Reading Time: 77 Minutes

Title: Enduring
Author: MykkiTno
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Contemporary, Drama, Family, Fantasy, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal/Supernatural
Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Domestic, Violence-Against Children, Abuse-Child, Discussion-Child Abuse, Dubious Consent(magical bonds without a discussion but still wanted), Non-Con(magical Control and coercion), Mild Sexual Content, Homophobia, Disturbing Imagery, character bashing, magic withdrawal, magic addiction, non-consensual magic use. Discussion on drug usage(potions) and withdrawal. Major Character Death (canonical death, but in a non-canonical way)
Alpha: I need to thank three people for their patience and help in wrangling this massive work into a cohesive whole, Hourstillnoon, Vi and Kait for their unfailing feedback and support. They let me natter and plot out loud or suffer when I panic and send a quick blurb asking if it made sense, and their fast responses mean everything to me. SO thanks!
Word Count: 88,647
Summary: During Yule of Harry’s fifth year, he finds something in the Chamber of Secrets that answers questions he hadn’t realized he had, but he keeps the knowledge hidden until he can’t anymore. Resorting to Dark Magic isn’t something he thought he’d do, but the changes it wrought aren’t ones he regrets because the alternative would have made things worse.
Artist: CoCo

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Chapter Four

Harry had the vague idea that waking shouldn’t have been a slow process, but for once, he wasn’t in overwhelming pain, covered in blood and vomit or other bodily fluids. He was feeling somewhat refreshed, if not weak like he’d been drained, though given the wards around the room he was a prisoner in, that was what it felt like.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he started to realize that he didn’t hear his aunt, uncle, or cousin. There was no noise from the TV or rattling of dishes in the kitchen, and the ever-present hum indicated that his prison felt different. It was warm and comforting, almost as if cradling him in a net of safety, the sensation causing his eyes to sting.

The coolness of the statin sheets finally seemed to register against his naked skin, and he shivered a little, not understanding where his clothing was. He’d never slept naked before, sometimes using every piece of clothing he owned to stay warm as a child as he curled around a thin, moth-eaten blanket that had more holes than fabric.

A soft and familiar whisper turned his head, but his eyes refused to open as heat seeped into the blankets, wrapping around the magic that cradled him. Harry relaxed against the solid body, the sense of safety overriding the knowledge that someone wrapped arms around him, holding him close as he fell asleep.

Each time he woke after that, it was to a soft voice, pleading and whispering reassurance at every turn. Sometimes, it was to swallow as things were poured down his throat, another was a warm cloth cleaning the sweat from his body, but more often than not, it was arms wrapping around him and promising him he was safe as the nightmares were chased away.

Finally, after countless instances of sleep-waking, Harry woke, blinking his eyes as he took in the sunlight room, the rich and old dark oak furniture the first indication he was not at Private Drive. The second indication was the magic thrumming through the air, dancing in the sunlight that spilled on the floor and hit the end of the bed, warming his feet. The magic felt alive and joyful, embracing him like what he thought a lover would feel like, and the thought made him swallow, memories rushing in, threatening to overwhelm him. The fight with Uncle Vernon, Draco’s miraculous appearance, the resulting personality switch he fought to keep under control emerging, and the explosion of overwhelming force for not only his mate but his soulmate’s safety if anyone had found him there.

Twisting his head, Harry’s eyes hit blond hair, fanned across the dark satin sheets. He blinked, hand shaking violently, as he reached across the small space towards the teen that slept beside him. Exhaustion made his complexion more grey than normal, with dark circles under his eyes he knew to be silver. He felt a flush of regret that he might be the cause of Draco’s appearance.

A brief flash of embarrassment lit his face, the realization that he was naked under the sheets, meaning someone had to have seen his body, but that thought drifted away as he continued to stare.

There was something different about the teen beyond general exhaustion. He looked so young sleeping beside him, but there was a sparkle to his skin that hadn’t been there at the end of the term or noticed at his relative’s house. It was more than that, though; Draco had always been taller than him, even if it had only been an inch or so at the beginning, but somewhere around the third year, Draco shot up, topping him by almost a foot. Harry had stayed the same, short, but at least having consistent meals for 10 months of the year; he’d gained some weight; Harry knew he was still skinny but no longer felt like he looked like a refugee from a detention camp. Looking at Draco now, he saw more differences. The sparkle was still evident, but his face was softer and less angler, though Draco still had his pointy little chin. There was a sense of wonder as Harry stared at him, wanting to wrap the other man in his arms and protect him from the world, making him blush and shift uncomfortably, knowing he wouldn’t be able to protect a radish right now, never mind the angelic beauty beside him, having overtaxed everything in his mad dash around the country.

Guilt clawing at him, Harry tore his eyes away and glanced around the sunny room again, catching sight of the invisibility cloak tossed over the back of a chair, with his school trunk somewhat more charred than previously. Indicating that some of the taunting from the door had been accurate, Vernon had attempted to set it on fire.

Feeling the body twitch beside him, Harry looked over instantly, swallowing at the wrinkle between Draco’s brow, feeling the nightmare building.

Before thinking it through, Harry reached out, shocked by how weak he felt as his hand hit the pillow next to Draco’s head—a whimper caught in Harry’s throat, angry that he couldn’t do more.

Draco’s head jerked up, his eyes sleepy as he reached over the bed. His voice was as soft as Harry remembered: ” It’s alright, love. It’s a dream. You’re safe.”

“Only because of you,” Harry whispered his voice cracking, making him wince at the dryness. Memories surfaced abruptly at what Draco had seen when he’d arrived to rescue him.

Draco’s head snapped to meet his eyes, excitement and happiness flaring in them, though he couldn’t hide the fear or nervousness either. “You’re awake?”

Harry blinked a little at what felt like a somewhat redundant question, feeling dread and nausea war in his stomach, “ho-how long?”

Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbed a wary hand down his face, and answered the question honestly, “Almost a week.”

Horrified, Harry stared at his soulmate, tears filling his eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

Draco smiled shyly and shook his head, “Uncle Severus explained what happened; he said that you burnt yourself and your reserves out and cautioned that even trying to cast a simple Lumos for at least a week might cause a reaction headache.”

Groaning, Harry covered his head with a hand. “I figured, is there anything else?”

Feeling Draco lean over him, Harry lowered his arm, a blush climbing his cheeks at the expression on Draco’s face, “he healed the injuries not taken care of by the Health Potion, then prescribed a treatment plan for the rest of the summer.” The young wizard paused and licked his lips, “he’s not sure if it’s possible to correct the damage done to you, but said it was worth a shot as it will trigger another maturation, which could boost the physical changes,”

Nodding absently, Harry gazed at Draco, searching his eyes, “what about you?”

“I’m OK.“

“You look terrible. You’re still pretty, but you’re obviously exhausted. You have bags under your eyes, and you feel….” Harry trailed off, pulling back into the pillow as he stared at his soulmate in horror. “I’ve been draining you.”

“No, I’ve been sharing.” Draco corrected quickly and then moved, lying beside him, trapping Harry for the moment. “Hey, listen. I don’t think you understand how terrifyingly close it was, so I asked Severus, and he walked me through opening a small trickle. There are no side effects beyond a little lingering exhaustion.”

Harry glanced at Draco, still feeling horrible that he had unintentionally hurt his mate. Blinking, he touched Draco’s face with the tip of his fingers. “I can see you.”

A small smile tugged at Draco’s lips as he sat up, “Uncle Severus repaired the eye damage and promised to find out why it wasn’t offered to you when you started at Hogwarts during your intake exam.”

Frowning, Harry copied him. Exhausted, feeling like every muscle had atrophied from lack of use, he collapsed against the pillows, muttering tiredly, “That’s easy. I didn’t have an intake exam.”

“What? But you—you had to. It’s the law. Every muggle-born is supposed to go to St.Mungo’s and complete the intake, which includes inoculations that affect muggle-borns.”

Shaking his head, Harry’s eyes flicked longingly to the door halfway across the room, the mirror telling him what the room was. “I’m not sure what to tell you, love, but the first time I visited St.Mungo’s was Yule after Ron’s father was attacked.”

Darting a glance at Draco when his soulmate said nothing but stared at him, Harry bit his lip, but the urgency of his bladder made him push past his embarrassment, “Draco, can you help me to the bathroom?”

Draco’s flamed red as he swallowed hard. However, he rose from the bed with a nod, snagging a dressing gown off the chair.

Accepting it, Harry pulled it on and tied it closed before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself to his feet. A feat he regretted instantly as black spots appeared in his vision, and the only thing that saved him was Draco taking most of his weight.

“Steady, I got you.”

Feeling an arm slide around his waist, Harry took a breath and stepped forward, feeling like he was fighting a battle just to get his legs to agree. It felt like forever, but they got to the bathroom. Draco got him situated near the toilet before turning his back, giving Harry as much privacy as possible.

Glancing at the shower when he finished, Harry desperately wanted to step inside and wash the last few weeks off but didn’t know if he had the energy.

“Do you want help with a shower?” Draco asked softly, cheeks still tinged pink.

“I….” Harry trailed off and flushed, admitting equally soft, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Draco demanded, back stiffening in offence.

Leaning against the counter as he dried his hands, Harry raised an eyebrow incredulously.

Draco flushed crimson, hunched his shoulder, and laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, that was a dumb suggestion. I just….” He trailed off helplessly, “Fighting these instincts is harder than I thought.”

“It’s probably going to get stronger living together,” Harry warned, slumping against the counter, feeling like whatever energy he had acquired suddenly disappeared.

A warm arm wrapped around his waist, Draco’s voice rumbling in his chest as he shifted Harry’s weight and led him forward, “Let’s skip the shower for now and use a cleaning charm, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Harry agreed; around a yawn, he tried to deflect into his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

“Let’s get you back to bed, and you can eat before you nap,” Draco whispered, nuzzling his hair. He deposited him onto the bed and waved his hand to summon a set of pyjamas.

Gratefully, Harry accepted them, wordlessly accepting the help when his limbs refused to cooperate. He knew he should fight to stay awake to eat, but standing to pull the pants up took the last of his energy. He was already half asleep when he felt Draco tuck him back into bed, brushing a kiss over his forehead with a whisper of reassurance.

***

It was the absence of a body next to his that woke Harry. His hand automatically reached out to touch, encountering an empty space beside him.

Eyes snapping open, he jerked his head to look around the room, noting the darkening sky—not quite dark—and found Draco curled in the window seat, with a large book on his lap and a floating table to the side. He was scratching notes on parchment and felt himself relax.

It wasn’t a dream.

Inhaling on a rush of emotion, Harry released it slowly and then coughed at the dryness in his throat.

Silver eyes stared down at him a second later, holding a glass of water. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Easing into a lounging position, Harry accepted the water and sipped, “Overwhelmed and starving.”

A sympathetic expression crossed Draco’s face, “I have no advice for the first, but I can get food if you want?”

Nodding, Harry finished the glass as Draco called out a name, “Folly.”

A second later, a house elf dressed in a neat little dress popped into the room, big eyes shining with happiness at seeing Harry and bobbing a curtsey, “Master Harry, and Master Draco calls.”

“Please bring Harry a tray of light foods Uncle Severus approved,” Draco asked politely.

“Does Master Draco wish for a snack too?” Folly asked before popping away as Draco nodded.

Taking the glass back, Draco tilted his head, “Do you need help getting to the bathroom again?”

Harry frowned as he assessed his energy levels, hesitantly shaking his head, “No, I don’t think so, but keep an ear out ‘cause I might need help getting back.”

Helping Harry out of bed, Draco stepped back and let him make his way to the bathroom, staying outside but within hearing distance.

