Choosing Family: Changing Perspectives

[sapphirequill]

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With apologies to everyone who was told it wouldn't be very long, here's the next installment. It took much longer than I thought it would - I finished writing on Easter weekend (after deciding to drastically truncate the chapter), and it's been in revision ever since.

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.

I'm taking some small liberties with the organization of the Ministry of Magic in this chapter, particularly with respect to Arthur Weasley's position there. To wit - the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, while located in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and nominally affiliated with them, is a subdivision of the Department of Muggle Relations.

Additional notes are available before the prologue.

Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.

Originally posted 18 May '07

Changing Perspectives

All things considered, Remus mused, it was an appropriate beginning, if not an auspicious one.

In the forty or so hours since he'd agreed to adopt Harry Potter, he had been asked to research and participate in an obscure and archaic ritual, had made plans to accommodate the new and likely resentful additions to the household, and had been called to the bedside of his unconscious ward.

It was something he'd have to tease James about in the - hopefully distant - future.

He watched the boy lying so still in the bed, so different from the last time they'd seen each other, when Harry had been nearly vibrating with tension. When Remus had arrived at Hogwarts early that morning, he'd met with the Headmaster, intending to discuss the specific details of the Fidelitās Dominō ritual, but before they had more than exchanged pleasantries, Ron Weasley had arrived with the news that Harry had been taken to the infirmary after an accident in DADA.

Their class had been divided into teams for a scrimmage, and in the melee, Harry had been targeted by a number of spells simultaneously, knocking him off balance and into Draco Malfoy's remarkably strong Confunding Cloud shield. Unfortunately, given the combination of spells involved, any attempts, magical or otherwise, to revive him before the spells ran their course would risk dangerous psychological injury - specifically memory loss, confusion, or dementia.

Poppy had insisted Harry would be fine, but they wouldn't know the severity of Harry's situation for certain until he woke, so Remus sat in the hospital wing, waiting. He had a number of texts on hand that he should be reviewing before they met to make decisions about the ritual, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything but the young man beside him.

The resemblance between James and his son was remarkable, but never so much as when Harry's eyes were closed. Even then, of course, differences remained. The physical ones, like Lily's nose, were subtle and easy to overlook, but the habitual ones were obvious: Harry never quite managed a look of childish innocence; even when sleeping he was restless, ill at ease - the exact opposite of the Potter boy Remus had roomed with for seven years.

Knowing that Harry had not been able to find that peace, that he very likely hadn't since Godric's Hollow, filled Moony with unfamiliarly strong rage and a barely controlled desire for vengeance - against Voldemort, obviously, but also toward those who should have cared for him when James and Lily couldn't.

Since Sirius's death, Harry had confessed a great deal about the circumstances in which he'd grown up, and while Remus was certain that he'd left out the worst of it, it had been clear that the boy hadn't had much of a childhood or rearing, at least not in their intended definitions. Harry's Muggle relatives were appalling examples of humanity, and Moony would dearly love the opportunity to repay them for their gross negligence and active emotional abuse. Remus was trying very hard to suppress the urge.

Dumbledore, too, was partially responsible, and that was a difficult admission, since he himself owed the older wizard so much. Because of Dumbledore, he had been given the opportunity to study here, at Hogwarts; he'd been given the chance to teach, however briefly; he'd been welcomed as a member of the Order. But the gratitude and obligation he owed the older man was tainted now with resentment that he and others, people Remus had trusted, hadn't been as observant or as vigilant as they should have been, and the son of his alpha, the youngest member of his chosen pack had been harmed as a result.

Mostly, though, he blamed himself. He should have been able to prevent it.

He was at fault in so many ways - he hadn't done more, had accepted that he couldn't do more, had allowed Dumbledore to send him away without ascertaining Harry's well-being for himself. Regardless of risk or politics, he should have managed at least that much. He'd failed his friends, his pack - James and Lily, obviously, but the others as well. Harry should have had an alternative to the Dursleys that was both legal and viable. With Sirius in Azkaban and Peter believed to be dead, it was his responsibility as the last Marauder.

Because of Harry, Remus found himself resenting his condition with an intensity that was rare for him. He'd had years to accept the wolf that was part of him as well as the restrictions that were placed on him because of it, and he generally found it easier to work within those limitations than to fight that which he alone could not change.

It was another matter entirely when the injured party was a packmate.

Remus had been horrified to learn that Voldemort planned to use Fidelitās Dominō. He knew of the ritual, of course - given his love of reading, libraries were havens, and he'd taken full advantage of their resources.

