Choosing Family: Thicker Than Blood
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This chapter begins with Harry remembering the 'Revenge By Dursley' scene at the end of Thicker Than Water. If you're more interested in plot than character, skip to the second scene.
Once again the chapter took longer than I'd anticipated. I will blame on bridesmaid duties, work, a new kitten, and some brilliant insights from Tithenai, to which I hope I have done justice; I hope, too, that you will find it worthy of the delay.
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.
Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai and Phoenix Writing who have helped make Choosing Family a better story in both style and content.
Additional notes are available before the prologue.
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.
Originally posted 21 Nov. '06; edited version posted 29 Nov. '06
Thicker than Blood
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, half-listening to his friends and pushing his lunch around his plate, too shocked and too drained to remember that he was supposed to be eating.
He'd been so nervous about today's occlumency lesson, knowing Snape would be furious that Harry had never corrected his professor's assumptions about his life with the Dursleys and had, in fact, played to them on occasion. His relationship with Snape had improved greatly since the fiasco that had been Harry's fifth year, but he was afraid that all the time and effort they'd put into building a working relationship that was both functional and mutually respectful would be lost - all because he was too embarrassed to admit how the Dursleys had really treated him.
The surprising thing was that he could understand Snape's anger when he began to suspect the truth. He himself had been betrayed in a similar fashion and knew how much that had hurt, but what he hadn't realized - not in Dumbledore's office after the battle at the Ministry nor in the years since then - was how easy it was to be the betrayer. Now though, he was beginning to understand Dumbledore's excuses for not telling him about the prophesy.
There was no time that seemed 'right' for his confession, either.
He knew that their eventual conversation would be difficult, and he finally decided that rather than initiating it, basically staging a confrontation, he would wait and deal with it when it came up. He just hadn't imagined a scene like the one in the Headmaster's office.
He hadn't expected Snape to let Harry tell the story rather than simply ransacking his memory or dosing him with veritaserum, either.
When Snape demanded he lower his mental protections, Harry was aware that if he agreed to do it, he would have to commit to telling everything. It was much easier to find related memories, which meant that if Harry told part of his life with the Dursleys and Snape had reason to suspect he'd held back, nothing would remain hidden against the mental attack which would follow.
Keeping Voldemort out of his head was one thing; keeping Snape out was another entirely. Not only was Snape a more accomplished legilimens and occlumens than Voldemort - he'd had to be to maintain his position as spy - but after years of lessons, no one, possibly not even Harry himself, was as familiar with the workings of Harry's mind.
His professor would be able to see the summers he'd spent in Surrey, the nightmares, the hours locked in his room with nothing but the guilt he felt about Cedric, Sirius, and his parents... So much of his childhood could be exploited for sport.
The ridicule he'd suffered at the hands of his cousin and classmates for having ill-fitting clothes and broken glasses was unpleasant, and remembering it was certainly not painless, but it was hardly a unique circumstance. Books, television programmes, assemblies at school - they all assured him that there were other children all over the world who dealt with such things all the time.
Eventually, though, he'd realized that all those other 'ugly ducklings' were not sleeping in cupboards under the stairs while everyone else in the household had large bedrooms. That was when he'd realized exactly how much the Dursleys hated him.
He didn't think Snape would use what he learned to humiliate Harry publically - he was pretty sure they were past that - but in private...
A voice in his head (which, oddly, sounded remarkably like Ron's) was still insisting that trusting Snape was wrong, but in the end, he decided to do it anyway.
Harry didn't see how he could expect others to tell him the truth if he wouldn't do the same.
Besides, there was a small part of him that felt Snape deserved it for his horrible treatment of Harry. Once his professor knew the truth, he'd know how completely wrong he'd been.
So with a nod, he'd taken his shields down and began telling the story of Harry Potter: not The Boy Who Lived, but The Charity Case The Dursleys Were Saddled With.
Harry's distraction continued well into his afternoon class, but he didn't feel guilty for his lack of attention. The Confunding Cloud shield spell they were studying in DADA was one he had already learned in his training sessions, and from Malfoy's apparent boredom during the lecture and his confidence in casting at the end of class, Harry was certain it was also review for the Slytherin.
So when the thick, pearly cloud that should have appeared in the air in front of the Slytherin didn't - in fact, absolutely nothing happened - Harry was shocked.
Malfoy wasn't - frustrated, though he masked that expression quickly, but definitely not shocked.
Harry knew Malfoy was having difficulties, but he hadn't expected it to be this drastic. Harry had time to watch Malfoy cast the spell a second time and saw a vague mist, like an early attempt at a patronus, before Professor Morgan noticed he wasn't casting yet. He tried not to feel guilty when his own shield appeared perfectly his first try.
After DADA, when Hermione left for Arithmancy, Harry told Ron he had to research an assignment for Dumbledore - he was getting very good at half-truths - and headed to the library. When Madam Pince saw his Restricted Section pass, she waved him to the correct area, with a warning about the age and fragility of many of the tomes.
Remembering his first foray into the Restricted Section, he wondered if she'd ever given that lecture to the books.
He made his way to the stacks, armed with Dumbledore's list and his own notes. As much as Harry wanted to ignore the Fidelitās Dominō bond entirely and enjoy the possibilities of family offered by the adoption ritual, he was aware that if he was going to give Dumbledore a response by Thursday, he needed to have a better understanding of what the bonding entailed.
Most of what he found in the Restricted Section was the same sort of information he had discovered in the common stacks - romanticized tellings of the legend of the crafting of the spell, vague references to the casting which were usually of the 'be careful or else' variety, and not a great deal that was of practical use.
Before too long, however, he discovered why Dumbledore and Snape had approached him about the possibility of bonding rather than having Malfoy do it himself - aside from the fact that he wouldn't have listened if Malfoy had tried - and why Malfoy hadn't spoken to him about it since then.
Part of the reason for the duration of the bonding ritual, which was intended as a public declaration of unity between two groups, was to ensure that everyone would be aware of it. After the Prīncipium, when the vectigal was tested for sincerity and willingness to bond, the potential domini were evaluated as well, and anyone who was unwilling to bond would be able to subtly make that clear. A lack of suitable candidates for dominus or a direct refusal from one of them would weaken the vectigal, and when he was able to complete the bond he would be more dependent on his dominus and more slavishly obedient to him.
Given the traditionally volatile relationship between Malfoy and the only other speaker of Parseltongue he was likely to meet, Voldemort was clearly taking advantage of his need for secrecy.
A number of the texts Harry read claimed that various elements of the ritual, the strength and timing of each phase of the casting, the intentions and emotions of the participants, astrological signs, etc., were factors in the eventual strength of the bond and the power of the dominus within it, and he reached for the books on his lists which were likely to expand on that.
Several hours, many long arithmancy-filled theories, and one very large headache later, he wished Hermione had been more forceful when they'd selected their electives in third year because, as far as he could tell, none of the proposed theories were conclusive, and some were contradictory.
Most frustratingly, none of the books could tell him how or even if determining the type of bond that would manifest was something he could consciously control or influence. The fantasies he'd had over the better part of six years detailing exactly what he'd like to do to Draco Malfoy had seemed an innocent enough outlet for his frustration at the time - he'd never intended to act on them, after all - but they now terrified him.
One of the few things on which the Restricted Section texts did agree was that whatever chance he and Malfoy had to exist independently after the bonding was unpredictable, which wasn't terribly comforting, really.
Neither was the recommendation in many of the texts that the first part of the bonding be spent in isolation.
Because the two groups using Fidelitās Dominō would most often be from traditionally opposing factions or different cultures, the dominus was given the responsibility of teaching his vectigal the appropriate behaviour and necessary skills for his new position - language, family customs, training in specific duties, and other things of that sort. The time between the Joining and the Acceptance would sometimes be called the "Training Period" for exactly that reason.
The best way for the dominus and vectigal to learn how to behave within their new confines would be to spend the time together, free from outside influences and tension. For a minimum of one week, longer if the duties of those involved permitted, the only people they should have contact with - and only if necessary - were those directly involved in the bonding. It was intended to foster trust and amicability between the pair since in most cases they would not know each other well but would have many prejudices to overcome.
Amongst other things, isolating the bonded couple from the outside world would help prevent the dominus from conditioning unintentional behaviour and would limit the chances of unnecessary and unexpected spells influencing the bond, a circumstance that could have hazardous consequences. There were a number of emotion-based spells and potions that were listed as being particularly dangerous, notably ensnarement potions, a list of suspicion hexes Harry had never heard of, and cheering charms.
The worst case of that sort of violation ever documented occurred in an area with several feuding groups. The two smallest united, using the bond to solidify their allegiance, and a member of the third group, threatened by the alliance, had been creative about destroying it. With access to the bonded couple, he cast the Imperious Curse on the dominus and forced him to train the vectigal to stop breathing on command. The interference was discovered, but not until after the vectigal suffocated because he could not inhale without permission.
