Lord of Shadows Arc, Book One: Prince of Darkness

So, there was this frenchman, the type that makes all other Frenchmen say \"Sacre Bleu! You are the reason we have such a horrible reputation!\"
He bough the shop where I worked and didn\'t keep anyone on. So I\'ve been a trifle distracted, desperately searching for jobs. No luck yet, but I was getting impatient myself, waiting for the next chapter to come out.

Thanks for all the great reviews!
DEDMUN--> Uh, glad you like it, now you\'ve finally read it. I know I didn\'t update soon enough, but this is the lesson: Nag Nag Nag!!!
THRNBROOKE--> I\'m posting chapter 15. . . now. I hope you continue to enjoy ^_^
BITCHOFDARKNESS-->you thought that chapter was great? wow, I thought it was the most boring. . . well, if I can write boring that well, should bode well for the rest of the story, ne?
JITKAJAYLOR--> ^_^ Aren\'t the angels the best?! I had to have Metatron as Dogma!Metatron, cuz that version was spot-on! Don\'t know as much Norse mythology myself, maybe you could help out? ^_^
ANON--> Ah, one of the most famous writers of the medieval period has reviews my work. Excellent! As for hte confrontation with Dudley, it\'s right there in the chapter. Remus \"accidentaly\" punches Piers a few times, that scene? it\'s all there. . .
WRAITH--> Well, I\'m updating on Solstice. Not soon enough for even me, but I hope it\'s worth it.


Everyone, remember I have a yahoo list for updates a few days sooner, and we\'ve got some reader interation stuff going on too, so check it out!
and now, chapter 15, In the Bleak Midwinter.


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The Notts ought to have known better. I know for a fact that they are almost as pagan as my family. There was no excuse for what was done to the Lady-Cave at Godric\'s Hollow. When the stasis wards were taken down, we learned that the Man-Grove had been completely destroyed, but in a way, such complete destruction was more sterile, and even more respectful. But the Cave. . .

My father and mother had taught me that such acts, even if performed against gods that were not one\'s own, would turn all the gods against you. Deeds such as that made those places breeding grounds for all the more physical manifestations of despair and rage.

Perhaps Reverend Dunnwich knew that intuitively. She was the first decent Muggle I\'d ever met, and it didn\'t take long to realise that just because she wasn\'t magical, didn\'t mean she wasn\'t as canny as they come. It was her steadfast, loving care that healed the cave in our absence. True, she couldn\'t re-sanctify it completely, but she cleansed it pretty damn well, and healed it, and even partly re-sanctified it. Even though she called herself a Christian, even though she had little knowledge of our ways, and no magic of her own.

Which makes me think that maybe our definitions of magic are too narrow. Because weren\'t her prayers a type of magic? Wasn\'t her love and attention magic? How else could someone, with so little relevant knowledge, do so much to heal the land? There are some magics, I think, that are far more subtle and universal than those we have been taught about in school. Magics far more powerful than any Unforgivable. Magics by the names of Love, Compassion, Honour, and Respect. And these things depend not on genetics, or schooling, but on the human heart. The thing all people have in common.

From: The Prodigal Dragon

*********************************

Harry and Draco walked out of Gringotts, followed closely by Professors Lupin and McGonagall. Everything in the vaults had been in order, and everyone had been very keen on seeing the contents of Black Vault Number Seven, which Sirius had entrusted to Draco. To their very great interest, the vault seemed to contain a rather large collection of devises usually used in the Dark Arts-- things that Draco above all would best be able to identify. After a discerning look through, the young Malfoy had very carefully closed the vault door again and took extra care in seeing that the locks were all correctly set.

It had been a trying morning for both Harry and Lupin, each having to sort through the belongings of those much loved, or never known. But they\'d made their way through, and while none of them knew exactly what they were going to do with the contents of the vaults yet, at least they knew they were in proper order.

\"Harry,\" Draco said, slightly worried, \"are you sure you want to look at the estates today? We could do it next weekend if you wanted. . .\"

Harry shook his head, smiling faintly at his husband\'s concern. \"Thank you Draco, but no, I\'d rather get all this over with. We know the Black estates are all in order, so we don\'t actually have to visit them today. We\'ll only be going to Godric\'s Hollow. . . or what\'s left of it, anyway.\"

\"Where exactly is Godric\'s Hollow?\" Draco asked, curiosity overpowering concern for a brief moment.

Harry\'s face screwed up as he thought.

\"It\'s somewhere in the Mynydd Preseli. Other than that, I\'m not really sure. I\'ve never been to Wales . . .\"

\"I think that\'s the area where they mined the stone for Stonehenge, bluestone, they call it.\" Draco supplied.

\"Hm. . .\" Harry absorbed this little bit of information and filed it away. They reached the twins\' shop and stepped in, Lupin and McGonagall still behind. They waved hello to the twins, but didn\'t stop-- both young men were hungry and anxious to get back to luncheon in the Great Hall.

Lunch was a quiet affair, as the rest of the students wouldn\'t return until the next day. Dumbledore quietly inquired after their morning visits, then steered the conversation to lighter subjects once he was sure they were satisfied with the morning\'s work

When the meal was over, Lupin, McGonagall, Harry and Draco bundled up once more, wearing even thicker clothes in preparation for the added chill of being nearer to the coast. Lupin Flooed through first, then McGonagall, and then the two young men.

