Choosing Family: What Do You Want?

[sapphirequill]

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Draco has told me quite firmly that while Harry might be a touchy-feely Hufflepuff in training and Severus might be bribable, he himself does not intend to bare his thoughts to the masses - thank you very much - so there won't be much from his POV (at least not until he feels the need to get even). He also said that I was not permitted to blame him for the delay in posting this chapter, since he told me from the beginning that he wouldn't do it, and if I had listened I wouldn't have had the delay. So there you go - it's all my fault.

To start my new year off as the mature, responsible adult I'm supposed to be, I thought I'd give you a new chapter. So I dug in, let Draco win (for the moment), and decided to cut the chapter in half. The birthday celebrations, however, ran late (the late that comes after 'early the next day'), so not so much with the 'mature, responsible,' but you get the chapter anyway, only a day late.

All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour.

Bonus marks to those of you who catch the nod to Mercedes Lackey, though I hadn't realized it was there until the chapter was half written.

Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and Phoenix Writing, who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own.

Additional notes are available before the prologue.

Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.

Originally posted 17 Mar. '06; edited version posted 13 Dec. '07

What Do You Want?

Harry felt a headache forming, one that was very familiar to him - it was the same headache he had after one of Hermione's scheduled study marathons. On autopilot, Harry headed for dinner and diversion in the Great Hall, which he and Ron had found in the past to be an effective cure. Besides, despite having mangled a couple of sandwiches in the Headmaster's office, he couldn't remember eating any of them, and it had been a long time since lunch.

Unfortunately, the closer he got to the food, the more his stomach protested the idea of it. By the time Harry reached the foot of the staircase, he knew that eating would be an impossibility, and just sitting there would leave him physically able to answer the questions of his curious friends. Since he was in no way ready to share, he continued across the entrance hall and out onto the lawn. This time of evening, there weren't many people outside, but Harry did notice a few students who appeared to be arranging teams for a game of some sort. Having no desire to be drafted as player, post, or referee, he turned and headed toward the lake. While the weather may have been unseasonably warm, it was still nearly December, and Harry was unlikely to be disturbed there.

Even the giant squid is nowhere in sight, Harry noted gratefully as he sat and leaned wearily at the base of a tree not far from the water's edge.

Occlumency was necessary at times and really not that difficult, once Snape and Harry had approached the lessons intending to succeed. The trouble, it turned out, was that when Harry had arrived with a lot of the groundwork in place, Snape had assumed that either Hermione or the headmaster had instructed him in the basics and that Harry was simply being perverse in his refusal to follow directions. In fact, Harry had been acting unconsciously and by instinct and was becoming more and more frustrated with Snape's refusal to actually teach. With an understanding of the theory, Harry had been surprised at how well he could hold out against Voldemort. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet managed to dissipate his mental protections in a controlled manner, and the release of emotions was unpredictable and usually overwhelming. He found it best to make sure he was alone since he often ended up crying or yelling, and once had an embarrassing fit of giggles that reminded him - and his dormmates - of Lavender and Parvati at their most annoying.

Why can't there be anything that's just good? Harry picked up a small rock from the ground next to him and threw it into the lake with a violence that the rock likely didn't deserve. The trip to Hogsmeade had been great, the shopping had been completed successfully, he'd had fun with his friends. He didn't know how Ron had talked Hermione into giving them the whole day off studying - and I don't want to - but it had been fun and restful and at times even silly. Why can't that ever be it? Every time something goes right, something good happens, it gets completely overshadowed by something awful.

He picked up another rock, this one smaller and more jagged, and turned it over in his hands while he catalogued the emerging pattern of his life. He finally found out he was a wizard and got to leave the Dursleys only to discover that he had all this fame and the responsibility and expectations that went with it - not to mention being stalked by a homicidal maniac. He'd been offered a chance to live with his godfather only to have it taken away within hours. Quidditch had been tainted by Hospital stays, certain DADA teachers, and - other people he didn't want to think about.

Even leaving the Dursleys this summer had required action figures and press interviews.

