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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 90
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91. Slytherins Returning to Type
Friday 27 November
"So of course as soon as I realised there was a problem I came to you for help," the elegant pure-blood said as he placed his teacup down on the table.
"Ye-es," the ministry official opposite him said carefully. The 'problem' didn't seem to amount to much to him, but this was Lord Malfoy, who had been working the system since before Bruzzen had been in nappies. Still, squibs? Surely Lord Malfoy knew better than to bother senior ministry officials about squibs? It wasn't as though they were scrambling for something to do, after all.
"Forgive me, but surely squibs are dealt with through the Committee on Muggle and Squib affairs – surely old Perkins can deal with it? I'm not entirely sure why you want to bring this to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"
Their visitor smiled inwardly. Peter Bruzzen was a young and very ambitious wizard; not to mention brash, arrogant, and rather charmless. He was very fond of stating his views, and they were largely views that Harry Potter would not agree with, a circumstance that Lucius's debt could not ignore. He had no real understanding of how to deal with the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, on the other hand, knew everything about him: "know your enemy" was still an important rule of warfare. And while the War was over, of course, that wasn't going to change how Lucius saw these little skirmishes; nor, come to that, diminish his enjoyment of them. He knew he could take this man down without even trying; he was about to prove it.
"Well, you see," he said, dropping his voice and affecting the air of a man imparting a great secret, "the real problem isn't the Squibs at all; it's the Act of Secrecy."
Bruzzen looked dumbfounded at this, but the older wizard on his left nodded sagely.
"I see," he said. "You are suggesting we're taking a huge risk letting people simply walk out of the Wizarding world, and not following them up."
"Precisely," Lucius replied. "We've been lucky up till now; but we must not get complacent. Muggle security is getting better and better all the time, it's only a matter of time before someone notices us, and an aggrieved Squib tipping them off…"
"But that's preposterous!" Bruzzen snapped. His superior turned and stared at him, and he continued, a touch sheepishly, "surely!"
"Not at all," Merton Anderson, Undersecretary and Head of the Committee of Wizarding Security replied sharply. He was a little disappointed in his subordinate, to be honest; he expected great things of Peter Bruzzen but the man knew it and had his eyes on the top job. Ambition was all very well, but you have to show you're good at your current job, and not thinking of the security angle immediately was a black mark. "In fact, it is something I have been concerned about for a while. And the Ministry is indebted to Lord Malfoy for compiling these figures for us," he continued, waving a hand at the documents Lucius had tabled.
The blond waved the compliment away. He wasn't interested in pretty words today. Not yet, anyway. They would come, and far more publicly, from the Daily Prophet.
"Of course," he murmured. "But what to do…"
"There is the question," Merton replied. "I'm sure the Minister won't thank us if we don't bring him an action plan."
Bruzzen sighed thoughtfully. "We could… I don't know, kidnap them maybe?"
Lucius turned steely eyes on the man, but inwardly he was smirking. Another promising career at the Ministry was going up in smoke before his very eyes. It was always so entertaining.
"That won't do at all!" Anderson replied, and Lucius knew immediately that Bruzzen's goose was well and truly cooked.
"If I may," he said smoothly, "I do have a modest proposal?"
He passed a folder over, and Anderson opened it and perused the documents inside. Then he looked back at Lucius, who knew at once that he had his man. Merton was no fool; he could see immediately that this proposal not only neatly solved all the problems, but managed to get rid of a drain on Ministry resources: while the properties were vacant, the Ministry had to take responsibility for their upkeep. Of course, he was no fool: he could also see that accepting the proposal would be quite a feather in Lucius Malfoy's cap. But the report had been carefully crafted so he could present it to the Minister as his own approach to Lord Malfoy, rather than the other way round. There was, of course, the small matter of Bruzzen, the only witness otherwise; but as his junior had just proved himself both useless and heartless, his move out the door was sealed.
He smiled at Lucius. "Excellent!" he said. "I'm sure we can present this to the Minister in our weekly meeting this afternoon. Though Peter, I believe you are scheduled to visit our security facility in Newport?"
