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Chosen Chains	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Chapter Six�The Room
of Lost Things

�� Hogsmeade
had no locksmith.

�� It also
didn�t have any shop where one could purchase ropes, chains, ordinary locks,
locking spells, leashes for dogs, wrist cuffs, or any of the other substitutes
Harry had thought might have a soothing effect on him, if he couldn�t have a
locksmith make him specially shaped personal chains.

�� Harry
closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of his room, wondering how long it
would be before he exploded, and if anyone would ever have any idea what had
destroyed the town. He had already slammed a hole clean through the wall of a
robe-maker�s shop to the outside world, his fist driven by the strength of his
magic. The staring woman hadn�t finished cowering when Harry had mumbled an
apology and run out of the place, his arse literally on fire.

�� Now his
mind spun and listed badly, and fragments of the thoughts that had plagued him
when he was victim to the centaur�s arrow danced in and out of his awareness,
making him flinch whenever he encountered them.

�� All this
time, he had basically believed that Ron and Hermione were right and that he
was wrong. He should have been
stronger. He shouldn�t need this as
much as he did, but should have been able to stand on his own two feet and
wrestle his anger back under control like a normal person. Hermione had similar
habits sometimes, too, at least if her liking for being held down during sex
was any indication, but she did that for pleasure, not because it was the only
way she could feel like herself.

�� Only this
morning, he had been thinking that Malfoy had done such a good job that he was
unlikely to need another session like that for months. Harry would have laughed
at the ironies of his life, but he knew the laughter wouldn�t stop.

�� Something
knocked against the window. Harry looked up. His owl, Catherine, was sitting
there, holding two letters. Her feathers were all on end, probably because his
magic filled the room with the kind of powerful, brooding presence that even an
owl could sense.

�� You can
leave those on the table,� Harry said. His voice sounded as if he chewed gravel
for a living. He cleared his throat. �I don�t want to incinerate you, and I
might if you come too close.�

�� Catherine
flew across the room, ignoring him, as she had a habit of doing, and dropped
the letters on the floor. Harry glanced down. The first had Muggle stamps on it
and looked as though someone had fought for possession of it with Catherine. It
was probably Annie Crompton�s, Harry thought. All the Muggleborn children had
difficulty adjusting to owl post at first.

�� The second
one was just a sheet of parchment, folded, with his name on the outside of it.
Harry picked it up and unfolded it, blinking.

�� The words inside
were as simple as his name, and had no signature attached. Of course, for the
kind of threat they contained, there was no reason they should.

�� I know about your abnormal sexuality. Flawed
but normal, I believe was the wording? I wonder what the wizarding world would
think if they knew their hero was anything but.

�� Harry
leaned his head back against the wall and laughed after all. He fell into the
flames, and he laughed. He fell into the darkness, and he laughed. He wheezed
and gasped, and someone pounded on the wall from the next room to let him know
that the noise wasn�t appreciated, and still he laughed, because what else in
the world could he do?

�� Catherine
was the one who brought him out of it, gripping his ear and pulling it. Harry
came back to himself with a gasp and the fear that he would lose a vital part
of his body. But the moment he reached up to free himself, Catherine leaped
away and flew to the windowsill, where she sat judging him.

�� Fine,
then,� Harry said. �I�ll carry on like normal as long as I can.� He picked up
the anonymous letter and glanced at it again. �Flawed but normal was the phrase
I used when I was talking with Dumbledore�s portrait in the library. Someone
must have listened in, and it was probably Covington. I don�t think Malfoy
would admit anything, since it makes him look bad as well as me, and Ron and
Hermione wouldn�t have a reason to hint.�

�� He stood up
and put Annie�s letter aside to read for later, then shook his head at
Catherine. She made as good an audience as anyone else, and right now, he
really needed to talk this out. �I really believed what I was saying at the
time I spoke to Dumbledore, you know? Flawed but normal. That I wasn�t a
fantasy hero. And I still think it�s true that I�m not the hero or the person
that Dumbledore and my friends wanted me to be.

�� But I
still want to be that person. That
desire is stronger than the desire to just get my life under control. I want to
be able to do what they want. I want my friendship with Ron and Hermione back.
I want a family. I want a regular lover.� He scrabbled his fingers through his
hair. �All that�s a lot more comforting than what I have now, where I�m only
calm and happy for a few days after a session, and then my anger starts
building up again. I just don�t know how to achieve any of what I want and
don�t have.�

�� Catherine
hooted derisively.

�� I know,�
Harry said. �I know. That�s the last thing I should be worrying about now. But
it�s the only new thing that the
centaur�s arrow brought out in me. I already knew that I felt guilt about the
deaths I caused and all the rest of it. It�s the thing that�s going to be the
hardest to deal with�except for the magic that might destroy me or other
people.�

�� He leaned
his head back against the wall and began carefully rebuilding his torn
barriers. At the moment, that had to be his priority. He and Malfoy would
finish the riddle quest as soon as possible, because that would enable Harry to
get away as soon as possible and back to Bradley or his paid Muggles. And he
would show Covington�s threat to Malfoy in the morning and ask how they should
deal with it.

�� For a
moment, just a moment, the thought crossed his mind that he could go back to
Malfoy and beg to be bound again.

�� But he knew
Malfoy would refuse, for all sorts of reasons, and why shouldn�t he?

�� Catherine
chose that moment to screech and leap off the windowsill, soaring in the
direction of the Owlery. Harry watched her go and wondered if she had sensed
what was going through his mind, and what she thought about it. Her cry really
didn�t reveal much one way or the other.

*

�� Draco
should have worked with his sentient potion that evening, but he was too
disturbed, even if it was by
something that shouldn�t have disturbed him. He settled into the chair in front
of the fire in Severus�s rooms instead and thought.

�� The first
thing he had to admit was that he had no rational explanation for what he was
thinking and feeling, not at all. Once he got that out of the way and dispensed
with, then the emotions could creep to the surface, where he could entertain
them.

�� He was
worried about Potter.

�� He wished
that Potter had come back with him to Hogwarts so that they could speak about
what had happened in the Forest and come up with a strategy for handling it.

�� He was
still not going to bind Potter to the bed, however, or fuck him, or do anything
else for him that would help settle his magic, unless Potter begged him.
Because he had had enough of not being desired or wanted for himself, of only
being second best or someone else�s bad choice.

�� The
conclusions were all clear enough in his mind, sharp enough to glitter like
jewels, or knives made of colored glass that Draco had once seen in a very select shop in Knockturn Alley. But that
didn�t give him any idea of what would happen next. He sighed wistfully. Was
this really only infatuation with the best fuck of his life, the kind of
childish belief that he should have been cured of long before?

�� I know
that your mind is not on potions.�

�� What gave
it away?� Draco murmured, not looking up. �The lack of a bubbling cauldron in
the room, or the sheer fixed stare?�

�� He could
hear the swish of Severus�s robes as the man paced slowly towards the other
side of his portrait. Limited art or not, Draco thought, the painter had done
an absolutely magnificent job. �It should be,� Severus said. �Potions, or the
job that you are doing here. I never thought you one to succumb to a foolish
infatuation with Potter.�

�� Draco
winced. Well, he had only himself to blame if his expression or actions had
given away his preoccupations. �Yes, I know,� he said.

�� Severus
paused, and when his voice spoke, the sneer in it couldn�t conceal his
surprise. �What? No rebukes that you are an adult man and can fancy whoever you
wish? No denials that Potter does not occupy your thoughts?�

�� What would
be the point?� Draco glanced up and managed a smile. Surprising Severus was its
own sort of victory. �You would know I was lying, and I prefer not to be caught
in any lie so obvious.�

�� Severus
smiled back after a difficult moment when Draco thought that he might be told
to leave the room. Then he turned back to his brewing, and Draco returned to
his thinking.

�� The clarity
of his conclusions did not vary, and at last he gave up and resigned himself to
thinking that he would simply have to wait until Potter came and asked for help
of his own free will. It might get them burned to death in the meantime, but at
least Draco could say that he went to death clinging to his pride.

�� And that
ought to make him Slytherin enough for even Severus�s approval.

*

�� This came
by my owl last night.�

�� Draco
barely got his hand up before Potter tossed the letter at him. Draco unfolded
it and read it, noting that the edge of the paper was crumpled, as though
Potter had crushed it in a fit of passion, but only the edge. At least he had
enough sense left to recognize important evidence he should preserve.

�� This looks
like Covington�s handwriting,� Draco said, covertly watching Potter as he
paused near the enchanted window and stared out over the lawn. Potter wasn�t
covered with any ghostly flames at the moment, but he did look as if he were
tense to the point of snapping. Draco wondered if he should want to be nearby
when Potter snapped or not. �How much do you think she knows?�

�� With luck?
Only the conversation in the library.� Potter spoke in a flat voice. Draco
found himself looking for clues in that, and told himself to stop it. �In which
case she knows that something is abnormal about my sexuality, but not exactly
what. I didn�t see the need to blurt out all the details of my sex life to
anyone listening.�

�� Good,�
Draco said. He could have made other comments, but he left it at that. �Then we
can still outface her.�

�� Not if she
intends to go to the papers.� Potter turned around, pressing his back flat
against the wall. �She could talk to Ron and Hermione and learn more details
then, and they might tell her. They have no reason to remain silent and protect
me now.� He lowered his head and closed his eyes. His face wore a defeated
expression.

�� Draco had
to search for the will to render his voice cool, but he managed it. �Well, you
can go home, then.�

�� Huh?�
Potter did look better confused than despairing. Draco told himself to remember
that, should he ever have need of such knowledge in the future.

�� If you
can�t think of a means of fighting her, and won�t,� Draco said, tossing the
bubble that contained the next riddle and next keyword from hand to hand, �then
you might as well leave. That means that I�ll face her alone. I, at least, am not afraid.�

�� Potter
stood up, and every inch of him bristled with defiance, reminding Draco of the
way that he had looked under the chains. Draco bit back the temptation to roll
his eyes when he had that thought. He sincerely hoped that the rest of his life wouldn�t be defined by the way that
he had had sex with Potter. With luck, his next Potions obsession would knock
this one out of his head. �I�m not afraid,� Potter said. �But I won�t be able
to stay here if she finds out and exposes the details.�

�� I don�t
think she would do that,� Draco said. �It�s to her advantage to husband the
knowledge. But if she did, your life wouldn�t literally come to an end.�

�� Severus
cleared his throat behind Draco, though he didn�t say anything. Draco knew what
the wordless message was meant to convey: Severus�s conviction that he was
going too far, recklessly racing after answers that he didn�t want and would
pay too much for.

�� It might
as well,� Potter said, and his voice was sunk in gloom. �They would laugh at me.�

�� So?� Draco
asked. �I had the impression that you lived at the edge of the wizarding world
anyway. You�ve already lost your friends, and they�ve already sacked you from
being an Auror. What else can they do?�

�� Potter
glared at him. The glare was far more heated than the one he had given the wall
at the mention of Covington, and Draco thought he knew why. Covington simply
wanted to hurt him. Potter was used to that. But Draco had the gall to try and
make him face himself.

