Come Undone

Body


Disclaimer and Warning: part 1

Note: At this point, one might be inclined to see Draco as being out of character, and one might be correct. Read the opening quote. That's how I tried explaining it.

Allocate Your Sentiment and Stick It In a Box

"Goodness is something chosen. When a man cannot choose,

he ceases to be a man." Prison Charlie in A Clockwork

Orange by Anthony Burgess, 1962

Tap Tap Tap

"Go 'way," Harry mumbled in his sleep.

Tap Tap Tap

"Get it, Potter," Draco said, fighting his inclination to wake up.

Tap Tap Tap

"'S Pie," Harry told him without getting up.

Shaking off his desire to go back to sleep, Draco threw back his blanket and climbed out of bed. He opened the window, allowing his dripping owl inside. Outside it was thundering and lightning, and he became overwhelmed with concern for his bird. He checked her over to make sure she was okay. She seemed fine aside from being wet, so he turned his attention to the box she'd dropped when she perched on the back of the chair.

"Oh my god," he breathed as he stared at the locked mahogany box, falling to the floor.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sounding fully awake.

"Give me your wand," Draco demanded very softly.

"No. What is it?"

"Unlock this for me. Please," Draco pleaded, drawing Harry out from the recesses of his curtained bed.

Pointing his wand at the box, Harry muttered, "Alohomora,"d thd the lock sprang open. "What is it?" he asked again.

The box no longer locked, Draco opened it to reveal a collection of parchments. He shuffled them aside and pulled out his wand. Pie hooted loudly from her perch on the chair.

"Looks like she's got a letter," Harry said as he stood and crossed to the owl. She hooted affectionately at him as he untied the parchment from her leg. He tossed it to Draco and stroked Pie's neck.

With hurried movements, Draco tore open the envelope and pulled the letter out. Moments after he'd started reading, hot tears stung Harry's eyes. Draco wiped his eyes and let his hand clutching the letter fall to his lap.

"What is it?" Harry asked again.

"M-my mother sent it to me," he whispered, shuffling once again through the parchments in the box. He obviously wasn't finding what he was looking for, so he dumped the entire contents on the floor. Aside from the parchments there were several glass phials, a few small trinkets, and two or three moving pictures. He shook the box and one more picture fell out. It was yellowed and frayed, but still intact. He smiled as more tears fell from his eyes.

"What's all this?" Harry asked as he sat down beside his roommate.

Without answering, Draco handed him the picture. It was of his mother, who was smiling, holding a baby Draco, and waving to the camera. Harry's brows knit and he brushed the wetness from his eyes. Tearing his attention from the photograph in his hand, he looked at the other things scattered on the floor.

"She s-says that Father cleaned out my room," Draco told Harry. "And she found this after he'd left."

"What is all this, Draco?"

"My life," he answered quietly. "All the stuff no one's seen but me." Harry nodded and stood up. "No, it's okay," Draco said quickly and Harry sat back down. "I mean, I don't think it really matters if you see this, you know?" He smirked, but it wasn't an unpleasant gesture. "Being as we're kind of the same now, you know?" He held up another of the pictures and Harry took it.

"Is this..?" he trailed off. He thought it was his mother and Draco's mother, but they were both no older than Harry and Draco.

"Your mum? Yeah. She and my mum were friends at school," Draco replied.

Jumping up, Harry dropped the pictures and went to his nightstand. He pulled out a red, leather-bound volume and sat back down. After flipping almost to the back of the book, he stopped, obviously having found what he was looking for. He handed it to Draco.

"See?" he said, smiling. He was looking at another picture of Lily and Narcissa, but they were in their early twenties. His smile faded. "This must have been taken right before

"You didn't do it," Harry replied, monotone. Sifting through the pile of stuff, Draco picked out a silver token and gave it to Harry. "What's this?"

"Good luck charm," Draco replied. "Your mum gave it to my mum and she gave it to me." Harry tried to hand it back, but Draco held up his hand. "No. I think you should you have it, now."

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Well, you don't have the best luck in the world, do you?" Draco asked with a small smile.

"Neither do you," Harry pointed out, examining the silver-cast four-leaf clover.

"Yes, well

"What're those?" Harry asked, pointing to the phials.

"This one's for sleep," he said, holding up one full of blue liquid. "This one'll get you so high you think you're flying," he held up another full of an iridescent purple potion. "Poison," he held out a black potion, "love," he held up nk onk one, and Harry smirked. "What?"

"What on Earth do you need a love potion for?" he asked, still smirking.

"I was supposed to take it before first year," he replied offhandedly. "I don't think it's any good anymore, though."

"Why?"

"Because it's been sitting in this box for five and a half years," Draco replied.

"No, I mean why were you supposed to take it?"

"Fall in love with Pansy," he replied, sounding very disgusted.

"Pansy?" Harry sneered. "Good god, why?"

"I was supposed to marry her," Draco said. "But I don't think I have to worry about that anymore."

"What do you mean you were supposed to marry her?" Harry pressed.

"I mean just what I said. It was arranged when she was born," he explained. "I didn't have much say in the matter, obviously."

"Your parents arranged a marriage before you could even talk?" Harry asked in utter disbelief.

"My father did," he spat. "Mother was opposed to the whole thing and she never forgot to mention it to me. She hated Pansy's parents and she hates Pansy even more, if that's even possible. She should be pleased," he said lightly. "Of course, the fact that I'm bound to you probably doesn't make her too happy. Never mind. What's done is done."

"Draco? Can I ask you a question?"

"Another one?" he laughed. "I don't know, that might be pushing it."

"Sod yourself," Harry smiled. "No, I was just wonderingum well

"No, I don't think so," Draco assured him. "I just don't think she'd be too happy about my chances of dying increasing."

"Oh," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with me," Draco sighed. "And I'm sorry about

"Did you really have no choice in the matter?" Harry asked very seriously.

"Do you want the truth?" Harry nodded. "I don't know. I did it of my own free will, if that's what you want to know. But if I'd refusedVoldemort brand me. It was just one of those things."

"One of what things?"

Draco sighed heavily. "One of those things I've been taught all my life. It's kinda sad, you know. I spent my whole life in preparation for a five-minute meeting and look where I am now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, since as long as I can remember, my father taught me how to be a dark wizard. I could curse you into oblivion if I felt like it, if that tells you anything. I could do it when I was ten. And I guess I just kind of figured that I'd be a Death Eater someday, so I didn't give it whole lot of thought otherwise. And then Voldemort came back and you know the rest."

Shaking his head, Harry sighed in disbelief. "Do you really care so little about yourself?"

gh tgh the question was rhetorical, Draco answered anyway. "Put yourself in my shoes for a moment. Well

"You only saw your mother for two hours a month?" he asked incredulously. "My god, how is that possible?"

