Halcyon Days – 2/2 – enigmaticblue

Reading Time: 140 Minutes

Title: Halcyon Days
Series: The Many Lives of Sirius Black
Series Order: 3
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Established Relationship, Family
Relationship(s): Gen, background pairings
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None apply
Word Count: 57,474
Summary: Harry is still getting used to all of it: having parents, having friends, setting up a year-long prank. But the days are as bright as he’d ever hoped they would be.
Artist: germankitty

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“Do you know who’s taking Hermione to the Yule Ball?” Ron asks during Transfiguration.

Harry has been avoiding him since the Hogsmeade weekend, knowing that Ron is going to ask. He’s been taking refuge in the library, studying and writing the end-of-term essays for his various courses. He hasn’t been meditating as much as he should, and he will need to change that if he’s to find his form.

And it’s not as though Harry hadn’t known who Hermione was going with prior to their lunch with Sirius; it was more that Harry had wanted to know if it would be okay to spill the beans if Ron wasn’t there.

“Yes, and I’m not going to tell you,” Harry whispers, trying to focus on the hedgehog he’s trying to turn into a pincushion.

“Why?” Ron demands.

Harry is feeling more than a little exasperated by Ron right now. “Because she asked me not to, and before you complain, remember that I told you to get off your arse and ask her.”

“What am I going to do?” Ron whines. “I can’t not have a date. Ginny has a date!”

“Dean and Seamus are going without dates,” Harry points out.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, do I need to separate the two of you?” Professor McGonagall asks.

Harry quickly shakes his head. “No, Professor. I apologize.”

She sniffs. “Attend to your hedgehogs, boys. They aren’t going to transfigure themselves.”

Harry manages the transfiguration on his second attempt, and McGonagall seems pleased as she inspects it. It’s round and the same brown and tan as the hedgehog had been, but it’s very obviously a pincushion.

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” she says. “Now, let’s see you turn it back.”

Harry focuses and then waves his wand, and the transfiguration reverses, revealing a fat little hedgehog. He grins and picks up the creature, which rolls up into a ball. “What do you do with them after?”

“We keep an array in the castle for lessons,” McGonagall replies. “They’re well cared for, Mr. Potter.”

Harry hands over his hedgehog, and spends the rest of the class advising Ron, who just manages to get a pincushion, even if it still has stubby little legs.

As soon as class is over, though, Ron’s back at him. “I don’t understand why Hermione won’t tell me who’s taking her,” he complains.

“You’d have to ask her,” Harry replies. “But it probably has something to do with the fact that you expected her to wait around for you to ask her.”

“But who am I going to take?” Ron asks. “Can’t you ask Therese if there’s a girl from Beauxbatons who doesn’t have a date?”

“I can ask, but they’re probably going to require a bit of effort on your part,” Harry points out wryly.

Ron shrugs. “I can do that.”

Harry doesn’t say it, but Fleur and Therese had been there to see Ron’s reaction to finding out that Hermione already had a date. They’re unlikely to recommend someone for him to ask.

It turns out that Harry is right about that. When he asks Therese that night at dinner, Therese just purses her lips. “I doubt anyone would have accepted even if there had been anyone free. He should have come and asked himself, not sent you.”

“Well, it’s Ron,” Harry says. “He’s my oldest friend.”

“Ah, yes, I have one of those, too,” Therese replies with a flash of dimples that reminds him of Lionel. “Perhaps he should ask his sister for ideas. She’s a year younger, correct?”

“Brilliant,” Harry says. “I’ll tell him that. There are probably plenty of third years who’d like to be invited.”

Therese puts a hand on his arm. “I’m very much looking forward to it, Harry. I enjoyed lunch with your godfather and Monsieur Lupin.”

They’ve been speaking in French, partly because Harry wants to keep his skills sharp, and partly because it’s more comfortable for her. He says, “So am I, and I’m looking forward to being able to spend some time together over the Christmas holiday as well.”

Therese grins. “Yes, as am I, and I might even be persuaded to spend time with our grandmother this summer if you’re going to be there.”

“For part of the summer, anyway,” Harry replies with a smile. “And we could practice Quidditch.”

“I hope we’ll do that over Christmas,” Therese says. “I’ve missed it this year.”

“So have I,” Harry replies. “Although I still have quite a bit on my plate, so it might be for the best.”

Therese perks up a bit at that. “I heard about your study group. Do you think we might join?”

“Anyone is welcome,” Harry says quickly. “Just let me know when you’d like to join us. The location can be a bit tricky to find if you’re not familiar with the castle.”

They chat a bit longer, and then Harry heads back to the Gryffindor table and tells Ron, “You’re out of luck, mate. Maybe you should ask Ginny if there’s anyone in third year who might like to go.”

Ron pulls a face. “I can’t ask my sister to help me find a date.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Sure you can. You asked for my help.”

“That’s different,” Ron complains. “Ginny’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Ginny is sitting a bit further down the table with a few other students from her year, and Harry waves to get her attention.

“What are you doing?” Ron hisses.

“Putting myself out of my misery,” Harry replies.

Ginny sees Harry waving and she comes over readily enough. “H’lo there, Harry. What’s up?”

“Your brother needs a date to the Yule Ball,” Harry says without preamble. “Is there a third year who might be willing to go with him?”

“Olive is mad to go,” Ginny says thoughtfully. “She’d definitely say yes if Ron asks her.”

Harry waves a hand. “There you go, Ron. You ask Olive, and you’ll have your date.”

“And you’ll both owe me,” Ginny says, smirking at Ron.

Harry laughs at that, and decides that he likes Ginny much better now that she isn’t following him around, acting like a ninny every time she sees him. “And with that, I’m off to the library. I have a Potions essay, and I’m not giving Professor Snape a chance to give me a bad grade.”

He can’t quite figure out why he’s so excited over the next few weeks. He can feel it bubbling up every time he thinks about the Yule Ball, but he knows it’s not the dance. It takes him longer than he’ll ever admit to realize that he’s actually looking forward to Christmas. He never really has before.

Granted, Christmases at Hogwarts have been good, better than what he ever had with the Dursleys, but Harry can’t wait to be back at the farmhouse with Sirius and Remus, to experience Christmas with family.

When the night of the ball comes, Harry can’t quite say why he wants to talk to Sirius and Remus before the ball, or why he needs the reassurance that he’ll be going home afterwards. Maybe it’s because he knows that Ron is sticking around, and even now that he has a date, Ron is still obsessing over Hermione.

At least he’s given up on asking Harry who’s taking her. Harry had been close to losing patience, and he’s interested in seeing how the evening progresses, especially once Ron finds out that her date is Krum.

Still, Sirius teases him about primping and assures him that they’ll all be in France the next day to celebrate together. Maybe it will be a bit of a delayed Christmas, but Harry doesn’t mind.

Once he’s off the call, though, Harry does as ordered. He puts on his dress robes, which have been neatly pressed by Dobby, and he does what he can with his hair, which is—as always—completely hopeless.

Ron has a set of new dress robes purchased for him by Bill, so at least he’s not stuck with some old hand-me-downs, even if he doesn’t seem pleased. Neville looks sharper than Harry has seen him, and they emerge from their dorm room into the common room to see the rest of the Gryffindors who are going to the ball, all dressed in their finest.

Harry has made arrangements to meet Therese outside the Ravenclaw common room so he can escort her down to the Great Hall, so he leaves with the rest of the Gryffindors who either already have dates, or are meeting their dates as Harry is.

A couple of the older students follow Harry as he heads towards Ravenclaw Tower. Harry doesn’t really know either of them, but one, Perry, asks him, “How many seventh years are studying for their NEWTs with your group?”

“Not many,” Harry admits. “We haven’t had many seventh years express interest for that reason. We practice on our own, of course, but we also spend time helping the younger years, too.”

Perry’s friend, Angus, says, “It’s a great thing you’re doing, Potter. There have been too many students who haven’t pursued a NEWT in Potions because of Snape.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s the sort of prank that my godfather heartily approves of.”

“There’s a betting pool on what’s more likely to happen first,” Perry says. “Snape having a stroke from sheer rage or him quitting in high dudgeon.”

Harry laughs at that. “Always happy to provide entertainment.”

Perry and Angus are meeting girls from Ravenclaw, and so their more academic bent compared to most Gryffindors makes sense.

They don’t try to get into the dorm, but they aren’t kept waiting long. The two Ravenclaw girls are the first to emerge, dressed in pastels, and they wave a cheerful goodbye to Harry. Therese is the next to exit, and she’s wearing a deep yellow gown that makes her dark skin glow. Her braids have been twisted up to create a crown on her head, golden beads and baubles woven in that glimmer in the light. She has a dusting of gold on her eyelids and cheeks, and while Harry isn’t attracted to her in the conventional sense, he knows that she’s beautiful.

He does as his godfather instructed and pulls out his best manners, holding out a hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles. “You look wonderful,” he says.

“You do, too,” Therese replies. “Although your hair—“

“Is hopeless,” Harry agrees. “Sirius knows a spell that can tame it, but I haven’t mastered it yet.”

“Hm,” Therese says. “Let me try something quickly.”

She murmurs a spell in French, and Harry feels a strong wind blow through his hair. “Better,” she pronounces.

Harry offers her his arm, and she takes it, and they walk down to the Great Room together. The Champions and their dates will enter last, so Harry gets a cup of punch for each of them. There’s food, too, but he’s not sure what Therese likes, so he figures they can go back together later.

Therese is a few inches taller than him, and Harry figures that it could be awkward, but she’s very pretty, and she’s here with him, and that’s what matters.

Ron approaches with his date in tow, the third year he’s escorting flushed pink like her dress. She’s quietly pretty, with dark brown hair and eyes to match, and she looks very young.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron says a little desperately. “Have you seen Hermione?”

“I assume that she’s meeting her date,” Harry says.

“You’re still not going to tell me?” Ron demands.

Harry shrugs. “At this point, I’m kind of living for the look on your face when you realize who it is.”

The girl with Ron, Olive, says, “I don’t think I’ve had a chance to meet you yet.”

Harry winces. “I think my date’s beauty has ruined my manners. This is Therese Deschamps, a friend. Therese, this is Olive. She’s in Gryffindor, third year.”

Therese smiles kindly at the girl. “It’s all quite exciting, isn’t it?” she asks.

Olive giggles. “I love your accent.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “That’s kind of you to say.”

Dumbledore raises his arms at the front. “And now, your Champions!”

The doors to the Great Hall, which had been closed, now open again so that each Champion can be announced with their dates. Cedric Diggory is first, with Cho Chang, and they all clap. Fleur enters next on the arm of Roger Davies, who looks to be stunned speechless with his good fortune—or the Veela allure.

Therese leans in close to whisper in Harry’s ear in French. “Fleur says that he can barely string two words together in her presence.”

“I’m not sure he’s all that great at stringing words together at any point in time,” Harry replies.

Therese laughs, and then they announce Viktor Krum and his date, Hermione Granger. She’s wearing a pink dress that suits her coloring, her hair piled up on her head, and she’s pink-cheeked with excitement.

There are surprised whispers as people realize that it’s Hermione on Krum’s arm. Ron’s expression is probably the most amusing, since he looks as though he’s swallowed his tongue and is choking on it. Harry feels sorry for Olive, since she’s clearly beginning to realize that Ron had asked her as an afterthought, and is interested in someone else entirely.

“She looks absolutely magnificent,” Therese says, sounding as though she’s pleased for Hermione, rather than jealous.

“She does, doesn’t she?” Harry replies, also pleased for his friend.

“I imagine she probably doesn’t get to feel like the pretty one very often,” Therese comments.

“No, I don’t think she does,” Harry replies. “I’m really happy for her.”

“You’re a good friend, Harry,” Therese replies. “Let’s get something to eat while they have their dance. You can dance, can’t you, Harry?”

“A little,” Harry replies. “I might have to let you lead.”

Therese laughs. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” Harry says.

He’s glad that Sirius’ instructions on how to get a date had included how to act during the dance. He might have been tempted to sit with Ron otherwise, but Sirius’ instructions haven’t steered him wrong yet, so he focuses on Therese. He dances with her—poorly, but they both laugh at his mistakes, and she’s a gentle, patient teacher. They sit and talk with friends, and once Harry has an idea of what Therese likes, he goes and gets food.

At one point, Ron comes over, and he’s alone. “Where’s Olive?” Harry asks.

Ron shrugs. “I don’t know. She went off a while ago. Have you talked to Hermione?”

Harry waves a hand towards the dance floor, where Hermione is still dancing with Krum. She’d come by once to catch her breath and get a bite to eat, and then she’d been off dancing again. “She seems pretty happy.”

“I haven’t talked to her at all,” Ron complains.

Harry sighs. “Maybe you should find your date, try and talk to her. There aren’t a lot of third years here. She might not know many people.”

Ron waves a hand carelessly. “She’s fine. She wanted to come to the ball, and now she’s here.”

Therese’s lips are a moue of disgust, and Harry decides that it’s time to go back to his godfather’s instructions. “Therese, would you like to dance again?”

“I would, thank you, Harry,” Therese replies.

Harry ignores Ron’s pleading eyes and leads her back out. “I’m really sorry. I was kind of hoping that the instructions from Sirius would actually do him some good.”

“They’ve done me good,” Therese replies. “I have a charming date who has been very attentive. I’ll have to thank him the next time I see him. You’ve done him proud, Harry.”

Harry blushes. “Thank you. I hope you’ll tell him that.”

“Of course,” Therese says. “It will be my pleasure.”

Harry and Therese dance, and they get some sweet treats and punch after and they sit down at a table with Hermione and Krum. Hermione’s hair and dress are still in perfect condition, even after all that dancing, and her dark eyes sparkle.

“You look wonderful,” Harry tells her.

“So do you,” Hermione replies. “And you, Therese. I love that color.”

Therese smiles. “Thank you.”

Hermione stretches her feet out in front of her and glances apologetically at Krum. “I’m not sure I could dance another step tonight, Viktor.”

He smiles, and Harry thinks it’s the first time he’s seen that expression on Krum’s normally-dour face. “That is quite all right. We have done our duty.”

The party starts to wind down, and Harry walks Therese back to Ravenclaw Tower. “I’ll see you early tomorrow,” he says.

“You will,” Therese promises, kissing Harry on either cheek. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

“You, too,” Harry replies, and heads for Gryffindor Tower. He probably shouldn’t have gone by himself, or should have at least checked the map before leaving the entrance.

He doesn’t, though, and Harry sees Malfoy come around a corner, also alone. Malfoy stops and stares, his wand slipping into his hand.

Harry reaches for his own wand, but he’s not going to be the one to cast first.

Finally, Malfoy just nods shortly and gives Harry the widest berth he can as he passes.

Harry shakes his head in confusion, uncertain as to what had changed with Malfoy. He should welcome indifference, but he finds it unsettling, and he doesn’t know why.

~~~~~

Harry is glad that he’d shown Therese a good time at the Yule Ball, because this morning and their time with the Deschamps would be really awkward if he hadn’t.

He straightens, feeling his stomach do a slow flip before settling. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to portkeys, let alone international ones. At least Harry doesn’t throw up, and Sirius almost immediately side-alongs Therese to her grandmother’s house.

Harry knows that Sirius has been chomping at the bit to get him home, and for them to be together, mostly because he feels the same way. Remus slings at arm over Harry’s shoulders, and they both look up at the old place.

“It’s good to be home,” Harry says with a smile.

“It’s good to have you home,” Remus replies and leads the way inside.

Harry feels the joy bubble up, and he takes his trunk up the stairs to his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed. He puts his hands behind his head and takes a deep breath, reveling in the fact that he’s home.

“Are you hungry, Harry?” Remus calls up the stairs. “I’m making bacon sandwiches if you are.”

Harry is suddenly starving. He hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast other than tea, knowing better than to do so prior to taking an international portkey.

“That would be brilliant,” Harry calls, and quickly gets up to see if he can help.

Harry had never really felt appreciation for having a kitchen to cook in; at the Dursleys’, it had just been one more set of chores to come back to. But now he feels that appreciation, working companionably side-by-side with Remus.

Remus flips the bacon while Harry toasts bread, and soon Harry is sitting down with a sandwich and a cup of tea. Harry tries not to bolt his food, but the bread is from the village, and is some of the best Harry has ever eaten. The grease from the bacon soaks into the bread for a perfect sandwich.

“Thanks for this,” Harry says. “I was starving.”

“I thought you might want to eat something when you got home,” Remus replies. “I didn’t think you’d have eaten much before an international portkey.”

Harry nods. “I had a cup of tea, but that’s it.”

He’s nearly finished eating when Sirius returns from taking Therese home. “Lionel and Therese are coming over after lunch to play Quidditch.”

Harry can’t wait to get on a broom again. “Brilliant.”

“Are you ready to open presents?” Sirius asks, rocking a little back and forth, clearly excited.

That excitement is contagious, and Harry shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

Harry knows that he’d been with his parents for his first Christmas, but he has no memory of it, so this feels like the first Christmas he’s ever spent with family. It’s a new experience to open gifts that had been chosen for him, with the gift-giver looking on, clearly anxious for Harry to like them.

Harry loves the dragon-hide armor, and the fit is perfect. The new trunk is practical, but also very much appreciated, as is the wand-holster. Harry is happy to see the sweets, and he sincerely tells Winky how great her decorations are.

There’s a simple lunch, and Harry has just finished eating when there’s a knock at the door.

Harry looks at his dish. “I should—“

“You should go outside and enjoy your time with your friends,” Sirius replies firmly. “Lionel was especially excited to see you.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he hurries to open the front door. Lionel throws his arms around Harry exuberantly. “I have missed you, my friend!”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Harry says sincerely. “It’s so good to see you. Let me grab my broom.”

They’ve switched to French so naturally that Harry doesn’t even realize it. Harry thunders up the stairs to grab his broom from his locked trunk, and pulls on his coat.

Moments later, all three of them are on their brooms and passing the Quaffle back and forth. It’s a beautiful day, sunny but with a bit of a bite in the air. Therese shows both of them a couple of feints she’s done as a Chaser, and Harry demonstrates a couple of his more spectacular dives.

When Sirius signals the need to stop, Harry glides in and hops off his broom. Not even Christmas at Hogwarts could come close to this.

That night, they have dinner with Louise and the Deschamps, and Harry catches a glimpse of what it might be like to have a large, extended family. Louise has made cassoulet, and the rich, hearty meal tastes better even than the food at Hogwarts, but that might have something to do with the company.

Walking back that night under a starry sky, Harry honestly can’t remember the last time he was so happy. Remus asks him what he’d like to do after Hogwarts, and Harry realizes that a year ago he wouldn’t have been able to answer.

A thought strikes him, a dream of traveling around with Sirius, seeing places they would never dream of visiting with Voldemort still an issue. Places that Harry’s Muggle relatives would have never taken him, places Sirius couldn’t go while bunged up in Azkaban.

He adds it to the list of things he wants to accomplish once he’s out of Hogwarts, and says that he’d like to travel. It’s clear that Sirius doesn’t realize that Harry is picturing them going when tells Harry that he’ll fund his travels.

Harry is struck with uncertainty. Maybe Sirius will be glad to see the back of him when Harry is out of Hogwarts. “I, um, thought we could go together?”

Sirius’ eyes light up, and he wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I would love that. I just didn’t think you’d want to drag me along.”

Harry can feel Sirius’ love in the arm around his shoulders and the happiness in his voice at the thought of traveling together.

Maybe other teenagers his age would be in a hurry to leave home, but not Harry. Harry thinks he could revel in the sense of being at home forever.

As they enter the farmhouse, Sirius says, “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Harry isn’t worried at all, and he jokes, “Uh oh, am I in trouble?”

Sirius leads him into the library, and they sit down on either end of one of the couches. “Far from it. I had a question I wanted to ask you.” His expression is uncharacteristically grave, and maybe even a bit nervous. “There’s no pressure, and you can take as much time to think about it as you’d like.”

Harry feels a tinge of nerves now, too.

“Spit it out, Padfoot,” Remus says, and he sounds amused, so Harry knows it’s nothing bad.

“I took an oath as your godfather, and you took an oath as my heir. But there’s magical adoption as well. If I were to adopt you magically, there would be no question about you returning to the Dursleys. You’d be my son, as far as the magical world is concerned.”

Harry wonders if Sirius has been able to read his thoughts and desires, and he wonders what his parents might think. He’s nearly certain they’d have been happy for him. “You’d want that?” he asks.

Sirius is quick to say, “I would never presume to replace James or Lily. They’re your parents. But yes, I would like that very much.”

For the first time, Harry realizes that he might have an opportunity to be something other than “Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.” “Would I have to change my name?”

That doesn’t come out quite the way he intends, because Sirius quickly says, “Not if you don’t want to change it. You’re the last of the Potters, Harry.”

Harry likes the idea of being both a Potter and a Black. He could be someone new. “But you’re the last of the Blacks,” he replies. “Can I change my name?”

Remus seems to be the first to understand. “Of course you can. You can add Black to your name, or even hyphenate if you want.”

Harry suddenly feels as though he’s being offered something he told himself not to want, something he never thought he’d have. He thinks about the place that Sirius has taken up in his heart and mind. “And I could call you dad?”

Sirius doesn’t answer right away, and Harry quickly says, “If you don’t mind. If you don’t think my mum and dad would mind, but I don’t think they would.” He remembers the feeling he’d had in the cemetery, the sense that his parents approved. “Everything I know about them says that they wouldn’t mind if I had a second dad.”

Sirius is blinking rapidly. “No. James wouldn’t mind, I don’t think.”

Remus quickly steps in. “You know he wouldn’t.” He turns to Harry. “Your parents would want you to feel happy and secure, Harry. If this helps you to do that, they’d be happy for you.”

Sirius seems to push away his emotion. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. You’re the most important person in my life, Harry. No matter what you decide, nothing is going to change that.”

Harry hadn’t thought that anything could make this day better, but it has. He swallows hard around the lump of emotion in his throat. “I think—I want it. I want to know that I never have to go back to the Dursleys, that no one can send me back there. I want—I want everybody to know that I belong to you.”

Sirius almost glows with happiness. “We’ll get the adoption taken care of over the holiday. Andy wanted to meet you anyway, and I think you’ll like her daughter, Tonks. She’s a metamorphagus.”

Harry throws himself at Sirius, feeling Sirius’ strong arms close around him. After so many months being out of Azkaban and eating well, he’s still whipcord thin, but no longer gaunt or frail. He feels like home, and he whispers in Harry’s ear, “You’re mine.”

Harry feels a bit of a chill, knowing that Sirius would sacrifice his life for Harry’s, just as his parents had. “You’re mine, too. Don’t even think about dying.”

“Got it,” Sirius replies. “I have no intention of leaving you again, Harry.”

Harry stays where he is for several long breaths. “Don’t think this doesn’t include you, too, Uncle Moony,” Harry says, pulling back from Sirius and turning to Remus. “You’re our family as well.”

“I know that, Harry,” Remus says gently. “And I promise I won’t ever forget.”

~~~~~

Harry feels pretty good about his schoolwork, and he knows that he has a limited amount of time in France. He would have loved to spend the entire holiday there, but Therese and Lionel are only staying a week before going to Paris to spend the rest of the holiday with their parents.

He and Lionel easily fall back into the friendship they’d formed over the summer, and Harry is quite comfortable with Therese after the Yule Ball. The three of them form a trio that’s easy. Harry thinks it’s a bit like having cousins.

The thing is, he likes them both, and they’re both very attractive, but Harry isn’t interested in going much beyond that now. It’s enough to be friends.

Although they mostly spend their time playing Quidditch, the day before Harry’s due to leave, he’s in the library with Lionel and Therese, each of them with their own reading materials.

“It’s too bad that you’re not the Beauxbatons champion,” Lionel says idly. “We could come visit and see your events then, and I could see Harry.”

Therese laughs. “I see where I rate. And I’m not sorry. There’s a lot of pressure on Fleur to do well. I’m happy just to be a spectator.”

Harry nods firmly. “So am I. It’s nice not to be the center of attention. Did you hear anything about the second task?”

Therese shrugs. “Fleur said the golden egg they had to get from the dragon holds a clue, but she hadn’t figured it out before the Yule Ball.”

Harry is just glad he doesn’t have to worry about that. Instead, he can focus on the upcoming adoption ritual. He’s feeling a bit nervous about it, although he can’t say why.

He still hasn’t been able to bring himself to call Sirius “dad,” yet. It doesn’t feel quite natural, even though he often feels that the word is on the tip of his tongue.

“Are you excited for the ritual?” Lionel asks.

Harry had told both of them about Sirius’ offer to adopt him, and they had been supportive. He knows that Hermione and Neville will react the same way, but he has no idea what Ron’s response will be.

“A bit nervous, to be honest,” Harry replies. “I’m not sure what it will be like. I’ve only ever been involved with one other ritual before.”

“I’ve never been in one at all,” Lionel says. “You’ll have to write afterwards and tell me what it’s like.”

“I will,” Harry replies, since that will give him something to look forward to for after.

He bids Lionel a fond farewell that night, and he makes sure to wear his armor under his clothing the next morning. Sirius had impressed upon him the importance of wearing the armor any time he’s not at Hogwarts.

The armor is spelled to be comfortable, and it’s thin as well, so it fits easily under the green sweater he pulls on.

Sirius checks to make sure that Harry has it on before activating the portkey, and Harry does the same. He isn’t sure what warned Sirius, but as soon as he calls to them to duck, Harry drops.

His wand is in his hand a moment later, but Sirius is already shouting to Remus to get him inside the house. “Dad!” Harry protests, even as Remus is trying to push him inside.

He doesn’t even think about using that word; it just comes out of his mouth.

“You have the trace on you, Harry! We can’t risk it!” Sirius says, waving him inside.

Harry realizes that he’s a distraction right now, and that he needs to either get inside or start fighting, thereby going against a direct order. Dobby appears and grabs his hand, not giving Harry a choice as he pops them inside.

That gives Harry an idea for how he can help Sirius without getting into trouble. “Dobby, can you go to Director Bones and bring her here? Tell her that Sirius is being attacked by Death Eaters, and we need the Aurors.”

“Dobby will!”

He pops away, and Harry shifts nervously. There’s no way for him to see what’s going on outside without putting himself in danger. At least Remus is there to watch Sirius’ back, and then Dobby pops back in.

“Director Bones is here, Master Harry Potter,” Dobby reports. “I bring her.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry replies, feeling relief. If Director Bones is here, it means she’s probably brought Aurors.

He stays in the front entrance, waiting anxiously for Sirius to appear. When he does, Harry can see that he’s hurt.

Sirius is quick to reassure him, and Director Bones is quite direct when she reminds him of the ban on underage magic. But she’s also quite enthusiastic about the adoption, and has more information about family magic and pooling legacies. She suggests they get tea while the healer looks over Sirius and Remus.

“You’re not worried about the adoption, are you?” Director Bones asks. “As I said, an adoption is not a rejection of your parents, but rather the addition of another.”

“It’s not really like that in the Muggle world,” Harry replies. “At least, not as I understand it.”

“It’s a bit different in the magical world,” Director Bones says. “And no one who hears about it will think any less of you. In fact, most people would probably assume that Sirius would adopt you, because it does give him more rights to intercede on your behalf.”

“Like doing what?” Harry asks.

“If you had been forced to defend yourself, and you were accused of using underage magic, Sirius could argue that you were using it in defense of your parent,” Bones replies. “And that carries more weight, of course.”

Harry hadn’t really thought about the benefits that Sirius would be gaining, and he could see where Sirius would view that as a net gain.

“Your godfather is gaining more power and influence in the Wizengamot,” Bones says as Harry thinks about that. “And that means you’ll be getting more scrutiny, young man. It’s important that you remember that.”

“They’ll come at me to get to Sirius,” Harry sums up.

Bones nods. “I’m a bit of a stickler with Susan’s security for that reason. You’ll want to think about your own security, Harry. I understand that you want to help Sirius, but he’s always going to be worried more about your skin than his own when you’re around.”

Harry winces, because he knows he’d probably taken too long arguing with Sirius, distracting him from the curses being thrown his way. “I understand.”

“I’m glad you do,” Bones replies. “I’m rather fond of your godfather at this point. He’s a powerful force for good in the Wizengamot, so take care of yourself, Harry.”

Harry goes to start the kettle, and Kreacher pops in. “Lord Black not trust Kreacher with his guests. Thinks Kreacher is good for nothing.”

Harry quickly takes his hands off the kettle. “Sorry, Kreacher. Force of habit. You make much better tea than I do anyway.”

Kreacher grumbles under his breath, and Harry says, “I think we’d best get out of his way.”

Bones smiles. “I think you’re right about that.”

When they come back out, both Sirius and Remus are bare-chested, and have been patched up. Remus has to help Sirius with his shirt, which he does without comment, and Harry watches, thinking that he would like a partner like that someday. Someone who just quietly helps him get on with the business of life without making a big deal of it.

They have a nice tea with Director Bones, and when she finds out about Dobby trying to get him expelled, she says she’d see about getting his record expunged. Harry figures it’s time well spent.

And then they’re off to Black Manor, and there’s a room there for Harry as well, and Nimbly the house elf has enchanted the ceiling. There’s the painting of Arcturus Black to talk to, and Harry had thought he’d feel overwhelmed or like he doesn’t belong, but instead he has an enchanted ceiling and a portrait who remembers his parents.

At the Manor, Harry doesn’t have the distraction of friends, and so he mainly focuses on getting ready for the next term, using that as a distraction from the upcoming ritual. Sirius has told him that Andromeda, her husband, and her daughter will be in attendance, in addition to Narcissa Malfoy—but just her.

Harry isn’t sure how he feels about going from having no relatives who would want to claim him, to having a good-sized extended family.

Especially since one of those relatives is going to be a Malfoy, and the others had been disowned from the Black family.

At least he knows that Sirius isn’t going to stand for Harry getting mistreated by anyone.

He feels a little better after his conversation with Sirius. It actually helps to think that Malfoy is a bit like Dudley, shaped by his parents, especially his father. Maybe, if his mum gets more involved, Malfoy might not be as much of a wanker. He’s already ignoring Harry, after all.

Sirius insists on formal dress robes for the ceremony, and they’re heavy on Harry’s shoulders. He has a little time before he needs to be in the foyer to greet their guests, and so he goes to the gallery.

There’s something about Arcturus’ portrait that Harry finds comforting.

“You’re looking quite handsome, my boy,” Arcturus says. “Are you ready for this?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I kind of can’t stand Lucius Malfoy, and Narcissa is going to be here.”

“What did Sirius say about that?” Arcturus asks.

Harry laughs a little at that. “It’s a Black family tradition to have at least one cousin you can’t stand.”

Arcturus chuckles at that. “He’s not wrong. I had a second cousin, once removed, who frequently picked fights with me when we were young. I lost track of the number of times he tried to curse me in the back.”

“Why would he do that?” Harry asks.

“I was the heir, and he thought he could wrest control from me,” Arcturus replies. “But as I remember, Sirius was absolutely vicious in his defense of his brother, at least until Regulus sorted into Slytherin and ceased talking to him. He’ll be even more vicious when he comes to protecting his son.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how this is going to feel, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Arcturus pauses. “There is nothing you could do that would be embarrassing, Harry, not unless you pull out at the last second.”

“I don’t plan to do that,” Harry says. “But what if I cry or something?”

“Tears can be a natural reaction to overwhelming events,” