Fic: Between Life and Dreams
Title: Between Life and Dreams
Author: rainclowd (carpe_slytherin)
Round 1, Prompt 69: Harry/Lucius: Postwar. Lucius is still in Azkaban, and the MoM has decreed that since the Dementors are gone, all remaining DEs are to be executed unless someone agrees to marry (or bond with) them. Harry, still angry at Lucius, discovers that Lucius actually helped the Order after Voldemort ordered Draco and Narcissa killed. He agrees to marry/bond with Lucius. I would like to see a broken Lucius - - Harry is still prepared to hate Lucius - - and does humiliate him at first - - but feels for him because like Lucius, Harry has lost people he loves because of decisions he's made(and feels guilty about). I prefer lots of angst, but a happy ending.
Other Pairings: background RW/HG, past LM/NM, past HP/GW
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this section, for naughty language)
"This is the most absurd thing that I have ever, and I mean ever heard!" Harry Potter yelled at no one in particular. He jumped to his feet without thought and was now pacing the confines of the conference room. His arms flapped and fluttered in agitation, and his always untidy black hair seemed to be standing on end.
Most of the Minister for Magic's advisors seemed to be growing more nervous with each lap he made, but not Hermione Weasley. As Harry turned away from her, Hermione glanced down at her watch and smiled slightly. He reached the end of his path and spun on his heel, catching her with her lips quirked upward in amusement.
"Oh please, Hermione, tell me that you of all people don't agree with this rubbish! You want to either murder the Death Eaters or set them free? We'll be right back where the war began in minutes."
"No, not me. I told our esteemed Minister exactly what I thought of his plan."
Harry grinned. "Another bet on my temper then?"
Hermione nodded in response. "I said five minutes; Ron picked three. I was closer." She tilted her head and said, "He has laundry duty for two weeks now."
The snort of mirth from Harry gave Scrimgeour the impression that Harry had calmed down, and the man idiotically broke into their conversation. "The convicts will be bound to upstanding members of society, not out wreaking havoc and raising a new Dark Lord, Mr. Potter. There is no one capable of properly guarding Azkaban."
It was a big mistake. There were things that Mrs. Weasley, being one of Harry's best friends, could do without incurring his wrath. Harry had no such soft feelings for the Minister for Magic. He whirled, pinning Scrimgeour with a vicious glare, eyes glowing with the emotional magic which had made him the Chosen One and defeater of You-Know-Who. With the ice cold voice reserved for idiotic bureaucrats and Daily Prophet reporters, he spat, "I didn't go through hell and back killing Voldemort and helping to get his supporters into prison just to have you let them loose again. It's called a life sentence for a reason! And if you believe that turning into a society of vicious murderers and killing them all is any better, then you are mad."
Harry stalked closer, looming over the Minister in a way few would dare. "Let's address all the problems with your plan, shall we?" he asked quietly, "We'll forget for the moment that the same man who kept innocent people imprisoned for the sake of public morale before and during the war wants to free genuine Death Eaters now that it's over, shall we?" and then more quietly still, "And we'll even ignore the fact that you sent me out of the country on a pointless 'diplomatic mission' so that you could push this bit of idiocy through the Wizengamot, knowing that I would loudly object if I was here."
The committee was silent, hardly breathing as the tea service in the center of the table rattled in sympathy with Potter's anger. Harry straightened and resumed his pacing. The silver settled into peaceful silence again and the handful of people exhaled as one. "Yes, we'll put those concerns aside," Harry continued, "and move right into the important matters. The idea has some merits, but this," he said as he stopped and slammed his copy of the new decree on the tabletop, "is sloppily done. It has more holes than a sponge. We need to make amendments before unscrupulous wizards take advantage."
The Minister's advisors were relieved. None of them had been very happy with the proposal as it was written, but Scrimgeour had been able to steamroller their objections without Harry there to lend strength to their arguments.
The only one who didn't seem happy with the direction of the discussion was the Minister himself, but Harry was able to soothe him into silence before he had time to do more than sputter. Harry said, "We need to make this workable, because Minister Scrimgeour does have a good point. Azkaban is overcrowded, and after all the losses of the war and the defection of the Dementors, we don't have the manpower to keep the prison secure. If we can provide a safe and effective way to let private citizens help with the problem, great." He took a deep breath. "But as the law stands, it would be neither safe nor effective."
There were nods and mutters of agreement as Harry took his seat again. He pulled a scroll of parchment from his trouser pocket and unrolled it onto the table top. "Here are the problems as I see them," he said, and glanced at his co-workers. They were listening closely, quills poised to make their own notes, "The first thing we need to consider is who will decide if a prisoner may participate, and the criteria they will use. Second, we need to make provisions in the event that the primary bonder dies or can no longer supervise their… spouse. If that happens will they be freed, killed, sent to another prison, passed on like some sort of property, something else?" He tapped his finger against each item in turn as he read, "How will a decision be made if more than one prospective bonder requests a specific bond-mate? Will there be duels, some sort of magical or psychological tests. Will the prisoner have some say in the decision? And exactly how will we hold the primary bonder responsible for the actions of their bond-mate, what sort of consequences will there be to both parties if the contract is violated through the use of Dark magic, artifacts, or other crimes? Also, the way this is worded leaves the primary bonder with complete and total power over their bond-mate, so how will we secure their safety and welfare?" Harry paused for a moment, looked around at each of them, and then finished up. "There are a lot of other minor points, but I think they will fall into place as we settle the larger issues. Does anyone have anything to add before we get started?"
The silence broke all at once with chattering and the creaking of chairs as the committee came back to themselves. Rufus Scrimgeour sighed heavily and called a house elf, commenting that it was going to be a long day. One of the older advisors dashed to his office to call his wife. He would not be home as early as he had planned. Hermione stretched, beaming at Harry with pride the whole while. She was still the champion of the rights of every underdog, even when the supposed underdogs were vicious Death Eating murderers. Others dashed off to the loo or to send private communications during the break.
Just a few minutes later they reassembled and got down to the hard work of governing the Wizarding world. The sun was long gone by the time they finished.
~*~
The following Sunday evening found Harry taking the Floo network to Ron and Hermione's cozy, perfect little cottage. Every time he was there, which was at least once a week, he discovered all over again that their home - their life - was the stuff of Harry's childhood dreams.
They had the happily ever after of a storybook life. They fought like every couple, but had managed to love their way through a war and keep Harry going as well. Now they had work they enjoyed and were planning to start their own family. Ron and Hermione were content, exactly where they were meant to be. Harry loved spending time there with his two best friends, but something inside him cringed at the idea that he might be destined for a similar fate.
The three friends ate supper together. Bites of food were sandwiched between bouts of small talk, bursts of teasing from Ron about getting Ginny away from her current boyfriend and back together with Harry, and offers from Hermione to set him up with every female she had ever met. Harry hid his irritation at their lack of subtlety and enjoyed himself for the most part.
After the meal, an uncomfortable silence fell over the trio. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances and Harry was instantly on alert. "What?" he drawled out as he looked back and forth between their anxious expressions. He had seen those looks before, and he had to fight not to Disapparate right away to avoid whatever news was coming his way.
Ron fidgeted; Hermione looked down at her clasped hands. Both avoided meeting Harry's eyes.
"Let's go to the living room," Hermione suggested.
At exactly the same time, Ron asked, "Care for a beer, mate?" Again, their eyes met in a silent conversation which excluded their impatient best friend.
Harry sighed, knowing that this was going to be bad. Very bad. "Fine, then. We'll get beers and go to the living room to drink them." He lifted his glasses from his nose with his left hand and massaged the bridge beneath them with his right. Once he had the urge to scream under control, he aimed a vicious glare at each of them. "And while we drink them, you will both stop avoiding whatever it is that you need to say and just tell me. Right?"
The directive was answered with a matching set of sheepish nods. Harry and Hermione got comfortable in the living room and Ron joined them soon after, two beers and a glass of wine balanced carefully in his big hands. He distributed the drinks and took a seat on the sofa beside his wife.
Sitting in the armchair across from his best friends, Harry took a sip of his beer and waited silently. He'd be damned before he'd get this conversation started since he had a fairly good idea that he didn't want to be here for it at all.
Hermione finally took it upon herself to break the awkward stillness. "Harry, there's… well. There's a problem- "
"-A big problem, mate- " Ron broke in.
"-With the new decree," Hermione concluded, sending her husband a disapproving frown for the interruption.
Harry picked at the edge of the label on his bottle. He had known there would be problems the moment he saw the piece of shite the Minister had produced, but he hadn't expected one to crop up so soon. "All right, a problem," he agreed. His voice dripped his rising aggravation, "Would you care to enlighten me now, or should I try out my barely existent skills in Legilimency and save you the trouble?"
"Sorry, Harry," Ron said. He licked his lips, a familiar nervous gesture. "It's just that you are going to be very angry. But it would be worse if you found out some other way."
Hermione could only agree with her husband's assessment. She grinned ruefully and added, "We're rather caught between loyalty and self-preservation, you see."
"Did you do something wrong?" Harry retorted.
"No. No, it wasn't us. Actually, no one did anything precisely wrong," Ron answered.
"Then I may get angry, but not with you. No need for such worry. Just spill it."
Ron gathered his courage. "Percy owled me yesterday from his office in Wizengamot Support Services. There has already been a claim made for a prisoner. You know how serious it must be for Perfect Percy to lower himself to speaking with me, to warning me. Especially considering the person who made the claim." He gripped Hermione's hand, fixing his earnest gaze on Harry. "It's Fudge, Harry. Cornelius Fudge is making a play for one of the Azkaban inmates."
Harry's eyes went wide. "Fudge? But he's been so quiet. Laying low!" A sense of impending doom swamped him. "Oh fuck. Who does he want?"
"Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy," Ron said. The Weasleys held their breaths, waiting for Harry to explode. He said nothing though, so Hermione quickly picked up the reins of the conversation.
"And it gets worse, Harry," she said, "because the amendments we made to the decree last week haven't passed yet, Fudge would get Malfoy under the original proposal. He would get all the Malfoy money and property, as well as unlimited power over Malfoy himself. He would have no protection."
Ron nodded, expression completely serious. "It would make Malfoy nothing more than a bound slave, under the Imperius Curse through contract instead of a spell." His voice was getting shakier with each word. "Can you imagine what that idiot Fudge would do with Malfoy's wealth and political connections? It would be ugly, mate."
Harry set his elbows on his knees and dropped his throbbing head into the cradle of his hands. His hair hung down over his face and hid his rising colour from his friends' concerned looks, but they could tell by the rattling of their window panes that he was extremely upset.
After a moment in which he obviously struggled for control over his emotions, Harry stood. His fists were clenched tightly and pressed against his thighs and he was taking deep, noisy breaths. That was expected. Then he smiled. That was when Ron and Hermione went from concern to fear.
