Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

No Outlet for Anger	By : wherdatcomfrom Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5483 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 9
Chapter Eight: A Pure Blood Law
Narcissa observed everything, from the exterior of the house to every detail of the interior décor, and she was surprised by the attention that had gone into the redecorating. Such was not the way of the Black family she remembered, and she hardly thought that Harry Potter had been raised in such opulence. So, it had to be his wife, but that did not align with her knowledge of the Weasley clan.
As they alighted the stairs, she noticed the lack of paintings on the walls and decided to begin her interview here. “Where are my ancestors, Auror Potter?”
Harry stopped and turned, looked around the walls and frowned. “Don't know. They were here. I'll bet it was the spell.” he said before turning back to his incline. “You should talk to Draco about that.”
“Draco. And what would my son have to do with this?”
“It was his spell.”
“His . . .” words left her bereft, so she simply continued up the stairs, hoping to clear this up when she reached Draco's position.
The door was not elaborate, or designated in any other way, but she knew instantly that this was the room where her son now lived. And by lived, she meant that he was here for more than an incapacitation. This had become Draco's home.
Inside, her son was bundled under quilts of silk and satin, against a bed of fine oak, and with pillows of purest swan's down. It was the room of a prince, or a Lord, at least. He looked up at her and his countenance relaxed. “Mother, you came?”
“Yes. I am here to see to your recovery.”
“Potter has a healer seeing to that. You should care for yourself.”
“And you wife?” Narcissa asked.
“We are searching for Astoria. Do not worry. Potter and I will locate her.”
The woman turned to the auror and scowled. “And why would you do that?” she inquired.
“It's my job. Finding lost people. Stopping unlawful activities. All that. I'm looking into it now, with the aid of an accomplice. Draco's right. Don't worry about anything. I only brought you here to prove that he was recovering.”
“Then, it is good for my son and his wife that you are such a diligent man, Auror Potter.” Narcissa added.
“Yeah, well. Look, I've got something to take care of. I'll just let you two have some privacy. If the alarm goes off, it's the green potion, this time. I'll be back later.”
“I'll need to be returned to the manor before dinner, Auror Potter. If I'm late, Mr. Grimsby will report my absence. If that should happen, I might just lose the grant for increase of magical power that so recently came my way.” Narcissa's eyes had softened and Harry smiled.
“We can't let that happen.” he said as he closed the door.

Harry searched the library and found seven books that looked promising. His memory of their school research told him to start with the largest and work back to the smallest. The first book, Great and Noble House Rules, by Sir Leon Rushby of York, was surprisingly free of dust and in good repair. That usually indicated a potent housekeeping spell and that the book was important to its owner.
Harry soon discovered why.
The book was a treasure of Pure-blood laws, meant to protect the ownership of property from jealous officials and lesser magical folk. In it he learned the ways that older families could continue on, even in lieu of heirs, or with multiple deaths of their prodigy. He learned about blood spells that made it possible to preserve a line, when the children were found barren, couples could not manage to . . . couple, or males failed to make profitable matches.
The terms they used made Harry roll his eyes, but he found he could understand their reasoning, when addressing inheritance. He even learned of the loophole that made him the heir to the Black family line, and just how he could pass it on to Albus, but why it couldn't go to Teddy, even though he was an actual descendent. And it had nothing to do with werewolves or half-bloods. It was sexism that made the ascension impassable.
By the end of the seventh chapter, just before he was to take Narcissa home, he found the reference that he was sure she was alluding to. Named line residency.
“So long as a member of the named family resides in a property that is part of the legacy, all properties not purposely sold off can not be liberated from that family line.”
Harry looked around at the walls of the library and inhaled deep into his lungs. Narcissa was protecting the family assets by residing in the manor. If the Ministry could force her out, it would be able to truly usurp all Malfoy properties. Was his own inheritance at risk, because he didn't reside in a family home?
He needed to talk to her, and maybe other knowledgeable pures, and find out for sure. It would be risky, but he thought his first step would be Mrs. Malfoy. For now, he had to get her home, and get her son well. Those were his priorities.
In the upstairs bedroom, the woman in questions was just rising when he opened the door, and she smiled lightly at him. “Very prompt, Auror Potter.”
