Ministry by Storm

            “I do not like this.”

            Harry winced at the way Corners’s hiss echoed in his mind. Come to that, he wasn’t fond himself of being in the presence of one of Snape’s—fine, Severus’s—blankly staring Ashborn. He was a tall man called Ignatius Yaxley who had never been among the Death Eaters Harry and his friends had fought. According to Snape, he had spent most of his time during the war filing reports and paperwork on the movements of Ministry Aurors. That made this a little better in some ways, worse in others. Part of Harry might have taken some satisfaction in seeing someone he hated chained like that.

            Not a part that he liked to think existed, but a part he knew was there, and had made his peace with. Somewhat.

            “Did you hear me?” Corners brought him back to the present, darting his tongue out to splash against Harry’s eyebrow. “I don’t want to work with him!”

            Harry smiled at Corners and reached up to place one hand on the side of his neck, or at least do something that was as near as he could come without breaking the surface tension. “I hate to ask this,” he said. “But will you do it, for me? Go along with him, and let him swim with you. He’ll have all the magic he needs to do that.”

            “Wizard magic can’t make someone who will keep up with me.” Corners turned his head away, and his tongue flickered out again, tapping against the far wall this time, and leaving strings of wetness that slid down towards the bed.

            “I know, I know,” Harry soothed him. “And I realize that I’m asking you for a lot, because I’m asking you to put up with this. But Snape’s magic really is the best there is for keeping someone like this committed to swimming and nothing else. No wizard can keep up with you, but this one won’t trail as far behind as some others.”

            He tasted bile in his throat as he thought about that, but swallowed it down again. Yes, he could insist that all of Snape’s Ashborn be freed now, and that would accomplish exactly nothing except to make him feel confirmed in his own righteousness. Snape wouldn’t do it, and Harry would lose the fragile influence over him that might persuade Snape to act in that way just because Harry wanted him to.

            He would do what would get the Ashborn freed. And if that meant compromising himself in the short run…well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t already done things that were the equivalent of that.

            “You promise?” Corners asked. “He will swim with me and not whine about it when I outpace him?”

            “As long as you remain near enough that he can see you,” Harry promised, “then he’ll have nothing to whine about, I promise you.”

            “It is tempting to leave him behind,” Corners said, and his tongue lashed and danced in the confines of his jaws.

            “I know,” Harry said. “I can only ask you not to, and I might not ever know, if his report isn’t good enough.”

            Corners snapped and clashed his jaws again, although being what he was, it simply felt like having a dash of cold water slung in his face to Harry. Then he bowed his head, and the ripples of resignation ran through his neck as he said, “Very well. But you will not blame me when this fails, as it will.”

            “Of course not,” Harry said, although he wondered why Corners thought it doomed to failure. Well, if it did, then Harry was the one who would take up the task of explaining to Snape, both out of duty and out of necessity. “Can you take the stream out of here, so that he has a place to swim when he enters the pipes?”

            “Elaborate plans will not be necessary, Harry.”

            Harry jumped. He’d heard Snape’s voice emerge from the lips of an Ashborn before, but it still startled him no matter how times he heard it. He turned around and nodded, since he didn’t know what other gesture would be appropriate. “Fine. What plan do you have?”

            “Yaxley will Apparate to the Ministry,” said Snape, his voice so calm and controlled Harry wondered whether he ever had a reaction to anyone else except in private. Of course, that would be a natural restriction for a man who would have had to worry about what his emotions revealed, for years, to everyone but a small and special cadre of people. “Corners will reach it by whatever means he deems necessary. I will have Yaxley waiting by the entrance of the pipe that we agreed upon with a Shrinking Charm.”

            “So he can keep up,” Harry said, and then turned back and repeated the news to Corners in Parseltongue.

            “If he is small, he will have a longer distance to swim,” Corners said, with as much flatness as a snake in small, constant motion was capable of. “That is not a gain, not to me.”

            Harry repeated the objection to Snape, wishing for a moment that Snape knew Parseltongue so they could argue with each other. As it was, he could practically feel Snape pausing somewhere behind the medium of Yaxley’s eyes and lips and tongue, calming himself so that he wouldn’t snap at Harry as the bearer of bad news.