�� What else
can they do?� Draco repeated, more softly this time, because he was interested
in what Potter would say. He stepped forwards, a hand resting on the wall. It
was the closest he had been to Potter since the disastrous end of their time
together in the Room of Requirement. �Tell me.�

*

�� Harry had
come here expecting not�

�� Not
understanding, not sympathy. He was wise enough to know that all the emotions
Malfoy felt like that, he would reserve for himself. But he had thought that he
would get some rough good advice about what to do with Covington�s letter, and
perhaps Malfoy would be able to keep him so focused that he wouldn�t need to
think about what the centaur�s arrow had done to him.

�� Instead, he
got a challenge and open mockery. And Malfoy was asking questions as though he
assumed he had the right to an answer.

�� Harry held
his breath in response. It wasn�t done to annoy Malfoy; he doubted that Malfoy
would even notice. But he shut his eyes and clung to the stilled motion of air
in his chest and the heat that started to build up in his throat and face, the
pressure behind his skin, the desperation of lungs reaching for air, until that
filled his world and he could think of it instead of the anger.

�� That didn�t
work often, but it did now. From the floating nest of calmed panic that was his
mind, Harry answered, �They could make my life a constant parade of Howlers and
mocking letters. I was content to sink out of sight when I realized that I
couldn�t change the Ministry�s mind about Hogwarts. I don�t want to come back
to the public�s notice like this.�

�� Indifference
breeds indifference,� Malfoy said, as quickly as if he�d anticipated Harry�s
answer and had his own ready. Harry felt a swirl of slow rage build up in him.
Why did Malfoy insist on this? Harry
hadn�t forced him to discuss the past. There was no reason to unless Harry�s
magic actively endangered Malfoy, and it wasn�t doing that so far. �If the
public has been content to ignore you for this long, I think it would take
something a lot more compelling to bring you back to their attention.�

�� Harry
choked back the words that he wanted to speak, that his sexuality was compelling and just scandalous
enough to tickle people�s interest. He would sound as though he thought
everyone in the world should be interested in him, and he could guess what
Malfoy would say to that.

�� He can�t continue the argument without me.
Why should I let him take advantage of me like that?

�� Harry opened
his eyes and said, �We should string Covington along, I agree. But we need to
come up with a specific lie to tell her so that she�ll think I�m cooperating,
rather than plotting to take revenge.�

�� For a
moment, Malfoy�s face shone with exquisite frustration, as if he didn�t know
what to do now that Harry had cut their argument off. Then he lowered his eyes
and nodded. �Tell her that you would be willing to let her have the keyword,�
he said, �but that you can�t do it yet, in case I get suspicious. The line
should be that you�re betraying me without my knowledge. She�ll like the
thought of having one over on me.�

�� Harry
nodded. �If she presses me for the keyword?�

�� Malfoy
shrugged impatiently. �You can give her a false one, and tell her that they�re
useless until we have all four, which I�m sure is true.�

�� It is,�
Snape said from his portrait.

�� Harry
opened his mouth to ask how Snape knew that,
when he didn�t seem to know much else that
was useful, but Malfoy rushed on. �We should open the bubble now and see what
the third riddle is. We haven�t done so yet.�

�� Harry
nodded again, stepped forwards, and let his hand rest on the bubble. Malfoy
caressed his fingers with a lingering motion. Harry drew in a breath of
annoyance, but otherwise didn�t react, and after a moment, Malfoy moved his
hand in the twist that would draw the bubble open.

�� The keyword
came out, and Malfoy stared at it and then gave a small smile. �Silver instruments,� he read.

�� Harry had
caught the riddle, and he stared at it.

�� Go to the room where the things were lost
that are most precious to Rowena, and draw forth the word from that which is
most precious to Helga.

�� Harry
blinked and handed it over to Malfoy to see if he had any idea of what this meant. But Malfoy only frowned at the
riddle, and turned the parchment over in the next moment to see if anything was
written on the other side. Nothing was.

�� I don�t
quite understand,� Malfoy said, leaning back and cocking his head as though he
expected the parchment to reveal the answer just to oblige him. �Ravenclaw
favored cleverness, and Hufflepuff loyalty. But those are abstract virtues. You
can�t draw forth anything from them, and you can�t find a place where they were
lost.�

�� Then we
should be looking for things that represent them,� Harry said. The solution
seemed obvious to him.

�� Once again,
he got a crushing look from Malfoy. But Malfoy only nodded and said, �What
represents them, then? And what room in Hogwarts contains them both? We could
go to Ravenclaw Tower, I suppose, but I find it hard to believe that they would
have an emblem of Hufflepuff House anywhere among their artifacts.�

�� Yes, it
doesn�t seem likely,� Harry had to agree. �If we could even get into the Tower.
I know that a riddle unlocked the door the last time I had to get in, but I
don�t know if we could answer it or if anyone�s set a new one.�

�� Malfoy
started to respond, but then paused and turned towards the door to Snape�s
rooms. Harry followed his gaze and saw a shadow pass under it. Someone was
waiting in the corridor, perhaps to speak to them, perhaps to spy on them.

�� Malfoy
would have stepped forwards, Harry thought, but he moved more quickly, and was
glad to have the distraction from the anger that was beginning to build up in
him again. He flung the door open, hoping Covington was on the other side of
it.

�� Hermione
was, and Ron hovered behind her. She flushed painfully when she saw him, and
cleared her throat. Harry waited for a lump of metal to fall out of it, but nothing
did.

�� I finally
managed to cure the curse you put on me,� she whispered. �Can I speak with you,
Harry?� She looked over his shoulder, found Malfoy with her eyes, and then
turned her head away again, obviously dismissing him from her reality.

�� What in
the world could we possibly have to say to each other?� Harry asked. He was
still angry as he stared at them, but more than anything else, he was weary. If
he spoke to them, he knew they would pull down some of the barriers he had put
up against the centaur�s arrow, and that meant reliving those agonies over
again. He didn�t want to. He didn�t
think he had ever been so tired.

�� Listen to
her,� Ron said, and nodded at Hermione, who then didn�t speak but spent a long
minute gnawing her lip.

�� Well?�
Harry demanded when the minute had passed. Anger was a sustaining force right
now. It gave him the strength to step back and grasp the door. �If you can�t come to the point when you
were the one who approached me in the first place and asked to talk to me��

�� Apparently
that was what Hermione needed to force her out of her silence. �No, wait!� she
said, eyes wide with something that looked like panic. �We want to work with
you on putting Hogwarts back together again.�

�� Harry
sneered automatically, turning to Ron. He was aware of Malfoy stepping up
behind him, but saw no need to respond to that. �What? Don�t you think getting
rid of Slytherin House is an acceptable compromise anymore?�

�� Hermione
winced, but persevered. The hardest part had always been the beginning for her,
Harry remembered. Once she was past that, she could stick to breaking the rules
or researching dragons or whatever it was they were doing with thoroughness
that outlasted his or Ron�s. �No. We don�t. We�ve�we�ve discovered some things
about what the Ministry wants to do that are unacceptable. We want to work with
you,� she repeated.

�� Harry
sneered again. �And what makes you think that we want to work with you?� he
asked. He badly wanted to swing the door shut, and he did move it an inch or
two.

�� There are
two of us,� Malfoy said. �And you haven�t asked whether I share your opinion in
all things, Potter.�

*

�� Potter
turned around looking like a coiled snake, his head bowed, his eyes so bright
that Draco thought he would have liked to kill Draco by the sheer force of his
glare alone. Draco glanced calmly back�in this case, the one who remained calm
would be the one who won�and then faced Granger and Weasley again. Their faces
were alight with a pathetic hopefulness.

�� I don�t want
to work with them,� Potter said, and his voice was charged with emotions that
Draco would have wanted to hear from him a few minutes ago. But Weasley and
Granger�s entrance had changed things.

�� But I want
to,� Draco said, and nodded pleasantly to the Weasel and Mudblood, who both
watched him as if they couldn�t believe their good fortune. �We could use help
to get around the Ministry, Potter, as we were discussing earlier, and we might
be able to use help with the riddle.�

�� Not their help.�

�� Draco
looked at Potter, astonished to find that he was the composed one for once,
which didn�t seem to happen often in their arguments. Potter stood with his
arms folded, his body forced away from Draco as though he could lessen their
connection by putting physical distance between them. His eyes were brighter
than before with hostility.

�� Why not?�
Draco asked. �We don�t need to tell them everything. Simply what would make
them useful to us.�

�� And what
makes you think we�d put up with that?� Weasley demanded.

�� Draco
turned back to in time to see Granger clamp a restraining hand down on
Weasley�s wrist. Draco didn�t need to do anything but smile. Granger was
mistress here, and she would make sure that Weasley acted in a reasonable
fashion, he thought. Weasley turned a deep red and looked away, which was all
the acknowledgement of reality Draco would get from that quarter.

�� You�ll put
up with it because Granger wants to work with us,� he said. �And once she
adopts a crusade, I know that she�s relentless. I remember how hard she worked
to try and make everyone stop abusing house-elves.�

�� Granger
flushed. Why not? Draco thought. She wasn�t to know that he retained those
memories because they were among his most amusing, not because he had been
impressed by her dedication.

�� And then
Granger spoiled it all by turning and looking at Potter, as if he were
ultimately the one who had to make the decision about whether they worked
together or not. �Harry?� she asked anxiously.

�� Ah, yes, precious Harry, Draco thought,
and glanced at Potter. �What about it, Potter?� he asked. �You were saying
yourself that we don�t have any idea where to begin with this latest riddle.
Perhaps Granger could help with that, too.�

�� Potter
stared at him with trembling muscles before he looked away and shut his eyes.
Draco wondered whether the rejection in that gesture was meant to cut him as
deeply as it did. But he thought not, on the whole. It was meant for Granger
and Weasley.

�� Fine,� was
what Potter said, his voice clipped. �Come up with lies to tell Covington and
solve the riddle, too. I�m sure that you�ll have it done before dinner.� He
slipped away and was in the corridor before Draco thought to stop him.

�� Harry!�
Granger cried after him again.

�� You�re
being rather childish, aren�t you?� Draco asked in his most detached voice.

�� Potter
stared at him over his shoulder. His eyes had darkened from their dangerous
shine, but Draco wasn�t sure that he was intended to find much reassurance in
that. Potter seemed poised on a quivering edge, though Draco was not quite sure
what would happen when he fell from that edge.

�� It�s my
privilege to choose to be that way,� Potter said. �In fact, I don�t see why
anyone needs me any longer, since speaking to Dumbledore�s portrait isn�t
necessary at this point.� He stared at Granger and Weasley then, and whatever
they saw in his face made them recoil, Weasley uneasily drawing his wand. �But
if I try to work with them, they�re going to tear up all the barriers I�ve
built and destroy all the progress I�ve made, and it won�t be long before
Hermione is recommending Healers. No.�

�� I won�t,
Harry,� Granger whispered, with sincerity as far as Draco could tell. �I
promise I won�t.�

�� You say
that, but I can�t trust you,� Potter said, and walked away.

�� Granger
looked as if she would faint. Weasley caught her in his arms and stood there
looking as small and lost as she was. Draco rolled his eyes and took over
before these two could hurt themselves trying to think on their own. �We should
try to solve this riddle,� he said. �Will you come in and work with me?�

�� Weasley
looked closely at him, as if trying to find the poison hidden in Draco�s offer.
Then he sighed and tugged Granger after him. Granger followed him, but her face
was still pale and shocked when she took the seat in front of Severus�s
portrait. Severus, Draco was glad to note, had the sense not to say anything at
all.

