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The Only True Lords	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 54573 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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Chapter Fifty-One—Gregory Goyle
            “This is the moment that we cannot refuse.”
            Harry started straight ahead, wondering if it comforted Snape to hear his own voice when he talked like that. Of course Harry knew that they couldn’t just waltz past this trial and have everything be fine. They had to actually go through it, and Greg hadn’t committed a bunch of wrong actions because he was secretly on their side. Harry would have to do what he could to save him without the character witnesses or the knowledge he’d had for Snape.
            “You might at least acknowledge me,” Snape hissed, at the same moment as the bond twinged so hard that Harry’s left hand flew to his right arm in self-defense. Apparently that was what the bond did when a vassal felt like their Lord was ignoring him.
            “I know that we have to get through it,” Harry said, and tried to make it sound nice and normal and pleasant. For the moment, the trial hadn’t begun, but he and Snape were both in witness seats not far from some hostile members of the Wizengamot, and Harry didn’t think it would do Greg any good if their enemies heard them arguing. “What else do you want me to say? I don’t think it’ll be easy, but I’ll still fight. For Greg.”
            Snape was silent long enough that Harry thought the acknowledgment was all he’d wanted and started to turn around again, but Snape reached out, shaking his head, and put a hand on his shoulder. “There have been incidents in the past when a Lord let a vassal of his go to prison, rather than put the others in danger,” he murmured.
            Harry listened, waited, and when it became clear that Snape had nothing more to say, Harry replied, “How nice for them.”
            The pressure of Snape’s hand grew heavier. “You have to realize that is what it may come to.”
            “You and Pansy have had your trials,” Harry said. “They can’t just reverse their decisions and put you in Azkaban even if they decide to put Greg there.”
            “If you fight too hard against the outcome of his trial, it might influence Draco’s.”
            Harry turned fully back around to stare at Snape again. “I should bloody well hope so,” he said, and saw some people looking around at them. Well, he didn’t care. He was going to express himself as loudly and as proudly as he could. “I should bloody well hope that it shows them I’m going to struggle like mad against any of my vassals going to prison, even if they are Death Eaters.”
            Snape’s fingers pressed down hard enough that Harry wondered why he’d bothered keeping knives around; it was clear he was capable of dicing leaves and tubers with his nails if he wanted. “I am saying,” Snape said, measuring his words with exquisite precision, the way Hermione did sometimes when she was angry, “that you might not be able to keep Draco out of prison if you protest too much about them sending Mr. Goyle there. They want to send a Death Eater there. They will not be satisfied without sending at least one.”
            “They can send Lucius Malfoy,” Harry pointed out. “And all the other Death Eaters that they’re presumably going to try once they’re done with us.” He admittedly hadn’t heard a lot about preparations for those trials, but then, he’d been cooped up in Grimmauld Place for days with other things to concentrate on.
            “Idiot child,” Snape said, and his voice became a vicious hiss. Harry entertained himself with visions of Snape speaking to Nagini at Death Eater meetings. “Do you want Draco free or not?”
            “I want them both free,” Harry began, wondering how Snape could have missed that. Then he paused. Something Snape had been hinting around about finally clicked into place in his head, with a noise like tumblers in a lock snapping. “Wait. Were you assuming that I would let Greg go to prison to save Draco? That I would fight harder to save Draco, for some reason?”
            “Of course,” said Snape slowly. “Because—”
            “Yes,” Harry said, turning around with his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes narrowed. “Enlighten me as to the because.”
            Snape stared at him steadily. Harry stared back. Maybe Snape would have intimidated him with a glare like that when he was still Potions master, but he wasn’t anymore, and Harry hated and resented what Snape seemed to be implying, so he was going to make Snape state it outright instead of hiding behind all his little hints.
            “Draco is the smarter one,” Snape said at last. “The one who has more of a future ahead of him, a future that might include standing independent of the bond, one day. The one whose family name is still strong enough to guarantee him some protection, and will be even if his father goes to prison. The Malfoys are rich. The Goyles are known as their lackeys. I thought you would fight harder to free a young man who is more deserving.”
            Harry laughed. He kept it low, because he knew the disaster it would be if he did it too loudly, but it was still enough to draw the attention of Changes, who slightly shook her head at him. Harry nodded, and didn’t sneer, because he still had that much control, then turned his back on her so he could face Snape.
            Or maybe he ought to call him Severus, because he was grimacing and putting one hand on his right arm. He’d felt Harry’s anger, then. Good.