Harry used the bathroom and washed his hands, snagging a cloth to wash his face, eyeing the shower with longing before making his way from the room and towards the table beside the fireplace where Draco was fussing over the tray of food. “it’s just a light repast, I don’t think it’s a good idea to overload your stomach, but you do need real food, potions are only going to do so much.”

Stomach growling, Harry sank into a chair without arguing, already anticipating what was under the lid based on the scent alone.

When Draco removed the lid, his eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced up at Draco, “This is light?”

Smiling, Draco set the tray to the side and gestured to the bowl, “Yes, now eat unless you want help.”

Face flaming, Harry dropped his eyes, surprised at the array of food that was considered ‘light.’ Porridge with mixed berries floated in a layer of thick cream, some sort of herbed bread that smelled like heaven, and a rich yellow butter still melting at the edges, sat on the edge of a plate that held scrambled eggs and two slices of ham and a ration of hash-browns. A tall glass of orange juice stood in place of pumpkin juice, which Harry was thankful for, and a small pot of tea, hesitantly picking up the spoon, noticing the slight tremble in his hands. Dipping it into the berry-rich porridge, Harry started to eat, savouring every bite. Porridge had been nothing like this when growing up, often a congealed, tasteless lump.

It was only as he was scraping the bowl clean and contemplating licking it that Harry realized he was done. He felt a flush burn his cheeks as he set the spoon down, shifting the plate around to start in the eggs.

They ate in silence, but not the weird, awkward stretches that Harry had expected; it felt comfortable in a way Harry had never experienced before, and it did more to calm his nerves than anything.

It was only when Draco set down his spoon from eating his snack that Harry spoke.

“I know we have lots to discuss, but can I ask a question?”

Draco jerked his eyes back to Harry’s and nodded.

“What triggered your Veela half?” Harry blurted, flushing, “I know your birthday was last month when it should have come out, but it-it didn’t, and I don’t understand.”

Sighing, Draco set the teacup back down and ran a hand through his hair, “I was disowned.”

Startled, Harry drew back, thumbing the heir ring with a frown, “Oh, that-what? How-why does that have anything to do with it?”

A flat, bitter smile crossed Draco’s face as he shrugged, “I didn’t know.”

Harry mouthed his words, copying them, and shook his head in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“The Veela half was hidden from me. My mother knew I was half Veela when I was born and hid that. She was terrified of what Lucius would do, and everything was perfect for the first nine years.” Draco responded softly, “I can’t say he was a nice man, but he treated me kindly until he attempted to sign a betrothal contract. Upon the failure, the family magics figured out the spell woven to hide what I was linked to the Heir Ring.“ Draco licked his lips, “he was livid, and so was the Malfoy family magic. They bound and subdued the Veela half together, anchoring it to the ring I never took off after my ninth birthday.” A pale, self-loathing smirk crossed his face, “I remember being so proud that I was given my ring a year early that I lorded it over the guests for the rest of the day; that night, my father started my training.”

Feeling a flare of rage at Lucius Malfoy and a possessive spark for Draco, Harry reached across the table and covered his soulmate’s hand. ” You didn’t deserve that.”

A weak smile creased Draco’s lips, “I know, but that’s what happened. As for what happened to awaken it, Sirius and I were talking when I arrived here on the last day of school. He’d just finished showing me the family tree, which is how I learned your ancestry…. I knew immediately that there was something between us, and I was overcome with guilt and grief, but both Sirius and Severus said it protected me from the pain of the disownment. Without the ring locking the Veela away…” Draco trailed off with a swallow, “I knew and felt you, this bright shining star that wouldn’t let go, even when you sleep.”

“I have to protect you.” Harry muttered, cheeks red, “I want it; it’s an honour that you’re mine.” He snorted and shrugged apologetically, “Not to make you sound like you’re a possession, because that’s not what I mean, just magic thinks we’re perfect for each other. It’s humbling and heartbreaking because I’ve never had that before; this is undeniable proof that I’m worthy of having love. That I’m not a freak-“

“You’re not a freak.” Draco snapped, glaring, “You didn’t do enough to punish your relatives for their intolerable treatment and behaviour.”

“Are you sure about that?” Chuckling, Harry withdrew his hand and picked up the teacup Draco had filled for him. He took a sip, his face grimacing at the taste but refusing to request coffee or, better yet, hot chocolate. If his mate wanted him to drink tea, he’d bloody well drink tea, however much it reminded him of swamp water.

Frowning, Draco’s eyes flicked between his and the teacup before he folded his arms. “There wasn’t enough screaming.”

“I wasn’t going to torture them physically, Draco.” Harry responded dryly, knowing mate didn’t actually want him to resort to that behaviour, “I’m better than that. The same goes for killing them. I told the truth that letting them live without knowing the future consequences is more than enough punishment.”

“You also said they wouldn’t remember why,” Draco replied cautiously.

“I did.” Harry replied carefully, shoulders slumping, “and I meant it.” He paused and took a deep breath, admitting softly, “I modified their memories using a combination of blood magic and parseltongue.“

Draco froze, eyes lifting to his, but at the very last second, Harry jerked his head away, unwilling to see the condemnation in his soulmate’s eyes.

Warm fingers touched his face, tipping it up, forcing him to meet his gaze.

The pure, unreserved understanding in Draco’s silver eyes hit Harry like an avalanche, and he surged up, claiming Draco’s lips hungrily. The need for food was forgotten as Draco wrapped his arms around him and gave back everything he was.

***

Hours later, the echo of a clock rang out at midnight. The two teens snuggled together on the bed, Harry’s head on Draco’s chest, his long, pale fingers combing his hair absentmindedly.

The calm, steady reassurance filling the room and filtering through the bond made Harry nuzzle his nose against the silk shirt Draco wore.

“It’s from a book I found in Salazar’s study,” he paused and licked his lips. “By definition, it’s dark magic, probably one of the reasons parselmouths are so feared. Salazar cautioned me about the book, telling me that even if the spells aren’t known as they’re both blood magic and parselmouth, it’s still a good idea to avoid casting them unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

Thankfully, Draco didn’t say anything; he continued to exhibit a calm that meant more than any worded responses he could offer. Harry couldn’t help but cuddle closer and admit, “I shouldn’t have cast it on my relatives, but I don’t regret it either. They deserve so much more.”

A hum of agreement rumbled in his ear, the fingers continuing their mindless combing, but Harry lifted his head. ” It’s the third spell I cast.”

His soulmate stilled briefly, eyes fluttering shut, “when?”

“The ministry and the wards at the Dursley’s.” Harry admitted roughly when Draco opened his eyes again, “Sirius was duelling with Bellatrix, and it was like I saw him get hit and tumble through the Veil,” he shifted until he was sitting and rubbing a rough hand down his face “it pissed me off, and reacted before I could think.” He shrugged, swallowing the anger, “As for the wards, Dumbledore tied them to my magic, with loyalty charms woven in.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Draco asked quietly.

Shaking his head, Harry ran a hand through his hair, “No. I didn’t trust anyone with the knowledge; they might not be classified by today’s standards, but they are dark magic.”

Draco winced and then shifted into a sitting position. “They might be dark in the sense it’s blood magic, but the defining difference is in the blood acquired.“

Harry rolled his eyes, raising a skeptical brow, “I’m pretty sure light wizards would argue the execution and claim the beginning doesn’t excuse the means. They’d still condemn me as dark.”

“No, probably not, but I was raised by a dark wizard, Harry. One that revelled in the torture of victims. You’re not like that; even though you don’t regret what you did, you still consider it with disgust; you’d never be willing to torture someone or use another’s blood.” Draco frowned and rubbed his eyes, “I’ve found in my experience the classification of light and dark is based on bullshit. Our society is built on the need to define and divide so someone can be blamed easily.”

“Or they use me.” Harry huffed bitterly and lay back down. “Can I ask what we need to do next? I know we need to wait until my birthday.”

Draco copied him, rolling to his side so he could face him, playing with a button on his shirt. “Well….” Draco trailed off, blushing, admitting, “This is a little presumptuous of me.”

Harry shrugged; strangely, he was relieved by what he would have considered Draco’s high-handed behaviour years ago. The snooty superiority that he was better than everyone else because, in this instant, Harry knew that to be fundamentally true. He had a vague idea of the power associated with his inheritance but honestly hadn’t wanted to know the titles when he had the chance. The understanding that they were old and considered extinct already felt heavy and uncomfortable, which had just meant another reason for people to look at him strangely, and he had enough of that already.

Smiling at the worried expression that grew on Draco’s face, Harry reached up a hand, thumbing his cheek. “Be as presumptuous as you want, I—” he flushed. “Honestly, I have no idea what to expect when I claim my titles; I just know there are multiples.” His flush deepened as Draco stared at him in growing horror and defended himself: “I didn’t want to know.”

“Didn’t want to know?” Draco squeaked, “But-but you told your relatives they’ll know when the newspaper arrives!”

“I-yeah, I did, but-but the ring.” Harry lifted his hand, “Medea is embedded into the Heir ring. She told me to say it.”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry.” Draco shook his head, eyes wide, and then ran a hand over his face.

Harry froze, eyes on Draco’s wrist, and reached out to grasp the limb, running a reverent finger across the silver band. He’d known they were soulmates, but he’d forgotten they’d been marked, “legends have it that the start of a soulmate bond is silver; sometimes it only stays silver, but sometimes it turns-“

Harry cut himself off, eyes filling with tears as the silver turned gold, and snapped to Draco’s, who flushed and shrugged, finishing for him by caressing the gold band. “It turns gold with the acknowledgement and acceptance of the bond.”

Draco, rubbing a thumb under Harry’s eye and brushing away a tear, said, “I want it. I don’t care about your titles, inheritance, or my lack of one. I don’t care what you’ve done to protect yourself or will do in the future. You’re all that I want, Harry.“

Sniffling, Harry rubbed his hand across his nose, causing Draco to pull back in exasperated disgust. He airily summoned a Kleenex, “You peasant.”

Accepting it, Harry blew his nose, eyes caressing the sight of the matching gold band, and a giddy grin broke free. “It’s real.”

“Yeah, it is.” Draco whispered in agreement, biting his lip, “No regrets?”

“Never.” Harry declared vehemently, “No one is tearing us apart.”

Draco drew in a breath, “Alright, not to be a pessimist, but we need to continue the research I started on what soul bonded and mates mean. I can’t be accused of line interference, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t try that route.”

“Is that something we need to be worried about?” Harry asked, not understanding completely.

Draco nodded, admitting, “It’s a concern, but there is more.” Draco’s eyes flit over his face, eyes burning with an intensity Harry couldn’t identify, and when he spoke, there was an odd detachment in his tone.

“Start with the reasons it’s a concern.” Harry prompted.

“The Weaselette believes she’s marrying you,” Draco stated bluntly. “When Granger pointed out that you had never paid attention to her in that way, she brushed it off and alluded to the usage of potions to sway you.”

Jerking in revolution, Harry shook his head. “It’s not happening. Even if she attempted a love potion, the ring would counter it.”

Draco inclined his head, “They don’t know that, though Granger threatened to inform your Godfather, the Weasley siblings prevented that, the youngest by freezing her, and Weasel by obliviating her.” Draco clamped a hand around his wrist as he sat up, “Let me finish.”

Glaring at him, Harry drew in a breath and nodded.

“Sirius has given her a family Heirloom, either at Medea’s insistence or based on his observations. She’s safe and biding her time, letting them think it worked.”

Releasing a shaky breath, Harry nodded and laid back down. “Is that the only concern?”

“No, there were claims that a betrothal contract was signed with Sirius’s signature,” Draco admitted softly.

“It’s fake,” Harry whispered softly. “Just like the contract your father attempted to sign, this one would be invalid, too. Magic knows bonds, acknowledged or not.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t attempt something anyway,” Draco replied bitterly.