Bruzzen groaned. He was well aware of the faux pas he had made, and the meeting this afternoon was one they had been planning to ditch. Apparently no longer. Not good for his career; he only hoped he could salvage some part of his job out of it.
"Never mind," the undersecretary continued. "Lord Malfoy, would you care to join me for lunch?"
"That would be delightful," Lucius replied, and meant it. Merton was a good host; and it was clear that Bruzzen was not invited, a snub that Lucius relished. The uppity little shit was only getting his just desserts, in Lucius's view.
Two hours later, Lucius smirked as he left the Ministry. As he expected, his proposal was all signed, sealed and delivered. Happily, the Minister had also been at lunch, and agreed wholeheartedly, especially when Lucius dropped the fact that Harry was aware of, and approved, the plan. Kingsley had even agreed to Lucius releasing it to the Press under his own name, which was quite a concession; though the Malfoy lord would make sure Anderson got a good mention. It would cost him nothing, and earn him a favour from the man.
A delightful day's work: one idiot's career sabotaged, another's assisted but with Lucius's hooks in him. It was just like old times. Next stop, Barnabus Cuffe's office at the Daily Prophet. This had all the makings of a major Sunday supplement, he was sure.
Saturday 28 November
"So of course I came to you for help," the elegant pure-blood said as she sipped her tea.
Her hostess sighed and adjusted in her seat. Galatea Merrythought was now a hundred and thirty-nine, and she was starting to feel each and every one of those years. Still, it was hard not to be flattered by a pure-blood coming to her for help on pure-blood matters; she had to admit it was definitely a request that piqued her interest. To be sure, she had given up formal teaching a long time ago, but a true teacher never loses that fire of excitement, though it might burn low: the fire that is kindled best by that fleeting look on a student's face when they suddenly grasp something.
She had to admit it to herself, at least. There was no need to let her visitor know how she felt; not straight away, anyway. Her visitor was a Slytherin, so she would definitely be treading carefully. There was always an ulterior motive in there somewhere.
"Well, I suppose I should be flattered that you sought me out," she replied, looking at her teacup with studied nonchalance.
Narcissa Malfoy smirked inwardly. She knew this game very well; Poker Diplomacy her mother had called it and, while she had to admit that Galatea was much better at it than most, she was no match for her visitor. As a Black, Narcissa had practically taken it in with her mother's milk.
"You're too kind," Narcissa answered, with just the right flutter of the eyelids and just the right curl of the lip.
Galatea laughed.
"All right," she agreed, "I shall help you teach Mr Potter the finer points of a Wizarding Yule," and so saying, she called for her house-elf, who appeared almost before Galatea had finished saying her name.
"How can Misty be helping Madam Merrythought?" she asked.
"We shall need the Book on General Wizarding Rituals," Merrythought replied, rather imperiously.
"Yes mistress!" the elf replied, and popped away, retouring scant seconds later with an ancient and obviously well-read book.
"That will be all," Merrythought said, and Misty vanished.
Narcissa smiled inwardly. She recognised this treatment of house-elves; after all, it was exactly the same as her mother and grandmother, and had been inculcated into her too. It was only Miss Granger, and of course Harry, who had opened her eyes to other possibilities: that one might be polite, even kind, to house-elves would never occur to Galatea; but then, Misty probably wouldn't be able to cope with such behaviour. The two had been together for the best part of a century, and it was clear that they got on well together. It wasn't going to change. In the same way, there was just no point in reminding her hostess that Harry had changed his name from Potter to Potter-Malfoy; she'd done so twice already, and the woman had simply ignored the point. There were more important battles to win here. Or at least, there were battles that were easier to win.
Meanwhile, Galatea had opened up to the section she required.
"Now," she said, in full-blown Professor mode, "there are some very important Yule rituals. The Sun being absent for the longest period has created the general belief that rituals involving the Dead are in order. Of course, we shall steer clear of actual Necromancy in any form; but I know Mr Potter has lost many people close to him?"