            “You have a strange notion of who’s more deserving,” Harry whispered. “What does intelligence or a family name have to do with whether someone deserves to be free of Azkaban? I’m going to try to convince them that Greg has to remain with me, and I’ll do the same with Draco. It has nothing to do with…” He couldn’t even find a name for the qualities that Snape seemed to feel were important. “What is it? Do you just like Draco better as a person, or something? I know you tried to help him during the war, but I had the impression that you tried to help Greg, too. What is it?”
            Snape only watched him with a pinched brow and pale face. He seemed not to have foreseen that Harry would have any objections to his plan at all, Harry decided. That must be why neither of them was understanding the other at the moment, even though Snape was the smarter one and ought to have understood him.
            But then again, if Severus Snape was really as brilliant as he was supposed to be, he would never have suggested something like this in the first place.
            “You’re angry with me,” Snape murmured. “I ought to have anticipated that. But you can’t save everyone.”
            Harry stayed still. He could see the Wizengamot members shifting around, and for a moment he wondered if the trial was about to start and spare him this conversation. But no, they were just moving so that someone could get to their seat. And still all the seats weren’t full, so they were probably waiting for more of them.
            And in the meantime, Harry had to find the words to speak, the way he could understand.
            “I can try,” he said. “I can bloody well try when the bond will probably punish me if I don’t, even with the way that I can command it now.” He paused, thinking again of the words Snape had said, and once more it was a struggle to keep his voice down. “You said that I should fight harder for Draco because he might have a chance of standing independent of the bond someday. Is that what this is about? You like Draco’s chances better because he’s more like you and you think that no one should be in the bond at all?”
            Snape’s hands closed down on the chair. Fucking right, Harry thought, his heart beating wildly. That’s it. That’s really the only reason.
            “You cannot deny that Mr. Goyle’s dependence on you is, frankly, unhealthy,” said Snape, and lowered his voice until Harry could only hear him because he was listening so hard that he could almost hear Snape’s blood circulating. “You cannot deny that he would be better off separated from you for a time, in an environment where he could learn to stand on his own two feet.”
            “Yeah,” said Harry. “Because Azkaban, which is the most regimented existence I can think of, would really teach him that.”
            He was breathless in his anger, and Snape stared at him with the same troubled eyes. It took Harry a lot longer to wrestle his anger under control than he had known it would. For a second, he was actually on the verge of telling Snape that Draco wanted someone to protect him, too, and didn’t have any intention of running away from the bond the second the trials were done. But no, that was Draco’s secret, and the bargain they had made. Harry wasn’t about to betray Draco’s trust by talking about it.
            But Greg wore his secrets on the surface; he had no reason to lie. At the moment, Harry thought it was a strength. It meant he could talk to Snape and maybe be understood.
            “Where has he ever developed that independence you want him to have?” Harry whispered harshly. “He was Draco’s lackey, and you never tried to change that. He was even following Draco around when he—when he came into the Room of Requirement and tried to capture me to deliver me to Voldemort.” For once, he didn’t feel bad about the way Snape flinched at the name. He should be flinching at a lot more than that. “His family encouraged him to follow Draco around and do what he was told. He’s happy in the bond. Maybe he should need more than that, but you don’t want to take up the burden of teaching him. You just want to wash your hands of him and leave him up to Azkaban.” Harry shook his head, then winced and stopped. He was too angry, and doing it that way made his neck burn. “No. I’m going to protect and hold and heal all of you. Not just a few people because it would be more convenient to do that.”
            “You let Mr. Zabini go.” Snape’s words were low, and his eyes flickered over the Wizengamot as if he would be glad to get interrupted, too.
            “Because he asked me,” Harry said. “Just the way that I’m going to let you go after the trials because you asked me to. That doesn’t mean that you get to make the decisions for Greg.” He leaned back in his chair and turned to face the front again. “In fact, it sounds like you’re still trying to determine where he belongs and what he should do. That power of choice you think he should have? You don’t want to give it to him.”
            “Harry—”
            Most of the time, Harry would have listened to him when he said that. Snape’s calling him by his first name was still rare. But Ollondors stood up then and looked around expectantly, and Harry shook his head. “The trial is starting.”
            Snape shut up. Harry turned to face the Wizengamot, the bond buzzing in his head and on his arm like cold fire. I’m going to save Greg. I want to. I made a promise.
*
            I did not know that he would do that.
            Although now that Severus thought about it, he acknowledged that he should have relied on Potter’s ability and determination to save people, before anything else. Of course he would want all his vassals with him, not in Azakban, even if there was a good chance that the Wizengamot would release the rest of them if they allowed him to put one in prison. And Greg was the one least able to defend himself, least able to stand on his own without the bond, the greatest liability to Potter, and the one least likely to pay his own debts after the war.
            But that had not mattered to Potter.
