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The Only True Lords	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 54573 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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Chapter Eight--Auror Responses

            "Mr. Potter, we have to speak to you."

            Harry halted in the middle of the staircase and put his chin up, trying to do it haughtily. He could feel Hermione and Ron coming to a stop on either side of him, putting their hands on his shoulders. That should present a more impressive picture, he hoped. But then he remembered something else and arranged his arms so that everyone who was coming up the stairs beneath him could see the silver shield.

            The nearest Auror faltered a little, and Harry smiled. He hated that he had to do this, really, to think all the time about how other people would take things and what they would think of him, but it seemed to be connected with the Lordship bond down to its very roots, from what Hermione had told him. Besides, he probably would have had to do it anyway. What the Boy-Who-Lived did and thought was important to the public, too, and Harry wouldn't want to get one of his friends in trouble because he'd ignored basic caution.

            "I must insist that you listen to us," said the lead Auror, a tall, burly man in flowing robes with gold trim on them.

            "I haven't refused yet," Harry said. He felt Hermione tense beside him, and then relax again. He wanted to snort at her. He had some basic common sense. It included the right thing to say about stupid accusations like the ones the Auror was making. Besides, this was all the sort of thing that Harry would have said to Uncle Vernon and Snape more often if he didn't have to watch his tongue. "Could you tell me your names?"

            "Steerforth Umson," said the Auror, with a sigh at the end of the words, as if it was just too much that Harry should want to know his name. "These are my colleagues, Aurors Stephanie McAnders and Hugh Refortson." He waved his hand at the two behind him, a sharp-faced, alert woman and a man so tall that Harry had to keep from shrinking back. "But you need to know that several of your vassals are going to be charged with Death Eater crimes."

            Here it is.

            It was a more severe challenge than Harry had expected to face, and sooner. But he didn't let a muscle change in his face as he said, "Which ones?"

            Umson frowned at him. He had bright red-gold hair and blue eyes that Harry might have trusted if he had met them under different circumstances. "What do you mean?"

            "Which of my Slytherins are going to be charged with Death Eater crimes?" Harry repeated patiently. "I don't think it's all of them."

            Auror Umson drew himself up and folded his arms. "Well, Professor Severus Snape, of course," he said. "I think you'll agree that his crimes committed during his time as Hogwarts Headmaster were simply reprehensible."

            Harry smiled at him. "I'll thank you not to assume what I think before I tell you," he said, and Auror Umson looked as if he wanted to fall down the stairs. "Who else?"

            Umson hesitated once more. Harry wanted to smirk, except that would have made him look more like a Slytherin than he cared to. He's not sure who's Marked and who's not. Except that he knows all of them are Marked by me, now, and mine.

            The word flared in his mind like dragonsbreath, hot and killing. Harry paused and did his best to step back from that. He had to protect his vassals, said the bond that dangled and looped through the back of his mind, but he wouldn't do them any good if he was too angry to pay attention to what his opponents actually said.

            "Well, Draco Malfoy, of course," Umson said at last. He was watching Harry's face as if waiting for cues. Harry didn't call attention to that. It would be more fun if Umson realized it on his own. "And Pansy Parkinson, since she wanted to throw you to the Dark Lord."

            "Pansy Parkinson doesn't bear the Dark Mark," Harry said, calmly.

            Umson rocked to a stop and stood blinking up at him. Then he said, "You would know this, how?"

            Harry let his hand rest on the silver shield mark. Warmth flared from it, and for a moment, he thought he saw green lines joining the five green dots that represented his vassals. He didn't know what that meant, but he didn't allow himself to jump in the air the way he wanted to. He looked at Umson and said, "How do I know anything about any of my vassals?"

            Umson fell back a small step from him. Harry bowed and took his hand off his shield mark, hoping that the little gesture didn't show how badly his heart was thumping. I'm standing up to the Ministry. For a bunch of people I don't even like.

            But they would have to have trials if he didn't defend them, and that would just make everything messier. And the Ministry would probably do things to them that they didn't deserve, if they were ignorant enough to think that Parkinson was one of the Death Eaters.