He'd begun to suspect that Voldemort had cursed him with more than Avada Kedavra, probably some sort of mixed luck hex. He'd have to remember to ask Hermione about that and soon, since she probably wouldn't want to help - if she would even speak to him - once she found out about this latest scheme. Given her reaction when she'd learned he'd had to bind Kreacher to protect the secrets of the Order, he was terrified of how she'd react after he bound a wizard. If I decide to, he thought resentfully as the second rock hit the water with even more force than the first.

He'd be happy to gain Malfoy as an ally - with his new restrained attitude, it had been an obvious topic of speculation, and even Ron had been forced to admit that the Slytherin was clever, talented, and driven. If his skills could be used for Harry rather than against him, the blows to Lucius and, to a lesser extent, Voldemort would definitely be secondary benefits, since Malfoy would be a valuable addition to the Order in his own right. But couldn't that happen without him being tied to Harry for the rest of their lives?

The third rock was smooth and flatter then the previous ones, Harry noted absently. Once the war was over, assuming he survived, he'd had plans: Harry, who'd never had the opportunity, and Remus, who'd never had the funds, would be going to all the places and seeing all the things that Harry had been denied while with the Dursleys or had never heard about until he'd entered the wizarding world.

Harry and Remus had spent many hours together, this past summer, talking about all sorts of things, and some of Harry's favourite evenings had been spent listening to Remus talk about places he'd seen or studied, particularly Paris - he'd been there once as a boy with his parents, the last trip his family had taken outside of Britain as he'd been bitten shortly thereafter. Though he'd been too young to really appreciate it, he'd enjoyed it tremendously. Of course, he'd added with a teasing grin, I was too young to experience it properly. Both James and Sirius had gone to France at least once during term breaks, but between James's elderly parents and Sirius's strict ones, they, too, had been limited in their explorations. Returning to Paris together was one of the many adventures the Marauders had been forced to postpone when Voldemort rose to power.

They'd also talked about Egypt with Bill, one Saturday at the Burrow; Guatemala, over dinner with Kingsley Shacklebolt who'd just returned from there; as well as Australia, Thailand, and so many others, just because they seemed interesting, for one reason or another.

Harry'd planned to surprise Remus with tickets after the war - for Christmas, his birthday, whatever possible occasion came first - open-ended, first to Paris then to wherever they felt like, for as long as they wanted. Stopping in cafes and bazaars, visiting museums and libraries, maybe seeing another World Cup... .

But that would never happen now, since he'd be stuck dragging Malfoy around with him.

His perfect vacation would not only no longer be perfect, it would scarcely be a vacation at all with Malfoy complaining about having to carry his own purchases, the inferiority of the accommodations, the plebeian nature of their activities... Which isn't entirely fair, he conceded as he squinted in the twilight to watch the rock skip twice before sinking. He didn't know Malfoy well enough to know what he'd expect from a vacation.

Actually, he realized, Dumbledore never really said much about the specific details of the bond beyond the ritual - at least not that he could remember. He really wasn't ready for another long conversation dodging Dumbledore's expectant looks or Snape's challenging ones, but he could check the library and see if they had anything there. If he asked, he could probably even get a pass for the Restricted Section from the headmaster - or Snape, for that matter. What are they going to do, say no? Tomorrow, though. Harry didn't think he could handle more information right now.

Besides, the practical details would not change to suit what he wanted, and they had little to do with answering the important question. If Snape was right, and Draco really had been reconsidering his options - and if he hadn't been, being tied to Voldemort was certainly a good reason to start - Harry was in a position to help him: could he really leave Draco with Voldemort and still be able to live with himself?

Harry had stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack - Yeah, and look how that turned out - and Draco certainly deserved this whole situation less than Pettigrew deserved to die. The Prince of Slytherin was an arrogant, nasty prat, but he'd never done anything worse than any other school bully. And, Harry sighed, a "lot of people are idiots at fifteen."

Could he really refuse to help or to give Malfoy a second chance when even Harry's own father had done worse, and he'd forgiven James? Granted, that forgiveness had come after many long talks and pensieve viewings with Moony, and Harry had never been the target of or witnessed James's pranks firsthand, but... .