�� Draco
waited a moment for Granger to emerge from her trance, and, when she didn�t,
took up the riddle and turned to Weasley. �We need to find the room where
something precious to Ravenclaw was lost, and within it, something important to
Hufflepuff,� he said.

�� As he had
thought it might, the prospect of a question to answer�a non-obvious
question�woke Granger up. �Let me see the exact wording,� she said with fragile
authority, standing and extending her hand. �Depending on the wording, there
are a few things that it could mean. Ravenclaw valued wit, and intelligence,
and learning, and study, and books, and riddles��

�� Draco
leaned back in his chair and watched her with some amusement. Granger had her
head close to Weasley�s and was whispering intensely to him, now and then
pausing to glare at the riddle as if she thought the wording might have changed
between then and her last glance at it. Then she would whisper again, and
Weasley would nod. He was devoted to her, Draco thought. Whatever cracks had
appeared in the foundation of their friendship with Potter, nothing had
happened to affect their bond.

�� He could
wish he had a bond like that.

�� Draco
snorted, though it disturbed neither of the pair across the room. Yes, and he
could wish that he had a dozen fully-worked out sentient potions and a calm,
tamed Potter kneeling at his feet and awaiting his instructions. As long as he
was wishing.

*

�� Harry went
back to his room in Hogsmeade. He could have gone to the Forbidden Forest or
elsewhere, but he was tired, and he didn�t want to work on the difficult
process of soothing his anger. He wanted a place where he could get drunk in
peace.

�� When he
ended up in his room with a bottle of Firewhisky, he realized that someone had
been waiting for him. Catherine was on the windowsill, her tail spread out as
though she was catching the last rays of the sun. She gave him a single
commanding look and turned her back. Harry had no idea why, but he followed the
line where her beak had been pointing and saw Annie Crompton�s letter lying on
the table.

�� Harry
laughed. The sound made Catherine ruffle her feathers in irritation, but she
didn�t turn around. �Oh, yes,� he said. �That letter is going to solve all my
problems. The innocence of children, yes? Or the answer to the riddle and the
way to control myself will be there, and I would never have known if I hadn�t
looked.�

�� Catherine�s
back remained stubbornly turned. Harry had the feeling that he could commit
suicide and she would never notice or care. He reached out and picked up the
letter, turning it around. It was definitely from Annie. His name was written
on the outside of the envelope in painfully neat letters that he could picture
her bloody repressed parents making her write over and over again until they
were perfect.

�� A slight
smell of singed paper filled the room. Harry shook his head, angry that he
couldn�t even hold a bloody envelope without causing some kind of damage, and
then tore it roughly open.

�� The letter
had the same painfully neat writing. Harry lit the fire in the hearth and then
leaned towards it so that he could have enough light to read; his aimless
wandering during the afternoon and then his inability to find Firewhisky strong
enough to drown his sorrows on the first try meant it was dark now.

�� Dear Mr. Potter:

�� I don�t know if I should write to
you. It is very hard. I want to know about the magical school but maybe I don�t
want to go there. What is it like? Will I have my own room? How will I learn
magic? Are the teachers mean? What was it like when you were a boy? How long
would I be away from my parents?

�� Sincerely yours,

�� Annie.

�� Harry shook
his head at Catherine, not that she turned to look. �There�s nothing in here
but questions,� he said. �Questions that I can�t answer, since I have no idea
what professors still work at Hogwarts, aside from McGonagall and Flitwick. And
I have no idea what Ron and Hermione would be like as teachers.�

�� Catherine
spread her wings, stood a moment gazing across the town, and then swooped off.
Harry went to the window to watch her fly. She soared silently over the roofs
and towards the distant forest. Harry could imagine her becoming lost there,
only one more hunter among the dark and tangled branches.

�� He wished
he could fly away from his troubles as easily. Going up on a broom no longer
soothed him, or he would have done it long since.

�� He stayed
there with his arms folded on the windowsill, long after he couldn�t see
Catherine anymore, long enough for the moon to come up. Then he turned and
stared again at the letter on the table, with the jug of Firewhisky beside it.
Ideas and thoughts chased themselves around his head and subsided almost before
he could see what they were.

�� Would Annie
want to hear from someone as screwed-up as he was, someone who couldn�t even
face his own problems without exploding? Someone who had come to Hogwarts
intending to try and open the school again on its own terms, not as a place the
Ministry could hold power, and had failed?

�� He wasn�t a
hero.

�� Harry shut
his eyes then and, still so near the wall so that he could feel it against his
back, slid slowly down to the floor. His ideas solidified and hovered in his
head like a huge cloud. He couldn�t see around it. He had to walk through it.

�� He wasn�t a
hero. He had told that to Dumbledore, and at the time, like so much else he had
said during the conversation in the library, he had thought he believed it. But
he didn�t. He did think that he should be a hero. He should handle all his
problems perfectly, leave no way for them to hurt him, and make everyone else
as happy with him as they could be when he hadn�t defeated Voldemort the first
time he met him, the way a perfect and shining hero would.

�� Harry
dropped his head on his knees and folded his arms around it.

�� Did it
matter that people weren�t happy with him? But of course it did. Ron and
Hermione�s disapproval of his method of coping hurt, because they were his
friends and Harry wanted them to approve of something he did. Random people in
the street could shout curses at him and he would laugh, but his friends were
in a different class, an exalted one.

�� That was
the root of the problem, and why he couldn�t work with them when they offered.
Sooner or later they would get around to disapproving again, and he would be
hurt again, and he would lash out, and that would increase the disapproval, and
bring around the whole circle of emotions again in a vicious cycle.

�� He wished,
fervently, that he had never told anyone about what he did to subdue the anger.
Then he could have gone on living a normal life in the wizarding world,
fighting the Ministry until Hogwarts was free, and choosing the kind of
discreet partners who never spilled their clients� secrets because their
reputations meant more money for them in the future than the quick and dirty
rewards of blackmail would.

�� His mind
quivered, and he frowned. Someone else had spoken words like that to him
recently. Who?

�� Of course.
Dumbledore.

�� I wished to see you have the life
you would have had without your parents� death and without the scar on your
forehead.

�� That�s
impossible,� Harry whispered. �My parents� death and my scar have been part of
me from the first days I can remember.�

�� And the
fact of his confession to Ron and Hermione had been part of his life for two
years now. Why hadn�t he faced up to it yet?

�� Harry drew
a slow, tearing, painful breath, and then climbed to his feet and limped across
the room to answer Annie�s letter. He didn�t want to think anymore about what
he had just thought, although he knew the cloud would hang in the back of his
mind until he did.

�� And it did.
He wrote simple, mechanical answers to most of Annie�s questions, confessing
that he didn�t know certain things when he really didn�t, and then sent the
letter off with Catherine, who had reappeared silently on the windowsill as if
she knew when he�d done something productive. He sat up on his bed and watched
the moonrise, and then he watched the shadows creep across the walls, and he
fell asleep with the cloud in the back of his mind.

�� It was only
when he woke in the morning that he realized he hadn�t needed the Firewhisky.

*

�� The spiral
staircase that led up to the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room looked as
though no one had dusted it in years. Draco curled his lip and silently changed
his mind about the Ministry not having interfered with the house-elves.

�� The door
had nothing on it but a brass knocker in the shape of an eagle. Granger rapped
it confidently, her eyes shining. Draco wondered idly if it was the activity
that pleased her or the chance to show off her intelligence. It required no
great brains to decide that the Ravenclaw common room was a likely hiding place
for the third keyword, but it might require them to answer the riddle the eagle
would ask.

�� Weasley
hovered behind them both. Draco tried to ignore his uneasiness over that. He
still had no idea what had motivated Granger and Weasley to offer their help,
but he trusted that the spells in his mind and the potions concealed here and
there under his robes would protect him if they intended treachery. In the
meantime, they were less annoying to work with than Potter was, and Draco
intended to keep ahead of the Ministry before he did anything else.

�� The knocker
spoke in a soft, hesitant voice, clearly female. Draco wondered if it was meant
to be Rowena Ravenclaw�s. �What makes an Animagus choose his form?�

�� Granger
appeared to grow three inches taller. �He
doesn�t choose,� she said. �The magic chooses for him, but an individual�s
magic is part of that individual, and often appears the same as his personal
will and desires.�

�� The door swung
open. Granger walked in still strutting, and Draco shook his head in amusement
as he followed her. If nothing else, working with her, and knowing how to
handle her peculiar pride, meant that he would keep his mind on his work more
effectively than he had with Potter.

�� Potter was�

�� Exasperating, Draco thought firmly, in
place of the other adjectives he could have used, and then turned and looked
around slowly at the Ravenclaw common room, searching for a likely hiding place
for the next riddle and keyword.

�� The room
was still bright and airy, despite the layer of grime on the windows and
curtains. The ceiling, painted with stars, caught Draco�s eye first; he
examined the constellations pictured there, wondering if Severus and Dumbledore
were thinking of a symbolic representation of cleverness. On the other hand,
most of the legends Draco knew about the figures who had become the
constellations didn�t portray their intelligence at all, but rather their brute
strength and bad luck.

�� Could it
have something to do with Ravenclaw�s diadem?� Weasley asked in what he,
laughably, must imagine was a whisper, close to Granger�s ear. Draco could hear
them, of course, although they were over near the largest window and he stood
in the center of the room. �That�s something Ravenclaw lost.�

�� Don�t be
silly, Ron,� Granger said, with an inflection in her voice that told Draco
those were four of her most frequently spoken words. �If Professor Snape and
the Headmaster had known about the diadem, then we wouldn�t have had to seek it
out. They would already have found and destroyed it.�

�� Memory
stirred in Draco�s head of the Room of Hidden Things and a diadem he had seen
once before, slung carelessly over the ear of a statue. But he shook his head,
because thoughts of the room would lead to thoughts of Fiendfyre, and that would lead to thoughts of Potter.
He was not prepared to deal with them or their distraction from his work yet. �Ravenclaw
valued intelligence,� he said aloud. �Hufflepuff valued loyalty.�

�� But that�s
not the only thing each Founder is famous for,� Weasley said. He seemed
determined to prove that he wasn�t a complete
waste of space. �Ravenclaw had patience, too, and determination. All those
study skills and the hours that you have to spend on research. And Hufflepuff
wanted to teach everyone, so she valued inclusivity.� He chewed his lip, an
expression on his face that proved he was reaching very deep indeed for all
these thoughts. �The riddle said that Rowena
and Helga valued these things. We
should be thinking about the Founders themselves, not the Houses necessarily.�

�� Draco
inclined his head, impressed in spite of himself. Keep Weasley and Granger away
from discussions of sexuality, and they proved their worth. Perhaps that was
Potter�s original mistake. �Very well,� he said. �Find me a monument to patience
or intelligence or determination in this room, and I�ll concede that you�re
right.�

�� We
shouldn�t be looking for that,� Granger said. �After all, this is the Ravenclaw
common room. The whole House embodies virtues that Rowena Ravenclaw believed
in. We should be looking for something important to Hufflepuff.� She peered at
the windows and the floor with an expression of slight perplexity, as if she
thought the relevant feature would announce itself to her.