            "I don't understand," said McAnders from beyond Umson's shoulder. "Pansy Parkinson wanted to throw you to You-Know-Who."

            "She did," Harry agreed easily, "but she was never Marked by him. That was one reason she was so afraid of him." He paused, but these Aurors had attacked him before they asked anything and accused him of not listening when they hadn't asked a single question. He thought it was time to push. "As you would have known if you thought about it. Voldemort would have rewarded a Death Eater who wanted to deliver me up to him, and she would have been smarter to keep quiet about it instead of suggesting it as a last resort. Then she could have tried later and probably succeeded."

            All three of them flinched at Voldemort's name, which Harry had to admit was satisfying. Then Umson said, mounting another step, "But when we find those who have the Dark Mark, we will take them into custody."

            "Even knowing I'm their Lord?" Harry felt a sharp wave of something like nausea in his stomach as he said that, but he'd said it, aloud, in public, for the first time. It was violent enough to be nausea, anyway, but hard to characterize. "You know that will involve me having to come and testify for them, and talk about their accommodations. Why are you arresting anyone with the Dark Mark, anyway?"

            Umson glared at him. "Why do you think?"

            "I think that you should be a bit more polite to my Lord."

            Harry had felt Malfoy come up from the dungeons, the vibrant, poison-green dot that represented him drawing closer and closer, but he had thought he would lurk in the shadows to see what happened, not speak aloud. The Aurors turned around with jaws dangling as Malfoy walked into the center of the entrance hall. He eyed them all distantly, until his gaze fell on Harry.

            Then he bowed, and held up his right arm, where the silver shield gleamed. He was smart enough to keep his left arm wrapped in his sleeve, Harry saw. "My Lord. What are your commands?"

            Er, right, Harry thought, mind gone blank for a moment. But he shook himself and moved down the steps. For a second, he feared the Aurors would stand in his way, but they parted at a sharp word from Umson. He seemed to know the consequences of obstructing a Lord on the way to his vassal.

            Malfoy dropped to one knee as Harry came nearer. The sight made Harry's shield mark fill his arm with gentle heat as part of him accepted the submission.

            But the rest of him didn't, and he cleared his throat and said, "First, that you get back on your feet. You don't have to--you shouldn't have to do that."

            Malfoy took a second to rise, though, and stood with his head bowed when he did. "But what if I want to?" he whispered. "What if I think acknowledging my Lord is the right thing to do?" He darted Harry a glance under lowered lashes.

            Fuck, he's going to make his obedience as bloody difficult as his rebellion would be, isn't he? Harry wanted to close his eyes and walk back to bed.

            But that would make things difficult in a different way, so instead, he sighed, nodded, and said, "If you think this is the right thing to do, I don't really mind." Malfoy's smile was really a smirk. Harry decided to ignore it. "But second, did any of these Aurors question you this morning?"

            "No, my Lord." Harry was going to want to cut Malfoy's head off if the idiot kept calling him that, he thought, but he knew from all the books Hermione had brought him that it was the proper form of address. So he stood there biting his lip while Malfoy continued. "I heard them talking. They thought to simply arrest me and Professor Severus Snape and have done with it, but then they remembered about the Lordship and your status as Savior. That could make things awkward. Then they decided to speak with you."

            Harry stared at him. But there was no sign that Malfoy was lying, and Harry was sure he would know, the same way he had known that Zabini was on his way to the Forbidden Forest.

            He turned around to Umson. The tall Auror stood there with his arms folded and his face motionless, but Harry could see the way his hand clenched on his wand, which lay along his left arm right now.

            "Do you have no sense?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Everyone keeps telling me how important this Lordship bond is, even though I've never heard of it before, and I need to be careful and act like an adult and make sure I do my best. But you are adults, and people with a lot more experience than me. Shouldn't you know about Lordship bonds? Shouldn't you know that you can't just haul my vassals away to prison?"

