Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 30
- 31
- 32
A/N: I am vastly interested in your thoughts on this chapter. It was so great to finally write this scene, but I'm not satisfied with it. Can't put my finger on why, though.
Reintroduction
Dumbledore stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the boys to arrive. He'd been overwrought and anxious since Remus had left him to search for young Harry. Hearing of their abduction by the Muggle equivalent of Death Eaters had been terrible, and for the very next check-in after their rescue to be missed...
Dumbledore had his first bout of chest pains during Remus's long silence. Once Remus had finally contacted him four months later, it was almost beyond belief that he and the boys had been spirited away by faeries. Clearly Harry was one of those souls who attracted the strange and dangerous.
To be honest, Dumbledore had been anxious about allowing the boys and Remus to stay in America, but he'd also been relieved to have the space to plan. He'd need to be vigilant and crafty if he was going to keep Harry safe, especially from his own karma. He'd need safety nets and back-up plans for any contingency. That being said, he'd want to get familiar with the child before publicly reintroducing Harry to the Wizarding world and beginning the possibly ugly custody battle that would likely start if he didn't have things lined up neatly. It was absolutely out of the question for Harry to return to his Muggle family.
Secrecy was the highest priority right now. Therefore Remus had returned by international portkey through the proper channels at the Ministry. Dumbledore didn't need someone to notice Remus had left for 'tourism' purposes and never officially returned again only to be somehow back in the UK. It was always important to keep Remus out of the Ministry's eye as much as possible to keep his lycanthropy a secret.
So while Remus was making everything official and neat, closing off that loose end, Harry and Draco were traveling via an illegal international portkey created by Dumbledore and finished by President Smackhammer himself. The portkey was targeted to Hogwarts' Great Hall, and Dumbledore had the elves move the tables and benches aside, giving the boys plenty of space in case there was some degree of variance on their landing.
He did not need them landing on furniture and getting hurt. It was crucial that Harry have a positive first impression of the Wizarding world. The poor boy knew too much about America now, and it was possible he'd be tempted to return there permanently, which was why Madam Pomfrey was also waiting with him. She'd be able to help tend to the boys expected pains and illness after such a long portkey trip.
Dumbledore loosed a careful breath, keeping his mind calm as he waited. Ten more seconds. For the past four months, he'd spent the spring contacting people across the country, reestablishing old ties, building his public image, and feeling out his enemies and those in power all in preparation for Harry's return. Five seconds. His chest pains had faded away once he'd had his connections more stable, and he now felt ready to welcome home the Wizarding world's lost child-hero. One second.
There was a pull in the magic of the school that he felt deep in his bones as the two children passed through the wards that he had opened to allow their entrance. They appeared in a blink of invisible power and fell backward as if pushed by a giant's hand, skidding a foot or two before coming to a stop. They'd been pushed in opposite directions: Harry on his stomach, head toward the Great Hall doors, and the blond child on his back, his head pointing toward the Head table and coming to a stop only a foot from Dumbledore's feet.
As if from far away, he could hear Madam Pomfrey tending to Harry, could hear the boys' panting breaths and their nearly inaudible moans as their bodies reacted to the forceful transport halfway across the planet. He'd been prepared to cast cushioning charms on the floor and to wait for them to recover, but his eyes were fastened to the face below him. Even as he watched, it was as if a film were being peeled away from his vision. A blockage in his comprehension was pushed aside. A massive spell was broken.
Eyes wide, Dumbledore stared down at the visage of the stolen Heir. Draco Black... was the lost Draco. Lucius. Malfoy! Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was bonded in a three layer bond to a Malfoy, the lost Malfoy! How was it possible?
His shock shattered as his mind began to race. The Fidelus Charm? Amazing! It had been modified not to hide a place but to hide a name. Such ingenuity of thought! As to who... He believed there was a hint in the name Draco was left with: Black. There weren't many Black's left, but it could have also been an enemy to the Black family. He'd be able to narrow it down if necessary. However, all of these considerations paled before the realization that things had gotten vastly more complicated. How was he going to manage this?
“Headmaster, we need to get them to the Hospital Wing. They are drifting in and out of consciousness. I see no real damage, but I'd feel better with them under my care until they settle.”
Dumbledore nodded vaguely and helped her levitate the children to the infirmary. He was careful to let Madam Pomfrey go before him. He did not want her aware of the blond's identity yet. He needed a few more minutes to grasp the situation before he dealt with her surprise.
And surprised she was! She exclaimed over the boy who'd been stolen as an infant and remarked on how delighted his parents would be.
To stall, Dumbledore suggested sedating the two children, and she immediately agreed. Sleep was best for them really, to recover from portkey travel, and it would also let her do a discrete examination. She felt great urgency to reassure herself that they were physically well after their experiences among the Muggles and their time among the faeries.
Dumbledore stood aside as she worked her magic and ran her tests. He couldn't take his eyes off of the innocent face of the Malfoy Heir. The boy had no connection to his family, no ties to the Dark, but his family had ties to him. Now that the secret was broken, any who saw Draco would recognize him for who he was.
It wouldn't take long for Lucius and Narcissa to become aware of their son, Dumbledore was sure of it, and if it were discovered that he'd had the boy for any length of time before coming forward... The whole of the Wizarding world would tear him apart. Draco had become an icon, a missing prince. He was as famous and beloved as Harry! Mostly because his family would not let the world forget their son.
Regardless of Remus insisting the boys couldn't be separated, Dumbledore had to see this invulnerable bond for himself. Gathering his magic, he allowed his vision to shift. He opened himself to the currents and magic around him. Madam Pomfrey's magic was gentle and relentless, it flowed like an endless sigh, a clear pale green. He moved forward as soon as her work was done and she went off to her desk to analyze her findings. Bracing himself, Dumbledore stepped up to young Draco's bed and placed his hand upon his head.
Magic fierce and passionate snapped closed around him like a metal bear trap with bloody, serrated teeth. The blood was old and new, Draco's as well as Draco's enemies'. Deep green, verging on black, it was supple and flexible, shaped by an analytic and ruthless mind. Dumbledore trembled at the touch of that magic, shocked that it came from such a young child.
He almost took his hand from the boy, horrified, when... There... At the center, peeking through the prowling green power, there was a gorgeous golden light... It was so gentle and pure, so soft. Dumbledore carefully wove his way between the sleeping bands of power and realized it was protecting something. Golden light throbbed in slow pulses, and it was Harry...
The boy's magic was self-sacrificing, loving... It filled Dumbledore's tired soul with comfort and strength. All the fear from before washed out of him, but the longer he looked into that golden power, he realized that calm, gentle surface was just that. The golden light was fragile, nearly insubstantial, and all the more beautiful for it, but deep within the depths lurked something Dumbledore could not name.
Taking his hand from Draco, he moved blindly to the other bed and placed his hand upon Harry. He was awash in the gentle light once more but could see clearly now what else lay beneath the surface. Verdant green wrapped around a howling storm of mindless destruction. White lighting hotter than the sun lashed and cracked through the psychic heart of Harry Potter. There was no direction or intelligence, wild and insane, it hissed and spat, held at bay by the cords of green that held it secure, held it safe, filtering that ferocious madness into the golden waves that had soothed Dumbledore's soul.
By Merlin...
Draco's magic may be dangerous and shaped with a rigid control that honestly terrified him, but anything less would not have been able to contain Harry's wild magic. Draco was all that stood between Harry and mass destruction.
Dumbledore stumbled back from the bed. He was shaking. Sweat dewed his face and he slipped his glasses off to rub at his eyes. “What have we wrought?” he whispered. Two young children had been forged by experiences so monstrous that their magic and minds had twisted into gruesome shapes. And yet...
He stepped close once more and this time laid his hands on the children simultaneously. Green and gold locked together. Green braced and sheltered the gold when it threatened to snap; gold illuminated the green in the places that grew too shadowed and softened the sharp edges. They were eternally spiraling, equally entwined without the common spikes and flares of magical bonds. They combined into a single glorious signature...
The American Asclepius had been correct. These two were fully bonded, and the bond was so deep that to attempt to sever it would damage both children to an enormous extent. Folding his hands behind his back, Dumbledore turned and strode out of the infirmary. Tears glistened on his cheeks. He needed some air and then he would tackle the challenge before him.
…
Draco felt like he'd been in a wreck. Scowling, he pushed himself up. He was on a bed with a pillow and blanket in an empty, unfamiliar room. Harry? There. Beside him on another bed. Green eyes blinked open as he watched. Draco slipped from his sheets – stiffness and cold feet hardly registering – and sank his hand in Harry's messy hair.
- confusion anxiety need -
I'm here, he said into Harry's mind even as he took in their surroundings.
The room was massive with rows of white beds. Huge windows that let in a flood of sunlight stood along one wall. The ceiling was set at a sharp angle high above their heads with massive wooden beams. Grey stone walls and floor. A huge doorway with two heavy, closed wooden doors.