"I'm sorry. I know I promised not to get angry, and I'm not angry with you at all," Harry said softly. It was a tone of voice that emerged when he was one step away from destroying a room. "I just need a few minutes. Everything will be fine."
The Weasleys heard the pop of Disapparition, and Harry vanished. They waited, knowing he would go to the room in Grimmauld Place which was warded to provide Remus with a safe place to transform. There he would work off his excess anger, conjuring and destroying anything that came to mind and throwing hexes at the walls. He would return when he was ready to continue.
Hermione barely had time to clean the dishes and tidy up from supper when Harry returned, flushed and panting, but much calmer. He smiled again, but this time it was much less terrifying. Harry sank back into his chair. "So, where were we?"
"Malfoy," Ron said.
"Fudge," added Hermione.
"Fuck," was Harry's concise and accurate summary of the situation, "Wouldn't Lucius Malfoy be the absolute last person considered for this programme?" He nodded gratefully to Ron, who had kindly brought another round of beer. He needed it.
"No, he's a prime candidate actually," Hermione said thoughtfully, "Exonerated in the first war, spent the entirety of the second in Azkaban. Yes, he has the Dark Mark, but there was almost no solid evidence of him committing a crime worse than breaking and entering into the Department of Mysteries." Both boys were nodding along, although all three looked troubled. "Then Voldemort killed his wife and son because of Draco's supposed failure to kill Dumbledore. He has no known loyalty to any Dark forces which remain."
"And he is a pureblood with deep ties to the Wizarding world. There's little flight risk," Harry muttered. "What are we going to do?" he asked, mostly speaking to himself. His fingers absent-mindedly twirled his beer bottle and he stared into and through the glass as if it held all the answers he sought.
Ron and Hermione both shrugged and held their peace though they had discussed it on their own. Through years of experience, the two had discovered that it was best to let Harry work through and discard his own theories. Then, and only then, would Hermione be able to give Harry the answer she had known all along. If she told him before he had run out of his own ideas he would try even harder to come up with alternatives, dismissing the true solution from sheer stubbornness long after he would have accepted it if they had only been patient.
That hard-won knowledge made it even more shocking when the next words out of Harry's mouth were, "Well then, I suppose someone will have to step forward and contest the former Minister's claim, unless we are willing to assassinate either Fudge or Malfoy and save the trouble?" He looked hopeful, but not in the least surprised by Hermione's glare or Ron's look of amused disbelief. "No," he said, sighing, "I thought not."
"There aren't many people who could possibly beat Fudge."
"Are you joking?" Harry retorted to Ron's despairing comment. "Lucius Malfoy is loaded, connected, and gorgeous. They'll be queueing up for miles for a shot at him."
Hermione had fixed Harry with one of her calculating looks. Sometimes he thought he feared them more than he had feared Voldemort. They never boded well for him. "Yes Harry, but none of them have the sort of political clout necessary. Fudge was first. Anyone else who applies is going to have to prove that they are more qualified than he is."
Ron nodded. "And to be honest, fewer will try than you think. Who wants to take responsibility for someone with a reputation like Malfoy's?"
"Who could control him?" Hermione mused. Harry fought the need to squirm beneath her intense gaze. He had the strange feeling that he knew where she was leading. It wasn't as if he hadn't already thought it, discarded it, and thought of it again repeatedly in the last few minutes.
"You think I should do it."
"I'm not the only one."
Ron snorted, making it clear that Hermione didn't mean him.
Harry knocked back the rest of his beer, set the bottle onto the floor and slouched down in his chair. "Well yeah," he said, sighing heavily, "the thought had crossed my mind. But only if we can't find anyone else! I don't want to be stuck with him for the rest of my life!" He had closed his eyes, missing the sceptical glances his friends exchanged.
They didn't say a word about their doubts: nothing about how Harry had just now admitted that he was attracted to Lucius and hadn't said anything about how much he hated him. They kept silent about how obsessed Harry had been with Malfoy's son in school. They didn't mention how Harry had gone on about how handsome Tom Riddle had been, and they were way too smart to mention Harry's constant loneliness or that his relationships with women were few and far between and doomed to failure before they had even begun. Instead, Hermione brought out quill and parchment, and they started their plan of attack, beginning with a very short list of other potential bonding candidates.
~*~
They were almost out of time and ideas. The circles under Hermione's eyes testified to days on end with almost no sleep. She compulsively checked lists of facts over and over even though she must have memorised them long ago. Ron stared at Harry. He was running his hands through his hair every few minutes so hard that Harry feared he was sending himself down the path to premature baldness.
Harry, in contrast, was completely still for once, both mentally and physically. He had settled into a strange, disconnected calm as the idea of being forced into yet another destiny which he did not desire and did not understand swiftly made its way from the realm of the vaguely possible into the nearly inevitable.
All of them - Harry included - were waiting for Harry to lose control, to become angry, to rail against an unwanted life-long commitment to a man he had hated and feared since childhood. It didn't come, and that scared them all. Harry knew that the unnatural stillness wouldn't last. It was the heavy false peace of gathered, black and towering storm clouds. What frightened Harry the most was the knowledge that the longer it lasted, the more devastating the destruction would be when the emotional storm finally broke.
"There's only one more thing for me to try," Harry mused into the dead silence, "It's time to go to Azkaban. Maybe Mr. Malfoy will have ideas that haven't occurred to us." He rubbed his sore and tired eyes before standing. "Maybe I could find a Dementor and 'accidentally' set it on him before the binding ceremony," he muttered as he made his way to the door, "Having his body wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to deal with his personality."
Harry heard Ron's snickers and Hermione's disgusted ranting about the insensitivity of men in general and the two of them in particular as he closed the door quietly behind himself. At least some things would never change.
Pushing aside thoughts of splinching himself due to fatigue, Harry focused on the main guardhouse of Azkaban prison and Disapparated.
~*~
Three hours later, Harry Potter was grateful for his feeling of detachment. It had been strained to the limit by all the paperwork, searches, repeated explanations of the code of conduct for visiting dangerous prisoners, and a few too many expressions of gratitude for Harry's defeat of Voldemort.
He clung to the tattered remnants of calm tightly as he followed the chattering guard who had been assigned to bring him to Lucius Malfoy's cell. If the guy really thought Harry would answer questions from a stranger about his personal life and dating habits after all these years as the Wizarding world's favourite gossip rag fodder, then he was an idiot. Harry did his best to tune out the irritating man and concentrate on the meeting ahead. It was a relief to arrive at his destination despite the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
Harry nodded, thanked his guide as politely as he could manage, and stepped into the cell. Smiling in what he hoped was an apologetic manner at the man who was being all too obvious about his desire to eavesdrop, Harry closed the door firmly in the guard's face.
Immediately, Harry's eyes settled on Lucius Malfoy's form. He was on his cot, huddled in the far corner. His head was bowed and his hair fell in a pale curtain which obscured his face. To Harry's astonishment, Lucius didn't even look up at the sound of someone entering the tiny grey room. If it wasn't for the other man's familiar, though far thinner, frame, Harry would never have recognised him. It was disturbing in a way he couldn't begin to put into words.
Harry took another step inside, peering at the dirty stone walls and meager excuse for furnishings. He shivered and cleared his throat. There was a chill in the air that wasn't just the temperature. Harry could feel the residue of the Dementors. They were no longer guarding the fortress, but their horrid effects still lingered. No wonder Malfoy looked like a ghost of himself.
"Mr. Malfoy?" The unkempt screen of hair shifted and Harry caught sight of one grey eye. Harry was momentarily at a loss. He had come prepared to battle Malfoy's arrogance and disdain and was thrown off balance by this lack of, well, anything. "I need to speak with you about something very important. Would you mind if I conjured a chair?" Lucius gave an apathetic wave of his hand and watched in silence as Harry wandlessly created the chair and took a seat.
It took all of Harry's self-discipline not to fidget. "You must be wondering why I'm here," he started, although Lucius had displayed no signs of curiosity. He explained the new Ministry decree, Fudge's claim, and why it was a bad idea both for Malfoy himself and the whole Wizarding community. "So, I've been trying to find an alternative. I can't imagine that you'd rather die than be bonded," he said. Malfoy grimaced and Harry took that as agreement. Sitting forward slightly and ticking points off on his fingers, Harry outlined what he and his best friends had already done. "Can you think of any other avenues we should pursue? We're running out of time."
For long minutes, Lucius didn't say anything. He rocked back and forth slightly and stared at his hands. Harry was as patient as he could be, but eventually had to accept that there would be no brilliant last minute solution from the source of his problems. He shifted to stand, about to thank the older man and leave, when Malfoy finally spoke. "No one wants me. I'm sorry."
Harry sat back, blinking in shock. This was not the Lucius Malfoy he had known. Not only had Malfoy admitted that he wasn't the centre of the universe and apologised to one Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died-Many-Times-Over, but he didn't even sound like himself. The voice that had once sent shivers down Harry's spine with its smooth, cultured tone and ability to convey so much with the tiniest change of inflection was no more. It had been replaced by a hoarse whisper, cracking with despair. Harry was even more disconcerted than before. He had entered the cell determined to be as calm and polite as he could and keep his hatred of this man under control. Now he was feeling… what? Sympathy? Compassion? Caring? Protectiveness? No. No, he detested Lucius Malfoy. The man was evil, through and through. He didn't deserve Harry's gentler emotions.
Locking his confusion away to be dealt with later, Harry put his last-ditch solution forward. "If you could be bonded to me rather than Fudge, would that be preferable?"
"You don't want me either."
"Well, no. Can you really blame me with the history between us?" Harry asked. He brushed his hair back and sighed. "But I am qualified, unmarried, and would much rather do this than allow Fudge to have complete dominion over you. I would be willing," he paused, voice turning thoughtful, "no, I would insist that we be bonded in a more humane way than the original decree required." He shrugged. It took an effort to put his beliefs on the matter into words. "You may have to essentially become someone's ward either way, but no one deserves to be another person's property."
Malfoy said something very, very quietly. It was so softly spoken that Harry couldn't be sure he had heard correctly, but what he thought the other man said was, "Maybe I deserve whatever I get." For some reason, that self-condemnation brought Harry closer to exploding than anything else in this crazed situation had so far. Harry carefully cleared his mind, positive that a burst of destructive wild magic would not be well-received by the under-trained guards of Azkaban. It was a close call.
When he looked up again, it was to find Lucius rocking and staring at his hands again. A surge of righteous fury spiked up from the pit of Harry's stomach, ruining his efforts to calm himself and breaking through his muffling blanket of surrealism. How dare this Death Eater, someone who had been the cause of so much suffering, act as if he was the one who was injured. It was insupportable!
Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor place for airing the ghosts of their pasts. If all went according to plan, there would be more than enough time in the future. For now it was time to leave before Harry's volatile temper got the better of him.