They arrived into a sitting room, a simple but cosy affair decorated in warm tones of red, russet and gold.

\"I thought Godric\'s Hollow was left in ruins. . .\" Draco said, perplexed.

\"It was,\" Lupin replied. \"This isn\'t Godric\'s Hollow. . . well, it\'s part of the overall estate, but it\'s not the main building. This is the parsonage, it\'s been on the property for generations. . . Reverend Dunnwich should be around somewhere, I sent a message telling her we were dropping by . . .\"

Harry inspected the décor a bit more closely.

\"Reverend Dunnwich is a Muggle? Why . . .how is the Floo connected?\"

\"Yes,\" said a gentle voice from the hallway. \"I am a Muggle, but my sister is a very fine witch, works at St. Mungo\'s now. . .\"

Harry turned to see a middle-aged woman walk into the room, her grey hair braided loosely down her back.

\"Remus Lupin,\" she said warmly. \"It\'s been too long since I last saw you. . .\" They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek before she turned back to Harry.

\"And you must be Lily and James\' boy. . . you look just like your mother, Harry.\"

He was surprised, the say the least.

\"Most people say I favour my father.\"

The Reverend nodded.

\"That\'s true too, your face is definitely his. . .but your eyes are hers, as is the way you stand and look at people. Those things are seventy-five percent Lily-- with the other twenty-five being pure Harry, I would suspect.

\"But how rude of me, Harry. I am Selena Dunnwich, and I take care of the parsonage here on your family\'s estate.\" She held out her hand, which Harry shook firmly.

\"It\'s a pleasure to meet you, Reverend,\" he replied. \"You already know Professor Lupin, but let me introduce you to Professor Minerva McGonagall and my husband, Draco Malfoy.\"

Reverend Dunnwich had amiably shaken McGonagall\'s hand, but her eyes widened when Draco was introduced.

\"Why, surely the two of you are rather young for such an arrangement. . .\" she said while shaking his hand.

\"There were extenuating circumstances, Madam, the sort of thing that only happens to wayward teenaged wizards,\" Draco grinned, bringing his charm out to play. \"But even so, I think the two of us are very happy with the results.\"

She looked back to Harry when Draco said this, and the other boy\'s gentle smile confirmed what had been said.

\"Well then, so long as everyone concerned is happy. Now, Remus tells me that you\'ve come to inspect the property?\"

Harry nodded. \"I officially inherited it yesterday, so we wanted to see if everything was in order or not.\"

The Reverend\'s face grew troubled.

\"Well, that depends on how you define \'order.\' Nothing-- or rather, very little, has been changed since that night, but they did a lot of damage, those people. Would you like me to show you around?\"

\"If you would please.\"

Reverend Dunnwich took them out into the cold, and they were all suddenly glad for the extra layers they\'d put on earlier. There was a good six inches of snow blanketing the ground, but they were fortunate that there was no breeze to make things even colder. Their guide seemed to be following a set path, though no one could see it. After tromping over a few hills, they crested a last rise and there, in the next valley, were the unmistakable ruins of Godric\'s Hollow. It had once been a large house, not quite the size of Malfoy Manor, but still a respectable affair, with several floors and wings and extensive gardens.

\"My sister says there\'s a stasis spell over the ruins, which is why no snow touches it, nor ivy or other weeds.\" Reverend Dunnwich walked up to the locked gate. \"I have the blueprints for the building in my files, if you\'d like a look.\"

Harry nodded. He could feel the spell surrounding the place, and was assured that no one had disturbed it since it had been set all those many years ago.

\"You mentioned that a few things had been changed. I gather those things are not within the spell.\"

The Reverend looked troubled again. \"Aye. I\'ll take you. . .\" She said nothing more as she led the little party around the borders of the manor proper. Across another two acres of snowy moor they tramped, coming at last to a cave hidden at the base of a hill.

\"Those people who did all that, who killed your parents and pulled the house down . . . they didn\'t miss this place either, but I couldn\'t leave it after what they\'d done.\"

Lupin and McGonagall pulled up short. \"We\'ll wait out here, Harry,\" McGonagall said. \"Such places are only for family members, even if the protective barriers are long since destroyed.\"

Harry nodded. What is this place? He asked Draco.

It\'s a Lady-Cave, was the reply. But it feels. . .weird. Not bad, so much, as . . . different. . .

Their guide entered first, pulling out a torch and ducking under the hanging stones at the entrance, Harry and Draco following behind, the latter\'s boots scuffing on something on the ground.

\"What\'s this?\" he asked, bending down and picking up a wooden shoe-box.

\"That\'s part of what changed. Those people did some horrible things, things I wasn\'t sure I could undo without being cursed or some such thing. But it wasn\'t right to just leave them. . . I wasn\'t really sure what to do. I hope I didn\'t just make things worse. . .\"

Draco exchanged a glance with Harry, then knelt down, and opened the box. There were three bundles wrapped in white, red and black silk. A powerful feeling of violence and tears wafted out of the box, along with the faint scent of roses. I think I know what these are, Harry.