After reading that Harry could understand the need for the period of isolation. But it still means, and Harry checked his notes and his calendar to be sure, Voldemort has managed to ruin three consecutive Christmases, four if I blame him for the Yule Ball.
Harry had never been so grateful for a Quidditch practice in his life, though the rest of the Gryffindor team could not agree. With two months and a long holiday break before their match against Hufflepuff, the others might have wondered at Harry's dedication and enthusiasm, but he worked them too hard for idle speculation or unnecessary conversation.
When he finally let his exhausted teammates return to the castle, he stayed on the pitch a while longer, flying in absent circles, wishing there was sufficient light to practice dives that were challenging enough to stop him from thinking.
The room was loud and busy, crowded and colourful. At first glance, it was a typical social event: people were talking, drinking, laughing. Under the surface, however, tension coiled throughout the room, subtle, but impossible to ignore. Deliberately casual shoulder checks and careful phrasing revealed a wariness of eavesdroppers, and glasses frequently met lips without dispensing liquid. Control was everything, and the consequences of losing that control- of tongue, of temper, of situation, of power - were dire if not fatal.
On the dais above the crowd, removed from the bustle, the source of the tension smiled, and the fear in the room increased perceptibly.
Harry sat on an ornate chair, able to observe his guests and making no attempt to hide that he was doing so. Even in the face of all the various entertainments, however, the majority of his attention was focussed on the boy next to him. A bright red ribbon was tied around the pale neck in a jaunty bow, and Harry held the end of it in his hand with deceptive carelessness. He rubbed the silky material idly against his fingers, absently pleased with the texture.
A light tug on the leash and his pet was sitting on his hind quarters with his hands in the air. As a reward, Harry tossed him a lemon drop, which the blond caught in his teeth. Harry gave him a light look of approval for the trick, which the blond acknowledged with a shy smile and a slight blush before quickly ducking his head. He then settled himself on the floor next to Harry, resting his head comfortably on his master's knee.
Harry reached out and combed his fingers through the silky hair, softer than the ribbon by far. He closed his eyes, shutting out the inconsequential masses, and savoured the intense satisfaction and fierce pleasure that this beautiful creature was his.
He opened his eyes to find the common room deserted and the fire out.
Horrified and exhausted, Harry made his way up the stairs to his dorm, grabbed a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and crawled back into bed.
Taking the Dreamless Sleep so late at night meant he slept well past breakfast, not waking until Seamus returned from Divination. Fortunately, he hadn't had a class scheduled first period, but Harry raced to the dungeons in a frantic and hopeless attempt to make it to his second period class on time.
He couldn't hear the cacophony of students preparing their ingredients when he approached the classroom, and, nurturing the hope that Snape was also late, he carefully opened the door.
Of course not. I don't have that kind of luck.
Not only was Snape present, he was facing the door, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, and he paused in his explanation of the day's assignment to comment on Harry's entrance.
"Since you have found time in your schedule to join us, Mr. Potter, I assume that you are aware this is a class. You will have noticed as well that the partner assignments have changed. I trust you can find your seat with greater alacrity and respect for those of us here than you did the classroom."
Harry saw Dean Thomas - the only Gryffindor in the class aside from Hermione and himself - in the front sitting next to Millicent Bulstrode, neither a position nor a pairing that was likely to have been the first choice of either of them. A quick check of the rest of the room confirmed that unless the instructions had been "sit next to the student you like the least," Snape had assigned the partners.
Harry found his place, predictably next to Draco Malfoy, who was too busy taking notes - or pretending to, at least - to acknowledge him. Harry tried to follow the lecture while he pulled his own parchment and quill out of his bag as quickly and quietly as possible.
Pairings from hell aside, the assignment actually sounded as though it could be interesting. Each half of the assigned pair would brew the Animāre Potion, which would enable items coated with it to be animated. Complicated and time consuming, it was largely out of favour in contemporary Wizarding society, since there was a charm which would do the same thing with much less effort. The potions of two brewers, however, could be combined, forming the base for Animaloqui, a potion which would enable two items coated in it to be linked in such a way that they could be used to communicate.
Though Snape specifically mentioned its use in portraiture, Harry realized that it was probably what Sirius and his dad had used to make the mirrors they'd used in detention.
Like many of the potions the seventh-years were studying, this one was more complicated than adding a bunch of ingredients to a cauldron and letting them simmer. In NEWT level Potions, they had been amused to discover, both 'wand-waving and silly incantations' were often needed before, during, and after the brewing. In this instance, there would be both - and a great deal of preparation and research besides - and most of it would have to be done with their partners.
Because Animaloqui would rely on the magical signatures of the brewers, the ingredients used in Animāre would not be the same for each student in the class, and because they would be combining their potions with their partner's, the partner's signature would need to be considered as well, to ensure compatibility.
There was also a charm that would show a magical signature, though they hadn't learned it yet.
Snape informed them with a malicious sort of satisfaction that it was on the syllabus for NEWT Charms, and they would be repeating the assignment once they had learned it, with the same partners, for comparison.
In the meantime, they would have to use other methods.
Because the students had not taken identical electives, they would need to use an assortment of things they had learned in Potions and in other classes - primarily Divination, Arithmancy, and Charms - to calculate their own ingredients, and they would need to get information from their partners to ensure compatibility.
The class worked silently for the rest of the period, listing charms and arithmantic equations, figuring out astrological signs and signifiers, and anything else that could be of use.
The man is diabolical, really, Harry thought while he worked. The assignment and the designated pairs would be the perfect cover for the time Harry and Malfoy would have to spend together preparing for and adapting to the bonding, as well as the information they would inevitably learn in the process. Harry wasn't sure how long they would be able to keep the bonding or the adoptions a secret, or even if they would want to, but he assumed they would, at least for a while.
Given the benefits if Harry agreed, it was a great cover, but because there was only a limited amount time before the holiday break, they couldn't postpone it a week simply because Harry hadn't yet decided. Besides, if Harry were to say no, Snape would probably also think the misery of working so closely with the other boy was deserved.
At the end of the class Harry packed his things quickly, eager to leave, but he was stopped by the quiet voice of the boy next to him.
"My birthday's on the thirteenth of this month. What else do you need to know?"
When Harry looked over to reply, everything and everyone faded out of his vision, and he couldn't see anything but Malfoy with a ribbon around his neck that was nearly glowing in the dim lighting of the Potions classroom. He blinked in shock, shook his head to clear it, and the world righted itself. The other boy's look of carefully distant inquiry wavered slightly, then hardened into the familiar Malfoy mask when Harry picked up his things and left without a word in response.
As he headed toward the stairs, a strong and determined hand grabbed his arm from behind, forcing him out of the throng of students and into a nearby empty classroom. The door shut with an ominous click, and his best friend rounded on him.
"Harry James Potter! What the hell was that?"
Harry stared at her blankly, too caught in his nightmare to identify Hermione's problem.
"All of the arguments we've had with Ron this year about maturity and respect and House Unity! You agreed with me! How can you berate Ron for his behaviour toward Slytherins in general, Malfoy in particular, and then act like that?!"
Harry winced, only partially because of her shrill tone. When they received their Hogwarts letters and discovered that Draco Malfoy had been named Head Boy, Hermione and Harry had begun to campaign for a cease-fire between the two most volatile Houses at Hogwarts.
Voldemort lost a powerful ally when Lucius Malfoy had been arrested, and the Death Eater attacks were not nearly as well organized or effective. The Order had been nearly as stymied as they had been grateful for Voldemort's refusal to even attempt to free him from Azkaban until last spring. An additional and equally unexpected benefit had been that with his father in jail and the Death Eaters having less success and influence under the new minister, Draco had been less vocal and less antagonistic than in previous years. It was part of why he'd been chosen as Head Boy and how Harry and Hermione had managed to convince Ron and many of the other Gryffindors to stop baiting Slytherins and, more importantly, to restrain themselves when baited. It was intended as an appeal to neutral Slytherins, and it had been at least somewhat successful - at least until Harry publicly snubbed their leader.
"You were - That was just - mean! He was trying to be nice!"
Oh, Bloody Hell.
His brain finally caught up, and he realized how much worse the situation was than Hermione knew. Draco Malfoy, a vectigal, had just made a friendly overture to his chosen dominus which had been deliberately and publically ignored. Harry's mind scrambled, trying to calculate the repercussions of his carelessness while Hermione continued her rant, "It's reciprocal magic, Harry! The brewers need to work together for the potion to work. You can't just take my notes and make do this time. You need to talk to him - and an apology wouldn't hurt!
When Harry didn't respond, she threw her hands in the air. "He's growing up! How long will it take you?" With that, she stormed off to the door.
Once there, she stopped abruptly and, without turning to face him, traced the wood grain on the door.