He stood, turning to look at his conjured armchair. After considering it for a moment, he decided not to banish it. He levitated it to the side and out of the way, then crouched down in front of Malfoy, touching his leg to get his attention. "It's time for me to go."
Lucius nodded silently, eyes cast down, and Harry was struck yet again by the changes in the man.
"I don't know how the hearing is going to be run. You may have little say, or you may have the final decision." His lip curled up at one corner in an expression that was half-grin, half-grimace. Of all people, Harry understood how it felt to have important decisions taken out of his hands. "At least you now know what is happening and what your options will be should the choice be yours."
"Give it some thought," Harry said as he rose, "and we'll see each other in a few days." He knocked on the door and the same guard who had taken him down now released him from the cell.
Harry felt the weight of Lucius Malfoy's eyes on him until the door was closed and warded between them. He missed it, however, when the other man crept from his cot and curled himself into Harry's chair to soak in the lingering warmth.
~*~
There were details to wrap up that filled much of the time between Harry's trip to Azkaban and Lucius Malfoy's hearing before the Wizengamot. Some were necessary, like completing a wide assortment of legal paperwork and procuring and charming a set of bonding rings - just in case. Others, like refurnishing his guest room so that Lucius would have space of his own and buying himself a bigger bed (because there was no way in this God-forsaken world he was going without sex for the rest of his life, even if he did end up married to Lucius-Fucking-Malfoy) didn't really need to be done beforehand. Harry wouldn't have, but hard experience had taught him to believe in his precognitive abilities.
From the start of this little adventure, Harry had felt a sense of the inevitable, and it was growing by leaps and bounds the closer they came to doomsday. Earlier it had been a pressure like a wind blowing constantly against the edge of his mind. Now, twelve hours before the hearing was scheduled to begin, it felt like Apparition: he was being squeezed tightly into a tube and tugged through it at mind-boggling speed. He would bet his last knut that by the same time tomorrow he would be a married man.
Every minute he could spare had been spent with his loved ones, on the assumption that he would have very little free time after the bonding. He would be busy adjusting and helping Lucius adjust. So he had lazed about with Ron and Hermione, and visited and explained everything to the rest of the Weasleys and a few other close friends. Some of the conversations had been tougher than others. Most of his loved ones respected him and his decisions, whether or not they approved. Others accepted his news with much less grace and decorum, but had indeed accepted in the end.
There were two conversations that had been far more difficult for Harry to initiate than all the rest, because Lucius Malfoy had caused the two a great deal of pain on a very personal level. Harry would have given anything to put those two talks off, or avoid them altogether, but he did not have the luxury of time.
It was a nervous Harry Potter who sat down to speak with Dobby the house-elf about his upcoming bonding with the elf's former master, but Harry truly felt that he owed it to the small creature. Dobby was not only a long-time friend, but also the only help he had around the house - paid of course. Luckily, Dobby had taken the news quite well, happy that "his Harry" would have someone now. Dobby had a certain amount of confidence in himself after so many years free, and also knew that Harry would always protect him. He had promised to tell Harry right away if there were any difficulties with Lucius, and that had been that. The excitable elf had hugged Harry around the knees before dashing off to plot a wonderful meal with all of "Master Lucius and Harry Potter sir's" favourite foods to welcome them home, leaving a bemused- but relieved- Harry behind.
His apprehension about Dobby had been misplaced; unfortunately, his fears about speaking with Ginny Weasley were well-founded. After leaving messages for her at several places and not hearing back, Harry had finally tracked her down in person at a nightclub.
As usual, the word had spread quickly that Harry Potter was there and it hadn't taken long for it to get around to Ginny. He watched from a corner booth as she tilted her head, listening as a gossiping acquaintance yelled the news into her ear. Immediately, Ginny's cinnamon-brown eyes swept the edges of the room for him. She smiled at her friend and yelled something back with a vague wave in Harry's direction and then made her way toward him.
Harry already had a drink waiting for her when she slid onto the padded bench across the table from him. He threw a volley of Silencing and other privacy charms up as she downed half of it in one gulp. "What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" she asked him quite seriously, brushing her sweaty hair behind her ears.
"Looking for you."
"Why?"
He sighed, taking in her dilated pupils and the distinctive smell that spoke of a night's heavy recreational potion use. "I need to talk to you about something really important, but you don't seem to be in any shape-"
"I'm fine! Why do you always have to sound like my mother?"
"Well obviously not because we both care and worry about you," he said. It was meant to be sarcastic, but came out sounding sad instead.
"Oh, for fuck's sake! After everything that happened, I want to have a little fun! Not all of us can be as responsible and dedicated as the great-"
Harry held his hands up in supplication. "I know, I know. We've been through this a thousand times. You aren't ready to settle down."
"Damn right, I'm not. I deserve my freedom."
"Look, I don't understand, but it isn't my business anymore. Despite the teary interviews you give about how much you still love me, we both want different things." He shrugged and took a sip from his own glass. "That's why we never got back together, right?"
"That doesn't mean I don't love you, Harry."
He smiled. "I know, but it means you don't love me the way I need to be loved. You want to party. I want a family."
"For now. The war was horrible. Is it wrong to want to be a kid for a while now that I can?"
"No, not necessarily wrong. We're simply different."
"It won't be forever, Harry. We might still have a chance someday, if you're willing to wait."
"Actually," Harry said after a deep breath, "that's why I'm here." He looked out over the dancing crowd to avoid her gaze, squirming in his seat. "I think I'm going to be bonded tomorrow."
Ginny gaped at him. "You think? But you aren't even seeing anyone, are you?" Harry shook his head and launched into the events of the last week. He had told the story so many times now that he was fairly sure he could do it in his sleep. As he spoke, he watched Ginny trying to take it all in. He had hoped that she would take it as philosophically as she had taken their break-up at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, but her Weasley temper won instead.
Leaping to her feet, Ginny threw her glass against the wall. It shattered outside their little protected nook, gathering the attention of everyone near them. They couldn't hear what she was saying, but they could see her red, angry face and her hands whizzing through the air as she gave the Savior of the Wizarding world a good telling-off. Harry wasn't protected by Silencing charms. He was getting every word, every shriek, at full volume.
"Harry James Potter! That man tried to kill me. Merlin alone knows how many people he actually has murdered! He's a Death Eater!"
It continued, on and on. Ginny barely paused for breath and never long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. There wasn't much else he could do but ride the flood out patiently. She would have to stop someday…
Harry had forgotten that Ginny was the daughter of Molly Weasley, the woman who held the record for the longest and loudest rants in all of Britain. He kept quiet and let her work it out until she stopped, panting, eyes narrowed, and said, "I'll kill him," in a quietly deadly voice.
"No you won't, Ginny."
"Why the hell not?"
"I am making a vow to protect him, to take care of him for the rest of our lives. I may hate him, but he is going to be my bond-mate. My husband."
"It would kill you if I killed him," Ginny said in a resigned voice. Harry nodded. They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their own inner worlds. "Would you at least fuck me, Harry?"
Harry was struck dumb. Blinking into Ginny's wide and earnest stare, he hunted for something, anything, to say in response. All words, all forms of response, had fled in the wake of Ginny's request.
"Don't I deserve that, Harry? Just one night before he gets you forever?"
Within the confines of his mind, which had stayed disconnected from his mouth, Harry had been trying to think of a way to let Ginny down gently. His noble thoughts were swept away by his ex-girlfriend's self-absorption. "Deserve? How does one go about earning something like that? Do tell!"
Ginny took her turn at sputtering wordlessly.
"You seem to think you are entitled to a great deal. You deserve to run around shagging anyone you feel like while stringing me along. You're entitled to take drugs and piss your life away." He ignored her outraged gasps, continuing, "You are entitled to frighten your parents and everyone who cares about you with your horrible attitude! You deserve to have no responsibilities and have fun because you fought a war while conveniently forgetting that the rest of us fought that war too and we still have to act like adults once in a while."
Tears were shimmering in Ginny's eyes, but Harry was on a roll. He had been holding this back for a long time. "And now you deserve my virginity? You know how I feel about marriage and family, Ginny. I know that you believe me old-fashioned and silly, but don't I have the right to pledge my body completely to the person I marry?"
"But Harry," Ginny was sniffling now. It was not attractive. "You don't love Malfoy!"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately attempting to stave off a mounting headache. He counted to twenty, then set about the arduous task of clearing his mind and calming his temper. When he thought he had reined it in, he looked up and came face to face with a sad, lost-looking Ginny.
He got up and slid around the table, taking his friend into his arms and rocking her gently. "It isn't about loving Lucius, Ginny. I may never love him and I can't even imagine that he could ever love me." Not having a handkerchief with him, he grabbed a napkin to dab away the tears that were now rolling slowly down her cheeks. "It's not about whether you deserve it or whether he does. It's about my values, about whether or not I can bear to look at myself in the mirror."
Pulling away just far enough to look Ginny in the eye, Harry paused. He smoothed her long red hair back, away from her beautiful face. "Can you try to understand that for me?"
"I'll try. I promise."
"Thanks, love. That's all I could hope for," Harry said, pulling Ginny back into his arms and holding her close while she sobbed quietly.
"What am I doing, Harry?" Ginny muttered into Harry's chest, clinging to him like the child she still was in so many ways.
"Dealing with everything as best you can, I suspect."
"And doing a good job of bollocksing it up."
"You'll get it sorted, and I'll be here for you. Your whole family will be with you every step of the way."
"Are we still family then?"
"Always, Ginny. Always."
~*~
Harry was not as rested as he would have hoped to be the next morning. For long hours he had stayed with Ginny, waiting for the potions she had taken to work their way out of her system before taking her to the Burrow. He had remained long enough to see her safely into the arms of her parents before he Apparated home and collapsed into his new bed for a few hours of restless sleep.
Luckily, Harry was good at functioning that way; he had a lot of practice. By the time he had gone through his morning exercise routine, showered and forced himself to eat a light breakfast, there were no outer signs of the difficult night he had. He was grateful for that at least.
Over time, Harry had learned that appearances were dreadfully important, and that people often judged by them. In today's battle, Fudge was going to have the advantage of being the former Minister for Magic, with the decades of political maneuvering and alliances that entailed. In order to beat him, Harry would have to be perfect in every way. That included looking every inch the wealthy and powerful Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.
To that end, Harry dressed very carefully and conservatively. He wore dark green robes over a black under-robe. There was nothing fancy about them, but they were perfectly tailored and of the finest materials. Over the top of that, he wore a matching black cloak bearing the Potter and Black family crests and edged with the ribbon of office which he was entitled to as a member of the Minister's cabinet. It billowed behind him when he walked in a way that would impress even Severus Snape. Black dragonhide boots on his feet and his Order of Merlin, first class, around his neck completed the outfit.