            Umson turned red. McAnders leaned over his shoulder and said, "It's even more important that Death Eaters are arrested."

            "Who decides that?" Harry demanded. He could feel his face flushing up to his ears now, and he knew he probably looked stupid, with his cheeks all red and his hair practically standing on end. But not all of this was the bond. People kept putting him in important positions and then ignoring what they told him was the consequence of those positions. It was the same thing that made them all condemn him as Dark even though he was supposedly also the greatest enemy of the Dark that ever lived. Well, it was inconsistent and hypocritical and Harry was tired of it. "Why did you decide it was more important? Hell, do you even have all the people who served Voldemort out of your Ministry? There were a lot there who were taken over, but others who went along willingly. Umbridge's name comes to mind."

            "The Undersecretary to the Minister does not have a Dark Mark on her arm," said McAnders.

            "No, she only ran the committee that questioned Muggleborns about whether they'd stolen pure-bloods' wands," Harry snapped. "I'm sure that she's as innocent as I am."

            The Aurors paused again. Harry wondered what the hell they'd been expecting. Someone who was meek and compliant? Hearing about the way he jumped in front of Voldemort's curse and the Lordship bond immediately grabbed him should cure them of that. Or maybe they had just thought they would overwhelm him and he would give in because he wasn't sure of the right thing to do.

            Luckily, both the part of himself that was really him and the bond were agreed on this. The right thing to do was insist on formal arrests if they were going to make them, and of people who had the Dark Mark, not smuggling people away in the night.

            “We should check that young Mr. Malfoy does not have a Mark on his left arm, at least,” said McAnders.

            “Then you should ask to check,” Harry said. “The way you would with anyone else. You should give him the same courtesy you’re giving other people. And you need to ask both me and him.”

            He turned to Malfoy. Malfoy glanced at him briefly, and then returned his eyes to the floor. He did that gracefully, Harry had to admit. That was another thing that made him want to sigh. Malfoy knew so much more about this than he did, and if he adopted a deferential posture all the way through, then Harry would sort of have to let him get away with that.

            “What do you think?” Harry asked. “Do you want them to check your left arm?”

*



            Draco wanted to whimper and run away, that was what he wanted to do.

            But he reminded himself, with a shiver that seemed to run down his spine, that the Dark Lord was gone, and no one could force him, again, to yield to him. There would be other terrifying things in the future, but they couldn’t carry the same level of terror. There was simply no way.

            And he was in public now, not in private in his house or in his bed in Slytherin, where he might get away with acting like a coward. He swallowed and looked up, and said, “I don’t want them to check. But I will let them if you order me to, my Lord.”

            Potter’s hair was going to come out of his scalp if he kept tugging on it like that.

            He glanced back and forth between Draco and the Aurors, and then swore a little, and said, “Let them check.”

            Draco kept his face still as he extended his left arm. He wondered why it mattered to him so much. Everyone involved already knew what they wound find. But it had mattered that he make Potter say that.

            That’s probably the bond making me do it.

            Draco would have shrugged if he was in private with his parents, or even with Potter—a somewhat startling realization. He had to live with the bond, and if he spent the rest of his life trying to pick apart what was “really” himself and what was the subtle influence of the bond, he thought he would go mad. He preferred to see what advantages he could get out of this and acquire those advantages as soon as possible.

            The tall Auror, Umson, strode forwards and pushed back the sleeve on his left arm. In doing so, he evidently decided that Draco’s arm wasn’t in a good enough position for him, and shoved it around rather rudely.

            Draco winced.

            Potter had his wand out in what seemed no time at all, pointing directly at Umson, and his friends had backed him up. As Draco studied them and tried not to seem like he was gaping, Potter said, in a deep, low voice that Draco had never heard him use, “I granted you permission to check his arm. I did not grant you permission to hurt him.”

            “He’s hurt others,” said the tallest Auror of all, whose name Draco didn’t remember. “He deserves a slight return on that investment, don’t you think?”