Besides, Pettigrew never regretted anything or even apologized; he just pleaded for his life like a snivelling coward. In comparison, he wondered how the Marauders could taunt Snape with the nickname Snivellus - sarcastic, sneaky, complete arse when he wants, sure, but weak? Regardless of where his true allegiances were, he was betraying one of the most powerful wizards alive. Voldemort was nearly as sadistic to his faithful followers as he was to the Muggles he hoped to eradicate; there would be no mercy if he discovered the traitor in his midst. On the other side, while Dumbledore might choose to appear the benign grandfather, he was the wizard who had defeated Grindelwald, and Snape had already been given his second chance.

Both Dumbledore and Snape had done a great deal for Harry, and he knew they both had expectations - not because he owed them, but because he had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. He knew that they wouldn't want him to do it because they thought he should - well, maybe Snape - but it was tempting to use that as the deciding factor. It would certainly make things easier.

On the other hand, Remus had a theory about Harry's need to please people being a remnant of a childhood of being unable to do anything right for the Dursleys, and Harry agreed, to a point. It was nice being "the good one" for a change, and he hated to disappoint people he respected so much. Between Lily's blood sacrifice and his grandparents' taking in Sirius when he left his family, Harry thought his family, too, might have understood and even been proud.

Hermione would add that he was supposed to be working on controlling his "saving people thing" and not running blindly into situations for which he was completely unprepared. Which, he told his inner Hermione, isn't true. This time he wasn't going in blind, and he had at least two extremely intelligent adults with him.

Besides, the primary reason I'm considering this has nothing to do with Malfoy or Voldemort.

And that was the crux of the problem. How much of yourself should you be willing to give to get the thing you want most in the world?

He'd been thrilled to leave the Dursleys this summer, but - this was the revelation that had prompted Remus's "pleasing people" theory - he'd also felt just a bit of regret that they'd never managed to reconcile themselves to magic, that he hadn't been Muggle enough, that they'd never been the family he'd always wanted. Leaving meant they never would. And even if Harry were to marry and raise a family of his own, he'd still never experience the love of a parent outside the range of a Dementor.

There were, Harry was certain, any number of people who would be thrilled to adopt the Boy Who Lived, but there were very few people in his life who would be both able and willing to care for Just Harry. The Weasleys, of course. Mrs. Weasley had said as much at his birthday celebration this summer:

"I'm sorry this business with You Know Who didn't get sorted out before you
came of age, but you've turned into a fine lad all the same, no thanks to those
Muggles." She'd hugged him then, and the rest of her words were spoken
quietly, in his ear. "Remember that a man is never too old to come to his -
Well, you just come to me if you need a woman's perspective, all right?"

He'd done nothing more than nod in response because it had been several minutes before he could force air past the lump in his throat.

The Weasleys could ill-afford another child, however, especially since Harry was certain that not only would they refuse money from his trust, but they likely wouldn't let him access it either. There was also the danger to the family and the Burrow to consider, and Arthur and Molly Weasley would find it difficult to handle the prophesy as it was, concerning their son's best friend. If the subject was a child of their own, Harry suspected the Order would remember Mrs. Black's rants fondly in comparison.

Besides, the last thing Ron needs is another overshadowing brother.

Remus, though... Remus was a Marauder and one of Lily Potter's closest friends. He understood the danger and that sometimes the risks were worth it, though he did spend a lot of time making sure Harry would be both prepared and careful.

Harry was almost certain Remus would say yes. They'd gotten pretty close this summer, though Remus had been careful not to seem like he was trying to replace Sirius, and despite Mrs. Weasley's fears, most of their conversations had not revolved around his parents and godfather. It was kind of what Harry imagined having an uncle who wasn't Vernon Dursley would have been like.

Unfortunately, despite what the Sorting Hat had seen in his head, or maybe because he hadn't listened to it, he wasn't Slytherin enough to take the adoption and leave the bonding; his Gryffindor sense of fair play wouldn't allow it. So the question was, could he tolerate close ties with Malfoy and Snape in exchange for Remus as a father?

He just wished he knew - if the spell was as common as Snape had said - why Remus had never mentioned it, offered it as an option to Harry. Remus knew exactly how much Harry desperately wanted a family, how alone he felt, and he would have known, or at least guessed, that the blood magic protections would have ended this summer, if that had been his reason for keeping silent.