"Easily. You've never been to Malfoy Manor, have you?" he said dryly. "There are so many rooms, one could get lost wandering them. And I did and that's why I only saw her twice a month. Lucius thought she was a bad influence." Harry snorted. "I know. That's what I thought, too. But then what he taught me started sinking in I guess, because I was a pretty wretched excuse for a human being up until recently." Here, he stopped and sighed once more. "I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could be sorry, you know, but I can't. I just don't care. What's done is done. I can't change it."

"So if you care so little for what happened to you then, why do you obviously care so much now?" asked Harry, no small amount of disdain evident in his tone.

"I don't have any choice," he answered, holding his hands open in front of him. "I know better, now, perhaps. Honestly, I think that the fact that I've got more right now than I've ever had my entire life probably has something to do with it."

Harry said nothing. This new perspective had thrown him into a slight state of shock and, though it didn't answer any of his questions directly, it gave him a bit more of an understanding of his companion. What Draco had now that he didn't have then was beginning to weigh on his mind. If being life-bonded to Harry was an improvement over his previous circumstances, he wasn't all that sure he wanted to know about them.

"Least I got my wand back, though," Draco said as he packed his stuff back into its box. "Now all I need is some shoes and I'll be all set."

"Good night, then," Harry said as he went back to his bed, still thinking very hard about all that had just transpired.

"Oh, my mother gives you her regards," Draco said once they were both settled back into bed.

"What?" Harry replied, confused.

"She said, and I quote, 'Give Harry my regards.'"

"Oh. Tell her thanks."

"Sure thing. Good night."

"Good night."

*****

Next morning, Harry awoke with tears in his eyes. He'd had no dreams the night before since Draco had gotten his package, and there appeared to be no other reason for him to want to cry. Then, once his head had cleared of the last vestiges of sleep, he figured that it was Draco who was crying. No sooner had this realisation struck him than they stopped. He decided not to mention it to Draco and instead headed for the shower.

In his own bed, Draco sighed heavily and looked at the owl that was sitting on the outside of the window. It had arrived as soon as Harry had gone into the bathroom, but Draco didn't want to allow it inside. It was neither Piewackett nor Hedwig and that could only mean one thing. It tapped impatiently on the window and Draco forced himself to let the bird inside. It didn't come in; it just stuck its leg out for Draco to take the copy of the Daily Prophet that it had clutched in its talons.

"Thanks," Draco said as the owl flew away. He didn't even have to look at the paper to know what it would say. Nevertheless, he unfolded the newspaper to the first page. In big, bold letters the headline read, "Three bodies discovered in Southern Scotland". He knew who those three bodies were, but he read on.

"Two partially decomposed bodies were discovered deep within the Cheviot Hills, five miles in from the English border. Ministry of Magick officials have identified the bodies, but have refused to comment on their names. It is known that they were followers of the wizard known as Voldemort.

"The third body was found in a dumpster in Dumfries by several Muggle teenagers. Muggle authorities were already on the scene by the time Ministry officials arrived, but were very helpful according to Minister of Magick, Cornelius Fudge. They identified the woman as Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy, a former governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and professional Auror working directly under Minister Fudge.

"When asked about his wife's last known whereabouts, Malfoy commented, 'She was on her way to visit her mother. I asked if I should go with her and she declined. I should never have let her leave,' he said as he wiped a tear from his eye. 'It will be difficult without her-' continued on page five."

Draco snorted and threw the paper on the table. "'Wiped a tear from his eye' my arse. Lucius Malfoy knows no remorse. 'It will be difficult without her' who does he think he's kidding? Honestly!" he said to the empty room.

The letter Narcissa had sent him the night before lay open on his nightstand. He picked it up and re-read it.

Draco,

This was all I could find in your bedroom. Everything else was removed. I hope that whatever this box contains will be of service to you, else you probably wouldn't have hidden it so well, would you? Your father will have found out by the time you get this. I never was very good at lying. Please do not be distressed by the news of my unfortunate demise. ('How very like her,' Draco thought, 'to be sarcastic at a time like this.') I love you more than life itself, Draco. Please be well and give Harry my regards. I wish the best for both of you and pray the Gods be on your side. Rest assured that I will be persuading them. All I ask of you in return is to think of me once in a while. Laugh and smile when you do, or I fear I will have to haunt you. In the meantime, I will be trying my best to make Lucius' life a living hell. Just for you. Everything I've ever done right, I've done for you. I love you. Be well and happy.

Love and Light,

Mum, Mother, Ma, or whatever you're calling me these days

"You know, Mum," Draco laughed, "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to haunt me. I've never had my own poltergeist before. Besides, I think Harry might like to meet you. He seemed rather intrigued when I told him you were friends with his mother. I hope you get to see her again."

Tucking the letter back in its envelope, Draco went about getting his things together for the day, glad that he had his wand and his mother's affections. And the knowledge that Lucius was being haunted didn't hurt either.

*****

Breakfast that morning didn't go over very well. Harry and Draco had arrived and taken their usual seats at the Gryffindor table when almost every head turned to look at Draco. Colin, who was sitting on Draco's other side, looked rather pensive. Draco had hidden the Daily Prophet before Harry had gotten out of the shower and hadn't mentioned it to him. He was very nervous about him finding out, though he couldn't identify exactly why and hoped that no one there would say anything.

"All right, Colin?" he asked his friend as he helped himself to a roll and fruit.

"Ah, fine. Fanks," he replied quietly. "You okay?" he asked, finally making eye contact with the other boy.

"Smashing," he answered dryly.

"I read da papersis morning," Colin told him. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," he said. "So does everyone know already, or what?"

"Pretty much," replied the boy. "Da Slyverins seem to find it greatly amusing, so try not to let it get to you. Vey probly jus' don' know any better."

Draco looked over at the Slytherin table to find half of them laughing heartily, about a quarter looked like nothing was amiss (which was good as far as Draco was concerned), and a few looked almost sad. Almost, but not quite.

Pansy Parkinson chose that moment to enter the Hall, arm in arm with Blaise Zabini. They were talking and laughing to each other, but as they passed the Gryffindor table, Blaise turned to Draco and said, "My condolences on your loss." He was very sarcastic and still smirking.

"Oh, he wouldn't be bothered by such things," Pansy said to Blaise while looking at Draco. "I'm sure he's glad to be without her, seeing as how he ran away this summer to shack up with Potty." They laughed again and continued on to the Slytherin table.