�� Very
well,� Draco said, with an elaborately polite tone that neither of them seemed
to realize was an insult, though Weasley gave Draco a glare on general
principles. �Do you see anything that would symbolize loyalty and inclusivity?�

�� More
inconclusive peering about. Draco himself thought they were in the wrong
place�the Ravenclaw common room would be too obvious, and Severus and
Dumbledore had meant to make the riddles difficult�but he didn�t yet have a
better suggestion, so he held his peace. Weasley cast spells on the curtains
while Granger murmured a few specialized charms at the chairs.

�� Draco
leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes. Yes, what the Founders had valued
mattered, but so did what Severus and Dumbledore thought of the Founders
valuing. Very few direct historical records remained of the Founders� time; it
wasn�t even known for sure why Slytherin had left the school, though of course
every House had its own tradition. So what about Dumbledore and Severus? What
would they have believed? Draco wished that the portraits had enough memories
left to answer that question.

�� What had
they both feared losing most?

�� That answer
was easy. The war. But Draco had to admit that he couldn�t immediately see the
connection between losing the war and losing something precious to Ravenclaw.

�� Go back to that year in your mind, he
command himself. Think about what Severus
said to you concerning the war when you were alone together. Think about his
effort to rescue you and keep you from killing Dumbledore. It wasn�t about
preserving the old man�s life. You knew that, later, It was about preserving
your innocence, your soul. They would have worried about people losing their
souls.

�� But there again Draco ran aground, because that
wasn�t something Ravenclaw, as far as he knew, had ever cared about. The
traditions of Slytherin said that Ravenclaw thought souls were in books, if
they were anywhere. She would have run to save the library before any one
individual student.

�� I wish I could talk with Potter. Dumbledore
might have said something he would remember.

�� Draco
rejected the notion instantly. For that matter, he could speak with
Dumbledore�s portrait himself, assuming the daft old man would come when Draco
called. And Potter wasn�t likely to offer them any help.

�� He,
Granger, and Weasley spent hours in Ravenclaw Tower, but came to no
conclusions. Granger finally led the way down the staircase, frowning.

�� I was so
sure,� Draco heard her muttering to herself. �Where else would they have put
it? There�s no other area in the school strongly associated with Ravenclaw, unlike
the Chamber of Secrets with Slytherin. Where is it?�

�� Draco
smiled grimly. At least he could be sure that he and Granger had one emotion in
common that might serve to bind them together: frustration.

*

�� The cloud
was waiting for Harry to work through it when he sat up in bed the next
morning.

�� He could
have left, of course. There was nothing to prevent that, not really. But he felt as if there was. The cloud of
emotions and dreads crouched between him and the door like a wild beast,
refusing to let him out.

�� Fine, Harry thought, leaning back on the
pillows and closing his eyes to block out the light from the window and thus
the temptation to look at it. Is there
anything I can do to come to terms with my shame over needing to be tied?

�� He couldn�t
think of anything. He ought to be able to keep it private if he wanted to.
Considering the disastrous consequences that had followed when he confessed the
truth to Ron and Hermione, and the threat Covington was holding over his head
from the minor knowledge she possessed, keeping it private was the best course.

�� But the
reason for that privacy?

�� Harry
winced. This was the weak point where Malfoy would attack him, and he knew it.
If he could come up with the arguments to counter it, then he would be prepared
both for the chance that he might meet Malfoy again and for the nights when he
lay awake in his bed and wondered if he could have done anything different.

�� I
shouldn�t have to keep it private out of shame,� he whispered. �I shouldn�t
have to keep it private because I�m afraid of the way people will look at me
once they know what I need. I shouldn�t have to keep silent about it for
anything other than my own choice.�

�� So much for
the arguments Malfoy would make. The objections crowded Harry�s
throat�objections that all came from himself, and not from arguments that other
people had tried to feed him. That made it a lot easier for Harry to take them
seriously. He had always needed this, maybe, time to sit down and think about
it by himself instead of the talking that Hermione and the Mind-Healers thought
was the right thing.

�� You still wouldn�t be doing this if the
centaur�s arrow hadn�t forced you to face it.

�� Harry
silently acknowledged that and then put aside the thought. So maybe he wouldn�t
have done this on his own. The important thing was that he faced what was happening, surely, not why. He would worry about the
motive behind it later.

�� What were
the reasons against keeping his needs silent merely because of his choice?

�� I don�t
want to need this,� he whispered, and then paused, listening to the echoes of
his words die away in his empty room. They did much the same thing in the empty
confines of his skull.

�� That was
the root objection, the one that all the other, defensive and offensive
arguments came from. He could argue to Hermione that it was the only thing that
worked and therefore he had to accept it, which was true. But if God had woken
him up tomorrow and offered him a different choice, to be someone who wasn�t
fucked-up like this, then Harry knew what he would have chosen.

�� So. What do I do about that? Do I really
have to be �comfortable in my own skin,� the way that Hermione would phrase it,
all the time?

�� Harry
leaned back against the headboard and gave the answer to that one aloud. He
wasn�t even sure which side of the argument he was on anymore; he just knew
what the answers to certain questions were. �I don�t have to be. I can feel
discomfort about my choices. But I need to be able to act so that I�m not
constantly getting in my own way, or burning down buildings, or endangering
other people.�

�� In his
bitterer moods, he�d been pleased when people backed away from him, staring
with wide eyes at the flames that coiled down his sides. But that wasn�t the
way he wanted to live. He wanted to
sit in a Muggle home that reminded him of the Dursleys� and concentrate on the
effect the parents might have on their magical children, rather than simply
roiling about in a sea of his own memories.

�� But there
wasn�t a way, that Harry knew of, to become more comfortable with the dreaded,
stupid, ugly thing that he needed. Why should there be? Normal people didn�t do
that, and Harry had wanted to be normal, had wanted to be �just Harry,� for a
long time.

�� He winced
suddenly.

�� That�s what I told Dumbledore I was. Flawed
and normal. But I�m not. I�m not a hero, and I�m not normal in the way he
wanted me to be, but I�m not normal in the way I thought I was, either.
I�m�strange.

�� The
thoughts after that came slowly, as if Harry was pulling a thick rope out of
caverns choked with rot and slime. He�d got so far easily because these were
conversations that he�d often had with himself before. But now he had to think
new thoughts, and test them for truth, and slowly work them into congruity with
the ones that had come before.

�� It took a
long time.

*

�� I don�t
know where else to look.�

�� Draco arched
his eyebrows. Granger admitting defeat was a large thing, for her, and probably
novel, from the way she sat on the chair in Severus�s quarters with her head
slumped into her hands. Draco studied her for a moment, then turned to Weasley,
waiting to see if he was any more hopeful.

�� But Weasley
was staring at the wall with the pathetic-puppy look that Gryffindors pulled
off so well. Draco kept his scowl behind the placid, perfect mask of his face.
He had run into the limitations of working with Weasley and Granger, it seemed.
Potter was more sullen, but he also had more ideas. Draco had accepted Weasley
and Granger�s help because it seemed they would help him move closer to the end
of his task more quickly, but what good was that if they gave up at the first
obstacle?

�� Well, one gives up and the other sits down
because she thinks for him, Draco amended conscientiously.

�� There must
be somewhere else,� Draco said. �I know that you�ve read Hogwarts, A History.� Draco had seen her carrying around the
enormous book more than once when they were students, and as far as he knew,
she was the only one who ever took it out of the library. �Is there a
historical event during which Ravenclaw lost something? Faith, her family, an
artifact that was important to her and that Professor Snape and the Headmaster
would have known about?� He was not going to call Severus by his first name in
front of this pair.

�� Granger
shook her head. �I�ve already thought about everything like that,� she said,
and went on before Draco could do no more than stare at this frankly incredible
claim. �There was one possibility, but the professors couldn�t have known about
it. It had to do with defeating Voldemort, you see, and I�m sure they would
have done it on their own rather than leave it for Harry and us to do during
the war.�

�� Draco
carefully tucked away that statement as something he wanted to ask Potter about
later�if there was a later, with them�and shrugged. �Then I suggest we spend a
few hours apart and think on it in private.� If Weasley can, when his brains are in your skull. �Perhaps we will
have more ideas when we come back together again.�

�� He thought
Granger would object, but she didn�t, only nodding wearily and leaving the
rooms with Weasley trailing after her. Draco shook his head. Perhaps Granger
was one of those people who needed to brood on an idea until it came to her in
a brilliant flash, the way that Draco�s solution for the riddle the day before
last had come to him.

�� And then
again, perhaps she was good at puzzles related to homework and the Dark Lord
and nothing else.

�� Draco was
about to summon a house-elf to bring him food when someone knocked at his door.
Draco paused. He didn�t think that was Potter repenting of the way he had
treated Draco or Granger rushing back with an unanticipated answer. It sounded
official.

�� Covington.

�� Well, Draco
had wondered when she would attack. No surprise that she would wait until what
seemed the breakup of a discussion of allies and then come along and �politely�
inquire what progress they might have made.

�� He strolled
to the door in a leisurely fashion, but Covington showed no impatience when he
opened it. In fact, she gave him a simple smile and made a deprecatory gesture
with one arm. �You might already have eaten,� she said, �as it�s rather late
for a noon meal, but I would invite you to lunch if you haven�t.�

�� Draco
measured her with his eyes for a long, silent moment. Covington retained her
smile and showed no sign of impatience.

�� Strange that she would be attacking me
instead of Potter. He�s the weak link in any defense, with his terror of
blackmail. Draco gritted his teeth against the surge of contempt that swept
over him. But perhaps that�s the point.
She�s sure of success there, and she�s come to try and gain the same sort of
foothold with me.

�� I would be
delighted,� he said, and turned to gather up his cloak, in case she wanted to
eat outside.

�� Have you
seen Potter today?� Covington asked his back. �I had important matters to speak
with him on, but he seems to be avoiding me.� There was a tone of concern in
her voice, not hurt, which Draco had to applaud her for. She knew as well as he
that she wouldn�t get away with sounding hurt
that Potter was refusing something to the Ministry, or rather, to the
Ministry through her.

�� I haven�t,
actually,� Draco said, and decided that Covington might as well share his
worry. �He might be leaving the school. He said something to that effect
yesterday.�

�� He was in
time, when he turned back, to see her standing there with staring eyes and
down-drawn brows. But she recovered so quickly Draco wasn�t sure if she was
worried or only surprised, and held out her arm to him. Draco took it and
tucked it through his.

�� He did
glance back before he left the room, but for once, Severus had no words of
advice.

*

��

�� By the end
of several hours of concentration that left him as weary as he had sometimes
got working outside in the garden on Privet Drive, Harry had come to several
conclusions.

�� First, he
was always going to be strange and different. His one big chance to fit in to
the normal wizarding world had come after the war had ended, and he�d botched
it. He hadn�t stayed an Auror, he hadn�t married and had a family, and he
couldn�t be just a normal bent wizard, either. That was the way it was.

�� Second, he
had to put up with needing to be bound. If he was lucky, it would be once every
few months the way it had always been. If he wasn�t lucky, it would happen more
often. He could complain, he could hide it, he could accuse Ron and Hermione
bitterly of any crime he liked, but he wouldn�t change it.

�� Third,
things would be more comfortable if
he had a regular lover who was willing to put up with his strangeness and help
him. But Harry had no idea who such a lover could be or what he could offer in
return.