That someone as... Snape as Snape could manage to unbend enough to ask a spoiled bully like Malfoy to be his son, while Remus, one of the most generous and insightful people Harry knew, couldn't even... or maybe didn't...It's Not Fair!

Ok. That's possibly the most ridiculous and childish thought I've ever had. Time to go back inside and stop feeling sorry for myself before Myrtle comes 'round for pointers. Harry stood and shook out the stiffness he felt after sitting on the cold ground for so long. He took the last of the rocks he had been playing with, and, since it was far too dark to see, he listened for it and counted the skips. With a faint smile, he headed back to the castle. It was a personal best.

Dinner was over and the hallways surprisingly quiet as Harry made his way to Gryffindor tower. He did find a number of his housemates in the common room, however, and Hermione's study reprieve was apparently for the whole day, since Ron was engaged in what appeared to be a war of Exploding Snap with Seamus and a number of the sixth years, including Ginny. Hermione was sitting in a chair by the fire, with a book, of course, but rather than actually reading, she seemed to be trying not to laugh as she eavesdropped on a conversation between a group of gloating third years and an envious audience of first- and second-years.

"Hey, Harry."

Neville's quiet voice was surprisingly clear in the cacophony, and a number of others looked up and echoed the greeting. He acknowledged them all with a wave and turned toward the dormitory stairs, intending to drop off his cloak and take a moment to prepare himself before facing the crowd.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and cocked her head toward the stairs, indicating she was ready to listen if he needed to talk. He often did after a meeting with the headmaster, but this time he shook his head slightly and shrugged, indicating that it wasn't necessary. She furrowed her brow slightly in confusion: it wasn't like Dumbledore to interrupt Harry's Saturday with insignificancies, but she let it drop, for which Harry was very grateful.

"Ron put your things on your bed," was all she said.

"Thanks," he replied with a smile, and her rueful shrug in response told him she knew he was more appreciative of the space she was giving him than the information.

Harry was relieved to find the dorm empty; he hadn't seen Dean in the common room and had feared that he would be upstairs. It was much easier to hold his "Cheerful Harry" persona in a room full of people and distractions than it was one-on-one in the privacy of their room, and Dean tended to be more observant than Harry's other roommates. He noticed his parcels on the bed and debated sorting through them, but in the end he decided just to put them in his trunk and deal with them later.

The remainder of the evening was surprisingly painless, though he was unable to recapture the careless joy of earlier that afternoon. The advantage of the large crowd in the common room was that Ron and Hermione were well aware of the need for discretion regarding Harry's training with the Order, and they would not bring up the subject in an unsecured place. The key to avoiding any discussion would be to stay in the group until Dean or Seamus went to bed but to go upstairs before there was no one left in the common room but his closest friends.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Ron and Hermione, he did. He knew that they - Ginny and Neville too, for that matter - were entirely loyal to the Order and committed to helping Harry. Unfortunately, they also had their own personal prejudices, and a discussion about Draco Malfoy and bonds would make them both irrational. He knew that their friendship was solid, and while there would obviously be difficult times, they would eventually be reconciled, but the distance created by the mysteries of the gift of the Firebolt and Harry's inclusion in the Triwizard Tournament had been difficult enough separately; he really didn't want to have to deal with losing both of his best friends, even temporarily, while his life was in a state of upheaval. Even if they would be willing to discuss the situation rationally, the conversation wouldn't end without very long lectures from both of them. Besides, there was no need to ruin their Christmas, too.

As he snuggled under the covers after a long and draining day, he found it surprisingly easy to ignore the small part of him which claimed that he didn't tell them because he'd already made his decision and didn't want to be talked out of it.

Severus Snape was familiar with danger. The slow crawl of fear that began at the base of the spine and climbed with every word and action, every moment that brought one closer to victory or death. It was a sensation he'd nearly forgotten it was possible to live without.

At the moment, however, Severus could not remember a time - not even when he first began his betrayal of the Dark Lord - which had left him so on edge. Then, at least, he'd only to rely on Dumbledore's legendary discretion, of which Severus had been reasonably certain given the information he brought to the Order, and his own skills in misdirection, Occlumency, and intelligence gathering. And Severus had learned at a very early age the hazards of trusting anyone but himself.