Fortunately, Harry, despite being slight, was certainly not weak, physically or emotionally. In addition to Quidditch and the DA, Harry had added training and duelling to his schedule this year, and all of it contributed to a strength which was belied by his stature. As for emotional strength, one would be hard pressed to find another child - or adult for that matter - who could survive what Harry had and still maintain such a generous and honourable nature. When Harry had explained with only the slightest catch in his voice that the unifier Voldemort had used was Parseltongue, Remus's admiration for the boy had grown immeasurably, while his fear had - impossibly - doubled.

As frightening as Harry's life had seemed to an honorary uncle, it was terrifying from the perspective of a father, and surprisingly, shockingly, after nearly thirty-seven years, that's what he would be. A father, with a family of his own - it was one of his dearest dreams, the one he had long ago accepted would never come true, and now, in only a few days, he'd have the chance. It was terrifying.

He wondered briefly if James had felt less fear, even in the days before he knew his family was a direct target, but he doubted it.

After they walked up the stairs in a nearly companionable silence, Harry stopped Remus in the hall outside his room and asked, hesitantly, "Would my parents mind, do you think?"

Oh, you dear boy, Remus thought before searching for an answer that would address the boy's concern without sounding completely self-serving.

His eventual response was no less true for being clichéd. "More than anything, Harry, your parents and Sirius wanted you to be safe and happy."

He brushed Harry's hair back from his forehead, revealing the other obvious physical difference between Harry and James.

So much responsibility at such a young age.

Fortunately, experience had given Remus confidence in the strength and courage of the young man in front of him, confidence that James wouldn't have had in the tiny infant Harry had once been - even if that infant would defeat the wizarding world's greatest threat at the age of fifteen months, he thought wryly. He left his hand resting on Harry's, feeling better for the contact, hoping Harry did as well.

"He'll be fine, you know."

Remus looked up to see Poppy Pomfrey standing by the door.

"I know," Remus said with a self-effacing smile, "but I can't seem to help myself."

She performed a quick set of diagnostic spells, some of which he knew from his own regular visits to the hospital wing after each transformation at Hogwarts, all of which he recognized from the scans she had performed not an hour earlier. Like the spells, her diagnosis did not change. "His readings have all returned to normal, and he's sleeping naturally. He should wake within the hour. He'll be groggy and a bit confused, at first, but that's to be expected. Other than that, a nutritious lunch, a dose of Severus's restorative draught, and he'll be right as rain."

"Thank you, Poppy."

She smiled indulgently, clearly recognizing that, regardless of how many times she uttered them, her words wouldn't dispel his worry entirely, and she turned back to her office. "I'll order enough lunch for you as well, shall I, since you'll be staying."

Recognizing that her remark was not a question, Remus nonetheless attempted to decline her offer, but he was soon speaking to no one but himself and the unconscious boy. He shook his head, amused. Poppy tried to feed him every time he was in the hospital wing and had for years.

When the door opened a few moments later, he turned to try to explain once again that he wasn't hungry but stopped when he noticed the new arrival was Severus, carrying a potion and equally surprised to see Remus.

When no greeting or comment, scathing or otherwise, was forthcoming, Remus offered a response to the unspoken question: "I was in with Albus when he was notified."

A noncommittal shrug was all the acknowledgement he received.

Remus knew that Severus would be aware that Harry had both approached Remus and agreed to the ritual, and he wondered how much bearing that had on the other man's restraint.

"Severus - "

Remus hadn't the slightest idea what he intended to say, and was, in fact, curious to find out, but before he had the chance, there was a small movement from the bed.

Severus put the vial down, turned, and left the room so quickly that Remus felt he might have imagined the visit entirely, if it hadn't been for the potion on the table. He watched Harry slowly returning to consciousness and then looked back at the door Severus had exited so hastily. The relationship between Severus and Harry had improved significantly in the past year, but not enough, he feared, to weather the strain of the difficult times to come.

"We still have to address living arrangements."

Harry stared at him blankly, and Remus elaborated, "Do you have preferences as to how rooms are assigned for your guests?"

"I have to bring Malfoy here? And Professor Snape? For the holidays?"

"I agree that Grimmauld Place is not ideal, but where else would you suggest?" Remus asked with more sarcasm in his voice than he would have liked. They'd been discussing various aspects of the situation for several hours, and it had been a difficult and emotionally charged discussion for both of them.

Harry made a face. "Can't we just stay at Hogwarts?

"Harry, I know how much Hogwarts means to you, and I agree that in many respects staying there would improve things immeasurably, but neither of us has any official ties to the castle."

Some effort was required, but his tone remained even. "You've read enough to know that the bond reads emotions more than actual thoughts, and that given the historical intent, there are certain symbolic actions that traditionally strengthen the bonded pair, particularly the position of the vectigal. It's best if the dominus brings the vectigal to his home, the family home if he is underage. It's indicative of trust and an acknowledgement of his right of place."