            Potter smiled nastily at the tall man and turned his wand fully on him. “And what if I were to demand a return on my investment in saving people? How many Muggleborn victims of the Ministry did you save during the last year, Auror Refortson? I’m waiting for an answer,” he added, as Refortson paused.

            I’ll remember your name, Draco told him, with silent eyes and a sweet smile. I’m sure that I’ll be able to do something about you sooner or later. My Lord might not block me. He might even help me.

            “I have done what I could to help rescue people,” said Refortson. “But you know what the Ministry has been in the past year, and how difficult that was.”

            “In the meantime,” said Umson, his eyes fixed on Draco’s left arm where the Dark Mark blazed, “we can arrest young Mr. Malfoy. With your permission, Lord Potter?” His tone made a mockery of the title.

            Draco stiffened in Umson’s hold, but he sincerely doubted that Umson had noticed. He noticedd, though, when Potter said, “Where are you going to hold him?”

            “In Azkaban, of course,” said Umson. “All those with the Dark Mark deserve at least that measure of confinement.”

            Potter sighed. “So you’re going back to the way the Ministry always worked, with generalizations, and a refusal to consider individual cases. Everyone is guilty, and everyone is guilty of the same crimes. That’s what matters, isn’t it? It would be too much effort for you to investigate and decide what Mr. Malfoy has done, and what Professor Snape has done, and what Lucius Malfoy has done.”

            Umson straightened, probably realizing how bad Draco’s Lord was making him look. “Of course I would be delighted with specifics,” he said. “But it would take time to round those up and—”

            “So you prefer to arrest someone without knowing exactly what they did?” Potter asked in interest. Draco thought he could hear Weasley snicker behind him.

            “That’s not what I meant,” Umson said, throwing a sharp glance over his shoulder at the other two Aurors when they would have said something. “I meant that a Dark Mark is an admission of guilt in the first place, and we can decide what charges to press once we have them safely in custody.”

            “Then you must take us as well.”

            Draco glanced over his shoulder; he couldn’t turn further because Umson was holding his arm at such an awkward angle. He swallowed when he saw his parents walking up the staircase from the dungeons, although how they’d got there, Draco didn’t know. His father had his arm around Narcissa’s waist, and both of them were pale. But Lucius held out his left arm with a faint smile.

            “You can arrest us right away, since we have no Lord to protect us and insist that we be treated with dignity,” Lucius added. “And perhaps we may spend months in the cells before you find the proper charges, but that’s the way that the Ministry works in war, isn’t it? The most efficient method.”

            Draco turned around as he felt emotions eddy and churn in the back of his head. He didn’t think they were his own, no matter how much his heart shriveled at the thought that his parents might go to prison. They had come down here of their own free will, which meant that Lucius, at least, must have decided the risk was worth taking.

            Granger was whispering fiercely to Potter. Potter raised his eyebrows at her and pointed to the shield mark on his arm. Granger nodded. Potter shrugged and turned around, but not before Draco saw the grin he was working to hide.

            “What about releasing them on my word?” Potter asked. “Or at least holding them in cells in the Ministry, rather than Azkaban.”

            Umson shut his eyes. Draco felt his lungs rattle with a long breath, since the Auror was still hanging onto his arm. “What do you mean, sir?” Umson asked, his voice low and exquisitely polite.

            “It’s just, I’m new at this Lordship business, and my friend Hermione reminded me of something,” Potter said. A new Sickle wouldn’t have outsparkled the innocence in his voice. “She told me that Lords can pledge their word for someone else. Mostly, those are vassals, because he has the power to punish them if they disobey, but they can extend their protection to vassals’ families. So Mr. Malfoy and his family could stay free, as long as I pledged my word to stand surety for them. If they fled the country or cursed someone else, then I would be responsible for that. I could even go to prison myself. What do you think? Is it a good solution?”

            Not for Umson, Draco thought, and had to work to keep his glee off his face. Because if that actually happened, Umson would have to take a chance on arresting the Boy-Who-Lived.