After the meeting, Severus was reasonably certain Potter would accept the bond. His Gryffindor-encouraged saviour complex aside, his expression when the discussion turned to the adoption was almost painful in its desire. It was enough to make Severus question exactly which of the rumours that periodically surfaced about Potter's childhood was closest to the truth, and how much of them was based in fact. That he did not know after two years of Occlumency with the boy was cause for a moment of chagrin and determination. Tuesday's training session with Potter would be spent rectifying that state of affairs, a respite from the areas of Severus's life which he could not control.

Snape allowed himself a moment of resentment toward The Boy Who Hesitated.

Until Potter accepted his place in the ritual, both Severus and Draco were in a position too vulnerable for sanity, let alone comfort. Until the connection between Potter and Draco was initiated, Draco was legally bound by filial ties, and even Dumbledore would be unable to thwart a summons from Narcissa for long. Without Potter's protection, Draco would be dead: in agony as the bond consumed his magic and his energy, or as peacefully as Severus's potions could manage it, but dead nevertheless. For all the discussion in Dumbledore's office about Draco's fate at the hand of the Dark Lord, too many of the conversations between Severus and his godson were suspect, and there would be no way to Obliviate the boy sufficiently without it being conspicuous that something was being hidden.

Dumbledore had given Harry the luxury of choice - something rarely offered to Slytherins - and every moment that Potter took advantage of was another moment that increased the likelihood of catastrophe. The intensity of the emotions that Severus was so desperate to hide and the importance of the information he had to block should he be Summoned made his usually-impenetrable shields less stable, and he was not confident they would hold against a direct attack, the headmaster's blithe optimism aside. That he had facilitated conversation between Draco and the Order would be enough to sacrifice his position in the inner circle of the Death Eaters; once the Dark Lord was aware of today's activities, an order for Severus's death would be guaranteed. He'd long accepted that his life would be forfeit in this war, but for it to be given to a child's whim was lowering indeed.

When Draco had come to him with his suspicions and they had established that under the likeliest scenarios Snape could function as the dominus if the bond were opened, there had been a part of him which had been profoundly relieved. After so many years of evading the Dark Lord while standing in his presence, it might be a nice change to do it from a distance. It was then that he'd realized the perils of his time with the Order: prolonged exposure to Gryffindors obviously eroded one's mental competency.

Snape entered his classroom with a sigh of relief. The halls may have been devoid of the majority of students, but there was still the portraits, the ghosts, and the chance of an unlucky meeting, and Severus desperately needed to be alone for a few moments. Preferably in his rooms with a glass of absinthe, but Draco was still in his office, far more anxious than Severus himself, and Death Eater or not, even he wasn't so evil as that.

Before he could deal with another emotionally-fraught conversation, though, he needed a moment to reinforce his Occlumency shields. Given how very much he needed Potter to assume his role in this and how little reason the boy had to aid Draco and Snape, Snape had intended to be as calm and neutral as possible in their meeting. Any one flaring of temper could cause the Golden Boy to stomp out of the room and refuse to listen further, let alone assist. Given the number of looks he'd received from the headmaster, he clearly hadn't done as well as he'd hoped, though Potter had stayed for the duration of the explanation, so he'd obviously done well enough.

Harry, on the other hand, had surpassed all expectations: the boy was becoming very adept at the craft. His protections were subtle, efficient, and strong - not perfect by any stretch of the definition, but better done than would be possible by most adult wizards, nearly unheard of in a boy his age. Severus was aware that the majority of the credit for Potter's improvement was owed to the boy's obstinacy and sheer power, but there was a glimmer of pride in his accomplishment in developing the skill that surfaced, just occasionally.

At present, though, Severus would have liked nothing more than to drop every shield he had and forget that Occlumency existed. He didn't have time to deal with the emotional onslaught that would result and rebuild them again, however, so he simply repaired them as best he could before turning to join Draco in his office.