            “If he has the right spells, then he will swim no slower than a small fish,” Snape said, “And some of them are quite speedy.”

            When that was repeated, Corners tilted his head as if thinking about memories of the ocean Harry wouldn’t recognize, and then said, “Very well. I agree, as long as he has the right magic.” His tongue flicked out again, and he added, “At least someone recognizes the necessity for spells that are more than ones that ensure they breathe underwater.”

            That made Harry pause and wonder whether Corners had encountered other wizards before this, out in the middle of the ocean, just idiots who didn’t know the proper spells to communicate with one of the Water People and didn’t know what to do when they found one. But now was not the right time to ask. He stepped back and nodded to Yaxley. “Then I wish you good luck and good hunting,” he said.

            “In English, Harry,” Snape—Severus—murmured.

            Harry flushed and repeated the blessing, and Yaxley bowed to him, which was something else Harry would have to talk to Severus about. He didn’t want the Ashborn bowing and scraping to him. It was something that would probably remain in their minds when they awoke to free will in the future—if they could remember anything about their lives in captivity, which Harry had to admit was a big assumption—and Harry wanted to spit when he thought about that.

            Then again, there were more important matters to address as well.

            He turned away and sat down on his bed as Corners slithered under the wall and Yaxley Apparated. As he did so, he wondered, a little wistfully, what Draco was doing at the moment. Tonight was the evening that he was supposed to dream himself into the Forbidden Forest with Thera and meet Laughter.

            I would have liked to go.

            Harry understood the reasons Draco had refused him, and was inclined to agree that he needed his independence. But that didn’t still his wondering.

Eventually, he went to the library and started reading about the history of the pure-blood alliance, so that his leaping, nervous mind would at least be good for something. He thought about reciting that history to Draco when he came back—whole, of course, since he wasn’t going to consider what would happen if Draco got injured in the dream—and then firmly put it out of his head.

He was learning to do that quite well.

*

“Laughter, this is Thera.”

            Draco felt silly even as he made the introductions, because of course it was Thera, what other centaur would he haul with him into the middle of the Forbidden Forest? Likewise, Thera must know the leader of the Forbidden Forest werewolves through hearing Draco talk about him without Draco mentioning the name.

            But Laughter still smiled at him as if he had done something praiseworthy and rose to his haunches to extend one paw-like hand to Thera. “I like your name,” he said. “It reminds me of wild things and the scent of the rose.”

            Thera paused, and then moved closer to him, her hooves scraping and her haunches braced for what Draco thought would be a spring away if she had her way. Despite everything, she was remembering that Laughter was dangerous to a four-legged magical creature like herself in ways, Draco reckoned, that he wasn’t dangerous to a human. “I didn’t know that werewolves liked such sounds,” she said. “Or such scents.”

            “You thought we reveled in the scent of blood and killing, the sounds of the chase, and nothing else?” Laughter’s voice was gentle, but Draco watched the way his feet, still buried in the grass, flexed, and suspected it would not remain so for long.

            Draco opened his mouth to say something, worried about this meeting going wrong before it could properly begin, but Thera nodded, and her face was so sober that Draco paused, and sat back for a moment, and waited for her to speak.

            “Yes,” she said. “That is what we think of werewolves, and I think, at times, that you cannot deny there may be reasons for us to think so.” Her eyes were bright with—honesty, Draco thought, not a challenge. He wasn’t sure Laughter would recognize the distinction, though.

            He seemed to, or perhaps he could smell something in her scent that was invisible to Draco. Laughter leaned back in the grass, at least, and flicked his hand that had touched Thera’s as though he was brushing away a flea. “You are a strange diplomat,” he said. “But if the centaurs sent you, they must know what they are doing.”

            Thera smiled, a wild, strange, fey look to her face that Draco never remembered seeing before. “Sometimes my people gamble,” she said. “We are surrounded quite as much by starlight as you are by blood, and the starlight sometimes rules us.”