As Galatea outlined some possibilities, Narcissa's eyes grew very wide indeed. She had thought she knew plenty of Dark rituals; but of course much of what she knew had to be kept rather secret while the Ministry was no longer swayed by the Dark side. Her knowledge of legal rituals was rather scant, which was why she had sought the old witch out in the first place; Galatea was a mine of information, especially concerning rituals that weren't exactly Light Magic but weren't banned either.
ooOOoo
Merrythought sat long into the night, staring at her fire. It had been a most unusual day. When the Malfoys had made it clear that they were for Voldemort (and yes, Dalmatea called him that, she had no time for ridiculous circumlocutions like "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named"), she had assumed that was it; she had never expected to see Narcissa Malfoy again, at least, not without wands being drawn. To have her come visiting, and doing it strictly by the book, sending calling cards instead of curses ahead of her in the proper formal pure-blood way had rather rattled Galatea. In her old age, life had become rather black-and-white; it seemed that perhaps, as Dalmatia had suggested to her on Sunday, the certainties she had grown up with were being stripped away.
In many ways, she mused, this was a good thing. There was no doubt that the changes she had watched over the last few months as their society came to grips with being at peace were in large part due to Mr Potter; the Potter Code, and the way he had handled the Wizengamot, had been masterful. Not that she was a member of that august body any longer, of course, but Dalmatia came over every Sunday and told her everything that went on, and she felt she was as well-informed as when she had been there herself. Her daughter had always had a wonderful gift for explaining things; that was one of the reasons why she had pushed her to take the job at Hogwarts.
And hadn't that worked out well! She heard nothing but praise from Minerva McGonagall; evidently Dalmatea had taken to teaching like a duck to water. Like mother, like daughter, it seemed. She thought back on the discussion they had had last Sunday, comparing Voldemort to Grindelwald. Of course, there were more differences than similarities: Grindelwald had not actually been certifiably insane, for a start. Galatea had wondered just how that had happened to Tom Riddle but when she learnt that he had created horcruxes the answer was clear. The man might have been brilliant, but he seemed to have overlooked the rather obvious fact that splitting your soul into pieces was pretty much guaranteed to do irreparable damage to it.
Her mind circled back to Harry Potter. There was no insanity there; in fact, she rather admired his evident level-headedness, especially given the way Dumbledore had treated him. For Galatea had few illusions about Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: the rest of the Light might think that the sun shone out of his behind, but she had taught him, and in her opinion he had never stopped being a naughty boy. And what had been enchanting in an eleven-year-old was, in her view, positively dangerous by the time the wizard was a hundred and eleven.
Still, water under the bridge, she supposed. She had outlived him; she had never expected that. He seemed to have ensconced himself in Hogwarts and it had looked like nothing was ever going to get him out. And now Minerva was Headmistress, and what had become in the end a rather stagnant pond was getting a good stirring. It might unsettle her certainties; but really, that was no bad thing.
She had outlived them all: Dumbledore, and Voldemort, and Grindelwald. Three wizards who had all, in their own ways, wanted to be immortal, and perished in the attempt. Horcruxes! Riddle may have been clever, but he was a clever fool. And 'the greater good'! It had sprung forth so effortlessly from Dumbledore's lips that it had been quite a revelation to learn that it was really Gellert Grindelwald's phrase. And as for him: obsessed with the Deathly Hallows, an obsession that Albus had shared, though Voldemort seemed to have been only interested in the Elder Wand. And now, it seemed, the Elder Wand was no more. She wondered just what had become of the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility; did Harry Potter have them, perhaps? Was that the secret of the enchantment that the Wizarding world had only recently thrown off?
"Mistress!"
Misty's voice cut through her meandering thoughts.
"Oh, Misty, sorry, you startled me," she said.
"It is being past midnight, and time for mistress to be in bed."
Galatea smiled. Whatever happened in the world, her house-elf was still rabidly protective of her.
ooOOoo
Sunday 29 November
Weekend breakfasts at Malfoy Manor seemed to have settled back into the lovely lazy groove Narcissa fondly remembered from when they were first married, and which seemed to have gone forever once baby Draco was mobile and demanded to be up and doing at five o'clock every morning. Those days were long gone; and while she didn't miss the early wake-up calls, it did feel a bit sad these days to wake up in the huge, all but empty manor, now that Harry and Draco divided their time between the Castle or the Lodge. She wondered idly if her sons would ever live in the Manor; though perhaps it would be better used for something else. It had unpleasant memories for all of them. Not that she would ever get Lucius to live anywhere else, she knew that well enough, but there was no reason why Draco needed to be tortured by memories of the past.