"And Harry?" Her voice was very quiet, but it resonated in the silence that had fallen once she stopped shouting. "Whatever it is that's bothering you lately?" He made a non-committal noise, which she seemed to interpret as an invitation to continue. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"
With his eyes closed, he didn't know if she turned and saw his small nod, but she didn't say another word. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
Transfiguration was not a great success, even with the use of the notes Hermione had lent him, and when Harry returned them to her, she thanked him in a chilly tone that made it clear he had not yet been forgiven. Fortunately, Ron was able to act as a buffer during the double period class. He'd noticed the tension, of course, but for once he didn't press when both Hermione and Harry refused to explain.
Dinner, on the other hand, was made easier by the absence of Draco, at least until Harry learned why he was missing: he'd been sent to the hospital wing after collapsing rather dramatically in the middle of class. Parvati and Lavender were able to contribute that, according to the gossip mill, he hadn't been well in Charms earlier that afternoon, either.
Harry grew silent, feeling guiltier with every word spoken. It was horrible, knowing that all the physical pain, the inconstant magic, the emotional uncertainty, it all stemmed from Draco's hope that Harry could help save him and his fear that Harry would refuse to do it.
Snape was avoiding looking at the Gryffindor table, and Harry wondered how much of that was because the Head of Slytherin didn't want his glares to negatively influence Harry's decision.
He knew he was Draco's best option, and it was terrifying. His inability to make a decision about the bonding, his thoughtless remarks earlier - it had only been four days, and he'd already landed the other boy in the hospital wing. They'd be tied together for life, which in Harry's case that was not guaranteed to be very long; what kind of dominus would he be?
Speculation of a different sort continued throughout the meal as the Gryffindors suggested increasingly preposterous reasons for Malfoy's illness. Harry had just decided that he was finished - both eating and listening to the theories about Malfoy - when Professor McGonagall stopped by their table on her way out of the Great Hall and asked him to follow her.
He stood, pretending not to notice the curious looks of his friends, but his enthusiasm for leaving the table dampened considerably just outside the entrance.
Draco Malfoy stopped short a few steps from the bottom of the staircase and reached for the railing in a movement that was too controlled to call 'clutching', but only just.
"Are you alright, Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in a tone that was brisk but not unkind.
"Yes, thank you," he replied politely. He must have seen suspicion in her gaze because he added, "Madam Pomfrey said I'll be fine once I've eaten and sent me to join the others."
She nodded and waved Harry forward. "Come along, Potter."
Harry knew he couldn't leave Malfoy to wonder all night, not after the afternoon he'd suffered, but he wasn't ready to commit to anything yet, either. The most he could do was make sure Malfoy knew where things stood. Assuming Malfoy knew about Harry's familial situation and options - he was sure Snape would have told him if he hadn't known already - the Gryffindor gave Malfoy a pointed look and started up the stairs.
"Do you know if Remus has arrived yet?" he asked at a volume he knew would carry to the other boy, hoping that would be enough.
Harry grimaced when he felt the hated tug on his navel and stumbled into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.
The Headmaster had received word that unexpected visitors from the Ministry were on their way to Hogwarts and decided that, in order to ensure sufficient privacy and security for as long as necessary, Harry would join Remus at Grimmauld Place.
He put the chipped tea cup Dumbledore had given him as a portkey on the kitchen table and headed upstairs.
In the two and a half years since he'd first seen the house, it had undergone an astounding transformation. First and foremost, Kreacher was gone, relegated to the kitchens at Hogwarts with specific instructions to neither harm anyone nor speak unless Harry or Dumbledore were present, and Dobby had been thrilled to watch him.
The house still wasn't perfect, but extensive cleaning and redecorating made it look like a home, if not his home. Not that he'd ever had a proper one, but he knew what he wanted, and there were too many accommodations for the Order for it to feel entirely right. Mrs. Black was still there as well, but the curtain covering her had been given the twins' best permanent sticking charm. It wasn't quite the strength of the one used to hold the portrait to the wall, and Molly could break it if she really wanted, but she decidedly didn't.
He found Remus exactly where he'd expected: upstairs in the library.
Remus was the only one in residence at the moment, but others could drop by, so once the pleasantries were out of the way, privacy wards were set, and they settled comfortably on the couch. Remus looked at him expectantly, and Harry mentally sorted through the events of the last few days, the parts he wanted to tell, the parts he didn't. "I don't know where to start," he admitted finally.
"The beginning is usually a good place."
Harry tried to smile at Remus's teasing tone but shrugged, uncertain where exactly that was. Remus seemed to understand and said, "Jump in the middle, then, and we'll muddle through the best we can."
"It's about the Ministry's mentoring spell."
Next to him on the couch, Remus stilled for a moment before asking, "You're interested in an Apprenticeship?"
Harry shook his head, then shrugged again. "I just found out about the adoption part of the spell; it came up in a discussion about something else." There was a small frayed spot on the arm of the sofa, and, not wanting to see Remus's expression, Harry picked at it. "I just wondered... if... you know..."
One of Remus's best qualities was that he didn't just watch while you floundered.
"Have I ever considered the possibility of adopting you?" Harry didn't even have time to nod before Remus answered, "Yes. Immediately after Sirius died, of course, and many times both before and since."
"Then why didn't...?"
"The Wizarding world won't let werewolves teach their children; it certainly doesn't want us to raise them." Harry heard the bitterness that Remus was usually careful to keep hidden. "Any attempt to do so by concealing the condition is punishable by a long stay in Azkaban. Knowing what I know now about your life with the Dursleys..." He paused and eventually shook his head.
"Even without the blood protections from your mother, the Dursleys did seem the best option available at the time. Few Wizarding households would have been able to protect you from the madness of being 'The Boy Who Lived.'" Harry made a face, uncertain which disgusted him more, the Dursleys or the stupid title.
"I wish Dumbledore had chosen another path," Remus continued. "At the time though... I wanted to take you, of course, but there was no way I could have done so without revealing my lycanthropy. The chances of a single man being granted custody of any child were slim enough, a werewolf doing so was unheard of, but if the child was Harry Potter? It would have been impossible. Especially with so many fine, upstanding, Wizarding families ready to take you in. Knowing the emphasis the Old Families place on blood, it won't surprise you that blood relationships are always preserved when possible, and in your case, it was the only thing preventing a lengthy court assessment. The petitions for custody were overwhelming; without a living relative, it would have been necessary to entertain them. Even the Malfoys intended to offer for you."
Harry started.
"Indeed." Remus assumed an affected air. "The Potters took in Narcissa's cousin, you know, and it was only fair that they return the favour. You'd have a playmate in young Draco, and Lucius could train you to manage your inheritance." He returned to his normal voice. "Lucius was a prominent Ministry official, cleared of any culpability for his actions in support of Voldemort, and likely to be supportive of keeping you in the public eye; they would have pushed that through the Wizengamot before you could say 'Quidditch'. It was the end of a long, difficult war, and the Wizengamot was trying to piece Wizarding society together again. They would have supported the old pureblood family.
"Last year, after Sirius, the only thing you were enthusiastic about was leaving the Dursleys and being an adult. I assumed that you weren't interested. Your best friends are children of some of the oldest pure-blood families and the best-read witch at Hogwarts; it never occurred to me that you wouldn't know it was possible."
"Snape said something like that, that I was lacking in knowledge of Wizarding Culture." Harry said quietly.
"It's understandable, given your history," Remus reassured him. "We all tend to forget, I think, that you returned to a repressively Muggle household each summer. Severus, particularly, would find it difficult to comprehend, given his own background. He..." Remus paused, searching for the right words or deciding how much to say.
Snape never spoke about his past, and Remus was rarely willing to gossip on any subject, so Harry was tempted to see how much he could learn, but, Gryffindor or not, he didn't think he'd have the courage to broach the topic again. Before Remus could continue, he interrupted, "Would you still want to? I mean, I know I'm legally an adult, but I'm only seventeen, so I can choose to revert my status, so if you were willing - "
Harry felt Remus move closer to him on the couch, but he didn't look up until fingers under his chin stopped the babble and lifted his face. The older man didn't speak until Harry met his gaze, and once he did, Harry didn't need to hear Remus's response.
"Of course I want to and am willing - more than anything, Harry."
Too happy to worry about what would happen when he confessed about the Fidelitās Dominō ritual, Harry grinned, trying very hard to keep from launching himself into Remus's arms.
His new father-to-be must have sensed his dilemma or maybe he was suffering from the same bubbling joy because he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. That in itself felt strange but in a nice way: Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and occasionally Ginny were the only ones who hugged him, really, and hugging Remus was very different.
They talked for a little while longer, but Harry found it hard to focus with the whirlwind of emotion inside him - joy, obviously, guilt that he hadn't yet explained about Fidelitās Dominō, fear that once he did everything would fall apart, fear of what he would have to do if it didn't.
