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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author's Note:

Thanks to my wonderful Beta, LILIA0, who took time out of her really busy schedule to do it. I know what late night at work and less than 4 hour sleep can do to one. SO in honor of the Anti-hero 'MY' Draco Malfoy is , I present to you LILIA, a steaming cup of 'Twining's Earl grey green tea', which in my story is Draco's fav! THANK YOU!

From next chapter on wards, please make sure you read author's notes carefully, at the beginning and at the end. Since I would be introducing some original and some borrowed magic concepts, and objects. So in order to understand better, make sure you do not miss the notes. Thanks!:D

PLEASE REVIEW! I NEED ALL THE ENCOURAGEMENT I CAN GET! Pretty please? *puppy-dog-eyes*

Chapter 5 – Eligibility of a Malfoy.

Could you feel it? While I melted?

You could have been my home, but now we live alone.

And we're apart but face to face and you're my happiness. (A thousand light-years at snail speed)

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"Alone and brooding again Ron? Seriously mate! Come off it! You are getting married tomorrow, you need to enjoy the celebrations." He looked down at his best friend who was sitting hunched on a bench on the edge of the make-shift Quidditch field on which they played so often.

"Easy for you to say, you are not taking the leap are you?" mumbled Ron as he buried his head deeper in his arms.

"Okay, so tell me what is really bothering you?" He asked Ron as he settled down on the bench readying for a fierce word match.

"What is bothering me? Have you been in a coma or something? I am getting married to HERMIONE! I have everything in the world to be worried about." Ron snapped.

"No Ron... because you are marrying Hermione, you have nothing to be worried about. She takes care of everything; she is bright, loyal, faithful, and stupid enough to be stubbornly and irrevocably in love with you." He made sure his voice was serious and yet light-hearted enough to make sure that Ron did not lash out.

"That is exactly what worries me Harry, don't you see? I am not good enough for her! I never was... I never will be. I try! I try all the time, but she is just so much better. She knows just when to push me, and when to pull me back, she understands everything I say and even what I don't say. She is so perfect?! And what am I? I certainly don't have the intellectual capacity to engage her or temperament to placate her when and if she goes berserk on me… What if she finds me boring? What if she finds me lacking? Too stupid? Too thick? What if she decides that she does not want me after a few years? Or worse! What if she endures me because I am not good enough and she is married to me and too honorable to walk away from me?"

Tears shined in Ron's blue eyes and Harry curled an arm around his best friend shoulder in a comforting gesture which was welcomed whole-heartily.

"You know, all of your fears are well-placed, but those fears and holes are there between most compatible couples as well. What marriage is about, is working out those fears and filling out those holes. To keep together through all tough times just because to live without that person is an impossibility bigger than you overcoming all your fears and becoming perfect. Don't you see mate? What you just said? That the worse scenario would be her enduring you out of obligation? That it would hurt you if she was hurting that way? Do you think anyone else can love her as much as you do? Because I can't!"

Something changed in Ron's eyes at that statement, an acceptance, an understanding. Harry felt bliss and awe at the same time, seeing how much his best friend loved his other best friend. Suddenly Harry snickered remembering Ron's words.

"Intellectual capacity to engage? Temperament to placate? Since when did you start talking like that?" He asked Ron smirking who blushed some more and chuckled himself as he look up at Harry.

"I am not absolutely useless you know. I have been reading up stuff too, you know, increase my vocabulary so that I can at least understand half of the things she is saying when she goes off on a … 'tangent'. But…"

"And this is the reason why I would choose you a million out of million times Ronald Weasley." Said Hermione as she appeared out of thin air just behind the bench. Harry smiled at the invisible cloak in her hand. Tears fell steadily down her face as she beamed down at Ron who blushed even more than Harry had ever seen.

"No one ever even tries to understand when I go off on a tangent, everyone thinks I am this impossible know-it-all who is too fast for anyone to keep track with, but you, my love, are the one who tries to grab hold, who puts up with my silliness and imperfections and still think I perfect. That means the world to me!" Hermione said as Ron reached up to hold her as she reached down to hold him at the same time, and Harry jumped off the bench turning quickly towards the house, grinning ear to ear as he backed away from the couple already draped around each other.