“We could have a contract drawn up for us,” Harry offered, smiling as Draco snapped his eyes to his. “It would probably calm the turmoil your Veela half is experiencing.”

“I….” Draco frowned, “Are you sure it’s not the soulbond?”

“No, but I don’t know much about them. At least nothing that isn’t instinctive.” Harry admitted, summoning a glass the glass of water, “I know Hermione did more research and shared some of the basics, but I was more concerned with staying alive in the fourth year.”

An amused chuckle left Draco as he rolled to his stomach, laying his head on his arms, “which is fair. Though you flew beautifully against the dragon, it was a somewhat intense year.”

Draining the glass, Harry set it on the bedside table, snorting, “I’m more annoyed that I didn’t know Dragons understood parsaltongue until last year. It would have made that task much simpler.”

Draco opened his mouth in confusion, “What?”

“I learned from Salazar that I could have just talked to the Dragon during the first task,” Harry stated and grinned. “I’ve had dreams where I did, and everyone lost their minds, claiming I cheated. They’re probably the only pleasant dreams from that time.”

Draco chuckled as Harry flushed, “Anyway, soulmates are theorized to be a gift from Hecate, a reward for the faithful. It’s rare today, but everyone still knows the stories and prays they’ll be chosen.”

“Did you?” Harry asked softly.

Shrugging, Draco shifted, stuffing the pillow under his head, “As a kid? Every day, sometimes twice. I was obsessed with the stories of Arthur and Merlin. As I grew older, and my mother’s influence was diminished by my father’s involvement, I buried it deep inside, no longer believing I was worthy of the honour.”

“Draco?” Harry whispered softly.

“My father started my training the year I turned nine, Harry. It- it wasn’t pleasant. They were survival lessons.” Draco lifted his head, eyes glistening as he met Harry’s, “I was ten the first time I cast Cruciatus….” He shrugged helplessly at Harry’s horrified gasp, “My father said the muggle deserved it being a thug, but it was still horrible either way, not that it mattered. Neither of us had any defence. It’s also when I stopped believing I was worthy.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to that, but the expression on Draco’s face made him heartbroken. Draco offered a small shrug, “From what I read in the books, the first six weeks can be periods of clinginess, the need to touch or be touched. It’ll help the possessiveness that comes from being a Veela mate.”

“But I-“ Harry cut himself off and shook his head, “I still don’t understand.”

A light blush climbed Draco’s cheeks. “It’s a two-fold bond, soul and mate. We can sense each other’s emotions and feelings, but it’ll grow with close proximity, and you’ll be able to tell if I’m injured or in danger….” Draco trailed off, shrugging self-consciously. “I’m sure there’s more, but I haven’t really had time to read, and I haven’t asked my mother.”

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, licking his lips before asking hesitantly, “Does she disapprove?”

“I don’t know.” Draco admitted, adding softly hurt coating his tone, “She’s not exactly happy with me, but she’s helping create a plan for education befitting a noble.”

A yawn emerged from Harry, making Draco smile softly, “we should get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Harry yawned again and shook his head, “No, we have too much-“

“Hush, love,” Draco whispered, cheeks tinged with colour, not that he took back the words.

A giddy grin spread across Harry’s face at the endearment. He snuggled closer, rubbing his face against Draco’s chest. “It feels like this should be weirder than it is.”

Draco murmured in agreement, chuckling softly, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll get weirder when the jealous, possessive monster rears its head, refusing to let anyone near me either.”

“Great, just another thing to make me different.” Harry groaned as he pulled the blanket over them.

“Most people would be proud to be the mate of a veela.” Draco offered haughtily.

“I am,” Harry responded instantly, adding somewhat exasperatedly, ” It’s still weird, though. I didn’t know if I could trust that it would happen.” He gazed at Draco in confusion and wonder, “I’m unbelievably happy it has.”

“I’m happy too,” Draco replied in a soft whisper, smoothing the blankets with one hand, “I know you want to talk more, but you need sleep too.”

Chuckling, Harry yawned, eyes slipping closed as a hand combed through his hair, lulling him to sleep before he could respond.

***

A soft cooing brought Harry out of a dead sleep, and he sat up instantly. “Hedwig.”

The snowy owl cooed again and fluttered from the perch near the window, landing on the bed with a little hop as she approached, eyeing him sideways.

“She showed up this morning with a letter,” Draco offered as he emerged from the bathroom, nodding to the corner. Folly set up the perch, found the nesting box, and magicked the window so it would open for her to hunt if it was closed.”

Reaching out, Harry let Hedwig sniff his hand before caressing her head. He was horrified to feel tears fill his eyes, “When the term ended, and I got home, I had to fight with her to leave.” Harry wiped at the tears that refused to fall, “I was terrified my uncle would kill her, just because I loved her.”

“But he didn’t, Harry..” Draco responded softly, sitting on the bed, caressing the snowy owl’s head, laughing as she nipped playfully at his fingers. “She’s such an odd bird.”

“She was my first friend ever,” Harry admitted, ignoring the odd comment and addressing the bird. “Did you have trouble finding me?”

Hedwig chittered at him heatedly, puffing up her feathers as she hopped onto his covered knee.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t take the risk, no matter how much I appreciate the vision you offer.” Harry replied with a grin, “Did Hermione take good care of you?”

Hedwig chittered at him again, ruffling her feathers and rolling her eyes, before turning to look at Draco, whose mouth fell open. This made Harry laugh and glance at the table stacked with books. “No, sweetheart. They’re not hatchlings. They just have the same work ethic.”

“Are you having a conversation with your bird?” Draco demanded, then frowned and turned a bewildered expression on the owl. “Did your owl just ask if I was related to Hermione Granger?”

“Hmmm.” Harry agreed, scratching the owl’s neck, “She said you have the same habit of getting lost in a tome and not realizing the time…” Harry patted the owl’s head again, nudging her off his lap. He grabbed the robe from earlier, pulled it on, and left the bed.

Stopping in front of Draco, Harry smiled at Draco’s expression, “You know being compared to Hermione isn’t bad, right?”

“I know that.” Draco snapped, face falling immediately at his reaction, “Sorry-I, bad memories.”

Reaching out, Harry took Draco’s hand and squeezed it in response to the apology. “Let me use the bathroom, then we can talk, alright?”

Swallowing hard, Draco nodded, averting his gaze, though he did return the pressure before letting go.

Harry watched him for a minute, gathering the papers in a neat pile, face contemplative as he moved to sit at the table, calling Folly’s name.

As Folly appeared, Harry moved into the bathroom, using the toilet and washing his hands and face. He was still finding it weird to see without glasses.

When he entered the bedroom again, Folly was just setting the tray down, her face serious as she listened to whatever Draco was saying. It didn’t take long for the elf to nod happily, “I is able to do that, Master Draco. Do you have an outfit in mind, or is you wanting Folly to choose?”

“The one for the bank is dark emerald green, with black under robes and silver cloak, but you may pick four or five others that can be tailored until we can acquire more,” Draco responded, eyeing the tray as the elf lifted the lid.

“What about yous, master Draco?” Folly asked, ears wiggling with excitement.

“The black and silver embroidered robes,” the teen replied, absently catching sight of Harry standing there unsure.

Draco rose fluidly to his feet and paced forward, the elf popping away without a word, only for the sound to echo from the adjoining closet as a light flicked on. Draco smiled shyly and held out a hand, “Come, let’s eat.”

Eyeing the closet, where he could see the elf’s figure darting around, Harry swallowed nervously. “What was that I overheard?”

Draco flushed but didn’t answer until Harry was sitting. “It’s somewhat presumptuous of me, but given your status, you don’t have the clothing necessary to fit that role, so I asked Folly to make some alterations.”

Harry blinked and groaned, “I’m really going to regret not asking questions about that, aren’t I?.”

Draco smirked as he lifted a plate of the same fare he’d eaten last night and set it in front of Harry, “You could say that.”

Harry nodded, took a bite of food, mulled over what Draco said, and flushed hard before asking hesitantly, “Can you give me a hint?”

Draco paused briefly, lifting a warning eyebrow, “It’ll probably make you spiral.”

Swallowing, Harry dropped his gaze to the porridge, “I’ll wait.”

“I’m hoping we can get Pansy here shortly after your birthday because she has an eye for fashion that even I lack. If given carte blanche, she’d be in heaven,” Draco said with a smirk at Harry’s wide-eyed look.

“You trust Pansy?” Harry asked, then added hastily, “With me?”

Thankfully, Draco didn’t take offence and smiled, thumbing his bond mark, “I trust Pansy with my life, Harry like you trust Hermione.“

Harry chewed another mouthful of food and glanced at the end table with his medication, “I forgot to take my-“

Draco set his fork down and rose to his feet, crossing the room and coming back with two vials. ” It’s alright; we remembered. Take them now, and then finish eating.”

Harry’s nose twitched as he drained the vials, handing them back one at a time. He then waited for Draco to sit again before continuing the previous conversation: “I do trust Hermione with my life, but I’m honestly not sure how she’s going to take our bond.”

Draco shrugged as if it couldn’t be helped. “That’s true, but you said she researched soulmates at one point.”

“Ah, yeah, fourth year, during one of the research binges she went on when helping me with the second task.” Harry frowned and added, “I’m not sure why she thought a soulbond would help, but I didn’t argue; I was just grateful I had one friend willing to help me that year.”

Draco sighed and laughed sadly, “it never occurred to you that she might have been trying to find out if you two shared one?”

Harry’s jerked his eyes up to Draco’s in horror, “Oh, Merlin, I hope not.”

“Relax, Potter. I didn’t say that to make you panic; it was more of an acknowledgment that Hermione is smart. She probably already knows the answer to any of the questions we have….” Draco trailed off at the look in Harry’s eyes and shook his head, “We can’t until after your birthday, Harry.”

Harry deflated and heaved a sigh, “I know, but I’m pants at research.”

“Are you? Or have you just never been taught the proper way to do it?” Draco countered and then waved the question away, “Back to your original question, me trusting Pansy. The answer is yes, probably for the same reasons you trust Hermione. The difference is my and Pansy’s friendship goes back to our childhood, raised by fathers in the Dark Lord’s inner circle.” Draco took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat, “We agreed in fourth year to give the illusion we were dating. It gave us a medium of privacy and allowed me to hide that I had no interest in any of the other females in the school.”

Harry frowned, shovelled the last mouthful of porridge into his mouth, and chewed. “Is Pansy safe at her home?”

Draco lifted his head, eyes reflecting his grief as he shrugged, “I don’t know. Our plans changed somewhat this summer with my father’s arrest.”

Licking his lips, Harry took a drink of water, “may I ask what those plans were?”

An indecipherable look crossed Draco’s face, and he set his fork down. “We made the plan to do a blood ritual adoption, but now, with the disownment, that’s not possible.”

“Oh, is there another option?” Harry asked, setting his spoon down and picking up his fork.

Draco leaned over the table and gripped his hand, thumb caressing the bond mark, “I don’t know.

Harry frowned, thumb capturing Draco’s, “Is Pansy sixteen?”

“Yes, her birthday was in March,” Draco replied absently, munching on a piece of bacon. “Why?”

“Would it make a difference if I…” He trailed off as his ring heated, and he dropped his gaze to his hand.

“Harry?” Draco asked after a minute of silence.

Lifting his eyes, Harry met Draco’s, “I’ll ask Sirius to adopt her into the family; I need to adopt Hermione.”

Draco stiffened and stated. “that’s not what you were going to say.”

“No, it’s not, but my idea was vetoed.” Harry admitted, then shrugged, “I’m not sure why, but I assume it’s something that was ‘seen.’”

The curtains fluttered in agreement, making Harry grin. “I love magic.”