He turned back to Harry, pleased to see the boy had calmed down. He helped Harry sit up and kissed his cheek before asking, “How're you feelin'?”
“Wobbly,” Harry admitted softly. He was looking around through squinted eyes.
Draco noticed a small bedside table. Harry's glasses were on top and their shoes and socks were on the ground underneath it. He handed Harry his glasses, socks, and shoes. He quickly pulled on his own and shoved his feet into his sneakers. Fortunately for Dumbledore they were still dressed in the same clothes they had left Lusio in: jeans and button-ups. Harry's jeans were pale blue and his shirt was white while Draco wore black jeans and a pale grey shirt.
They would have been more comfortable in t-shirts, but Draco had wanted to look presentable when they met Dumbledore. No one had told them they'd end up in a hospital room. He also didn't like that they were alone. He hadn't expected that. He thought Dumbledore would be all over Harry as soon as they arrived. Then again maybe he had been. Who knew how long they'd been here.
Glare growing darker, he took Harry by the hand and led the way toward the doors. If Dumbledore wouldn't come to them, he'd go to Dumbledore. An older woman in a floor length, old-fashioned dress and white apron bustled out of a doorway much smaller than the large wooden ones that held his attention. He hadn't noticed the smaller door because it had been partially concealed by a massive silver cabinet.
She had her arms open as if to hug them as she approached. “Boys! I didn't expect you up so soon! The portkey really did you in,” she exclaimed in a soft, excited voice as she tried to herd them back toward the beds. “You should really rest a moment more. I don't want you to get dizzy and...”
Draco stood his ground, forcing her to stop or run them over. He met her eyes and said as calmly as he was able as anger beat through his veins. “I'd like to see Dumbledore. Now.”
Her mouth fell open a little in surprise and she blinked hard. “W-well... He should be returning any moment...”
Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “Is there a waiting room?”
“The beds...” she tried.
“Are for patients. We feel fine,” he insisted. He wasn't about to let Dumbledore see them as small or defenseless. He was going to make it clear that he and Harry would not be manipulated or “managed”. Draco had a voice, and Dumbledore was going to know it from the start.
“Well!” The woman's face had grown red, her surprise turning into offended anger.
He gave her a cold look and folded his arms. Harry stood at his back – calm trust – flowing down the bond. The standoff was interrupted, however, by Dumbledore's arrival.
The wooden doors opened inwardly, and a tall, thin man in pale purple robes strode forward. He had a wrinkled face, a waist-length white beard and equally long white hair. His blue eyes twinkled above half-moon glasses as he beamed happily at them.
“Draco. Harry. I see you are awake,” he said cheerfully. “Good. Come with me. We have much to talk about.”
Draco gave a stiff little bow toward the red-faced nurse and took Harry's hand. He said nothing as he followed the old wizard from the hospital and into the stone hallway beyond. Draco couldn't help staring around. They really were in a castle. He could feel Harry's – curiosity – and it fueled his own.
Paintings moved and gossiped along the walls as they walked through the quiet corridors. Knights in shinning armor stood straight and proud only to bend and turn as they watched them go by. Catching glimpses of the outside world through windows showed them courtyards and castle towers, green rolling hills and a dense forest. The grounds were massive! The castle looked enormous too from what he could tell. It'd be very easy to get lost. Draco felt reassured by that and nervous at the same time.
Eventually they stopped at another door. This one had black iron bands supporting it with an iron ring as the door handle. Dumbledore pushed it inward easily and held it open for them. Draco warily stepped past into the sitting room beyond. There were fat sofas and soft rugs, coffee tables and bookshelves, and two windows with thick curtains hooked to either side to let the light shine in. There were a lot of reds and browns, among other colors, and it had a lived in, homey feel.
Dumbledore stepped past them and took a seat on one of the sofas. He gestured them closer. “Come in, dear boys. Come in. The teachers like to use this room as a place to rest between classes or as an informal place to meet. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Public mask, Harry, Draco reminded as he released the younger boy's hand. Expression blank, he sat on the sofa that was positioned at an angle to the one Dumbledore had chosen.
Harry sat beside him, hands folded in his lap. Head up, expression calm, direct eye contact with the person Draco was talking too, and not touching Draco was the extent of his “public mask” so far, and he could only maintain it for a little while before he felt too overwhelmed or nervous.
You're doing perfect, Draco praised and his lips twitched as red rose in Harry's cheeks. Then his attention shifted fully to Dumbledore. “Thank you for the portkey.”
