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Ethereal Desire	By : Etherea Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Ethereal Desire

Author: Etherea.

Rating: T � PG-13 (Slight
Sexual connotations and Foul Language; nothing unbearable� I hope.)

Disclaimer: I certainly
don�t own anything related to the Harry Potter Universe. I humbly bow before
the goddess who created it and marvel at her genius, hoping to not awake her
wrath at my pitiable attempts to do her creation justice with my amateur
stories. I do own the plot, though; but I hope it�s pretty superfluous of me to
say that I�m not making a Knut out of it. It�s just a
faithful fan�s work anyway, born out of the mere respect and awe for the
wonderful characters she has fashioned. So please, don�t sue.

Summary: AU. Post-Hogwarts. Draco is experiencing a
rare magical phenomenon: he�s being �visited� by his Other Part, but Animus Salutor means much more than that. His life in total shreds,
how will he react to the unthinkable consequences? A battle of wills ensues:
two sworn enemies being forced to discover and acknowledge a truth too
unbelievable, too absurd� and yet, too right.
H/G. Eventual H/D Slash.

Author Note: The
ever-present Author Note and Warning of every H/D fanfic
ever written� Yes, you got it: this is �or rather, will be- Slash. Don�t like
it, don�t read; as simple as that. If you feel upset, uncomfortable, disturbed,
shell-shocked, appalled, confused, outraged, or simply disgusted by this type
of reading, then you have another reason to hit the �Back� button right now. If
you still decide to carry on with your reading even knowing that this piece is
not your cup of tea (or coffee, or whatever you prefer) then be absolutely
certain that destructive or/and offensive flames won�t be tolerated; you�ve
been warned after all.

Author Note 2: *Dodges
rotten tomatoes thrown by irate readers* I�M SO, SO, SO SORRY FOR THE LATENESS
OF THIS CHAPTER!!!! I know my excuses will be completely pitiful to you, but
still, I never expected to take this long! Real life has taken some unexpected
turns lately (I might be moving to Toronto,
Canada soon)
and also the chapter became some sort of a monster. It grew a lot from my
original outline (go figure! o_0) to the point that I had to make it a two-part
instalment. The second part will be posted in a few days� I promise!!!

Again, I�m
really sorry for the long wait! You all have my unconditional love for all your
support and wonderful reviews! Love you all!

Anyway. On with Chapter 7, Part One,
then�

��

Ethereal Desire

Chapter Seven

The
Other Face of the Mirror

(Part
I)

A high-pitched,
unbelievably loud screech like that made by a campaigning Banshee crushed the
stillness of the small bedroom. Harry sat up in a flash, looking wildly around
for any signs of the disturbance, and thoroughly regretted the action when a
sudden bolt of pain ran through his head. Wincing at the maddening sound, he
finally recognized it as one of Ginny�s �Wake Up� spells. Groaning and muttering
not-too-kind expletives, he flicked his right hand; half a second later the
awful noise stopped abruptly, leaving thousands of tiny bells ringing in his
ears. The magical clock on his bedside table smartly informed him that it was �Time
to Wake Up�, which, knowing Ginny, meant that it
was too early still to be up; the redheaded girl had certainly inherited some
of her mother�s trademark habits.

The raven-haired
man swung his legs over the side of the bed, waiting for the world to stop
spinning around him. One would think the
bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World could hold his alcohol a little better,
he thought bitterly as he picked up his glasses from the nightstand and moved
on unsteady legs towards the bathroom. After taking care of his most pressing
needs and putting on a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, he walked through
the small living room into the adjacent kitchen, where a Ever-Hot pot of coffee
was waiting for him next to a folded piece of parchment with the words �Read
Me� written in Ginny�s flowery script on top of it. Harry picked up the note
and read:

I didn�t want to wake you when I left. Coffee has
Hangover Potion mixed in it. You should have known better! Here she had drawn one of those animated smiley faces she was so
fond of using; it was sticking its tongue out at him, and Harry�s lips turned
into a pathetic scowl at the sight of it.
Don�t forget dinner today at
seven; Mum wants to discuss some of the places we�ve been looking at. We�ll
talk then. Good luck today at work! P.S: Had a good time last night... A
pink kiss stamped on the paper was what she used for a signature, and the raven-haired
man stared at it for some time, unable to discern the maelstrom of feelings
taking place in his already upset stomach.

Holding back a moan
of misery, Harry grabbed the pot of coffee and poured himself a cupful. He had
been considering not taking any Hangover Potion, at least not for a few more
minutes, just so he could enjoy a head free of undesirable thoughts �never mind
the pounding headache- for a little bit longer; but it seemed that his caffeine
addiction was more compelling and the strong aroma coming from the steaming cup
too much of a temptation, for he ended up giving up on his petty whims and took
a sip of the hot, black liquid. Harry closed his eyes in pure bliss as he felt
the nearly-instantaneous effects of both the dark brew and the healing potion.

Early morning
sunlight entered freely through the windows, bathing the white walls of the
adjacent living room in bluish shades. Harry moved and sat on his cosy, red
leather sofa and propped his bare feet on the small coffee table, cup in hand.
The only other furniture around him were two second-hand, un-matching
armchairs, an old bookcase filled with pictures and Quidditch memorabilia, and
a small wall unit housing his TV set, stereo system, and DVD player. Harry
stared at his scarce possessions with an air of melancholy about him as he
sipped at his coffee, feeling his headache recede almost completely already.

His flat wasn�t
much in terms of luxury and space; in fact, the heating broke down constantly
and the traffic noise coming from the outside was unbearable at rush hours, but
it was his. His
place. Not a cupboard, not a spare room, not a shared dorm, but his own,
self-maintained, rented apartment. There might be a few cranky floor neighbours
that he tolerated out of sheer politeness and the concierge was absolutely a
meddlesome pain in the arse, granted, but that didn�t really bother him. It
wasn�t as if he hadn�t had to endure worse before. And he really was
comfortable here. Living in a Muggle district allowed him the little privacy he
could have being who he was -nosy neighbours put aside- and he didn�t really
need a steadfast heating system when he could very well cast a Warming Charm.
But apparently, his flat was too small, too cold, too bare; the building was
too old, it couldn�t be connected to the Floo Network as it simply didn�t have
any chimneys, and the location was just �wrong�, as Mrs. Weasley was always so
keen to remind him: there were no parks, no schools, no sites of interest in
the near vicinity except for the few bars and commodity shops on his block. In
short, his little haven was, plainly put, a bachelor creeb, and was in no way
suited for a young married couple, not to mention a family home�

�Bloody Hell,�
he swore quietly, his face grim as he looked into the black depths of his mug. A
few seconds passed by and it still hadn�t revealed any answers, nor had it
magically erased everything that had transpired yesterday. Perhaps he was
simply asking for too much, as always.

People use to say
that everything is brighter in the morning; that things don�t seem as
impossible with the arrival of a new day, when one�s head is clear and open.
Harry knew by experience that that was pure rubbish. When the new day comes, the
initial shock has faded; therefore, one is able to realise exactly how fucked up things are. That doesn�t make
them any easier. That only makes them more real and inevitable. That only makes
it imperative for you to move and deliver.

At least in theory.

Harry sighed in
the solitude of his living room, staring at one of the magical pictures �one of
him and Ginny at the Burrow- sitting on the bookcase. He honestly didn�t know
what to do this time. It wasn�t as if he could show up in his shiny Auror
robes, throw a couple of hexes here and there, and he had saved the day again.
That was what he was trained to do; that�s how he knew how to handle �tough�
situations; but this was not the kind of circumstances he was used to deal
with, and Harry had to admit it to himself: he was way over his head. He felt
as if he had stepped into one of those Salvador Dali�s paintings Hermione loved
so much.

The irony of it
all was so unfathomable Harry thought it might just choke him. Marriage. Family. Children. Home. Bond. Funny how
those five little words are so seemingly, so easily interconnected. They belong
together; they complement each other, as if they�d been conceived from the same
concept, sprung from the same source. Love, isn�t it? They have worked together
for generations and generations of human evolution, as if part of some
universal order, some carefully-balanced equation. Then why, for Merlin�s
beard, did it always seem that, when it came down to him, not even the most
simple, basic rules applied? Why did everything have to turn into a big,
twisted mess with Harry Potter?