"I know." Harry's reply was both exasperated, which Remus felt was unfair, and guilty, which urged him to forgive the former.

"Since you haven't been able to access whatever Potter property remains or establish what is habitable, you certainly can't consider it home." Harry responded with a combined sigh and nod but didn't seem to have anything further to add, so Remus continued, keeping his tone mild. "You're not required to invite Severus as well, and I'm certain it will be difficult to persuade him, but it would be polite."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath while Remus waited silently. When Harry finally spoke, his voice was calmer, quieter. "Besides, Malfoy... He ought to have someone he likes."

Though Harry left it at that, Remus knew he was remembering his own years with the Dursleys.

"Moony?"

Remus was pulled from his thoughts by the sleepy voice, and his response was filled with relief and pleasure. "Yes, Harry, it's me."

"That's nice." Not yet fully awake, his tone was unguarded, and his lazy contentment made Remus smile as he asked, "What is?"

Harry struggled to open his eyes. "You're here. Usually when I wake up in ..." his voice drifted off, and there was a pause as his forehead creased in concentration. "The hospital... wing? ...Is that right?"

"Yes, Harry, you're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts."

His face settled into a satisfied smile. "Thought so."

Remus's own smile deepened. Several of the many potions Poppy had used to treat Harry contained soporific ingredients, and she had warned Remus that a certain amount of stupor was to be expected.

"Usually when I wake up the only grownup here is Madam Pomfrey. Or Snape, with potions. Or the Headmaster, if it's 'cause of Voldemort or a Death Eater attack." He paused again, the furrow between his brows returning. "It wasn't, was it?"

He was trying to sit up and was getting frustrated when his limbs refused to respond as quickly as he expected.

"It's ok, Harry." Remus helped him lie back. "There was no attack; everyone else is fine."

The boy relaxed against the pillows, relieved. "Good." His expression changed to one of puzzlement. "What happened?"

"Just a small accident this morning in DADA."

"I can't remember." While not quite panicking, he was clearly distressed, but before Remus could explain, a third voice interjected, "That's perfectly normal, dear."

Harry and Remus turned to Madam Pomfrey, who was entering the room with two trays floating behind her. She set them on the table next to the potion Severus had left which she picked up and handed to Harry with the explanation that drinking it would help clear his head.

"Can you remember our names and where we are?"

Tentatively, as though any knowledge he had was suspect, he replied, "Madam Pomfrey, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter, and we're in the Hogwarts hospital wing."

"Good." She shared an amused glance with Remus as she asked the next question. "What was the last Quidditch match you attended?"

Clearly relieved to remember something, Harry cautiously answered that and several other questions about his routine while the mediwitch performed another series of diagnostic spells. When she seemed to be satisfied with the information she was getting, and Harry was growing more assured as each answer proved correct, Remus felt the last of the fear and worry release him, and he fell back in his chair with relief.

Harry's frustration returned when he discovered that he still could not remember that morning's class, but Poppy assured him that some temporary memory loss was not unexpected and that the memories would likely return to him in time.

The only shadow that remained was that the questions Poppy had asked largely pertained to Harry's typical schedule and had little to do with the specifics of each day, leaving Remus uncertain that Harry remembered the unusual events of this week.

Because the hospital wing was equipped with powerful and complicated monitoring spells - necessary for Poppy to monitor the condition of her patients - a strong ward or imperturbable would not be possible without making it very clear that something had been cast, which would call Poppy to the room immediately and violate the attempt to preserve privacy. Because Harry was the only patient in the hospital wing at the moment, however, the risk would be minimal as long as the door was closed, so when Poppy left them alone with instructions to drink the potion and eat before leaving, Remus decided it was worth the risk.

"When was the last time you saw me?"

"Yesterday, before lunch." Harry met his gaze evenly and replied with quiet confidence, leaving Remus with no doubt he remembered.

He nodded, silently acknowledging that. "How did it go, yesterday afternoon?"

Harry sat forward and rested his arms on his knees. "The Headmaster wasn't at lunch, so I didn't have a chance to talk to him until later. But there was a potions accident in last class, and-"

Knowing how meticulous the potions master was, particularly in the lab, Remus realized what must have happened with perfect clarity. "Severus didn't bother to eat in the Great Hall."

Harry grimaced slightly in wordless affirmation before recapping the events of the previous evening. It was obvious that Harry was paraphrasing and leaving out certain details.