            Laughter inclined his head and lay down, belly-length, in the grass. “I like the way you negotiate, centaur. Shall we begin?”

            Thera lay down, too, her legs folded beneath her like a horse resting and her hands lying on her front pair of knees. Draco felt more than a little awkward as he sat beside them, but it was to him that Laughter turned first.

            “Harry Potter has returned to the alliance, I have heard reports,” he said.

            Draco carefully concealed his irritation, though from Laughter’s spiking smile, he was sure the werewolf smelled it in his scent. “Yes,” he said. “But I elected not to let him come tonight. I thought it would unbalance the meeting, and it would certainly have unbalanced the dream technique that we came up with get Thera here.” He’d had to enter Thera’s mind with Legilimency and leave perceptions of his meetings with Laughter with her to ensure that she got the clearing exactly right.

            “Quite right,” Laughter said. “He is a factor—a powerful factor—that we should deal with, but not now.” He paused, and if he had had a tail, Draco was sure he would have flicked it. “What is the matter? You look quite stunned.”

            “I—nothing,” Draco said, and shook his head in some shock. “Well, I am surprised that you don’t want him here from the very beginning.”

            “Because you are used to people who value him instead of you,” Laughter said, with all the self-assurance that didn’t make it a question. “But you are the one who has brought our negotiations this far, and that is remarkable for someone who has never done this before.”

            “I—part of that is because you like me,” Draco said. “I mean, as a person.”

            “And whose skill is that, that we like you instead of despise you?” Laughter’s smile showed a frightening amount of teeth. “Now, we will begin to discuss the boundaries of our territories, since that is likely to be the most contentious issue.” He bobbed his head in Thera’s direction. “Contribute something when you have it to contribute, Mr. Malfoy.”

            Thera smiled back at Laughter. Her teeth were flat and horse-like in the front, but it competed well with Laughter’s smile anyway.

            Draco swallowed, and folded his shaking hands in his lap. He hoped his scent didn’t give him away too much.

            This might be fun.

*

            “That’s not what I told you to do.”

            Severus paused and turned in the direction of Harry’s door again. He’d gone there intending to talk to him when Harry didn’t come to dinner, but had heard no sounds behind the door, and concluded that he must be sleeping. Now, it sounded as if he was talking to someone in a low, agitated tone, but in English? Perhaps it was to Shield. Severus had noted that Harry did not always get along with Draco’s conception of what a guardian dragon should do.

            He knocked, and the soft rustling sounds behind the door and Harry’s voice ceased at once. Then Harry seemed to remember that he was in the middle of a (relatively) secure fortress and not being hunted in the woods by the Dark Lord, and called out gamely, “Who’s there?” The worst it can be is an Ashborn, Severus could feel him mentally adding.

            “Severus,” Severus said, and waited. There was still a long hesitation before Harry undid the bolt, but all things considered, he could not blame the boy.

            Man. That was sometimes as hard for him to keep in mind as his first name appeared to be for Harry.

            Harry appeared to fill the slight crack that the door had opened to show, and gave Severus rather a sickly smile. “Severus. Um. There may be a slight problem here, especially given what Shield—hold!” He snapped the command over his shoulder with such authority that Severus found his own muscles locking. Then Harry turned around, saw him, and coughed. “Um. Corners and Yaxley found someone near the body when they arrived.”

            “I saw nothing of this,” Severus said in a low voice. Actually, he had lost contact with Yaxley almost as soon as the man passed into the Ministry, no doubt the effect of wards against Legilimency established at the height of the Dark Lord’s power. He had anticipated that, but sending the man anyway was important, to show Harry that he need not act alone.

            “I know,” Harry said, and sighed. “That’s the problem. Corners—did something when they captured this man. Something that blocked Yaxley from telling anyone else about it. And then they brought him here, because Corners thought I should be the first one to know about him, and Shield won’t stop attacking him.”

            Severus stood still for a moment, thinking about that, and then nodded. “I think you should let me come in,” he said.