He knew he would have to explain, and soon, but he really didn't want to tarnish the moment.
Before too long, though, his sleepless nights caught up with him, and after his third yawn, Remus suggested that it was time for bed. Harry stiffened involuntarily, and Remus noticed.
"Is there something else, Harry?" He gave Harry a searching look. "Are you certain this is what you want?"
"It really is," Harry said earnestly, but Remus's expression was still concerned. "It came up- I found out about it because of something else, and I'll tell you about it, but if I'd found out about it, you know, randomly, and it was possible, I'd have asked you anyway. I think you'd be a really great dad."
He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth to tell Remus everything, but before any sound came out, he closed it again. When he did finally speak what came out was, "Can tonight be just about this? I'll explain everything else tomorrow, I promise. I don't have classes in the morning, and the headmaster said I could stay until lunch. Please?"
Remus still looked worried, but he eventually nodded. "Of course."
Snape missed dinner on Thursday, being forced to supervise the cleanup of a rather spectacular potions accident. The concoction that covered the walls of his classroom was dangerously reactive, highly toxic, and very, very foul-smelling. Given the volatile nature of the ingredients, Snape was required to be present to ensure that no magic was used: cleaning spells in combination with that mess would have disastrous consequences. In the few moments he had after the cleaning was finished, he detoured past the kitchens before arriving at the parlour-style room in which they were holding CATS: Theory of the Dark Arts.
Draco was the first of the students to enter, scanning the room quickly. Seeing only his godfather, his shoulders dropped dejectedly before he remembered himself and straightened. He turned to Severus, who shook his head before the boy had time to hope.
"He wasn't at dinner?"
"No." His godson's reply was petulant, and reminiscent of the child he had been; under other circumstances it would have been amusing. "The Headmaster was there, but if he was trying to communicate anything I didn't understand. He had the same expression he always has, and I don't speak twinkle."
The door opened then, and though they both took care to hide it, they were disappointed that the student entering was not Potter, as it meant any further discussion would have to wait until after class.
The Gryffindor in question did eventually arrive, but there was no indication what his decision was or even if he had made one.
Malfoy and Potter sat in their usual places, as far apart as they could be without being directly opposite and having to face each other for the duration of the class. There wasn't much chance to hide in CATS:DA since the class consisted of only Snape and four students.
Harry Potter had taken the course much to the consternation of Molly Weasley, who gave both Harry and Snape several lectures on the matter when she saw the text list. Severus, too, had been surprised; he hadn't expected the Golden Boy to be willing to challenge the prejudices of his House and the Wizarding World, even if he would be likely to need the knowledge to defeat Voldemort. Harry's application to the course had even expressed a desire to know the enemy and, given his own Dark talent, more about himself.
Descended from two respected Pureblood lines, Morag McDougall, Ravenclaw, was the enigma. Her father was not too distantly related to Minerva McGonagall, while her mother's family had been welcomed at Grimmauld Place by Walburga Black. The girl's own loyalties were uncertain - one of the reasons she'd been accepted. Her application to the course and her participation in it were typical of her House, but was her need to impress merely a thirst for knowledge or was she hoping to eventually join the Death Eaters? After three months, Snape was still undecided.
Theodore Nott had been offered a place in the course for reasons that were similar to his Ravenclaw counterpart. In addition to placing among the highest of his year academically, Theodore had the sense to stay out of the politics of Slytherin House as much as possible. He wasn't part of any particular group nor did he have any particular enemies. Neither the arrest of Nott Senior - an older Death Eater, valued more for his dedication than competence, captured at the Ministry a year and a half ago - nor his liberation this spring had any noticeable effect on the boy, his status amongst his classmates, or whatever allegiances he might have. His particular interests seemed to lean toward areas of jurisprudence, suggesting to Snape that he intended to weather the war from a position in the Ministry.
It would doubtless surprise many, however, that Draco Malfoy had not chosen to take the course in preparation for a career as a Death Eater, that he was not, in fact, even taking the course voluntarily. He had applied as part of the compromise he had negotiated with his mother when it was time to choose his seventh year schedule. He'd had no real reason to refuse her demand, since it would be an easy grade - not because it was being taught by his godfather, but because he had prior, practical experience in the subject; and he had every reason to acquiesce since agreeing to take it in addition to his Potions apprenticeship had given him necessary leverage.
Severus had been pleased, since it provided him with an opportunity to point out how illogical, petty, and narrow-minded many of the Dark Lord's tenets were, as well as the infeasibility of his schemes to implement them.
As Draco's godfather and Head of House, Severus had tried to influence him, to provide an alternative to his father's blind arrogance and delusions of supremacy. Draco was volatile and hard-headed, but he had a good brain when he chose to use it; unfortunately, given Snape's current public stance as the Headmaster's pet Death Eater, there had been limits - and there still were to a certain extent - to how much he could say, even without considering the Dark Lord or, in earlier years, the threat of his return. Lucius had painted Dumbledore as the enemy, more so than the Boy Who Lived, at least through Draco's childhood, since Lucius had intended the boys to be friends once they began at Hogwarts. It was a delicate balance, trying to encourage the boy to see other perspectives without pushing him too far.
It had been even more so this term: despite showing increased maturity and restraint since the departure of that Umbridge woman and his deft handling of his duties as Head Boy in spite of the resentment of a number of his classmates, there was still some cause for concern. Draco had taken to spending long periods of time alone, usually in the library or his room, occasionally in the potions lab. It was not typical behaviour - his unlikely friendship with Crabbe and Goyle had been largely based on his need for an audience. Not knowing the reason for the change, it was especially worrisome.
Clearly, at least some progress had been made, regardless. Draco had been willing to discuss his doubts about his expected future, however obliquely, and he had come to Severus with his suspicions about the bonding.
Regardless of whether he did so believing Bella's insinuations that Snape was still Dumbledore's spy or if he was terrified that they were false, it was a courageous and doubtless difficult choice to make, and Severus was both proud and thankful that he had, though it would make the betrayal even greater when the boy discovered that Snape was the highest-ranked spy the Order had amongst the Death Eaters.
He had toyed with the idea of telling Draco before this, and probably should have, but if anything were to go wrong, Snape would have a chance - small, but a chance nonetheless - to excuse his actions, but not if the Dark Lord possessed the irrefutable proof of a confession. At this point, the risk was hardly worth it, as Draco would have to be told next week regardless, assuming they would be performing the bonding ritual.
The Slytherin in him was appalled, but Severus was actually lamenting the disappearance of the charge-ahead Gryffindor hero.
Draco coughed slightly, and Snape realized with a start that it was well-passed time for class to begin. He pushed his personal thoughts aside to lay the foundation for a discussion on necromancy.
He asked Harry to remain after class.
Unable to sit still while the students gathered their things and unwilling to give into the temptation to pace, he walked slowly to the window and stared towards the Quidditch pitch, though it was too dark to see anything.
"Is Malfoy ok?"
Considering how callously out of character the Gryffindor had been behaving, his seemingly sincere concern now was grating, but Snape held his temper and replied, "He is coherent and mobile, which rates an 'Acceptable' on our current standard."
He watched via the reflection in the window as Potter took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it and looking at the floor.
When he repeated the pattern twice more, Severus decided he couldn't wait for the boy to remember how to say 'no.'
Twenty years ago, he had promised himself that he would never again beg for anything from anyone. For twenty years, he had kept his word, even in the face of Dumbledore's righteous pity or the Dark Lord's most creative torture, even as he broke every other vow he had ever made.
But now, here, he would be forsworn in this, too.
Rather than watch the reflection of his latest failure, he closed his eyes briefly before he spoke.
"Please, Harry." The boy's head snapped up, and Snape was relieved to discover that, unlike pride, grim amusement was an emotion that was not lost to him. "I know-"
"I'll do it," Potter interrupted breathlessly. "Remus said yes, and I chose Eustacia Sigismund in Charms this afternoon. I'm sorry. I told the Headmaster after lunch, but I guess he didn't have a chance to tell you. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Clearly, he would have to have words with Albus and not all of Potter's rambling made sense, but at this precise moment, Snape was too relieved to speak or to care.
"We'll discuss the details tomorrow afternoon," Severus managed when the boy's babbling drifted to an end. Thankfully recognizing the comment for the dismissal it was, Harry nodded, picked up his bag, and left the room.
On his way out, Harry noticed Malfoy standing in the hall, not even pretending that he was doing anything but waiting for them to finish.
"Malfoy," he said neutrally. He continued down the hall and up the stairs without looking back to see the blond close his eyes as he collapsed against the wall or the Potions master watch them both with a concerned scowl.
I have received word that you are unwell. This concerns me grievously after so much
has been done to ensure your health and future. If the strain of separation from
those who are most concerned with your welfare is too great, inform me at once,
and I will arrange for you to return immediately.