His wand was strapped into the holster on his forearm and he had all the paperwork he needed in his black dragonhide satchel, along with the Invisibility Cloak he carried everywhere and a set of clothing for Lucius. Harry was as ready as he could possibly be.
Dobby seemed to agree. "Harry Potter looks very handsome today, sir. You is easily winning Master Lucius!"
Harry smiled at the house-elf, taking courage from his enthusiastic praise. "Thanks, Dobby. I hope you're right." Harry crouched down and hugged his small friend. "With any luck, I will be back soon. Married." He stood and waved one last time before he vanished, leaving only a soft pop of displaced air behind.
"Good luck be with you, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered "You truly is a great, great wizard."
~*~
It was obvious by the bedlam in the Ministry atrium that the story of Lucius Malfoy's hearing had been leaked to the press. As soon as Harry had stepped out of the telephone box which disguised the Ministry entrance, reporters had swarmed over him. They were all vying for his attention with shouted questions which Harry had no intention of answering.
Hiding a smirk, Harry cast a wandless and wordless charm that repelled everyone from his personal space. That done, it was much easier to ignore the verbal barrage and make his way to the security desk. Eric Munch, the guard on duty, shot him a sympathetic look as Harry flicked his wand from its holster and handed it over for registration.
Harry grinned in response and shrugged. "It's going to be one of those days." He pushed his wand back into place when it was returned to him. After receiving the guard's whispered good wishes, Harry nodded to him and turned. He plastered a look of relaxed confidence onto his face and strode toward the lifts, using his cloak to best effect. The cameras of the Wizarding press clicked away around him and he knew the photo would grace the front of the next Daily Prophet.
Thanks to his handy little charm, Harry had the lift to himself and the ride to level nine and walk down the stairs to the courtroom was peaceful. By the time he stepped through the heavy doors of the room and found a seat, he had his thoughts collected and was ready to make his appeal. He only wished that he wasn't the one to speak first. Being able to hear and respond to Harry's statements would only serve to provide another advantage to Fudge, but that was his right as the first petitioner. Harry would just have to do his best.
After a rather pleasant period in which Harry exchanged greetings or acknowledging nods with familiar faces and adeptly avoided both Fudge and the few reporters who had been allowed in the room, the Wizengamot filed in. A few minor points of business were addressed and then the signal was given to have Lucius Malfoy brought forward.
Harry watched in concern as the once-proud man stumbled in between two Azkaban guards. His gaze never once lifted from the floor in front of him and he showed no signs of even noticing the people around him. And if Harry wasn't mistaken, there was the shadow of a bruise across one gaunt cheekbone which hadn't been there just a couple days ago during their visit, and which hadn't had time to heal completely, even with magic.
A wave of protective feelings washed over Harry, confusing and angering him. There was no reason for him to feel bad for this man who had been so cruel and arrogant, but he did. The cycle was reinforced by the murmur of approval and smirks at Malfoy's expense which followed his slow progress toward the centre of the room. Harry wanted to scream at them all to stop behaving like a pack of rabid hyenas, but had to keep himself under control. If he let his anger and disgust get the better of him now he would lose his case before he had even begun. Even knowing that, Harry had to bite down hard on his bottom lip when the guards manhandled Malfoy into the prisoner's chair and cast the charm chaining him into it. Sometimes the Wizarding world seemed completely barbaric and Harry had to wonder to himself whether it might not have been better to let Voldemort destroy the whole thing.
The proceedings began then in earnest, so Harry pulled himself from his destructive thoughts and paid attention. After only a few minutes of introductory remarks summarising the decree and reminding the Wizengamot that this hearing was being conducted under the terms of the original rather than the amended version, Harry was called forward.
Harry stood beside Lucius Malfoy's chair, green eyes sweeping the assemblage. Several of his friends and surrogate family were in attendance, bolstering his flagging pre-speech nerves. A discreet thumbs up from Hermione let him know that he looked good, making it easier for him to stand tall and meet the eyes of some of the most powerful wizards and witches in the world as he began.
"Good morning, Minister Scrimgeour," he started, with nod of his head to the man presiding over the day's session, "and to you, elders and fellow members of the Wizengamot." Harry bowed gracefully and with just enough deference to each section of the stands.
"I stand before you today, of my own free will, to plead for the honour of being bound to Lucius Malfoy." Harry paused as a murmur ran through the crowd. Apparently, they did not see how being bound to a disgraced wizard could be an honour for their favourite hero. The room quieted again as everyone waited for Harry's next surprise. He did not intend to disappoint them.
"Over the course of the last two wars, we have gotten closer and closer to losing something vital: the large part of our Wizarding heritage that is bound into the blood and traditions of our oldest pureblood families." A sip of water refreshed Harry's dry throat as he waited out another wave of sound. "Yes, I have fought and will continue to fight for the rights of the Muggleborn and those of mixed blood within our community," he said, breaking into the buzz of noise and catching everyone's attention again, "but while I am considered a half-blood myself, I am also proud to be a Potter and the sole heir to the Black estate through my late godfather."
Harry met the eyes of several people throughout the chamber, gauging the reactions to his speech so far. At the moment there was a fairly even mix, which is what he had predicted. "Many pureblood families, including the Malfoys, made poor choices over the last few decades in an effort to protect their way of life. And for that, some believe that it would be better if their lines were allowed to die out." He looked pointedly at several extremists who equated purity of blood with prejudice and evil.
"But I believe a compromise can be reached. If those old families die, a rich tradition and a wealth of knowledge dies with them. I hope that instead they can learn to understand that change isn't necessarily a bad thing and make the adjustments needed to flourish once again in a more modern, more progressive world."
Harry took another sip of water, unused to speaking so extensively before an audience. A quick glance at Hermione as he returned his glass to the table showed her nodding to him in encouragement.
"That need for adaptation and compromise is why I wish to be bonded to Mr. Malfoy in particular." He looked down at the bowed blond head, addressing his words as much to him as to the Wizengamot. "Lucius Malfoy, despite his chequered past, is a brilliant and powerful man," he said softly, but with complete conviction, "and I believe that the two of us together could lead by example. We could bring forth a new age of balance: a world in which both tradition and innovation would be respected. Cherished."
A tap of his wand against the side of his satchel distributed copies of Harry's financial statement and curriculum vitae to the voting members of the day's Wizengamot session and gently placed a set of the same papers into the lap of Lucius Malfoy so that he could get an idea of what he might be getting into. "I've told you why I wish for this bond. Now I will tell you why you should choose it as well."
Harry smiled. "As you all know, I started my personal crusade against the Dark Arts at a fairly young age." Return smiles and laughter greeted his understatement. "So you also know that I will have no tolerance for their practice in my home. I have lost too much to the Dark to risk any more losses. In the past I have fought to the death to protect the Wizarding world from the Dark, and I will continue to do so if needed. I am also very wealthy in my own right, and would not be susceptible to bribery.
"I am young, physically and magically strong, and healthy, with a terrific network of support-" a wink to his friends "-to help me deal with the difficulties of adjusting to what would essentially be an arranged marriage to a man with whom I have not always gotten along." Harry chuckled as his words were met with more laughter.
"As much as it is necessary to protect the world from any temptation Lucius Malfoy might have to return to the Dark Arts, I would like to protect and care for him as well. To that end, I request to be bonded with Mr. Malfoy under the terms of the amended decree so that he would be my partner and my husband, rather than my virtual slave."
Drained, Harry took one last inventory of the expressions of his audience. At the moment, it looked hopeful for him. With a final bow, he thanked the Wizengamot for their consideration and returned to his seat. As he walked away, he saw Lucius eyeing him from beneath the veil of his eyelashes and flashed the man a smile of encouragement. No matter what happened now, Harry was content that he had given this his all.
~*~
The wait was killing Harry. It was as simple as that. The arguments were finally complete and the Wizengamot had cleared the courtroom to discuss the petitions. Hermione, sensing that Harry was about to burst from the combination of anticipation and impatience, had dragged him out to the corridor to walk off some of his tension. Now he was pacing back and forth, protected by a phalanx of Weasleys and Hermione's excellent privacy spells.
"Fudge really wasn't prepared, was he?" Hermione asked her best friend.
"The idiot is still underestimating me. He obviously wasn't expecting serious competition."
"Don't worry, Harry. There's no way you can lose. His argument about keeping Malfoy 'secured' while easing the burden on Azkaban was weak compared to your case!"
Harry stopped, slumping against the wall and closing his eyes. "It's not always about silly things like intelligence and common sense though, Hermione. You know that. It's all a big popularity contest."
There was nothing she could say to that, so Hermione simply took her friend's hand and lent him some of her faith. Distraction was what he needed anyway. "What in the world did you say to Ginny last night?"
"Just set out a few long overdue truths, a bit more harshly than I meant to really. Why?"
"Molly said that she apologised for causing so much worry and wants to get help. They're going to set up an appointment for her with a therapist as soon as this," she said, waving toward the courtroom's wooden doors, "is finished."
The corners of Harry's mouth quirked up. It was the closest he could come to a smile while still wondering whether he would be a married man before the end of the day. "Good. I hope she can finally move on."
Hermione cocked her head to the side. "From the war or from you?"
That got a humourless chuckle. "Both. Though she was never as attached to me as she thought she was."
Just as Hermione opened her mouth to respond, the doors reopened and a witch from Wizengamot Support Services ushered everyone back into the chamber.
Harry's heart stopped. After a few missing beats it gave a mighty thud and raced as if trying to make up for that lost time. Hermione squeezed his hand and they walked into the huge room together.
"It's going to be fine, Harry."
He nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. After one more comforting hand squeeze, Hermione left him at his place to wait.
Harry sat quietly, putting all of his concentration into forcing himself not to fidget. It was an absorbing exercise, allowing Harry to ignore the calculating looks and whispers he could feel as clearly as actual physical touch. It also kept him from panicking at the sight of the somber expressions on the faces of the Wizengamot members as they filed onto the benches. And most thankfully of all, it kept him from doing something silly like running up to Lucius Malfoy and either hugging or hitting him as he was led back into the room, feet shuffling across the stone floor and his long, lank hair hiding his eyes.
Minister Scrimgeour quickly brought the session back to order. As the babble of the audience chamber died, the man's gaze flicked over the three main participants in the day's little drama. Cornelius Fudge's chest was puffed out and he smiled smugly. Lucius Malfoy was still staring at, or rather through, the floor at something only he could see. Harry was staring back at Scrimgeour, searching for some sign of what the decision would be.
The Minister stood, addressing the assemblage in his growl of a voice. "We have reached a decision. It was not easy, and it was by no means unanimous." His yellowish eyes locked onto Malfoy. "Lucius Malfoy, it is the judgment of this body that you shall be bound into the custody and care of one Harry James Potter." A roar broke out. It faded, but was not silenced by his quelling gesture. "This shall take place in one hour's time in the office of the Chief Warlock."