She berated herself for getting off track. All right, she missed having the boys around. Still, she was sure she could tempt them to the Manor for Yule. Given what she planned following Galatea's advice, she was certainly going to try.
"How was your visit with old Merrythought?" Lucius asked, unconsciously echoing Narcissa's thoughts, as he took a sip of his tea and put down the Daily Prophet.
"Very productive," Narcissa replied enigmatically.
Lucius looked at her sternly, then gave a wry grin. "Well, I guess if you want to tell me about it, you will."
"Of course," she said drily, buttering her toast and taking a bite.
Lucius picked up the Prophet again. No doubt Narcissa was scheming about something; as she hadn't involved him yet, he suspected it had to do with Draco and Harry. Well, that would be good; much better to have her focussed on them than him. He loved his wife dearly, but being in the centre of her attention had its own attendant dangers. Usually involving going shopping. And spending a lot of money on clothes. Two activities that he could generally do without.
His own plans were proceeding well; after his conversation with Harry on Thursday and the meeting on Friday, the Daily Prophet had made wonderful reading over the weekend. To be sure, the article he enjoyed most yesterday was buried away on page 14; internal moves at the Ministry were not exactly big news, especially when a relatively junior employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement got moved to an equally junior position in the Department of the Care of Magical Creatures. He was sure it would be entertaining over the next few months to see if Bruzzen could resurrect his career from there.
And today the article he had discussed with Cuffe had come out, and the Ministry had even written a press release which had also been published in today's edition. Lucius was delighted to discover that, while Dempster Wiggleswade might still be the legal issues columnist for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, either he had had a major style change or Cuffe had found a new editor; the article had a certain zip to it that he couldn't quite place … except … his mind drifted back over the summer, and he remembered they had had an intern … Susan Bones, perhaps? Though she would be at Hogwarts; but then again perhaps she had a weekend job during term time. He would probably follow it up later; good journalists were definitely worth cultivating.
Not that it mattered a jot, of course; the article was a good one, and painted Anderson in just the right light of a caring Head of Committee with a genuine concern for Wizarding safety "who had been delighted to ask Lord Malfoy's advice and discover that the man had a plan that neatly dealt with potential security problems while at the same time offering solace and shelter to those poor squibs who had been so cruelly discarded by their families but deserved better," the article said. Lovely.
"Anything in the Prophet?" Narcissa enquired.
"Oh, just an article about a new proposal for getting squibs back into our society," he replied, passing her the paper opened at the relevant page and watching as her eyebrow rose when she found out just exactly who had proposed the action.
"Intriguing," she said when she had finished, laying the paper down. "I wonder what Harry will have to say about it."
Lucius had noticed that Harry wasn't mentioned, of course, but that could actually work in their favour; Skeeter could be pushed to ask him what he thought about it, and they'd get a second piece of good publicity out of it.
"Oh," Lucius replied off-hand, "he's in favour of it."
Narcissa looked at him, a touch surprised at this. "When exactly did Harry give his backing?"
Lucius smirked. "That would be on Thursday," he replied.
She looked at him with admiration. "I see. When he came to the Manor," she said simply, thinking out loud. "Making hay while the sun shines?"
"Something like that," he replied, passing her the jam before she could ask. "Are you going to tell me about your project?"
"Yule," she replied.
"And…"
"Harry."
"Ah. Merrythought had some suggestions?"
"Some very good ones," Narcissa agreed. "Though I will need some help sourcing some of the woods she recommended."
"Hmm," Lucius mused. For Narcissa to say she needed help meant she must be really stuck. He let his mind wander through their contacts for a minute, and she watched in silence, appreciating the obvious effort he was making on her behalf. Not for the first time, she was very grateful to be married to a man who always took her quite seriously; most pure-bloods she knew treated their wives as little more than chattels. Most pure-bloods I know are dead or in Azkaban, shethought ruefully.