Remus knew Severus far too well to believe that he had endured the uncertainty of the past week and the heightened suspense of the day, culminating in a class with both boys, only to stand meekly waiting for Harry to announce his decision. He also knew that Harry and Severus had a fair bit of practice at acknowledging and forgiving verbal ambushes. Since Harry seemed uncomfortable as he danced around the details rather than angry or bitter, Remus assumed that there was no lingering resentment on his part, though from Severus's hasty departure, he couldn't rule out an imminent confrontation entirely.

Before he could warn Harry to expect it, if he wasn't already, Madam Pomfrey entered to admonish them for not eating and to remind them that it was nearly time for afternoon classes to begin.

He didn't know exactly what prompted him to arrive early for class on Friday afternoon. Yes, it was CATS: Healing, and yes, it was held in the hospital wing, and yes, that's where Potter was recovering, but really, all that simply made things worse - because there was no way anyone would let him enter that room.

Even if I were permitted access, I'd have to refuse, since that ... creature has spies everywhere, and both he - it and its Lord would be watching for any out of character behaviour from me, especially where Potter is concerned.

And he had proof they were watching.

The letter he'd received at breakfast may have sounded concerned, but it hadn't been intended to put him at ease. It had been a very obvious warning that someone - and Draco had his suspicions as to who - had noticed his fluctuating magic levels, possibly his fatigue, and had reported it.

The ambiguous M could be interpreted as standing for 'Mother' if the letter was intercepted or if Draco were asked, but he knew the truth. Regardless of the penmanship and discrete signature that had been used to disguise it, he knew it was from his father.

It was typical of Lucius's pride, that even in hiding he would sign some version of his name. He'd never done anything else. Even when he wasn't a fugitive, when he'd been Draco's father - Draco refused to honour him with that title any longer - he'd always signed his infrequent letters 'Lucius Malfoy', as though without the full name Draco would forget who the man was and the power he held.

His mother always signed her letters "Mum" if she knew her husband would not intercept the post; she saved 'Mother' for those times when Lucius might see since he disapproved of diminutives. As it was, he thought 'Mother' was excessively familiar and indulgent but conceded that it would be tolerated until Draco came of age. It was his idea of a compromise.

There had been few instances of rebellion by Narcissa Malfoy against her husband, but those that existed were usually small and almost exclusively on behalf of her son.

Lucius had very strict beliefs about family, the roles of each member within it, and the duty owed to him as the head of the household, and he had few qualms about the methods he used to ensure that his expectations were met. Nothing so crass as a beating, but not all scars are visible.

For a few years after the fall of the Dark Lord, things were nearly idyllic. Lucius had been away most of the time, rebuilding his reputation within the Ministry and Narcissa could join Draco in the nursery for games and stories. Uncle Severus had been there, too, letting Draco watch as he worked, playing with him sometimes, letting him help with potions as he grew older, helping him learn all the things he was expected to know as the Malfoy heir...

It had all come to an end one day not long after his eighth birthday. He'd hurried downstairs, hoping to be able to say good night to his godfather before he left, when he'd heard Lucius and Severus speaking in his father's study.

Hidden in the hallway, he'd listened in stunned silence as his father thanked Severus for his dedication to his duty as godfather to the Malfoy heir. Lucius had admitted that he had permitted Narcissa's choice despite his own doubts but allowed that Severus had served admirably. Then, to Draco's horror, he had declared that it was time to get a proper tutor, and asked that Severus refrain from visiting the Manor unless specifically invited.

While Lucius had rationalized his request by suggesting that Draco - "the boy" - would have difficulty with multiple authority figures, having to obey conflicting taskmasters, Draco had waited in vain for Severus to refuse, for a declaration that Draco was more important than to him than a mere student. It had hurt, at the time, that his godfather - whom he'd pretended so often was his father by blood - had simply left him.

Now, of course, he understood; he'd realized that refusing would have enabled Lucius to forcibly keep Severus away and that he'd done the only thing he could if he wanted to maintain any contact with them at all.

Already wary of Snape, a school friend of Narcissa's and a rival for the coveted honour of the Dark Lord, Lucius had been visibly thrilled to deprive his wife and son of their friend and would relish the opportunity to do so permanently.

Capitulating kept Lucius secure in his belief that he had control and would hopefully keep him from demanding that Draco go to Durmstrang. Knowing that, Draco would not have traded his future for the momentary satisfaction of an argument. The feelings of a little boy were hardly significant, were even trivial. As much as it had hurt at the time that Uncle Severus didn't fight to stay, he was glad he'd witnessed the conversation since he hadn't been given any other explanation for his godfather's sudden disappearance.