Colin and a few others vey get some kinda nasty disease from fuckin' each ovver," Colin muttered viciously. "Serve 'em right, iuld.uld."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Weller he faltered as he struggled not to cry. "My mum

Raising his hands to his mouth, Harry seemed to have understood. "Oh god. I'm so sorry, Draco. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not really one of those things you just tell someone," Draco said very quietly. "I mean, what could I say? 'Good morning, sleep well? Good. Thanks, I slept fine, too. I had a dream about flying dogs. Oh, and did I mention that my mother was murdered in the middle of the night?'"

"You don't seem very distressed," Ron said scathingly.

"There's nothing I can do about it," he replied, monotone.

"Fits, I think," Ron continued. "God, Harry, how do you stand being with this heartless bastard all the time?"

Before he even realised it, Ron found himself on his back with Draco sitting atop him with his knees pinning Ron's arms to his sides and his hand on his neck. "I loved my mother," Draco hissed, eyes blazing. "I loved my mother very much. She's dead, Weasley. Dead. Did you know that death is a permanent condition? Did you know that I can't do a damn thing about it? She asked me not to cry for her, so I'm trying not to. It hurts like you wouldn't fucking believe, Weasley. It's taking all my fucking willpower not to have a nervous fucking breakdown and you're not helping by tng sng shit about things you don't have the slightest fucking clue about. Maybe when your mother is fucking murdered you'll know what the fuck it feels like. In the meantime, keep your fucking mouth shut, you stupid prick."

"-alfoy, please get off of Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said very gently. He'd been trying to talk sense to the boy since he saw him attack, but he clearly hadn't heard him as he continued to sit and talk to Ron.

Slightly confused, Draco looked up into the passive face of the headmaster. His hand was still on Ron's neck, but he hadn't applied any pressure. He looked back down at Ron's stricken face and back up at the headmaster. He looked up at Harry, then at Hermione, then at Colin. All three of them wore expressions of shock and concern, but whom for, no one really could tell. Draco released Ron's neck and stood up, trying not to tread on his hands.

"Sorry 'bout that, Sir," he said to Dumbledore as though he were apologising for nothing more than being late for a class. "I wasn't trying to hurt him," he continued in his light tone, "I was just trying to make him understand. Do you think we can talk about this somewhere else?" he asked without looking at the rest of the silently staring assemblage.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. He was more than slightly disturbed, but tried very hard not to let it show. Harry stood to accompany him, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "I will send for you if you are needed," he told Harry. "Otherwise, I'd like to keep this quiet." He cast his gaze meaningfully around the hall, and everyone went back to eating. "Come on, Draco," he said as he led him away from the scene of his outburst.

No sooner had they passed through the doors than the entire assemblage burst into chatter. "Can you believe that?" "Tried to strangle him, he did!" "Crazy git." "Poor guy." "God, I never thought Malfoy'd loose his cool like that." "Unbelievable!" echoed through the hall.

Hermione and Harry both turned to a very sheepish Ron and said simultaneously, "Ron, I think that was the wrong thing to say."

"What possessed you to say that?" Hermione asked him.

"Honestly, Ron, he's probly jus' in shock," Colin told him reasonably. "You shouldn'ta said vat."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that when he pinned me on the floor," Ron snapped back. "I'm an insensitive asshole, all right? Happy?"

"I know you don't like Malfoy, Ron; none of us do," Hermione said, being the voice of reason that she was. "'Cept Colin. But he's a weirdo," she winked at Colin, and he wasn't offended. "Not liking someone doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to fuck with him, though."

"How can you defend him?" Ron demanded.

"He's left us alone all year already," she started.

"Oh, a whole month and a half and he's a fucking saint," Ron sneered as he rolled his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"And he hardly said anything to us at all last year. Why do you have to carry grudges like that?" Hermione asked, exasperated. "God, you're so immature sometimes."

"And what about you?" Ron asked Harry. "You're being awy quy quiet. I suppose you're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Harry told him. "I'm surprised you're not."

"Oh?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. "Please enlighten me as to why. This should be stunning."

"Well gee, Ron, I don't know," Harry said very sarcastically. "Maybe I'm the thatthat's fucked up, but when I see a normally passive individual lunge at a guy twice his size and pin him to the floor, I kinda tend to wonder what's the matter."

"Nice to know you were concerned for my well-being," Ron muttered to his plate.

"Are you tryin' ta piss off everyone vis morning?" Colin asked. "If you can't say anyfing decent, I'd keep my mouf shut, else someone's liable to shut it for you," he finished menacingly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "So are you Malfoy's personal body guard, Creevey? Or just the president of his fan club?"

"If you hadn't already been on vat floor, I'd put you vere meself," Colin told him. "His. Mum. Died. What don' ya understand? It's all very simple. And considerin' da circumstances of it, I'd say he's handling it pretty well. God, Weasley, you're da fickest person I've ever met, even if ya are skinny."

"He's so dense, light bends around him," Harry said to Colin, who choked on his pumpkin juice. "But I'd be willing to forgive him if he'd just admit he shouldn't have said what he said."

"Da you fink he'll be okay?" Colin asked.

"Yeah, I think he just snapped. I wonder why he didn't say anything, though," Harry replied thoughtfully. "It's kind of weird." He remembered the tears that had stung his eyes when he'd woken up and wondered if Draco didn't know already. He decided he would ask when no one else was around and hoped that that would be sooner than later.

"So are you going to give me the silent treatment all day?" Hermione asked Ron. He didn't respond. "Fine. C'mon, Harry, we should get to class. Ron's going to ignore us for a while."

"See ya', Colin," Harry said as he and Hermione stood to leave. "Wanna come with us?" he asked Ron, who ignored him. "Suit yourself. See you later."

Ron ignored his friends as they left him alone with his cold breakfast. Though he did feel guilty for what he'd said and the way he'd behaved, he still had too much pride to show it. That and admitting that he'd wronged Malfoy of all people didn't appeal to him. He would make amends with Harry and Hermione later, but for the moment, he was fine with his solitude. And sod that wanker, Malfoy, he thought. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he really was sorry for what had happened.

*****

Care of Magickal Creatures was very interesting that day. Hagrid had arranged for a local dragon keeper to give a demonstration on basic care for the beasts. He had Welsh Greens and Opaleyes with him as they were the most tame of the dragons that he cared for. There was little student interaction, and for that Harry and Hermione were very grateful. Ron was still in a sour mood and Draco had still not turned up. The Slytherins had remained relatively docile, most likely because of the dragons, but not having to listen to them made the morning much more enjoyable.

After class, they had a fifteen-minute break before they had to be in Herbology, so Harry bade Hermione goodbye and set off for the headmaster's office. He stood and paced outside the gargoyle for the better part of his break, not wanting to disturb a meeting if it was in progress. He had already checked the room he and Draco shared to find it devoid of life and had gone to the gargoyle thereafter.

"Something I can help you with, Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked, appearing out of nowhere and startling the pacing youth.