“Of course. I would never allow myself to be at fault for your being reported by the official in your home. We must get you back, but could I call on you again? I have questions on a topic we discussed this afternoon.”
“Indeed? That would be most pleasant, Auror. I'll look forward to it.”
With his mother gone, Draco returned to the reading that Potter had left him. He was mostly through the first book when Harry returned. He put it aside and dutifully took his potions, watching the way the auror collected up the detritus and prepared to leave. “What were you and my mother discussing that is so important?”
Harry stopped his task and his hands froze over the bottles. He looked up and found himself the object of an intense grey gaze. “House elves.” he said and was granted the view of astonishment filling those eyes.
“She told you something?” Draco's mouth moved softly over whispered words.
“She did. Your mother is a very bright woman. Very intelligent. She, and your father, have hidden some of your family's assets, put the elves there to protect them, and now she stays at a house full of orphans and Ministry oafs, just so that they can't take them away from you. From Scorpius. It's perfect. No one can do anything about it.”
“What are you going on about, Potter?” Draco snapped and Harry lifted his wand and aimed it at the open door.
“Accio Rushby book.” he called and the heavy volume came flying up the stairs. He put it in front of Draco and flipped to the page. The blond read, and Harry completed his task of cleaning up until he thought the other wizard had finished the important lines. “Do you see, now?”
“So, the Ministry can't take our things? What about the furnishings and artifacts?”
“I'm guessing that they still remain yours. The Ministry sold them, but there have been a lot of cases of things disappearing over the years. Some of the younger aurors have been assigned to the thefts, but have never found any evidence of forced entry or proof of the thief's identity. I'm guessing it's the elves.” Harry had a thoughtful look on his face and it brightened. “The Minister has never pushed for further investigation. They took the money and let the things be returned to their rightful owners.”
“Why?” Draco was still looking lost as he stared down at the page.
“Those sly old goats. Don't you see? If they can get hold of the other properties, they can sell the stuff again. They're biding their time, hoping that your mum, and the others that have managed to keep their homes, will slip up. That's probably why the laws are getting so much worse. And any of the heirs that end up with the unspeakables will make it harder for the properties to be passed on to the next generation.” Harry slammed a hand down on the end table, upsetting some of the potion bottles. “It's not just post-war sentiments, it's a full-blown conspiracy!” he shouted.
“What are you going to do?” Draco stared at the red potion that dripped from its decanter onto the tray. Harry kept this one here, but Draco had never been given any of it.
“I'm going to blow the lid off of it. But first, we need to get your wife to safety, and any others that might be in unspeakable hands. You need to rest and get well. You've got a lot of inheritance to become Lord over.” The smile that the auror sent his way made Draco's insides swell and his throat went dry. He had never seen a look like that cross Harry Potter's face, but he had been out of the other's life for decades.

Because of his illness, the two Slytherins were behind in their detention work from the “Ravenclaw Incident,” as the headmistress called it, and now they were working hard to finish by her imposed deadline. The potions had been made, the time spent with McGonagall completed, but there were essays to write and both boys hated putting quill to parchment.
“How should I say that the ritual needs two parts to make it work?” Scorpius complained and Albus squinted at his work.
“Fusion.” the dark haired boy said. “Explain that the fusion of the two opposing types of magic are what bonds the magic in a special way.”
“Is that how you put it?”
“No. That would be cheating, Scorpius. You have to say it a different way, or she'll think we copied. Now, what do you think is more important in a hex/potion ritual? The hex or the potion?”
Scorpius considered the ceiling for a bit, then smiled. “The victims.” he said and the two boys broke into chortles and giggles.

“I need to go out. I'll be back in a few hours, long before your next potion, but take this.” Harry handed Draco a coin and the blond rolled it over in front of his face. One side was a chimaera and the other a palm tree lined oasis. “If you need me to come home, but it's not an emergency, rub the tree side. For actual dire need, squeeze it. That gives me a ten second warning before it portkeys me home.” Harry held up an identical coin and popped it into his jeans pocket. “Unless it's an emergency, please don't.”