“It’s bloody creepy if you ask me, but I understand.” Draco muttered, eyeing the curtains, “Makes me glad I’m not the heir.”

Feeling a prompt from the ring, Harry grinned and leaned forward, “No, but you’ll be my consort, which will bring its own set of family secrets.”

Stilling, Draco looked at him, “but…”

Harry smiled, “I meant what I said. We can draw up a contract if you need it to feel more secure. But just know that nothing is coming between us. You’re my soulmate. Nothing is preventing us from getting married.”

“Aren’t we too young?” Draco asked slowly, his eyes shining.

Shrugging, Harry released a breath. “Objectively, maybe? But who’s going to argue with us if we just do it? You’re sixteen, and I will be in a few days. Hell, we could even do it while at the bank. The words are for us, and Hecate to bless.”

Draco’s hand tightened Harry’s wrist, admitting hesitantly, “It feels like a massive step for the start of our relationship.”

“Yet?” Harry prompted with a grin.

Draco returned the grin, though it slid into a full smirk, “It has the added bonus of being higher than my father could ever dream, and with the disownment, he couldn’t claim any sort of recognition from it.”

“Draco?” Harry spoke softly, feeling unsure. It wasn’t anything that Draco had said, but his genuine amusement at his father’s expense and the elation and pride that echoed from the bond.

Draco must have read the look on his face, or maybe he felt Harry’s hesitation because he smiled softly, rose to his feet, pulled Harry with him, and then paused.

Dropping Harry’s hand, he slipped inside the closest, the voices inaudible, but Draco returned holding a pair of slippers that he set at Harry’s feet.

Baffled but curious, Harry rolled his eyes as he slipped them on, then let Draco lead him from the room.

Chapter Five

The walk through the manor was silent, but Harry didn’t feel like he needed to fill the air with mindless chatter, content to be led by Draco, who seemed to know where he was going but let him gawk in wonder as Harry took in and catalogued the differences between the two Black residences he’d visited.

After a few minutes, Harry said, “I’m glad I’m not at Grimmauld’s place this year.”

“Hmm? Why?” Draco asked, squeezing his hand.

Shrugging, Harry tilted his head, considering the simple question. “Besides the obvious, I’m unsure what to do about Ron. He was my first friend, and it’s hard to reconcile the boy I knew with the man he’s becoming.”

“That’s not all, though,” Draco stated carefully, eyeing him in concern.

“It’s not, but I’m not sure if it would make sense,” Harry admitted, leaning his head against Draco’s arm as they walked. “The magic here is so pure. It’s happy and healthy. I can feel it replenishing my reserves, and it feels divine. I think if I were trying to recover at Grimmauld’s place, it would have the opposite effect and make me sicker if not outright try and kill me.”

Draco stopped walking, “You can feel the differences in magic?”

Warily Harry nodded.

Licking his lips, Draco looked away momentarily before remeeting his gaze, “Do you realize how rare that is?”

“I didn’t until you said something.” Harry admitted slowly and then asked, “Is that bad?”

“No,” Draco rushed to reassure him. “But I wonder if that is something specific to your lineage.”

Frowning, Harry shook his head helplessly, “I have no idea.”

Humming, Draco looked down at him before pulling on his hand to get them walking again, “May I ask what your family magics have told you about your ancestry?”

“Nothing,” Harry admitted honestly, “But that was by my request. It was overwhelming just finding out about Slytherin and then Peverall, though they have been relatively quiet. I know they’re there, but Salazar has been my primary instructor in a magical education as he deemed it the most critical that needed to be addressed.” He paused and then grinned, “Though he does have some serious issues with the overall education on offer at Hogwarts, he honestly can’t wait until I can claim my title openly because I’ll be able to wrestle control of Hogwarts from the headmaster, and ministry influences.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again: “You know, as exciting as that sounds, it also terrifies me, too, but only because I know what education you’re lacking.” He sighed and stopped at a closed door: “I wonder if you should request a proxy to take your seats in the Wizengamot until you finish school because I might never see you again.”

Laughing, Harry shook his head, “It can’t be that bad, Dragon.”

Snorting, Draco pushed open the door and waved Harry through, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

***

Two hours later, with a calming drought and three cups of hot chocolate mixed with coffee, Harry sat staring at the swirling lines, tracing them silently with his eyes, still trying to avoid his name and Draco’s smug expression.

He traced the line from Slytherin’s to Peverall and then down through the Warren line until it married into Evan’s line. He closed his eyes, dropping his head to the back of the chair, but he still saw the eleven males, the twelfth female, and then him. It felt like divine intervention, and he wasn’t sure how it made him feel.

Feeling a nudge from multiple sources, Harry opened his eyes again and looked at the tree that had centred on Peverall’s line again. Tracing the second child revealed no results, so he moved to the third, tracing it down to mingle with the Rosenburg line before moving into the Gaunt. He shivered in revolution at the narrowed and inbreed tree that family represented before coming to the end of the line, his breath stuttering to a halt.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, December 31, 1926

A warmth wrapped around his magic, comforting and more calming than his previous attempts, and he listened to the nudge encouraging him to look again.

Frowning, Harry did, feeling the frustration swirling in his stomach that wasn’t allowed to grow, and breathed in, eyes flicking back through the whole tree once again, taking the time to read each name.

Finding the Malfoy name married to a bastard was shocking, but his curiosity made him follow it down until he came to Draco’s name, where he stopped again, noting immediately that the box was different—every box before had been wrapped in leaves, but his was plain. Jerking his gaze back to Tom’s, it wasn’t quite the same. Tom’s wasn’t just missing leaves; he was missing the box, so what did that mean?

Puzzled, Harry stared at it, lost in thought.

A startled gasp drew Harry’s attention towards the door. He saw Narcissa Malfoy standing there, uncertainty growing on her face as she glanced between her son and him. Then, to his astonishment, she curtsied, “Your Grace.”

Harry stood, then felt like he was floundering when he felt the impatient push from the Peverall line. He bowed automatically, trying not to frown, not wanting her to think it was directed at her. “Lady Malfoy.”

“Narcissa, please, and if that’s too informal, I would prefer Ms.Black.” The lady in question replied, rising to her feet.

“Then please call me Hadrian, Narcissa,” Harry replied, feeling a sense of rightness spread through him at the name and a surge of pleasure from his mate.

Glancing questionably at Draco, he raised a brow, watching the blush appear on his cheeks. “Let me guess, you prefer that too, don’t you?”

Draco shrugged, admitting with a small smile, “It’s more distinguished than plain and boring, Harry.”

Shaking his head, Harry turned back to Narcissa, “Would you like to join us for tea? We were discussing…” He trailed off and frowned at his mate when he realized that he hadn’t actually said anything out loud for quite some time and blurted, “I’m so sorry.”

Draco nodded to his mother, waving him off, “Hadrian’s been silently processing his lineage. I’ve been readjusting some of the things we had and rearranging others by priority.” Then he glanced at Harry, “Though he seems to have a failsafe built in because that was a perfect bow, which side was that?”

Flushing, Harry sank into his chair and buried his head in his hands, “Peverell. It’s from their line I inherited the title.”

A delicate cough lifted Harry’s head, and he met Narcissa’s clear blue eyes, “If I may offer my advice?”

Harry nodded curiously as he leaned forward and refilled his mug—not a delicate little cup—with the hot chocolate mix. “Go ahead, advice is welcome.”

“I think you should stick with Hadrian,” she hesitated and licked her lips, appearing to choose her words carefully. “As Draco said, it’s more distinguished, but I believe it will draw attention away from the mythos surrounding the Boy Who Lived propaganda.”

“You think that propaganda?” Harry asked with interest.

“In a way, yes.” Narcissa admitted, contemplating her tea for a minute, “There is obviously no argument that whatever the Dark Lord did rebound off you, but who’s to say for sure that it was the killing curse?”

“The memories in my head?” Harry asked dryly and then winced when she flinched.

“What do you mean?” She asked cautiously.

Harry sighed, taking a sip of his mocha. “During my third year, the dementors affected me differently than any other student. I heard my parents’ murder, and then he cast at me.” He shrugged helplessly at her soft oh. “I don’t disagree with losing the mythos; I hate it, but I don’t know how to counter something that is, in essence, technically true.”

“It’s possible that if you start using Hadrian instead of Harry, though, people will associate that with the Dukedom,” Draco offered seriously, “It’ll just mean a different type of pandering, but one that’s easier managed than The Boy Who Lived crap.”

Frowning, Harry looked back at the wall, “What about the Earlship? Does that ever get mentioned?”

“Eh, yes and no?” Draco responded, “At a formal event, technically, they could introduce you by your full title, but if you establish early that you only want the Dukedom acknowledged, then that’s what the sheep will follow.” He paused and frowned, “Actually, that might be the better way to go anyway; the mystery and legends surrounding the Peverell brothers would be enough to distract from the rest anyway. I don’t know if dropping the Earldom is needed unless you’re making the statement.”

“I agree, actually.” Narcissa spoke clearly, “If you establish yourself now, dropping the extra would be more impactful in the future.”

“What mysteries and legends?” Harry asked curiously. He heard the amused chuckle in his head before the presence vanished. Harry rolled his eyes as Draco sighed heavily, quill scratching on the parchment beside him.

“We can go over that later, love.” Draco responded dryly and then nodded at the wall, “Have you finished ruminating with the wall yet?”

Snorting, Harry shook his head, “No, there’s something that’s bugging me, but I can’t quite figure it out.”

“And no one is helping?” Draco asked curiously.

Frowning at his mug, Harry ran his hand down his face, ignoring Narcissa’s gasp. ” They don’t talk to me; it’s more of an emotional response, like our bond.”

“Ah…” Draco nodded, “sounds frustrating, but that makes sense, actually,”

Harry chuckled, raising an amused brow at his soulmate, “Are you saying my emotions are frustrating, Dragon?”

Draco glared at him in annoyance, “You know it is.”

Still smiling, Harry stretched his hand across the space, dividing them and snagged his soulmate’s hand, “It’s worth it.”

Face softening, Draco smiled, “Every second.”

A soft sniffle drew their attention, and when Harry turned to look at Narcissa, she had tears in her eyes and was wiping delicately at her nose. “You’re soulmates, too?”

Feeling Draco tense, Harry rubbed his thumb over the bond mark and nodded, “We are, in addition to being Veela mates.”

A second later, she flung out of her chair, launching herself at her son, sending his teacup flying and shattering against the wall as she wrapped him in a hug, tears dripping down her face as she whispered her apologies over and over.

Feeling the storm of conflicting emotions surge through his mate, Harry squeezed his wrist and nodded, letting go, as Draco embraced his mother and let himself go, crying quietly into her shoulder as her guilt and unrelenting approval seeped into the room.

Not wanting to intrude or leave, Harry turned away from mother and son, returning to the wall and the puzzle it presented.

***

Three days later, Harry woke with a start, unsure what had woken him, but breathing hard as he looked around the room, the shadows dancing along the floor.

Instinctively, he looked to his side, relaxing as Draco murmured, curling closer before stilling in his sleep.

Harry lay there for a long time, gazing at his soul mate, mind racing as he tried to figure out what had happened.

The pulse from the ring was comforting and reassuring, telling him there was nothing wrong with the wards in the manor. He stretched out a touch, checking on Grimmauld’s place, and breathed out slowly, receiving the same reassurance back.

Slowly, he reached up, fingering the lightning bolt scar, and felt nothing, not even a flicker of pain, indicating Tom was attempting something. This wasn’t as relaxing as he expected, but it just filled him with a sense of anticipation that something would happen soon.

Sighing, Harry rolled to his back, scrubbing his with both hands as he heard the echo of a clock chime the hour. Six o’clock. What did it mean?