�� Fourth, he
was going to try again with Ron and Hermione. He hadn�t been the only one at
fault, but he�d been a lot more ashamed than he�d thought he�d been. So he
would tell them that, explain, apologize, and emphasize that he was not going to become Hermione�s therapy
project, and that would have to do.

�� Spent,
Harry lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes. He didn�t know what came
next, at least in the immediate sense. He had paid for his room until tomorrow
and didn�t need to move or even go down to fetch dinner if he didn�t want to.

�� But
restlessness hammered against his sides and his skull, and eventually, when he
felt he could, he stood up and went to take a shower that should relieve the
aches and pains.

�� And after
that�

�� Harry
reckoned he could do worse than going up to Hogwarts and seeing if he could
corner his former best friends.

*

�� Mr. Potter
is reluctant to take advantage of the offer we have made him. I was wondering
if you could tell me why that is?�

�� Draco took
a long, slow sip of his soup before he answered. Covington had taken him to a
restaurant in Hogsmeade that had opened since Draco�s time at Hogwarts, the
Silver Apple, which he had heard about but never visited. Its reputation for
quietness, dim fires, and excellent food was real. Draco couldn�t say anything
about the brilliance of the conversation, its other reputed feature, given who
he was dining with.

�� Surely you
must understand Potter�s psychology better than I do,� he murmured. �You work
for the Ministry he also worked for, until two years ago.�

�� Covington
sighed. �I never dealt with him when he was there, and I don�t quite understand
the roots of the philosophical disagreement that made him leave. Perhaps you
can help me understand that as well?�

�� Draco had
to smile at her audacity. Covington didn�t seem to know what to make of the
smile, if the hesitation before she began to pick at her salad again was any
indication.

�� I
understood that the philosophical disagreement was simple and one that you must
have had ample opportunity to observe for yourself,� Draco said mildly. �After
all, he disagreed with the control that the Ministry wanted to have over
Hogwarts.�

�� Covington raised
her shoulder in a shrug. �Someone must. Dumbledore may have been wise, but not
all Headmasters of the school can be equally wise. And of course, the idea that
the government of the wizarding world should not have a say in the schooling of
our children would be one that many reasonable people would look askance at.�

�� We should
at least try the experiment of an independent school under the guidance of
another Headmaster before declaring that no one else could maintain the quality
of his rule,� Draco said, and finished his soup.

�� We have
tried the experiment of an independent school for many years,� Covington
countered. �Children were exposed to war and to choices that they should never
have had to make.�

�� Draco
raised an amused eyebrow. �Are you suggesting it was Dumbledore�s fault that
Death Eaters took over the school in the last year before it closed, rather
than the Dark Lord�s?� He wanted to see how Covington would get out of that
one.

�� I am sure
the Headmaster did not intend what happened,� Covington said, in the gentle
tone that could so easily suggest the exact opposite. �But it is true that he
trusted Severus Snape more than he should have, and prioritized maintaining his
cover among the Death Eaters over the safety of his students.�

�� If no
Headmaster can be another Dumbledore, then surely that will not happen again,�
Draco said sweetly, and restrained the temptation to point out that, if
Dumbledore hadn�t done that, the chances were excellent that they would now all
be slaves of the Dark Lord.

�� We have
seen what wizards can do when pushed to the breaking point of their most
fundamental passions,� Covington said. �When they fear for their lives.
Students who come to Hogwarts in a few years� time will feel the effects of
that legacy. Soon we will have the children of those who fought in the war.
What will their parents have taught them? That safety is to be prized over
anything else, because survival was during the war. We have an obligation to
consider keeping our students alive first.�

�� I fail to
see how an independent Headmaster would jeopardize that.� Draco considered
ordering a salad of his own and decided he wasn�t hungry enough.

�� Covington
sighed. �I have provided evidence. If you do not wish to listen to it, that is
your affair.�

�� Which
leaves us where we were before,� Draco observed, and signaled the waiter for a
glass of wine. �You wishing to understand what happened between Potter and the
Ministry, and wishing to know what happened when Potter left the Ministry, and
me unwilling to tell you.�

�� Covington
smiled and looked over his head. �I think that we can settle this matter by
appealing directly to the party we are both interested in,� she said. �I see
Potter walking down the street outside. Shall we go to him?�

�� Startled,
Draco turned his head. Yes, through the large plate-glass window of the Silver
Apple, he could see Potter walking down the main street of Hogsmeade, a
determined expression on his face. An Impervious Charm covered his hair against
the light rain that had started falling, but it had managed to look disordered
anyway. Draco licked his lips and hoped that he looked sufficiently cool and
uninterested.

�� Let�s,� he
said, and nodded to the waiter before placing sufficient Galleons on the table
to cover the cost of the meal.

*

�� Potter!�

�� At least
the name they used told Harry this wasn�t Ron or Hermione even before he turned
around. He didn�t think they would call him by his surname when he�d last seen
them outside Snape�s rooms anxious to reconcile with him.

�� But he had
to admit, he didn�t expect to see both Covington
and Malfoy when he turned around, only the first one. He immediately turned his
head and kept his eyes fixed on Covington alone. He had no idea what he would
have said to Malfoy even if he wanted to see him.

�� Malfoy was
fixing his gaze on Harry as if he did know
what he wanted to say and planned to lash Harry with his words. Harry
straightened his back and ignored him.

�� He would
speak with his friends, yes. They had showed that they wanted to reconcile, and
that gesture alone had been enough to startle Harry into reevaluating truths
that he�d thought were long since pinned-down. But Malfoy had pushed him and
pushed him and�

�� Had said
things that also made Harry realize that he was still ashamed of a secret he�d
thought he�d come to terms with.

�� The centaur�s arrow was what did the real
work, not Malfoy�s words, Harry told himself, and then attended to the
conversation. �Malfoy, Covington,� he said, with shallow nods of his head, and
nothing else. He didn�t think that he could reasonably pretend to be interested
in their health, when one of them had threatened him and he had walked away
from the other with angry words.

�� Potter,�
Malfoy said, and Harry knew then that Covington must have spoken his name the
first time. Malfoy�s voice was soft, caressing, and he matched the word with a
peculiar smile that made Harry instantly cautious.

�� He shrugged
a little and said, �Was there something you wanted?�

�� Covington
had a question that she wanted to ask you, yes,� Malfoy said in innocent tones
that made Covington straighten up in turn. �She wanted to know why you broke
from the Ministry over the matter of Hogwarts.�

�� Because I
thought you lot would take over the school and turn it into a machine for the
production of good little machine-citizens, however you define them,� Harry
said, unmoved. He could say anything he liked now. He was going to leave and
wasn�t involved in this delicate dance of keeping Hogwarts free of the
Ministry. Ron and Hermione and Malfoy could probably manage that if they were
allied, anyway. �How can you question that?�

�� That is
not what we would have done,� Covington said, and all but fluttered her
eyelashes at him.

�� But Harry
wasn�t going to be taken in with those subtle games. He shrugged to throw off
her claim on him, and then said, �Of course you say that, but that�s the way it
would have worked out, and I don�t care any longer about propitiating you.
Someone who threatens to blackmail me quite often loses my sympathy.�

�� I don�t
know what you�re talking about.� Covington�s tone had turned flat and bored,
and anyone who passed them and glanced at her would have thought she was
discussing a matter of no more importance than the next meal they would have
together.

�� Pretend
that, then,� Harry said. �I�m indifferent to it now.� He nodded to Malfoy. �I
wish you well in your goal of getting Slytherin House restored and winning any
other consolations that you can wrench from their clutches.� He turned his
head.

�� You and I
have more business to talk about than that, Potter,� Malfoy said.

�� Harry
closed his eyes as he suffered a spasm of irritation. He gave Malfoy every
chance to walk away, and Malfoy still insisted on making the connection. Harry
didn�t understand. Malfoy thought he was stupid and stubborn and oblivious. Why
would he want to sleep or talk with
someone like that?

�� Maybe you can take this chance to show him
that you�re no longer like that.

�� Harry
hesitated and then turned back. �Fine,� he said. �You have five minutes, and I
want to do it in private, not in front of her.� He jerked his head at
Covington.

�� Covington
appeared to have already been offended by the fact that Harry wouldn�t play her
little games anymore. She shook her head with a cold smile. �You need not worry
about me, Mr. Potter,� she murmured. �I will be content if I can serve the
goals of the wizarding world�s future, rather than my own private feuds.� She
bowed to them and stalked away, cloak all but floating behind her.

�� You might
just have ruined our strategy,� Malfoy wasted no time in telling Harry.

�� The way
that you will, by telling me how I did, in front of a street full of
strangers?� Harry asked in interest.

�� Malfoy
jolted as though someone had pinched his arse and looked over his shoulder
suspiciously. Then he made a beckoning motion and walked into a side alley
between two shops that didn�t have windows facing the alley. Harry gave a
little sigh and followed. He hoped that he had the sense to walk away if it
turned out that talking with Malfoy would produce nothing but frustration.

�� That�s the first of many steps that I could
take to try and live a new and better life, he thought, leaning against the
wall of the alley and regarding Malfoy with as much indifference as he could. Don�t put up with situations that frustrate
me.

�� What did
you want?� he asked. �Covington had a question, but did you?�

�� I wanted
to know if you�d done some thinking in the day since we parted,� Malfoy said,
and raked him with an expert glance. �No actual growing up, I see. You can�t
even be bothered to comb your hair.�

�� Harry
rolled his eyes. �I was going up to the castle to try and apologize to Ron and
Hermione, if you must know.�

�� Malfoy
again jolted. Harry wondered if that was uncomfortable for him. He leaned
forwards this time and scanned Harry�s face as if he could read the truth
there, even though Harry was telling him
the truth. �Why?� he breathed.

�� Harry
shrugged. �The centaur�s arrow made it possible for me to face some of the
things I�d been repressing.� He hesitated, then decided to be generous. Maybe
Malfoy would be less frustrating if he was. �And so did your words. It made no
sense to be so ashamed of my secret if I�d really accepted it.�

�� What did
you decide about that?� Malfoy�s voice shifted a tone deeper.

�� That I�ll
probably always need my�things,� Harry said, and Malfoy half-turned his head as
if to conceal a smile. Harry hissed. �Fine. I�ll always probably have to be
bound and fucked. But once every few months, to control my anger, not as a
regular activity. And I�d like someone to share it with, but I doubt that
person exists.�

�� I could be
that person.�

�� Harry
stared. There was no reason for him not to.

*

�� Draco knew
Severus would have deplored the risk. So would he, in more rational moods. But
�rational� did not apply to standing in an alley with Harry Potter and talking
about his sex life.

�� He had had
the most amazing sex of his life with this man, though. He had commanded him to
return to the real world with his voice alone, and Draco had to admit that was
a rush of power when he thought about it�away from the immediate dangers of
facing the centaur�s arrow and fearing that Potter would die for it, or at
least be lost forever to mental isolation. He�d fought the water-snakes and
solved the riddles with him. Draco foresaw the possibility for an intellectual
companionship with Potter as well as a sexual one, if he would get his head out
of his arse.

�� No, Potter
would never be an expert brewer. But Draco didn�t speak only to other Potions
masters. He did, though, have a need in his life for someone who would be
unlike him and yet close that his spies and friends and occasional lovers
couldn�t fulfill.