Draco lifted out the white-wrapped bundle, and carefully lifted the silk away, gasping as he saw what lay within.

\"Those fucking bastards! They, they, they have no excuse for this!\"

Harry nodded as he looked over Draco\'s shoulder. Held gently in the blonde\'s hands was a statue of a young girl, dressed in a white frock and decked with roses, a knife thrust into her torso from between her legs. And as the Reverend had feared, there was indeed a curse on the blade, but it was nothing Draco couldn\'t handle.

He quickly muttered the counter curse then grasped the hilt of the knife in one hand, and pulled.

\"Feh!\" He glanced at the crest on the blade as it pulled free. \"That\'s the Nott family crest.\" He placed the blade on the box lid, leaving the statue nestled in the silk, and reached forward for the bundle of red.

He snarled as a statue of a pregnant woman was revealed, her full belly and breasts cleanly sliced off from the rest of her body. There was not knife with this one, so Draco simply wrapped her back up and placed her next to the bundle with the young girl. Last was the bundle of black silk, and Draco carefully unwrapped this as well, to reveal an old woman, her face wrinkled with time. This statue bore slashes and crudities carved into her body, but again no knife.

Draco drew a shuddering sigh as he placed her down. \"I think we can assume it was Nott who was responsible for this,\" he snarled. \"Harry, we\'re going to have to take care of these.\"

Harry nodded, speechless.

Draco stood and addressed their guide. \"Where were these statues found?\" he asked.

\"Farther back,\" she replied. \"I\'ll show you.\"

The small party walked deeper into the cave. There, into the back wall, an altar had been carved out of the living stone, and Draco was surprised to see that there were newer statues occupying the niches where the old ones would have been.

Reverend Dunnwich spoke into the silence. \"When I removed the others, it felt . . . empty and wrong for the altar to be empty, so I replaced them with some of my own. I hope you don\'t mind.\"

\"Who are they?\" Draco asked, for none of them were images he recognised.

Encouraged by his curiosity, she pointed to the one on the left, wrapped in armour.

\"That\'s Jeanne d \'Arc, the Maid of Orleans, I got her at a Catholic bookstore over in Dublin. Next to her is a statue that I found one of the store rooms of the church connected to the parsonage. I think it\'s Mary Magdalene, seeing as she\'s got that long, lustrous hair and is dressed in red, but I\'ve never seen another where she\'s pregnant. And this one, on the right, is Our Lady, Mother of Sorrows, which I was given as a gift by a nun in France.\"

\"Hm,\" Draco said, fascinated. \"That statue of Magdalene has the same eye-colour as you have, Harry. Very pretty.\"

Harry blushed at this as Draco snickered.

\"That\'s not all you did though, is it?\" the latter asked the Reverend, sober now.

Her eyes grew wide. \"No, you\'re right, it isn\'t. When they had gone, they\'d also left behind a real feeling of malevolence, something I didn\'t think should just sit around and fester, awaiting the unwary. So, I went to the coast and got several gallons of seawater, blessed them, and then washed the entire insides of the entire cave. It felt a lot cleaner after I\'d done so. . . and then every spring, I try to bring some flowers by as well. . .\"

Draco smirked.

\"And you call yourself a Christian. . .\" He reached out, fingering the white collar at her neck. \"Tell me, how it is that a vicar knows so much about the Old Ways?\"

She actually blushed.

\"I read Christian Theology at Oxford, but I wanted to broaden my mind, so I ended up doing a lot of research into the old traditions of the island. My sister helped me out, sending me whatever she could find from your side of the nation. . . So when the time came, I remembered a bit of what I\'d read and tried to do the respectful thing, even if it was a bit outside of my own tradition. . .\"

Draco chuckled. \"You did surprisingly well, for a Muggle who hasn\'t been raised in those ways. What sort of prayers did you use when scrubbing?\"

\"Well, my mother was Catholic-- it was a big scandal on both sides of the family, as father was Anglican-- but she had a huge devotion to Mary and passed a bit of that on to us. So I used things like the Hail Mary, Hail Holy Queen, the Angelus, things of that nature. . .\"

Draco nodded. \"That would explain a lot. . . For what was done here, I would have expected a much worse feeling. As it is, there\'s now just the memory of violence, and no lingering ill effects.\"

\"Thank you.\" Harry spoke for the first time since entering the cave. \"We\'ll have some work to do of our own, but it looks like the place has been well cared for in my-- our absence. Draco, what can we do for the old statues?\"

The blond took his hand. \"We need to take them outside, wash them in some snow, and then burn them and bury the ashes under or as near to the altar as possible. And we should do that before we leave today, since we won\'t be back until at least summer.\"

Harry agreed, and together they walked back to the cave entrance. Harry picked up the box of statues, and Draco picked up the discarded knife. They squinted as they emerged back into the sunlight, their eyes nearly blinded by the glittering snow. Draco handed the knife to Lupin.

\"Professor, this was cursed, could you make sure there\'s no other nastiness lingering about it?\"

\"Of course,\" the older man replied, taking it gingerly.