To be completely
honest, he wasn�t even sure if he believed in Love� at least in the everlasting,
unconditional type, which in itself was another irony altogether. His mother
had died for him because she loved him; it was her Love which had protected him
from the most evil of forces and yet, Harry had never had the chance to be
truly touched by it, to experience
it; he had been merely a baby when that same Love wrenched his chances away.
Growing up, Love remained a mysterious matter, as well; the Dursleys might have
taught him many things about life and people, but �Love� was certainly not in
the syllabus. His friends loved him dearly, and yes, he believed he loved them
back. They cared for each other and were always there whenever the other needed
them, but would they jump in front of the Killing Curse for him without
hesitation, without a second thought, as his mother had? What is more, would he, really?

Was it unbelievably
selfish of him to be even pondering that?

Ginny always
said he loved him, and he supposed �no, scratch that; he knew it was true, for she had proved it in many ways. She had
waited for him, she had understood him when the moment came; she had given him
all her support, always. But
there were times when these hideous doubts would sneak into his head and
whisper to him that she would have never looked at him twice if he weren�t Harry Potter. It felt awful to question her feelings like that, but
sometimes he couldn�t help it; he was only human �Colin Creevey�s beliefs notwithstanding. Nevertheless,
would she love him the same if he were an ordinary lad; if he weren�t the great
promise everybody said, thought he was? Did she love Harry Potter, the man, or was she in love with Harry
Potter, the myth? Of course, she had had all the time in the world to get to
know who he truly was beyond all that crap The
Prophet and Witch Weekly kept
printing on their front pages, but Harry had learned the hard way that not even
his closest friends were impervious to confuse the two...

Maybe that was
the reason why he could never tell Ginny he loved her while looking her in the
eye. How could he, when he wasn�t even sure he knew what it really feels to love or to be loved? Perhaps he
just didn�t really love her like he should. Perhaps he was just letting himself
be caught up in the circumstances. Perhaps he was so desperate to know what
Love is that he was willing to bargain any kind of affection so he could at
least have a glimpse of the real thing.

Was he a bad
person for that?

No, he wasn�t. It wasn�t his fault that he
had become an orphan at fifteen months of age. It wasn�t his fault that he had
grown up with relatives who despised him and reminded him what a disgrace he
was every single day. It wasn�t his fault that the first real hug he had ever
gotten had come from his best friend�s mother, just as it wasn�t his fault that
he had been welcomed into their family, that he was cherished and cared for as
one of their own. And it surely wasn�t his fault if he was reluctant to let
that go, lest he wouldn�t be able to find it anywhere else...

Oh, what in Merlin�s
name was he thinking!? Of course he
loved Ginny! He was very happy with her and did want to marry her! Why the hell
did he propose, then, if he wasn�t sure about their feelings for each other; if
he doubted that she was the one for him? It was this� bond talking; that was it! It was confusing him and making him think
about things he had never thought about �or felt,
for that matter- before! He would not have any
of it, especially not now, when his
life was finally starting to make some sense! He deserved happiness! He deserved
some stability in his life! It was about time that he got off the rollercoaster
ride for once and for all!

Placing his
half-emptied cup on the table a bit too harshly, Harry leaned back on the couch
and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He couldn�t allow the situation �however
unbelievable and dreadful as it might be- to throw him off-centre. He destroyed
a bloody Dark Lord when he was seventeen years old; surely he could deal with
this? He just had to be rational. He just had to focus on the problem at hand
and think. Nothing happens for no reason; everything has
a logical explanation, no matter how unlikely. He just had to figure out what
it was he was missing so he could come up with a feasible solution.

�Ok, Harry,� he
breathed. �Focus now. What do
you know about bonds?�

He pressed hard
at his temples as he closed his eyes and concentrated. The memory came to his
mind as soon as he summoned it. Charms Class, Sixth Year. It had been very cold
that day, being the end of winter. Ron had been complaining about his runny
nose the whole morning and Hermione had fussed about him not taking the Tylenol
tabs she had offered him for his cold. The class had been somewhat boring as it
had been just theory; they hadn�t been allowed to attempt the Bonding Charms on
each other. Harry could almost see old Professor Flitwick in front of him,
standing on a pile of dusty books, going on and on about the significance of
Bonding Magic...

There are two major types of Bonding Charms, and each
one has several variations, depending on the level of commitment the witch or
wizard is aiming for, Flitwick had said. The first one, which happens to be the most common,
is the Magical Oath �or Wizards Oath, as most people call it. It�s a magical
contract, which may be pledged to others or to oneself. One swears to uphold
the clauses specified in the Oath, and depending on which type of oath one is
agreeing to, failing to comply with its specifications may incur on temporal or
life-long cursing and, in some cases, immediate death. Some examples of Magical
Oaths are the Unbreakable Vow and some forms of Fidelius.

The second type is the Magical Mark, Flitwick had continued after a
brief interruption caused by one of Hermione�s questions; Harry remembered that
his �and most of the class�, really- curiosity had peaked considerably by that
point. This
Bonding Charm is one of the most elaborated and customizable of the two. The
parties swear an oath, very much like a Magical Oath, but there�s also the
stamping of a special symbol on a place of choice on their bodies as a tangible
reminder of their agreement. This mark creates a magical link �a �bond�-
between the partners that cannot be broken unless the contract is terminated,
which is, more often than not, by death. In ancient times, the Magical Mark was
used between spouses to seal their wedding vows. However, few wizards and witches
perform this charm as part of their nuptial ceremonies nowadays, prefering the
subtler, less permanent wedding band as a symbol of their union. People had laughed then -Harry
hadn�t been able to- as Professor Flitwick gave them one of his
mildly-reproving frowns. Nevertheless, it doesn�t mean it�s not still being used. The Magical Mark can take many forms and adapt to
many, many purposes. It�s a very powerful, very delicate type of Bonding Charm,
and like any Charm, must not be taken lightly. That
particular comment had brought about a deep, nervous silence from the class,
and Harry had been quite aware of the not-so-subtle stares he was receiving
from his fellow classmates.

However, there
is a different kind of Bonding Magic; one that is completely independent of control
or intent, and which, unfortunately, has fallen prey to a lot of speculation and
superstition, the professor had continued in his usual light-hearted way,
which always helped defuse a charged atmosphere. The Natural Bond is
different from the rest simply because it is, as its name infers, created �naturally�
between the parties under very specific, very special circumstances. It�s not
the result of any incantation or ritual, and therefore, its properties may vary
significantly with any given case, as there are not two Natural Bonds alike. As
for these special circumstances in which a Natural Bond may be formed
�for, as we already know, there is nothing definite with Magic- we can count,
for example, the relationship between a mother and her child or between twin
siblings. Also, there are records of Natural Bonds being formed due to a powerful
Life Debt. For generations, wizards have tried to reproduce the benefits of these
bonds but have been unsuccessful so far, as nobody really knows what makes two
independent souls bind so spontaneously, so intimately together, to the point
�in some cases- of relying entirely on each other for their survival�

Harry had felt somewhat unnerved by that last
statement. The infamous prophecy had been a constant weight in his mind back
then, and it hadn�t been few the times he wondered �and feared- how much of
themselves he and Voldemort truly shared. It wasn�t surprising, then, that he could
barely recall Hermione making another one of her comments; one that had
interested him for a reason, but he couldn�t tell what it was about now. Flitwick
had resumed the lesson shortly after, and Harry supposed he must have been
caught on his own thoughts �of darkness and evil madmen, no doubt- for he
couldn�t tell what else was said until the end of class. Gratefully, he had
been more focused during Auror Training, where they had run over the most basic
aspects of Magical Bonds, per se: some Magical Bonds create a psychic
link between the two partners, enabling them to sense each other�s emotions,
and even their thoughts in some cases; most Magical Bonds require constant
physical closeness; the most powerful Magical Bonds are nearly impossible to
break.

Right now, Harry knew just one thing:
whatever this bond between Malfoy and himself meant, it didn�t spurt over
night.

How truly perceptive
of you, Potter,
he thought sombrely, and his own inner voice sounded much more like Snape�s
than he was comfortable with.