"Ah! I guess I should find shelter Ron, it's about to rain kisses and snogs which I think are only meant for you." He said walking swiftly only to hear snickers and then wet kisses behind him which filled his heart with an aching warmth of happiness and craving to have someone of his own to hold like that.

It feels like the Sixth year all over again.

The Wizarding Britain is in an uproar since his return and all I feel is foreboding.

Since I am no longer required to search the Manor which was what hogged my requested off-time from work previously, I was informed that I could take my leave as I had originally planned. I can't help but feel paranoid about it. Am I being forced to keep away from ministry for some reason? If I am, it's only a matter of time that I will return, and then I can of course make my way, like I always do. I know that is what precisely scares Kingsley about me. I always find my way in and I always find my way out.

To distract myself on my off day, I am working on my house, but thoughts keep on wandering off and they have all the reason in world to do so.

I am working on preserving a panel length tapestry in the third floor Ball room that shows a scene of a dancing gypsy. It has taken me a month every year divided in half and half for past four years to make it to the Third floor rooms. During the days when my home served as head-quarters for the Order of Phoenix only the ground, first and second floor were in use and even in those floors only selected rooms were used.

There was a time I laughed at the existence of this room. I could not fathom the possible reason for having two Ballrooms in a house. This ballroom covers half of the Third floor which has only two other rooms which were once private entertaining salons, gents and Ladies, with a small solarium towards the front wall. Which did not show from the outside at all. I only discovered the solarium accidentally since the wall was charmed to not show any light through the Glass panels. Why someone would deny beautiful sunlight to this old and dark home, I don't know. Then again, Blacks never were the sharpest tools in the shed but they were the stiffest ones. It took me more than a week to clean and refurbish the Solarium and it now has a beautiful array of flowering plants, which Neville helped me with the summer last year when he came to stay for a month from Hogwarts where he is the stationed Herbology professor.

The ball room is a different story all together.

The reason it took me so long to discover it in the first place was that the door was sealed with a padlock that no one could find the key to. Even Kreacher was unable to tell me where the mistress had put the keys to all the rooms on the Third floor. After almost giving up the search I stumbled across them in the Black Vault at Gringotts. Despite my initial fit of mirth at the pretentiousness of the bygone, I could not help but notice the grandeur the ballroom must've held once. Magically expanded, it is more faded than worn out, unlike the dance Hall downstairs which is smaller and more worn out with use. The walls are lined with beautiful beige marble with gold veins and gold plated skirting, tapestries and gilded mirrors covering the walls, but the most beautiful and breath-taking feature of the extravagant ballroom is the roof. Painted artistically in ever changing floral patterns, which I figured later moved in accordance to the music being played in the room and not to forget the most intricate crystal and gold-plated chandeliers I have seen in my life which I have commissioned Winky with cleaning during her free time. I notice this morning that she has already cleaned four out of twelve of them to perfection.

I delicately work with my wand on the frayed threads in the corner of one of the biggest tapestries in the room and smile again at the Romani Gypsy dancer who keeps on dancing provocatively just to distract me. I admit dressed in a sheer silk garb in a non-descriptive shade of pink which must have been red once upon a time, she has the most voluptuous curves I have seen on a woman and she is just as shameless about them, but that is not what keeps drawing my attention towards her. It's what seems like the unusual grey her eyes currently are that keep catching my attention on the faded woven silk canvas. They shouldn't though. Her skin is a faded gold instead of ivory white and her hair is a shy black, tied with a light pink ribbon instead of silver blond. I know once the tapestry is preserved back to its original colors, her eyes would probably be Azure, her faded golden skin will be a beautiful bronze golden and her shy black hair would be a stream of shiny black voluminous curls tied with a red ribbon.

I promise her that she will be rejuvenated to her full capacity soon enough and she seems happy about it and dances some more making the men surrounding her in the scene throw more gold coins at her feet. I roll my eyes at the cat calls, to which she says something in a strange language which I know after careful research through Black family archives, is some form or lost dialect of Turkish, since the setting for the Tapestry is an old bazaar in Anatolia, which was the only thing mentioned in the archives. The tapestry, a commissioned piece is called "The gypsy on the streets of Anatolia." So creative! I snorted when I found out.