Draco had been moved out of the nursery and into the suite of rooms that he currently- that he had occupied, and a tutor was brought to the Manor, a strict and dour man who ensured that Draco had little time that wasn't structured and occupied by practical tasks. He saw his mother infrequently and usually only at meals or otherwise in the company of Lucius.

His father had been home much more regularly and for longer periods of time, which was a mixed blessing. He was inconsistent, scheduling times that he would spend with Draco without specifying whether that time would be spent training or having fun. Draco wouldn't know until his arrival, when Lucius would have in hand either book or broom.

His father had taught him how to fly and had taken him on interesting outings, and those were some of his most treasured memories. Though fascinating in their own way, his lessons in advanced and often Dark spellcasting had not been nearly as enjoyable. Lucius was a demanding teacher, and though Draco tried very hard to meet his standards, he never fully managed to do so. Nothing was accomplished with the speed or finesse that Lucius expected.

Things deteriorated further once Draco began his studies at Hogwarts. Lucius was less patient with infractions, and it did not bode well when Draco's very first task, befriending Harry Potter, was a dismal failure. Dependent upon the reports of Draco's professors, and without daily contact to ensure he worked to the best of his effort and ability, Lucius was unconvinced that he was doing so and demanded demonstrations of his knowledge and skill during the holidays and, occasionally, during Hogsmeade visits.

Since the Dark Lord's return, Lucius was determined to regain his status as the Dark Lord's right hand at any cost, and he intended to make whatever use of Draco he could to achieve that end.

Until recently, that had seemed to require that Draco be trained as a second potions master; his Aunt Bellatix was vehement in her accusations that Severus was the traitor, and while the Dark Lord was aware that she was a prime candidate for the Janus Thickey Ward, he wasn't unwilling to take additional precautions. A perfect example of the difference between the leadership of the Dark and Light factions.

There were problems in the wizarding world, problems that neither Dumbledore nor the Ministry was willing to acknowledge, let alone address and solve. It was the primary reason the Dark Lord had been able to gather such a large, devoted following. His solutions and his methods of obtaining them were impractical at best, but very few people discovered that before they were branded. Unfortunately, the fear and condemnation of the Ministry and the Wizarding public made it impossible for Death Eaters to repent without repercussions. Once any useful knowledge was culled, their safety was hardly a concern. A problem, since the Dark Lord killed traitors.

What Draco really wanted was to remain neutral, but he wasn't naive enough to believe that was a possibility. He never had been.

His mother hadn't been enthusiastic about his disinterest - knowing he was considering going against both the Dark Lord and her husband, he hadn't expected her to be - but she'd at least seemed sympathetic and willing to compromise. She'd allowed him to negotiate the inclusion of CATS: Healing into his schedule, provided he also registered for the subjects Lucius expected him to take. It left him with a heavy course load but enabled him to balance his own desire to pursue Healing with that of the Dark Lord for a second Potions Master.

From those conversations and others he suspected that his mother did not share her husband's enthusiasm for the Dark Lord, which was why her behaviour on Saturday was so unexpected. He knew she was being watched - she always was - but her participation was far more hurtful than his father's cold interpretation of familial duty. He'd expected some sort of warning from her; she'd always managed it in the past.

It made him wonder why Lucius had bothered to send this morning's message himself, if his mother- if Narcissa was a willing participant in the scheme. It would be far less suspicious for it to have been sent directly from her. Then again, it would have been far less effective. If the message had arrived even a day earlier, the content of the letter would have been of some concern, if not absolutely terrifying.

Last night, however, everything had changed.

Last night, Potter had agreed to the bonding.

Draco hadn't been able to talk with his godfather after CATS: DA; the older man had barely taken the time to confirm that Potter had in fact agreed before he had stalked determinedly out of the dungeons, but that alone had been enough for Draco to enjoy the best night's sleep he'd had in ages.

The fear and anticipation of the last few months, the dread of the last few weeks, coupled with class work (NEWTS were called 'Nastily Exhausting' for a reason) and other projects - it had been incredibly stressful. This week had been by far the most uncomfortable physically, magically, and emotionally, as his body adjusted to the demands of the bond and suffered its displeasure at the secrecy. The soreness in his back, shoulders, and joints and the feeling of a constant deep chill had been getting progressively more intense, and Draco had been hard pressed to continue with his usual routine without anyone noticing his discomfort. Pain was not his forte; it never had been.

In the few hours since Potter had agreed, it had all but disappeared.

Draco's spells had been both strong and consistent that morning, and even when Potter was knocked out after hitting the shield spell that he had cast, his magic had hardly wavered, certainly not enough to have demonstrable effects. As lunch progressed, however, he had found it increasingly difficult to sit still. He had finally given in to temptation, leaving the Great Hall and heading to the hospital wing.