�Oh, for fuck�s sake! This is pointless! I have a life,
damn it! If Voldemort and his minions couldn�t ruin it, this bond certainly
won�t! I have to get ready for work. Because I have a job
now. A real one. A normal
one. And a fianc�. I don�t have time for this
rubbish,� Harry added after a short pause, exasperated. He was very aware that
he was talking to himself, but he didn�t care what it could say about his
current state of mind; he didn�t have to be a genius to know he was not �okay� at
the moment. Who would be, under the circumstances? This was the most impossible
of impossible situations! How could he even begin to plan a course of action
when he didn�t even know how he had gotten himself into it in the first place? Who
could he turn to for help? Worse yet, how could he attempt to explain it to
somebody else when he himself didn�t understand it at all? If he had to choose,
the only person he would turn to about this would be Albus Dumbledore, but one,
it would be quite embarrassing for Harry to explain the most� significant
aspects of what he�d been experiencing to his old Mentor, and two, he
really didn�t want to find out what Dumbledore, being the batty wizard that he
was, would come up with for a solution; Merlin knew Albus sometimes
overestimated his own abilities, which was not denying the powerful wizard that
he was, but� Oh, shit! Did Albus know about the bond? It would be stupid
of Harry to think he didn�t� Fuck, fuck, fuck! Apart from himself, who else
had been able to pick on the bond�s vibe? What if the press found out about it?
It would be nothing short of Judgement Day arriving early; that much was for
certain�

Gods. This was, without doubt, the most
disheartening trail of thought to have at 7:30 in the morning, twelve hours
before facing his fianc� and her exuberant family to discuss their approaching wedding�s
details.

Harry picked up his half-forgotten cup of coffee,
feeling cantankerous and frustrated beyond belief, and was about to take one
last sip of the cooling beverage �his head completely clear by now� most regrettably-
when his eyes fell on another one of the moving pictures on his bookcase. It was
a picture of Hermione and himself, standing under their favourite tree by the
lake on Hogwarts grounds. It had been taken during their Seventh Year, before
Hogwarts was closed. Harry couldn�t tell how many times he had looked at that
photograph, so he was very familiar with the smiling faces and the enthusiastic
waving being performed by their pictured selves. This time, however, there was
a person in the background, half-hidden by some trees near the frame, Harry was
quite sure hadn�t been there before. He deposited the mug on the table once
more, stood up, and moved towards the bookcase.

�You�ve got to be kidding me,� he breathed,
utterly dismayed, when he picked up the magical photograph.

Draco Malfoy was leaning against one of the
trees behind him and Hermione, apparently reading, but Harry noticed that he
would send furtive glances from time to time to where he and Hermione were
standing. Harry was about to touch the pictured Malfoy, mystified, when the
little blond realised that he was being watched and moved quickly to hide
behind the tree, completely out of sight.

�What is
happening between us, Draco? What have you done to me?� he muttered, staring at
the spot where the pictured Draco had just been. Harry waited a few moments to
see if the proud Slytherin would step out of his hiding place, and when it was
obvious that he wasn�t going to, the raven-haired man put the picture back
again in his place, brow knitted. He couldn�t believe what he had just witness.
Evidently, Malfoy had always been in the photograph; he just hadn�t let himself
be seen. Another irony if Harry ever knew one. He�d had a picture of Draco
Malfoy, the pivotal key in his current mess, for years now sitting on his bookcase, and he just found out about it today.

This was bordering
on fatuous.

The raven-haired
man shook his head, feeling a strange urge to laugh hysterically. Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy. The name sounded so
alien and yet so strangely familiar coming out of his mouth�

Harry couldn�t
remember the exact moment he realised he didn�t �hate� Draco anymore, but he
was sure it wasn�t yesterday. Somewhere between that last quarrel at the end of
fifth year and leaving Hogwarts to face the recently-saved, real world, all
that animosity he had felt towards the blond Slytherin had completely
disappeared. Lost its appeal; its relevance. Once, Harry would go mad trying to
figure out what the haughty boy was up to next; in fact, he had even thought at
one point that there was a distinct possibility that he was obsessed with Draco
Malfoy. Harry had practically lived
for those heated moments in the corridors, the vicious glares during Potions
Class, the airborne battles in the Quidditch Field. Draco, in all his
infuriating, sardonic, condescending glory, somehow reminded him that he could
still be a normal boy; that he could have inconsequential things in his mind
other than facing certain death at the age of sixteen. In a way, Harry was
grateful for the respite.

But all that
changed and the time came for Harry when all that mattered
was fulfilling his imposed duty and survive, relegating Draco and their
epical parody to a point where he practically didn�t even exist for the
raven-haired wizard anymore. Actually, Harry didn�t think he had thought about
the blond at all during the last three years. Even when he had led the
inquiries for Draco�s case, he had carried his duty in some kind of detachment;
it was just another job to get done. Hell, he had completely forgotten about
the damn hearing! That�s how much Draco Malfoy mattered to him. Harry truly
regretted it now, though. If he had paid more attention to Draco in the past,
things would have been quite different now, like Dumbledore had said in that
memory. Although, how exactly so, Harry wasn�t sure he wanted to know.

Still, there was
a time when Draco Malfoy was all he could think about. The blond had always
been at the forefront of his thoughts in one way or another since the day Harry
had first lay eyes on him at Madam Malkin�s: Malfoy and his hideous attitude,
Malfoy and his stupid goons, Malfoy and his childish pranks, Malfoy and his
evil father, Malfoy the juvenile Death Eater, Malfoy and his stupid hatred.
Malfoy always grating on his nerves; Malfoy always sending him to the edge;
Malfoy always, stubbornly, irritably, irremediably there!

Until he wasn�t. The next thing Harry
knew, Draco Malfoy was completely insignificant to him, and all that� passion or hatred or whatever that had
once unwillingly drawn him to the pointy-faced boy faded away like wisps of
smoke, leaving but a blurred image of a past had-been that ultimately hadn�t
been anything at all.

�Until
yesterday�� Harry murmured, deep in thought.

Insistent
tapping shook him from his mental wanderings �noticing just then that he had
been staring at the photograph all this time- and Harry looked up to see a
brown owl perched outside on his windowsill. The raven-haired man moved on
weary legs to open his window, pushing his glasses over his nose as he did so.
The owl came inside with a swirl of wings and landed gracefully on top of the
back of the closest armchair.

Harry hadn�t yet
untied the scroll of parchment from its leg and he already knew who had sent
the letter. His flat was protected with special Warding Charms; he didn�t want
to be in a position where he�d have to explain to hysterical Muggles why their
precious building had been taken over by hundreds of feathered assailants �or
dozens of masked lunatics, for that matter- thus only a handful of people knew
how to contact him by Owl Post. A bright grin appeared on his face as he broke
the crimson wax seal. Amongst those people were Angelina, Mrs. Weasley �who
unlike the rest of her family was still reluctant to use the cell phone Harry
had given Ron for his birthday; plus, she was always sending him food and
whatnot-, Fred and George �who, although they loved Muggle technology, still
thought that Owl Post was the best way to handle� er� special packages-, Dumbledore, Remus, and�

Monday, September the 10th, 2001

Dearest Harry,

Paris is wonderful! You have no
idea how much fun I�ve had! The weather is simply lovely, and there are just so
many things to do here� it�s like visiting for the first time! The lecture on
�Magical Ecological Economy and Its Impact on Large-Scale Potion-making� was
astoundingly informative; although, I hardly concur with Le Roche�s theories on
�zodiacal harvesting�, as he calls it. �Each magical herb and fungi is
intrinsically linked to a particular zodiacal sign; there�s a 40% possibility
that crops would turn out to be three times more productive, resulting in a significant
saving on land and human resources, if the cultivation processes were to be
attuned to their specific sign�s annual cycles�, he proposed. Can you believe that? I�ve never heard
such rubbish since third year! There was a moment when I almost thought I was
back in Trelawney�s classroom. Ugh! I still shudder at the memory. Still, I sat
through the whole thing because Zachariah Manistee�s thesis on the preservation
of magical ecosystems was right after it, and I just wasn�t going to miss that one�

�Of course not,
Mione,� Harry chuckled softly, his eyes unusually bright, as he read his best
friend�s missive which, as always, was several inches long �of recycled
parchment, obviously. Hermione considered the Owl Postal Service one of the
Wizarding World�s most significant traditions, so she was very adamant on its
continual use to guarantee its perpetuation. For a Muggleborn witch, she was
very old-fashioned in many ways.

Harry dropped
unceremoniously onto the chair and adjusted his glasses on his nose once more.
His friend�s handwriting was crisp and fluid, with not a dot or a dash missing.
Harry felt an awful pang of guilt as he remembered his earlier thoughts, and
not only because right then he realised how much had he missed the bushy-haired
witch; he seriously could do with some of her advice at this moment. Smiling
sheepishly, he returned his attention to the letter.

How�s everything back home? How�s work? Is Ron still
mad I didn�t allow him to home sit my flat whilst I was gone? You know how he gets
around the computer! (Last time he formatted the hard drive �he still denies it
to this very day- and I had to reinstall everything! Not to mention all the
data I lost! Thank goodness I had most of it backed up in my laptop and the zip
unit was hidden in my panty drawer.)