M
Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
This chapter begins with Harry remembering the 'Revenge By Dursley' scene at the end of Thicker Than Water. If you're more interested in plot than character, skip to the second scene.
Once again the chapter took longer than I'd anticipated. I will blame on bridesmaid duties, work, a new kitten, and some brilliant insights from Tithenai, to which I hope I have done justice; I hope, too, that you will find it worthy of the delay.
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.
Particular thanks must be given to Tithenai and Phoenix Writing who have helped make Choosing Family a better story in both style and content.
Additional notes are available before the prologue.
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.
Originally posted 21 Nov. '06; edited version posted 29 Nov. '06
Thicker than Blood
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, half-listening to his friends and pushing his lunch around his plate, too shocked and too drained to remember that he was supposed to be eating.
He'd been so nervous about today's occlumency lesson, knowing Snape would be furious that Harry had never corrected his professor's assumptions about his life with the Dursleys and had, in fact, played to them on occasion. His relationship with Snape had improved greatly since the fiasco that had been Harry's fifth year, but he was afraid that all the time and effort they'd put into building a working relationship that was both functional and mutually respectful would be lost - all because he was too embarrassed to admit how the Dursleys had really treated him.
The surprising thing was that he could understand Snape's anger when he began to suspect the truth. He himself had been betrayed in a similar fashion and knew how much that had hurt, but what he hadn't realized - not in Dumbledore's office after the battle at the Ministry nor in the years since then - was how easy it was to be the betrayer. Now though, he was beginning to understand Dumbledore's excuses for not telling him about the prophesy.
There was no time that seemed 'right' for his confession, either.
He knew that their eventual conversation would be difficult, and he finally decided that rather than initiating it, basically staging a confrontation, he would wait and deal with it when it came up. He just hadn't imagined a scene like the one in the Headmaster's office.
He hadn't expected Snape to let Harry tell the story rather than simply ransacking his memory or dosing him with veritaserum, either.
When Snape demanded he lower his mental protections, Harry was aware that if he agreed to do it, he would have to commit to telling everything. It was much easier to find related memories, which meant that if Harry told part of his life with the Dursleys and Snape had reason to suspect he'd held back, nothing would remain hidden against the mental attack which would follow.
Keeping Voldemort out of his head was one thing; keeping Snape out was another entirely. Not only was Snape a more accomplished legilimens and occlumens than Voldemort - he'd had to be to maintain his position as spy - but after years of lessons, no one, possibly not even Harry himself, was as familiar with the workings of Harry's mind.
His professor would be able to see the summers he'd spent in Surrey, the nightmares, the hours locked in his room with nothing but the guilt he felt about Cedric, Sirius, and his parents... So much of his childhood could be exploited for sport.
The ridicule he'd suffered at the hands of his cousin and classmates for having ill-fitting clothes and broken glasses was unpleasant, and remembering it was certainly not painless, but it was hardly a unique circumstance. Books, television programmes, assemblies at school - they all assured him that there were other children all over the world who dealt with such things all the time.
Eventually, though, he'd realized that all those other 'ugly ducklings' were not sleeping in cupboards under the stairs while everyone else in the household had large bedrooms. That was when he'd realized exactly how much the Dursleys hated him.
He didn't think Snape would use what he learned to humiliate Harry publically - he was pretty sure they were past that - but in private...
A voice in his head (which, oddly, sounded remarkably like Ron's) was still insisting that trusting Snape was wrong, but in the end, he decided to do it anyway.
Harry didn't see how he could expect others to tell him the truth if he wouldn't do the same.
Besides, there was a small part of him that felt Snape deserved it for his horrible treatment of Harry. Once his professor knew the truth, he'd know how completely wrong he'd been.
So with a nod, he'd taken his shields down and began telling the story of Harry Potter: not The Boy Who Lived, but The Charity Case The Dursleys Were Saddled With.
Harry's distraction continued well into his afternoon class, but he didn't feel guilty for his lack of attention. The Confunding Cloud shield spell they were studying in DADA was one he had already learned in his training sessions, and from Malfoy's apparent boredom during the lecture and his confidence in casting at the end of class, Harry was certain it was also review for the Slytherin.
So when the thick, pearly cloud that should have appeared in the air in front of the Slytherin didn't - in fact, absolutely nothing happened - Harry was shocked.
Malfoy wasn't - frustrated, though he masked that expression quickly, but definitely not shocked.
Harry knew Malfoy was having difficulties, but he hadn't expected it to be this drastic. Harry had time to watch Malfoy cast the spell a second time and saw a vague mist, like an early attempt at a patronus, before Professor Morgan noticed he wasn't casting yet. He tried not to feel guilty when his own shield appeared perfectly his first try.
After DADA, when Hermione left for Arithmancy, Harry told Ron he had to research an assignment for Dumbledore - he was getting very good at half-truths - and headed to the library. When Madam Pince saw his Restricted Section pass, she waved him to the correct area, with a warning about the age and fragility of many of the tomes.
Remembering his first foray into the Restricted Section, he wondered if she'd ever given that lecture to the books.
He made his way to the stacks, armed with Dumbledore's list and his own notes. As much as Harry wanted to ignore the Fidelitās Dominō bond entirely and enjoy the possibilities of family offered by the adoption ritual, he was aware that if he was going to give Dumbledore a response by Thursday, he needed to have a better understanding of what the bonding entailed.
Most of what he found in the Restricted Section was the same sort of information he had discovered in the common stacks - romanticized tellings of the legend of the crafting of the spell, vague references to the casting which were usually of the 'be careful or else' variety, and not a great deal that was of practical use.
Before too long, however, he discovered why Dumbledore and Snape had approached him about the possibility of bonding rather than having Malfoy do it himself - aside from the fact that he wouldn't have listened if Malfoy had tried - and why Malfoy hadn't spoken to him about it since then.
Part of the reason for the duration of the bonding ritual, which was intended as a public declaration of unity between two groups, was to ensure that everyone would be aware of it. After the Prīncipium, when the vectigal was tested for sincerity and willingness to bond, the potential domini were evaluated as well, and anyone who was unwilling to bond would be able to subtly make that clear. A lack of suitable candidates for dominus or a direct refusal from one of them would weaken the vectigal, and when he was able to complete the bond he would be more dependent on his dominus and more slavishly obedient to him.
Given the traditionally volatile relationship between Malfoy and the only other speaker of Parseltongue he was likely to meet, Voldemort was clearly taking advantage of his need for secrecy.
A number of the texts Harry read claimed that various elements of the ritual, the strength and timing of each phase of the casting, the intentions and emotions of the participants, astrological signs, etc., were factors in the eventual strength of the bond and the power of the dominus within it, and he reached for the books on his lists which were likely to expand on that.
Several hours, many long arithmancy-filled theories, and one very large headache later, he wished Hermione had been more forceful when they'd selected their electives in third year because, as far as he could tell, none of the proposed theories were conclusive, and some were contradictory.
Most frustratingly, none of the books could tell him how or even if determining the type of bond that would manifest was something he could consciously control or influence. The fantasies he'd had over the better part of six years detailing exactly what he'd like to do to Draco Malfoy had seemed an innocent enough outlet for his frustration at the time - he'd never intended to act on them, after all - but they now terrified him.
One of the few things on which the Restricted Section texts did agree was that whatever chance he and Malfoy had to exist independently after the bonding was unpredictable, which wasn't terribly comforting, really.
Neither was the recommendation in many of the texts that the first part of the bonding be spent in isolation.
Because the two groups using Fidelitās Dominō would most often be from traditionally opposing factions or different cultures, the dominus was given the responsibility of teaching his vectigal the appropriate behaviour and necessary skills for his new position - language, family customs, training in specific duties, and other things of that sort. The time between the Joining and the Acceptance would sometimes be called the "Training Period" for exactly that reason.
The best way for the dominus and vectigal to learn how to behave within their new confines would be to spend the time together, free from outside influences and tension. For a minimum of one week, longer if the duties of those involved permitted, the only people they should have contact with - and only if necessary - were those directly involved in the bonding. It was intended to foster trust and amicability between the pair since in most cases they would not know each other well but would have many prejudices to overcome.
Amongst other things, isolating the bonded couple from the outside world would help prevent the dominus from conditioning unintentional behaviour and would limit the chances of unnecessary and unexpected spells influencing the bond, a circumstance that could have hazardous consequences. There were a number of emotion-based spells and potions that were listed as being particularly dangerous, notably ensnarement potions, a list of suspicion hexes Harry had never heard of, and cheering charms.
The worst case of that sort of violation ever documented occurred in an area with several feuding groups. The two smallest united, using the bond to solidify their allegiance, and a member of the third group, threatened by the alliance, had been creative about destroying it. With access to the bonded couple, he cast the Imperious Curse on the dominus and forced him to train the vectigal to stop breathing on command. The interference was discovered, but not until after the vectigal suffocated because he could not inhale without permission.