Groaning, he sat up, sliding from the bed soundlessly, annoyed that it seemed to be another question to add to his never-ending list.

Entering the bathroom, he pushed the door partially closed, using the toilet before turning on the shower as hot as he could stand. Shedding his clothing, he stepped inside under the spray, tilting his head back to let the water run down his face, trying to still the thoughts in his head. He knew from experience that fixating on the question or problem did nothing and made him run around in circles.

It was only thanks to the runes that the hot water was still just as hot when he got in because it took about an hour before he felt Draco stir, his annoyance at finding himself alone in the bed smoothing into fond exasperation.

A second later, a husky voice preceded the delicious press of a naked body against his back, “Happy birthday, love.”

Harry stilled, body thrumming with more than desire, but he turned to accept the chaste kiss, mind once morning turning inward.

Draco pulled back with a frown, making Harry flush, but Draco just shook his head, “Get out of the shower before you prune completely, Potter.”

Sighing, Harry complied, pressing a soft kiss to Draco’s lips before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

He was still towelling himself dry when the shower shut off, and he jerked his gaze to Draco, who performed a drying charm as he stepped out. “What’s bugging you, love?”

“I don’t know.” Harry replied lamely, “I just…” he trailed off with a shake of his head and then scrubbed his face, feeling the rough sensation of hair rubbing against his hand, “I need coffee.”

Draco’s eyes widened, but he didn’t comment as he walked into the closet and handed Harry a stack of clothing.

Harry dressed methodically, pushing through a rush of appreciation to his mate as he admired himself in the full-length mirror.

He would never have expected clothing to be anything other than functional, but Draco had a marvellous taste.

Even though they were initially his mates, the style fit Harry perfectly, and so did the colours. The dark forest green complimented his eyes even though they were two different shades.

Draco appeared in the mirror behind him, dressed similarly but wearing a silver shirt vest instead of the floor-length one, and Harry realized it was actually the outer robe. Draco was carrying a two-toned light cloak, which he placed over Harry’s shoulders. “It might seem like a bit much, but cooling charms are woven into the fabric.”

Harry met his eyes, fingering the material, and raised an eyebrow at the tingling in his fingers.

Draco flushed but shrugged defensively, “So there might also be some protection charms, but I thought it complimented what you’re already wearing.”

“Doesn’t it go with this already?” Harry asked in confusion, flicking his gaze over his reflection before meeting Draco’s silver eyes.

“No love, it’s part of your birthday present,” Draco whispered shyly, then glared at him, and the amusement he knew was on his face. “You can get the rest of your gifts later, we have an appointment to keep.”

Swallowing at the reminder, Harry glanced over them in the mirror again before nodding and allowing Draco to lead him from the room, the hum of anticipation fluttering along his skin again.

After the customary greetings of which Narcissa was the only person present, Harry ate his breakfast automatically, not tasting or remembering anything he consumed.

The sudden burst of magical energy broke him from his thoughts, and he felt a brief flash of guilt for ignoring the two at the table, which was quickly pushed aside when his godfather strolled into the room, “Sirius!”

Jumping from the chair, he threw himself at his godfather, the sense of safety and love choking him and making him bury his head in the crock of Sirius’s shoulder, just catching Severus following him, a look of fond exasperation on his face, something Harry never expected to see.

Having Sirius there was the best birthday gift he could have received, but his worry about the plan made him pull back reluctantly and ask, “What are you doing here?”

A grin spread across Sirius’s face. “As if I would miss this,” he calmly held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. “Medea assured me it was safe, so I brought you an extra birthday present.”

Confused by the mention of Medea, Harry stepped back and looked expectantly at Sirius when he heard the soft whisper of his name. He jerked his head towards the door and saw Hermione standing there awkwardly, eyes wide, as she looked at the Malfoys sitting at the table.

Suddenly, though, her eyes filled with tears, and she ran across the room, flinging her arms around him. He returned the hug as she cried on his shoulder, pulling a few relieved tears to his own.

After a few minutes, she finally pulled away, blushing horribly as she accepted Sirius’s handkerchief and wiped her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I wasn’t expecting that. I’ve just been so worried.”

Smiling gently, Harry took her hand and pulled her to the table. ” It’s fine, ‘Minoe. According to Draco, I should be more worried about you.”

She tensed briefly before exhaling and shrugging her shoulders helplessly. “I should have guessed you’d know,” she said.

Stopping a foot from the table, Harry squeezed her hand briefly before gesturing, “Hermione, may I introduce you to Narcissa Black, Draco’s mother? Ms.Black, my best friend, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione bobbed an awkward curtesy as Narcissa inclined her head. “Ms.Granger, I understand from my cousin and my son that you’ve been having a difficult summer, but continue to assist our efforts in educating Hadrian.”

Hermione nodded sadly, “It’s been difficult, but not something I can’t handle. I’m willing to support Harry in any way possible.” She paused and licked her lips, “And please, call me Hermione. I hope we can all be friends.”

Harry smiled brightly at his friend when she finished speaking, and seeing the look of shock on both Malfoy- he stopped and that, and realized they were Black’s now, and wasn’t surprised when Narcissa recovered first and offered a genuine smile, “then Narcissa, please, it’s only fair.” She nodded to an empty chair, “would you like some tea before we leave?”

“I would love that. Sirius smuggled me some of the tea you had the house elves purchase, and it was simply divine.” Hermione replied, slipping onto the chair and inclining her head to Draco politely. “I want to thank you for assisting in Harry’s rescue,” she shifted in her chair and swallowed. “I would also like to start over as allies and potential friends. I don’t want to lose my friendship with Harry because we can’t get along.”

Draco’s mouth fell open in surprise. His eyes snapped to Harry’s and narrowed at the smug expression he knew he couldn’t wipe from his face.

Shrugging, Harry sat down beside his mate and kissed his cheek, “told you she’d beat you.”

Lips pursing, Draco rolled his eyes but stood, offering a half bow. “I will gladly accept the offer to start over, but I would prefer to skip a step and go straight into starting a friendship. Before that happens, I owe you a true apology, and I can only hope I prove through my actions now and in the future that I’ve changed from the person I was.”

It suddenly felt like the start of a thunderstorm, making Harry eye Hermione carefully, who was staring at his soulmate with an intensity that was startling. Then her eyes dropped to their hands, wrists exposed, and a flickering of longing spread across her face before she deflated. “You’ve already proved you’re a better person than you once were; I accept your apology and forgive you for any past mistakes, so nothing further needs to be done.”

A surprised flush crossed Draco’s face, his eyes glistening with tears. He choked out thank-you before excusing himself, but not before squeezing Harry’s hand as he left the room.

Thankfully, Sirius plopped into a chair, refusing to allow the room to grow awkward. He grinned happily as he snagged the teapot and filled three cups, “So, how’s it been going here?”

Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table. “I never realized how much I didn’t know until I started all of this.” He sighed and sat up, flashing Narcissa an apologetic grimace to her raised eyebrow. “It’s criminal how much Hogwarts doesn’t teach. Over half of this stuff I’m learning is useful. Considering how many highborns go there, it would probably prevent unintentional offence because a muggle-born didn’t understand the blunder.”

Sirius hummed and tilted his head, “I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right. Moony and Lily did alright, but mostly because James and I guided them.”

Severus snorted, “Not completely. I assisted her before school started, so she had a basic understanding.”

Sirius waved him off, “Oh, hush you, no one likes a braggart.”

Laughing, Severus shook his head, “Of course, and that’s definitely not you, right?”

Sirius gave him a beaming smile that screamed innocence, but Harry was stuck on what Severus had said and looked between the two men in shock before focusing on Severus. “You knew my mom, too?”

The table winced and froze as one, and Severus closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he met Harry’s gaze straight on. “I did. I had the honour of calling her my best friend when we were children.” He offered a small smile. “We grew up in the same town, though admittedly, she lived in a richer neighbourhood.”

“Oh.” Harry dropped his gaze, his stomach turning uneasily, and he was unsure how to react.

The gentle clearing of Severus’s throat drew his attention. Harry was faintly surprised by the uncomfortable but genuine expression of grief on the potion master’s face, “Maybe when we have time this summer, I can share some memories in the Pensive.”

“We both can.” Sirius offered, giving Severus a fond look that made the man scowl.

Looking between them again, Harry relaxed as he felt a cool hand caressing his neck and leaned back against Draco, whispering, “I’d like that.”

Severus nodded once and then turned his attention to Narcissa to ask a question. Draco slid back into his chair, joining the conversation, followed by the other two until only Harry was left. He didn’t feel like joining and was thankful no one forced him. The anticipation surged once again, drawing his attention as his thoughts turned inward.

***

The three adults and three teens sat down inside a private office, Narcissa placing the portkey provided by the bank on the desk of the…. Harry blinked in confusion, unsure what the creature was behind the desk.

He risked glancing at the rest, but only Hermione appeared as baffled as he was, which made him feel somewhat better.

“Ah, Lord Black, right on time, Ragnok is waiting in his office.” The creature rose to his feet and gestured towards the doors, the six falling into step behind him following silently, giving Harry no opportunity to question what they were.

After a few twists and turns, the party arrived at a set of double doors. The image etched into the stone offered a view of a large valley with a river winding through a stand of trees leading to the belly of a mountain.

It was one of the most beautiful pieces of art Harry had ever seen. He cast a slight mournful glance at the doors as they opened and stumbled to a halt, bumping into Sirius, who’d come to a stop in the middle of a large cavernous room with windows behind the desk on a dais offering the same view as the image on the door.

“Lord Black,” the deep tone drew Harry’s attention to the creature coming through a door to the left, leading a female dressed in a flowing black dress, tassels streaming behind her, and what appeared to be a dragon’s tooth around her neck. The male, in comparison, was dressed simply, with leather pants and a silk shirt, open with the ties undone and a dagger sheathed at his side.

Sirius bowed formally, “Chieftain Ragnok, may your gold flourish and your enemies sleep too deep to fight the knife that cuts their throat.”

Ragnok’s eyebrow flew up at the greeting, a slow grin creeping across his face, “So mote it be,” he led the woman to a chair made of woven branches, letting her settle before he turned to greet the rest of them a little hint of what thought was approval in his eyes.

“Norcneer will scribe for us,” Ragnok stated, waving to a low table. He then turned to look straight at Harry, avidly interested in his clear blue eyes, but he turned to the female with a raised brow.

The woman smiled kindly, “We are the Dverger, young one; the ones at the counters are half-bloods but every bit as precious to us.” She held out a hand, beaconing Harry forward, and he sent a desperate look towards Sirius, who nodded once but said nothing.

Moving towards the female Dverger, Harry swallowed as Ragnok folded his arms and waited.

Once he stood before the woman, he kept his head lowered, accepting her hand as he bowed, knowing that Narcissa would be grading him on his performance. “My Lady, I’m honoured to meet you.”

The soft chuckle that left her lips made him flush, but he completed the action he’d been committed to and kissed the back of her hand, not missing the shocked silence coming from his party or the other Dverger. Rising from his bow, Harry met her gaze, surprised to find her eyes molten gold and a little smile playing on her lips, “Not as humbled as I am to meet you, Hadrian Peverell. My name is BeannachtBlessing, and I am our clan, Shaman.”

Feeling a flush form on his cheeks, Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I will admit to some ignorance. My education is lacking in many areas, but given my companions’ silence, I think I should be humbled to meet you, my Lady.”

Her chuckle turned to a tinkling laugh, and she dipped her head, “Very prettily said, you may introduce me to your companions, Your Grace.”

Harry stilled at the title and closed his eyes in the sudden understanding of what powers a Shaman might have. The slight squeeze of his fingers made him open his eyes, and he found himself looking into an experienced and sympathetic abyss: “You might not have the title yet, young one, but you will, and when the time comes, ask those who never leave for help; you might be surprised at the outcome.”