            Harry eyed him as if wondering whether he would try to harm Corners or Shield for this, and then nodded, sighed, and moved away. Severus glided into the room and turned around, lifting his wand for protection against the water snake attack he thought would be coming.

            Corners, however, curled in a cup on the floor, merely watched him. Yaxley stood off to the side like a living statue, staring at the wall and now and then blinking as though he needed to work his eye muscles. Shield hovered, his wings clanging as they flapped, over a man stretched full-length on the bed. Ropes surrounded him, binding arms to sides and ankles to waist. Severus would not have used the same binding spells himself, but then, these were effective at keeping the man from moving or reaching his wand.

            He had dark eyes and dark hair, and he stared at both of them with an endless, unvarying hatred that explained Shield’s hostility to him. Severus lowered his wand as he stared back. The man’s face woke no familiarity—not surprising, when he had not seen a Prophet for several years and rarely in the months since his freedom—but the hatred was enough to convince Severus he was dangerous.

            “Has he given his name?” Severus asked over his shoulder.

            Harry snorted and moved forwards. “No. I was trying to reason with him and explain that if he wasn’t responsible for the body being there, then we could perhaps let him go—”

            Severus hid a dark smile. The man had not believed Harry, not because he thought Harry a liar but because he worked on a different level, the level himself Severus had spent his time as a spy at. Never trust the word of an enemy you hated. Either you would find a way to kill him or he would figure out that you wanted to do that and kill you. There was no way this story could have a merciful ending.

            “But he won’t talk,” Harry said. “Won’t even give his name. And it doesn’t help that I have to keep restraining Shield from killing him and wonder what Corners did to Yaxley, what kind of spell he put on him.” He shot a glance at the snake and hissed something in shivery Parseltongue.

            Corners hissed back. Severus had long since accepted that he would never understand the words and nuances of the language, and that meant all the tones—repentance, anger, and so on—sounded alike to him, but this one, he thought, had an edge of smugness.

            “Corners just says that he’ll release Yaxley when it’s time,” Harry said, and turned around with a helpless shrug. “Sorry.”

            Severus snorted, and continued to study the man on the bed. No, he was not wearing a glamour, which had been Severus’s first thought. And no gag covered his mouth, but still he would not speak. He was either a wizard of rare control or someone who knew—or thought he knew—that to speak would do him no good. His jaw firmed as Severus stared at him, and he closed his eyes as if praying for patience. Severus wished him good luck at it. If they had driven him to this state already, he might crack soon.

            “Did he impress you as someone good at Occlumency?” Severus asked Harry. “If not, then I can enter his mind and decipher what he is so anxious to hide.”

            The man’s eyes flared open, and for a moment, his hands shook inside the ropes. Then they tightened against them instead, and there was a bitter defiance, shining from the center of his soul. He knew Severus could discover his secrets, then, and did not want them discovered. Severus gave him a slow, delighted smile, and waited.

            “I—we can’t do that!” Harry said, sounding shocked. “He might be anyone, he might be innocent, why would you want to do something like that—”

            “Because if he was an innocent, he would have told you his name by now,” Severus said quietly. “Me? The Ashborn? Draco? He might despise. But you, he has no reason to suspect, unless he is part of the Ministry group that believed you dangerous and ‘rogue’ enough to destroy.”

            Harry’s eyes opened and closed helplessly. Then he said, “If you’re sure. If you think that there’s no possible way he could be innocent.”

            “No,” Severus said, drawing his wand and stepping closer to the bed. “No way at all.”

            The man ground his teeth for a moment, moving his jaw back and forth, and then said, “You’ll be idiots if you do this.” His voice was thick.

            “Why?” Severus asked. He kept his voice gentle and idle, and his wand continually moving in small circles, movements to draw the eye. Of course, Legilimency was a matter of talent and training and will, not the incantation and gestures alone. Perhaps the man did not know that, from the way he stared at Snape’s wand. Another useful clue to his background; here was a Ministry employee who knew little more of Legilimency and Occlumency than the names.

            “Because,” the man said, “you’ll be isolating yourself from allies. Everyone knows that Potter can kill Dark Lords, but he can’t make the wizarding world peaceful or reunited. You don’t—you don’t know what you’re getting into. You have no idea.”