Ginny mentioned in her letter that Malfoy�s hearing
was today. I haven�t had the chance to check the evening newspapers yet �we�ve
been locked in the auditorium all day- so I can only imagine how it went. I
have the slight suspicion that Malfoy got out of it somehow, didn�t he? I mean,
if your team
didn�t find anything to incriminate him, I doubt there was anything there at
all. And don�t you dare tell Ginny I said that!

I�m coming back home on Wednesday around 4 p.m. Maybe
I can come over so we can have dinner or something? I�ll tell you everything
about my trip, and you can tell me about the hearing; you know I always prefer
a firsthand account of events! How does 8 o�clock sound? That way I have time
to rest a bit and spend some time with Crooks �hopefully he won�t hate me so
much for abandoning him this time. Honestly, that cat�s getting moodier every
day! Do you think he needs a girlfriend? �Not that he doesn�t spend every
single night gallivanting around the neighbourhood� Oh, well. I�ll get him some
special treats at the Patisserie; you know how much he loves �clairs. I�ll get
us some for dessert, as well; there is this charm I learned from Monsieur
Mignon (the hotel�s chef) to keep souffl�s and such things fresh I want to try.

Anyway, it�s almost time for dinner at the salon, so I
have to go. You know I�ve never liked scheduled meals, but here they help with
the socializing, so I can�t complain. Take care, Harry, and we�ll see each
other soon!

Much love,

Hermione.

PS: Oh, I almost forgot! I visited the Centre Pompidou
yesterday. It�s simply astonishing, Harry! It takes my breath away every time I
step foot in there. You have to promise to visit it someday! There�s this
ongoing exhibition on the Dada movement� I have no words for it! There were a
few paintings by the Brazilian surrealist Ivo Blasi which truly intrigued me. Fascinating
pieces, really. I know you think that Surrealism doesn�t have any sense
whatsoever and it�s like stepping into �the twisted mind of some wacko�, but
Harry, that�s exactly it! The only way you�ll ever understand the meaning, the
reason behind all of it, is allowing yourself to get caught inside the dream
and look at it from the inside; to let your subconscious tell you what your
conscious mind doesn�t permit. You�d be surprise at the wisdom it hides�

Harry stared at
the crisp parchment without really focusing on what was written on it. For some
reason, his friend�s words had steered his thoughts towards a completely
different subject, compelling his uncooperative brain into action. Just as if
some switch had been flicked inside his head, his mind started tying up
apparent lose ends and unrelated events, pinpointing bits of conversation and
facts and extrapolating them onto his current predicament in a bash of
unprecedented concentration. All of the sudden, a spark of inspiration like
none he had had in a long time flashed right through him.

Until yesterday.

�The memory...�
Harry stated; his green eyes narrowed slightly.

�Oh, Hermione! You�re brilliant!� he exclaimed, jumping from
the armchair. He grabbed the forgotten cup of coffee front the table and
sprinted to pour its cold remnants into the drain, leaving it unwashed on the kitchen
sink before rushing towards his bedroom, ignoring the owl�s indignant hooting
and fluttering.

�Ok, Harry. You
need a plan,� he told himself; determination filling his every cell. First
things first, though: a cold shower to clear his head. Then, he�d have to make a few calls. The owl
could wait a few minutes after such a long trip, couldn�t it?

Whatever. He was a man on a mission,
and he had very important things to do today. He�d worry about duty later.

For once.

��

�Don�t tell me
you�ve been here all night.�

Severus Snape
walked into the dim-lit library of Snape Manor with his unique, detached grace
and that seemingly-perpetual scowling expression on his face that somehow played
an interesting contrast with his more relaxed morning attire, which consisted
on black tailored trousers and a pale grey, collarless shirt. His footsteps
were muffled on the plush carpet, but he knew that his presence had not gone
unnoticed, despite the lack of response.

The Snape
library was quite impressive: a regal room decorated with dark wood furnishings
and dark green fabrics that took most of the west wing in the second floor of
the mansion. Countless stands and racks set against almost every wall housed
thousands of volumes, Muggle and Magical alike, catalogued by subject, author, and
timeline; an excellent collection -considered one of the best in the whole of
Wizarding Britain- which in itself spoke of the inquiring nature of the
exceptional minds bred by the Snape bloodline for generations. There were
several workstations placed in strategic spots around the room, elaborately
carved and surprisingly comfortable, specially designed for long hours of
study. The illumination was provided by beautiful bronze candelabra hanging
from the ceiling when the rich velvet curtains were drawn, which was the case
today. A grand marble fireplace on the left wall was always lighted no matter
the season, giving the room an almost unexpected cosiness, that combined with
the smell of polished ebony and ageless parchment lingering in the air complemented
and in some ways even enhanced the whole scholarly atmosphere. If Draco had
indeed spent the whole night here as Severus presumed, it wouldn�t be such a
surprise. Time didn�t exist in the house of Athena.

�You should have
gotten some rest, Draco. You had quite a stressful day yesterday,� Severus commented
when his godson still hadn�t acknowledged him. The blond wizard, currently
surrounded by piles and piles of books and parchments, finally looked up from
his spot at one of the desk tables in the middle of the room and regarded him
with a sneer of his own.

�I didn�t know
you cared,� he said lightly, returning to his perusing of old, yellowing pages
and note-taking. The Potions Master gave him a devious look before moving towards
the large windows on the adjacent wall and drawing the heavy curtains open with
a resounding �whoosh�. Morning sunshine poured into the spacious room like
liquid gold, making the blond man squint at the sudden brightness.

�I had those
closed for a reason, you know?� Draco whined petulantly as he closed the book
he had been reading and proceeded to rub his eyes. He hadn�t quite finished his
sentence when dozens of owls appeared out of nowhere and started tapping
incessantly on the immaculate glass of the windows. Severus gave the birds a
disgusted look before directing his narrowed eyes to his godson.

�If you don�t do
something about those damn pests, believe me, I will. I know there must be some good use for owl entrails,�
he said lowly, now glaring poisoned daggers at one particularly-relentless
tawny, which was pushing its claws and beak through a small gap between the
window panels, working to push it open. Draco resisted the urge to laugh at his
godfather�s antics and settled for sitting back on his chair.

�It�s not my
fault that I�m adored by the public,� he commented with a cheeky grin on his
face as he stretched like a Siamese cat. The blond then clapped his hands
lazily and, two seconds later, Dixie the
house-elf was standing right next to him.

�Good morning,
Master Draco, Sir. What is Master wanting, Sir?� she said in her unmistakable
screechy voice as she bowed deeply before him. Draco regaled her with one of
his most infamous, sugar-coated smiles.

�Good morning to
you, too, Dixie. I would like some coffee,
please. I don�t know if my godfather wants anything,� he said sweetly,
pointedly looking at the black-haired man now flapping and �shoo�-ing angrily
at the invaders, which had joint efforts with the tawny owl in its clever
endeavour. The house-elf jumped at the sight of her favourite master and stared
at him with the brightest smile to ever adorn a house-elf�s face.

�Master Snape! Dixie didn�t know Master was already awake! Is Master wanting his breakfast, Master, Sir? Dixie will have it ready as quick as lightning, Sir!�

�Master is not
hungry this morning, Dixie. Master has
suddenly lost his appetite,� Severus scowled as he settled on one of the
armchairs scattered near the desk Draco occupied, begrudgingly admitting defeat
against the horde of owls. �Although, Master would like some dark tea, now that
he thinks about it,� he muttered as an afterthought, ignoring Draco�s amused
look. The house-elf bowed low and happily before she disappeared with a loud �pop�.

�Did you sleep
well?� Draco asked at last with an innocent smile. Severus stopped brushing
invisible lint from his shirt to give him a flat look.

�No thanks to
you. Those damn owls have been tapping on every window in this damn house all
night. I�m starting to think I would have preferred your sultry moans,� he
added in a tone dripping sarcasm. Draco threw his head back as he let out a bark
of laughter.

�I told you, you
enjoyed it!� he teased as he brushed blond locks from his mercury eyes with a
casual gesture. �Unfortunately for you, I spent all night doing research....
for nothing.� There was a dry scowl on his face as he waved dismissively
towards the piles of books on the desk. Severus raised one dark eyebrow at him.