“It was my pleasure.” Dumbledore gave them a charming smile, his hair silver in the sunlight. “I'm sorry it was so hard on you. Would you like a drink? Snack?” Before either could respond, he called, “Pippy!”
A soft pop and a house elf appeared. “Yes, Headmaster sir?”
It was small, coming to about Draco's shoulders in height and wickedly thin. Its hands looked like spider legs, and its eyes were huge and blue, taking up half of its face. It had a long nose and wide mouth full of teeth, and it wore some kind of pale sack. Its ears were long and pointed and moved in odd ways. Its head was bald. Remus had told them about house elves, of course, but seeing it was something else.
“Snacks and tea, please, my good elf,” the old man ordered cheerfully. His eyes twinkled at them while they waited a moment and the elf returned. Draco refused to be unsettled and merely observed the old wizard while they waited.
Pippy arrived with a tray stacked tall with finger sandwiches, a pot of tea with three delicate glasses, and three small porcelain plates. They watched in fascination as it bustled about serving everyone. Harry tried to help, but it squeaked in distress so he settled back and simply waited. Eventually they all had a small plate and a cup. Harry sampled both the food and the drink and murmured compliments. The elf's ears waggled before disappearing.
“Amazing creatures,” Dumbledore commented as he sat back with a happy sigh, sipping his tea.
“Yes,” Draco agreed. He didn't bother trying either the sandwich or the tea. He wondered what game the crafty old man was playing. “So... What now?”
Dumbledore lost some of his cheer as he met Draco's eyes. “I'll be honest. I'm not fully sure, my boy. I had planned to give you and Remus rooms and let you run the castle for a few days, give you time to adjust to being in a new country, but things have already changed.”
Draco straightened, attention focused sharply. “Why?”
Dumbledore sighed and put his cup down on the coffee table. “How much has Remus explained?”
“A little,” Draco answered casually, immediately deciding to downplay his knowledge. Maybe Dumbledore would give him new information if he was forced to explain things.
“About Harry?” Dumbledore pressed.
“We know he's called the Boy-Who-Lived here.” Draco took Harry's hand as – anxiety unease – slithered through him. Harry still watched Dumbledore with his chin up, but he was beginning to lean toward Draco's side.
Dumbledore observed them for a moment before speaking quietly. “And about the war? About the two sides?”
“We know there might be people still after Harry because Voldemort lost.”
Leaning back against the sofa, Dumbledore began to stroke his beard thoughtfully. “Yes. Death Eaters. Those who work Dark magic and wish to take the Wizarding world in a different direction. They believe there are some wizards and witches better than others, and that they should have power over these lesser people. They are a very ruthless and dangerous group.”
Harry now had his head on Draco's shoulder and was sitting pressed against his side with not an inch of space between them. This was a little new for him. Draco had been careful with what he let Harry know about the war, and he narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore warningly, although he felt pretty safe that the old man wasn't going to tell them that the war wasn't really over, that Voldemort wouldn't stay gone. The last thing Dumbledore would want to do is scare them back to America. Frightening them wouldn't gain him anything.
So knowing this, Draco was curious with what Dumbledore was driving at. It must be big because he was definitely being more heavy-handed about the threat than Draco had expected he would be. Maybe he wanted them a little on edge and clinging to his robes for protection?
To stop that idea in its tracks, Draco rolled his eyes in disdain and flapped his hand carelessly. “But they were defeated, so we don't have to worry about that. There's still some Death Eaters left, so we have to be careful, but the world's safe, right?”
“Mostly,” Dumbledore agreed, tone and expression becoming grave. “But good people should always be watchful, young Draco. I don't mean to frighten you, but I must bring this to your attention, I'm afraid. There were certain families suspected of helping the Dark and believing in the Dark's values. One of these goes by the name of Malfoy. Have you heard of them?”
Draco shook his head. Of course he was lying. One of the first things Remus taught him were the names of the Dark families, but he was very confused by all this talk of the Dark. He was also thrown by the fact that Dumbledore was mostly talking to him and not Harry. He'd suspected, and Remus had agreed, that Draco would be a distant second thought, everyone focused on Harry once they arrived. He'd been set to make an impression, but the old wizard wasn't meeting any of his expectations and that put Draco at a disadvantage.
“The Malfoy family has a long history. They are very wealthy and hold a position of power in society. I'm sorry to say that the current Lord Malfoy worked directly with the Dark Lord, but due to his influence with those in power, he escaped charges when Voldemort fell.”