            “I think,” Severus said, and he gave the man another small smile, “that you mistake Mr. Potter’s desire to rule. As for me, I desire to rule only your thoughts for these next few moments. Legilimens.”

            The passage into someone else’s mind was always a hectic affair, even when, like Harry a short time ago, they were not actively resisting. This man fought. Severus felt the tearing wisps of barriers, the frantic squirming and doubling back as he tried to conceal thoughts that Severus truly had no interest in isolating, and the screaming panic that lurched out of a cave in his heart and tried to bite.

            The beast fell behind him as Severus dived, and found himself deep in a quiet black ocean never touched by the light of stars. He surfaced and looked about him in some interest. It was a time—a short time, perhaps, but then, he could not count the exact length of the days he had spent buried in his lab—since he had found someone whose inner world come across as water.

            Here and there were islands, stony and green and small and sandy. Severus picked one of the stony ones and reached out, and yes, he caught a glimpse of Harry’s face and the murmur of names before something misty and fragile tried to pluck the memory away. Severus pressed closer, and sent his mind breaking into it as if he had put his head into a Pensieve.

            He found himself looking through the eyes of the man he was reading at a small group of men and women clad in grey. Unspeakables, or those who wished to look like them. One of them laid a small folder on the desk before Severus’s victim and looked at him meaningfully.

            “We cannot have him remain alive for long, Leopold. Yes, he served his purpose. But he seems to think that he can exist outside the Ministry and maintain connections, including Unbreakable Vows, with Death Eaters. That cannot be allowed to continue.”

            “I quite see that, madam,” said Leopold politely, taking the folder. “You wish me to cover the tracks of the failed attempt first? Or find Potter and ask to speak with him in private first?”

            “We think we know where Potter is,” said the woman who had put the folder on the desk. Severus memorized her: the sleek jowls, the sleek black hair that framed them, the blue eyes that had the color of a water sapphire. “Clean up the results of the attempt first, and then send an owl asking to speak with him. Tell him…tell him that you are someone who has charge of the orphans from the war. That will do nicely.”

            Severus heard himself hissing like a kettle, which nearly jerked him out of the memory. He shook his head at himself and resumed his listening. He was here to listen, not awaken himself from the Legilimency trance. It would do no one any good if he missed out on vital information because he was angry.

            But yes, an owl asking about war orphans would have pulled Harry to an isolated spot. Perhaps he would have taken Shield with him, but the Ministry knew about the dragon now, and might have known how to counter him.

            Leopold widened his eyes, but nodded. "And how important is it that no one trace the blame back to us, madam?"

            The woman paused, her hard eyes staring at the far wall above Leopold's head. The man sat still, but Severus could feel his shoulders hunching, his hands closing on the edges of the desk. He was afraid that she would ask for something impossible, something he had no clue how to provide.

            "It is important," the woman said. "You know what the good of the Ministry means to the Ministry, and the future of the wizarding world." She looked back at Leopold, and Severus could feel the tug of other memories, ones that he would investigate in a moment. The man swallowed--Severus could feel the bob of his throat--and slowly inclined his head, until he was staring downwards at his own desk.

            "I understand, madam."

            "See that you do," the woman said, and she and the people with her swept out of the room. That left Leopold to turn the folder over with wondering, shaking hands.

            The other memories beckoned. Severus stepped into them and found out that the woman's name was Henrietta Carson, that she was a full Unspeakable, and that she had given Leopold orders before. She found few people in the Ministry who were sufficiently loyal to its purposes, she had taught him, and therefore she had to rely on the skills of those who were. Leopold was proud and uneasy at being employed on those missions, in equal measure.

            Severus pulled back with a small, hard smile. He recognized Carson's name from the list of possible enemies given to him yesterday. And now that they had Leopold captured and helpless, they could read his other memories at will. Severus would give him a chance to think about the possible advantages of cooperating.

            He opened his eyes, his eyes, and spent a moment touching the edge of Leopold's face. The man stared up at him with what looked like the same emotions he had used when confronting Carson, and shivered. Severus nodded back at him and turned to Harry.