"Mr Longbottom, perhaps?" he suggested, breaking in to her reverie
Narcissa beamed at him, and rose from her seat.
"Perfect!" she replied, favouring him with a kiss before repairing to her study. She had a celebration to plot.
ooOOoo
Narcissa Malfoy sat in her study in a bit of a quandary. After her discussion with Galatea Merrythought, it was clear that she needed to make contact with Neville Longbottom. The problem was, how to do so discreetly. While she was on nodding terms with the man, he wasn't the sort of person she could simply owl an invitation to afternoon tea to. And anyway, that was quite the wrong way to go about things. An owl implied organisation and planning; it would be much better if the impression was given that the meeting was a fortuitous thing, a spontaneous event taken advantage of.
But meeting with Neville rather necessitated a visit to Diagon Alley, and that caused the problem. Quite simply, Narcissa Malfoy did not wander Diagon Alley. Not that she couldn't, of course; just that she didn't. Why would she? She had house elves to do her shopping, and Lucius did most of the business of the family. No-one would believe for a moment that she just happened to be strolling there for no particular reason; they would be looking for the ulterior motive. Not, of course, without reason. But the fact remained that her just appearing there would cause comment; and much more so if she were to enter a shop like Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. And comment would probably get back to Draco, and then Harry; somehow gossip always did manage to get back to the very people you wanted kept in the dark, in her experience.
So she wracked her brains to find some plausible reason to be there; surely, she told herself, a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could think of something. Ideally, something that only she could do, to explain why she had not delegated the task to a house-elf or husband. It was a pretty problem. How to explain her presence in the Alley, and get to meet with the twins and Neville, without causing surprise?
It took perhaps ten minutes before the news from the breakfast table filtered into her thoughts. Lucius had set up a programme to re-integrate squibs into the Wizarding World. On the whole, that could be a good idea, she mused. Especially if the hand of friendship was offered by the pure-bloods, as a sort of peace offering, since it was mostly pure-blood families who had thrown them out in the first place. An act with a great deal of symbolic power. Yes, a very good idea. One they wanted to be seen to be behind …
An evil grin spread across her face. What if the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black actually put its weight behind the idea? Harry had even made it easy for her; not really wanting another title for himself anyway, he had made it clear that Teddy Lupin was to inherit the title of Lord Black, and Narcissa and Andromeda had been given joint stewardship over most of the Black estate until Teddy reached his majority.
She placed a Floo call to her sister. They could set things up so that some empty Black properties were made available to the squibs; and at the same time, it would give her a very positive reason to visit Diagon Alley, as obviously they would want to sort things out with the goblins in person. And then it would not surprise anyone if she took advantage of being there to do a little shopping …
Two hours later, Lucius happened upon a familiar scene: Andromeda and Narcissa were sitting at the Manor having tea while Teddy gurgled happily at their feet.
"Good morning Dromeda," he said warmly. "Staying to lunch?"
"Oh!" Andromeda said, and thought for a second before replying, "I hadn't intended to, but if it's no trouble…"
"Of course not!" Narcissa said joyously. "The boys are coming over, Harry will be delighted to see his godson again."
And indeed, Andromeda mused a couple of hours later as she sat on one of the drawing-room sofas with her nephew Draco and watched Harry crawling all over the floor chasing Teddy, it was clearly a very good idea.
Right now, they seemed to be playing some infant version of hide-and-seek: Teddy had somehow managed to hide himself under a table, and Harry was pretending he couldn't find him. Narcissa roared with laughter at the ludicrous expression of surprise on Harry's face when he finally 'found' Teddy and lifted him up in the air for a cuddle while pretending to eat him.
Harry, feeling a bit tired out by his godson, fell onto the sofa next to his husband, Teddy giggling as he in turn collapsed onto Harry's chest. Draco smirked.
"Has he tired you out already, Harry?" he asked mischievously.
"Ry!" Teddy echoed, reaching out his hands and thumping Harry for all the world as though he felt a percussion accompaniment was needed.
