Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Stag and The Snake	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9 – Preparations

They had arrived at King's Cross Station far too quickly for Harry's taste. He had gone over the details of the contract with Ron and Hermione at least half a dozen times, after he had finished berating the memory of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione vehemently defended the barmy old codger, while Ron acted as referee.

Hermione had been adamant that there had to be a way to break the contract safely, while Ron scoffed and offered helpful commentary. “Yeah, brilliant. If you want to off Harry then go right ahead.” Hermione's frustration would flare, and Harry watched the pair of them get caught up in their own bickering match. Harry sank back into his seat, and waited for their anger to burn out.

Harry got off the train, his gloom hanging over his head like a rain cloud. He did not fail to notice his friends watching him like one might watch the last walk of a condemned man. Draco exited the train two cars over, and in his peripheral vision he saw Ron lurch forward. He and Hermione, both sensing the danger, reached out to grab him. “Don't,” Harry muttered to him, determinedly not looking over to Draco, “it's not worth it.”

“You probably won't need to Bond with the git if he's dead,” Ron said in protest, “or at least horribly disfigured.” Harry snorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“C'mon,” he mumbled, and led the way to the barrier.

Outside he found Sirius and Remus waiting for him, and despite the ever-present melancholy that had plagued him since early that morning, he couldn't help but smile. It was a nice feeling to see people happy to see him, instead of the slumped form of Uncle Vernon waiting to take him “home” for several weeks of misery.

“Harry,” Sirius said in greeting, pulling him in for a one-armed hug, “end of term went well?”

“You mean despite a certain someone's pestering and nagging?” Harry grinned at Sirius's abashed smile. Remus chuckled, watching the exchange with his arms crossed. He nodded over Harry's shoulder, and he saw Ron and Hermione come into view behind him. The group shifted out of the way of the barrier, his two friends looking slightly apprehensive, as if they didn't know what to say.

“They know,” Harry filled in after a moment of awkward silence. Sirius had stepped back, and he exchanged a look of mild surprise with Remus. They both looked over to his friends, who gazed back at his guardians with questioning and angry looks. Sirius deflated a little, and his guilt was obvious to Harry, though he wasn't entirely certain if Ron and Hermione had noticed.

“If it makes you both feel any better, we want this about as much as you two do. I suppose it doesn't look that way because Remus and I have had time to get used to the idea.” Remus reached out and clasped Sirius's hand, and Harry did not fail to notice more than a few Muggles turn their way with a scowl of disapproval. “But Ron, you at least understand the implications of breaking the contract at this stage. It could kill Harry, Draco, or both of them.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but Ron gave her a significant look and for once, she fell silent. “I think I'd be more okay with it if he wasn't gonna be Bonded to an evil git.”

Harry and Sirius both snorted with repressed laughter at the same time. “I'll try and get you invites to this Lughnasadh thing,” he said, cringing inward slightly at the words. “It'd be nice to have someone around that isn't a prejudiced bastard.”

“We'd love to,” Hermione said, smiling warmly, while she reached in for a tight hug. For a split second, Harry worried that she might not let go, but then she pulled back. He could see how forced the smile was, and her eyes looked so sad to Harry, that he felt his stomach twist guiltily. “There's mum and dad, I better go. Write me this summer, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Harry smiled and watched her hurry off towards her parents. He then noticed a cluster of flaming red hair coming towards them, and he smiled as he recognized Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, Ginny, Fred, and George.

“Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley said in greeting, pulling him in for a warm hug. “Did you have a good term?” She asked as she pulled back.

“I—yeah, it was fine.” He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but her eyes still looked a little sad. Did she know?

“I know you have a busy summer ahead of you, but do try and come visit us dear. We'd love to have you again.” The twins exchanged muted smirks, and Harry felt his stomach drop a little. Yep, he thought to himself, they definitely know.

“I'd like that Mrs Weasley,” he said, meaning it. She smiled at him, and pulled him in for another hug.

“Take care of yourself Harry,” Mr Weasley said, reaching out to grab his shoulder, and Harry nodded, hoping his smile appeared more genuine than it felt. Mr Weasley released his shoulder and he shook hands with both Sirius and Remus, before bidding him one last farewell as the family turned and headed towards the exits. Ron turned back once, and offered him a small smile.