“Okay...” Draco drew the word out, making his confusion clear. “What about 'em?”
Dumbledore stared at him intently. “Lord Malfoy lost a son, you see. Right before the Dark Lord's fall. He's been looking for him ever since. Raises the reward for his son's return every year. It now equals enough to let someone live a very wealthy lifestyle for the rest of their life and never work a day again.”
Draco's eyes narrowed. Dumbledore had kept him guessing from the moment they'd met. It was about time to return the favor and show he wasn't some stupid kid. “You either think I'm this missing kid, or you want me ta pretend to be 'em. Which – with magic an' all – seems stupidly dangerous. So you do think I'm this kid. And that means you think... What? I'm gonna go Dark and hurt Harry or something?”
Harry's confusion cleared in flash and he sat up with a smile. “Draco wouldn't ever hurt me.”
Dumbledore bowed his head. “I believe that.” When his face lifted again, it was filled with worry. “I am not so confident about the Malfoy family, however.”
Draco glared hotly at the thought of anyone hurting Harry. He wanted to say he'd stay away from these people, but he knew better. He was seven. That meant he had virtually no rights in society's eyes. At least not until he hit the age society believed made him a human being capable of making decisions. Until then, if Draco really was this guy's kid – and how the hell had that happened?! - the Malfoys would own Draco and through him Harry. The truth was they’d escaped slavery only to still be a type of slave in the eyes of the world as long as they were still under that age.
“Should we go back to America?” he asked levelly.
“No.” Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “Your identity was hidden by a very powerful spell called the Fidelius Charm, and unfortunately that spell is broken. It broke the moment you arrived, allowing me to recognize you. A secret once held by the Fidelius and then revealed cannot be hidden that way again. The reward for your return is very substantial, and the Malfoy's have hired very capable people to find you. Without the spell shielding you, that will happen sooner rather than later, even in America. I'm afraid to delay will only make things more complicated.”
“How certain are ya that the Malfoy's were with the Dark Lord?” Draco asked, eyes unblinking as his mind raced.
Dumbledore's eyebrow lifted in surprise at Draco's intelligent and direct questions. “Absolutely certain. However, it is my understanding that when you were taken, Lucius no longer actively participated in the war.”
Draco frowned. “They placed their child as more important than the war?”
“Yes, but it would be a mistake to think that would render you and Harry safe.” Dumbledore sighed and began stroking his beard again.
“You want to split us up,” Draco said softly, expression gone flat.
Harry gasped beside him – fear denial – spiking hard. He clutched at Draco's hand, but he said nothing.
Draco couldn't imagine leaving Harry's side, but he forced himself to consider it. From what he understood, at eleven, all children were made to come to this school. That was four years from now. Four. Years.
No way. That wasn't going to work. He knew it deep in his bones that he couldn't leave Harry ungrounded that long. Harry needed him in a visceral way to give him a frame of reference. Flashes of Harry's melt down in the woods and the mini-meltdown after the Scourers had tortured them... of Harry's daily request for rules, praise, and punishment... Harry could maybe go a week without Draco, but no way would he survive four years without unraveling.
Dumbledore broke the tense silence. “It would be ideal, but I understand that your bond is such that you cannot be separated without ill effects.”
The old man tried to give Harry a reassuring smile, but Harry was blind to it. He was staring at the side of Draco's face, eyes wide with - fear horror.
Trust me, Draco scolded. It made Harry gasp again and duck his head, a swirl of – shame trust – flaring sickeningly through the bond.
Draco turned so his back was to the arm of the sofa and pulled Harry into his lap. The boy rested his back against Draco's chest and turned his head so his face pressed against Draco's neck, his glasses digging in uncomfortably, which Draco ignored. Casually, he grabbed Harry's wrists, holding them together in Harry's lap. He held tightly enough that Harry's hands began to go slightly numb.
Harry relaxed back into Draco as the sensation of being held - Draco's arms boxing him in, his wrists secured - let him sink into that serene place where he felt empty and at peace.
Draco's voice rumbled against his forehead and back. “So are ya thinkin' ta call them here and negotiate, like, shared custody or somethin'?”
Dumbledore's eyes lit up and he gave Draco a genuine smile. “You are every bit as clever as Remus reported you to be, young Draco. Yes. That is exactly what I plan to do.”