After reading that Harry could understand the need for the period of isolation. But it still means, and Harry checked his notes and his calendar to be sure, Voldemort has managed to ruin three consecutive Christmases, four if I blame him for the Yule Ball.
Harry had never been so grateful for a Quidditch practice in his life, though the rest of the Gryffindor team could not agree. With two months and a long holiday break before their match against Hufflepuff, the others might have wondered at Harry's dedication and enthusiasm, but he worked them too hard for idle speculation or unnecessary conversation.
When he finally let his exhausted teammates return to the castle, he stayed on the pitch a while longer, flying in absent circles, wishing there was sufficient light to practice dives that were challenging enough to stop him from thinking.
The room was loud and busy, crowded and colourful. At first glance, it was a typical social event: people were talking, drinking, laughing. Under the surface, however, tension coiled throughout the room, subtle, but impossible to ignore. Deliberately casual shoulder checks and careful phrasing revealed a wariness of eavesdroppers, and glasses frequently met lips without dispensing liquid. Control was everything, and the consequences of losing that control- of tongue, of temper, of situation, of power - were dire if not fatal.
On the dais above the crowd, removed from the bustle, the source of the tension smiled, and the fear in the room increased perceptibly.
Harry sat on an ornate chair, able to observe his guests and making no attempt to hide that he was doing so. Even in the face of all the various entertainments, however, the majority of his attention was focussed on the boy next to him. A bright red ribbon was tied around the pale neck in a jaunty bow, and Harry held the end of it in his hand with deceptive carelessness. He rubbed the silky material idly against his fingers, absently pleased with the texture.
A light tug on the leash and his pet was sitting on his hind quarters with his hands in the air. As a reward, Harry tossed him a lemon drop, which the blond caught in his teeth. Harry gave him a light look of approval for the trick, which the blond acknowledged with a shy smile and a slight blush before quickly ducking his head. He then settled himself on the floor next to Harry, resting his head comfortably on his master's knee.
Harry reached out and combed his fingers through the silky hair, softer than the ribbon by far. He closed his eyes, shutting out the inconsequential masses, and savoured the intense satisfaction and fierce pleasure that this beautiful creature was his.
He opened his eyes to find the common room deserted and the fire out.
Horrified and exhausted, Harry made his way up the stairs to his dorm, grabbed a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and crawled back into bed.
Taking the Dreamless Sleep so late at night meant he slept well past breakfast, not waking until Seamus returned from Divination. Fortunately, he hadn't had a class scheduled first period, but Harry raced to the dungeons in a frantic and hopeless attempt to make it to his second period class on time.
He couldn't hear the cacophony of students preparing their ingredients when he approached the classroom, and, nurturing the hope that Snape was also late, he carefully opened the door.
Of course not. I don't have that kind of luck.
Not only was Snape present, he was facing the door, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, and he paused in his explanation of the day's assignment to comment on Harry's entrance.
"Since you have found time in your schedule to join us, Mr. Potter, I assume that you are aware this is a class. You will have noticed as well that the partner assignments have changed. I trust you can find your seat with greater alacrity and respect for those of us here than you did the classroom."
Harry saw Dean Thomas - the only Gryffindor in the class aside from Hermione and himself - in the front sitting next to Millicent Bulstrode, neither a position nor a pairing that was likely to have been the first choice of either of them. A quick check of the rest of the room confirmed that unless the instructions had been "sit next to the student you like the least," Snape had assigned the partners.
Harry found his place, predictably next to Draco Malfoy, who was too busy taking notes - or pretending to, at least - to acknowledge him. Harry tried to follow the lecture while he pulled his own parchment and quill out of his bag as quickly and quietly as possible.
Pairings from hell aside, the assignment actually sounded as though it could be interesting. Each half of the assigned pair would brew the Animāre Potion, which would enable items coated with it to be animated. Complicated and time consuming, it was largely out of favour in contemporary Wizarding society, since there was a charm which would do the same thing with much less effort. The potions of two brewers, however, could be combined, forming the base for Animaloqui, a potion which would enable two items coated in it to be linked in such a way that they could be used to communicate.
Though Snape specifically mentioned its use in portraiture, Harry realized that it was probably what Sirius and his dad had used to make the mirrors they'd used in detention.
Like many of the potions the seventh-years were studying, this one was more complicated than adding a bunch of ingredients to a cauldron and letting them simmer. In NEWT level Potions, they had been amused to discover, both 'wand-waving and silly incantations' were often needed before, during, and after the brewing. In this instance, there would be both - and a great deal of preparation and research besides - and most of it would have to be done with their partners.
Because Animaloqui would rely on the magical signatures of the brewers, the ingredients used in Animāre would not be the same for each student in the class, and because they would be combining their potions with their partner's, the partner's signature would need to be considered as well, to ensure compatibility.
There was also a charm that would show a magical signature, though they hadn't learned it yet.
Snape informed them with a malicious sort of satisfaction that it was on the syllabus for NEWT Charms, and they would be repeating the assignment once they had learned it, with the same partners, for comparison.
In the meantime, they would have to use other methods.
Because the students had not taken identical electives, they would need to use an assortment of things they had learned in Potions and in other classes - primarily Divination, Arithmancy, and Charms - to calculate their own ingredients, and they would need to get information from their partners to ensure compatibility.
The class worked silently for the rest of the period, listing charms and arithmantic equations, figuring out astrological signs and signifiers, and anything else that could be of use.
The man is diabolical, really, Harry thought while he worked. The assignment and the designated pairs would be the perfect cover for the time Harry and Malfoy would have to spend together preparing for and adapting to the bonding, as well as the information they would inevitably learn in the process. Harry wasn't sure how long they would be able to keep the bonding or the adoptions a secret, or even if they would want to, but he assumed they would, at least for a while.
Given the benefits if Harry agreed, it was a great cover, but because there was only a limited amount time before the holiday break, they couldn't postpone it a week simply because Harry hadn't yet decided. Besides, if Harry were to say no, Snape would probably also think the misery of working so closely with the other boy was deserved.
At the end of the class Harry packed his things quickly, eager to leave, but he was stopped by the quiet voice of the boy next to him.
"My birthday's on the thirteenth of this month. What else do you need to know?"
When Harry looked over to reply, everything and everyone faded out of his vision, and he couldn't see anything but Malfoy with a ribbon around his neck that was nearly glowing in the dim lighting of the Potions classroom. He blinked in shock, shook his head to clear it, and the world righted itself. The other boy's look of carefully distant inquiry wavered slightly, then hardened into the familiar Malfoy mask when Harry picked up his things and left without a word in response.
As he headed toward the stairs, a strong and determined hand grabbed his arm from behind, forcing him out of the throng of students and into a nearby empty classroom. The door shut with an ominous click, and his best friend rounded on him.
"Harry James Potter! What the hell was that?"
Harry stared at her blankly, too caught in his nightmare to identify Hermione's problem.
"All of the arguments we've had with Ron this year about maturity and respect and House Unity! You agreed with me! How can you berate Ron for his behaviour toward Slytherins in general, Malfoy in particular, and then act like that?!"
Harry winced, only partially because of her shrill tone. When they received their Hogwarts letters and discovered that Draco Malfoy had been named Head Boy, Hermione and Harry had begun to campaign for a cease-fire between the two most volatile Houses at Hogwarts.
Voldemort lost a powerful ally when Lucius Malfoy had been arrested, and the Death Eater attacks were not nearly as well organized or effective. The Order had been nearly as stymied as they had been grateful for Voldemort's refusal to even attempt to free him from Azkaban until last spring. An additional and equally unexpected benefit had been that with his father in jail and the Death Eaters having less success and influence under the new minister, Draco had been less vocal and less antagonistic than in previous years. It was part of why he'd been chosen as Head Boy and how Harry and Hermione had managed to convince Ron and many of the other Gryffindors to stop baiting Slytherins and, more importantly, to restrain themselves when baited. It was intended as an appeal to neutral Slytherins, and it had been at least somewhat successful - at least until Harry publicly snubbed their leader.
"You were - That was just - mean! He was trying to be nice!"
Oh, Bloody Hell.
His brain finally caught up, and he realized how much worse the situation was than Hermione knew. Draco Malfoy, a vectigal, had just made a friendly overture to his chosen dominus which had been deliberately and publically ignored. Harry's mind scrambled, trying to calculate the repercussions of his carelessness while Hermione continued her rant, "It's reciprocal magic, Harry! The brewers need to work together for the potion to work. You can't just take my notes and make do this time. You need to talk to him - and an apology wouldn't hurt!
When Harry didn't respond, she threw her hands in the air. "He's growing up! How long will it take you?" With that, she stormed off to the door.
Once there, she stopped abruptly and, without turning to face him, traced the wood grain on the door.