            “We would have to discuss exactly what you are promising,” Umson said, after clearing his throat uncomfortably for a few seconds and seeming to wait for Potter to decide that he was joking, “and for whom. And why you are so desperate to keep some of your vassals out of Azkaban.”

            Potter abruptly stood straighter, and although he’d lowered his wand while he spoke to Granger, he raised it again now. “Because my godfather endured twelve years in Azkaban, and I saw what it did to him,” he hissed. “And he didn’t get a trial. He got condemned by public opinion. I’m not going to have the same thing happen to people I’m responsible for protecting. Understand?”

            Umson nodded, because he couldn’t do much else, really. Other people were starting to wander into the entrance hall, and pausing to stare at the spectacle. Draco couldn’t blame them. Umson probably wouldn’t have started this if he’d thought Potter would object. Obviously, he had expected Potter to jump at the chance to be rid of those awful Slytherins he was bonded to.

            “Fine,” Umson said, bowing from the waist as though to a powerful official in the Ministry. Potter accepted it without comment, maybe because he was watching Draco and Lucius. Umson’s mouth tightened, and Draco made a mental note to keep an eye on him. He seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t take being embarrassed by the Boy-Who-Lived lightly, even if it was mostly his own fault. “We cannot let them go, but we will take them to holding cells in the Ministry instead of Azkaban, provided that you understand you will be liable to go to Azkaban if any of them escape.”

            Granger grabbed Potter’s arm at that, and Weasley leaned near him, muttering something about “Dementors.” Draco curled his lip. Yes, he remembered how susceptible Potter had been to Dementors in their third year, but it wasn’t the kind of weakness that you wanted to announce to all and sundry.

            “Good,” Potter said. “I’ll stand surety for Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Professor Severus Snape, and Gregory Goyle.”

            “Any other Death Eaters you want to rescue?” muttered Refortson, shaking his head. Disgust on him was probably more intimidating than it would be from the others, since he was so tall, but Potter just looked at him without much interest and shook his head.

            “I think the rest of them wouldn’t be interested in pledging to me even if I was interested in accepting them,” Potter said, and left Refortson there to look foolish because of his foolish question, while he turned back to Draco. “What about you, Malfoy? Will you pledge to remain true to your word and go quietly to the holding cells?”

            Draco bowed a little, and said, “I pledge my word.”

            “You have mine, as well,” Lucius said from behind him.

            “And mine,” said Narcissa, and Draco heard the graceful rustling as his parents knelt.

            “Good,” Potter said, staring around in a distracted way. “Now I suppose I only need to find out what Professor Snape and Goyle think—”

            “I will answer for Mr. Goyle, who is too traumatized to do it himself,” said Professor Snape. Draco started. He had assumed that he could feel people in the bond the way he was starting to feel Potter, but Snape had once again sneaked up behind him. He was leading Greg by the arm, Draco saw. “We pledge our words.”

            He bowed his head, but not before Draco saw him flash a quick and probably ironic glance at Potter. Potter looked back with a faint downturn of his mouth, but nothing more.

            Then he stepped up to the Draco and whispered, “Stay strong. I won’t let them hold you indefinitely.”

            That should have been far less comfort than it was, but Draco left with a light heart, even turning his head to watch Potter and his friends head in the direction of the Great Hall. The shield mark on his arm pulsed with warmth again.

            No, having someone who can protect me even after I leave home isn’t all that bad.

*

            kain: Thanks! I think Harry is walking a good line so far. But he’s going to make some pretty major mistakes soon.

            Sasunarufan13: Thanks!

            They either died when they were releasing the vassals or when the bond broke. It’s not clear.

            At the moment, Harry thinks Draco is very annoying, even as he helps.

            SP777: Draco is changing his mind about just acting like a sulky little kid all the time.

            delia cerrano: That’s certainly the place Draco is aiming for, or as close to it as he can get when he doesn’t have any idea if Harry is gay yet.

            Genuka: Thanks! I know that some people who have accounts can recommend stories, but I don’t know any other method.
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The Only True Lords