"This whole family!" Harry mock-complained. "All Lucius's politicking is making my head spin! And you want to involve the Black family, you were saying?"
"Yes," Andy said firmly. "What better way to cock a snook at our ancestors than to welcome with open arms the people they threw to the wolves – in some cases, literally."
Narcissa shuddered. There were certainly stories of some of the more heartless Blacks waiting until the full moon especially to throw squibs out of the family and into the hunting grounds of werewolves, and knowing her family as she did, she did not doubt there was some truth to them.
"I thought, for example, we might go to Gringotts this afternoon and see if there are any obvious vacant properties that could be used to house squibs. If, that is, you were agreeable?" Narcissa asked, taking care to keep her facial expression open and honest as she looked to Harry for his approval.
"Sounds like an excellent idea to me," Harry replied. He turned to his father-in-law. "I take it that doesn't steal your thunder?"
"Not at all," Lucius replied. "Uniting the pure-blood houses of Malfoy and Black behind this plan will send a very strong signal to our community."
Harry laughed. "Politicking again," he said, with a mock groan. "Oh, and Narcissa, see if you can get Bill Weasley to show you his map. It's really spectacular."
"Map?" Narcissa asked, puzzled.
"Oh yes," Draco replied. "It's a map he made at the last solstice, of the Spheres of Existence."
"My word," Lucius said. "I had heard of such things; but he actually has one?"
Harry nodded.
"Remarkable. You'd better hunt Weasley out. He works at Gringotts?"
The question was asked of Harry, who nodded again.
"Excellent!" Narcissa replied. "Well, I think there's only one more thing to be asked."
"What's that?" Draco replied.
"If you two boys will look after Teddy for us while we visit Gringotts," Andromeda replied, and Draco had the feeling he'd been conned. Of course, they had to agree; but at least Harry and Teddy were happy as the two ladies Flooed away and, surprise surprise, Lucius remembered some urgent paperwork in his office.
ooOOoo
One thing Narcissa appreciated about the Goblins was their efficiency. It took ten minutes for them to be in front of Sharpfang, the Black account manager. They outlined their plan to him, taking the trouble to explain the reasoning, while at the same time keeping their presentation crisp and succinct. To the Goblins, time was money.
Sharpfang was actually quite impressed. Generally speaking, he had a low opinion of wizards, and an even lower one of witches: in his experience, they tended not to be good for much more than fits of histrionics when threatened with foreclosure. Not good for business. But his customers in the Black account were an entirely different kind of Magical: for a start, Lord Black, or Potter-Malfoy as the boy called himself now, was both a Dragon-rider and a Goblin-friend, and those titles garnered him a lot of respect throughout the Goblin nation. Add to that these two witches, who had just given him one of the best presented arguments for what was essentially charity work that he had ever seen from a pure-blood, and it was no surprise that the Black account was sought after in the bank. Well, no one was wresting it from his hands. Not without a fight, anyway. He'd like to see the young bloods try, he thought grimly; he'd be leaving their blood on the floor if they did. Sharpfang was no slouch with a sword, and, more importantly, this fact was well-known to his fellow Goblins; the rumour of his skill saved him from fighting all but the stupidest opponents, who proved to be no match for it.
In the meantime, he needed to pass from these happy thoughts to the matter at hand.
"While I can see that this means properties standing idle will get used," he said once the ladies had finished, "You do understand that these properties cannot just be given away, nor do the terms of the Black estate allow you to sell them. As your account manager, I must consider the revenue angle…"
"In the short term, there won't be one," Andromeda said firmly. "We're doing this to get squibs back into the community. Which will, of course, only increase commerce in the Wizarding world. Perhaps, in time, since we can't sell the properties, we will be able to charge rents; but to begin with we want to seem open-handed."
Sneaky, Sharpfang thought. Get them in, then a sucker punch once they are committed. He liked it. Not that he was about to say so; nor was it really his place to. If the lawful stewards of the Black estate wanted this, he couldn't really stop them.
"What does Lord Black have to say?" he asked, just to cover all the bases.
"Harry is in full support of the project," Narcissa replied.