�And what, pray
tell, are you researching about?�

The blond let
out a long-suffering sigh. �Wouldn�t you want to know,� he drawled as he sank
deeper on the chair. Severus glared at him. �Oh, well. I started with Nesci Amator, but there was nothing about it... At least
nothing more than what I already knew. Then
I moved to Locking and Guarding Spells for personal journals...� He gestured to
the black diary lying on top of some parchment, glaring at it. �And then
I switched to magical bonds.� He gave a very unbecoming grunt. �I wish I
hadn�t.�

Severus stood up
from his chair and moved to peer over Draco�s shoulders at his notes. Picking
up one of the opened books, he regarded his godson with a disbelieving,
nearly-mocking look.

��Breaking Magical Bonds and Where to
Start Digging Your Own Grave�?� he inquired, reading the title of the book.

Draco snatched
the rather-thick tome from his godfather�s grasp and dropped it on the desk. �I
told you, I have to take all the possibilities into consideration.�

�And you
seriously think that breaking the bond you share with Potter will solve all
your problems?� There was a condescending smile on the black-haired man�s face.
Draco glared at him for a few moments before he gave up, shaking his head.

�It�s even worse
than I had originally thought.� He leaned forward on his chair, placing his
elbows on the desk to rest his face on his hands. �Attempting to break a
Magical Bond can shut down a person�s Magic permanently, but just the
consequences of long-term separation for bonded partners are incredibly
harmful, too. Magical drain, physical exhaustion, mental degeneration�� Draco
sighed, tilting his head to one side to look at his godfather from under his
blond locks. �I suppose that in my case Animus Salutor mitigated the effects
somehow, but who knows for how long? Until the Parts are reunited, all of their
individual power is spent on trying to maintain the bond, as it no longer has
access to the energy created by their joint magical fields. One becomes the
bond�s battery, so to speak, and if such reunion never happens, eventually,
that�s what kills you. The bond sucks you dry. Like a blood-thirsty leech.� He
paused for a moment before adding slowly, dryly, �I won�t let that happen to
me. Even if I end up a damn Squib.�

�I appreciate
your flair for the dramatics, Draco, but surely you see that you�re taking this
a little too far. Since when did you become such an extremist?� Severus sneered
at his godson�s indignant scowl as he moved a nearby chair in front of Draco�s
desk and sat down.

�You just don�t
understand anything, do you?� Draco spat. �Extreme, you say? Well, extreme circumstances call for extreme
measures, and I certainly can�t think of anything more outrageous than this
whole mess! I remember all the times I wished Potter was dead, of every
single time I actually thought of doing it myself�
And now, everything I am is linked to him!� he said
between gritted teeth. �Did you know that this bond makes him able to sense my
emotions, that he can even have access to my mind? For Merlin�s beard, if
something happens to him, I will feel
it, as if it were happening to me!�

The Potions
Master regarded him silently for a few moments. �Yes,� he admitted. �But the
connection is mutual. It�s a defence mechanism, and it only works under special
circumstances.� He steepled his fingers under his chin.
�It could prove benefitial sometime, when�� he trailed off, giving his godson a
meaningful look.

�When what? When we get together? Or when this
whole mess is out in the open and he realises he can�t handle the pressure?
Surely he�ll use his end of the bond to get back at me for ruining his perfect
life,� the blond muttered, grey eyes narrowed.

�Draco, you must
give Potter the benefit of the doubt. For your
own sake,� Severus said seriously. Draco laughed, albeit humourlessly.

�I can�t believe
you just said that,� he snorted. �You
above all people should know he�ll play this bond to his advantage!�

�Oh, and you
won�t?� Severus asked flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

�Only if necessary. �The end
justifies the means�,� Draco reminded absentmindedly as he examined his
fingernails. He could feel his godfather�s fixed stare, but he was reluctant to
concede.

�Which in this
case is?�

The tone Severus
used made it quite clear that he was starting to lose his patience, but Draco
knew his godfather enough not to consider it a threat, just a bit of a nuisance,
some times. He knew perfectly well that that was fuelling his godfather�s
sudden antagonism was worry. Honestly, the man worried too much! Draco was an
adult now; he could take care of himself. In fact, he had been doing it for
quite a while. He didn�t need to assess his decisions with anybody... even less
so this particular decision.

The blond
regarded his godfather with a mischievous sneer. �You don�t actually believe
I�m going to tell you all my evil plans?� he retorted cheekily; raising one
thin, pale eyebrow. �First rule in the Spy�s Handbook, Severus: �Do not take
anything for granted�.�

�Oh, just like
�Consider all variables�, I presume?� Severus said sardonically. �You say you
want to take all possibilities into consideration, but you�re ruling out from
the very beginning the fact that Potter may actually want to be involved.
You�re letting this so-called vendetta of yours cloud your judgement!�

�And you�ve
spent too much time in the old coot�s company. Next thing you�ll know, you�ll
start carrying around Chocolate Frogs in your robe pockets,� Draco drawled, glancing
irritably at the windows. The owls hadn�t stopped their attack and the
continuous rattle was starting to grate on his nerves. He idly wondered if it
was against any wizarding law to cast Petrificus Totallis against
Ministry property. In any case, he could plea �not guilty�, alleging temporal
insanity, but he didn�t think he was up to facing another tribunal from the
defendant dock any time soon.

�As much as it pains me to admit it,�
Severus started, pointedly ignoring his godson�s latest remark, �Albus is
right... as always,� he grumbled. �Destiny is like Magic, Draco. It makes us
believe we are in control, but the truth is that we aren�t; not really. Those
who dare reign over Magic are ruthlessly punished. I�m afraid it�s the same
with Fate. You and Potter are meant to be together. You can�t change that, no
matter how much you want to.�

Draco stared at him thoughtfully for a
few moments before he spoke in a firm voice, �I wish I could have yours and the
Headmaster�s optimism, Severus, but if there�s something I�ve learned in my
short life is that nothing ever goes as one hopes. Even if Potter and I somehow
managed to overcome the past �I
mean, the part we still remember,� he added dryly, �what do you think will be waiting for us?
Why do you think we kept our affair a secret?� He snorted. �What we had is gone
forever. Vanished. Obliterated.
And believe me, some things are better left alone. Perhaps it was Fate that
determined we had our memories modified. Perhaps it realised what an awful
mistake had been done and it just merely corrected it. Some things are just not
worth the trouble.� Or the pain, he thought; a deep scowl engraved in
his handsome features. The bitterness brought forward by yesterday�s spell �by
his own memories, to be more accurate- still latched at his stomach; a sour
reminder of his true place where Potter was concerned.

The Potions
Master stared at Draco with his inquisitive onyx eyes. He knew when to draw the
line with his godson. He could tell there were a lot of things swirling in the
younger wizard�s mind; his eyes had turned that stormy grey, the colour of
autumn rain clouds, which told he didn�t want to continue this line of
conversation. Severus was torn between pushing the subject and giving in. With
Draco, it was always like this: a relentless battle of wills. The blond was one
of the most difficult people he had ever met in his life �and taking into
consideration that he had been a close acquaintance of Tom Riddle�s, that was
saying a lot. Both Severus and Draco had complex personalities. Both of them
always went to great extents to hide their true feelings and thoughts. Both
were very skilled at pushing people�s buttons. Both always wanted to have the
last word. This was quite the explosive combination when it came to dealing
with each other. In a way, dealing with Draco was like dealing with himself;
which was a minus, not a plus, like anyone would think.

He sighed and
sat back on his chair. Maybe he should attempt a subtle approach. Glancing at
the black journal lying atop of the pile of parchment on the desk, he
remembered what he had wanted to say when he saw it on Draco�s lap yesterday
but had refrained to due to the circumstances. He picked it up and browsed
through it.

�Concealment
Charm?� he asked distractedly after clearing his throat, purposely keeping his
jet-black eyes on the blank pages.

Draco gave him
an annoyed look that went unnoticed as he caught up with his godfather�s
tactic. The man didn�t know when to give it up, did he? Relenting begrudgingly,
he shifted so he could place his legs across one of the chair�s arms. �More
like a bloody magical barricade,� he mumbled. �There must be like a dozen
layers of spells on it, but the funny thing is that they all seem to be
interconnected. I spent three hours trying to break them. What a waste of time,�
he added with a scowl.

�I saw you with
it once,� Severus said after a short while, hesitating. He ventured a glance up
to Draco. �It was during the summer break before your Seventh Year. You were in
the Drawing Room, writing on it.� The blond merely stared back at him with
unreadable mercury eyes.

�You don�t
remember?� the Potions Master asked, but it was more a statement.

�Amongst other
things, apparently,� Draco said tersely; that Malfoy mask back in place.
Severus let out another tired sigh.