�� It was
stupid to try to fulfill the need now, at this time. Draco could acknowledge
that. But he didn�t think Potter was the type to spread the news about, when he
was so intent on keeping his sexuality secret. So it was the safest stupid risk
of Draco�s life, because at least he could be an idiot in private.

�� He hated,
at the moment, the idea that he might sit back in his wise silence and let a
good chance pass by more than he hated the idea of being rejected.

�� But you��
Potter said, and lowered his eyes. �I couldn�t do that every time. I don�t need that every time.�

�� Neither do
I,� Draco responded instantly. It was true; though it had been wonderful, he
could make love in other positions, in other ways. His own experience revealed
that. �But don�t you want to see what we could desire, as well as need?�

�� Potter
swallowed and linked his hands together in front of his stomach, staring at
them. Draco had no idea what they told him.

�� I�m starting
to accept these desires,� Potter said at last, the words sounding as if they
were slicing his throat as he spoke them. �That doesn�t mean that I could have
a regular lover based on them.�

�� You don�t
know that it means that, either,�
Draco said, and then realized that the words probably didn�t say what he had wanted
them to say. He hurried on before Potter could recover from that and use the
weapon against him. �I mean�why did you walk out of the room the instant we
were done?�

�� I always
do,� Potter said. He gave Draco a quick, wondering glance. �I understand why
better now that I understand myself better, of course, but that doesn�t change
things. I don�t want to spend time with someone who had to do that for me,
either because of money or reluctantly. My Muggle lover who did it was
uncomfortable because it was too extreme.�

�� I wasn�t
uncomfortable,� Draco said, and waited.

�� Potter let
his nostrils flare open. �I was.�

�� Uncomfortable
enough not to do it with me again?� Draco took another risk, because he was so
far along a strange and winding road that there seemed no reason not to do so.
�I must admit, it would serve to settle and soothe and clarify my mind. Among
other things, I�ve made no progress on the riddle with Weasley and Granger. The
key doesn�t seem to be in the Ravenclaw common room, and that�s all we know.�

�� I�I hadn�t
thought ahead that far,� Potter said. �I hadn�t thought beyond the apology that
I meant to make to Ron and Hermione.�

�� There would be reasons for him not to do so,
Draco thought. He�s new to this life
where he actually questions and criticizes and tries to understand his own
actions, and he would be wary of thinking about the future.

�� That was no
reason, of course, that Potter had to go without a lover. Indeed, perhaps he
could use someone whose subtle guidance�not always as firm as it had to be in
the bedroom�could help him ask questions and bear the answers in the other
areas of his life.

�� And what
would Draco get out of the arrangement?

�� Draco had
to smile at that. Great fucking and the
sheer intensity I felt with him is a good place to start.

�� I suggest
you go further,� he said, being careful not to phrase it as an order. Potter
was more complex than some of the people Draco had heard about who needed
someone to step in and claim control of every aspect of their lives. He had
learned that yesterday when he had tried to command Potter with simple hard
touches, and he prided himself on never needing the same lesson twice. �Think
about solving the riddles in my company, and theirs. That�s not such a hard
task for a beginning, is it?�

�� Harder
than you know,� Potter whispered. �I�m simultaneously ashamed and not of what I
said to them. I don�t know what I should apologize for, exactly, and what I
should stand firm on, except for one or two things.�

�� Tell me,�
Draco whispered back. �Let me help you.�

�� Potter�s
eyes came up to him, wide and startled. Draco could see why, too; Potter
thought Draco was likely to ask to fuck him, not help him. But this was part of
the risk, part of the arrangement that Draco could see them coming to if
everything worked out the way he sincerely hoped it would. So, instead of
withdrawing, he raised his eyebrows and let Potter come to his own conclusions
about where Draco would stand.

*

�� Harry could
hardly believe that he was on the brink of making one of the most important
decisions of his life in an alley in Hogsmeade. But then again, he had made a
lot of important decisions in an upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks last
night and this morning. That didn�t mean he had to go on putting things off.

�� At the same
time, it was terrifying to lean on Malfoy. In a bedroom with his anger eating
him alive otherwise, sure. Here?

�� Harry
reminded himself, carefully, that there was no reason he couldn�t back out if
it didn�t work. That was one thing he had learned recently, too: that he didn�t
have to make one decision and stay with it forever and ever. He could think
about forgiving Ron and Hermione. He could think about trusting Malfoy, and
working with him to solve the riddles and keep Hogwarts free of Ministry
influence.

�� Maybe. I still don�t see how that could be
done.

�� But that
was no reason not to take up Malfoy�s offer for the other things�always
assuming that he could really trust Malfoy. He could use a voice that wasn�t
his own to offer him advice, at least.

�� All
right,� Harry said, slowly, with difficulty, and met Malfoy�s eyes. �I know I
should stand firm on refusing to have treatment for this. I did try that,
talking with Mind-Healers and with Hermione. It didn�t work. I don�t want them
to persuade me to �visit� someone about this or make it a price of having their
friendship back. If they don�t want me on my own terms, without a Mind-Healer�s
name, then I�ll walk.�

�� Malfoy gave
him a soft, pleased smile, and Harry felt as though someone had touched him
gently in the region of his back where Malfoy had kept his hand when they
walked away from Covington and Ron and Hermione at the lake the other day. He
frowned. That could be dangerous, if his
approval affects me so much.

�� Seemingly
oblivious to what he was feeling, Malfoy continued, �And what else will you
stand firm on?�

�� Harry
lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. �I don�t know. Other than that I don�t
want them to talk more about how my sexuality is pathological. That�s all I can
think of.�

�� That�s a
good list,� Malfoy said. �May I also suggest that you tell them you�ll work out
whatever issues they may think you have with the help of people other than
Mind-Healers? If you had friends that you thought you could speak to honestly about these things, without
criticism, then it would go a long way towards helping you. They could be those
friends, if only they could keep unhelpful opinions to themselves.� He paused,
his eyes brightening. �And, of course, having a regular lover would help, too.�

�� Harry gave
his head a little nervous toss that he couldn�t help. �If it gets that far,� he
muttered.

�� I should
say that it would be more unlikely
not to get that far,� Malfoy murmured, but didn�t explain what he meant when
Harry gave him a challenging stare. �Tell them that. Will you let me come with
you?�

�� A
suggestion, a question. Not an order. Harry studied Malfoy in detail as he
stood there, leaning elegantly against the wall�of course he did even that
elegantly�and tried to understand him.

�� Malfoy only
gave him that lovely smile and said nothing. Harry had to admit that he
probably wouldn�t understand him without extensive experience, which of course
he wouldn�t acquire without spending time with Malfoy.

�� The kind of time that regular lovers might
spend together?

�� Harry
refused to decide that right now. He nodded to Malfoy and said, �I want you to
come with me. Please do so.�

�� Malfoy
immediately stepped up to him, before Harry could consider whether or not he
would or whether or not he wanted the git to, and touched his lips swiftly to
Harry�s. Harry didn�t have time to react to the kiss before Malfoy whispered,
�I hoped that you would say that,� and cupped the edge of his jaw with
tentative fingers.

�� Harry had
to make another decision in the next few moments, and he hoped that he made the
right one. He stuck out his tongue to lap lightly at Malfoy�s fingers, waited
until he heard the man catch his breath, and then nodded.

*

�� Malfoy!�
Granger was rising to her feet the moment the door to her and Weasley�s quarters
opened, her eyes wide. �We didn�t know where you had gone. We were afraid that
Covington had�Harry.�

�� The change
was visible at once, Draco saw. Her eyes had been wide for him, but they were
enormous for �Harry.� They quivered at the edges, and she reached out a hand
and then abruptly tucked it behind her back as if fearing he would spurn it.
She licked her lips and stared at him with an intensity that would have made
Draco�and, he thought, most other sane people�back off.

�� But Potter
had never been sane�luckily for Draco, or he probably wouldn�t have considered
spending time with someone who had fucked him once. He gave an uncomfortable
smile and muttered, �Hermione. Ron.�

�� Weasley was
on his feet, and he looked as if he didn�t know where to touch Potter or not.
�You have a lot of nerve, coming here,� he said.

�� After you
acted as though you wanted to reconcile with me?� Potter�s smile was twisted,
and he leaned against the doorframe as if he were doing it to irritate his
friends now. �Perhaps I should have listened to my instincts instead of my
conscience after all.�

�� He just means
that we didn�t expect to see you in our rooms, after we failed to convince you
in Malfoy�s, where you spend a lot of time,� Granger said dismissively. Draco
wondered why Weasley nodded as if the explanation made sense. Even stranger,
Potter returned a small nod of his own, and then stepped forwards to stand in
front of her.

�� First
things first,� Potter said. �We all said some wrong things. We can argue for
years about what those were, exactly. But I�m not going to get �help� for the
issues that you think I have, except from friends I actually trust, and you can
give up that notion.�

�� Weasley and
Granger exchanged glances. Granger ground her teeth in what Draco thought was
genuine anguish. Well, it probably was when her whole identity depended on
being able to tell other people what to do. But in the end, she inclined her
head and murmured, �I agree.�

�� And me,
too,� Weasley said, when Potter switched his glare to him.

�� Potter gave
a short nod. �Good. I would prefer not to discuss it at all, but we�ll need to
do it if we�re going to resolve this argument.� He pulled a chair around from
in front of Granger and sat down on it, though he at least turned it so that he
was facing his friends over the back. Draco had the obscure sense that it would
have been wrong for him to sit comfortably and normally with his friends as if
nothing had ever happened. �Now. What did you feel I said and did that was most
wrong?�

�� Weasley and
Granger exchanged glances, which made Draco snort. This was the kind of topic
that they would have discussed extensively among themselves beforehand. Draco
knew them. They were the kind who lay awake at night spinning elaborate dreams
and dramas about what would happen if their friend returned to them. Weasley
and Granger were probably only surprised that their fantasy had so suddenly
been transported into the real world, rather than shocked that it had happened.

�� Insulting
me,� Granger said finally. �Implying that I was�abnormal. Using information
that I trusted you with against me.�

�� Draco
raised his eyebrow. He had wondered for the barest moment whether he should
leave them alone, but this was too interesting to miss. He hoped that no one
would remember that he was here and make him leave. Granger and Weasley
probably wouldn�t want an audience to their little eccentricities, whatever
those were, but they were too focused on Potter to notice him right now.