Draco sighed, more to relieve tension than anything else. At least Harry was calm in his arms. He blew his breath out once more, his long bangs swaying, and eyed the old man. Dumbledore hadn't blinked at Harry moving into his lap or at the way Draco held him. Point in the old man's favor. He also seemed to genuinely want to help protect their bond. Another point. Lastly, he wasn't talking down to Draco and seemed to take him seriously. Okay. Maybe Remus was right and they could trust the man. Maybe.
Grmly determined, Draco said, “So we gotta have someone for them to share custody with.” They didn't have time to be picky. Harry needed a guardian as soon as possible.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brighter. “Just so.”
“First choice is Remus,” Draco said instantly. Harry shifted in his arms so that he was looking out at Dumbledore and no longer hiding his face. Draco took that to mean he could let go of the boy's wrists and did so slowly. Instead, he let one arm curl around Harry's stomach, holding him in place, the other hand he lifted to sink into Harry's hair, petting him. “The Ministry doesn't know he's a werewolf, so...”
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “I agree Remus is a good choice, but he will have to go through screenings before he can gain custody of Harry. His condition would be revealed, and the law forbids a werewolf from adopting or reproducing after contracting the disease.”
“Scumbags,” Draco cursed lightly. “And you? Is it legal for you?”
Dumbledore gave a wide smile. “I am flattered. However, I am older than the Ministry would prefer. They would also assume I wanted Harry for political reasons, and so would resist.”
Draco scowled, growing annoyed at the old man's dramatics. “So who do'ya have in mind then?”
Faded blue eyes twinkling, Dumbledore laid out their options. “Harry's parents named a godfather and a godmother in their will. Sadly, both were incapable of taking up their duty as Harry's guardians at the Potters' deaths, so Harry was sent to live with the closest blood relatives. Obviously, they are not a consideration now, and the Malfoys would not allow partial custody to Muggles in any case.
“According to the law, we must look at the next of kin along the godparents' lines. The next legal candidates would be Harry's godfather's eldest first cousin, Andromeda Tonks, and Harry's godmother's husband's mother, Lady Augusta Longbottom. I contacted both earlier in the season intending for you to have interviews during the summer with the two families in order to choose the best fit. As we do not have the time for that, we must choose now based purely on what we know about them.
“There are benefits and risks with either family. The Longbottoms are Pureblood and have some political influence that could potentially balance out the Malfoys. The Malfoys, I am certain, would prefer this choice. However, Lady Longbottom is elderly, and she already has custody of a boy your age. She is also very conservative. I do not know how well she'll understand your bond. Both her son and her daughter-in-law, who is Harry's godmother, suffered horrible wounds during the First War that incapacitated them. This has made her greatly dislike war in general, but the Dark in particular.”
“I personally favor Andromeda. She is Lady Malfoy's elder sister. They have not spoken in decades due to Andromeda marrying a Muggleborn wizard, much to her family's shame, but she is still technically family to you, and this would make her guardianship of Harry even more secure. She is also younger than Lady Longbottom at thirty-four years of age. The risk of choosing Mrs. Tonks is that she is eccentric. Madness runs in her birth family and she is temperamental. She has never forgiven her family for disowning her, so it is likely there will be a lot of turmoil and conflict between Lady Malfoy and herself. She has a daughter, but Nymphadora has just finished her third year here at Hogwarts and is away ten months of the year. Two young boys should not be a problem.”
“What House was the daughter sorted into?” Draco asked curiously.
“Nymphadora is a Hufflepuff,” Dumbledore answered with a gentle smile. “So we can assume Mrs. Tonks is not raising her child in the manner in which she and Lady Malfoy were raised. Both of these ladies were sorted Slytherin, as nearly all of their family was.”
Draco continued to pet Harry. He stared across the room, eyes moving over the stuffed bookcases and the closed door, taking in again that he was in an actual castle. Harry was content and trusting in his arms. Honestly, Draco wasn't too concerned yet. He felt confident he could manipulate any situation. No matter what, he would not tolerate someone hurting Harry. If he had to murder the Malfoys to keep Harry safe, he would. Simple as that.
So the choice was to either follow Dumbledore's lead and choose Mrs. Tonks – Dumbledore clearly wanted the boys to go in that direction – or be rebellious and choose Lady Longbottom. He knew Remus would want him to heed Dumbledore's advice. That didn't matter, either, really. Remus would follow no matter what Draco decided. It boiled down to the pros and cons of letting Dumbledore take the lead.
Breathing in slowly, he then let his breath spill from his lips in a controlled exhale... Longbottom or Tonks... He had only minutes to decide.
Chapter end.
A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks in advance!
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Freedom Bound in Chains