Harry walked to the side of the path and knelt in the snow, placing the box gently at his side. Draco came to kneel by him, bringing Professor McGonagall with him. Together, they opened the box, and laid the silk-wrapped bundles out side by side in the snow. One by one, each of the small statues was unwrapped, washed in snow, then carefully levitated and burned with spell-fire, the ashes caught in the silk wrappings and tied into small bundles. McGonagall then expertly transfigured two stones into spades and handed them to the young men, who took them back into the cave with the box of ash bundles, their fingers already red and raw from the cold. They came back out ten minutes later, sombre and relieved, chafing their hands together to keep the circulation going. Quietly, the party made its way back to the parsonage. Seeing the young men\'s need for warmth, the Reverend led them to the church, which sheltered all from wind and cold.

\"This is the church that the parsonage is part of,\" she said when all had entered. \"We think it\'s almost a thousand years old, give or take a couple of decades.\"

Harry and Draco looked around at the ancient stone walls, set in the unusual-for-the-time shape of a circle, rather than the more common cross formation.

Draco\'s eyes narrowed.

\"This is an odd form for a church of that age,\" he said, looking through windows cut to look like equal armed crosses. Harry stopped his inspection of the altar stone in the centre.

\"That\'s true,\" he muttered. \"Altars were never placed in the centre like this one. . .\"

\"Except when they were built by the Templars,\" Dunnwich replied. \"They were a canny lot, did quite a few unorthodox things in their day. . .\"

\"And this is where you found that one statue?\" Harry felt something niggling at the corner of his mind, but he couldn\'t quite grasp it.

She nodded. \"I suppose I shouldn\'t have been that surprised, what with those centuries old rumours and all.\"

\"You\'ve heard those?\" Draco sounded surprised.

\"My son, everyone has heard or read of those rumours if they even bother to look. . .\"

They spent the rest of the afternoon drinking tea and pouring over the blue prints for the main house. After consulting with McGonagall, Harry had the name of a good magical contractor to contact to have work started on rebuilding-- after all, Harry and Draco would need someplace to live the next summer, and their previous residences on both sides were out of the question. Finally, after much discussion and planning, the party Flooed back to Hogwarts, weary but satisfied that at least some parts of the world were still functioning properly.

* * *

\"Wait, tell me again, why are we doing this?\" Harry scowled at his soaking fingers.

Draco sighed for what he was sure was the millionth time.

\"Because, Harry, you are now a gentleman of property. People pay rent to you, and the only reason you\'re not aristocracy is for the same reason as me-- your family lost all its titles with Cromwell, and they were never given them back. But even so, as of two days ago, you are now one of the richest, and therefore most influential, people in Britain. It\'s time you showed you know what you\'re worth, so people like Fudge will finally stop trying to make you their puppet.\"

\"A little too late for that.\"

\"Harry, Harry, Harry.\" Draco took out one of Harry\'s hands and started rubbing lotion into it. \"Think of it this way, love. From the instant you got that scar and lost your parents, you were destined to be used by somebody. Dumbledore knew that, which is why he sent you away until you were old enough for school. If he hadn\'t, Fudge would have gotten hold of you, and he would have used you for all these many years. You would have been just as spoiled as me, would have had your face plastered all over posters and Chocolate Frog cards, and for what? To be a spoiled, dried-up, soulless has-been by the time you were eleven. At least Dumbledore prevented that. . . and he has kept you safe from the Minister while you\'ve been here, despite the efforts of idiotic Defence teachers. I can\'t believe I\'m defending Dumbledore, of all things. . . I think falling in love with you have completely addled my wits.\"

Draco picked up a charmed file and set it to working on Harry\'s nails.

\"Until now, Harry, you\'ve been able to be the lost little boy, the orphan trying to make his way with only the old man to guide you. But that can\'t work anymore-- you lead a Grand Coven, for Merlin\'s sake! And now, you\'ve become a proper gentleman. But they-- the Minister, his cronies and others-- won\'t see that unless you make them. And the key to that is in looking and behaving the part.\"

\"And getting my nails done like a girl is the key to that?\" Harry\'s scowl had softened slightly.

\"No, Harry, not like a girl.\" Draco rolled his eyes. \"We won\'t lacquer them up or anything like that. We\'re just filing and shaping them to be presentable, so that when you shake someone\'s hand, they have no doubt that they\'re facing a civilized being, not some barbarian from beyond the frontier.\"

Harry sighed as Draco released one hand to start working on the other. \"But, Drake, you were raised by snobbish rich people. I don\'t think I was made for this sort of thing like you were.\"

\"Nonsense! Harry, you\'ll still be you, and you don\'t have to really act all that differently. It\'s more in the way you present yourself. No longer the lost little orphan boy, instead a young gentleman who, though perhaps inexperienced, must be reckoned with.\"

\"So, a manicure will do this?\"

The charmed file started up again. \"It\'s a start,\" Draco mused. \"Then a change in wardrobe-- your cousin\'s clothes are quite atrocious, they\'ll never do. Then things like manners, all the things most young gentlemen learn either from their father or from hired tutors.\"

Harry groaned. \"No posture lessons?\" he quipped.

\"No,\" Draco shook his head. \"Between the Quidditch and the singing, you\'ve got all the grace a person needs. Were you anymore graceful, you\'d be slithering, not walking.\"

Harry hissed something facetious in Parseltongue.