�� Yes, that
was wrong of me,� Potter said, unflinching, dry-eyed. Draco thought he was the
only one who noticed the way Potter�s fingers dug into the wood on the back of
his chair. Weasley and Granger would be paying too much attention to his face.
�I shouldn�t have turned on you even when you turned on me.�

�� I never
gave anyone details,� Granger said earnestly. �I only mentioned the problem in
a general way to Mind-Healers, and they agreed that someone who had been abused
the way you have should have found a healthier way to cope with it.�

�� Potter
audibly ground his back teeth together, and then seemed to accept that his
friends would have to talk about
Mind-Healers in the present discussion. �Fine. But I would say that it was
manipulation, Hermione, not abuse.�

�� Dumbledore
had no right to do that to you!�
Granger leaned forwards as though straining to break out of the chair against
chains, and Weasley nodded his support and put a hand on her shoulder. �It
doesn�t matter if his plans turned out well. He was perfectly willing to
sacrifice you, Harry! To let you die! Why do you keep acting as though what he
did was forgivable, or, or excusable?
You know that he would have let you die!�

�� There was
no other way, really,� Potter said, with a glance over his shoulder. He, at
least, hadn�t forgotten their audience. �I accepted that once I understood the
whole of it. I was angry, but the acceptance was more important.�

�� He was
powerful,� Weasley said, unexpectedly breaking into the conversation. �He was brilliant. He could have done something
else if he really wanted to.�

�� Potter gave
Weasley a piercing glance. �I know you understand everything, because I
explained it to you,� he said. �What else could he have done? Given the time he
died, and the things he didn�t know at the time? Could he have known that I would sacrifice myself, the
puling little boy that I was in sixth year? Or did he have to let my
convictions grow, taking intolerable risks all along the way?�

�� You�re my
friend,� Weasley whispered. �Any risk that wasn�t with your life would have
been fine with me.�

�� Potter
shook his head. Draco had to admit that he could see why his friends found him
irritating, with that wise dark smirk on his lips, but it was the simple truth
that Potter was wiser, as he proved
with his next words. �And you would have been prone to risking your family the
same way? And Hermione? And the world? And Hogwarts? And the future of any
children you might have?�

�� Weasley
bowed his head. Granger reached out and put her hand on his arm in reassurance
the way Draco had seen her do earlier, then turned to Potter. �It still wasn�t
fair that the whole burden should fall on you.�

�� Potter
rolled his eyes. �I�ll make sure to tell fate that next time.�

�� Granger
swelled up, but Potter sighed and gestured her to stand down before Draco make
the suggestion himself. �Sorry, Hermione. But no, it wasn�t fair. But there was
also nothing anyone could do about
it. Dumbledore�s portrait told me that, too, that he wished I could have lived
a normal life without Voldemort marking me, with my parents alive. I wish I
could have lived with your friendship the past two years. But that�s not what happened. We either have to put up
with that, or start expecting the universe to conform to our wishes. And we
know it doesn�t do that.� He leaned forwards, smiling at Granger as if inviting
her into some communion of enlightenment. �Don�t you?�

�� Granger
gave him a miserable look and nodded slowly. �You�ll go on doing what you�re
doing,� she said.

�� Draco
rolled his eyes in turn. It amazed him that all Granger�s joy in getting her
friend back seemed to be dimmed by the mere suspicion that he might continue letting someone else tie
him to the bed.

�� Yes,�
Potter said. �That�s not negotiable.�

�� But,�
Granger said, and then left the word there, hanging in the wind between them,
probably because she�d seen the look on Potter�s face.

�� This time,
Weasley was the one who leaned down and stroked her shoulder soothingly. �Leave
it,� he mouthed; Draco couldn�t hear a sound. �We�ll talk about it later.�

�� Draco
sneered. No, you won�t, not without me
beside him. It annoyed him that the Wonder Sidekicks could get what they
wanted, and still push for more. Of course, they would probably never be
satisfied until they had Potter locked in matrimony to the She-Weasel and the
father of seven little brats of his own.

�� Not that that will happen.

�� I am
sorry,� Potter said. �I don�t think I said that enough.� He hesitated, then
stood up and went forwards to embrace his friends. Granger whispered something
Draco couldn�t hear into his ear as she stroked his hair. Weasley clapped him
on the back and stood away, though Granger seemed content to hug him for much
longer than that.

�� We�ll
manage it,� Granger said when he finally let her go, wiping her tears from her
face with a sleeve. �We�ll come back together.�

�� Not exactly as you were, Draco thought,
and would have said, if not for the glow deep down in Potter�s eyes.

*

�� I can�t
believe that it�s taking you this long to solve the riddle,� Harry said,
shaking his head. �I can�t believe that you tried the Ravenclaw common room, of
all the obvious places.�

�� Obvious
places are sometimes the right ones,� Hermione said, in a voice he remembered.

�� Harry kept
his eyes on the parchment that held the text of the riddle and tried to resist
the warmth that crowded through him. He didn�t know if he was in the right
place to appreciate it yet. He didn�t know if he should count his friendship
with Ron and Hermione as having been restored yet. He didn�t think he�d
suffered enough. What he had done but walk up, offer a few apologies and a few
hugs, and then have them argue with him again a bit more before they got back
to working on the riddle?

�� But maybe it doesn�t have to be all
suffering.

�� Malfoy
shifted beside him, and Harry shifted away before he thought about it. Then he
took a deep breath and moved back. Malfoy had probably planted himself at
Harry�s side on purpose so that any movement he made would be echoed in Harry�s
body, but that didn�t mean Harry had to resent him.

�� Though he
thought Malfoy was trying to say that he deserved to be part of Harry�s life,
too, and deserved to have as much of his attention as Ron and Hermione.

�� I can�t, not right now, Harry thought,
his eyes going to Ron. Ron still watched him with hope, and sometimes with
puzzlement, as though he liked the sight of Harry standing there but didn�t
know how it had happened. Harry wasn�t sure himself, for that matter. It�s not right yet. They need a lot more
attention until it�s put right.

�� Not this
time, since you�ve tried and it wasn�t,� Harry said. He stroked the parchment
and stepped back. �I think we ought to think more about who made these riddles.
Snape and Dumbledore. What were they thinking about during that last year? What
was on their minds as being lost?�

�� It still
has to be something precious to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff,� Ron pointed out, an
anxious look on his face. Harry knew that meant he had almost forgotten the
fact himself a few times and meant to make sure that no one else did. Then Ron
paused abruptly and tilted his head. �Unless the note refers to someone else
named Rowena and someone else named Helga.�

�� It can�t,�
Malfoy interposed quietly. �I�ve already checked the student records for
Hogwarts during the years that Dumbledore was Headmaster. One student named
Rowena, who died when she was in her seventh year, and no Helga.�

�� Harry gave
him a single intense look that he intended to convey gratitude, though he
didn�t know if it did. Malfoy responded with a raised eyebrow and a burning
glance that made Harry clear his throat and glance down.

�� It could
be someone other than a Hogwarts student,� Ron said, dogged but not defeated.

�� I don�t
think so,� Hermione said. �It�s a good suggestion, Harry. What was on their
minds as being lost during the war? Hogwarts, of course. Freedom. Security.
Rights for Muggleborns.� Harry would have missed the quick look she cast at
Malfoy if he wasn�t watching. �What else?�

�� Something
precious to Ravenclaw, at the same time,� Ron said.

�� What fools
we�ve been,� Malfoy said softly.

�� Harry
turned to him. �What?� he asked. Malfoy was staring at the wall, and his
fingers were stroking the table where they had laid the text of the riddle. His
eyes were bright and at the same time heavy-lidded, as if he was waking up from
a deep sleep.

�� Of course
they were worried about what we might lose during the war,� Malfoy said. �Think
of the sacrifices that both Severus and Dumbledore made to keep me from killing
someone. It was what made Severus swear that poisonous Unbreakable Vow.� His eyes flared briefly, and Harry
found himself wondering what Malfoy really thought and felt about the events of
the year when he had been sixteen. It would be interesting to find out. �They
didn�t want me to sacrifice my soul. But you could phrase that in another way.
They didn�t want me to let the Dark Lord have dominion over the mind.�

�� And
Ravenclaw valued the mind,� Ron said, ending by punching one fist into the air.

�� But where
is the symbol of the minds that would have been lost?� Hermione asked.

�� And Harry
knew, the answer coming home to him like a blow. He turned and met Malfoy�s
eyes. Malfoy bowed his head in a shallow nod, leaving the speaking up to Harry.

�� The Slytherin common room,� Harry said
softly.

*

�� Draco
leaned back against the door of the Slytherin common room and tried not to
think about the last moments he had spent here, all those years ago. Of course
he couldn�t help feeling some of the same sensations�his heart pounding beneath
his ribs, his chest aching with every breath he drew, and his shoulders
rippling and flexing as if he would heave himself out the door and run at any
moment�but he could control them. The memories were still out of his head.
Indeed, his mind felt perfectly blank.

�� Potter
paused beside him and gave him a single sharp glance. �Are you all right?� he
mouthed.

�� Draco
nodded and stared back until Potter shrugged and stepped up to join his
friends. Then Draco clasped his hands together and squeezed, watching in
academic interest as his skin strained. He had not expected a panic attack like
this, and he was not sure how to handle it. Why would coming back to the
Slytherin common room affect him so, when a visit to the school hadn�t?

�� But he
thought he knew when he could risk a glance at the mantle and the couches and
the single window nearby. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were standing together
in the middle of the room and discussing something in low voices. They didn�t
pay attention to him, or to the way that his eyes had fixed on one couch in
particular.

�� He�d sat
there and thought about what would happen to him when he left the walls of the
school, to live in a changed world.

�� His parents
were in disgrace. He was in disgrace.
He was desperately glad the Dark Lord hadn�t won, but that was a feeling of
small comfort, really, when he thought about his own personal life. Yes, the
Gryffindors had won and everyone else would live in harmony. But his future was
no longer assured.

�� He had got
past that moment. He had heaved himself to his feet and decided that he would
study for a Potions mastery. And no one would get in the way, especially
because he had Severus�s training behind him, and there would be no other
student coming into the Potions program who would have the same advantage. He
could do well there, for himself. And he had.

�� But now he
was back in the same place, in the presence of the past, in the presence of the
ghost who had made that decision.

�� Draco bowed
his head and clenched his teeth down on the inside of his cheek until he could
taste copper. He licked his lips and surged forwards to join Potter again. He
could get past this, yes. He could.
He would.

�� He would be
of some use to solving this riddle the same way that he had been of some use to
himself in the years since he had made his decision.

�� All
right,� Potter was saying. �So what does Hufflepuff value that could have a
place here?� He turned around and surveyed the room thoughtfully. �It has to be
something that has a fairly concrete existence. After all, Snape and Dumbledore
couldn�t count on it being a small object that someone could remove easily, or
a quality to the room that only a Slytherin student could be familiar with.
They didn�t know that they would pick a Slytherin to solve the riddles.�

�� Severus
would have insisted on it,� Draco thought to say. The air seemed to clamp his mouth
shut, and he touched his neck and cleared his throat a few times. Weasley and
Granger both ignored him, but once again, he got a sharp glance from Potter.

�� Maybe, but
that doesn�t mean that he could have depended
on it,� Granger said. �So, yes, Harry, I agree. It has to be an object.
That doesn�t make it any easier to find,
though.� She raked her fringe back from her forehead, or perhaps only some hair
that was hanging in her eyes�Draco hadn�t paid enough attention to her before
this to tell how her hair was styled�and sighed. �What could it be?�

�� Draco
raised his head and turned it, trying to look at the room with unseeing eyes,
the same way that any stranger would. But Weasley was doing the same thing, and
having no luck. Perhaps it needed the eye of a friend after all. Draco cleared
his throat again and sharpened his gaze.

�� The couches
were too temporary. The walls were a possibility, in that they were as
inflexible as the loyalty that Hufflepuff would have valued, but Draco didn�t
fancy their chances of moving along them, tapping and searching, and trying to
find the right combination of spells or taps by sheer luck. The floor was also
a possibility, but Draco didn�t think they could dig into it without releasing
water, something Severus would have taken account of.

�� Then his
gaze fastened in one place, and he smiled without humor.

�� Ravenclaw
valued the mind, we decided,� he said. �Hufflepuff could be said to value a
certain part of the body, too�the heart.� He let his finger stick out ahead of
him and narrowed his vision down it, hoping that it wouldn�t become tunnel
vision and he wouldn�t fall over.