~*~
Continued in Part 2
Author: rainclowd (carpe_slytherin)
Round 1, Prompt 69: Harry/Lucius: Postwar. Lucius is still in Azkaban, and the MoM has decreed that since the Dementors are gone, all remaining DEs are to be executed unless someone agrees to marry (or bond with) them. Harry, still angry at Lucius, discovers that Lucius actually helped the Order after Voldemort ordered Draco and Narcissa killed. He agrees to marry/bond with Lucius. I would like to see a broken Lucius - - Harry is still prepared to hate Lucius - - and does humiliate him at first - - but feels for him because like Lucius, Harry has lost people he loves because of decisions he's made(and feels guilty about). I prefer lots of angst, but a happy ending.
Other Pairings: background RW/HG, past LM/NM, past HP/GW
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 overall (PG-13 this section, for naughty language)
"This is the most absurd thing that I have ever, and I mean ever heard!" Harry Potter yelled at no one in particular. He jumped to his feet without thought and was now pacing the confines of the conference room. His arms flapped and fluttered in agitation, and his always untidy black hair seemed to be standing on end.
Most of the Minister for Magic's advisors seemed to be growing more nervous with each lap he made, but not Hermione Weasley. As Harry turned away from her, Hermione glanced down at her watch and smiled slightly. He reached the end of his path and spun on his heel, catching her with her lips quirked upward in amusement.
"Oh please, Hermione, tell me that you of all people don't agree with this rubbish! You want to either murder the Death Eaters or set them free? We'll be right back where the war began in minutes."
"No, not me. I told our esteemed Minister exactly what I thought of his plan."
Harry grinned. "Another bet on my temper then?"
Hermione nodded in response. "I said five minutes; Ron picked three. I was closer." She tilted her head and said, "He has laundry duty for two weeks now."
The snort of mirth from Harry gave Scrimgeour the impression that Harry had calmed down, and the man idiotically broke into their conversation. "The convicts will be bound to upstanding members of society, not out wreaking havoc and raising a new Dark Lord, Mr. Potter. There is no one capable of properly guarding Azkaban."
It was a big mistake. There were things that Mrs. Weasley, being one of Harry's best friends, could do without incurring his wrath. Harry had no such soft feelings for the Minister for Magic. He whirled, pinning Scrimgeour with a vicious glare, eyes glowing with the emotional magic which had made him the Chosen One and defeater of You-Know-Who. With the ice cold voice reserved for idiotic bureaucrats and Daily Prophet reporters, he spat, "I didn't go through hell and back killing Voldemort and helping to get his supporters into prison just to have you let them loose again. It's called a life sentence for a reason! And if you believe that turning into a society of vicious murderers and killing them all is any better, then you are mad."
Harry stalked closer, looming over the Minister in a way few would dare. "Let's address all the problems with your plan, shall we?" he asked quietly, "We'll forget for the moment that the same man who kept innocent people imprisoned for the sake of public morale before and during the war wants to free genuine Death Eaters now that it's over, shall we?" and then more quietly still, "And we'll even ignore the fact that you sent me out of the country on a pointless 'diplomatic mission' so that you could push this bit of idiocy through the Wizengamot, knowing that I would loudly object if I was here."
The committee was silent, hardly breathing as the tea service in the center of the table rattled in sympathy with Potter's anger. Harry straightened and resumed his pacing. The silver settled into peaceful silence again and the handful of people exhaled as one. "Yes, we'll put those concerns aside," Harry continued, "and move right into the important matters. The idea has some merits, but this," he said as he stopped and slammed his copy of the new decree on the tabletop, "is sloppily done. It has more holes than a sponge. We need to make amendments before unscrupulous wizards take advantage."
The Minister's advisors were relieved. None of them had been very happy with the proposal as it was written, but Scrimgeour had been able to steamroller their objections without Harry there to lend strength to their arguments.
The only one who didn't seem happy with the direction of the discussion was the Minister himself, but Harry was able to soothe him into silence before he had time to do more than sputter. Harry said, "We need to make this workable, because Minister Scrimgeour does have a good point. Azkaban is overcrowded, and after all the losses of the war and the defection of the Dementors, we don't have the manpower to keep the prison secure. If we can provide a safe and effective way to let private citizens help with the problem, great." He took a deep breath. "But as the law stands, it would be neither safe nor effective."
There were nods and mutters of agreement as Harry took his seat again. He pulled a scroll of parchment from his trouser pocket and unrolled it onto the table top. "Here are the problems as I see them," he said, and glanced at his co-workers. They were listening closely, quills poised to make their own notes, "The first thing we need to consider is who will decide if a prisoner may participate, and the criteria they will use. Second, we need to make provisions in the event that the primary bonder dies or can no longer supervise their… spouse. If that happens will they be freed, killed, sent to another prison, passed on like some sort of property, something else?" He tapped his finger against each item in turn as he read, "How will a decision be made if more than one prospective bonder requests a specific bond-mate? Will there be duels, some sort of magical or psychological tests. Will the prisoner have some say in the decision? And exactly how will we hold the primary bonder responsible for the actions of their bond-mate, what sort of consequences will there be to both parties if the contract is violated through the use of Dark magic, artifacts, or other crimes? Also, the way this is worded leaves the primary bonder with complete and total power over their bond-mate, so how will we secure their safety and welfare?" Harry paused for a moment, looked around at each of them, and then finished up. "There are a lot of other minor points, but I think they will fall into place as we settle the larger issues. Does anyone have anything to add before we get started?"
The silence broke all at once with chattering and the creaking of chairs as the committee came back to themselves. Rufus Scrimgeour sighed heavily and called a house elf, commenting that it was going to be a long day. One of the older advisors dashed to his office to call his wife. He would not be home as early as he had planned. Hermione stretched, beaming at Harry with pride the whole while. She was still the champion of the rights of every underdog, even when the supposed underdogs were vicious Death Eating murderers. Others dashed off to the loo or to send private communications during the break.
Just a few minutes later they reassembled and got down to the hard work of governing the Wizarding world. The sun was long gone by the time they finished.
~*~
The following Sunday evening found Harry taking the Floo network to Ron and Hermione's cozy, perfect little cottage. Every time he was there, which was at least once a week, he discovered all over again that their home - their life - was the stuff of Harry's childhood dreams.
They had the happily ever after of a storybook life. They fought like every couple, but had managed to love their way through a war and keep Harry going as well. Now they had work they enjoyed and were planning to start their own family. Ron and Hermione were content, exactly where they were meant to be. Harry loved spending time there with his two best friends, but something inside him cringed at the idea that he might be destined for a similar fate.
The three friends ate supper together. Bites of food were sandwiched between bouts of small talk, bursts of teasing from Ron about getting Ginny away from her current boyfriend and back together with Harry, and offers from Hermione to set him up with every female she had ever met. Harry hid his irritation at their lack of subtlety and enjoyed himself for the most part.
After the meal, an uncomfortable silence fell over the trio. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances and Harry was instantly on alert. "What?" he drawled out as he looked back and forth between their anxious expressions. He had seen those looks before, and he had to fight not to Disapparate right away to avoid whatever news was coming his way.
Ron fidgeted; Hermione looked down at her clasped hands. Both avoided meeting Harry's eyes.
"Let's go to the living room," Hermione suggested.
At exactly the same time, Ron asked, "Care for a beer, mate?" Again, their eyes met in a silent conversation which excluded their impatient best friend.
Harry sighed, knowing that this was going to be bad. Very bad. "Fine, then. We'll get beers and go to the living room to drink them." He lifted his glasses from his nose with his left hand and massaged the bridge beneath them with his right. Once he had the urge to scream under control, he aimed a vicious glare at each of them. "And while we drink them, you will both stop avoiding whatever it is that you need to say and just tell me. Right?"
The directive was answered with a matching set of sheepish nods. Harry and Hermione got comfortable in the living room and Ron joined them soon after, two beers and a glass of wine balanced carefully in his big hands. He distributed the drinks and took a seat on the sofa beside his wife.
Sitting in the armchair across from his best friends, Harry took a sip of his beer and waited silently. He'd be damned before he'd get this conversation started since he had a fairly good idea that he didn't want to be here for it at all.
Hermione finally took it upon herself to break the awkward stillness. "Harry, there's… well. There's a problem- "
"-A big problem, mate- " Ron broke in.
"-With the new decree," Hermione concluded, sending her husband a disapproving frown for the interruption.
Harry picked at the edge of the label on his bottle. He had known there would be problems the moment he saw the piece of shite the Minister had produced, but he hadn't expected one to crop up so soon. "All right, a problem," he agreed. His voice dripped his rising aggravation, "Would you care to enlighten me now, or should I try out my barely existent skills in Legilimency and save you the trouble?"
"Sorry, Harry," Ron said. He licked his lips, a familiar nervous gesture. "It's just that you are going to be very angry. But it would be worse if you found out some other way."
Hermione could only agree with her husband's assessment. She grinned ruefully and added, "We're rather caught between loyalty and self-preservation, you see."
"Did you do something wrong?" Harry retorted.
"No. No, it wasn't us. Actually, no one did anything precisely wrong," Ron answered.
"Then I may get angry, but not with you. No need for such worry. Just spill it."
Ron gathered his courage. "Percy owled me yesterday from his office in Wizengamot Support Services. There has already been a claim made for a prisoner. You know how serious it must be for Perfect Percy to lower himself to speaking with me, to warning me. Especially considering the person who made the claim." He gripped Hermione's hand, fixing his earnest gaze on Harry. "It's Fudge, Harry. Cornelius Fudge is making a play for one of the Azkaban inmates."
Harry's eyes went wide. "Fudge? But he's been so quiet. Laying low!" A sense of impending doom swamped him. "Oh fuck. Who does he want?"
"Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy," Ron said. The Weasleys held their breaths, waiting for Harry to explode. He said nothing though, so Hermione quickly picked up the reins of the conversation.
"And it gets worse, Harry," she said, "because the amendments we made to the decree last week haven't passed yet, Fudge would get Malfoy under the original proposal. He would get all the Malfoy money and property, as well as unlimited power over Malfoy himself. He would have no protection."
Ron nodded, expression completely serious. "It would make Malfoy nothing more than a bound slave, under the Imperius Curse through contract instead of a spell." His voice was getting shakier with each word. "Can you imagine what that idiot Fudge would do with Malfoy's wealth and political connections? It would be ugly, mate."
Harry set his elbows on his knees and dropped his throbbing head into the cradle of his hands. His hair hung down over his face and hid his rising colour from his friends' concerned looks, but they could tell by the rattling of their window panes that he was extremely upset.
After a moment in which he obviously struggled for control over his emotions, Harry stood. His fists were clenched tightly and pressed against his thighs and he was taking deep, noisy breaths. That was expected. Then he smiled. That was when Ron and Hermione went from concern to fear.