“I got it, Potter. Rub, don't squeeze.” the words went right to someplace they shouldn't and Harry cleared his throat.
“Right. I'll be home soon. If anyone comes here, just keep quiet. No one knows you're here, except Jimmie and Montague, so they won't come upstairs.” And Harry rushed out of the room to hurry down to the floo. He had just five minutes left when he dropped the powder and called out his destination. He arrived with more style than he had in the past, but his current audience didn't much care how he managed floo travel.
“You were almost late.” the man stated and Harry smiled out of sight.
“Sorry. I had . . . things to attend to that required a more cautious exit.”
“You are referring to your house guest?” the man asked and Harry rolled his eyes as he responded.
“Yeah. Malfoy is staying at Grimmauld.”
“I do believe you may have finally lost your mind, Mr. Potter.”
“It's possible. So, what's on our schedule for today, Sir.” Harry steered the subject away, not wanting to let things escalate and not wanting to defend himself on the topic.
“Today, we work on fine motor skills. After that, we can return to potions, for a bit.”
“I like that plan, Sir. I'll get the tools.” and he hurried to the cabinet where the instruments needed to strengthen the man's fingers, as well as for hand-eye coordination, were kept. Once they were set up, Harry pushed the magic chair over and lined it up with the table so that the tools were within easy access. He sat opposite and they began to work.
Draco pulled out the copy of Potions for Advanced Healing and reread the entirety of chapter four. It still bothered him that Potter had fooled with a potion, especially one as advanced and dangerous as Necromantilla. Even though she was capable, surely Granger would never fool around with something of this type. The arts of dealing with the dead were outlawed for good reasons, and this was bordering on those arts.
He had to admit it was fascinating, in theory, but to actually go beyond the study seemed reckless.
“Well, they are Gryffindors.” he reminded himself.
He turned the page to chapter five, deciding to use the books as Potter had suggested, for reacquainting himself with rare and unique runes. It was thrilling to have access to the books, since his family's library was one of the first things the Ministry had impounded.
This chapter discussed the ways that a potion called Inguardia could help patients with advanced cases of something called Laurel's Disease. Draco didn't recognise it, so he read on.

Harry was just coming through the floo in the Atrium when a memo bird landed on his shoulder. He opened the paper and read it quickly before it burst into flames and the ashes floated away. He hurried through the halls, down two flights of stairs and into the direct lift to the lowest floor. Once there, he navigated the cubicles until he stood in front of Percy's desk and dropped into a chair.
“You called, Brother?”
“Yeah. I did. What are you trying to do? I'm feeling the flame, Brother. It's about this high and burning my ass. Literally.” Percy held his hand out, palm down to illustrate and Harry sat up and got serious.
“What's happening, Perce?” he asked and the red-head leaned forward.
“Heat. Like I said. People are antsy, especially when the names: Malfoy, Greengrass or Harrison are passed around. They're tense around Flint, Montague, Rhodes and Fitsimmons, too. What have you got your fingers in, Harry?”
“I wasn't positive until you started talking, but I think this may be as big as the Wizengamut's vault. Conspiracy, Perce. This could be your ticket to a piece of the pie, if you work with me and keep your nose clean. Tell me this - Do you know anything about the Ministry forcing pures out of their homes so that they can undermine Named Line Residency?”
“No. I thought that only counted when there was no litigation.”
“Nope. The property is clear of litigation, unless the family chooses to sell and pay debts with the proceeds.” Harry looked around, but Percy shook his head and indicated his wand where it lay on his desk. “I think the Ministry has stolen property, to sell for Recompensation, and let it disappear from the buyers, so that they can sell it again when they've stolen the properties from the rightful owners.”
“But, if they've been ordered to repay debts, then the property in question is forfeit.” Percy surmised.
“Nope, again. The families have the right to sell what they want to pay those debts and they have a guaranteed decade to begin doing that. In that time, most high-born pures could have made the money to pay the debt without selling anything. Plus, they would have access to their homes, their belongings, their lifestyles, while they do it. This isn't like that, is it?”