�� The hearth.

�� Potter
raised his eyebrows and then nodded slowly. �We haven�t gone close enough to be
a threat yet,� he said, drawing his wand. �There could be a trap waiting there
that will trigger and involve us in this fight to the death.�

�� Wait a minute,� Granger said, her voice
rising. �I didn�t hear you say anything about that. What trap? What fight to
the death?�

�� Dumbledore
and Snape protected the riddles and the keywords with various guardians,�
Potter said. His body was dropping into a hunting crouch, his eyes aimed
straight ahead. Draco had never seen him look as intense, except inside the
bedroom, and now he had to be almost grateful for the surge of feeling and
memory that raced through him and drowned the other, inappropriate surge of old
panic. �Water-snakes in the lake. A centaur with arrows that called your
darkness to the surface in the Forest. That was what finally gave me the
courage to come to you,� he added, with a smile over his shoulder at Granger.
�I had to think about everything I�d been trying to put aside.�

�� Oh,�
Granger said softly, and stared at the floor. Again Weasley put the comforting
hand on her shoulder, and Draco knew what she was thinking as plainly as if she
had said it. I thought you had come back
on your own.

�� Draco
rolled his eyes. It appeared that it didn�t matter how much Granger received,
including gifts that she�d had no reason to think she would get. She still
wanted more�wanted them given more willingly, or more generously, or in
different proportions. Draco made a mental note to never get her a gift.

�� Not that I need spend time around her once
this is over.

�� And then he
remembered his promise to Potter, or Potter�s promise to him, and sighed in
vexation. He drew his wand, redirecting his attention back to the hearth. An
enemy he could fight was looking better all the time.

�� Stay back,
Ron, Hermione,� Potter said, his eyes wide with excitement. �We don�t know what
might come out of there.� He glanced back once, seemed astonished to find that
Draco wasn�t at his side, and motioned him up to join in with one impatient
hand.

�� Draco had
never felt as tempted to chuckle in his life as he did when joining Potter. But
he managed to hold it inside. The fixed expression on Granger�s face and the
startled blinks from Weasley were perfect without his laughter.

�� Ready?�
Potter murmured. �It�s probably going to come straight from the center of��

�� The center
of the hearth, of course, because that�s the place where the fire blazes and
the heart of the common room is,� Draco finished, nodding his head, astonished
himself by how easy it was to fall into communion with Potter.

�� Potter
smiled at him and then lashed forwards with one arm, casting a spell out in
front of him like that looked like a red fishing wire. Draco watched with
critical eyes as it vanished into the spot in the stone where he remembered the
great logs gathering. He wondered how Potter had known that, but then, the
Gryffindor and Slytherin fireplaces might not be as different from each other
as other aspects of the rooms were.

�� For a few
seconds, silence hovered between them, or so it seemed. In reality, Draco could
hear the harsh breathing of Granger and Weasley behind him, and the taut hum of
magic through Potter�s wand, but he and Potter stood together in a bubble of
silence nevertheless.

�� And then
the stone wall at the back of the fireplace exploded inwards, and Potter turned
and dipped a shoulder, seeming to catch the line of magic that spiraled back
towards him and draw it into a spool.

�� Draco�s
eyes couldn�t make sense of the beast that reared towards them at first, made
of dazzling shadows and edges and eyes of flame, and then he recognized it and
felt foolish. A dragon. Of course. What
else would you expect to come out of the fire?

�� The dragon
was smaller than any he had seen, heavier, its body looking as it if was made
of carved stone. It landed on the floor with a thump and stared at them, neck
swaying back and forth. The impression of being made of shadow and light, Draco
saw, had come from its eyes and wings, both of which were illuminated from
within by deep reds and golds, cooler greens and silvers.

�� Does that
resemble a real dragon in your eyes?� Potter murmured, taking a step back so
that he was precisely beside Draco and could murmur into his ear more easily.

�� Draco shook
his head. �Those scales are stone, though,� he said. �They�re going to be as
hard as stone to get through, too.�

�� I knew
that,� Potter said.

�� Draco
didn�t think it worth commenting on again, if that was the mood Potter wanted
to be in. He lifted his wand and called a spell to mind that made the end of it
fizz and spark. The dragon locked its eyes on them and flexed its claws in the
floor, which resulted in long strips of stone ripping out and curling around
its talons.

�� For the
honor of Gryffindor House!� Weasley said, suddenly and loudly, and leaped past
both Draco and Potter at the dragon as if he had something to prove. Perhaps he just feels the need to impress
his wife, Draco thought, before his brain caught up to reality and he
realized that he couldn�t let this simply happen.

�� Weasley!� he bellowed, and leaped after
him. Potter was right next to him, his own cry wordless but so loud that Draco
was convinced�and comforted�that they both felt the same thing.

�� The dragon
jerked its head back and breathed on Weasley when he landed in front of it. The
flames danced like ordinary fire when they first came into the air, but then
locked into tangled, thorny curls of rock around Weasley�s legs. He crashed to
the ground, still managing to fire off a spell that the dragon danced easily
away from. And then he groaned, and his face turned pale. At the same time,
Draco heard the dry snap that he knew usually signaled a limb breaking.

�� Trust Weasley to land in exactly the right
way for that, Draco thought. The only good thing was that the git had shown
them what the dragon�s fire could do, and Draco was no longer inclined to
underestimate it.

�� Potter
circled around to the side, eyes narrowed and brilliant, like the gemstones
that the dragon�s wings resembled. He tried a spell that crackled out like
lightning and seemed to have much the same effect, at least if the scorch mark
on the dragon�s side was any indication. The dragon roared and spat another
curl of flame. Potter lifted a Shield Charm, which blocked the fire, and then
the pebble that the fire became, as it would have blocked any ordinary spell.

�� A second useful thing to know, Draco
decided, and then launched the Dark Arts spell burning on his tongue, because
getting in trouble with the Ministry through Granger�s good offices was the
last thing he could worry about right now.

�� Torno!�

�� The dragon
began abruptly to turn in a circle, its head flowing over its back, its wings
tangling around its body. Draco grinned. �Focus on spells that aren�t meant to
harm the skin!� he yelled over his shoulder at Potter. �They work just fine!�

�� Potter
nodded and did something nonverbal that made the dragon lose contact with the
floor. It twisted in the air, still caught in the torturing force of Draco�s
spell, but also turned upside-down and flailed and jerked and tried to fly and
spat its fire and in general made a fool of itself. Potter stepped back and
gestured with his wand in a flourish to Draco, all too clearly indicating what
he wanted: to see Draco take a turn.

�� Draco did,
choosing a spell that, most of the time, would break the bones in a specific
part of a victim�s body. This didn�t do the same thing�of course not, since the
dragon had no bones�but it did crack loose a large part of the stone carapace
on the head. That clanged to the floor and left a missing chunk in the neck,
which bled a dark, oily liquid like heavy smoke.

�� Potter took
it up again, and this time managed a spell that popped the dragon�s jewel-like
eyes out. They rolled on the floor, and Draco heard a cry of disgust from
behind him. It could have been Weasley or Granger or both at once.

�� He didn�t
turn to look. What mattered was the peculiar joy thrumming through him and the
laughter that bubbled out of his mouth when he listened�the laughter and the
joy that came from the chance of working together with Potter.

�� As an
experiment, he tried a spell that was supposed to press and preserve
butterflies for Potions ingredients. The dragon tumbled over and over, writhing
in what Draco would have said was pain if he didn�t know better, and then its
wings flew out to the side. For a moment, they hovered in the air like the
panes of stained glass windows. Then they crashed to the floor and became dust
and powder, much the way that crushed insect wings would.

�� Potter was
next, and he detached the dragon�s feet and turned them into useless ornaments.

�� Draco
sheared its head off its body, and it continued spluttering and spitting fire
from the broken neck for some moments before the strange life left it. It was
only a statue now, and Draco lowered it back to the ground and shook his head,
panting. Sweat soaked his forehead and tingled under his arms, and he felt far
more exhausted than he would have thought he could from a bit of minor
sparring. Perhaps this was the way that Aurors felt all the time.

�� He turned
to the side, and Potter was there, eyes as large as moons, teeth bared in a
smile as brilliant as the scowl he�d worn earlier.

�� That was wonderful,� he said, and clapped Draco
on the shoulder the way that he might have his best mate Weasley. �Well done.�

�� Draco
reached out and caught the hand, pressing down on the wrist bone the way he had
the other day when he�d wanted to draw Potter�s attention. He wasn�t a best
mate, no matter what Potter might think at the moment and no matter how many
battles they fought together, and he wouldn�t be treated like one.

�� Potter�s
eyes widened, then drooped almost shut. He nodded as though catching the silent
message Draco gave, and stooped nearer.

�� Later,� he
whispered. �We have to find the riddle and the keyword first.� And he turned
away and took a step to the side, with the clear expectation that Draco would
let him go.

�� Draco did,
because he had no choice. But he kept his eyes on him, and he didn�t think it
was his imagination that Potter began to search the hearth with his back always
oriented on Draco, knowing where he was and what happened when he changed his
position.

�� A little
help here, please?�

�� Draco
started and whirled around. Granger was trying to wrestle her husband back to
his feet and out of the stone coils of the dragon�s frozen flame, and looking
exasperated and hurt at the same time, as if she thought that Potter should
have hurried over to help her. Draco shook his head a bit and stepped up.

�� That leg
is broken,� he said, studying Weasley�s right limb with an eye that had a bit
of Healer�s experience. His regular clients tended to come to him before they
went to St. Mungo�s, trusting him to spot what was wrong more easily. �We
should move him up to the hospital wing.�

�� Yes, of
course we should,� Granger said, and conjured a stretcher. She kept shooting
little betrayed looks at Potter, though, who was on his knees and rooting among
the ashes, and Draco wondered how much longer it would be before they heard about
it.

�� Found it!�
Potter turned around, a large globe that looked like glass but couldn�t be
cupped in his palms. Squinting, Draco could make out two small pieces of
parchment tied together in what looked like a ball inside it.

�� Good,�
Granger said. �Then you can help us get Ron to the hospital wing.�

�� Potter�s
face was full of chagrin at once. He cast the globe at Draco and dashed over to
his best friend, muttering something that might have been an apology.

�� Draco
didn�t care about that. What he cared about was that, when he reached out and
pressed his hand hard enough into Potter�s arm to leave red fingermarks, Potter
pressed back.

*

�� JtheChosen1:
Thanks!

�� Thrnbrooke:
Thanks for reviewing.

�� Shadow
Lily: Thanks! Good luck with this riddle.

�� KillingProphet:
I don�t think Harry came exactly to the realization you asked for, but he does
think that �strangeness� is a part of him, even if he still doesn�t think it�s
normal.

�� W�lkchen:
Well, Dumbledore was brilliant�

�� Harry was
upset because he had thought he would be good for a few months, and then it
turned out he wouldn�t. Anything that throws him off and makes him require the
sex more often than he thinks he �should� have it upsets him.

�� Anonanon:
Thank you!

�� purple-er: Well,
maybe more stories should have Draco wanting to embarrass Snape.

�� Night the
Storyteller: Yes, it�s really more pathological in Hermione�s version of
events, but she managed to convince Harry.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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