�Draco, sooner
or later, you would have had to face this.� He looked intently at his godson
before continuing, �I don�t want you to do something you�ll regret later just
because you�re scared. That doesn�t become you.�

�I�m not scared!
I know what I�m doing!� Draco said fiercely. �I appreciate your concern,
Severus, but unfortunately for you this is my bloody choice, my
bloody life, and it�s up to me to figure out how to deal with things! Neither
you, nor Dumbledore, nor Harry fucking Potter for that matter have any saying
on this!�

�That�s where
you�re wrong! This does concern Potter, whether you like it or not!� the
Potions master said between clenched teeth, itching to do something with his
fisted hands. He reckoned that knocking some sense into the blond sitting
across from him would be certainly satisfying, but he settled for running them
through his raven-black hair, giving himself some time to compose.

�You have no
right to make this �decision� on your own,� he added in a softer tone after a
short pause; his black gaze locked on his godson. �Wait until Potter is
informed of all this. Wait until you know what he wants. Then you may
decide what to do. You owe it to him; it�s his bloody life, too.�

This was
ridiculous, Severus knew. Draco would not give in easily; not today, when
everything was so fresh and the blond was still adjusting. But he had to try.
It wasn�t in Draco�s nature to rush headlong into something like this. He�d
plan, and ponder, and question, and reconsider everything all over again until
he was satisfied he was making the right choice. He was the embodiment of
everything that was Slytherin. He was supposed to think of his own
interests, of his own well-being, and Severus didn�t know how turning himself into a Muggle could fit into that equation. This... desperation
only belied how truly shaken his godson was, how afraid. Severus couldn�t blame
him, but he also couldn�t let him make such an irresponsible mistake. Hell, Severus
himself was scared; scared of not knowing exactly what was going through
Draco�s mind. He had only seen his godson this off-centred after Lucius�
imprisonment, and it had not been pretty. Severus reminded himself,
he had to come up with something, and soon.

�Not if I have
something to do about it,� the blond stated coldly, matter-of-factly; shaking
his godfather from his musings. �I know how Potter will react to this. He�ll
make a scene and yell and cry why the Gods hate him so much to have cursed him
with Draco Malfoy for a Soul Mate. I simply refuse to go through it.�

Severus� lips
curled in a grimace. So there was fear of rejection, as well... He refrained
from commenting on that. There were some serious �Draco issues� regarding
rejection, and Severus was in no disposition to get near that subject. One
heated discussion with his godson was enough for one day.

�Do you, now?�
he drawled, closing the damned journal and placing it carefully on the desk.
Draco seemed to be about to utter one of his witty comebacks, but then Dixie appeared out of the blue with a loud �pop�, holding
an apparently-heavy tray in her small hands. The Potions Master found he was
glad for the interruption.

�Here it is,
Master Draco, Master, Sirs,� the elf said happily as she deposited two cups and
two steaming jars on the desk. Next were two saucers with cream and honey and a
basket with an assortment of biscuits and muffins.

Draco had
already grabbed his cup and had started pouring copious amounts of coffee and
cream into it �obviously relieved by the interruption as well- when Dixie suddenly exclaimed, �Oh! Dixie
nearly forgot, Master, Sir!� She started rummaging in her pink apron�s front
pocket. �A Ministry messenger came by and addressed this for Master Draco. He
said it was a special delivery from the Wizengamot, Sir,� she added as she gave
a puzzled Draco a tightly-rolled piece of parchment with no less than four
seals on it. With a final bow and a big, proud smile at Severus for her own
efficiency, she disappeared once again.

Draco forwent
his usual remarks on the house-elf�s behaviour in favour of his own curiosity.
He broke the seals with slightly shaky hands, unrolled the scroll, and skimmed
its contents.

�I have to go to
the Ministry this morning to get the deeds for my inheritance,� he said in an
uncharacteristically small voice at Severus� expectant frown. �I have to sign
the release forms before the judges for Inheritance Affairs.�

Draco sat back heavily
on his chair. Even when he knew it would come �eventually-, he found
himself unprepared for the relief invading his every cell. He couldn�t believe
it was finally over... So many years waiting for this day and, surprisingly, he
didn�t know what else to say.

�Certainly? I must say, I wasn�t sure
the Ministry would settle this matter so fast, but I suppose one must never
underestimate the power of ridicule,� Severus stated with a satisfied smirk on
his pale face. �I don�t have anything scheduled for today, so I can accompany
you...�

�I would prefer
it if I do this alone,� Draco quickly interrupted, giving his godfather a
somewhat sheepish smile. �Besides, I have to run other errands. I�m sure you�d
be bored to death,� he said distractedly as he poured sugar into his coffee,
trying to hide his uneasiness.

Severus had to
admit, he hadn�t expected Draco�s request. He had thought that he�d be with his
godson when this day arrived and the young wizard was returned everything that
was rightfully his. In a way, the Potions Master felt it was his victory, too;
every single one of Draco�s triumphs was as important to Severus as if they
were his own. But Draco had so much to deal with at the moment that the Potions
Master knew he couldn�t impose his wishes on the blond.

He gave his
godson a measuring look before a flat sneer sneaked subtly onto his face.

Gods, he was getting too old for this.

�Very well,� he
finally said, picking up his cup of tea. �You�re on your own today. I�ll take
care of those damn owls,� he added dryly, gesturing to the windows and
swallowing the hurt Draco�s tacit words had caused. The blond gave him a
mischievous smirk, and suddenly the sting wasn�t as painful anymore. Severus
Snape knew right then, Draco must be some sort of a weak spot for him... Although, he had suspected it for a while.

The younger
wizard must have known exactly what he was thinking, for then he spoke, a
delighted grin on his face as he brought his cup to his lips, �Gods! I love coffee!�

And Severus
could only smile briefly over his own cup of bitter tea, knowing that,
all-in-all, he was part of Draco�s precious few, happy moments.

��

A loud �crack�
broke the natural tranquillity of the lonely country road, followed by the
agitated flapping of wings and trills of a few startled birds fleeing at the
sound. Harry opened his eyes to a fresh autumn breeze blowing on his face,
carrying with it the rich scents of dewy grass and ripe apples. The cicadas�
song drifted from the surrounding yellowing trees; their intermittent �shriek-shriek� mingling with the hiss of the wind in a happy salute to the
mid-morning sun. The sky up above was bright blue and cloudless, unparalleled
in this time of year, and Harry gladly took the exceptional weather as a good
omen.

The raven-haired
Auror started up the dirt road, squinting feebly under the blazing sun.
Squirrels and small lizards scurried unexpectedly across the road and up the
nearest tree as they noticed his presence, sending the bushes and shrubs on the
sides into a temporary fuss in their getaway. Harry�s heart was beating
anxiously, steering butterflies in his stomach as it raced to match the
quickened pace of his footsteps; a glimmer of perspiration was starting to show
on his brow and upper lip, but other than to question his choice for attire
�tailored trousers and a long-sleeve shirt under a wizard�s robe-, he forbid
himself any thoughts of doubt or hesitation.

A man had to do
what a man had to do, after all.

A few minutes
later he was facing a small intersection, where another, much narrower and
visibly less-travelled road joined the one he had been walking on. Harry
sprinted purposely up the new path, which was flanked by ageless oaks and elm
trees. The tall trunks and the broad branches made for a much-welcomed reprieve
against the sun; the air here was cooler and smelled of lichen and moist soil.
The path twisted and turned amongst clusters of trees as it led him through a
grove, which grew thicker and darker with every step he took. Finally, when he
was starting to wonder if he had messed up the directions somehow, he reached
the edge of the small wood. A grassy hill rose before him, at the top of which
stood a highly wrought iron fence. Letting out a deep breath of relief, he
walked towards the great iron gates standing up ahead. Beyond the fence, a
ridiculously big manor rose up to the sky, surrounded by colourful, exuberant
gardens.

�What a show-off,�
Harry muttered as he walked through the gates, which had opened automatically
the moment he stood before them.

The raven-haired
Auror walked in awe through patches of roses, gardenias, petunias, and
daffodils glimmering in the sunlight. Weren�t he here on �business�, he
certainly would take his time to do some proper sightseeing of the grounds.
Harry had to admit, the place was impressive. The meticulously-kept gardens
appeared as some kind of oasis amongst the surrounding woods, with beautiful
marble sculptures, fountains, and benches sitting between waltzing willows and
flower beds. The manor itself seemed to have been taken out of a fairy tale; it
was four stories high, and most of the facade was covered in ivy, with dozens
of windows of all sizes imaginable peering out to the world. Beautifully ornate
cornices and columns stood out from the green tapestry, betraying the manor�s
neoclassical influence. White smoke rose up from several of the countless
chimneys, and Harry wondered vaguely how many house-elves were needed to
maintain such a monstrosity of a �house�.