The general ward had been empty, and Draco would have assumed Potter had already been discharged if it hadn't been for two things.

The first was the vague sense of... awareness that since Sunday he'd felt whenever Potter was near. It was imprecise and ephemeral but strangely comforting, and it had grown stronger over the course of the week. Given the lack of potential domini in his general vicinity and the sparsity of available information about the bonding process, Draco was uncertain if the bond was identifying general candidates or his chosen, but he knew it recognized Harry Potter.

The second and more straightforward clue was the school's Potions Master, who was walking towards him via the hallway that led to the private rooms, which were used when patients were contagious, in critical condition, or required to sleep undisturbed until they woke naturally.

Draco lamented the lack of privacy as he dearly wanted to speak with Severus. Unfortunately while Draco was early for class, he was not so much so that there was time to leave for a substantial conversation and return without being late. They settled for making arrangements to meet later that afternoon, after Draco's class.

So he was left waiting, and it would seem very suspicious for Draco to be loitering in the vicinity of the only other Parselmouth he knew. The main ward and the private rooms, except for the one he believed Potter to be in, were all empty, but Draco knew that Granger, for certain, would be arriving shortly.

Since the third week of term, she had a standing appointment with Poppy before each class, to discuss any questions about the preparatory material they had read. She'd asked them during class the second week, and while Draco had followed the discussion and even contributed to it, Abbott and Greengrass had been so confused by the advanced theory that it had taken the better part of the afternoon to sort them out.

It was to be expected, since neither of them had the interest nor the intelligence for the complexities of the subject. Abbot was bright enough to realize that there was an impending war and foolish enough to believe that she could help in the infirmary despite being too squeamish to assist in battle. Greengrass seemed to be taking the course because Draco was. In fact, her greatest motivation seemed to be curiosity about his romantic interests, but he would not, under any circumstances, be interested in any of the girls in CATS: Healing. Fortunately, she was bright enough to be able to follow the set material and sufficiently indifferent to the political climate that she was unlikely to examine his behaviour as clearly as an ally or enemy would.

Unwilling to loiter in the hall and unable to check on Potter directly, Draco decided to take inventory of the potions in the supply cupboard of the hospital wing. The advantage to that particular task was the location. It was a long, narrow room with a door near either end, and one of them was nearly opposite the room Potter was occupying. The proximity would allow him to monitor the traffic into the room and hopefully enable Draco to learn more about his current status and prognosis.

He made sure the far door was closed, as it was very near to Poppy's office and he did not want to disturb her or encourage discovery, but he left the other open, for air - its proximity to the door to Potter's room was entirely coincidental.

A few moments later, he was idly noting that they were low on Deflating Draught and Skele-Gro when Poppy arrived to check on her patient, and he heard Potter ask what had happened. He sounded groggy but aware, and Draco's bond thrummed a bit in response. He had time to hear the reply to Potter's question before the door was closed, and he had to work to push aside the emotions that evoked as well. It had been years since he'd heard it, but there was too much history there for him not to recognize that voice.

Draco's relief at discovering that Potter intended to ask Remus Lupin to adopt him had been profound, surpassed only by learning that Potter was willing to perform Fidelitās Dominō. He'd been making his way to the Great Hall on Wednesday when he met up with McGonagall who had Potter in tow. The encounter would have been insignificant but for the pointed look Potter gave him as he left, which indicated something of importance. Unfortunately, Draco didn't understand the relevance. He'd puzzled over it through dinner and had finally gone to Severus that evening. When Draco described the exchange to his godfather, Severus had relaxed noticeably and explained that Lupin was one of the likeliest candidates for adopting Potter.

Draco'd had nightmares that Potter would refuse to consider taking steps to equalize the bond, that Draco would become little more than the pet of the Boy Who Lived, and he was appalled at the realization that he sincerely preferred bonding himself under even those conditions to any of his non-Potter alternatives. He was also ashamed to admit that he was nearly certain that he wouldn't have been as generous if their situations had been reversed.

Since Saturday, much of his time had been spent trying to accept that as Potter's bonded, Draco would have to spend a great deal of the rest of his life with and learn to be pleasant to - or at least polite to and respectful of - whomever Potter chose as his guardian, regardless of whether it was the Weasleys, his own Muggle relatives, or Granger's.

Each of the possibilities was daunting, but the latter two terrified him. Learning to redefine his life and his status in the world would be difficult enough without the added challenges of adapting to the Muggle world.