Swallowing the irritation at the riddle, Harry smiled briefly, reacting on a whim by squeezing her hand, dipping his head to encourage her to rise, and then leading her across the room. “My Lady, may I introduce you to the Earl of Islington, Sirius Black, and his Consort, Severus Snape…” Harry frowned and stared at Severus before shaking his head, ignoring the tickle in the back of his mind.

Shaking his head, he apologized and continued, “Narcissa Black, Draco Black, my soulmate, and my best friend, Hermione Granger.” He inhaled silently, “Friends, this is BeannachtBlessing, the clan Shaman.”

The adult’s reaction was instant, the two men offering deep formal bows, while Narcissa courtesy, Draco bowing a second behind, leaving Hermione to awkwardly copy Narcissa, her efforts earning her a nod of respect at the effort.

Beannacht turned to Ragnok and held out a hand, “Husband?”

Ragnok crossed the room, surveying her with an exasperated expression but readily accepting her hand, “My love?”

“I introduce you to the Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrain Cadmus James Peverell, Earl of Exmoor, Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, and our next patron.” Even though the smile never left her face, her tone changed, taking on a commanding air that Harry expected could compel hundreds of men to do her bidding, yet that wasn’t all; it was the promise laced in the words and absolute conviction that shook him and left him stunned. “Your Grace, my husband, and our Chiefton Ragnok.”

Harry automatically bowed, “Chiefton Ragnok, it is an honour. May your gold ever flourish, and your enemies be too slow to stop the swing.”

“So mote it be, Your Grace.” Rangok rumbled, bowing in return, increasing the stunned silence, then gestured towards a table that lowered from the ceiling, enough chairs appearing around it as it settled, “Let’s get started.”

As everyone gathered around the table choosing chairs, Draco and Hermione slid in beside him, faces filled with awe, proving that Draco had given Hermione a hushed history lesson, explaining the significance of what had happened. It made Harry sigh in resignation, wondering if he should be annoyed they understood or relieved at his future lecture.

Ragnok waited until his wife sat before nodding to the rest, sinking into his chair, “Norcneer, are you ready?”

“I am, Sir.” The Dverger bustled from the corner carrying a pillow, an athame of pure obsidian, and a rolled-up parchment, which he arranged carefully in front of Harry, rolling the scroll out to show it was blank. “If his Grace could prick his thumb and press it to the paper, it will summon the rings you’re entitled to.”

Harry straightened in his surprisingly comfortable chair and took a deep breath before picking up the athame, pricking his left thumb, and pressing it to the paper. The paper turned gold instantly, and a tray holding three rings appeared on the suddenly smoking paper.

“There is no right way to put them on,” Ragnok said, leaning forward on his elbows. Tension ran through his shoulders, picked up and echoed by everyone else, but Harry still hesitated, his mind turning inward once again as he stared at the three rings.

He picked up the simple silver band and slipped it on his pinky, the ring automatically sizing to fit. When nothing happened, he picked up the obsidian band, slipping it on quickly. He grabbed the third one, a thicker band etched with snakes, and slid it on the ring finger of his right hand next to the heir ring, the anticipation he’d been feeling all morning fading away to a calm that filled him completely.

When an achingly familiar voice spoke in his head, the image of a remarkably young man appeared, “Ah, hello, grandson, it’s been many, many years since someone of the blood successfully claimed my ring. We’ve had pretenders and panders, but you, having inherited the magic already, it is fitting you be the first to wear my ring. A boon for you, before your oath, demand retribution from the one named Tom Riddle, distant cousin he is, but your claim is righteous; let magic judge and render judgment and never lose hope. Trust in the cycles of life; all things have their time, and all things come full circle.”

As Slytherin’s voice faded, another person appeared, dressed in humble hand-spun clothing, sword and armour at the ready, the voice old and tired, “We stand, we fight, we defend, it was our duty passed down from generation to generation, but we forgot how, we forgot why, it is now past time to remember. Enemies stand on multiple fronts, but the preservation of Avalon is paramount; trust in yourself and trust in your bond; they will never let you falter. We are all born in the shadow of Avalon, and to Avalon, we must all return.”

As soon as that voice faded, a gravelly female voice spoke, overlapped with a gruff male, voice laced with amusement at his start of surprise, “It was hidden and forgotten, the start of our line carried the shame the next generation imposed, but now humbled we are, apologizes we offer, it is only through the new lord that we learn that we’re not always right. In adopting you, he has set us on a path of recovery and redemption, we offer our strength in the battle to come…. We look forward to serving and protecting when your time comes. Magic is not something we possess; it is something we are.”

Jerking with a start, Harry’s eyes snapped open, and then, without thought, rose to his feet, the echoes of his ancestors still filling his mind, and spoke into the silence, voice calm and steady, “I, The Duke of Warwick, Lord Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis, by birth and blood, first in line, challenge those in the blood and then claim the rights of magic and exact a price for those of my shared blood who have wronged me and mine, judge and demand restitution as you will, and forgive those who love our family – both living and deceased. In exchange, I vow on my life and magic to uphold the ancient traditions of Hecate, as taught by Merlin. I pledge we Seek not to control but to flow with the natural rhythms of life in the names of my ancestors in the houses of Slytherin, Peverell, Potter and Black.”

He stood there wavering on his feet, feeling the coil of his magic expand rapidly, a shield erupting between him and those sitting around the table, his body going ridged before it erupted in pain, and a scream was pulled from his throat, along with a black enraged shadow emerging from his head crowding around him. The twin echoes of thumps hitting the table were a dim and distant worry, as shadows emerged from nowhere, shimmering in righteous fury, as they wrapped around the wraith that felt terrifying familiar and disappeared, pulling it with them, leaving behind the reassurance that his plea had been heeded, and judgement had been met.

Collapsing like a puppet with its string cut, he could already envision his head cracking off the table, but hands grabbed him, lowering him to his chair, the voices overlapping in their worry and making no sense and feeling like shards of glass against his already pounding head, making him whimper.

Cool fingers touched his temple lightly, the heady, almost addicting scent of foreign magic spreading throughout his body, the apology and pride in his actions so thick he could taste it. It took a few minutes, and another soft hush was directed to the room at large. Slowly, the pain in his head disappeared, and his stomach settled. When he opened his eyes, he met gold eyes filled with guilt as she helped him sit.

Moving carefully, Harry leaned against the back of the chair and reached for the ring that was sitting on the tray, the wisp of smoke disappearing, and slipped it onto his pinky, adding it to the three already there, the trio of voices unsurprising as they overlapped in glee, “thank-you for freeing us, we never expected to see it, though we dreamt of it for so long, you have the cloak and ring, all you need is the wand, Master of Death. Our duty and honour is to serve the Lady in any way she demands. We are not harbingers of doom, but the balance, for in life there is death, and no creature should circumvent that unless specially chosen.”

Heart clenching at the title, magic tingled along his skin, encompassing the rings before they rippled, merging into one that sat on pinky, and he gazed at it in amazement. A crescent rainbow, vivid and clear against the obsidian, stretched across a lake, the pommel of a sword with an unrecognizable symbol stretched through the middle of the rainbow, the tip touching the lake, with a snake wrapped around the blade, resting its head on the curve of the handle. Around the coat of arms, words appeared, “Those we love never truly leave us,” and he felt tears burn his eyes as he rubbed a thumb over them, unable to argue that undeniable truth as he felt approval from his family. The one thing he’d carved as a child and never thought he’d get.

It was enough to make the tears fall, and he buried his head in his arms and wept.

Chapter Six

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was in a small room he didn’t recognize, with Draco wrapped around him. Draco whispered in a mixture of English and French, and Harry couldn’t help the groan escape him: ” Please don’t tell me I need to learn French on top of everything else.”

His only response was a watery chuckle as Draco leveraged over him, rolling him to his back. ” There are spells that can teach you the language, love.”

With a relieved breath, Harry reached up a hand and brushed the tear from Draco’s cheek, “You alright?”

“You stupid self-sacrificing idiot, am I already?” Draco scowled. I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

Harry paused, memories rushing in, and he caressed the ring. The etching was sharp and clear, allowing him to feel every line like it was a carving. “I’m—I think I’m fine. Whatever Beannacht did repaired everything.”

Draco looked at him doubtfully but sat up, “Well, she brought in a potion and said you should drink it; it’ll remove any lingering soreness, just in case.”

Moving carefully to avoid hitting his mate, Harry swung his legs over the bed and accepted the goblet. Draco passed him, recoiling at the smell, and couldn’t stop the whine. “I still don’t understand why potions can’t smell appetizing.”

“Drink it, Hadrian,” Draco ordered, watching him with a raised brow as Harry did what he was told.

Shuddering as he finished, Harry handed the goblet back and glanced around the small room again, “Where are we?”

“My quiet room, for when I’m overcome with a vision,” Beannacht stated from the door. How are you feeling, your grace?”

“Fine, but please, call me Hadrian.” He replied, standing carefully and holding a hand to assist Draco—not that his mate needed it, but Harry did, wanting the contact.

The shaman regarded him quizzically before nodding, “Very well, Hadrian, if you want, you can continue your meeting with Ragnok, or we can have it rescheduled to another day.”

“I…” Harry glanced at his mate, who had a blank expression, his emotions locked behind tight shields. “Can you explain what happened during my claim? Because I don’t think what happened was normal.”

Expelling a deep breath, the shaman nodded, “I can,”

“Then let us continue. If that is acceptable?” Harry stated, lacing his hand through Draco’s as he followed the Shamen, who turned without a word.

In Ragnok’s office, Sirius reached him first, pulling him into a quick hug before holding him back to expect him. “Everything seems to happen to you, and I won’t ask how you’re feeling, I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Smiling at his godfather, Harry held out an arm, pulling Hermione into a one-armed hug as she pressed a tear-stained face against his chest. “I think I’m better than alright. It was intense but freeing at the same time.”

Sirius snorted, “I can understand that, but you claimed four-”

“No, I only claimed the Potter family magic; I already had the other three. I just assumed the titles, which is a different magic.” Harry explained, then rubbed his head, admitting, “I’m not sure I can explain it fully or properly.”

“Do you know what the black thing was?” Hermione asked cautiously, eyeing the adults who looked uneasy, “They seem to have an idea but are refusing to say.”

“No, but Beannacht said she could explain,” Harry offered, shuffling them towards the table where Ragnok and the two other adults sat, tea in hand. Narcissa was pale and worried, and Severus was gray, fear and awe in his eyes.

Once settled at the table, he was served and watched as the shaman stood next to her husband, face serious, “When Hadrian spoke his oath, he did it in a way that called Hecate’s attention, first demanding justice, but leaving that justice up to her, and then offering his service in exchange. She answered in a way I don’t think anyone could have predicted. I certainly didn’t see it.” The shaman lifted her head, gold eyes roaming his face, “Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?”

The adults hissed as one, and Draco paled. Harry shook his head, seeing Hermione echo his movement; the shaman nodded though like she expected the response and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “It’s a dark, forbidden magic, in which a person splits their soul, hiding the bits in an object, to achieve immortality.”

Hiding his trembling hand under the table, Harry drew in a breath, “Alright, what-what does that have to do….” He trailed off and closed his eyes, remembering the wraith that had felt familiar, “Tom Riddle did that, didn’t he?”

The shaman nodded, “He did. I couldn’t say how many times, but there were at least three.”

Swallowing, Harry glanced at the ornate amulet on the table, “The amulet, ring and me….”

“That’s correct,” The Dverger leaned into her husband, her voice uncharacteristically sombre compared to earlier. The ripples of your claim have already stretched across Great Britain. The punishment of the wizard, formerly known as Tom Riddle, is done. Your war is over.”