\"Whatever,\" Draco muttered back. \"You\'ll be hissing a different song tonight.\"

\"Hmm?\" Interest dawned on Harry\'s face.

\"But only if you\'re good.\" Draco added with a smirk.

* * *

Standing by the window, Draco watched Harry sleep, sprawled out over their bed, arms and legs akimbo, skin lit by the fitful flickering light from the burning arrow resting on a small table near the door, dark hair mussed from their earlier activities.

Not that a person would notice, he thought with a smile. But the smile faded again as his thoughts returned to their previous track. He had taken a risk, today, with his efforts to \"reform\" Harry. He believed he was doing the right thing-- after all, Harry really had no one else to teach him proper decorum, lacking in any decent upbringing as it was. But still, he wondered if maybe he should just be happy with the way everything was. What if Harry got annoyed with Draco\'s efforts? Worse, what if Harry decided that Draco was too much trouble? True, they were bonded, and nothing could break the bond. But that didn\'t mean Harry couldn\'t grow to resent him.

Draco shivered. He didn\'t think he could stand the mere thought of Harry resenting him for something. Because then. . .

Draco thought back to Christmas morning. He had known that Harry had been interested in Cho Chang back in fourth and fifth year, that she had been his first kiss. But he still got a gift from her, even though they were no longer \"close\". Harry said he was over her, and Draco believed him, but still. . .what if Voldemort had never initiated that spell in the first place? What if that whole complication had never risen? Would he and Harry have ever got together? There were so many people who loved Harry, would he ever have given even a passing thought to Draco? Draco doubted it. He knew he loved Harry because he\'d actually gotten to know him and then couldn\'t help it. But Harry. . . Harry had known him all along. If he hadn\'t been forced into it, would he have loved Draco eventually anyway?

And, if it was forced, or even. . . cajoled. . .was it real at all? If something did manage to break the bond, would Harry still love him, now that the danger was over? Or would Harry sort of . . . \"wake up,\" and wonder what he\'d ever seen in Draco?

Draco sighed. He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he loved Harry with every part of his being. And he also knew that Harry loved him back. But the mere thought that, maybe, Harry\'s love had not been entirely willing chilled Draco. He didn\'t want to force Harry to anything, much less something as important as love. It wasn\'t right, doing something like that. Even worse, would someone even know if it wasn\'t all completely natural?

Harry stirred. \"Draco,\" he muttered breathily. \"Come back to bed, I\'m cold.\"

Draco slipped back into bed, Harry\'s arms wrapping about him.

\"Somethin\' wrong?\" the dark-haired boy mumbled sleepily.

\"No.\" Draco snuggled back. \"Nothing wrong, just looking at the stars.\"

* * *


It was with the promise of rewards that Draco finally managed to finally teach Harry to be a proper gentleman. The \"decent\" wardrobe had to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend, but in the meantime, Draco made such good progress with Harry that Hermione soon had pressured Ron into \"learning to behave like a rational being\". From there Ginny was heard to comment on \"how nice it was to have some real gentlemen around,\" which both Neville and Goyle heard, and the next thing anyone knew, Draco was hosting \"finishing classes\" early on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings before Quidditch practice.

It was such a surprise success, that Draco had to recruit Blaise and Pansy to help him in the teaching, and while it still took an amazingly long time for their students to learn the difference between a salad and dessert fork, or how to address a Duke as opposed to an Earl, the teachers did note that their young men were now less likely to slouch in their seats, and were more likely to hold doors for others or use the words \"please\" and \"thank you\".

* * *

It was the hope of the young ladies in the castle that the boys would be whipped into shape by the ball on Valentine\'s Day, something Draco often despaired of, but soon Harry--what with all the additional tutoring he\'d had on the side-- was advanced enough to start helping out his classmates.

The weekend before Valentine\'s Day was that month\'s Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco dragged Harry down to the village, intent on getting him clothes that were \"at the very least, presentable, I\'m not looking for miracles. . . \"

It was a tense bunch that made their way to Hogsmeade that day. No new news had come from Snape, so while they knew that Voldemort was, as usual, scheming away, they had no idea what he was planning, or when he might strike next. Half the staff of Hogwarts had come to the village as well, keeping an eye on all their charges, wary for both masked faces and wayward snowballs.

Draco, pulling Harry by the hand, confidently marched his way up to Louis XVI Gentlemen\'s Clothiers.

\"Ah! Monsieur Malfoi! It is so good to see you again, and aahh!\" The wiry Frenchman stopped halfway through his greeting and stared at Harry in abject horror. \"What--is that? Is that. . . polyester? \'Ere, in my sanctuary?\"

Draco smiled in commiseration. \"Francois, this is Harry. He was raised by savages, as you can see. I\'d like it if you could rehabilitate him for me, the Valentine\'s Ball is in just a few days.\"

The look on Francois\' face had melted from horror to compassion.

\"Ah, mon pauvre enfant.\" He reached out a hand to trace Harry\'s jaw line. \"So much potential, oui, oui, Monsieur Malfoi was quite right in bringing you into my care. . . such clear skin, so lovely the eyes . . .\"

\"Francois. . .\" Draco scowled. \"Il est mon amour. . .\"

The Frenchman paled, snatching his hands back as through burned.