He'd never taken Muggle Studies, and it was not a subject about which Lucius permitted questions. There were half-bloods in Slytherin, but none were close friends, and they generally tended to play down any differences. The Muggle-borns in other houses were absolutely baffling. He'd noticed them staring incredulously at things like broomsticks, which he could understand since they would obviously be foreign, but they gawked also at portraits which seemed strange since he was reasonably certain they had them.

It defied comprehension. It was also the only thing that made the thought of the Weasleys tolerable.

Draco had been taught since he was old enough to understand that families like the Weasleys were the primary problem in the Wizarding world, since they refused to protect that world from the erosive influences of the Muggles. Instead, they welcomed Muggle-born wizards who brought with them Muggle traditions and culture, refusing to even attempt to understand the existing Wizarding ones. As a result, the latter were being lost.

In Arthur Weasley's case, only the Muggle-born fears of having a Pureblood wizard as the Head of Muggle Relations had kept him from being promoted in that department. Regardless of his competency or his enthusiasm, he wouldn't move higher than his current position in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office because of his blood status. It was the only department in the Ministry which was legally permitted to discriminate on such grounds.

The family hadn't been well off since Draco's great-uncle Arcturus Black had set out to ruin them, but they'd never been as impoverished as they were now. With that huge family to support and the stagnation of his career, they had been forced to regularly dip into their reserves. Draco really couldn't understand how the senior Weasley could be as pro-Muggle as he was under those circumstances.

Lack of professional acumen aside, Draco would still have had difficulties accepting a place in their household. He'd seen them at King's Cross and the Ministry; the mother was loud and obvious, the father was capricious and amiable - hardly an exemplary head of the family. It was no wonder he was unable to exert any control over his children.

Peter - or whatever his name was, the one who had been Head Boy a couple of years ago - who had gone to work for the Ministry after graduation, he'd chosen the Ministry, chosen it above family, when his loyalties had conflicted. The twins had proved to be completely disrespectful of authority, regardless of whether they supported that authority ideologically or not, and had left Hogwarts in the middle of their NEWT year in a display that was still talked about. They'd opened a joke shop, and their parents couldn't be pleased. Ronald had clearly been given the Prefecture by default (Draco's best guess was that Potter had refused it, having other matters that needed his attention; Finnigan was too interested in chasing anything in a skirt; Longbottom, too timid; and Thomas, too quiet) because the youngest - Please, Merlin! - Weasley boy was both arbitrary and precipitate in performing his duties. Draco had heard tell of other, older brothers, who'd graduated Hogwarts before Draco began, but he hadn't heard of them since, so he doubted they'd made much of themselves. The best of the lot seemed to be the daughter, who was generally acknowledged as one of the most powerful witches in the school, and she'd been possessed by the Dark Lord.

It would be difficult enough, learning to accept and adjust to Potter as his dominus, but to have to do so in a milieu as uncomfortable as being restricted to the company of Muggles or the Weasels... It was not something Draco had been looking forward to in the slightest.

If Lupin adopted him, things could be so much better. There was hope.

When Lupin had assumed the DADA position four years ago, Lucius had made it clear that Draco was not expected to expend a great deal of effort ingratiating himself with the new professor. Snape, too, did not seem to hold him in very high esteem, but Draco had been surprised to find that he had enjoyed his third year Defence classes. Lupin had been the first decent professor they'd had in the subject, obviously, but he'd also been a better educator than many of the others at Hogwarts.

When confronted with paternal pressure, Draco had resorted to ridiculing the man's attire - behind his back only, he hadn't quite been able to do it to his face - partly in the hope that it would prompt him to take more care with his appearance. It wasn't until the end of the year when Draco learned of Lupin's lycanthropy that he understood why his professor was dressed as if he were a Weasley. It had been a shock to discover that such a clever and competent wizard, someone he'd admired, was at the same time a half-breed, a creature that he had been taught to fear. It was one of the first moments he had experienced of life challenging his father's dictates.

Regardless of his own political leanings or where he'd been sorted, Lupin had been scrupulously fair in his classes, rewarding and punishing students from each House alike. It had been no surprise, therefore, when having overheard Draco complaining about Hagrid's teaching methods - an understandable concern since they would leave him with no chance of passing whatever test his father would devise on the subject - he had assigned Draco a detention.

What had been surprising was that as Draco was leaving afterwards, Lupin had listed a few texts which would supplement his Care of Magical Creatures course. Draco had stormed out of the room on principle but couldn't resist checking the library. The books which had been suggested had been detailed and interesting, exactly what he'd needed to survive Lucius's examinations. Draco stopped by the professor's office on his way back to his dorm that evening and managed to thank him.