"I'm sorry. I know I promised not to get angry, and I'm not angry with you at all," Harry said softly. It was a tone of voice that emerged when he was one step away from destroying a room. "I just need a few minutes. Everything will be fine."
The Weasleys heard the pop of Disapparition, and Harry vanished. They waited, knowing he would go to the room in Grimmauld Place which was warded to provide Remus with a safe place to transform. There he would work off his excess anger, conjuring and destroying anything that came to mind and throwing hexes at the walls. He would return when he was ready to continue.
Hermione barely had time to clean the dishes and tidy up from supper when Harry returned, flushed and panting, but much calmer. He smiled again, but this time it was much less terrifying. Harry sank back into his chair. "So, where were we?"
"Malfoy," Ron said.
"Fudge," added Hermione.
"Fuck," was Harry's concise and accurate summary of the situation, "Wouldn't Lucius Malfoy be the absolute last person considered for this programme?" He nodded gratefully to Ron, who had kindly brought another round of beer. He needed it.
"No, he's a prime candidate actually," Hermione said thoughtfully, "Exonerated in the first war, spent the entirety of the second in Azkaban. Yes, he has the Dark Mark, but there was almost no solid evidence of him committing a crime worse than breaking and entering into the Department of Mysteries." Both boys were nodding along, although all three looked troubled. "Then Voldemort killed his wife and son because of Draco's supposed failure to kill Dumbledore. He has no known loyalty to any Dark forces which remain."
"And he is a pureblood with deep ties to the Wizarding world. There's little flight risk," Harry muttered. "What are we going to do?" he asked, mostly speaking to himself. His fingers absent-mindedly twirled his beer bottle and he stared into and through the glass as if it held all the answers he sought.
Ron and Hermione both shrugged and held their peace though they had discussed it on their own. Through years of experience, the two had discovered that it was best to let Harry work through and discard his own theories. Then, and only then, would Hermione be able to give Harry the answer she had known all along. If she told him before he had run out of his own ideas he would try even harder to come up with alternatives, dismissing the true solution from sheer stubbornness long after he would have accepted it if they had only been patient.
That hard-won knowledge made it even more shocking when the next words out of Harry's mouth were, "Well then, I suppose someone will have to step forward and contest the former Minister's claim, unless we are willing to assassinate either Fudge or Malfoy and save the trouble?" He looked hopeful, but not in the least surprised by Hermione's glare or Ron's look of amused disbelief. "No," he said, sighing, "I thought not."
"There aren't many people who could possibly beat Fudge."
"Are you joking?" Harry retorted to Ron's despairing comment. "Lucius Malfoy is loaded, connected, and gorgeous. They'll be queueing up for miles for a shot at him."
Hermione had fixed Harry with one of her calculating looks. Sometimes he thought he feared them more than he had feared Voldemort. They never boded well for him. "Yes Harry, but none of them have the sort of political clout necessary. Fudge was first. Anyone else who applies is going to have to prove that they are more qualified than he is."
Ron nodded. "And to be honest, fewer will try than you think. Who wants to take responsibility for someone with a reputation like Malfoy's?"
"Who could control him?" Hermione mused. Harry fought the need to squirm beneath her intense gaze. He had the strange feeling that he knew where she was leading. It wasn't as if he hadn't already thought it, discarded it, and thought of it again repeatedly in the last few minutes.
"You think I should do it."
"I'm not the only one."
Ron snorted, making it clear that Hermione didn't mean him.
Harry knocked back the rest of his beer, set the bottle onto the floor and slouched down in his chair. "Well yeah," he said, sighing heavily, "the thought had crossed my mind. But only if we can't find anyone else! I don't want to be stuck with him for the rest of my life!" He had closed his eyes, missing the sceptical glances his friends exchanged.
They didn't say a word about their doubts: nothing about how Harry had just now admitted that he was attracted to Lucius and hadn't said anything about how much he hated him. They kept silent about how obsessed Harry had been with Malfoy's son in school. They didn't mention how Harry had gone on about how handsome Tom Riddle had been, and they were way too smart to mention Harry's constant loneliness or that his relationships with women were few and far between and doomed to failure before they had even begun. Instead, Hermione brought out quill and parchment, and they started their plan of attack, beginning with a very short list of other potential bonding candidates.
~*~
They were almost out of time and ideas. The circles under Hermione's eyes testified to days on end with almost no sleep. She compulsively checked lists of facts over and over even though she must have memorised them long ago. Ron stared at Harry. He was running his hands through his hair every few minutes so hard that Harry feared he was sending himself down the path to premature baldness.
Harry, in contrast, was completely still for once, both mentally and physically. He had settled into a strange, disconnected calm as the idea of being forced into yet another destiny which he did not desire and did not understand swiftly made its way from the realm of the vaguely possible into the nearly inevitable.
All of them - Harry included - were waiting for Harry to lose control, to become angry, to rail against an unwanted life-long commitment to a man he had hated and feared since childhood. It didn't come, and that scared them all. Harry knew that the unnatural stillness wouldn't last. It was the heavy false peace of gathered, black and towering storm clouds. What frightened Harry the most was the knowledge that the longer it lasted, the more devastating the destruction would be when the emotional storm finally broke.
"There's only one more thing for me to try," Harry mused into the dead silence, "It's time to go to Azkaban. Maybe Mr. Malfoy will have ideas that haven't occurred to us." He rubbed his sore and tired eyes before standing. "Maybe I could find a Dementor and 'accidentally' set it on him before the binding ceremony," he muttered as he made his way to the door, "Having his body wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to deal with his personality."
Harry heard Ron's snickers and Hermione's disgusted ranting about the insensitivity of men in general and the two of them in particular as he closed the door quietly behind himself. At least some things would never change.
Pushing aside thoughts of splinching himself due to fatigue, Harry focused on the main guardhouse of Azkaban prison and Disapparated.
~*~
Three hours later, Harry Potter was grateful for his feeling of detachment. It had been strained to the limit by all the paperwork, searches, repeated explanations of the code of conduct for visiting dangerous prisoners, and a few too many expressions of gratitude for Harry's defeat of Voldemort.
He clung to the tattered remnants of calm tightly as he followed the chattering guard who had been assigned to bring him to Lucius Malfoy's cell. If the guy really thought Harry would answer questions from a stranger about his personal life and dating habits after all these years as the Wizarding world's favourite gossip rag fodder, then he was an idiot. Harry did his best to tune out the irritating man and concentrate on the meeting ahead. It was a relief to arrive at his destination despite the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
Harry nodded, thanked his guide as politely as he could manage, and stepped into the cell. Smiling in what he hoped was an apologetic manner at the man who was being all too obvious about his desire to eavesdrop, Harry closed the door firmly in the guard's face.
Immediately, Harry's eyes settled on Lucius Malfoy's form. He was on his cot, huddled in the far corner. His head was bowed and his hair fell in a pale curtain which obscured his face. To Harry's astonishment, Lucius didn't even look up at the sound of someone entering the tiny grey room. If it wasn't for the other man's familiar, though far thinner, frame, Harry would never have recognised him. It was disturbing in a way he couldn't begin to put into words.
Harry took another step inside, peering at the dirty stone walls and meager excuse for furnishings. He shivered and cleared his throat. There was a chill in the air that wasn't just the temperature. Harry could feel the residue of the Dementors. They were no longer guarding the fortress, but their horrid effects still lingered. No wonder Malfoy looked like a ghost of himself.
"Mr. Malfoy?" The unkempt screen of hair shifted and Harry caught sight of one grey eye. Harry was momentarily at a loss. He had come prepared to battle Malfoy's arrogance and disdain and was thrown off balance by this lack of, well, anything. "I need to speak with you about something very important. Would you mind if I conjured a chair?" Lucius gave an apathetic wave of his hand and watched in silence as Harry wandlessly created the chair and took a seat.
It took all of Harry's self-discipline not to fidget. "You must be wondering why I'm here," he started, although Lucius had displayed no signs of curiosity. He explained the new Ministry decree, Fudge's claim, and why it was a bad idea both for Malfoy himself and the whole Wizarding community. "So, I've been trying to find an alternative. I can't imagine that you'd rather die than be bonded," he said. Malfoy grimaced and Harry took that as agreement. Sitting forward slightly and ticking points off on his fingers, Harry outlined what he and his best friends had already done. "Can you think of any other avenues we should pursue? We're running out of time."
For long minutes, Lucius didn't say anything. He rocked back and forth slightly and stared at his hands. Harry was as patient as he could be, but eventually had to accept that there would be no brilliant last minute solution from the source of his problems. He shifted to stand, about to thank the older man and leave, when Malfoy finally spoke. "No one wants me. I'm sorry."
Harry sat back, blinking in shock. This was not the Lucius Malfoy he had known. Not only had Malfoy admitted that he wasn't the centre of the universe and apologised to one Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died-Many-Times-Over, but he didn't even sound like himself. The voice that had once sent shivers down Harry's spine with its smooth, cultured tone and ability to convey so much with the tiniest change of inflection was no more. It had been replaced by a hoarse whisper, cracking with despair. Harry was even more disconcerted than before. He had entered the cell determined to be as calm and polite as he could and keep his hatred of this man under control. Now he was feeling… what? Sympathy? Compassion? Caring? Protectiveness? No. No, he detested Lucius Malfoy. The man was evil, through and through. He didn't deserve Harry's gentler emotions.
Locking his confusion away to be dealt with later, Harry put his last-ditch solution forward. "If you could be bonded to me rather than Fudge, would that be preferable?"
"You don't want me either."
"Well, no. Can you really blame me with the history between us?" Harry asked. He brushed his hair back and sighed. "But I am qualified, unmarried, and would much rather do this than allow Fudge to have complete dominion over you. I would be willing," he paused, voice turning thoughtful, "no, I would insist that we be bonded in a more humane way than the original decree required." He shrugged. It took an effort to put his beliefs on the matter into words. "You may have to essentially become someone's ward either way, but no one deserves to be another person's property."
Malfoy said something very, very quietly. It was so softly spoken that Harry couldn't be sure he had heard correctly, but what he thought the other man said was, "Maybe I deserve whatever I get." For some reason, that self-condemnation brought Harry closer to exploding than anything else in this crazed situation had so far. Harry carefully cleared his mind, positive that a burst of destructive wild magic would not be well-received by the under-trained guards of Azkaban. It was a close call.
When he looked up again, it was to find Lucius rocking and staring at his hands again. A surge of righteous fury spiked up from the pit of Harry's stomach, ruining his efforts to calm himself and breaking through his muffling blanket of surrealism. How dare this Death Eater, someone who had been the cause of so much suffering, act as if he was the one who was injured. It was insupportable!
Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor place for airing the ghosts of their pasts. If all went according to plan, there would be more than enough time in the future. For now it was time to leave before Harry's volatile temper got the better of him.