Preserving and fixing things has become a sort of a passionate Hobby of mine over the years since the war. My friends suggest that it is to fulfill my sub-conscious need to fix the unfix-able things in my life, like my childhood at the Dursleys, my teenage years fighting with Voldemort, losing Sirius, losing Dumbledore, losing Remus and Tonks and last but not least, losing Severus Snape. I know my friends might be true in this instance, but no one ever should expect me to be perfect. I am not, never was, never will be. So I make the best of the deal I got in the end. I repair frayed ends, peeling walls and gnawed furniture, thinking that someday Teddy would find this place worthy enough to raise a family in. Perhaps he will have a beautiful girl or girls someday who will get their first dancing lessons in these rooms, or perhaps a coming of age ball? I smile at the idea and feel peace, its fleeting, but it's there. This morning though it is not to be had. I am restless and frustrated and even Dancing Esmeralda feels it.

I know I should not have accosted Malfoy outside his own home. I know I should not have vocalized my suspicions in such clear words. But I have never been one for subtlety when it comes to Draco Malfoy and I think it also goes the other way around. I just remember the frustration at his boldness and so I did what I did, instinctually, and now there is nothing for it.

It's been hardly a week and he has managed to bribe/convince Kingsley that there is nothing fishy about his sudden disappearance seven years ago, or his reappearance for that matter. I am sure a lot of sweet talk and a hefty amount of Galleons can help one accomplish anything and that is not even the worse part.

It is not as if I did not expect him to buy an easy way out with Kingsley. He is a Malfoy, bribery is the kind of thing they are best at. I am surprised that Kingsley has put aside his loss so gamely. Do I smell political support that comes with the Malfoy name backing Kingsley for re-election? Yes I do, and even that is not the worse part.

It's true that I did not expect the media reaction the way it is turning out. It's as if the ferret-face is the finest thing that ever happened to the Wizarding Britain, and no, that is not the worse part either.

No, the worse part about this situation is the support that the ferret-face has gained in my friends and last night during our weekly Weasley communion, I found out just how serious the whole matter is.

"So what really happened was… that after we rescued him from the fiend-fyre in the room of requirement, he slithered out somehow to go look for his mother during the first wave of the attack. He took cover of the edge of the forest on school ground but was suddenly in the clutches of Greyback. Now, do you remember Harry, how we read in the reports of the search conducted for Malfoy in the first year during Auror training that had interviews of surviving death-eaters who mentioned how Greyback was constantly trying to chew on Malfoy?"

I raised a skeptical brow at Ron. Checking for a certain flush on his cheeks that he always got when he drank a little too much. He was sober, which was even more disturbing. No blush, he was standing by the roaring fire place in what I call the Blue Parlor since I renovated Grimmauld place. It used to be a Dance room, but anticipating the sheer amount of Weasleys and friends I knew I would be entertaining I had turned it into an extended sitting room. Painted it my favorite shade of blue and furnished it with as many seating receptacles as possible.

I remember the first year of Auror training crystal clear. I remember burning the midnight oil, reading up old cases and how they were solved. I remember Hermione reading all our Auror stuff alongside her unspeakable stuff, and I remember Ron's furious growling every time he saw Draco Malfoy's folder in my hand. It got to such a point once that he accused me of being obsessed with Malfoy just like Sixth year, and I had in turn drove the point home about how right I was being suspicious of Malfoy back in the days, which in turn had him spewing things he wanted to say and had kept a lid on regarding my testimony and support of the Malfoys during death eater trials. The argument had blown so out of proportion that it took weeks for me and Ron to bury the hatchet.

Now for this man to stand there, and say what curiously sounded like an emphatic recounting of Malfoy's sad tale of disappearance, complete with supporting evidence (Such as the fucking Auror case file of the Draco Malfoy's disappearance that suffered bodily abuse at Ronald Weasley's hand) and encouraging counter arguments to any objections that may arise. Not that I was about to raise any objections other than the most obvious one, that ferret-face Malfoy was a LIAR.

"Yeah, so, Greyback snatched him out of nowhere and he was beaten unconscious, only to wake up between some kind of Dark magic ritual, spread out on the stone pyre like a sacrificial offering to Merlin knows who…only to get bitten and beaten near to death again by Greyback, but as the ritual started to work, the dark-mark started to heat up, before burning up completely disturbing the ritual, something to do with clashing magical forces. The pressure killed Greyback, which was the last thing Malfoy claims he saw before blacking out only to wake up in some Muggle Hospital in Berlin, battered to an inch of his life, naked and blank as a slate."