\"Mais oui, Monsieur Malfoi. . .Well, Monsieur \'Arri, come in, we shall take care of you très rapidement!\"

Draco, I can\'t understand half of the words he says! Harry sent as they walked into the back of the store, sounding slightly panicked.

That\'s because it\'s French. Draco repressed a chuckle. He\'s a little . . . flighty, but he\'s the best tailor in Britain outside of London.

I\'ll keep that in mind.

Two hours later, Harry stumbled out of the store, Draco close behind looking smug and self-satisfied, levitating a large pile of parcels alongside them both. Finally, his husband was properly attired, and Draco would never have to look at those horribly oversized clothes again. Life was good.

* * *

Privet Drive was always full of shadows at twilight. Shadows from cars, houses, post-boxes and bushes punctuated the snow-covered suburban evening like wild commas strewn across a blank page. They were also very good places for ne\'er-do-wells to hide in, in preparation for nefarious deeds.

On the night of Valentine\'s Day, one such cretin lurked in the shadows of a bush in the garden of 5, Privet Drive, going over its instructions one last time.

\"Let\'s see,\" it muttered to himself. \"Not the woman, or the man, or their rather large boy. Not them, no, Master doesn\'t want those ones. Not yet, anyway. No, no, I must take the boy\'s friends, yes, yes, the friends is what Master wants. . .to give to the lady.\" The thing in the shadows shivered at the thought of her. \"Mad she is, yes, we wouldn\'t want to displease her . . . so only the friends. . .\"

The shadows grew longer, until all the snow was drenched in them, and even the sky was swallowed by lowering clouds, blocking out both moon and stars.

It was time.

* * *

The Valentine\'s Day ball was in full swing, and Draco was in his element, exuding charm and wit, smiling and dancing and otherwise, as his father would have said, \"greasing the cogs of the social machine.\" How his father had come by such a strangely Muggle-ish turn of phrase was something that Draco had never dared ask.

His first dancing partner had been, of course, Harry, who had managed not to step on his toes or screw up the rhythm. This was far more than Draco had hoped for, so he considered it an excellent start to the evening. Next, he had enjoyed a lovely bit of Strauss with Professor McGonagall, who had commented that the last time she\'d had a waltz that wonderful was \"many years ago, in a wonderful palace in Wien.\" Hermione was similarly impressed, and she\'d expressed her appreciation for his taking Ron in hand and teaching him a little grace.

Now he and Harry were standing together by the wall, watching as Neville spun Ginny delicately across the floor. Draco was seriously considering taking Harry back out to join them when a rather stony-faced Professor Snape approached them. The Gryffindor took one look and decided to leave the talking to his husband.

\"So, Uncle Sev\'rus, did the wolf bite you when you asked him for a spin?\" Draco asked innocently.

Harry choked on his punch-- those weren\'t exactly the words he would have chosen. As such, he nearly missed Snape\'s muttered reply of \"Don\'t I wish. . .\"

\"No,\" he spoke up, ignoring their shocked faces. \"Something has happened which requires Potter\'s attention.\" He turned to Harry. \"The Headmaster would like to speak with you in his office. Draco and Professor McGonagall are to come as well.\" He turned briskly on his heels, striding out of the Hall while the two younger men followed solemnly at his back.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them outside the Hall.

\"What\'s going on?\" Harry asked the two Professors.

They looked at each other grimly before McGonagall answered. \"There was a Death Eater attack earlier this evening,\" she began. \"Pier Polkiss and three other boys named Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon were kidnapped just before sunset. The Minister of Magic wishes to inform you personally, and is. . . concerned, that your relatives may be the next target.\"

Harry scowled. He knew very well that the Minister didn\'t really care about his aunt, uncle or cousin-- this was simply a matter of keeping up appearances. And no doubt, the Minister would suggest something silly and stupid like putting the Dursleys up at Hogwarts \"until danger has passed.\" Harry silently vowed that that would never happen.

Draco watched his husband\'s face. He knew all too well of Harry\'s \"problems\" with his relatives, having witnessed their treatment of him over the past summer, and from many conversations since. He also knew what \"an incompetent arse\" the Minister was, and figured he knew just as well as Harry what the Minister might try to suggest.

Harry, love, I know the mere thought of having those people in this building sends you into paroxysms of horror and disgust, believe me, I think even the suits of armour can tell. But think of this as a chance to show the Minister who -- and in this case, more importantly what-- you are.

Harry glanced over at his silver-haired companion, thinking his words over. True, if he ever wanted to let the Minister know that he was no longer the \"lost little boy\", there was no time better than now. As much as he\'d have liked to avoid the games of politics all together for the entirety of his life, Harry had long since come to the unfortunate realization that the only escape for him would be to abandon those he loved and disappear entirely. And since Harry Potter did not abandon his friends, politics was just something that would have to be dealt with.

That\'s true, love, but I\'m not sure if I\'m ready yet. I know you\'ve been teaching me a lot, but. . . well, he didn\'t become Minister for absolutely no reason at all. Even if he is a bumbling idiot, he\'s also used to dealing with the likes of . . . well, your father, for one.