He stood, turning to look at his conjured armchair. After considering it for a moment, he decided not to banish it. He levitated it to the side and out of the way, then crouched down in front of Malfoy, touching his leg to get his attention. "It's time for me to go."
Lucius nodded silently, eyes cast down, and Harry was struck yet again by the changes in the man.
"I don't know how the hearing is going to be run. You may have little say, or you may have the final decision." His lip curled up at one corner in an expression that was half-grin, half-grimace. Of all people, Harry understood how it felt to have important decisions taken out of his hands. "At least you now know what is happening and what your options will be should the choice be yours."
"Give it some thought," Harry said as he rose, "and we'll see each other in a few days." He knocked on the door and the same guard who had taken him down now released him from the cell.
Harry felt the weight of Lucius Malfoy's eyes on him until the door was closed and warded between them. He missed it, however, when the other man crept from his cot and curled himself into Harry's chair to soak in the lingering warmth.
~*~
There were details to wrap up that filled much of the time between Harry's trip to Azkaban and Lucius Malfoy's hearing before the Wizengamot. Some were necessary, like completing a wide assortment of legal paperwork and procuring and charming a set of bonding rings - just in case. Others, like refurnishing his guest room so that Lucius would have space of his own and buying himself a bigger bed (because there was no way in this God-forsaken world he was going without sex for the rest of his life, even if he did end up married to Lucius-Fucking-Malfoy) didn't really need to be done beforehand. Harry wouldn't have, but hard experience had taught him to believe in his precognitive abilities.
From the start of this little adventure, Harry had felt a sense of the inevitable, and it was growing by leaps and bounds the closer they came to doomsday. Earlier it had been a pressure like a wind blowing constantly against the edge of his mind. Now, twelve hours before the hearing was scheduled to begin, it felt like Apparition: he was being squeezed tightly into a tube and tugged through it at mind-boggling speed. He would bet his last knut that by the same time tomorrow he would be a married man.
Every minute he could spare had been spent with his loved ones, on the assumption that he would have very little free time after the bonding. He would be busy adjusting and helping Lucius adjust. So he had lazed about with Ron and Hermione, and visited and explained everything to the rest of the Weasleys and a few other close friends. Some of the conversations had been tougher than others. Most of his loved ones respected him and his decisions, whether or not they approved. Others accepted his news with much less grace and decorum, but had indeed accepted in the end.
There were two conversations that had been far more difficult for Harry to initiate than all the rest, because Lucius Malfoy had caused the two a great deal of pain on a very personal level. Harry would have given anything to put those two talks off, or avoid them altogether, but he did not have the luxury of time.
It was a nervous Harry Potter who sat down to speak with Dobby the house-elf about his upcoming bonding with the elf's former master, but Harry truly felt that he owed it to the small creature. Dobby was not only a long-time friend, but also the only help he had around the house - paid of course. Luckily, Dobby had taken the news quite well, happy that "his Harry" would have someone now. Dobby had a certain amount of confidence in himself after so many years free, and also knew that Harry would always protect him. He had promised to tell Harry right away if there were any difficulties with Lucius, and that had been that. The excitable elf had hugged Harry around the knees before dashing off to plot a wonderful meal with all of "Master Lucius and Harry Potter sir's" favourite foods to welcome them home, leaving a bemused- but relieved- Harry behind.
His apprehension about Dobby had been misplaced; unfortunately, his fears about speaking with Ginny Weasley were well-founded. After leaving messages for her at several places and not hearing back, Harry had finally tracked her down in person at a nightclub.
As usual, the word had spread quickly that Harry Potter was there and it hadn't taken long for it to get around to Ginny. He watched from a corner booth as she tilted her head, listening as a gossiping acquaintance yelled the news into her ear. Immediately, Ginny's cinnamon-brown eyes swept the edges of the room for him. She smiled at her friend and yelled something back with a vague wave in Harry's direction and then made her way toward him.
Harry already had a drink waiting for her when she slid onto the padded bench across the table from him. He threw a volley of Silencing and other privacy charms up as she downed half of it in one gulp. "What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" she asked him quite seriously, brushing her sweaty hair behind her ears.
"Looking for you."
"Why?"
He sighed, taking in her dilated pupils and the distinctive smell that spoke of a night's heavy recreational potion use. "I need to talk to you about something really important, but you don't seem to be in any shape-"
"I'm fine! Why do you always have to sound like my mother?"
"Well obviously not because we both care and worry about you," he said. It was meant to be sarcastic, but came out sounding sad instead.
"Oh, for fuck's sake! After everything that happened, I want to have a little fun! Not all of us can be as responsible and dedicated as the great-"
Harry held his hands up in supplication. "I know, I know. We've been through this a thousand times. You aren't ready to settle down."
"Damn right, I'm not. I deserve my freedom."
"Look, I don't understand, but it isn't my business anymore. Despite the teary interviews you give about how much you still love me, we both want different things." He shrugged and took a sip from his own glass. "That's why we never got back together, right?"
"That doesn't mean I don't love you, Harry."
He smiled. "I know, but it means you don't love me the way I need to be loved. You want to party. I want a family."
"For now. The war was horrible. Is it wrong to want to be a kid for a while now that I can?"
"No, not necessarily wrong. We're simply different."
"It won't be forever, Harry. We might still have a chance someday, if you're willing to wait."
"Actually," Harry said after a deep breath, "that's why I'm here." He looked out over the dancing crowd to avoid her gaze, squirming in his seat. "I think I'm going to be bonded tomorrow."
Ginny gaped at him. "You think? But you aren't even seeing anyone, are you?" Harry shook his head and launched into the events of the last week. He had told the story so many times now that he was fairly sure he could do it in his sleep. As he spoke, he watched Ginny trying to take it all in. He had hoped that she would take it as philosophically as she had taken their break-up at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, but her Weasley temper won instead.
Leaping to her feet, Ginny threw her glass against the wall. It shattered outside their little protected nook, gathering the attention of everyone near them. They couldn't hear what she was saying, but they could see her red, angry face and her hands whizzing through the air as she gave the Savior of the Wizarding world a good telling-off. Harry wasn't protected by Silencing charms. He was getting every word, every shriek, at full volume.
"Harry James Potter! That man tried to kill me. Merlin alone knows how many people he actually has murdered! He's a Death Eater!"
It continued, on and on. Ginny barely paused for breath and never long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. There wasn't much else he could do but ride the flood out patiently. She would have to stop someday…
Harry had forgotten that Ginny was the daughter of Molly Weasley, the woman who held the record for the longest and loudest rants in all of Britain. He kept quiet and let her work it out until she stopped, panting, eyes narrowed, and said, "I'll kill him," in a quietly deadly voice.
"No you won't, Ginny."
"Why the hell not?"
"I am making a vow to protect him, to take care of him for the rest of our lives. I may hate him, but he is going to be my bond-mate. My husband."
"It would kill you if I killed him," Ginny said in a resigned voice. Harry nodded. They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their own inner worlds. "Would you at least fuck me, Harry?"
Harry was struck dumb. Blinking into Ginny's wide and earnest stare, he hunted for something, anything, to say in response. All words, all forms of response, had fled in the wake of Ginny's request.
"Don't I deserve that, Harry? Just one night before he gets you forever?"
Within the confines of his mind, which had stayed disconnected from his mouth, Harry had been trying to think of a way to let Ginny down gently. His noble thoughts were swept away by his ex-girlfriend's self-absorption. "Deserve? How does one go about earning something like that? Do tell!"
Ginny took her turn at sputtering wordlessly.
"You seem to think you are entitled to a great deal. You deserve to run around shagging anyone you feel like while stringing me along. You're entitled to take drugs and piss your life away." He ignored her outraged gasps, continuing, "You are entitled to frighten your parents and everyone who cares about you with your horrible attitude! You deserve to have no responsibilities and have fun because you fought a war while conveniently forgetting that the rest of us fought that war too and we still have to act like adults once in a while."
Tears were shimmering in Ginny's eyes, but Harry was on a roll. He had been holding this back for a long time. "And now you deserve my virginity? You know how I feel about marriage and family, Ginny. I know that you believe me old-fashioned and silly, but don't I have the right to pledge my body completely to the person I marry?"
"But Harry," Ginny was sniffling now. It was not attractive. "You don't love Malfoy!"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately attempting to stave off a mounting headache. He counted to twenty, then set about the arduous task of clearing his mind and calming his temper. When he thought he had reined it in, he looked up and came face to face with a sad, lost-looking Ginny.
He got up and slid around the table, taking his friend into his arms and rocking her gently. "It isn't about loving Lucius, Ginny. I may never love him and I can't even imagine that he could ever love me." Not having a handkerchief with him, he grabbed a napkin to dab away the tears that were now rolling slowly down her cheeks. "It's not about whether you deserve it or whether he does. It's about my values, about whether or not I can bear to look at myself in the mirror."
Pulling away just far enough to look Ginny in the eye, Harry paused. He smoothed her long red hair back, away from her beautiful face. "Can you try to understand that for me?"
"I'll try. I promise."
"Thanks, love. That's all I could hope for," Harry said, pulling Ginny back into his arms and holding her close while she sobbed quietly.
"What am I doing, Harry?" Ginny muttered into Harry's chest, clinging to him like the child she still was in so many ways.
"Dealing with everything as best you can, I suspect."
"And doing a good job of bollocksing it up."
"You'll get it sorted, and I'll be here for you. Your whole family will be with you every step of the way."
"Are we still family then?"
"Always, Ginny. Always."
~*~
Harry was not as rested as he would have hoped to be the next morning. For long hours he had stayed with Ginny, waiting for the potions she had taken to work their way out of her system before taking her to the Burrow. He had remained long enough to see her safely into the arms of her parents before he Apparated home and collapsed into his new bed for a few hours of restless sleep.
Luckily, Harry was good at functioning that way; he had a lot of practice. By the time he had gone through his morning exercise routine, showered and forced himself to eat a light breakfast, there were no outer signs of the difficult night he had. He was grateful for that at least.
Over time, Harry had learned that appearances were dreadfully important, and that people often judged by them. In today's battle, Fudge was going to have the advantage of being the former Minister for Magic, with the decades of political maneuvering and alliances that entailed. In order to beat him, Harry would have to be perfect in every way. That included looking every inch the wealthy and powerful Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.
To that end, Harry dressed very carefully and conservatively. He wore dark green robes over a black under-robe. There was nothing fancy about them, but they were perfectly tailored and of the finest materials. Over the top of that, he wore a matching black cloak bearing the Potter and Black family crests and edged with the ribbon of office which he was entitled to as a member of the Minister's cabinet. It billowed behind him when he walked in a way that would impress even Severus Snape. Black dragonhide boots on his feet and his Order of Merlin, first class, around his neck completed the outfit.