“C'mon Harry,” Sirius said with a small grin, grasping his shoulder, “let's go home.” Harry smiled, and felt some of his gloom leave him at those words.

~*~

The trip home was much faster than normal, now that Harry could legally apparate. He felt entirely drained from his conversation on the train, but more than that he felt almost as though he was in a state of shock. He often forgot how gay couples in the wizarding world were a nonissue, and when they readily accepted that part of his revelation so readily, it had taken him more than a few moments to re-acclimate himself, especially after trying to ignore all the nasty looks the Muggles at King's Cross had shot towards Sirius and Remus.

Sirius helped Harry carry his trunk inside the building, then Harry used a levitation charm to manoeuvre it up the many flights of stairs and into the flat.

The inside was just how Harry had remembered it. Mismatched armchairs and a threadbare sofa before a crackling fire, old and fraying carpets covering the cold stone, and a warm feeling of home. Harry could also smell something wonderful. He loved Remus's cooking, which almost put Mrs Weasley's to shame—not that he was ever brave enough to ever tell her so.

“Hungry?” Sirius asked as he set Harry's trunk next to the door. Harry placed Hedwig down next to it, opened the cage door and she fluttered out to join Archimedes on top of one of the bookcases. The ancient, half blind owl squawked and clicked his beak irritably at Hedwig before they both settled down.

“Starving,” he replied with a small grin. “What's on? It smells great.” He fell into step with Sirius, and saw a large serving pot of lamb stew on the table, charmed to stay hot and a loaf of fresh bread. Next to his usual place setting was a small square something, wrapped roughly in light brown paper. He turned to look at them, then reached over to pick up the small parcel. “What's this?”

“Something of a welcome home present,” Sirius said, his mouth twitching a little in the corners. “Go on, open it.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, then tore away the paper. In his hands was a journal with a glossy leather cover, though after a moment he realized it wasn't leather, but dragonhide. He undid the clasp that held it closed to look inside, and indented in gold on the inside cover were the initials, 'H.J.P.L.B'. Harry blinked in confusion, then looked back up to the pair.

“What...?” He didn't know exactly what he wanted to ask.

Neither of the men answered for a moment, then Sirius reached inside his robes and pulled out a slightly creased scroll of parchment. “You're technically of age, but we've been wanting to do this for a long time...” he passed the scroll to Harry for him to read, and he nearly dropped the journal in his hands from shock. The parchment was a Ministry form, and across the top it read, 'Petition for Adoption'. “Since you're an adult, we'd need your consent.” Sirius's tone did not completely conceal his nervousness.

Instead of answering, Harry sat down with the form and his new journal, opened it to the first page, and grabbed a self-inking quill off the counter.

“Today,” Harry said as he wrote, “Sirius and Remus asked me to be their son,” he paused and looked up at them. “And I said yes.”

It was the best night of Harry's life. He ate, drank and celebrated with his new, official, legal family. Not just guardians, not just in name. They sent off Hedwig with the signed papers, and Harry had never before felt such excitement in sending off owl post. Remus rounded off the evening with a celebratory toast of expensive champagne and a sumptuous opera cake, and Sirius shot off a few close-range fireworks with his wand.

Harry went to bed that night exhausted but perfectly happy for the first time in weeks. He promised himself to remember to send Hedwig to Ron and Hermione with the news when she got back.

~*~

As the Summer began to progress, Harry's joy began to ebb, and his dread returned. It was just over a month until the Ball where his Bonding would be announced. Sirius and Remus punctuated his lazy summer relaxation with classical dance lessons, fussing over the perfect dress robes for the occasion, and his morning lie-ins were interrupted more than once by howlers from Lucius as the two sets of parents argued over whom to invite.

He was grateful that he had Ron and Hermione to vent to, even if they had no idea how to advise him. More than once, it stopped him from following through with his burning desire to suffocate the pair of them with a pillow.

“Harry,” Sirius, Remus, or the pair of them had told him on more than one occasion, “this evening is extremely important. It's essential that you make the right impression.” Not that their incessant nagging made the whole ordeal any easier. No word of the so-called 'main event' of the evening had made the papers. The Ball had been mentioned several times, and Harry supposed someone—Lucius most likely—was forcing the Prophet to keep it quiet. Harry was grateful for that, he was definitely not looking forward to the paparazzi firestorm that would inevitably follow the announcement.