During the course of the year, Draco had continued to visit Professor Lupin when he was alone in the evening under the pretence of questions about assignments while in reality taking the opportunity to discuss any number of subjects - Defence, of course, the finer points of arithmancy, animagistry, even touching obliquely on political matters. They hadn't spoken often or for long periods of time, but the visits had meant a great deal to him. It had been a rare comfort to be allowed to be himself, whoever that was, for a few moments rather than the role he'd been forced to maintain in public.

Draco was torn from his thoughts when he heard the door to Potter's room open. He stilled, but Madam Pomfrey was the only one who exited. Before he could relax again, he heard Granger near the main entrance.

The medi-witch assured Hermione that Harry was fine, eating, with Remus, and there was no need to disturb him; recognizing that pressing the point would lead to a lecture on the often opposing demands of friend versus health professional, Granger agreed, disappointed. Once Poppy and Granger were closeted in the matron's office with the door closed, Draco expected a return to silent contemplation. He was surprised to hear conversation instead.

"I hope he wasn't too hard on you."

Draco edged around the cupboard and peeked out the open crack of the door to confirm that Poppy had indeed left the door to Potter's room slightly ajar when she'd left.

"It was weird, he - " Another pause. "It was fine. Just - fine."

"And Draco?"

"It's hard." Draco wished he could see the other boy; his tone was hard to read and a glimpse of his expression and body language would help. "I know Malfoy has been awful in the past, but he's been better in the last year or so."

"I am aware that Draco, like Severus, has been forced to maintain a certain role in public." Draco was surprised at how relieved he was that the older man had understood the reasons behind Draco's cutting remarks.

"Why anyone would work for that image is beyond me."

Draco heard Potter's comment and immediately tensed. How in the name of Merlin was he supposed to trust and submit himself to someone so oblivious and, and- Gryffindor! He almost wished he could find a dominus who understood Wizarding and Slytherin traditions but stopped the thought when he realized that he was describing the Dark Lord.

"Harry- " Lupin paused. Draco assumed he was trying to find words that were both diplomatic and simple enough for him to understand.

"Your status as the Boy Who Lived in the Wizarding world and as Dudley's cousin with the Muggles are wildly divergent, and that has unavoidably coloured your experiences in each. Draco's situation is similar, something of a mirror image, and his descent had been effected deliberately, the result of an intentional betrayal by his family. He's a proud boy, Harry, who will have to kneel at the feet of his rival. Think about that. Add to that the compulsions and the credulous nature of the bond. Think about how you would react in his situation."

Knowing what he did about Potter's status in the wizarding world, Lupin's lecture intimated a great deal about his life with his relatives. Draco pushed it aside to think about later, when the pain inflicted by the truth of Lupin's blunt words had faded.

"You're not a terribly patient person by nature, Harry, and neither is Draco. Both of you will need to work on that, and there's not much margin for error within the confines of your new relationship."

Draco was aware of how important it was that he, as well as Potter, take Lupin's words to heart. Gryffindor intentions or not, Draco couldn't rely solely on Potter; he knew too well what the other boy's temper was like - he'd become an expert in baiting it the last few years. Even when he wasn't deliberately trying, Draco had a tendency to lash out verbally when he was under stress, and attacking the Gryffindors when pressured by Lucius had quickly become an ingrained habit. It was fortuitous that he'd been practising restraint all term, or the situation would be even more dire.

In the silence following Lupin's remarks, as Draco waited for Potter to respond, he heard a noise, a snick that sounded like a door. Draco held his breath, afraid that they'd closed the door properly, but in another moment the conversation continued, and Draco slowly exhaled.

"I know, and I'll try to be supportive and understanding. I just... It's such an important step. I mean, it's a really big deal. I'm scared; he must be terrified. He's giving up everything, almost everyone he's ever cared about, and what will he get in exchange? A bunch of people he's always hated, and me! And after the dreadful way I treated him in Potions, I don't see how he can want to... I mean, it's me! How can he be comfortable with this?"

"You'll need to talk to him, Harry."

"I know."

They were close to the door now, and Draco, frozen somewhere between elation and stunned disbelief, waited for the two of them to leave the room so he could begin to process what he'd overheard.

They hadn't moved more than a few feet down the hall before Potter was being stopped by Granger. Clearly she'd finished with Poppy, and he was disconcerted to realize that he had no idea how long she'd been there.

He hadn't noticed her from where he was standing, and he had no idea if she could hear any of the conversation, let alone what exactly she had heard. Judicious observation in CATS: Healing would likely answer the question; Granger was not know for her discretion.

Once the voices had moved out of range, he closed the doors to the supply room and decided to circle around, so that he'd approach the Matron's office from the other side, as though he'd just been to the loo. With luck, no one would know he'd heard anything at all.
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