            Severus leaned back and watched as the trial began. Changes took her place in front of the witnesses and Mr. Goyle and looked around with a faint frown until even the whispers of their enemies in the back of the Wizengamot’s seats had subsided. Then she began to speak.
            And Severus learned quickly why Potter was so confident that he would be able to remove Mr. Goyle safely from the trials.
            “All of you know that certain pure-blood families encourage their members to act as servants to others,” said Changes, pacing so slowly back and forth that it was hard to see whether her robes were moving or not. “This may be because they have life-debts that need repaying, or perhaps because an older head of the family they serve was once their Lord or Lady. Or perhaps they simply don’t have the money and the connections and the magic to stand on their own.”
            Severus shot a swift glance at Mr. Goyle to see how he was taking this. But he only sat in his chair with a blank face, eyes focused on Potter. Severus wondered how much of it he understood.
            Draco had a more mask-like face, but it would take more effort than the Wizengamot members were likely to expend, with one Death Eater in front of them, to determine exactly what emotion he was trying to hide.
            “This is what happened with Gregory Goyle,” said Changes. “From birth, he was encouraged to wait on Draco Malfoy, to follow him around and do his bidding. When he was not with Mr. Malfoy, he was with his parents, being told stories about Lords and the good that it would do him to have one.”
            Severus sat up straighter. He could see the outlines of their strategy in his mind, and he had to admit the idea would be clever…
            If it would work. If the Wizengamot would believe it. Ollondors’s face had gone mask-like itself, and Severus had no idea what her response would be.
            “They tried to make Draco Malfoy into his Lord,” Changes said into the silence, “his family and the Malfoys. None of them seem to have suggested being bound to Mr. Malfoy in the true fashion of Lord and vassal, but I am not sure why. Perhaps they thought they were too young to do so, and it would wait until they were both of age and better able to handle the responsibility.
            “But then something else happened before Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Goyle came of age, something their families hadn’t anticipated. The Dark Lord returned.”
            “Are you a Death Eater, since you use that name?” asked an irritable-looking older woman towards the back of the room. Severus had no idea who she was. He wanted to frown at her for interrupting. He thought Changes’s argument depended on making the ball roll, just so, and it would do their side no good to have her lose her momentum.
            “No,” Changes said, and smiled at the woman. “I am a barrister, making a point. The Dark Lord bound his Death Eaters in a Lord-vassal relationship. There was no other reason for him to call himself that, or to insist on claiming the title Lord Voldemort.” And that she said without a flinch, which Severus had to commend her for, once his bounding heart recovered. “Will anyone here deny that the Dark Lord was learned in the elements of pure-blood culture, particularly its Darker elements? Will anyone here say they think the name was a coincidence?”
            Silence.
            Changes nodded, and went on. “So the Lord-vassal relationship was enacted between the Dark Lord and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Goyle instead. For Mr. Malfoy, it was difficult—for reasons that we shall get to during his trial. But for Mr. Goyle, it was only becoming a vassal the way he had been told he should be all his life.”
            “You can’t honestly expect us to accept the excuse that he was only following orders.” To Severus’s silent dismay, it was Ollondors who spoke, leaning forwards and shaking her head. She looked at Potter, with a frown. She probably thought she was helping him by being the opposition here, Severus decided, getting rid of a vassal who would drag him down. “Then we would have to excuse every Death Eater for that reason.”
            “But most Death Eaters did not come from families who had been told all their lives that the only thing they had to offer of value was their service,” Changes said smoothly. “They came from families that wanted power, and they allied with their Dark Lord to get it. They wouldn’t have become vassals if they didn’t think it would lead to greater power and independence in time.” She turned and glanced at Lucius, who sat in one of the chairs next to Draco. “Unless any of you think Lucius Malfoy the sort to bend his neck for an imaginary reward?”
            All of the court turned and looked at Lucius. His face was blank, too, of course, but Severus would have been more shocked than surprised if he could not play this game.
            “No,” Ollondors said at last, reluctantly. “But what makes you sure that Mr. Goyle was only following orders and honestly thought it was for the best?”
            “Mr. Goyle is best-suited to answer that for himself,” said Changes, and stepped back, one hand sweeping from Goyle to the front of the courtroom.
            Severus shook his head. Was Potter mad, to have Goyle testify when he was barely competent to speak on ordinary matters?
            Then he saw the way Potter lounged back in his chair, a smug smile on his face, and had to change his mind. Potter might know exactly what he was doing, almost all the time, even in something like this.
            It was awe-inspiring. And frightening.
*
            Greg walked up to the front of the room. Lots of people were staring at him. He hunched his shoulders. Lord Potter had told him just to feel and do stuff, and act calm. Well, Greg would stay calm, but he hoped he didn’t embarrass his Lord.