"Very well," Sharpfang said. "There are four properties I would suggest …"
As he was speaking, the goblin laid out four folders on the desk, one describing each property, facing the two witches, with wizarding photographs on the front. Narcissa realised at a glance that the choices were excellent – these properties were all well sited, had land around them, but not so much as to make people feel isolated, and exuded a feeling of cosiness and comfort.
"Excellent," she said, and Andromeda nodded in agreement. "Well, that's all we need really; if you could add those properties to the list the Ministry is compiling …"
"Of course," Sharpfang responded immediately. One did not say no to such clients. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"
"There is one thing …" Narcissa began.
ooOOoo
Bill Weasley was in conference with Raredd when the two witches entered the curse-breakers workroom; it was the goblin who noticed Narcissa and Andromeda first, largely because they were with Sharpfang. While Raredd and Sharpfang were not exactly enemies, there was little love lost between them; add to that the fact that, as a manager, he surely had better things to do than escort people around the bank, and Raredd's curiosity was well and truly piqued.
"Sharpfang!" he roared as he entered the main body of the workroom. "What brings an exalted Senior Account Manager to my humble abode?"
"I hear, Raredd, that, amongst the trinkets you keep here, you have an artefact here that is worth viewing – some kind of map?"
Raredd grinned. "So, news of the Map of the Worlds has reached even as high as your ears, then?"
Bill could hardly rein in the smirk from his face: Raredd was six inches taller than Sharpfang, so the comment was in fact a sarcastic way of pointing out the latter's lack of height. It was obvious that Sharpfang was well aware that he was being needled; and Bill was sure that, if the two witches had not been present, they would have been treated to either a stream of profanities or an outright challenge to duel.
But Sharpfang was not for doing either of those things in the presence of such illustrious clients. The Black account was sufficiently important that he was prepared to overlook Raredd's barbs.
"Indeed," he replied calmly. "And, dear friend, now that my ears have heard of it, my eyes desire to see it. As do these two important clients of the Bank."
"Yes, yes," Raredd replied, not missing the ironic 'dear friend', nor the subtlety of the other pointing out that the two witches were important clients – which, of course, Raredd knew perfectly well; like practically everyone else in the Bank, he could recognise Narcissa Malfoy immediately, and the other was too much like her to be anyone but her sister. And, also in common with almost every other goblin, he was well aware that these two had considerable clout over the Black account, one of the oldest and most profitable in the bank.
Still, Raredd thought, it would not do to let Sharpfang think he could best him. "I'm sure Senior Curse-Breaker Weasley will be happy to show you the Map, and explain how he came to make it."
And with that, much to Sharpfang's consternation, the Head of Curse-Breaking at Gringotts returned to his office.
As his boss walked out on them, Bill went over to a tall cupboard hidden in an alcove and pulled out a scroll which he brought over to the large worktable in the middle of the workroom. As he unrolled it, he casually weighted it down with whatever was to hand – bags of gold coins, mostly, but the occasional large jewel. Like McGonagall had before, Andromeda chuckled softly to see the incredible nonchalance displayed as the curse-breaker casually used ridiculously expensive stones for no other purpose than to weigh the scroll down.
Bill heard the chuckle and well understood the reason for it.
"Goblins have a rather different view of precious stones than we do," he said, not unkindly. "They value them, to be sure; but things need to be useful as well as beautiful in the goblin world, and this merely proves their worth. Anyway, let me explain the map."
Fifteen minutes later, a rather wide-eyed Narcissa Malfoy was struggling to retain her composure. Even Sharpfang looked a bit shocked, not that his general demeanour indicated it in any way.
"Thank you for showing off your toy," he said to Bill, "but now I'm afraid I must get back to some real work. Ladies," he said, nodding to Narcissa and Andromeda before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
"Officious git," Bill said under his breath.
Narcissa privately agreed, but did not say so. Gringotts was, after all, his patch; and a guest does not insult the host in their own home.
"What you have here is amazing," she said, choosing to ignore Sharpfang's exit altogether. "And you seem to have learnt a great deal from it."
"Yes," Bill agreed. "What would be nice, of course, would be to make a similar map at the Winter Solstice in December."