Halfway through July, Harry found himself standing on a small stool in the centre of the sitting room, an enormous pile of dress robes draped over the sofa, with Madam Malkin tutting and circling him, while Sirius and Remus stood out of hexing reach (after Harry had hit them both with a particularly well-aimed Silencing Charm) and threw in comments and criticism.

“No, the red is too flashy...”

“It needs to be tighter across the chest...”

“Are you sure the neckline isn't too deep?”

“No sequins, Remus!”

“Would you two stop?” Harry finally snapped at the pair of them, after shrugging out of a particularly itchy and tight set of robes. “I'm not a bloody doll. Draco and I won't like each other any better even if we're both in designer robes.” He shuddered a little as images of what he assumed a wizarding fashion show would look like, with himself in various horrid 'fashion' robes.

“All right, sorry Harry,” Remus smirked a little at his outburst. It was a strange expression to see on a man that was normally so zen. Harry had no idea what that expression was supposed to mean, but he resigned himself to trying on more clothes than he probably ever had in his entire life. Sirius and Remus nodded or shook their heads at each new outfit he was supposed to try, though they offered no more remarks.

Harry almost cheered when he was told he could get down. He rushed into his T-shirt and jeans before anyone could change their minds. Madam Malkin flicked her wand to arrange the robes in a neat stack, and shrunk them to the size of a glove before stowing them in a drawstring bag. “Gentlemen,” she said, nodding to each of them in turn, “I will go over the adjustments you wanted, and I will be in touch next week.” She smiled at Harry, and he felt his face tint pink when he saw her eyes flick momentarily to his scar.

“I can't wait,” Harry muttered, and he was relieved when the elderly witch finally took her leave.

~*~

“Harry, I know it's not exactly fun but don't you think you're being a little, well, overdramatic?” Harry was sitting in his bedroom with the door shut. Ron and Hermione were sitting across from him, a jar of Hermione's trademark blue flames crackling merrily in a jam jar between them.

“It's a nightmare Hermione, they're acting like Ron's mum did leading up to Bill and Fleur's wedding.” He looked up to watch their expressions shift from mild disbelief to outright horror. “Except about a hundred times worse. They keep dressing me up like a goddamn doll or something, as if Draco will like me any better in blue, or green, or whatever next horrific set of robes they make me try on.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, but neither spoke right away. Harry took the opportunity to fill the silence with more complaining. “Oh, guess what they're making me do next week? A makeover. Haircut, facial, manicure, pedicure...” he shuddered, “I'm starting to wonder if hexing them until this is all over isn't such a terrible idea, after all.” Hermione pursed his lips as Ron snickered next to her. After a moment, her face softening a little as Ron reached out and twisted a few of his fingers with hers.

“They just want you to look your best for your big night,” Ron said, unable to completely erase the amusement from his voice. Harry pelted him with a wrapped chocolate frog. He caught it with a small smirk, “and anyway, it's not so bad. Mum made Bill do all that before his wedding. It's not like they paint your nails magenta or anything, they just clean you up a bit, that's all.” This information made Harry relax a little, though he still didn't love the idea of a stranger pawing at his hands and feet for an hour.

Around midday, Remus knocked and came in with sandwiches, and Harry grinned and said, “thanks mum,” to his retreating figure. The comment earned him a light smack upside the head, while Ron snickered quietly.

“He hates it when I call him that,” Harry said with a grin as he helped himself to one of the sandwiches.

“I'll bet.” Ron said with another short laugh, though it was muffled by his overlarge mouthful of roast beef.

“Really,” Hermione said with a small huff, “you shouldn't do that Harry. It's really rude!”

“Do what?”

“Assign gender roles to Sirius and Remus as if one has to be the mother figure and the other has to be the father figure!”

“I'm not! If anything, Sirius is the mother hen here, but Remus does all the cooking like your mum does,” Harry said while nodding towards Ron, “it's just fun to poke fun at him about it from time to time, that's all. It's not like I actually mean anything by it.”

“Sirius? Really? I'd assume he'd be more...I dunno, gruff, or something.” Harry snorted at Hermione's statement.

“Yeah, I wish.”