�Alright. Here we are. No turning
back now,� he said to himself as he approached the front door. Taking a few
deep breaths, he moved to stand before a heavy-looking, bronze door knocker.
Harry hadn�t yet attempted to grab it when the huge wooden door opened swiftly
with a loud shriek, and it was all he could do not to jump out of his
body.

�My, my. Look what we have here� Hello, Mr. Potter. What a lovely surprise,�
Severus Snape said in his most sardonic tone as he stood at the threshold; dry
sneer in place and arms folded over his silk-clothed chest.

��

The Potions Master didn�t like having his
domestic peace so annoyingly disrupted this early in the morning, but he had to
admit, watching Potter�s horror-stricken face liquefy into that of a gaping
fish in a matter of seconds was enough to make up for the irritation he felt at
having the alleged hero at his doorstep �for the moment, at least; who knows
what kind of irreparable damage could be inflicted upon one�s sanity by simple
overexposure to the horrid brat�s presence. Besides, he had several hypotheses
as to why Harry Potter would be now standing within the confines of his
property, and none of them had anything to do with himself, personally.

�Well, don�t just stand there, Potter. I
highly doubt you were mistakenly dropped by the Owl Post on my front door,� he
said as he made an irritated gesture for the Auror to come through.

Potter snuck out of his state of shock
just when it was starting to lose its appeal, to Severus� relief. The Auror
cleared his throat before stating in a passably firm voice, �I�m here to see
Malfoy, sir.�

Are you, now? Severus thought with a mental roll of his eyes as he studied the
black-haired youth still standing on his doorstep. �Of course,� he scoffed,
turning on his boot-heels and sweeping through the foyer into the sun-lit
parlour without bothering to look back and check if Potter had followed. Sure
enough, he heard the heavy �thump� of the door closing a few seconds
before the telltale sound of Potter�s footsteps somewhere behind him.

Sitting on one of the plush armchairs in
the centre of the elegant room, the Potions Master looked up to see the former
Gryffindor standing uncomfortably on the doorway.

�Well, sit down, Potter... Unless you
have a perch complex, in which case, by all means, do as you like,� Severus
drawled as he crossed one leg over the other in one fluent motion. Harry
narrowed his emerald eyes at the pale-faced wizard, but moved to take the offered
seat in front of his host nonetheless.

�Is Malfoy...?�

�Are you here on Ministry orders, boy, or
is it one of your independent assignments?� the Potions Master interrupted him
with a sneer, watching with relish as Potter�s face grew darker with each uttered
word. Honestly, the brat made it so easy for him it was almost �almost-
no fun.

The younger wizard took a visible deep
breath. �I�m not here as an Auror, sir. I�m here on personal matters.� Severus raised one eyebrow at the admission,
regarding the younger wizard with critical onyx eyes.

�Indeed? Well, Mr. Potter, I�m sorry to
say that Draco isn�t here at the moment. He left not ten minutes ago,
actually,� he commented lightly as he watched the play of emotions going
through the Saviour�s face. �Ah, but where are my manners? Would you like a cup
of tea?� He waved towards a loaded tray set on the side table placed near the
two chairs.

Harry blinked a few times in obvious
surprise before he stuttered, �Well, I... Er...�

�Oh, for Salazar�s name, Potter,� Severus
muttered, annoyed. �We fought a war together; we know each other�s worst
memories. I can�t believe you�d think I�d try to poison you now,� he
drawled, accentuating that last word with just a hint of sarcasm. �You�ve come
all the way here from London.
It would be quite the discourtesy if you didn�t stay for at least five
minutes.�

Harry stared at his former professor for
a few moments before finally relenting. �I guess I could stay for a short
while,� he said cautiously. Holding back the impulse to roll his eyes at the
infuriating brat, Severus started to serve them both some tea, all the while
conscious of the emerald eyes following his every move -which the Potions
Master found quite amusing, to say the least. Cups in hand, the unlikely pair
nursed their drinks amidst an eerie, tense silence; time Potter spent doing a
reconnaissance of his surroundings.

�So tell me, Potter. What is this
�personal matter� you need to discuss with my godson? Is it somehow related to
yesterday�s spectacle?� Severus finally asked, watching with no small
satisfaction how the Wizarding World�s Biggest Brat choked on his tea.

�What? I... What do you..? I
mean...�

Here we go again with the stuttering, Severus thought, and he idly wondered if it wasn�t in actuality
one of Gryffindor�s most annoying �traits�. He let out an obfuscated sigh for
good measure.

�What I mean, Potter, is that I know why
you�re here,� the Potions Master stated dryly. �In fact, I was wondering when
you�d show up �what with our brief t�te-�-t�te yesterday- but to tell the
truth, I didn�t expect it to be so soon. Maybe you�re not as stupid as I
thought,� he drawled before taking a sip of his tea. Harry merely resumed his
owlish staring, apparently oblivious to the insult.

�You know? You know about...?�

�About the bond? Of course I do. And as a matter of fact, so does Draco.�

�But... how did you..?� Harry trailed
off; apparently, his brain hadn�t yet processed the whole statement, and the
Potions Master felt incredibly good with himself as he realised that this
development had not crossed Potter�s head as a possibility the moment he
decided to show up �unannounced, at that- at his house. It�s always a
plus to have the upper hand in a situation; even more so when said situation
revolves around Harry Potter, Severus thought with a smirk. It wasn�t his
fault. Old habits die hard, and he was an old fox.

�Do I really need to answer that
question?� The younger man glared at him. �Fine, Potter. Let�s just say that
what I witnessed yesterday in that bathroom was enlightening in more ways than
one,� he drawled, feeling a bit ill when he saw the slight blush colouring the
Auror�s cheeks.

�At first, I thought� I was losing it,�
Potter said, green eyes locked on his tea cup. �When I saw Draco yesterday I felt...
It has no comparison to anything I�ve ever felt before.� He frowned, as if trying
to arrange his thoughts, and Severus refrained from commenting on the
name-slip. �But it wasn�t until later, when I was able to sense the bond, that
I made the connection.� He looked up at the Potions Master, eyes shining with
something the older man couldn�t quite pinpoint. �I�ve given it some thought,
and all I could come up with is that this has something to do with what
happened in the past� with Draco, I mean. That�s why I came here this morning;
I was hoping that Draco would... that we could figure this out together.
There�s a lot at stake,� he added as an afterthought.

Severus remained quiet for a while. He
had to give it to the hideous boy; if anything, he appeared to have worked some
things out on his own. It was� well, impressive,
in an annoying sort of way. He wouldn�t have thought that Harry Potter could
have such prowess for deduction.

With a pensive frown on his face, the
Potions Master put his cup down, sat up, and looked intently
into Potter�s bright, emerald eyes.

�I want you to know that I don�t consider
it wise to meddle in this current predicament you two have landed yourselves
into, but after learning of Draco�s views on this matter, I don�t have another
choice but to tell you everything we know so far, for I don�t want to imagine
what the consequences would be if you were to be told too late... or not at
all. Hopefully, you�ll take this information with the same legendary honour you
seem to take everything else,� he added cynically, but felt pleased with his
choice of words when he noticed a flicker of apprehension crossing the younger
wizard�s face.

�How bad is it?� Potter asked flatly,
taking Severus a bit by surprise. He had expected more dramatics from the
Gryffindor.

�Bad enough to make my godson consider
the possibility of becoming a Squib,� he stated wryly. The Auror�s eyes
widened, and again, a spark of some indefinable emotion flashed in their
depths. Severus wasn�t sure if what he had seen had been astonishment, anger,
hurt, or a mix of them all.

�He�s considering breaking the bond,
then,� the younger man said after a short pause, depositing his cup on the side
table. �Very well, I guess I shouldn�t worry, if he�s planning on taking care
of this �predicament� himself. That�s good to know. Thank you for your time,
Mr. Snape. I�ll see myself out,� he added as he stood up from his chair without
more protocol. The Potions Master felt the first sparks of anger in his
stomach.

�As unbelievably inconvenient as this may
be for your future plans, Potter, let me remind you that this is not
just Draco�s problem,� he said contemptuously to the Gryffindor�s back. �I�m
sure you know your share about Magical Bonds, being an Auror and all. This is not
a simple curse we�re talking about, just as much as it didn�t start yesterday.�

Harry Potter stopped abruptly, turning to
face him in a swirl of black robes.