His wand was strapped into the holster on his forearm and he had all the paperwork he needed in his black dragonhide satchel, along with the Invisibility Cloak he carried everywhere and a set of clothing for Lucius. Harry was as ready as he could possibly be.
Dobby seemed to agree. "Harry Potter looks very handsome today, sir. You is easily winning Master Lucius!"
Harry smiled at the house-elf, taking courage from his enthusiastic praise. "Thanks, Dobby. I hope you're right." Harry crouched down and hugged his small friend. "With any luck, I will be back soon. Married." He stood and waved one last time before he vanished, leaving only a soft pop of displaced air behind.
"Good luck be with you, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered "You truly is a great, great wizard."
~*~
It was obvious by the bedlam in the Ministry atrium that the story of Lucius Malfoy's hearing had been leaked to the press. As soon as Harry had stepped out of the telephone box which disguised the Ministry entrance, reporters had swarmed over him. They were all vying for his attention with shouted questions which Harry had no intention of answering.
Hiding a smirk, Harry cast a wandless and wordless charm that repelled everyone from his personal space. That done, it was much easier to ignore the verbal barrage and make his way to the security desk. Eric Munch, the guard on duty, shot him a sympathetic look as Harry flicked his wand from its holster and handed it over for registration.
Harry grinned in response and shrugged. "It's going to be one of those days." He pushed his wand back into place when it was returned to him. After receiving the guard's whispered good wishes, Harry nodded to him and turned. He plastered a look of relaxed confidence onto his face and strode toward the lifts, using his cloak to best effect. The cameras of the Wizarding press clicked away around him and he knew the photo would grace the front of the next Daily Prophet.
Thanks to his handy little charm, Harry had the lift to himself and the ride to level nine and walk down the stairs to the courtroom was peaceful. By the time he stepped through the heavy doors of the room and found a seat, he had his thoughts collected and was ready to make his appeal. He only wished that he wasn't the one to speak first. Being able to hear and respond to Harry's statements would only serve to provide another advantage to Fudge, but that was his right as the first petitioner. Harry would just have to do his best.
After a rather pleasant period in which Harry exchanged greetings or acknowledging nods with familiar faces and adeptly avoided both Fudge and the few reporters who had been allowed in the room, the Wizengamot filed in. A few minor points of business were addressed and then the signal was given to have Lucius Malfoy brought forward.
Harry watched in concern as the once-proud man stumbled in between two Azkaban guards. His gaze never once lifted from the floor in front of him and he showed no signs of even noticing the people around him. And if Harry wasn't mistaken, there was the shadow of a bruise across one gaunt cheekbone which hadn't been there just a couple days ago during their visit, and which hadn't had time to heal completely, even with magic.
A wave of protective feelings washed over Harry, confusing and angering him. There was no reason for him to feel bad for this man who had been so cruel and arrogant, but he did. The cycle was reinforced by the murmur of approval and smirks at Malfoy's expense which followed his slow progress toward the centre of the room. Harry wanted to scream at them all to stop behaving like a pack of rabid hyenas, but had to keep himself under control. If he let his anger and disgust get the better of him now he would lose his case before he had even begun. Even knowing that, Harry had to bite down hard on his bottom lip when the guards manhandled Malfoy into the prisoner's chair and cast the charm chaining him into it. Sometimes the Wizarding world seemed completely barbaric and Harry had to wonder to himself whether it might not have been better to let Voldemort destroy the whole thing.
The proceedings began then in earnest, so Harry pulled himself from his destructive thoughts and paid attention. After only a few minutes of introductory remarks summarising the decree and reminding the Wizengamot that this hearing was being conducted under the terms of the original rather than the amended version, Harry was called forward.
Harry stood beside Lucius Malfoy's chair, green eyes sweeping the assemblage. Several of his friends and surrogate family were in attendance, bolstering his flagging pre-speech nerves. A discreet thumbs up from Hermione let him know that he looked good, making it easier for him to stand tall and meet the eyes of some of the most powerful wizards and witches in the world as he began.
"Good morning, Minister Scrimgeour," he started, with nod of his head to the man presiding over the day's session, "and to you, elders and fellow members of the Wizengamot." Harry bowed gracefully and with just enough deference to each section of the stands.
"I stand before you today, of my own free will, to plead for the honour of being bound to Lucius Malfoy." Harry paused as a murmur ran through the crowd. Apparently, they did not see how being bound to a disgraced wizard could be an honour for their favourite hero. The room quieted again as everyone waited for Harry's next surprise. He did not intend to disappoint them.
"Over the course of the last two wars, we have gotten closer and closer to losing something vital: the large part of our Wizarding heritage that is bound into the blood and traditions of our oldest pureblood families." A sip of water refreshed Harry's dry throat as he waited out another wave of sound. "Yes, I have fought and will continue to fight for the rights of the Muggleborn and those of mixed blood within our community," he said, breaking into the buzz of noise and catching everyone's attention again, "but while I am considered a half-blood myself, I am also proud to be a Potter and the sole heir to the Black estate through my late godfather."
Harry met the eyes of several people throughout the chamber, gauging the reactions to his speech so far. At the moment there was a fairly even mix, which is what he had predicted. "Many pureblood families, including the Malfoys, made poor choices over the last few decades in an effort to protect their way of life. And for that, some believe that it would be better if their lines were allowed to die out." He looked pointedly at several extremists who equated purity of blood with prejudice and evil.
"But I believe a compromise can be reached. If those old families die, a rich tradition and a wealth of knowledge dies with them. I hope that instead they can learn to understand that change isn't necessarily a bad thing and make the adjustments needed to flourish once again in a more modern, more progressive world."
Harry took another sip of water, unused to speaking so extensively before an audience. A quick glance at Hermione as he returned his glass to the table showed her nodding to him in encouragement.
"That need for adaptation and compromise is why I wish to be bonded to Mr. Malfoy in particular." He looked down at the bowed blond head, addressing his words as much to him as to the Wizengamot. "Lucius Malfoy, despite his chequered past, is a brilliant and powerful man," he said softly, but with complete conviction, "and I believe that the two of us together could lead by example. We could bring forth a new age of balance: a world in which both tradition and innovation would be respected. Cherished."
A tap of his wand against the side of his satchel distributed copies of Harry's financial statement and curriculum vitae to the voting members of the day's Wizengamot session and gently placed a set of the same papers into the lap of Lucius Malfoy so that he could get an idea of what he might be getting into. "I've told you why I wish for this bond. Now I will tell you why you should choose it as well."
Harry smiled. "As you all know, I started my personal crusade against the Dark Arts at a fairly young age." Return smiles and laughter greeted his understatement. "So you also know that I will have no tolerance for their practice in my home. I have lost too much to the Dark to risk any more losses. In the past I have fought to the death to protect the Wizarding world from the Dark, and I will continue to do so if needed. I am also very wealthy in my own right, and would not be susceptible to bribery.
"I am young, physically and magically strong, and healthy, with a terrific network of support-" a wink to his friends "-to help me deal with the difficulties of adjusting to what would essentially be an arranged marriage to a man with whom I have not always gotten along." Harry chuckled as his words were met with more laughter.
"As much as it is necessary to protect the world from any temptation Lucius Malfoy might have to return to the Dark Arts, I would like to protect and care for him as well. To that end, I request to be bonded with Mr. Malfoy under the terms of the amended decree so that he would be my partner and my husband, rather than my virtual slave."
Drained, Harry took one last inventory of the expressions of his audience. At the moment, it looked hopeful for him. With a final bow, he thanked the Wizengamot for their consideration and returned to his seat. As he walked away, he saw Lucius eyeing him from beneath the veil of his eyelashes and flashed the man a smile of encouragement. No matter what happened now, Harry was content that he had given this his all.
~*~
The wait was killing Harry. It was as simple as that. The arguments were finally complete and the Wizengamot had cleared the courtroom to discuss the petitions. Hermione, sensing that Harry was about to burst from the combination of anticipation and impatience, had dragged him out to the corridor to walk off some of his tension. Now he was pacing back and forth, protected by a phalanx of Weasleys and Hermione's excellent privacy spells.
"Fudge really wasn't prepared, was he?" Hermione asked her best friend.
"The idiot is still underestimating me. He obviously wasn't expecting serious competition."
"Don't worry, Harry. There's no way you can lose. His argument about keeping Malfoy 'secured' while easing the burden on Azkaban was weak compared to your case!"
Harry stopped, slumping against the wall and closing his eyes. "It's not always about silly things like intelligence and common sense though, Hermione. You know that. It's all a big popularity contest."
There was nothing she could say to that, so Hermione simply took her friend's hand and lent him some of her faith. Distraction was what he needed anyway. "What in the world did you say to Ginny last night?"
"Just set out a few long overdue truths, a bit more harshly than I meant to really. Why?"
"Molly said that she apologised for causing so much worry and wants to get help. They're going to set up an appointment for her with a therapist as soon as this," she said, waving toward the courtroom's wooden doors, "is finished."
The corners of Harry's mouth quirked up. It was the closest he could come to a smile while still wondering whether he would be a married man before the end of the day. "Good. I hope she can finally move on."
Hermione cocked her head to the side. "From the war or from you?"
That got a humourless chuckle. "Both. Though she was never as attached to me as she thought she was."
Just as Hermione opened her mouth to respond, the doors reopened and a witch from Wizengamot Support Services ushered everyone back into the chamber.
Harry's heart stopped. After a few missing beats it gave a mighty thud and raced as if trying to make up for that lost time. Hermione squeezed his hand and they walked into the huge room together.
"It's going to be fine, Harry."
He nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. After one more comforting hand squeeze, Hermione left him at his place to wait.
Harry sat quietly, putting all of his concentration into forcing himself not to fidget. It was an absorbing exercise, allowing Harry to ignore the calculating looks and whispers he could feel as clearly as actual physical touch. It also kept him from panicking at the sight of the somber expressions on the faces of the Wizengamot members as they filed onto the benches. And most thankfully of all, it kept him from doing something silly like running up to Lucius Malfoy and either hugging or hitting him as he was led back into the room, feet shuffling across the stone floor and his long, lank hair hiding his eyes.
Minister Scrimgeour quickly brought the session back to order. As the babble of the audience chamber died, the man's gaze flicked over the three main participants in the day's little drama. Cornelius Fudge's chest was puffed out and he smiled smugly. Lucius Malfoy was still staring at, or rather through, the floor at something only he could see. Harry was staring back at Scrimgeour, searching for some sign of what the decision would be.
The Minister stood, addressing the assemblage in his growl of a voice. "We have reached a decision. It was not easy, and it was by no means unanimous." His yellowish eyes locked onto Malfoy. "Lucius Malfoy, it is the judgment of this body that you shall be bound into the custody and care of one Harry James Potter." A roar broke out. It faded, but was not silenced by his quelling gesture. "This shall take place in one hour's time in the office of the Chief Warlock."
~*~
Continued in Part 2