            “Why did you take the Dark Mark?” That was the tall woman in the front, who looked at him like she wanted to kill him.
            Greg relaxed a little. A lot of Death Eaters looked at him like they wanted to kill him. So this was familiar. “Because my father told me to,” he said. “Madam.” He thought it was okay to say that, and it wouldn’t betray his Lord. When he glanced back, Lord Potter was nodding, so it must be okay.
            The woman got his attention again. “Didn’t you think it wasn’t a good idea?”
            Greg hesitated, picking his way through that sentence a little. He wondered why so many people around him had to speak in such complicated sentences. Maybe it was fun for them. “No,” he said at last. “I thought I had to do it. My parents told me I needed a Lord. And he was a Lord, and he was right there.” He frowned, wondered if he could say one more thing, and then decided he could. “But he didn’t treat me right.”
            “If this is some appeal for sympathy on behalf of a torturer and murderer…” someone off to the right said.
            Greg wasn’t sure what that meant, but he just kept his eyes on the woman. He thought she was the one who had to ask questions, so she was the one who had to say things.
            “What do you mean, he didn’t treat you right?” The woman now only looked as if she would like to beat him up.
            “He wanted me to do things without telling me how to do them,” said Greg. He didn’t really want to remember the Dark Lord, but he had to, and he could feel the strength in his right arm. His Lord was right there, supporting him, trusting him. So he had to go on. “He would tell me to do things, and get mad when I didn’t do them right. But I don’t know how. That’s why I need a Lord. A Lord is supposed to give you orders.”
            “What kinds of things did he tell you to do?” asked the woman.
            “Torture people,” said Greg, and stared at his feet. “But I couldn’t get that right. I can’t do the spells. Then he told me to kill someone, but I messed that up, too. I could beat someone up, because I did that for Draco, but he didn’t want me to do that. He just told me to go along with people and be there, most of the time. Because I wasn’t any good for anything else.”
            It hurt to think that. It hurt to know that he hadn’t been good at anything, even though he had to be good at something if he wanted his Lord to keep him. And the Dark Mark had hurt, too, and he didn’t want it anymore, now that he had a better Lord, but he didn’t know how to get rid of it.
            Well, it was okay, Greg thought, and looked at the shield mark on his right arm. He had a Lord now who would keep him, and tell him what to do, and make things okay.
            “Why are you happy to be with your Lord now?” The woman sounded odd. Maybe she wanted to hurt him in a different way. “Why does he treat you differently than the Dark Lord did?”
            Greg smiled at her. Sometimes people could be nice that way. “Because he wants to keep me, and he said that I could stay with him, and he gives me orders I can do. Like guarding his rooms at night. But he always makes sure I sleep during the day, because I would get tired if I never slept.”
            The Wizengamot members looked at each other. Greg didn’t know why. He had told the truth. If they put him under Veritaserum, he would just say the same thing over again.
            Maybe they knew that. The woman stepped back and said, “No further questions,” and Lord Potter nodded at Greg to go back to his seat.
            Greg went and sat down. He hoped he hadn’t messed that up, but he didn’t think he had. Lord Potter was smiling.
*
            “You propose to keep Mr. Goyle with you, and under the bond?”
            Harry rose to his feet. As he had thought it would when he worked this out with Changes, Greg’s trial had gone smoothly. There was no reason for it not to. Greg had done plenty of bad things, and he didn’t really regret them as much as he regretted not being good at them, but there was also little point in punishing him. Azkaban would have little effect on him, for the same reason it had on Sirius; Sirius knew he was innocent, Greg thought he was. His family didn’t have a lot of money to confiscate. He hadn’t asked for mercy for his family members, and he would do anything Harry said, including stay under house arrest or give up his wand.
            “I do,” Harry said. “I already made the promise that he could stay with me, and I would keep him as a vassal even if I dissolved the bond for all the others.”
            “Forward of you, Mr. Potter,” Ollondors murmured, but shook her head when Harry looked at her with his eyebrows raised. “Yes. Well. A vote for Mr. Goyle to share Mr. Potter’s punishment, as a vassal under the hand of his Lord?”
            The vote went quickly, and without one exception. Harry sighed. Snape had been wrong. The Wizengamot didn’t just want a Death Eater to punish. They had specific victims in mind, and they cared very little about Greg.
            “And tomorrow…Mr. Draco Malfoy.”
            And I know exactly who that victim is, Harry thought, seeing the curl to Ollondors’s lip, and the light in her eyes.
*
pittwitch: Thank you!
SP777: Well, there’s also a trial to be got through first! But it’s coming.
delia cerrano: And that’s exactly the argument that Harry used, and the reason Harry used it.
Ciara_D: He was. And he gets even more practice in the next chapter.
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The Only True Lords