            "He was to be the bait in a trap, luring you out on your own," he said. "To tell you that he was in charge of making arrangements for war orphans, and would like your help."

            It was wonderful to watch the way Harry's lips thinned and he stared at the man on the bed as if he hated making eye contact with him. "I see," Harry murmured, clipped. "And he intended to kill me once he had me there?"

            Severus nodded. "In some way that would make it impossible to trace the ambush back to the Ministry. The instigator in this particular case seems to be an Unspeakable named Henrietta Carson, though what she would have against you specifically..." He broke off, seeing the way that shutters appeared to have dropped behind Harry's eyes. "You recognize the name?"

            Harry bobbed his head, once. "She approached me shortly after the end of the war and asked me to help the Ministry rebuild the wizarding world. I didn't think much about it because I just wanted to rest, and then a few days later I got your--statement of your intentions. I can't believe--I mean, obviously she did decide that she wanted to kill me, but I don't know why refusing one request made me a target."

            "You're a traitor."

            The words came from the man on the bed. Harry glared at him, but it was Severus's slow turn around and equally slow stare that made the man flush and close his eyes, as if he hated the thought that Severus had seen his memories. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, squeezed out by the pressure, and the slowly-deepening red color to his face could have been dangerous. Severus cast a few spells to ensure that he would not expire on them before they could learn all he knew.

            "What am I a traitor to?" Harry asked quietly. "The Ministry, which I've never acknowledged as having a right to rule my actions? A group of Unspeakables who wanted to rebuild, and could have found someone else to ask? The people who all wanted me to stay a hostage with the Ashborn and not come back?"

            Leopold shivered, but answered. Severus was impressed despite himself. Harry's voice had been enough to chill braver man than he suspected Leopold was. "The Ministry. The Ministry t-takes charge of the wizarding world because you can't trust individuals to do it. And they asked you to help, and you refused. What can you be but a traitor and a rebel, someone who thinks you have a greater right to rule the wizarding world than they do?"

            Harry's nostrils flared, his lips clamped shut, and he made a hasty motion with one hand as if he would reach out and strangle Leopold. Severus stayed still, but Shield reared up on Harry's shoulder, his wings rattling, and curved his neck forwards, overhanging the bed like a noose.

            "Right," Harry said softly, and he moved back, reaching up with one shoulder to block Shield's possible advance. Shield's claws rested on his skin, and he crooned at Harry and lowered his head to rest his snout against the skin above Harry's ear. Harry smiled faintly and shook his head, answering the silent question, Severus knew, about whether the dragon could attack. Caressing the silvery neck, he looked at Severus. "You're sure that we can hold him here and prevent him from getting a message out to anyone from the Ministry?"

            "Surround him with a guard of Ashborn, and that will not happen," Severus promised.

            "Good," Harry said, and his eyes were distant and bright. "I find myself disinclined to listen to the Ministry's threats and explanations for much longer. I don't care if they confine themselves to other parts of the wizarding world, because I'm too tired to care. I don't have the emotional depths I used to. I don't have the ability to love random people enough to sacrifice my life for them. Voldemort took it all, and it's gone. Oh, sorry," he added, absently, as Severus flinched from the name before he could stop himself.

            Severus shook his head and started to answer, but Leopold gave a harsh laugh and interrupted before he could. "You say that you don't have the capacity to care about anyone else, but you care that a Death Eater cannot face the name of his master? You are lying, and as selfish as Carson ever said."

            Harry just stared at the man until he squirmed again, and Shield rose up on his hind legs, showing claws and teeth and even the sharp edges of scales that Severus had not realized could become weapons. Then Harry made a clenched fist with one hand, and Shield settled back down, though with a sharp hiss that told Severus how frustrated he was. Well, he could empathize with the dragon. He would have liked a little permission from Harry to attack himself.