"What would that tell you?" Andromeda asked.
"Hard to be sure," Bill replied, "but it might be a way to discover a bit more about the Sphere of Intangible Absence; it's the thing we know least about in the whole set-up."
"The Winter Solstice?" Narcissa echoed musingly. "That's at Yule, is it not?"
"That's right," Bill said, and the honest countenance he turned to her helped Narcissa make up her mind.
"I wonder if I could beg your help," she said. "I'm hoping to give Harry a taste of what a real old-fashioned Yule is like, so I'm doing some research into the old customs…."
"Oh what a brilliant idea!" Bill said. "I can't be there on the day, unfortunately, but I'd love to help with the preparations. Were you thinking of something like the Ceremony of the Woods?"
"Yes," Narcissa answered, a serene smile on her face belying the turmoil of her thoughts as she realised that his comment about how it would be nice to have a Winter Solstice map was, in fact, not a wish at all, but a definite plan; this was, surely, the only reason why he would not be available for a celebration. "You know it?"
Bill nodded. "Might be tricky to get the woods you need, though." He thought for a second. "Tell you what, let's have a chat with Neville Longbottom about it. He's passionate about plants, if anyone can source them, he can."
Narcissa carefully schooled her face into an innocent visage; she didn't want Bill to suggest this was exactly what she was hoping for. "That would be wonderful. Do you think you could raise it with him?"
Bill cast a tempus. "Tell you what," he said, "I'm done for the day; we could pop over to the shop and see them now, if that suits you."
"How kind," Narcissa replied. "Perhaps we could have you all to dinner?"
"Ooh, yes please!" Bill said with a grin. "Fleur is away so I was going to eat with the lads anyway." Which pretty much meant it would be takeaway as like as not, but he wasn't about to tell Narcissa that.
Too easy, Narcissa thought, as the three of them left the bank together.
ooOOoo
It was quite a large party who sat down to dinner at the Manor that night. Harry and Draco were still there, and their numbers were increased as Margaret and Miriam had turned up so that the little girl could play with Teddy. Narcissa had not only insisted that they stay, and fetch Peter Granger, but invited Ron and Hermione as well, ostensibly so that Hermione could spend time with her family.
But Narcissa was a Black and a Slytherin. Andromeda Tonks, watching the group, strongly suspected there was an ulterior motive. A suspicion that hardened to certainty as she watched her sister work the drawing-room after dinner, effortlessly manoeuvring her guests so she managed to have what were obviously quite serious conversations with Neville and one of the twins – Neville's husband, she supposed, so that would be George. And then the sickle dropped: all of these people made an excellent smoke-screen for having a private conversation, in plain sight, with people her sister would not normally see. It was a masterstroke. She only hoped that whatever was being planned came off; from what Narcissa had said at Gringotts, it was most probably a nice surprise for Harry. And if anyone deserved such a thing, Andromeda thought, he did.
ooOOoo
As he got ready for bed, Lucius realised, somewhat to his surprise, that he had really enjoyed himself that evening.
"A very pleasant evening, my dear," he said to Narcissa as they bedded down.
"Glad you enjoyed it," she replied, casting a Nox to extinguish the lights.
"Did you get everything you wanted done today?" he asked.
"Oh, I think so," Narcissa replied. Yes, it had been a most successful day. Keeping these Gryffindors in the dark was like taking candy from a baby, Narcissa thought smugly, as she fell asleep.
ooOOoo
At Hogwarts, another married couple were also bedding down for the night.
"Did you enjoy playing with your godson?" Draco asked.
"Very much so," Harry replied as the cuddled together, lapsing into a profound and comfortable silence.
But Harry couldn't get straight to sleep; he found the day's events replaying in his head.
"Draco," he asked a little while later, "just what exactly is your mother up to?"

Notes:

Grateful thanks as always to the wonderful Bicky Monster for helpful suggestions.
Other locations: See my profile for details about facebook and AO3. The story is also now available on AFF should anyone prefer that site.
Thanks: To all who are following and favoriting! It gives me a lovely warm feeling that you're interested. And double thanks and Galatea Merrythought's seed cake to all who have reviewed.
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