“What do you mean over?” Hermione asked cautiously, hope growing on her face.

The shaman flicked an eye towards Severus, who swallowed, “Would you care to wager a guess, Consort Black?”

Severus hesitated before pulling the sleeve of his robe up his arm, the dark mark already fading. “Whatever happened removed the magic embedded into the mark. It was surprisingly painless, though I suspect from Hadrian’s warning I have him to thank for that.”

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable, “I wasn’t fully conscious of what I was saying, so your thanks are best left to those who guided me.”

“Maybe,” Severus allowed, “but you are the only reason it was possible.”

Harry dropped his head, stomach twisting unpleasantly, but didn’t comment.

“So he’s dead?” Draco asked when the silence grew.

“No, I don’t think so,” Beannacht admitted softly, “But he’s been-”

“He’s a squib.” Harry winced as he cut her off but then paled at what he said, “That was the price magic demanded; it will also search out and punish those who have wronged my house.”

“Are you saying marked Death Eaters are going to be punished?” Sirius asked carefully.

Harry licked his lips, then shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think anyone does.” Beannacht said carefully, “This is a route no witch or wizard has ever taken, no offence meant, but most of your kind forget their gift comes from a higher power. They would rather deal with those they deem guilty, believing it their divine right as the wronged party.”

“I think until we know the full extent of what has happened outside these walls, it might be better to delay the announcement of your claim, Hadrian,” Ragnok said slowly as if he didn’t want to cause offence.

“I agree,” Harry responded instantly, making the Dverger relax. I wish to discuss a few other things, but I imagine Hermione and Sirius had best return to Grimmauld Place. Before that, I would like to adopt Hermoine as a sibling.”

“You don’t need to do that, Harry,” Hermione argued, flushing.

“I do,” he responded. It’s common knowledge that you’re my best friend. If people seek revenge, I don’t think they’ll target me immediately, but they will go for those I love.”

“I’m safe at Grimmauld Place, though.” Hermione protested.

Harry glared, “So safe that you’re being obliviated to comply with the status quo? What if Dumbledore gets involved?” He shook his head, “No, you need the extra protection my blood can provide.” He paused and looked at Draco before glancing back at Hermione, grinning, “It’ll also give you a chance to rub some of the Slytherin’s nose into the fact they’d have to address you as Lady Hermione.”

Draco sputtered, “You realize you’re technically insulting yourself there. You claimed his magic.”

“Eh, semantics, no one needs to know that. Slytherin didn’t have a title,” Harry waved him off and looked pleadingly at Hermione, “Please let me do this; you’re one of my oldest friends and the only one who’s never turned on me, sticking by me and trusting me without verifiable proof. I love you as a sister, and while I imagine my parents would have had more children if they survived, it wouldn’t change the fact I’d still want you as my sister.”

“You stupid prat, you have got to stop making me cry.” Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears, but she jerked her head in a shaky nod, “I’m an only sibling too, so I understand how you feel, and I return it. You’d still be my brother with or without an adoption, though.”

Sitting up, Harry looked around the room, “What do we need to do?”

Beannacht perked up, “Oh, it’s ridiculously straightforward, and I’d be honoured to bind it if you wish?”

Glancing at Sirius, when Hermione shrugged, his godfather offered him a smile, “Dverger magic would magic it practically unbreakable.”

“Alright.” Harry agreed and turned to the shaman, who beaconed them to the middle of the room.

“Kneel on the floor facing each other,” She instructed, pulling off the dragon’s tooth waiting while they complied, “The incantation is simple, Hadrian, Hanc ego veneficam in fratrem accipio.I take this witch as my sibling”

Harry repeated it a few times, listening carefully when Beannacht corrected his pronunciation, not even bothering to hide his amusement at Hermione’s pained expression.

When the Shamen declared him proficient, she handed the athame to them. “Slice your palms and then clasp them together.” When they complied, she wrapped the braided leather around their hands, holding the tooth around their hands, letting the tooth swing free. She placed her hands over theirs and gave Harry a firm nod.

Inhaling, Harry let it out carefully and spoke, voice taking on an echoing quality as magic infused with each word, “Hanc ego veneficam in fratrem accipio.”I take this witch as my sibling The magic rushed around the room, wrapping the two of them in a golden glow that bled into the crevice of their clasped hands, the blood disappearing with a flash of light.

When they released each other, the wound was sealed, and a delicate chain and an amulet sat around Hermione’s neck, matching the image from his ring.

A short time later, Harry was saying goodbye, hugging Sirius and Hermione, and shaking Severus’ hand, who decided it would be best if he was seen at Hogwarts for the remainder of the day.

When he stepped back, he felt Draco slide an arm around his waist and watched the three disappear, the portkey taking them back to Black Manor so they could go their separate ways.

Once it was Narcissa, Draco and himself, Ragnok turned to him, “What else can the Dverger do for you today, Hadrian?”

“I’d like to visit the Peverell and Potter Vaults and speak to my account manager. I imagine the only accounts still activated at this point would be the Potters, but I will need a full accounting and a detailed profile of the investments.” He paused and added, “I don’t expect that all today, but I would like to have it by the end of the week, with an appointment booked for the following one, if possible.”

“We are at your disposal, your grace.” Ragnok inclined his head, “Unfortunately, the Potter account manager passed away, so it may take some time pulling the records requested, but,” he waved a jewelled hand towards Norcneer, “My oldest son if it’s not to forward of me-”

Harry held up a hand, “It is not forward, Chieftain. It is an honour for my house that you would trust us with your son.” He frowned, “though I am curious, why did your wife call me the next Patron? What does that mean?”

“In recent times, it was mostly a symbolic position, awarded by wizards to make it seem like they were giving us something, but in ancient times, the position had power.” Ragnok cleared his throat, “Once you can openly claim your titles, and if you wish to accept, you will be the first wizard named a patron by the Dverger in seven hundred years. There is a soul orb that will teach you what you need to know, our laws and customs, past treaties, but it would enable you to become our voice in the wizarding world.”

Harry sighed at another responsibility waiting to be picked up and hesitated, “May I speak freely?”

“Of course,” The Chieftain replied easily.

“Would there be a time limit on the offer?” Harry shrugged with a little smile. “I don’t want to reject the offer outright, but I can’t accept without research, and given the subject list I’m already under….” He trailed off with an apologetic grimace, but Ragnok waved him off with a chuckle.

“We have time, Your Grace. Was there anything else you wished to discuss today?”

Shifting in his seat, Harry nodded, “Would it be possible to pull the financial records for Hogwarts as a Founders Heir without Dumbledore knowing?”

Ragnok opened his mouth and closed it, looking stymied. “I don’t actually know.” He admitted honestly, “It’s not something Gringotts has had to worry about in centuries. Let me look into it, and I will let you know.”

“That is more than fair. Thank you for your time,” Harry stated as he rose, “We’ll leave you to dream of your vanquished enemies and the gold they stole back in the rightful hands. Norcneer, if we could have an escort to my vaults, that would be appreciated.”

The Dverger bowed and ushered them towards the door, “Of course, your grace, I’ll see to it personally.”

***

“Draco,

I need help, I’ve been staying with Daphne and her family for the last 3 weeks, and surprisingly, my dad let me go; though he did give instructions, it would be a boon if I could draw the interest of the Greenglass family before allowing it.

Anyway, five days ago, something strange happened. Shortly after ten in the morning, I felt a jolt like a shock running through my core, and I spent most of four days lying in bed. Daphne was kind and understanding, even having her mother come to check on me, but nothing was found, though the feeling persisted.

Yesterday, I received a letter from my father, who ordered me home by the end of the week and said it was time to fulfill my obligations to the family.

I woke up this morning to a searing pain in my chest and the knowledge my father was dead.

I just don’t know how, and I’m terrified. I can’t stay here. The Greenglasses have been wonderful hosts, but I can see they’ve been unnerved by the last week, and I can’t go home—none of the house elves are responding, and Willa can’t pass the wards either, so I’m at an impasse.

I set up a meeting at the bank; hopefully, they’ll understand what is happening. My appointment is at 2 this afternoon, and I desperately pray you can be there.

Pansy

Draco set the letter down, ran a hand through his hair, lowered his hand as his new ring caught in his strands, and sighed. How smoothly the last few days had passed had almost been anticlimactic. Nothing in the Prophet or the Times had any news regarding Harry’s new titles or repercussions due to his claiming of his title.

Neither Sirius nor Severus had been back to the manor, or at least if they had, Draco hadn’t seen them. It has just been him, Harry, his mother, and all three of them trying to create a working relationship and teach Harry all that he needed to know.

They spent mornings in the solar, practicing The Art Of Being A Gentleman, as Harry had taken to calling it while groaning in exasperation. Harry’s claim of having two left feet was only matched by his atrocious penmanship, and Draco still wasn’t sure which was worse; his soulmate had no sense of movement.

Today, given the early hour, something Draco wasn’t personally used to, it was just the two of them in the breakfast room, and while it was odd being the only two, it was lovely.

The mundane routine already felt familiar. The paper Harry was hiding behind as he read shifted as his soulmate set it down, his face curiously blank. This expression made Draco go on the defensive and ask cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

A frown appeared on Harry’s brow. His eyes dropped to the page the paper was open on, and a flush hit his cheeks. He lifted a smaller magazine and handed it over.

Draco blinked in confusion, sticking his finger between the pages to check the cover and burst out laughing.

“Witch Weekly?”

“Oh, leave me alone. The articles advertised on the front intrigued me,” Harry defended himself with a sniff as he picked up his mug.

“But it’s a gossip magazine,” Draco said with a chuckle, ignoring the glare forming on his soulmate’s face.

“Your mother said not to dismiss a piece of literature based on such crass reasoning. No matter the gossip, it is based on some truth,” Harry replied with an eye roll, focusing on the letter still in Draco’s hand. “Everything alright with your post?”

Draco’s hand clenched reflectively around the parchment. The instant denial fought to break free and was only prevented by the flash of hurt quickly concealed in Harry’s eyes.

Shamed at the conflicting emotions of hurting his mate and protecting Pansy, Draco dropped his eyes to the letter and smoothed it out with his thumb, “It’s from Pansy. She asked to meet at the bank.”

Having Harry’s hand settle on top of his made Draco flush, blurting, “Her father’s dead.”

Harry froze, fingers tightening instantly as he drew in a sucking breath. “I assume her father was a somewhat healthy male around the same age as our parents with no known history of sickness?”

Draco frowned at the wording, lifting his head to agree: ” That’s—yeah, from what I know, why?”

Harry opened his mouth, seemed to think better, nodded to the magazine, and reached across the table to flip it open again.

Glancing at his soulmate in confusion, Draco looked at the page, brow furrowing at the headline.

“Magically Malady, or much more sinister plot?

We’re only four days into August, but in that time, four distinguished and respected members of our society have acted out in a bizarre, often baffling, and somewhat disturbing manner, with no rhyme or reason for their behaviour.

First was John Dawlish, an Auror of nine years, who was seen raving, alternating between crying and begging for mercy and screaming incoherently in the middle of his Saturday shopping with his wife, who quickly apparated then away. Lord Tobias Savage, another ministry Auror of 15 years, was addressing the Wizengamot and proposing a somewhat controversial bill (see page 19 for details). He fell into a fit, clawing at his arm and seizing. The session ended, and he was taken to St.Mungo’s for assessment, though no statement has been provided. Vincent Crabb Senior was seen being escorted from the same session by a shifty-eyed and terrified Pius Thicknesse, both clawing at their arms, but only Crabbe was crying inconsolably. Lastly, we have heard that the Bulstrode family was enjoying a summer holiday when Gavin Bulstrode was seen suffering the same sort of Malady. Still, no rescue was available for the Patriot of the family; he was declared deceased upon Auror’s arrival, and the family requested privacy to deal with the mourning.