He opened the door to find his godson sitting with his feet propped on Snape's desk marking one of the first years' essays in an attempt to distract himself from the discussions taking place about his fate. Draco was acting as Snape's unofficial apprentice as part of his N.E.W.T. internship and did much of the marking for the lower year courses, a circumstance heartily approved of by most of the students. Draco was no easier a marker and his comments could not be considered kind, but they were much less caustic than those of the Potions master. Snape had intended to have Draco mark the essays during their session on Monday - the potion they were currently working on was notorious for its simmering time - but thanks to this afternoon's developments, there would be no shortage of tasks to be completed in their stead.

Next to the large stack of completed essays was a half-empty snifter which Severus was inclined to overlook since Draco had suffered a traumatic day, provided it was the first glass and that he had eaten. A quick scan of the table near the fireplace revealed a plate which was not as empty as he would have hoped but had been relieved of more food than he had expected.

"I didn't think it would take that long to convince the headmaster." Draco's tone was nearly flawless in its nonchalance, but the ploy would have been more successful if Severus had not caught his sidelong glance at the foeglass and the slight relaxing of his shoulders which followed.

"Dumbledore and I decided it would be advantageous to speak with Potter alone."

Draco nodded and took his feet off the desk to turn to face Snape. "He wouldn't have been able to refuse if I'd been there. I am aware that it has to be his choice if this is going to work."

"There were a number of reasons," Snape replied carefully, "not the least of which was an uncertainty as to the potential repercussions," both to the bond and any hope they had of any future amicability, "if Potter chose to lash out verbally."

Fortunately, Draco recognized his housemaster's even, deliberate tone for what it was: a suggestion that he take care with his own temper. He nodded again in acknowledgement of both the warning and the comment, and Snape gave Draco a brief recounting of the meeting, downplaying his suspicions about Potter's motivations and highlighting the points at which Potter had requested additional information. "Then he asked if the bond could be ended, what would happen if you weren't to pledge, and left the headmaster's office to consider the matter."

Snape watched Draco sit back in the chair, more relaxed than he'd been all day. He'd recognized then that if Potter was thinking about it, if he was sufficiently tempted that he couldn't dismiss the idea out of hand, then the quintessential Gryffindor would eventually agree. Whatever had kept him from refusing outright would eventually overcome his trepidation and selfish instincts, assuming the Golden Boy had any of either.

Any further speculation was halted by a knock on the office door. As Snape crossed the room to answer it, Draco moved from the professor's desk to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. It was one thing to be impudent to Snape's face; it was quite another to do it in front of witnesses.

Snape opened the door and found Nymphadora Tonks on the other side, looking guilty and defiant, much like she had when she'd arrived for each of her detentions. And they had been many. Her record for cauldron destruction was unbroken, even by Neville Longbottom. To Snape, at least, her appearance this evening was not wholly unexpected. As one of the Aurors in Hogsmeade and a member of the Order, she would have been an obvious choice to report to Dumbledore since she could claim the need to speak with the headmaster about her cousin.

"The headmaster asked me to stop by before I left. Draco Malfoy apparently wants a word, and he thought you'd know where I could find him."

Snape held back a smirk as he watched Draco's face lose any remaining colour when he identified the voice and determined what the headmaster expected them to discuss. He opened the door wider, so Tonks could see his guest. "I do, as it happens. Please come in."

Draco stood and inclined his head just slightly to the left, a signal his godfather recognised from the first parties Lucius had required Draco to attend as a young boy. Training in proper etiquette began early in the Malfoy family and was intense. Names, crests, and other means of identifying guests and their status were to be memorized before each event, and failure to do so was considered a grievous insult by Lucius. Severus had created the subtle sign to enable Draco to let his godfather know when he had forgotten a name without his father becoming aware of his failing. Over time, the sign had evolved - Draco hadn't forgotten a name in nearly ten years - and it had come to be used by either of them to signal that he had never been officially introduced to the other's associate.

Severus was momentarily surprised that the two had never met, though on reflection he couldn't imagine why - Lucius and Narcissa were united in their condemnation of Andromeda's choices, and Tonks was nothing but critical of the remaining members of her mother's family, particularly as her familiarity with Harry increased.

"Auror Tonks, may I present Draco Malfoy."

Draco made a small but perfectly-executed bow in response, but Tonks ignored the pleasantries.