Ron and Hermione stuck around for the rest of the day, making polite small talk over dinner with Sirius and Remus. They pointedly discussed anything but the enormous pile of dress robes Sirius had brought home with him. They stuck to safe topics instead—Hermione's plans to attend Muggle University, Ron's upcoming internship with the Auror Office, while skittering close to the topic of the upcoming Ball, but never actually going into it.

Harry was grateful for that, as beyond the upcoming Lughnasadh Ball—which still made him want to run away screaming—he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He hadn't had a whole lot of time to consider it, and while at one time he wanted to join the Aurors with Ron, now he wasn't so sure.

Remus and Sirius had reminded him on more than one occasion that he didn't have to choose right away, hinting that he wouldn't have to work if he didn't want to. The Malfoy fortune he would inherit would probably keep him set for life. The idea made Harry feel sick with a strange sense of guilt. He had always taken care of himself, more or less. He didn't like the idea of relying on anyone else like that.

When his friends had departed, Hermione Apparating and Ron travelling by Floo back to The Burrow. Harry suddenly found himself alone with his parents, a word that still sounded alien in his head, and a terrifying stack of robes. “Breathe, Harry,” Sirius said with an amused grin, “we'll go through those tomorrow, all right?”

'There is a God,' Harry thought in relief, and smiled a little at them. “Thanks. I'm gonna go read or something.” He slipped back into his room before they could change their minds and fell onto his bed. He rolled onto his side, left arm folded under his head, and he stared at the wardrobe across the room.

It was no longer the same beech wardrobe that had been there when he first arrived so many years before, and it had since been replaced with an oak one. There was a slight burn mark near the right handle, and there were indentations that had been varnished over, small reminders of the piece of furniture's age. Next to it, his trunk had been propped up. It had been emptied several weeks earlier, and looking at it now, Harry felt a strange pang of sadness. The trunk had seen him through the last seven years, and somehow knowing he wouldn't need it for the foreseeable future made him feel, if possible, even more depressed. He didn't move, but his eyes flicked across the belongings scattered around the room, feeling suddenly, strangely nostalgic at the sight of everything. Would this still be his home after August?

Harry dozed, but didn't exactly sleep. He had forgotten to take off his glasses, and they had left angry red lines near his temples. Groaning a bit, he sat up and took his glasses off, and set them down on the side table while he stretched, bones in his back and shoulders popping and cracking out their stiffness. He slipped off the bed and rubbed at the sore marks that had been left on his face, while he walked to his wardrobe. He fished out his pyjamas and had planned to go back to sleep, but he heard a loud objection that could only come from his godfather.

He paused to listen, but the muffled sounds of his and Remus's voices were suddenly too soft for Harry to hear clearly. While he knew he shouldn't, pulling the pyjamas on as he pondered indulging his curiosity, he also knew he couldn't resist. Padding silently to the door, he turned the handle as silently as he could and opened the door barely a crack, and a thin line of flickering firelight spread over his floor. The sound wasn't much better, and he found himself wishing for a pair of Extendable Ears. Harry slid to the ground and pressed his ear to the tiny gap.

“Sirius, I'm just trying to look at this objectively.”

“Objectively?” He heard Sirius hiss in obvious anger, “Remus, you know damn well that we didn't sign those papers just because of the Rite.”

“I know, but it's just a precaution. After the debacle at the end of last year we need to make sure that the Dark forces think that it's just a legality, and that he still has Lily's protection. I don't like it any better than you.”

“It's still fucking cold. How can we tell Harry that? It's bad enough that he has to go through with this against his will, he'll think we never actually wanted him. I won't do that to him Remus. We've done enough damage already.” Harry heard a soft clink of a glass against the wood table.

“Would you rather the bloodbath that would have followed if a hoard of active Death Eaters showed up at the Lughnasadh Ball?”

“No, I suppose not,” Sirius paused, “but I won't lie to him about it. I won't do that to him anymore.” If Remus replied, Harry didn't hear it over the strange buzzing that seemed to have filled his head.

Harry slid to the floor, and did not bother to try stifling the burning behind his eyes. He hid his face in his hands, and struggled to breathe, as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. He distantly heard his parents (how he used to love that word) get up and head to their bedroom still muttering to one another heatedly. Harry swallowed his cries and frustration, while his entire form trembled.
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The Stag and The Snake