Draco grinned. Then act like my father.

Harry nearly tripped over his own feet. It was a good suggestion, but he wasn\'t sure if he could pull it off.

Of course you can do it, love. The subject matter alone will give you the attitude, just remember to be all proper and condescending when you speak.

\"Right,\" Harry said aloud as they approached the Gryphon. \"My motto for this meeting is: What Would Lucius Malfoy Do?\"

McGonagall made a face of disapproval, Snape snickered and Draco grinned. As they approached the door, Harry looked over at his Potions Professor, and the latter was very surprised to see a familiar looking smirk appear on his student\'s face.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was a very important man, a fact he reminded himself of no less than twelve times a day. Certain things were expected in certain situations, and part of what he did was to make sure those expectations worked to his advantage. Which was why he was now waiting patiently in the office of Hogwarts\' Headmaster. It wouldn\'t do to have people think he didn\'t care about the boy. He was a national hero, and an orphan besides. If it seemed the minister was neglecting his care, his approval ratings would suffer, something he couldn\'t afford at all.

He rose as Dumbledore looked up at the door.

\"Come in, come in,\" he said, and the door opened to admit two young men and two older professors. Fudge did a double take at the young men. The blond was instantly recognisable as Draco Malfoy, but the other one. . .

It had been a while since he\'d last seen Harry Potter, but he\'d never expected the change he saw before him. True, the eyes were still startling green, the hair still wild and black, the scar still looked like lightning. But where once there stood a lost orphan boy in trousers five sizes too big, now there stood a self-assured young man with definite presence and fine tailoring.

\"Headmaster,\" the young man nodded. \"Minister.\" Fudge took the hand that was extended to him, gathering what wits he could find.

\"Ah, Mister Potter,\" he said. \"You\'re looking well. I trust your studies are going well?\"

Mister Potter smirked. \"Better, now that I\'ve accepted that Professor Snape will always be an evil, demanding git. But, I suppose that\'s the price for getting the best, wouldn\'t you say?\"

The Minister nearly choked at Harry\'s words, shocked that he would say the first part in front of that very teacher. \"Indeed,\" he replied, at a loss. \"The best.\"

\"So,\" Harry gracefully sat in a chair before Dumbledore\'s desk. \"What is so important that I have to miss Valentine\'s Ball?\"

Dumbledore looked at Fudge over is half-moon glasses.

\"Ahm\" the Minister cleared his throat, then began telling them about he kidnapping earlier that evening. \". . .and so, we don\'t know where they are, or what their fate may be. We are also concerned that your relatives may be the next target.\"

Harry looked at Dumbledore quizzically.

\"And?\" he asked.

\"And what?\" Fudge replied, puzzled.

Harry sighed, giving the Minister a bland look. \"And why was I called out of the Ball? The string quintet was just getting ready for a tango, and I had been hoping to get Draco back out on the floor. I\'m quite disappointed that we\'ve missed it.\"

Fudge narrowed his eyes, not sure what Harry was playing at. Had he been paying any attention at all?

\"Harry,\" he said wearily. \"We\'re afraid your family may be at risk, and we may need to move them to a place of safety.\"

The young man gave him a level look.

\"First, Minister, those people are not my family, they are my relatives. They can all sod off and die, for all I care, trust me, the world would be a better place without them. Second, the Weasley twins have placed a blood-ward on their house, so it should be safe enough. Third, if you do feel a need to move them somewhere, very well, go ahead and do it. Just make sure they\'re not within ten kilometres of any place I am in. And finally, if Voldemort\'s forces,\" Fudge flinched at the name, \"really want to hurt Muggles I care about, then the Grangers are in much greater danger. I suggest you find them someplace to stay, as well as perhaps even the Finnegans, or other Muggles related to people in my house.\"

Fudge shivered. As Harry had spoken, the light in the room had seemed to dim, and the temperature had dropped, so now their breath puffed in the air.

\"Mr. Potter,\" the Minister finally said. \"Am I hearing you correctly? You don\'t care what happens to them at all?

Harry sighed, adopting an expression he\'d seen Snape use quite frequently in class.

\"Let me try to explain this so you can understand. They are the only people in the world that make me think Voldemort might actually have a point.\"

Even Dumbledore looked at little startled at the phrasing. Harry continued.

\"Whether they are allowed into Hogwarts is ultimately not my decision, it is the Headmaster\'s, but let me state right now that I would protest most vociferously , if that decision should be made. I would much rather we used taxpayer money to protect Muggles who actually need it.\"

Fudge stood aghast at what he was hearing. \"Are they really that bad?\" he asked before he could stop himself.

But it was Draco who answered. \"My father was better parent than the two older Dursleys combined, Minister. I saw how they treated him when they were treating him \'well.\' Even my Death-Eater father would never have allowed me to be treated so horribly.\"

At the young Malfoy\'s words, the room had lightened and warmed back up, and only now was the Minister beginning to comprehend that Harry Potter was growing up.

\"Well,\" Harry smiled, though it didn\'t reach his eyes. \"Is that all? I think I\'m beginning to develop what might turn into a monstrous headache.\"

Dumbledore looked at the pale-faced Minister, who didn\'t reply.

\"I believe so, Harry. I am sorry you had to miss your tango, and I do hope you\'ll feel better after getting some rest. Off you two go, now. Professors, you may go as well.\"

Harry stood, nodding to both Dumbledore and Fudge before sweeping out. Draco lingered for just a moment, staring the Minister straight in the eye before smirking in a very familiar, evil way, before he followed his compatriot out of the door, their Professors following.

* * *

\"Well, looks like the little bugger can be taught after all,\" said Snape as they walked down the hall.

\"Professor Snape!\" McGonagall chided. \"Language!\"

\"It\'s not like he said anything that wasn\'t true,\" Draco defended his teacher with a sly grin.

McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose. \"That wasn\'t something I needed to hear,\" she muttered.

Harry snickered, then sobered.

\"There was something that troubled me, but I certainly didn\'t want to discuss it around Fudge. . .\"

Everyone looked at him as he trailed off, giving him their full attention.

\"Why them?\" he asked. \"Why would they target someone close enough to notice, but not close enough to truly concern? And why kidnap them at all? Aren\'t people usually killed in instances like that?\"

Snape nodded.

\"It may be that they only want to scare you, or perhaps gather some information before killing them. . .unfortunately, the Dark Lord seems not to trust me very much in recent months. But then, he\'s a lot less trusting than ever before. If a person isn\'t directly involved in plans for something, they learn nothing of it. . . However, I do share your concern for Granger\'s family. I think it is something that should be discussed with the Headmaster.\"

McGonagall nodded.

\"I think we should keep all the families of Harry\'s known friends in mind,\" she said. \"Especially the students from your house. They\'ll be particularly vulnerable, even if they are all witches and wizards.\"

Snape agreed. \"Would you have any objections to Hogwarts housing those families?\" he asked Harry as they approached the suite the boys shared.

\"Not at all.\" Harry sighed, shaking his head a bit. \"I just. . . I really don\'t ever want to have to see my relatives again. Godric\'s Hollow is being rebuilt, and we should be able to live there by the end of term. I\'ve got a husband, and we may well spend half the upcoming summer overseas. I don\'t need to return to their house anymore, and I really don\'t want them in the only real home I\'ve ever known. But the other families. . . they\'re more like my family than my relatives are. I\'d very much like to get to know them better.\"

Harry and Draco stopped outside their door, and Snape grunted his understanding. \"We\'ll keep that in mind when we speak to the Headmaster after Fudge leaves. Which reminds me. . .\" he reached into his robe and pulled out a vial. \"For your headache.\"

Harry had the grace to blush. \"Oh, thanks, but it\'s not necessary. The headache miraculously disappeared outside Dumbledore\'s office. . .\"

Snape suppressed another smirk. \"Very well. You two get some rest, Professor McGonagall and I will inform everyone else what happened, and then speak to the Headmaster.\"

The boys smiled and thanked them, then walked through their door.

\"Oh, and Draco. . .\" The blond turned back to his head of house.

\"I think your father would be quite proud of the work you\'ve done with Harry.\"

Draco\'s smile covered his face as the door closed.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

To be honest, if something had happened to the Dursleys back then, I probably would have felt guilty about not keeping them safe. Not because I truly cared about them, not at all, but because it simply would have been one more failure, three more names to the list, yet another sign that people close to me were in danger, whether I liked them or not. I\'m still not sure how I feel about that.

Draco says that it\'s simply part of who I am, that I love everybody at least a little bit, enough to not actually wish them dead. He says that in this case, it\'s a completely impersonal love. A sort of love that extends the same to all humanity, a general not-really-wishing-anyone-ill. Sure, people piss me off, or become evil bastards, and sometimes, people need killing. But he may be right in that I often wish there were other ways.

But I\'ve come to the sad realization that some people cannot be negotiated with. People who massacre children, who gas their own people, who blow themselves up to kill civilians, who set off curse bombs in the midst of busy cities, who slaughter those who are different or bake them in ovens. . . No amount of negotiating will ever work with these people. I\'ve tried. Others have tried. All negotiating does is lead to more deaths, more massacres, each more horrifying than the last. And one has to face the fact that if you love the body of humanity, then you must cut out the cancer immediately, at all costs. The longer you wait, the worse it becomes, and the more people die. And finally, you must weigh the lives already lost against the lives you may save. One must realise that every person who dies from your inaction in one more person whose blood stains your hands. If I can save the lives of innocents by simply killing one evil man, then that man is already dead.

I wish to God it weren\'t so.

I\'m so tired of war, so tired of killing, so tired of the list that keeps growing.

I want nothing more than to quit these damned battles. To tour again, perhaps.

Or even better, to go home and sleep for days with my beloved Draco by my side. Then to wake, with nothing to do except find breakfast. And then spend all day puttering around the library or the garden.

But these are luxuries I can not yet indulge in. To those who are given much, much is expected.

We have been given everything. We know what is expected.

From: An Address to His Majesty\'s Royal Armed Wizarding Forces on the Fifth Anniversary of Their Formation, by Lord General Harry J. Potter-Malfoy; Order of Merlin, 1st Degree, OotP, OotG.
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