"And Harry?" Her voice was very quiet, but it resonated in the silence that had fallen once she stopped shouting. "Whatever it is that's bothering you lately?" He made a non-committal noise, which she seemed to interpret as an invitation to continue. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"
With his eyes closed, he didn't know if she turned and saw his small nod, but she didn't say another word. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
Transfiguration was not a great success, even with the use of the notes Hermione had lent him, and when Harry returned them to her, she thanked him in a chilly tone that made it clear he had not yet been forgiven. Fortunately, Ron was able to act as a buffer during the double period class. He'd noticed the tension, of course, but for once he didn't press when both Hermione and Harry refused to explain.
Dinner, on the other hand, was made easier by the absence of Draco, at least until Harry learned why he was missing: he'd been sent to the hospital wing after collapsing rather dramatically in the middle of class. Parvati and Lavender were able to contribute that, according to the gossip mill, he hadn't been well in Charms earlier that afternoon, either.
Harry grew silent, feeling guiltier with every word spoken. It was horrible, knowing that all the physical pain, the inconstant magic, the emotional uncertainty, it all stemmed from Draco's hope that Harry could help save him and his fear that Harry would refuse to do it.
Snape was avoiding looking at the Gryffindor table, and Harry wondered how much of that was because the Head of Slytherin didn't want his glares to negatively influence Harry's decision.
He knew he was Draco's best option, and it was terrifying. His inability to make a decision about the bonding, his thoughtless remarks earlier - it had only been four days, and he'd already landed the other boy in the hospital wing. They'd be tied together for life, which in Harry's case that was not guaranteed to be very long; what kind of dominus would he be?
Speculation of a different sort continued throughout the meal as the Gryffindors suggested increasingly preposterous reasons for Malfoy's illness. Harry had just decided that he was finished - both eating and listening to the theories about Malfoy - when Professor McGonagall stopped by their table on her way out of the Great Hall and asked him to follow her.
He stood, pretending not to notice the curious looks of his friends, but his enthusiasm for leaving the table dampened considerably just outside the entrance.
Draco Malfoy stopped short a few steps from the bottom of the staircase and reached for the railing in a movement that was too controlled to call 'clutching', but only just.
"Are you alright, Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in a tone that was brisk but not unkind.
"Yes, thank you," he replied politely. He must have seen suspicion in her gaze because he added, "Madam Pomfrey said I'll be fine once I've eaten and sent me to join the others."
She nodded and waved Harry forward. "Come along, Potter."
Harry knew he couldn't leave Malfoy to wonder all night, not after the afternoon he'd suffered, but he wasn't ready to commit to anything yet, either. The most he could do was make sure Malfoy knew where things stood. Assuming Malfoy knew about Harry's familial situation and options - he was sure Snape would have told him if he hadn't known already - the Gryffindor gave Malfoy a pointed look and started up the stairs.
"Do you know if Remus has arrived yet?" he asked at a volume he knew would carry to the other boy, hoping that would be enough.
Harry grimaced when he felt the hated tug on his navel and stumbled into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.
The Headmaster had received word that unexpected visitors from the Ministry were on their way to Hogwarts and decided that, in order to ensure sufficient privacy and security for as long as necessary, Harry would join Remus at Grimmauld Place.
He put the chipped tea cup Dumbledore had given him as a portkey on the kitchen table and headed upstairs.
In the two and a half years since he'd first seen the house, it had undergone an astounding transformation. First and foremost, Kreacher was gone, relegated to the kitchens at Hogwarts with specific instructions to neither harm anyone nor speak unless Harry or Dumbledore were present, and Dobby had been thrilled to watch him.
The house still wasn't perfect, but extensive cleaning and redecorating made it look like a home, if not his home. Not that he'd ever had a proper one, but he knew what he wanted, and there were too many accommodations for the Order for it to feel entirely right. Mrs. Black was still there as well, but the curtain covering her had been given the twins' best permanent sticking charm. It wasn't quite the strength of the one used to hold the portrait to the wall, and Molly could break it if she really wanted, but she decidedly didn't.
He found Remus exactly where he'd expected: upstairs in the library.
Remus was the only one in residence at the moment, but others could drop by, so once the pleasantries were out of the way, privacy wards were set, and they settled comfortably on the couch. Remus looked at him expectantly, and Harry mentally sorted through the events of the last few days, the parts he wanted to tell, the parts he didn't. "I don't know where to start," he admitted finally.
"The beginning is usually a good place."
Harry tried to smile at Remus's teasing tone but shrugged, uncertain where exactly that was. Remus seemed to understand and said, "Jump in the middle, then, and we'll muddle through the best we can."
"It's about the Ministry's mentoring spell."
Next to him on the couch, Remus stilled for a moment before asking, "You're interested in an Apprenticeship?"
Harry shook his head, then shrugged again. "I just found out about the adoption part of the spell; it came up in a discussion about something else." There was a small frayed spot on the arm of the sofa, and, not wanting to see Remus's expression, Harry picked at it. "I just wondered... if... you know..."
One of Remus's best qualities was that he didn't just watch while you floundered.
"Have I ever considered the possibility of adopting you?" Harry didn't even have time to nod before Remus answered, "Yes. Immediately after Sirius died, of course, and many times both before and since."
"Then why didn't...?"
"The Wizarding world won't let werewolves teach their children; it certainly doesn't want us to raise them." Harry heard the bitterness that Remus was usually careful to keep hidden. "Any attempt to do so by concealing the condition is punishable by a long stay in Azkaban. Knowing what I know now about your life with the Dursleys..." He paused and eventually shook his head.
"Even without the blood protections from your mother, the Dursleys did seem the best option available at the time. Few Wizarding households would have been able to protect you from the madness of being 'The Boy Who Lived.'" Harry made a face, uncertain which disgusted him more, the Dursleys or the stupid title.
"I wish Dumbledore had chosen another path," Remus continued. "At the time though... I wanted to take you, of course, but there was no way I could have done so without revealing my lycanthropy. The chances of a single man being granted custody of any child were slim enough, a werewolf doing so was unheard of, but if the child was Harry Potter? It would have been impossible. Especially with so many fine, upstanding, Wizarding families ready to take you in. Knowing the emphasis the Old Families place on blood, it won't surprise you that blood relationships are always preserved when possible, and in your case, it was the only thing preventing a lengthy court assessment. The petitions for custody were overwhelming; without a living relative, it would have been necessary to entertain them. Even the Malfoys intended to offer for you."
Harry started.
"Indeed." Remus assumed an affected air. "The Potters took in Narcissa's cousin, you know, and it was only fair that they return the favour. You'd have a playmate in young Draco, and Lucius could train you to manage your inheritance." He returned to his normal voice. "Lucius was a prominent Ministry official, cleared of any culpability for his actions in support of Voldemort, and likely to be supportive of keeping you in the public eye; they would have pushed that through the Wizengamot before you could say 'Quidditch'. It was the end of a long, difficult war, and the Wizengamot was trying to piece Wizarding society together again. They would have supported the old pureblood family.
"Last year, after Sirius, the only thing you were enthusiastic about was leaving the Dursleys and being an adult. I assumed that you weren't interested. Your best friends are children of some of the oldest pure-blood families and the best-read witch at Hogwarts; it never occurred to me that you wouldn't know it was possible."
"Snape said something like that, that I was lacking in knowledge of Wizarding Culture." Harry said quietly.
"It's understandable, given your history," Remus reassured him. "We all tend to forget, I think, that you returned to a repressively Muggle household each summer. Severus, particularly, would find it difficult to comprehend, given his own background. He..." Remus paused, searching for the right words or deciding how much to say.
Snape never spoke about his past, and Remus was rarely willing to gossip on any subject, so Harry was tempted to see how much he could learn, but, Gryffindor or not, he didn't think he'd have the courage to broach the topic again. Before Remus could continue, he interrupted, "Would you still want to? I mean, I know I'm legally an adult, but I'm only seventeen, so I can choose to revert my status, so if you were willing - "
Harry felt Remus move closer to him on the couch, but he didn't look up until fingers under his chin stopped the babble and lifted his face. The older man didn't speak until Harry met his gaze, and once he did, Harry didn't need to hear Remus's response.
"Of course I want to and am willing - more than anything, Harry."
Too happy to worry about what would happen when he confessed about the Fidelitās Dominō ritual, Harry grinned, trying very hard to keep from launching himself into Remus's arms.
His new father-to-be must have sensed his dilemma or maybe he was suffering from the same bubbling joy because he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. That in itself felt strange but in a nice way: Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and occasionally Ginny were the only ones who hugged him, really, and hugging Remus was very different.
They talked for a little while longer, but Harry found it hard to focus with the whirlwind of emotion inside him - joy, obviously, guilt that he hadn't yet explained about Fidelitās Dominō, fear that once he did everything would fall apart, fear of what he would have to do if it didn't.