            But, properly speaking, Leopold was Harry's enemy, and Severus had no objections to waiting when they might get useful information from the man later. So he stood with his arms folded, and Harry let his breath out and said, "I can't love random people enough anymore, I said. You should listen better. I still care for my friends and family and--and loved ones." He turned to Severus, and his eyes burned like feverish stars, perhaps because that was the first time he had admitted it in front of anyone who wasn't a Weasley.

            Severus could have wished for better circumstances for this to occur in, but Harry had his respect for that, now and always. He waited, and in a moment, Harry said, "What I want to do is convince them to leave me alone. Me and the Weasleys and Hermione and you and Draco. Forever. What would do that?"

            "Nothing," Leopold snapped from the bed. "We know our duty, and if you think that we can be turned aside from it by fear--"

            This time, Harry let Shield leap onto the bed and poise his claws above the man's eyes. Leopold went still, and Harry gave a soft laugh that made Severus want to reach out and caress his arm, to feel the suddenly bunched muscles.

            "Fear's a good tool," Harry said. "You must have hoped to use it to control me at some point, or your masters did. Perhaps they didn't think their failure at the party was such a bad one, because they knew that it might frighten me away from politics. Or whatever the fuck they thought I would do." He shook his head in wonder, and then turned to Severus. "We'll need Draco here for a strategy talk. And maybe the centaurs, if they want to come. And Corners. So it'll need to be later, when both Corners and Draco are rested."

            "Of course," Severus murmured, gladder than he could say that Harry was going to see sense and not insist on treating Leopold and the Ministry with "gentleness," where that would have meant forgiving them and letting them get away with what they had tried to do to him. "In the meantime, I will confine Leopold."

            "You won't win," Leopold snapped as Severus cast a spell that floated him upright and then reached out to Yaxley. This time, the man came to life at once, and Severus found no trace of the strange barrier that had blocked him off from contact at first. He gave a mental shrug. If Corners wanted to do such things, then he might, as long as no permanent change resulted from it. "The Ministry is stronger than you, and we have more resources and allies, and we'll resist you to the bitter end--"

            "Bilinguis," Severus said lazily, and watched a second tongue grow from the base of Leopold's first one. The second tongue curved back into his mouth and acted as a gag, trapping the words he wanted to speak. Leopold's eyes widened and watered once more, and Severus wondered what tales the Ministry had told its employees of the horrors of Ashborn captivity, for him to look like he would die of fear.

            Or perhaps of Harry. I would be wary about going up against someone I thought of as a hero. That was why I tried to take him hostage rather than trigger an all-out war.

            "Was that really necessary?" Harry asked as Yaxley marched Leopold out, but there was a dusty light in his eyes that made Severus nod without regret.

            "I would persuade him of the necessity to speak to us respectfully, if he can," Severus said, moving closer to him. "And especially to you."

            Harry shrugged. "It's not so much the words. It's the attitude."

            "I know that," Severus said, sensing a flinch of regret in Harry that he wanted to suppress. "And it is fair for you to resent that, for you to feel that you need not put up with it, because you risked and sacrificed so much to save them."

            Harry grunted. Shield flew back up to his shoulder and sat there, looping his tail around Harry's neck and crooning in his ear. Harry scratched along the length of his neck and stared at Severus. "I don't understand why they think that they have to kill me if I'm not going to cooperate," he said abruptly. "Ignoring me would have worked just as well. Or making it clear that I wasn't welcome to interfere with whatever their latest political scheme was. They didn't need violence."

            Severus had no answer, either. But he could do one thing, and he did: leaning forwards to press his lips lightly against Harry's.

            Harry blinked at him, and then he shut his eyes and opened his mouth. Severus stroked his tongue across Harry's for a moment, and touched the back of his teeth, once, and the inside of his cheek, once, and then pulled back.

            Harry smiled at him. "Thanks," he said, and then moved past Severus to the door, squeezing his arm once on the way.

            Severus suppressed the silly smile that wanted to break across his face, and followed.

*

            AlterEquis: It isn't someone very important, or else Carson would have disposed of it herself and not left a relatively powerless person like Leopold to do so.

            That's what they're figuring out!

            unneeded: Harry will be watching that list very carefully, believe me.
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