�What the hell do you want me to do?� he
asked, fists clenched at his sides, his green eyes narrowed into mere slits. �I
came here expecting to figure out what is going on and you just told me
everything I needed to know. If Draco�s already made up his mind about it, then
so be it! The Gods know that will only make my life easier.�

�Well, of course,� Severus hissed as he
too stood up and walked towards the hero, pale face set in a snarl. �I�m sure
it will solve all your petty problems to have your Other Part�s life completely
destroyed. I�m sorry Potter, but I won�t allow that.�

Harry blanched, taking a step backwards.
�What the fuck are you talking about?�

�Tell me, Potter. Have you been having
any sordid dreams lately? Dreams you haven�t told the charming Miss Weasley
about?� Severus asked maliciously, ignoring the younger wizard�s bewildered
expression.

�How... how do you know...?�

He took another step towards Potter, a
wicked smile on his face, knowing he had just hit the nail on the head. �What
was exactly that you felt when you first saw my godson after such a long time?
Did you have visions, too, or were you too distracted by wanting to take him
right then on the bathroom floor to care?� Another step and they were both face
to face now. Potter was cornered against the peach-coloured wall, and Severus
leaned to tower imposingly over him. �Oh, no... Better answer me this: Were you
able to take your lovely fianc� to bed last night without picturing Draco�s
face inside your head?�

Too caught up in Avenging Mode, Severus
noticed just a little too late that Potter had taken his wand out and had it
pointing at his temple in a flash. Before he could react, he heard Potter�s
hissed words, �Oh, I think you already know more than you should...

�Legillimens!� Harry yelled, and next thing Severus knew, he was being pushed
backwards with the force of the spell. Potter launched into his mind with the
power of an avalanche, sweeping away all his barriers as if they were a handful
of wizard cards. He had just had time to wonder vaguely how in Hades� name
Potter had managed to do that before memories of the day before started
flashing in front of his eyes and he felt the Auror�s demanding presence right behind him, pushing him for
more, and more, and more. He couldn�t control it; he couldn�t stop the ruthless
invasion. Severus� mind had turned into a block of the thinnest ice, and Potter
was holding the chisel in his hands.

An eternity later �or what at any rate
felt like it- the Potions Master opened his jet-black eyes to find himself
panting in a heap of limbs on the floor; his head pounding with the worst
headache he had ever felt since the last time he experienced the Cruciatus
Curse at the hands of His Infernal Majesty himself. Next to him, Potter was
kneeling on the white marble next to his wand; face flushed and eyes as big as
saucers, and apparently not just a little out of breath as well.

�Oh, Gods...� Severus heard him
say in a whisper. �Oh, Gods�, indeed. Imbecile,
he thought furiously, but to tell the truth, he didn�t really know who it was
he was insulting.

�Was that absolutely necessary?� he spat, although it didn�t have the intended effect as
he was still reeling from the experience.

�I�m... I�m sorry... I didn�t know what
else...� Potter trailed off as he stood up on unsteady legs, picked up his
wand, and moved to help his former professor, who pushed him away angrily.

�Never, and I mean, never do that
again or I won�t be held responsible for my actions. Is that clear!?� Severus
snarled, furious, as he brushed wet locks of black hair from his brow and stood
up as well. Harry Potter was standing against the wall a few feet away from
him, panting heavily and shivering. It was then that the Potions Master noticed
the tear tracks running from the wide, green eyes across the unnaturally pale
face. For some reason he didn�t care to contemplate, the unexpected sight ruled
his anger into a sudden, anticlimactic halt, completely annihilating the litany
of insults that a mere second ago was about to erupt from his mouth.

Both wizards just stood there, staring at
each other and unable to utter a single word for what seemed to be a long time,
until the young Auror let out an odd sound that was something between a whine
and a moan and collapsed onto the floor, shaking visibly. The Potions Master
watched with disbelieving eyes how the proclaimed hero grabbed his head with
both hands and started banging it against the wall, all the while muttering
nonsense. It didn�t take Severus long to decide that that was something he did not want to witness, let alone in his
own home.

�Oh, what the...� he scoffed, inwardly
unnerved by Potter�s reaction. �Stand up, Potter! I would have thought that if
you were able to cast such a powerful spell then you�d be strong enough to take
the things you�d see like a man,� he scolded as he grabbed the younger wizard
by the forearms and pushed him roughly to his feet. Fortunately, Potter�s
embarrassment and his deep-seated dislike for the former professor seemed to
shake him off of his moment of weakness, for he yanked himself free from
Severus� hold, wiping his face angrily as he raised himself to his full height,
now shaking with fury.

�I demand an explanation,� he half-said,
half-hissed. The Potions Master let out an incredulous snort that echoed,
mocking, against the impassive walls of the parlour.

�You just went through my memories,
Potter. You saw everything there was to see. I don�t think it can get any
clearer than that,� he stated in a deceiving calm voice as he pulled at his
shirt collar and cuffs; his pit-black eyes fixed on the raving Auror.

�The fuck I will!� Harry said between
gritted teeth, pointing his wand at the Potions Master�s chest. Severus could
swear he heard the younger wizard�s jaws clenching. �Tell me everything! Now!�

�You moronic boy,� he snarled, sensing his
own anger swelling inside of him as he glared fixedly at Potter; completely unmoved
by the wand-tip directed at him. �What
part of it all did you not understand? You and Draco were together in secret
during your sixth year. A bond was formed between you. Apparently, somebody
found out about your no doubt exhilarating affair; somebody who wasn�t pleased
about it. They cast a Dark Spell to make you forget your romantic history, but
the bond resisted it and now that you�ve seen each other again you�re
experiencing its pull. That�s what yesterday was all
about. Is that enough or do you need me to draw a schema for you? Or better
yet, would you like to speak to Albus so he can confirm everything I�ve just
said? There�s a fireplace in the hall. I�m sure he�ll be delighted to hear from
you.�

�Forget it,� Potter hissed, shaking his
head as if to substantiate what he had just said. He lowered his wand, but his
posture remained guarded, antagonistic. �There has to be some sort of mistake.
This can�t be true. It�s impossible. This isn�t happening.�

Severus� eyes were trained on Potter; the
black orbs shining with barely-repressed ire. The Potions Master knew he had to
be reasonable, that this was a lot to digest for the young wizard, but he just
couldn�t gather the will to do it. Potter was supposed to be a tough man. If he
could face up to the Dark Lord, he could handle this. Besides, Severus was
counting on him to solve this mess. It was Potter who had the keys for his
godson�s happiness; nothing Severus could do or say would give Draco the reassurance
he so desperately wanted and needed. It was Potter who could persuade Draco of
his stupid plans. It was him who could ultimately save them both. Why couldn�t
the idiotic brat see that?

�Believe it or not, Potter, it is happening,� the Potions Master said
lowly, trying with all his might to reign in his anger. �You need to stop this
pathetic, Muggle movie-extracted performance and focus on what matters. You
said so yourself. There is a lot at stake here; yours and Draco�s futures, to
be precise!�

�I don�t give a fuck about Malfoy! He can drop dead for all I care!� the Auror
suddenly yelled, hysterical; his green eyes glowing with resentment and unshed
tears. �This is not what I fucking bargained for! I refuse to believe this
rubbish! You and Draco Malfoy can go to Hell!�

Those words went down Severus� throat
like a swig of the vilest draught. That was all he needed to see, to hear. He
had almost believed that everything could be resolved; that perhaps there would
be a happy ending after all, no matter the current chaos. Yes, he had
definitely turned into an overoptimistic, senile Hufflepuff. Damn Dumbledore
and his words of hope. Damn Potter for what he had been, for what he was, and
for what he would always be: an inconsiderate, egotistical, arrogant prick. And
damn himself for being such a fool. His godson was
right.

What a bloody waste of time.

Seething, he moved to stand right before
Potter in all his looming glory. �Is that so? Because I suppose this is exactly
what my godson wanted? A Soul Mate for whom he has been waiting for so long and
who in all honesty doesn�t give a bloody damn about him? For whom he�ll have to
give up the only thing he has left to feel proud of, his magic?�

Harry Potter merely kept glaring at him
defiantly. Severus� face turned into a mask of pure hatred.

�Get over yourself, Potter. You don�t
deserve to be bonded to Draco,� he spat viciously before giving the young Auror
a disgusted once-over, turning around, and moving smoothly towards the doorway.
�You know the way out,� he threw over
his shoulder as he exited the room with firm, ominous steps.

Outside, it had started to pour.

��

TBC�
- 7
- 8
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Ethereal Desire

Ethereal Desire

Chapter Seven