The astonishment and pity of Ron face was quite genuine, I noticed.

"He had learnt German since he was four years old so it was not hard for him to communicate with the people who found him, it took a few months before things started to come back to him. Says it took him almost a year to realize he was a wizard. When he levitated a newspaper before it could land in a puddle of water while distributing it. Imagine that, not realizing magic for a whole year."

"Imagine Malfoy delivering newspapers." I snickered at the absurdity of the idea, only to look around and notice Hermione, Ginny and Angelina looking at me disapprovingly. What the hell was I missing? I wondered if I was in some sort of alternative reality, where Draco Malfoy was a good friend, Non-prejudiced, reliable, believable, brave and relentlessly noble Gryffindor, who had had to suffer so unfairly. Gah! Because in the reality I originally came from, Draco Malfoy was a rich, spoiled, cowardly, prejudiced, racist, selfish, cruel, whining, snobbish, disdainful, wasteful, foul playing, unpleasant, evil, Slytherin Git.

A few possibilities come to mind. Potion? Imperius? But the weirdness was on such a large scale that it ruled out both the possibilities.

"And Kingsley believed his story and all?" I asked hiding my skepticism behind my tea cup as I was suddenly not sure how many people in the room were seeing this whole situation from the angle I was seeing it from.

"Of course, he agreed to give the details of his absence under Veritaserum."

"Yea, and you believe that he actually did not find a way of worming out of not taking Veritaserum? Bribery? Blackmail?" I wanted to bite my tongue but the idea of Ron so vehemently defending Malfoy was making me panic in a way I hadn't in a while. I mean, it's RON and we were talking about MALFOY.

"Yes Harry, he did not bribe, blackmail or worm his way out of a statement under Veritaserum , and I am so sure about it because I was the one who administered it in the first place."

That made me shut my mouth for the rest of the evening as the foreboding grew exponentially.

I sigh at the remembrance of yesterday and get back to work.

A pop alerts me of Kreacher's presence.

"Master Harry, Miss Luna is here to see you."

A knot is undone in my mind all of a sudden and I curse myself in relief

Of course, the one person who I can really talk about my suspicions regarding Malfoy is Luna.

Over the years though her weirdness factor has not weathered at all, I have come to realize that there is no one more unbiased, unprejudiced or least self conscious than Luna Lovegood. Even Hermione is sometimes too self-absorbed and opinionated about things. Luna Lovegood is the perfect blend of cool, detached calculation and amazingly accommodating compassion. At times when everything else stops making sense, Luna is the only one who can lead you back to sensibility and when everything is too sensible and serious, Luna is the only one who can inject it with something absolutely nonsensical.

"Brilliant!" I exclaim excitedly and look down at my work clothes and decide that a quick shower is in order.

"Make her that special tea she loves so much and tell her I'll be there in ten minutes." Kreacher nods and pops away, while I swiftly bound downstairs to my bedroom on the second floor for a shower and change.

I step down into the living room precisely ten minutes later to hear Luna chatting away with Winky and Kreacher both about something called "Giggliotores". The confounded expression on Winky and Kreacher's faces is enough to make me want to laugh.

"Oh hello Harry!" she says warmly as she looks at me standing up from the couch and I freeze in place it's as if I am noticing it for the first time how silvery grey Luna's eyes are. What in the world is wrong with me? I watch her eyes coming closer to me as her blonde fringe glows. I can only close my eyes, but another pair of silvery grey eyes and pale silver blond hair flashes behind my closed eye lids. Only in place of Luna's soft features and heart shaped face, it is hard aristocratic lines and chiseled face of Draco Malfoy.

" – for it Harry." I hear her say before she lays a peck on my cheek as is our mandatory greeting, which says we are friends, but have been more intimate than friends once upon a time and that we are fully comfortable with our physical boundaries. I know and recognize these signs because of the relationship advice and dating advice books Hermione kept on buying me for years and only, finally, gave up on last year. Thank God for that!