"Let me make this easier - I told your mother in very plain English that I have no intention of relinquishing or abusing my position as your trustee, regardless of whatever threats or incentives she may offer, and that applies to you, too. I may only be a half-blood, but I am as much Black as I am Tonks, and believe me when I say that if I am approached again, you will discover exactly how creative I can be. So if there isn't anything else...?" She turned, uninterested in his response, but stopped when he spoke.

"Actually, I wished to speak with you regarding another matter entirely, but I do thank you for your diligence and honour regarding the trust."

Snape enjoyed the rare sight of a dumbfounded Nymphadora Tonks. Her general lack of grace left her in so many potentially-discomfiting situations that they had become commonplace, and she accepted them carelessly, a quality that Severus admitted, if only to himself, he envied.

"Would you care to sit down, Cousin Tonks?"

Since the girl was too stunned - by Draco's polite tone or form of address? - to respond, Severus moved the chair behind her just slightly so it touched the back of her knees, and she obligingly dropped into it.

"Since when does your family acknowledge the relationship?" was her belligerent response.

"I'm practising disassociating myself from them; I thought this would be a good way to start."

Severus crossed to the cabinet and poured a second glass of brandy. Before setting the bottle down he reconsidered and poured a third. He handed one to Tonks before taking his own seat.

Snape knew that the excessive politeness which was a common form of communication in Slytherin house would not be Draco's best conversation style for this discussion. Hufflepuff that she was, it would only serve to annoy her, and he hoped Draco would realize this sooner rather than later.

"Disassociating?" Her disbelief was clear. "In what way?"

"I'm not going to be a Death Eater, to start."

Snape mentally awarded points on Draco's behalf. To the best of his knowledge, Tonks had never before spit her beverage in shock.

"Why not?" The incredulity would have been flattering if it had come from anyone on the other side. "I thought you were a-" Knowing from his many eavesdropping sessions that the Gryffindor trio were friendly with his cousin, it wasn't hard for Draco to fill in the blank.

"A Death Eater in training?"

She nodded, and he explained the type of service the Dark Lord wanted from him and the complication that had been introduced at his Prīncipium.

The Metamorphmagus was clearly shocked - her hair, which had been a flaming red when she arrived, drained black. Knowing Narcissa was an anomaly in the Black family, Snape assumed it was Tonks' natural colour. Draco's surprise made it evident that he'd never been told of his cousin's talent, but he quickly found it amusing.

When she recovered, her response attested to why she had been accepted into the Auror program. "You want me to stand for you if- If?" when Draco nodded, she continued, "if Harry agrees?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Draco opened his mouth to enumerate the reasons why she was the obvious choice, but something in her face stopped him.

"Because Potter will feel more comfortable with you, and you might appreciate the chance to thwart your aunts."

Nymphadora Tonks threw back her head and laughed.

Hunger.

Harry woke early Sunday morning feeling ravenous and not particularly well rested. Identifying the reason behind his hunger was nearly enough to turn him off the idea of food again. Harry knew he'd be unable to return to sleep even if he did grab some of his chocolate stash to stay his stomach, and none of his roommates were stirring yet, so Harry grabbed his toiletry kit and headed for the prefects' bath - the opportunity to use it, legitimately, was one of the advantages of being Quidditch captain.

Quite a while later, Harry found himself on the way to the library equipped with his Charms text for camouflage, wondering what exactly he was going to tell Ron if he got caught in the library of his own volition early on a Sunday morning.

As expected, it looked like most of the information on Fidelitās Dominō was kept in the Restricted Section - not surprising, given the dangerous nature of the subject. Since Dumbledore had been very specific in his warnings, and Harry wasn't a complete idiot, he assumed that asking Madam Pince for assistance would be a bad idea.

Ignoring the possibility of a pass for the moment, Harry found in the regular collection quite a bit about Eustacia Sigismund and why she had created the bond in the first place. It was a vengeance spell, really, intended to punish the brothers whose swearing of false allegiance led to the betrayal of her father and his murder.