Now, most might question why this establishment is concerned with the afflictions of at least two suspected Death Eaters during the last war, though they had been found innocent of the charges. With the re-emergence of He Who Must Not Be Named, most will probably claim they’re being punished by that same being, but what if I were to inform you, dear reader, that it is not just those men?

It has come to my attention that of the 14 people arrested at the Ministry in June, 3 of them have died in the last four days, and 5 more were suffering the same sort of Malady. Both LeStrange brothers died within hours of each other, while Peter Pettigrew was also found dead in his cell; of the five in St.Mungo’s, we’ve been unable to confirm who is affected and have received no official response to our inquiry that they are in fact there. However, I managed to speak with one person who wished to remain anonymous, and their response was this: “We have no official cause for the issues the men are undergoing, and make no mistake, they are suffering. Whether it is a punishment devised on the Minstery’s orders or through He Who Must Not Be Named, we don’t know. None of the symptoms have a rhyme of reasons, and no two people exhibit the same though there is a clear correlation between the affected.”

We will keep you, gentle reader, informed to the best of our ability, as the other accredited papers refused to report on the news. So look for our next instalment, and we hope to provide an update.”

Draco set the magazine down and swallowed hard, meeting Harry’s eyes. He silently handed Pansy’s letter, watching his soulmate read it and set it aside, his brow furrowed as if thinking hard.

Draco waited, taking a sip of tea before closing the magazine, skimming the articles before opening to the first page, scanning the table of contents, and some internal tugging, making him flip to the last section.

At the head of the page was Title Announcement, and his heart sank in dread.

“We have just become aware that a title we thought long extinct due to no direct descendants was claimed officially through the bank. It appears that everyone has forgotten the magic involved in ancient titles of this magnitude, and it will be gratifying when the Daily Prophet and the Times catch up to their own publications and have to look back at our article to realize we caught and released the news before they did.

Appearing in the Paper on August 1, 1996, was the automatic congratulations and confirmation on claiming the Duke of Warwick title; the last known person to hold the title was Lord Oliver Cadmus Peverell, who passed away in 957AD. Lord Oliver Cadmus was the oldest son of Cadmus Peverell and his wife, Stella Gardiner, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin’s only legitimate son. Stella was from the fourth generation of grandchildren and is rumoured – in the murmuring of ghosts who remember the time – to be the last grandchild held by Salazar before his death. Attempting to dive into Lord Cadmus’s line, we traced it for four generations before his last descendant disappeared; no known reason has been listed for that disappearance, though it is assumed they may have been a squib who sought refuge in the muggle world. A request for acknowledgement has been left unanswered by the bank, so we are all left to wait on who the new mysterious Duke of Warwick is. Still, I can assure you, all of us here at Witch Weekly are waiting with bated breath because I, for one, am invested in their appearance, just as I imagine many young witches of this day will be. The fight for the Duke’s hand will be vastly amusing, and I can’t wait to see the techniques employed to catch them.”

“Merlin,“ Draco breathed, eyes slamming into Harry’s, who gazed back in confusion.

Draco handed the magazine back wordlessly and averted his gaze as Harry took it, still frowning.

A letter appeared in the tray, set off next to the buffet table, and Draco rose to his feet, hesitating as he brushed his hand along Harry’s shoulders. His soulmate tossed the magazine down in disgust, glaring at it furiously.

Debating for half a second, Draco snagged the letter and brought it back, noting the seal and handed it to Harry, “it’s from Nrocneer.”

Grinding his teeth furiously, Harry took the paper and unrolled it, eyebrows rising to his hairline. His shoulders slumped as he handed it over.

“Duke Warwick,

It has come to the bank’s attention that notice of your title being claimed hit the papers the day after. It is something we unfortunately forgot was something that could happen based on the age of the title. Thankfully, the magic involved releases nothing about the current head. It would be complicated to trace, given your squib ancestors, though I won’t say it is impossible. I think it wise to meet, given the other disturbing things being reported, as it may pertain to the claiming as well, I won’t presume to set a time, so if you’re able to arrive today, I will make the time to see you.

Norcneer son of Ragnok,

P.S; The Potter account books note that the solicitors employed by your family for centuries handed in their resignation shortly before your parents’ death. I point out this irregularity because they still get the same quarterly fee as if the resignation never happened. I have noted it here, and we can discuss options moving forward, though I suggest looking at a different firm.

“Wow…”

It was all Draco could think of to say. He glanced at his soulmate, who was frowning, keeping his eyes away.

“Will your mother accompany us to the bank? Or should I send word to Sirius?” Harry finally asked, glancing at the papers scattered amongst the table.

Draco hesitated, “Mother might, but I wonder if it might be better to take Uncle Severus if Sirius can’t.”

Groaning, Harry scrubbed his face and admitted, “I’d prefer Sirius.”

Licking his lips, Draco sighed, “I understand that, but you can trust Uncle Severus, too. They are married.”

“It’s not that,” Harry replied, reaching for the coffee pot, his touch activating the stasis to heat it instantly. “I’ve spent five years with him and the perception he hated me, and I’ve yet to hear any explanation from either of them for why they hid this knowledge from me. Why has he spent five years bullying me when he had to know I was Sirius’s heir, his next lord? Why did they make out like they hated each other when they met in our third year? Same with the end of fourth, it’s like this barely concealed contempt, and I don’t understand it.”

Draco frowned in confusion, “what do you mean? Isn’t their marriage new?” Draco pulled back at Harry’s flat look as he shook his head.

“No, apparently, they’ve been married since I was a year old.” Harry bit his lip. “I know they must keep this illusion for the others, but why couldn’t they be honest with me?”

Draco had no reply and didn’t try to offer one as Harry ran a hand, dishevelling his hair even more. It was somewhat unfair how it made his soulmate even more attractive, the settling of the titles fully jump-starting his transition from teen to young adult.

In the three weeks Harry had been here, his hair had grown in length, brushing his shoulders now, the weight of it making it no longer resemble a bird’s nest, but the curl that was now evident still made it messy. He had a shadow of growth on his chin and cheeks, and it didn’t seem to matter how much Harry attempted to shave; it had grown back by the end of the day. Draco thought somewhat jealously that the potion regimen he was under hadn’t helped lower his attractiveness either, already envisioning how others would perceive his soulmate and hated the possessiveness that burned in his gut. Harry had grown two inches and had filled out his weight, no longer appearing to look like a famine curse victim. Yeah, it was utterly unfair; if people hadn’t wanted him before the titles, or because he was The Boy Who Lived, they’d want him just because he was gorgeous.

“Hey, what’s got you all twisted inside?” Harry’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and Draco felt a blush climb his cheeks. “You’re just really…” he trailed off and shrugged helplessly, “Witches and wizards are going to be all over you once your titles are released.”

Startled, Harry raised an eyebrow and then smirked, “Wasn’t it you who warned me about the possessive jealousy?”

Narrowing his eyes at his mate’s obvious amusement, Draco sniffed, turning his attention to his tea, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

An amused snort made the flush increase, body tensing and then melting at the same time as a warm hand enveloped his cheek, tilting his head up, “I don’t care how many throw themselves at my feet or want in my bed, you’re the only one I’m looking at and taking home.”

Heat sizzled down Draco’s spine at the intensity of Harry’s green eyes and shifted to lean closer, the coil of pleasure growing at the darkening of Harry’s eyes.

It was only through an innate sense of familiarity that he heard his mother’s soft footsteps on the stairs. He pulled back, offering an apologetic look with his head tilted to the door, which prevented the protest formed in Harry’s mouth from leaving. His hand squeezed once before reaching for the newspapers and pulling his notebook towards him. He picked up the self-inking quill and flipped to the business section.

“You thought the American company might be the better investment, but what about the one from Japan? They might be a smaller company and relatively new, but they’ve had steadily more growth in two years than the American one has in ten years, better sales, a more comprehensive range of products-“

“How can a broom company have a wider range of products?” Draco asked in complete bewilderment, pulling the page of handwritten notes towards him, trying not to shudder at the horror of Harry’s handwriting.

Harry rolled his eyes and tapped the page, “they’re experimenting with different styles of brooms depending on what they’re being used for, quidditch, racing, work, leisure, one or two people, then they have different ratings going from level one for non-experienced, to level five for experienced. Then they included a line for different age groups, with the same level ratings.”

Humming noncommittally, Draco pursued the numbers Harry had broken down, a little surprised at the detail. “Ask Nrocneer for a portfolio breakdown. They’d also be able to let you know if there are any international restrictions.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of that,” Harry replied, frowning a little at the numbers, only looking up when Narcissa swept into the room, smiling at them.

“Good morning, boys,”

“Good morning,” they echoed together, Draco rolling his eyes as Harry sprang to his feet and pulled out his mother’s chair, giving him a broad smile of approval.

“Suck up.” He muttered when his soulmate sat back down and huffed when Harry grinned.

“What about wand research?” After a minute of silence, Draco added, “Is that something that can be invested in?”

“Maybe, but it’s heavily restricted. It will have to be a project after Riddle and Dumbledore are disposed of.” Harry replied, making a note in the book, “What should I do about the majority of shares in Zonko’s?”

“Ah….” Draco trailed off, “Is there a problem with owning them?”

Shrugging, Harry dropped his gaze. ” Not necessarily, but it feels like a conflict of interest when I helped front the start-up costs to the Weasley twins business.”

“Would the twins be interested in purchasing it?” Draco asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, “And I’m not sure I would suggest they do. Zonko’s has had no new projects on the shelves in ten years, and hours of operations have dipped by 15% in the last two, but it hasn’t claimed any sort of financial hit in that time frame, even though the sales have stayed the same with no major markups to the products.”

“Do you think they’re scamming you?” Draco asked curiously and then frowned at his soulmate’s perplexed expression.

Harry sighed bitterly, “Well, I hadn’t until you said that, but I wouldn’t even know where to start that investigation.”

“Take Norcneer up on finding a new law firm,” Draco advised, glancing at the clock. We should head to the library and finish up the charms essay.”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry agreed, closing the book and straightening the papers, glancing at Narcissa as he did, “Would you be able to accompany us to the bank this afternoon?”

“Of course, is something the matter?” She asked in concern, lowering her fork.

“Not exactly. Nrocneer has some concerns to address, but we’re mostly going so Draco can accompany Pansy,” Harry explained, handing her the two newspapers, knowing she enjoyed reading both in the morning.

Accepting the bundle with a frown, she glanced between them, “What’s happened with Pansy?”

“She says her father has died,” Draco responded softly, accepting the hand Harry held out to him, and nodded to the magazine, “there’s an article in the middle that gives the idea it might be part of the repercussions when Harry claimed his title, which was also announced at the end, though they have no clue who claimed the title, just that it was claimed.” He sighed and rose to his feet pulling Harry with him, “it’s another reason we need to go to the bank, the Dverger apologized for the lack of foresight around the announcements of ancient titles.”

“What time do we need to be at the bank?” Narcissa asked, setting the paper aside and settling the magazine before her.

“Nrocneer didn’t give me a time; he just said he’d make it when I arrived, but Pansy’s appointment is at 2,” Harry offered, rising to stand beside Draco.

“Alright, you two go finish your homework. I’m going to contact Severus so he can pass a message to Sirius,” she rubbed her brow. “I know they’re playing a part, but they should be here. I don’t feel confident in it being just myself when we go to view your estates, Hadrian.”

Harry nodded in agreement, “I agree, but I think it might be best for them to wait until after the next meeting, which is supposed to be tomorrow.”

Narcissa frowned in disagreement but didn’t stop them from leaving, and Draco quickly pulled his soulmate from the room before his mother could change her mind.

***

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