“You got that right. Most pures who intermarry are hardly living the good life.” Percy scowled and Harry knew it was in reference to his girlfriend of many years, Penelope Clearwater, who had decided to marry another man so that she could assure herself that she would not be bound by the pureblood rules that might affect Percy and his family.
Oddly, her being a half-blood, like Harry, meant that she could marry who she wanted and none of this would have touched her. Instead, she married Cormac McLaggen and was now finding out that his ideas bordered on much of what Harry and the Order had fought against, but with a twist that kept him from persecution. Cormac hated all other Pures, even though he was technically one of them. His job, as deputy headmaster of Hogwarts, meant that he could subvert the young people with anti-pure rhetoric and, so long as he wasn't caught, issue house points for pure-blood bating.
Trouble was, he had never been caught, so Harry and Percy's hands were tied.
“Any other names being red flagged?” Harry asked and Percy smiled.
“Oh, yeah. We got quite a list. Not a muggleborn on it, either. Where you wanna start?”
“Start at the top. The closest ones to me.” Harry said and Percy pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write. Harry sat back and waited, his mind spinning and his eyes hard.
Briarly Fletcher pulled her robes up and adjusted the hood so that only her nose was visible to most of the people around her. She strode with purpose through the halls until she reached the door that was her next destination. Her steps led her up an incline and over the crest of the rise that marked the border to the zone where gravity got a bit wonky.
At the end of the rampway, Briarly opened the door, stepped through and found herself hanging upside down, in a room that resembled the inside of an aquarium. The floating fish, or at least that's what they looked like, were only dangerous if one had an open wound, or smelled of blood. She walked across the ceiling to the opposite door and went through.
Here, where the world repositioned on its side, Briarly walked a long corridor with cubby rooms spaced equally along its walls. Inside them were the patients. Twenty witches or wizards, in various stages of disease, damage or curses, recovered, died or changed, all under the watchful eye of the unspeakable researchers.
Once a person made it to this corridor, though, there was little chance for them. Only one in a hundred or so ever left here the way they had been.
Near the other end, Briarly stopped at an empty cubby, cleaned and ready for its next victim, and she picked up the scroll that hung from the peg. The name was plain as day, the date visible and precise, and Briarly clenched her fist under the long sleeves of her robes.
They had only five days before Astoria Malfoy would be installed in this chamber, or they would have to forget about saving the woman at all. She replaced the scroll, checked some of the others, just to keep up appearances, because one never knew if one was being watched, and then she continued on, through the door at the other end and out into the section she had hoped was the chosen destination for Mrs. Malfoy.
The room beyond was where new forms of medicine were tested. Potions that were experimental, but not so dangerous that a patient's family might never see them again. The treatment either worked, or at least gave an extended life without harmful side effects.
Most of the treatments here went on to become the standards for St. Mungos and other facilities, and this was the magic that Briarly had thought would give her the ability to pay off the life debts she had accrued, but instead she found that these patients were elite, or wealthy, the people who could afford to pay, who the public clamored to have healthy and who just didn't like the inconvenience of illness.
The truly ill, the needy were usually shipped off to the hall where they faded into obscurity and their deaths were ignored by everyone except the madmen and women who conducted the experiments on them, and took the notes that were their swan song.
The whole matter made Briarly sick.
Once through the ward, the unspeakable woman made haste to her desk, completed some paperwork, all of which would evaporate within two months, and then proceeded to her practical work. She was required to observe the brewing of several elixirs that were sold to the Ministry for clandestine operations.
Delivery of one of these brews was how she had first met Percy Weasley.
AN: I couldn't find reference to Cormac's heredity, so I'm putting him as an arrogant pure-blood. He can just deal.
Review Responses:
Kain: Not trying for the traditional Ginny Cheats. Hers was a one-time thing, but because of it she won't be able to take the high road. Hope you are more appeased.
JezeBelDK: Glad to have you among my readers. I love to hear from someone who watches for details, since I am devoted to them. Yes, Lucius was involved in the orders given to the elves, which included not saving him from the Kiss. Narcissa knows he's been kissed, but her language would not show him as deleted from her mind. She, or Draco, could order the elves to return, but specific wording would be involved. He didn't know it. More info on the elves is coming, okay?
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No Outlet for Anger