"Just waiting for Draco," he sighed. "I don't suppose you know what's going on up there, do you?"

"No, Son, I don't," Flitwick replied almost sadly. He hated failing students no matter what the task at hand happened to be. "I've not seen either of them since this morning."

"I kind of figured as much. Thanks anyway, Professor."

No sooner had Flitwick rounded a corner and disappeared, than Draco and the headmaster filed out of his office. "Ah, Harry, I was just going to fetch you," Dumbledore said warmly. "Would you mind escorting Mr. Malfoy to your quarters, please? He will be staying out of classes today and needs you to collect his homework."

"Sure," Harry replied. He glanced at Draco, who looked as blank as ever.

"Thank you. Good day," he finished, retreating back to the confines of his office.

A rather pensive silence had fallen over the two boys. Draco stared at some point in the wall behind Harry, who was staring intently at Draco. "You ready, then?" he asked his companion.

"Sure."

The first corridor was walked in silence until Harry decided to break it. "You okay?" he asked, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye.

"Peachy. Smashing. Tops, ace, brill. The fucking works," he replied, monotone.

"Ron fucked up," he said quietly, trying to incite a reaction from the other boy.

Draco snorted. "You could say it like that, couldn't you?"

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," he pointed out. "If I recall correctly, you actually gave your condolences."

"I guess I feel kinda responsible," Harry muttered. "He is my best friend."

"That may be so, but that doesn't mean that you should be held accountable for his actions or anything else. You take too much responsibility for shit you've got nothing to do with. You should knock it off."

"Why?" he asked bitterly. He didn't like the way the conversation was turning.

"Because it means that those who really are responsible don't have to bear the burden of their actions. Take this bond for example," he said, emotion creeping into his voice at last. "You tried to say it was your fault. And in some small way, maybe it is. It's about as much your fault as it is mine, and I can confidently say that I didn't have much to do with it, at least not willingly." Closing his left hand into a fist, he felt the missing finger with a fierce intensity. "All I'm saying is that you need to let others serve their own sentences and bear their own crimes. You can't be everyone's proverbial knight in shining armour, you know."

"Who ever said anything about knights? And even if I were, I could guarantee my armour wouldn't shine," he said with a small smile.

"You'd be surprised," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"I said you aren't alone in that one. Then again, I've never been anyone's knight before. I wonder if I could pull it off?" he mused, trying to turn the conversation in a different direction. "Hey, Cadogan?" he said to the portrait. "Think I'd make it as a knight?"

"Why, of course, Good Sir!" he replied with a lot of gusto. "Stout of heart and strong of mind you are, Good Sir. Thinking of fighting a good fight, are you?"

"No. I was just debating with Harry about whether or not I could do it in theory. I'm kinda short to do it in practice. But thanks. Can I count on your recommendation if I should choose to go that route?" he asked, trying not to laugh. Harry was biting his own lip and helped to keep them both under control.

"Aye! Any day, Good Sir!" Cadogan assured him with a bow.

"Thanks. You're too good to me. Dirshner," he said and Cadogan swung aside to admit them to their room, where they both promptly burst into fits of laughter.

"That poor little knight," Harry said once he'd calmed down enough to actually form whole words. "You really are mean to him, you know."

"Nonsense. It would only be mean if he got it," Draco replied, pretending to be haughty. "Besides, you're the one who calls him names on a regular basis. You'd be in some serious trouble if I weren't there to sweet talk him all the time."

"So you'll rescue me when I come back later?"

"Sure," he replied, sobering. "When should I expect you?"

"After lunch I'll come by. You gonna be okay?"

"Do I have a choice?" he whispered as he threw himself on his bed.

"Right. Guess I'll see you later then," Harry said as made for the door. He had pushed it open and was about to walk out when he turned to Draco and told him, "Sorry about your mum, Draco."

"Thanks," he said as he felt his throat tighten and tears build behind his eyes. He managed to get himself under control. "See ya' after lunch."

As Harry made his way to the greenhouses, he turned over Draco's situation in his mind. It was peculiar, he thought, how quickly and easily Draco had allowed him into his life when less than four months earlier they had had nothing more of a relationship than spiteful words and painful gestures. He wondered what had happened to his companion over the summer holiday that seemed to change him so drastically, but decided that he was not going to press for details. He wasn't all that sure he wanted to know, anyway. In some strange way he felt he owed something to the boy. He could have let him die and there was a time not so long ago that he would have done just that. The fact that his own life was also at stake seemed almost inconsequential to Harry. Draco was ready and willing to give himself over to Lord Voldemort, as the Mark on his arm was testament to that. He could have handed Harry at any time. But he didn't. And now he was making efforts to befriend him.

"God, today couldn't possibly get any stranger," he mumbled to himself as he joined his Herbology class.

*****

Strange wasn't the word Harry would later use to describe the rest of that day. He had checked in on his roommate after lunch to find him busy writing a letter. When asked who the letter was for, Draco told Harry that it was just for a friend and refused to give any more details. Herbology followed this little meeting and it went by without incident. All Harry had left was Divination and he would have the rest of the weekend free, except for the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw that Sunday afternoon.

Professor Trelawney's tower was just as hot and smoky as it always was and Harry dreaded it worse than ever. Since the year had begun, Trelawney had given up predicting Harry's death in favour of predicting the ways he would fail in life and be tortured at the hand of Lord Voldemort. But even more than that, he didn't want to have to face Ron, who was still giving him the cold shoulder. Harry took his seat in one of the farthest corner tables from the rest of the class, and, much to his relief, no one joined him.

"Good afternoon," Trelawney started, floating out of hiding as she always did. "It has been told to me that today we will be discovering the mysteries of the Viking runes. On your tables, you will each find a set of stones. Please refer to page 123 in Unfogging the Future for your interpretations and page 130 for your layout. I will be around to check on your progress.

Groaning inwardly, Harry opened his book and began to read:

The Runes as described here are healing, merciful Runes; they will do you no harm. ('Poor dear will be so disappointed,' Harry thought. 'I wonder if she's read this book?') Learn their language and let them speak to you. Play with the possibility that they can provide "a mirror for the magick of our Knowing Selves," a means of communication with the knowledge of our subconscious minds.

Remember that you are consulting an Oracle rather than having your fortune told. An Oracle points your attention towards those hidden fears and motivations that will shape your future by their unfelt presence within each present moment. Oracles do not absolve you of the responsibility for selecting your future, but ra dir direct your attention towards those inner choices that may be the most important elements in determining that future.

Deciding that this couldn't be as bad as every other form of divination they'd studied, Harry flipped to the back to find the spread he should use. There were two options: the more convoluted three rune layout, which he was sure would be far easier to misconstrue than the six rune cross layout. He chose the cross and read about how to cast them.

Reaching his hand inside the bag, Harry drew out a stone and laid it with the blank side up. He repeated this until there were six stones laid out in the shape of a cross with all of the pictures still facing the table. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the inevitable barrage of violent and disturbing news.

The first stone, denoting self, was turned over. He looked in his book and found that it was the first rune listed, Mannaz, but it was reversed.

Do not turn to others now, but look inside, in silence, for the enemy of your progress. No matter what the area of your life seems to you to be blocked or thwarted, stop and reconsider: you will recognise the outer "enemy" as but a reflection of what you have not, before now, been willing or able to recognise as coming from within. Above all do not give yourself airs. The momentum of past habits is the challenge here: in the life of the Spirit you are always at the beginning.

"Oh, that's cheerful," he thought out loud as he wrote this down in his notes. He thought, after he'd started reading, that he should make note of this for later when his head wasn't so fogged by Trelawney's hazy room. He thought about what the introduction had said and thought that this might be something to pay closer attention to than he normally would.

Turning over the second rune, Harry found that the symbol was Nauthiz. "So this is behind me," he said to himself as he searched for its interpretation. "Where I'm coming from.

Try not to take this world personally, this Rune is saying, work with the shadow, examine what inside you magnetises misfortune into your life. When you are able to look on this Rune with a smile, you will recognise the troubles, denials, and setbacks of life as your guides, teachers, and developers. There will be holdups, reasons to consider your plans carefully. Only remember: your dissatisfactions are not unreasonable, because there is work to be done on your self. So take it on with good will and show perseverance.

"Okay," he sighed. "Fine. I can handle that. Let's see," he turned over the third stone, "So Wunjo lies ahead of me. But it's reversed." He frowned slightly, but read on:

Things are slow in coming to fruition. The process of birth is long and arduous, and fears arise for the safety of the "child" within. A crisis, a difficult passage tranquility that is the ground for clarity, patience, and perseverance.

"So I'm pregnant and I need to nurture the child within," he smirked to himself. "God, if Draco heard that, I'd never hear the end of it." Something within Harry flickered at that moment, but it was gone before he could grasp it. He cursed Trelawney's perfumed excuse for a classroom and looked up the following rune. "My foundation is Gebo. This should be stunning."

Drawing this Rune is an indication that union, uniting, or partnership in some form is at hand. ('And has been for some time,' Harry mentally added.) But you are put on notice not to collapse yourself into that union. For true partnership can only be achieved by separate and whole beings who retain their separateness even in unity and uniting. Remember to let the winds of Heaven dance between you.

At that, Harry nearly laughed out loud. "The 'winds of Heaven' have never danced anywhere even remotely near to Draco or me," he told the book. "But that is the foundation. That's goddamned scary! Never mind," he told himself. "Great. I'm blocked by the unknowable. There's something new and different." He checked the clock and found that there were only fifteen more minutes left in class and Trelawney hadn't been by to foretell his doom yet. He flipped over the last stone and looked it up.

Jera is a Rune of beneficial outcomes. It applies to any activity or endeavor to which you are committed. Receiving this Rune encourages you to keep your spirits up. Be aware, however, that no quick results can be expected. Always a span of time is involved; hence the key words 'one year,' symbolising a full cycle of time before the reaping, the harvest, or deliverance. You have prepared the ground and planted the seed. Now you must cultivate with care.

"How lovely to see you taking notes for a change," Trelawney said from behind Harry's back. "Tell me, what do the runes say for you, Mr. Potter?" She looked over the spread and instead of the typically horrified expression she always wore when she foretold his future, there was a look of severe consternation. "Much strife is ahead of you."

"Yes, so I've heard," he replied dryly.

"You will learn one day, Mr. Potter," she said through pursed lips, "that what I and the Powers That Be have been telling you for the last three years is not entirely baseless." And with that, she drifted away to harass Ron and Neville.

Class was dismissed and Harry was one of the first to leave. After a quick stop at the Arithmancy classroom to collect Draco's homework, he headed off for his room. When he was almost there, he stopped and doubled back, heading for the stairs and the dungeons. He stood outside the painting of the fruit and tickled the pear. As soon as the knob had appeared, he opened the door and slipped into the kitchen.

"Harry Potter, Sir!" an elf exclaimed immediately before bowing very low. "It is being a great honour for us to be seeing you, Sir."

"Thank you," he said distractedly, for he was looking for a specific elf. "Where's Dobby?"

"Dobby is right behind you, Sir," Dobby squeaked. Harry turned around and the elf launched himself at him, clutching him in a fierce hug. "Dobby is glad to be seeing you, Harry Potter, Sir."

"I'm glad to see you, too, Dobby," Harry laughed. He peeled the small body from his own and set him down. "I need to ask a favour of you."

"Anything for Harry Potter," Dobby replied with a grin.

"Will you show me where the laundry is?" he asked.

"This way," the elf squeaked, and led him through another door. The room behind the door was huge. There had to be at least a thousand other elves that Harry had never seen before running around between tubs and lines. Some were carrying sheets, some were hanging up robes, and others were folding towels.

"What is you needing, Harry Potter, Sir?" asked Dobby.

"I need a pair of shoes," he replied, slightly awed at the sight before him. "Are there any that have been left here?"

"Of course, Sir," the elf replied and led him along a wall. In one corner, there was a huge pile of miscellaneous robes, shoes, towels, sheets, bedspreads, socks, shirts, trrs, rs, skirts, dresses, and a thousand other things that made Harry wonder how they'd gotten there in the first place.

"God, where do I start?" he wondered aloud.

"What size is you looking for, Sir?"

"God, I never thought of that. Do you remember Draco Malfoy?" He knew he was running the risk of Dobby's rage, but that was the best he could think of at the moment's notice.

"Young Master was always being very nice to Dobby, Sir," Dobby told him with much pride.

"Do you know what size he might wear?"

"Of course, Sir!" He dove into the pile of clothes and surfaced a minute later with a pair of women's slightly worn black boots clutched in his fingers. "Is this what you is looking for?"

"That's perfect, Dobby! Thank you," he gushed as he took the boots from the elf and helped him out of the pile. "I've got to go right now, but I promise I'll be back later," he told Dobby. "Thank you so much."

"Dobby is always glad to be helping Harry Potter, Sir," the elf beamed as he led Harry back to the kitchen.

"Thanks again," he saidthe the rest of the elves bowed him out the door.

Sir Cadogan was in rare form when he reached the portrait.

"Hello, Good Sir," the knight hiccuped. He had a tankard in hisd and and he was sitting against one of the trees. "How goes it today?"

"Lovely, Cadogan," Harry replied, trying to keep it friendly so he wouldn't have to make Draco rescue him. "And how are you?"

"Smashing," he shouted. "Whatsa passing word?"

"Dirshner," Harry said. "Unless you've changed it again."

"No, not at all, Good Sir," Cadogan assured him. "Same's it always been. Right, right. Good day," he finished as he swung open.

"Honey, I'm home," Harry muttered as he entered the shared quarters.

"Why, love, I didn't know you felt that way," Draco drawled from his seat at the back table. "I missed you, too. Almost a whole day without you was very strange. I almost thought I had my own life again."

"So did I," Harry agreed. "But I did remember to get your homework," he said as he passed the small stack of parchments to the other boy.

"How was your day?" Draco asked as he looked over his homework. "How are we going to die today? You did have Divination, right?"

"Yeah. And we're not dying yet. We might have at least a little time left."

"What's the catch?"

"Much strife," he replied noncommittally. "How was your day?"

"Boring as all get out." Draco threw his papers on the table and stretched. "I think I really did miss you. I'm not used to spending so much time alone."

"Oh, and I was hoping it was because I bring so much joy and light to your otherwise dismal existence," Harry said with a small smile. "But the feeling is totally mutual."

"Weasley still mad at you?" Draco asked with a sigh.

"I'll give it another week before he finally gives in because he's sick of everyone hassling him for being an arse. Personally, I don't really care. I just don't have the energy to be that fucking petty." He flopped down on his bed, grateful to be away from Ron directly ignoring him. At least Draco could keep to himself. "Draco?"

"What?"

"Did you know about

"Why?" His tone was cold. Whatever reasons Harry had for asking that question worried him.

"I mean, I know that's not something you really want to talk about," Harry began, choosing his words carefully. "And I know that you don't really feel all that comfortable talking to me, but-"

"Don't make it out like you love talking to me," Draco said rather quietly. He didn't want to start an argument, but he couldn't stomach the idea of a holier-than-thou speech at the moment.

"But," the black-haired boy continued, ignoring his companion's interruption, "I was just wondering why you didn't say anything to me at all."

"Your parents are dead," Draco stated. Harry flinched, but allowed Draco to continue. "I didn't really feel like having a pity party when you've lived it every day."

Harry was stunned. Draco had actually admitted that he sympathised with him, if not in those exact words. He couldn't believe that he was not only admitting humanity, but that he was admitting real, human emotion. "Empathy and pity are two very different concepts, Draco."

"You don't pity me, then?"

"No."

"Good. I hate pity."

"Why?"

"What's the point? Nothing is going to change just because someone regrets what has happened to someone else. So far as I'm concerned, pity means regret and I don't believe in it," he said very simply. "I don't regret a single thing I've ever done. There's no point. Everything I've ever done has taught me something else about myself and I can't justify wanting that to be different."

"And the bond?" Harry asked.

"What about it?"

"Are you saying you're happy with being bound to another person, especially when that other person happens to be not only your own rival, but your father's worst enemy?"

"Happy would be the wrong word," he answered thoughtfully. "It doesn't bother me so much anymore. Perhaps I'm getting used to it. I don't know. If I could, would I change it? I don't know. Would you?"

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, ignoring the question.

"I've got no basis for comparison. There's the way it could have worked out in theory, but that's too far away for me to even speculate about. If you want to look at like that, I could be tied to you or serving Voldemort. Which would you choose?"

"You have the Mark. You were obviously prepared to serve him," Harry pointed out.

"True," Draco agreed. "But I didn't allow myself to think for myself. I wouldn't choose it. I never chose it. Perhaps in throwing in the towel like I did, I chose it. Even not making a choice is making a choice, you know? But that's all semantics, I would think. What's done is done. I am who I am. What more do you want me to say?"

"I guess I just don't understand," he admitted.

"What is there not to understand?"

"Look at it from my position," Harry started. "Last year when we went home, we were not on the best of terms and that's putting it lightly. Then I find out that I'm bound life and death to you for the rest of my life and yours. How am I supposed to take that? Then I don't see you for two months and when I do, you're a completely different person. I have no idea why. I'm not going to pry because you've not done it to me. But I have to admit that I'm puzzled as hell."

"Someday, when I figure out how to explain it to you, I promise I will," Draco replied. "I still don't know exactly how to explain it to myself yet, so you're just going to have to wait."

"Fair enough," Harry consented, answering after a small barn owl flew in through the open window and landed on his bed. It shrieked once and held its leg out for a letter to be detached.

"What's all this?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied as he took the letter off of the bird's leg. It flew away as he unfolded the parchment. He paled considerably. "Oh, dear," he mumbled.

"What?"

He didn't answer; he just stared at the letter as though it were his own death warrant. After a moment's pause, he handed it to Draco. It was from an unknown source telling of a narrow escape from Death Eaters and information for a meeting. Draco handed it back to him.

"Sirius almost died," Harry said very quietly as though he was in awe. He and Draco hadn't talked about Sirius much, but Draco knew the gist of the story. "He wants to meet me. He doesn't know."

Draco didn't have to ask what he didn't know. There was only one thing for him not to know. "I see," he finally said after a considerable silence.

"I don't know what to tell him," Harry continued. "What can I tell him? There's nothing I can say. He'll be furious."

"Just tell him you fell desperately in loveh meh me and to consummate our relationship, we bonded ourselves," Draco said, smirking to himself.

"Oh, that'd go over well," Harry said as he rolled his eyes. "God, it'll be difficult enough as it is without you trying to be cute in the meantime."

"Don't tell him it's me."

"I can't not tell him it's you. And really, Draco, that's the least of my worries."

"Then what are you so afraid of? I mean, he's been around, he's been through some pretty rough shit. He'll be able to deal. He's a big boy, I'm sure," he drawled as he sat back down at the table.

"Yeah. 'Hi, Sirius, I really missed you. Oh, everything's been going pretty good; I've got a nice girlfriend, I'm top of the class, and I'm bonded life and death to Draco Malfoy. How've you been?' I don't think so."

"But you don't have a nice girlfriend and you're not top of the class, so what's the issue? Unless t's s's something you're not telling me."

"Fuck off," he snapped as he rubbed his eyes. "You're not helping."

"I didn't know I was supposed to be," Draco said innocently. "Buck up, it'll be all right. Look at the bright side. At least you don't have to tell him you got some girl knocked up or that you've got some terminal illness or something and before you say it, being bonded to me doesn't qualify. You could beVoldemort or

"Will you meet him with me?" Harry interrupted.

"Come again?"

"I haven't come yet, how can I do it again?"

"Cute. What did you say? For real, I didn't catch that. I thought you asked me to meet your godfather with you," he said as he looked imploringly at his companion.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Well, we're kind of stuck together, you know? It might be kind of nice and ease the blow if you're there to catch him when he passes out from the shock," he said, eyes widening and brow sweating. "Jesus Christ, I am totally fucked beyond all hope."

"won'won't pass out from shock, Harry, be realistic. He'll probably just

"Pass out from shock. Please, Draco? I swear I won't ask anything else of you ever again if you just do this one thing for me, please?" Harry looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Of course you'll ask me to do something else for you in the future," Draco said. Quieter, he said, "But I'd do it even if you didn't."

"F-for real?" Harry gasped, not really comprehending the implications of that statement.

"Yes, for real!" exclaimed Draco. "Now drop it before I change my mind. When is all this supposed to happen?"

"Tomorrow. I'll talk to Dumbledore first. Thank you; you've saved me," he gushed.

"You're not going to tell him

"No, I wasn't planning on it," Harry replied. "It's going to be difficult enough to explain all this to him without bringing that up. Besides," he added almost as an afterthought, "I don't think that would earn you too many points with him."

Draco snorted. "That was a very astute observation, Harry. Did it hurt?"

"Immensely." He decided that he'd better give Draco his stolen boots before he insulted him further. "I picked these up for you," he said as he handed them over.

He graciously accepted the offering as though it were the greatest treasure he'd ever seen. "Where did you get these?" he breathed.

"A friend," he replied simply.

"Thanks, Harry. Really." He slipped one onto his right foot and began lacing it up.

"'S nothing," Harry mumbled, secretly very proud of himself despite the fact that they were made for a woman. "Just thought you could use some good news today."

"All I need now is some make-up and I could be a drag queen with all the women's clothing I've got," Draco laughed as he looked at his feet. "Thanks, Harry. Really. These are great."

"At least your robe's long enough to cover them so you won't be made fun of," Harry mentioned, now feeling slightly stupid for giving him women's shoes.

"I don't care," Draco said. "Let them make fun of me all they like. Least now I can go outside in the snow. Actually," he added as he continued staring at his feet, "I kind of like 'em. Show off my ankles quite nicely."

Harry silently agreed. Though he did think Draco's bare feet

"I should give you more credit," Draco continued, "for your taste in fashion. You're not as clueless as I thought you were."

"Gee thanks. And I suppose you're the expert?"

"Oh, not by far," he scoffed, missing the sarcasm. He finally looked up from his feet and grinned at Harry. "Thank you."

"Stop it," he laughed, feeling better about himself. "God, if I knew it would make you this happy, I would have found you some shoes long before now."

Draco's grin widened. "I knew it."

"You knew what?"

"You secretly like making me happy," he replied lightly as he shuffled through hiingsings some more.

Though he didn't realise it before then, Harry found that that was indeed the case. He pretended like he didn't hear Draco and disappeared into the bathroom.

*****

For what was probably the three hundred thousandth time that minute, Harry checked his watch. He and Draco Dumbledore's permission- were waiting outside an abandoned house in Hogsmeade for Sirius and had been for nearly fifteen minutes.

"Not very punctual; is he?" Draco noted.

Ignoring the question, Harry continued to pace. A million reasons for Sirius to be late ran through his mind, most of which ended in carnage and mayhem. The Death Eaters had already attacked him once; it could easily happen again. Or perhaps the Ministry caught up to him at last. Or-

"What are you doing here?" a low voice growled. Harry whirled around to find Sirius standing only feet in front of Draco and looking very intimidating. He was glaring at the boy with undisguised contempt and he looked like he was ready to pounce at any given moment.

"Sirius, this is Draco," Harry started, trying to keep the atmosphere from growing any more tense than it already was.

"I know who you are," he growled at Draco. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I have to tell you," Harry continued. Sirius finally looked to him. "It's kinda hard to explain." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Do you want me to?" Draco asked.

"No." Sirius held a silencing hand to the boy. "What's going on, Harry?"

"Promise me that you'll-"

"Promises, promises. Spill, Harry. Now," he finished menacingly.

"Draco and I are life bound," he muttered, defeated.

"What?" Sirius asked, disbelief in his voice. He looked at Draco. "What?"

"There's a life bond between us," Draco told him. "It binds us in flesh and blood and life and death."

Sirius sank to his knees. He stared blankly at nothing for a moment, processing this information. Finally, he looked up at Harry. "How did this happen?"

"We think it was a potion," Harry told him. "Someone slipped it to both of us it it bonded us. We didn't know."

"I should certainly hope not!" he roared. "Harry Potter, if you think it's romantic or dashing or something to bind yourself to-"

"We didn't know!" Draco shouted. "Neither of us knew. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't my fault. Do you think either of us wanted this!? Fucking idiot!"

"You don't have the slightest idea what we've been through!" Harry screamed at the same time. "You don't know the half of it!" As though to prove his point, he pulled his wand out and pointed it at his hand. "Secare," he said clearly and immediately blood started flowing from a gash in his hand. "Look!" he shouted as he held out Draco's hand to show that it was bleeding, too. "You don't have the slightest clue, Sirius! Romantic! Fucking idiot!" He seemed to realise what he'd done and immediately wrapped his handkerchief around Draco's hand. "Sorry," he told him, "I guess I got carried away."

Draco nodded and held the cloth tight. "It's okay. I'll get you back later," he grinned.

"This isn't funny!" Sirius shouted. "This isn't a joke."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and burst into gales of laughter. "This isn't a joke!" Harry laughed. "I didn't know that, Draco, did you?"

"What? It's for real? And all this time I thought it would just clear up if I washed it properly," Draco laughed back. "Jesus, this guy is good at stating the obvious."

The man on the ground was frozen in place. He was having a hard time trying to stomach the idea that these two boys were essentially the same person and the fact that they were laughing about it upset him quite completely. Of course the laughter wasn't a gesture of happiness or even amusement, it was hysterical and disbelieving. They were obviously going through the same thing in their minds that he was in his. "When did this happen?" he finally asked.

"End of last term," Draco told him. Harry was busy wiping the blood from his own hand with his robe.

"Four months!?" Sirius roared. "How long were you planning on waiting before you told me? Your wedding when you were both marrying the same girl?" he asked madly. He couldn't handle much more of this

"Oh, honestly," Harry admonished. "Marry the same girl! Sure, Sirius, I'm sure that's exactly what would happen."

"You don't know how he's been stewing over this," Draco told him. "He's been freaking out because he knew you were going to take it badly."

"How the hell else am I supposed to take it?" he demanded.

"You could make a more conscious effort at being reasonable," Draco replied. "You could listen to the whole story before you jump all over him."

Harry was a bit stunned. Draco was defending him to his godfather; the same godfather, in fact, that he'd tormented him on numerous occasions for having. Perhaps Draco really was turning around, he thought. "Look, Ss, Is, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I couldn't run the risk of sending you an owl and it didn't seem like a wise idea to have you come here when everyone from Voldemort to the Ministry is after you."

"That clearly wouldn't have stopped me," he said rather dryly.

"I'd rather have waited for you to suggest a meeting because you know how to take care of yourself better than I do," Harry told him.

"Yes, you've made that abundantly obvious," Sirius sighed.

"Oh, fuck off. You know what he means," Draco interjected. "Don't make this out like it was just a bad decision on our parts. It was a fluke. It was a mistake. Well, it was for us, anyway. I think it worked out just like they planned, excepting the part where I got away," he added thoughtfully. "But that's beside the point. The point is that this is the way it is, no one can change it and don't think we haven't tried, and so we best all just learn to live with it. I'm getting sick and fucking tired of being the only one who sees it this way. It could be a million times worse."

"Says my little ray of optimism," Harry half-laughed.

"Hey, we could be bound to sayFinnegan. That would be worse. Or Pansy or that weird Hufflepuff chick. I think she's got some really weird sexual attractions. Have you seen the way she comes to class on Mondays? God, it's a miracle no one-"

"Draco, would you please stop nattering? Just for a minute?" Harry asked, holding his hand up. "But you're right, it could be worse. We're both still alive and pretty much in good health, and that's more than a lot of people have," he told Sirius. "I'm not trying to hurt you, you know. But you've got a right to know."

"Who did this?" the older man growled. His sense of protectiveness over Harry seemed to have kicked in again. "Who is responsible?"

"You want the entire list?" Harry asked.

Ticking the names off on his fingers, Draco began listing them. "Voldemort, my father, Blaise Zabini, we think, Pansy Parkinson, we think, Crabbe, Goyle, and I think that's it, right?"

"Kids!" screamed Sirius. "They recruited kids!?"

"Oh, of course they did," Draco told him as though he were explaining nothing more than who forgot to bring the cakes for tea. "Honestly! Do you think they discriminate at all when it comes to followers?"

"They should!"

"You're right, they should. But they don't. They're powerful enough that that's like a luxury, you know. The job got done, so who cares? is their mentality," he replied.

"The point is, Sirius, that this is the way it is and will always be," Harry sighed. "There's nothing anyone can do about it. We're doing our best to make a decent go of it, you know, and it isn't all that easy."

"God, I wish your father was here," Sirius sighed as he tore at his hair. "He would know how to deal with this."

"Leave my father out of this," Harry growled. "He's dead. He's never coming back. Leave him out of it."

"And what about your parents?" he asked Draco, ignoring Harry.

"What about them? My father's probably the one who brewed the potion and my mother is dead," he answered stonily.

"Fuck me," he muttered, slapping himself on the forehead. "I'm sorry."

"It's done," Draco told him. "And I don't want to think about it anymore. That's neither here nor there, so forget it."

"So what other horrendous news do you have for me?" Sirius spat. "Don't tell me you've been expelled and have decided to join Lord Voldemort." He said the name very sarcastically. "Or maybe you've only got a month left to live? Are you werewolves, too? Should I be expecting some illegitimate child to surface?"

"Sorry, Sirius, I don't think that will be happening any time soon," Harry laughed. "Unless there's something Draco has failed to mention."

"It would only be by some freak occurrence of nature if I had a child, illegitimate or otherwise," he laughed back. "You've already gotten the worst of it." 'Except for the Mark on our arms,' he added mentally before immediately shaking off the thought.

Finally, Sirius stood up. He looked like he'd aged ten years over the course of their short meeting and he felt it even more. "Okay," he sighed. "I'm going to go have a heart attack in peace now."

"Sirius, please don't do this to me," Harry whined.

"I'm not mad at you, Harry," he assured him. "I'm not."

"But you're mad at him," he said, pointing at Draco.

He seemed to give this some thought. "No," he finally said, "I'm not mad at him, either. I'm just

"I know," he assured his godfather as he squeezed him back. "It's okay."

"Please take care of yourself."

"I will."

"If you ever need me for anything-"

"-write to you. I know. But would you please let me go, Sirius? I'm losing the feeling in my arms."

Sirius released him, but still had the apprehension etched into every line of his face. "You're sure you're going to be okay?"

"I've made it this far, I can make it further," he said with a grin. "Please stop worrying; I'm going to be fine."

"I know." He finally smiled back. "I know you are."

"We've got to get back to Hogwarts now," he said, giving Sirius a final hug. "I'll be in touch."

"All right." The boys started walking away, but he stopped them. "Draco? Can I have a word with you?"

He looked to Harry, who nodded that it would be okay, and walked over to Sirius. He looked over his shoulder and saw Harry meandering away from them. "What's the matter?" he asked the older man, apprehension apparent in his tone.

"I'm not going to warn you about hurting my godson," he started, trying to keep it light, "because there's no point. I just think that if you're really going to be in this situation, I should probably get to know you, too." Draco almost had a heart attack himself, but kept quiet. "I'm going to try to give you the benefit of the doubt. But you've got to understand that where you come from and how I feel about Harre vee very much in conflict with one another."

"I understand that and I understand that where I come from made a certain kind of person out of me. But I'm trying really sodding hard not to be that way," he said almost pleading. "I'm trying really hard to be good."

"I'm sure you are, son," Sirius laughed. "So I'm willing to give you a shot, like I said. Just make sure you're careful." He looked at Draco almost like he'd looked at Harry, like he was worried and almost like he cared for him. Draco was slightly disturbed by this because no one Sirius swept him into his arms. "Take care of him," he muttered. "Please just make sure he's okay."

"I will."

He let go of the small boy. "You can write to me, if you'd like. Just address it to Snuffles."

"O-okay," Draco sputtered, shocked beyond shock.

"And since I know Harry doesn't like to tell me things he should tell me when they actually happen, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me posted."

"I will."

"And

Too shocked to say anything else, he just nodded. Sirius waved to Harry and disappeared behind the cottage. When he'd finally caught up to the other boy, Draco asked, "So, does he have like

"No," Harry laughed. "He's just a Gemini."

"In other words, yes, he does have multiple personality disorder."

"You're one to talk," Harry said.

"I don't have multiple personalities!" Draco exclaimed indignantly.

"All right, you're just moodier than Parvati and Lavender combined," he conceded. "When they're on the rag," he added with a grin.

"If I didn't know I'd just be hurting myself, I'd hit you for that."

"It's never stopped you before. Ouch! See?" Harry rubbed at his arm.

"Serves you right," Draco said haughtily.

"Wanker."

"Fuckin' child."

"Hey, Draco?"

"Hey what?"

"Thanks."