"You are positively distracted my dear friend! Don't make me bring out my spectrespecs…" she smiles in her mysterious way which always means she is seeing more than I am showing.

"I'm sorry." I cover my lapse immediately. "It's just that this color you are wearing is so distracting." Which it is, as she is wearing a summer dress in butter yellow. I know the color precisely because I recently bought the curtains for the ladies Salon on the third floor in the same color in combination with off-white, and now the room is so sickeningly girly that I can't stand it for more than fifteen minutes and after every forced extended visit, I come running down to my Blue parlor which has all the upholstery in a manly Beige, because I realized that I had way too many women around me at all times who were suggesting all these girly colors to go with the blue. I put my foot down and just to add to the effect, my antique broom collection is also situated in the same place in a wonderful glass show case I made myself.

"I see... It's new." Luna says blinking at me and I straight away understand.

"It's gorgeous, goes so well with your eyes and your hair." I say taking her soft and warm hand in mine and smiling genuinely at her.

There is no doubt, that in all my friends and acquaintances, Luna has grown to be the prettiest (though she does not have a clue about it) and also most accomplished, second only to Hermione in accomplishments. She runs Quibbler single-handedly which is the second most read magazine in Wizarding Britain. She is a voluntary ambassador and field liaison for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Specializing in Centaur politics. Not to forget that she is my official publicist and chairman of My Fan-club even though she is not a fan-girl at all, which is what I like best about that particular situation. We established the club on her suggestion in the first place when she said that "Controlling a Chaotic crowd is ten times more difficult than commanding an army." The solution was simple and so easy that within a year of being established, the load of extreme public fawning was off my shoulders and for the first time I was able to see the funny side of it all.

"I suppose… so, I thought I would be here with you when you unveil this week's Witch's weekly, instead of over the floo which is our regular ritual."

I arch an eye brow at her to which she smiles dreamily and turns to her hand bag and fishes out the Magazine we usually enjoy mocking so much.

She hands over the crisp copy to me her eyes sparkling mysteriously I look away from her to look down at the magazine in her hand. I am stunned.

It is picture of me in a Muggle white Tuxedo jacket, which I remember I wore to Last Ministry's Christmas gala, sitting on the hand rest of a sofa, a champagne glass hanging precariously in my lose fingers while I swirl the liquid inside carelessly, looking away at something very intensely. I remember this picture clearly because it was taken without my knowledge by Dennis, and according to witches all around the world one of the Hottest pictures of me ever taken. They call it decadent. In reality, I look absolutely miserable, which I was, hating every minute of having to be at that Gala.

Only this time the picture has been edited and there sits Malfoy right next to me on the same Sofa, his silver blond Hair lose, reclined, an ankle crossed on top of a knee carelessly but gracefully, looking away at something, only he looks deep in thought, dressed in black formal robes, long fingers stroking the Dragon head on the cane which he keeps twirling expertly and absently. The headline under it screams in a tearing white.

'Will Sexy Lord Malfoy finally steal number one spot of Britain's hottest most eligible wizard from the Gorgeous Lord Potter-Black? Witches SQUEE!'

I look up at Luna, her eyes are dancing with mirth. I frown at her, at which she chuckles at me and gesticulates at me to open the cursed thing.

Me and Malfoy are such Hot news for some reason that we have made the centre spread. In glossy anti wrinkle paper and ever-lasting Ink. Because of which the Magazine costs two sickles extra than its usual cost. Such Hot-shit we are:

- Is famous and casually sexy Gryffindor Lord Potter-Black finally going to lose top spot as Britain's hottest most Eligible Wizard to Mysterious and formally sexy Slytherin Lord Malfoy? Who has never looked more dreamy?

- Is Lord Malfoy about to contest the title of Lord Black? Magic Genealogical experts speak.

- Special never before heard of accounts of the famous Potter-Malfoy rivalry at Hogwarts.

- Speculations about Lord Malfoy's mysterious disappearance.

- Harry Potter's crusade to save the Malfoy Name at the death-eater trials.

- All that and much more in this Week's Special Edition of Witch's Weekly.

*Don't forget to Owl in your vote for the WITCH'S WEEKLY POLL OF THE MONTH:

A. Do you want to kiss Harry Potter?

B. Do you want to kiss Draco Malfoy?

And,

C. Do you want them to kiss each other?

I think my eye brows will never come back to their original location by the time I am done reading the highlights to the upcoming Special Edition of Witch's Weekly.