Harry also found a few things which reiterated what he had managed to retain from the meeting - the bond was complicated, uncontrollable, and permanent. He was disconcerted to discover that even with the advantages of equal status within the bond, he would have considerable power over Malfoy. Legally, Malfoy wouldn't even be able to get his Apparition licence or marry without his permission. Thankfully, there was a chance that they wouldn't have to be in each other's pockets all of the time, but it depended on the bond itself and was not something that could be predicted before the bonding.

Seeing the father of the vectigal mentioned on the next page, Harry closed the book and returned to the stacks.

It was very easy to find information on the adoption spell once he discovered that it was generally referred to as the strongest classification of the mentor spells, rather than by a specific name of its own. The Apprenticeship Guilds had woven a number of spells together to ease the magical demands that were needed repeatedly - often daily - through the duration of the apprenticeship. To a certain extent, the apprentice was granted the status of a child of the house: amongst other things, the mentor spells would permit the apprentice to travel through the property wards or to see and enter rooms that were hidden to those not blood kin, while enabling the Guildsmaster to supervise and protect his apprentice from a moderate distance.

Some years after the creation of the combined spell, an enterprising Journeyman modified the mentoring spell in turn, hoping to craft as his masterwork a spell that would create closer ties between he and his wife and their adopted children. Much to their delight, he was successful, and the adoption spell soon became more common than its predecessor. Some traits of the original mentor spells remained, regardless of attempts to understand or alter them: the adoption form of the spell had never been successful on someone older than seventeen, the traditional age one would petition the Guild, and the adopting parent would have to assume custody for no less than three years, the duration of the shortest possible apprenticeship.

It was a simple rite: the power was generated by the intent and emotions of the participants, rather than their magical abilities or the ritual itself. There was a range of types from the mild, which allowed the household wards to recognize fostered children, to the very strong, which essentially replaced a biological parent, complete with physical characteristics, used primarily in cases where the child was conceived in rape. Harry had taken enough Muggle science to be caught off guard by that.

He looked up, then, and realized that it was getting to be late enough that people would be up, even on a post-Hogsmeade Sunday. He closed the book, deliberated for a moment, and decided to borrow the text on mentor spells. It wasn't inconceivable that he'd have heard of them on his own, and whether Madam Pince thought he was interested in a father or a possible apprenticeship after Hogwarts, he didn't think it would be too suspicious.

Neither Ron nor Hermione was in the common room, and only Seamus, snoring loudly, was still in the dorm when Harry tucked his books away. Harry caught up with his friends as they were heading to lunch, and since he really wasn't in the mood to see Dumbledore, Snape, or Malfoy, he convinced them to join him for a picnic in the Room of Requirement. In exchange, he willingly settled down with Hermione and a reluctant Ron for several hours of N.E.W.T. prep in the afternoon. Harry was particularly pleased with the arrangement since his new library book was not terribly large, and Hermione rightly expected that he and Ron were still at the "catching up on the readings" stage of their studying. Harry simply put his small book inside the larger text, curled up on the floor in a corner where no one could come up behind him, and read what he liked. Even better, since he hadn't put up a fuss about studying, when Hermione decided that it was time to test for comprehension, she left Harry alone and only quizzed Ron.

That the prize for correct answers appeared to be a kiss from the examiner made Harry even more pleased that he was being ignored. Suggesting to his friends that they take advantage of the nice weather by walking around the lake before dinner meant that Harry was free to run to the kitchens for something to eat without having to explain why he was avoiding the Great Hall. On Mondays he had a training session with Dumbledore as well as Potions with Snape and the Slytherins, so he would have to face all of them then, but for today he was happy in his world of denial and avoidance.

Much later, when even his year mates had gone up to bed - Hermione with a caution not to stay up too late - Harry was left to his own thoughts. He stared at the fire for a while and played the arguments, both for and against, over and over in his head, as he had all day. Finally, he stood and moved purposefully toward the door. One quick errand and then it was time for bed.

Dear Remus,

Hope you're well. Wednesday's Transfig practical was even harder than McGonagall said it would be, Hermione is sure she lost at least 5 marks.

Saturday was Hogsmeade, Christmas shopping is all done.

Any chance you can come up to Hogwarts? As soon as possible? I'm alright, not in trouble or anything, I just have something I want to talk about.

Best,

Harry
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