He knew he would have to explain, and soon, but he really didn't want to tarnish the moment.
Before too long, though, his sleepless nights caught up with him, and after his third yawn, Remus suggested that it was time for bed. Harry stiffened involuntarily, and Remus noticed.
"Is there something else, Harry?" He gave Harry a searching look. "Are you certain this is what you want?"
"It really is," Harry said earnestly, but Remus's expression was still concerned. "It came up- I found out about it because of something else, and I'll tell you about it, but if I'd found out about it, you know, randomly, and it was possible, I'd have asked you anyway. I think you'd be a really great dad."
He drew a deep breath and opened his mouth to tell Remus everything, but before any sound came out, he closed it again. When he did finally speak what came out was, "Can tonight be just about this? I'll explain everything else tomorrow, I promise. I don't have classes in the morning, and the headmaster said I could stay until lunch. Please?"
Remus still looked worried, but he eventually nodded. "Of course."
Snape missed dinner on Thursday, being forced to supervise the cleanup of a rather spectacular potions accident. The concoction that covered the walls of his classroom was dangerously reactive, highly toxic, and very, very foul-smelling. Given the volatile nature of the ingredients, Snape was required to be present to ensure that no magic was used: cleaning spells in combination with that mess would have disastrous consequences. In the few moments he had after the cleaning was finished, he detoured past the kitchens before arriving at the parlour-style room in which they were holding CATS: Theory of the Dark Arts.
Draco was the first of the students to enter, scanning the room quickly. Seeing only his godfather, his shoulders dropped dejectedly before he remembered himself and straightened. He turned to Severus, who shook his head before the boy had time to hope.
"He wasn't at dinner?"
"No." His godson's reply was petulant, and reminiscent of the child he had been; under other circumstances it would have been amusing. "The Headmaster was there, but if he was trying to communicate anything I didn't understand. He had the same expression he always has, and I don't speak twinkle."
The door opened then, and though they both took care to hide it, they were disappointed that the student entering was not Potter, as it meant any further discussion would have to wait until after class.
The Gryffindor in question did eventually arrive, but there was no indication what his decision was or even if he had made one.
Malfoy and Potter sat in their usual places, as far apart as they could be without being directly opposite and having to face each other for the duration of the class. There wasn't much chance to hide in CATS:DA since the class consisted of only Snape and four students.
Harry Potter had taken the course much to the consternation of Molly Weasley, who gave both Harry and Snape several lectures on the matter when she saw the text list. Severus, too, had been surprised; he hadn't expected the Golden Boy to be willing to challenge the prejudices of his House and the Wizarding World, even if he would be likely to need the knowledge to defeat Voldemort. Harry's application to the course had even expressed a desire to know the enemy and, given his own Dark talent, more about himself.
Descended from two respected Pureblood lines, Morag McDougall, Ravenclaw, was the enigma. Her father was not too distantly related to Minerva McGonagall, while her mother's family had been welcomed at Grimmauld Place by Walburga Black. The girl's own loyalties were uncertain - one of the reasons she'd been accepted. Her application to the course and her participation in it were typical of her House, but was her need to impress merely a thirst for knowledge or was she hoping to eventually join the Death Eaters? After three months, Snape was still undecided.
Theodore Nott had been offered a place in the course for reasons that were similar to his Ravenclaw counterpart. In addition to placing among the highest of his year academically, Theodore had the sense to stay out of the politics of Slytherin House as much as possible. He wasn't part of any particular group nor did he have any particular enemies. Neither the arrest of Nott Senior - an older Death Eater, valued more for his dedication than competence, captured at the Ministry a year and a half ago - nor his liberation this spring had any noticeable effect on the boy, his status amongst his classmates, or whatever allegiances he might have. His particular interests seemed to lean toward areas of jurisprudence, suggesting to Snape that he intended to weather the war from a position in the Ministry.
It would doubtless surprise many, however, that Draco Malfoy had not chosen to take the course in preparation for a career as a Death Eater, that he was not, in fact, even taking the course voluntarily. He had applied as part of the compromise he had negotiated with his mother when it was time to choose his seventh year schedule. He'd had no real reason to refuse her demand, since it would be an easy grade - not because it was being taught by his godfather, but because he had prior, practical experience in the subject; and he had every reason to acquiesce since agreeing to take it in addition to his Potions apprenticeship had given him necessary leverage.
Severus had been pleased, since it provided him with an opportunity to point out how illogical, petty, and narrow-minded many of the Dark Lord's tenets were, as well as the infeasibility of his schemes to implement them.
As Draco's godfather and Head of House, Severus had tried to influence him, to provide an alternative to his father's blind arrogance and delusions of supremacy. Draco was volatile and hard-headed, but he had a good brain when he chose to use it; unfortunately, given Snape's current public stance as the Headmaster's pet Death Eater, there had been limits - and there still were to a certain extent - to how much he could say, even without considering the Dark Lord or, in earlier years, the threat of his return. Lucius had painted Dumbledore as the enemy, more so than the Boy Who Lived, at least through Draco's childhood, since Lucius had intended the boys to be friends once they began at Hogwarts. It was a delicate balance, trying to encourage the boy to see other perspectives without pushing him too far.
It had been even more so this term: despite showing increased maturity and restraint since the departure of that Umbridge woman and his deft handling of his duties as Head Boy in spite of the resentment of a number of his classmates, there was still some cause for concern. Draco had taken to spending long periods of time alone, usually in the library or his room, occasionally in the potions lab. It was not typical behaviour - his unlikely friendship with Crabbe and Goyle had been largely based on his need for an audience. Not knowing the reason for the change, it was especially worrisome.
Clearly, at least some progress had been made, regardless. Draco had been willing to discuss his doubts about his expected future, however obliquely, and he had come to Severus with his suspicions about the bonding.
Regardless of whether he did so believing Bella's insinuations that Snape was still Dumbledore's spy or if he was terrified that they were false, it was a courageous and doubtless difficult choice to make, and Severus was both proud and thankful that he had, though it would make the betrayal even greater when the boy discovered that Snape was the highest-ranked spy the Order had amongst the Death Eaters.
He had toyed with the idea of telling Draco before this, and probably should have, but if anything were to go wrong, Snape would have a chance - small, but a chance nonetheless - to excuse his actions, but not if the Dark Lord possessed the irrefutable proof of a confession. At this point, the risk was hardly worth it, as Draco would have to be told next week regardless, assuming they would be performing the bonding ritual.
The Slytherin in him was appalled, but Severus was actually lamenting the disappearance of the charge-ahead Gryffindor hero.
Draco coughed slightly, and Snape realized with a start that it was well-passed time for class to begin. He pushed his personal thoughts aside to lay the foundation for a discussion on necromancy.
He asked Harry to remain after class.
Unable to sit still while the students gathered their things and unwilling to give into the temptation to pace, he walked slowly to the window and stared towards the Quidditch pitch, though it was too dark to see anything.
"Is Malfoy ok?"
Considering how callously out of character the Gryffindor had been behaving, his seemingly sincere concern now was grating, but Snape held his temper and replied, "He is coherent and mobile, which rates an 'Acceptable' on our current standard."
He watched via the reflection in the window as Potter took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it and looking at the floor.
When he repeated the pattern twice more, Severus decided he couldn't wait for the boy to remember how to say 'no.'
Twenty years ago, he had promised himself that he would never again beg for anything from anyone. For twenty years, he had kept his word, even in the face of Dumbledore's righteous pity or the Dark Lord's most creative torture, even as he broke every other vow he had ever made.
But now, here, he would be forsworn in this, too.
Rather than watch the reflection of his latest failure, he closed his eyes briefly before he spoke.
"Please, Harry." The boy's head snapped up, and Snape was relieved to discover that, unlike pride, grim amusement was an emotion that was not lost to him. "I know-"
"I'll do it," Potter interrupted breathlessly. "Remus said yes, and I chose Eustacia Sigismund in Charms this afternoon. I'm sorry. I told the Headmaster after lunch, but I guess he didn't have a chance to tell you. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Clearly, he would have to have words with Albus and not all of Potter's rambling made sense, but at this precise moment, Snape was too relieved to speak or to care.
"We'll discuss the details tomorrow afternoon," Severus managed when the boy's babbling drifted to an end. Thankfully recognizing the comment for the dismissal it was, Harry nodded, picked up his bag, and left the room.
On his way out, Harry noticed Malfoy standing in the hall, not even pretending that he was doing anything but waiting for them to finish.
"Malfoy," he said neutrally. He continued down the hall and up the stairs without looking back to see the blond close his eyes as he collapsed against the wall or the Potions master watch them both with a concerned scowl.
I have received word that you are unwell. This concerns me grievously after so much
has been done to ensure your health and future. If the strain of separation from
those who are most concerned with your welfare is too great, inform me at once,
and I will arrange for you to return immediately.
M
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