"I don't think Draco is going to contest the title of Lord black. Even if he is more eligible, blood wise to claim it so, but yes it would be wise to be prepared. She after all has even a bigger claim on the title than even Draco."

I have no idea who she is talking about or what she is talking about as the last option of the poll is burned into my retinas. Kiss Malfoy? Why in the world would people even suggest such a thing? I am strictly straight in the eyes of the world, though I admit I have an isolated experience with a male lover as well, but that is something that is strictly private knowledge, something only my closest friends know about. Even if it was just as lukewarm an encounter as with many of my female lovers.

"Uh?" I say inarticulately, but I am not half as embarrassed about it as I would be if it was anyone else sitting in front me.

She looks at me curiously, her head tilted to the side before she taps on the page of the magazine that is still spread open on my knees.

' Is Lord Malfoy about to contest the title of Lord Black? Magic Genealogical experts speak.'

To say I am ashamed would be an understatement. There is a genuine threat or possibility of a threat in those lines I just read and all I focused on was why someone would suggest I should kiss Malfoy. I want to slap the back of my head myself.

"You mean, I should involve Andromeda?" I ask Luna hesitantly.

"Well, I would suggest that you talk to Draco about it directly and find if there is any basis to such a claim, it is always good to show people what you expect and don't expect of them upfront rather than weaving circles around it unnecessarily, that's how I deal with the Centaurs. But then again…" She pauses and then tilts her head to the other side looking somewhere at my forehead.

"…With that much amount of Nargles around your head, I don't think it's wise, because you might not be able to keep your temper in check. I will owl you some Hippogriff dung and garlic incense to deal with them." I shudder invisibly at the thought.

"Sure…" I say reluctantly and she just smiles in her absent way.

"So I guess you want to talk to me about Draco… Other than this?" she takes the magazine from my hand and puts it away, before settling back in the couch and looking at me intently. I don't know how or why, that look makes me banish the filter between my mind and my mouth.

"I do Luna, I think I am going insane. I feel like I am the only one that is suspicious of his return. Am I the only one who still remembers the kind of person Draco Malfoy has been since he was a child? Am I the only one who can see that the fact that he has obviously bribed Kingsley that he is not much different from his father or his grandfather or his great grandfather? He disappears, and we find his blood and pieces of his clothes strewn everywhere, he wanders the world doing Merlin knows what for seven years and then just conveniently returns at his Mother's death. Tells a hap-hazard story, gains sympathy, support, and fervor from all around him, just because of a very lose and extremely limited interrogation under Veritaserum? And no one even suggests that Draco Malfoy might have thrown off Veritaserum? Or to cross-check his claims?..."

"Only an extremely powerful wizard or an extraordinary potions master can throw off Veritaserum or make an antidote Harry."

"Oh! I'll tell you Luna, He is extremely powerful, in a way he never was before, you should have seen the protection ward he erected around the Malfoy Manor the night before the Wake, I have never seen the likes of it in all my experience and as for Potions master, Malfoy was heir, apprentice and God son to one of the greatest Potions Masters ever known to the Wizarding world, Severus Snape. So the antidote to Veritaserum should be a piece of cake for the likes of him."

"So correct me if I am wrong… You have already confronted him, threatened him, and told him of your suspicion of him?"

I have no idea how she figured that out from all that I just said. I wonder if it was just a lucky guess or if she really knows me that much. I figure there is no use denying it anyways.

"I admit that it was not the smartest thing to do, but Luna, there is just something about him that is rubbing me the wrong way, and the way everyone is so easy about it? What makes everyone believe and trust his story so implicitly? Is it Political influence? A plethora of Good deeds on his credit from years past? Money? Magic?..." She interrupts me with a single word.

"You..." She says nodding calmly.

"Me?" I ask incredulously, I know she is trying to make a point, but I don't see it. What do I have to do with any of it.

"Yes you Harry… You are a partial reason if not all of it for the way Draco is being accepted in the wizarding world." I just gape at her.

"I think in more than one instance you were the one to keep Malfoy name out of the ashes, but you had done that for Narcissa Malfoy, out of gratitude and guilt. Guilt mostly because she lost her son when you had assured her that he was still safe even if it now turns out that you had no reason to advocate Malfoy respect so vehemently since said son was alive and safe, but that was not the only reason for your relentless support was it?" I open my mouth to answer but she continues with that dreamy yet sharp look in her eyes.

"It had to do with filling gaps in the new world order after the war, to make both pure-bloods and muggleborns equal part of the society, it was because Narcissa Malfoy had saved your life even when she had gotten assurance of her son's life from you, it was because of the honor in keeping her word, it was because Draco had once saved your life at the Malfoy Manor, it was because he refused to kill Dumbledore under the pain of his own death and his family's."

"… If anything your own defense of him during the death-eater trials has something to do with this benefit of positive judgment Draco is getting from everyone, you seem to have forgotten this Harry, but you were the one who got his name on Martyr's memorial."

By the time she stops speaking, my mind is abuzz again. Too many thoughts are churning, but I know I won't be able to reach the very obvious conclusion any time soon with the bombardment I had just been subjected to. Luna, bless her soul, understands this somehow and brings everything into perspective.

"So, this is the way I see it Harry. It's either that you had lied back then after the war about all the things that Draco did for which you forgave him and then defended him. That your claim that he was forced to do all the things he had to do, was false, and only to relieve your conscience of the debt you felt you owed Narcissa Malfoy."

"Absolutely Not!" I almost yell at the outrageous accusation. "None of the things I did or said in defense of Malfoy were fabrications Luna, they were true, even if the basis of it was to compensate for her loss. I would not take anything back…"

"WHICH… brings me to the other way I see it, that you are being childish and hateful about it unnecessarily now, as you go on to ignore all the things that you yourself said in defense of Draco Malfoy to the rest of the world and are sticking to the old prejudices you had against him, just as he had against you back in the days when you were boy wonder, and he the Ice-prince. You who made everyone else give Draco benefit of the doubt are a hypocrite and do not want to do the same yourself. Which I know you aren't. So Harry, really? Is the stubbornness worth this fuss?" She is now holding my hand and looking at me earnestly, and I realize I do not have an answer to her question because for a long time in my life I have neither been stubborn about something nor have I made a fuss.

Three hours later, just after having lunch with Luna at home I stand outside the apparition point just off field from where the Laurel cottage is situated. After the war Andromeda had moved to the summer cottage that she and Ted owned just on the outskirts of the Small but famous Wizarding village called Helga's Bode. Rumored to be the birthplace of Helga Hufflepuff.

I have decided that it is best to speak with Andromeda about the chance of Malfoy trying to contest me for the Black title and fortune. I know that the law would favor me most probably, since I was nominated legally with reputed witnesses by Sirius as heir to the estate, I still would want to know where Andromeda stands, now that her nephew has returned from the dead and from what I saw at the wake I think Andromeda has full intention to be reconciled with him. I know it is sort of insecure of me to think these things, but am really one to know the power of blood relations? I only know that they are important enough that Dumbledore left me with mine as an infant, knowing full well how badly I would be and was treated by them. After lifetime estrangement from her flesh and blood Andromeda does deserve a lot of what she didn't get so I will not ask her to chose my side, or any side if she so wishes. My only concern is Teddy's future, for which I will fight tooth and nail until we come to a settlement in all cases if push comes to shove.

I step through the rickety fence gate painted white already. The cottage looks beautiful in the looming afternoon sun. The garden is well tended as always and the tire swing I put up for Teddy two weeks ago is still holding up nicely. I step on to the stone patio and swing open the fly net door only to have the Oak door inside swing open by itself by Teddy, who looks extremely excited.

"HARRY!" he shouts as surprise and elation fills his chubby face, before he launches himself and clings to my waist with a vice grip way too strong for a seven year old and buries his face in my side, I know he is sniffing me, he does that sometimes when he's been missing me, I feel guilty for it. I only get a chance to ruffle his reddish brown hair before I look up expecting to see Andromeda only to come face to face with...

"Malfoy."

Bloody Malfoy!

An: I know the ending of this chapter might seem a bit abrupt, but when i post the next one you will know why.

Meanwhile, Encourage me to post faster by Reviewing! PLEASE!
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The Principle of Sympathy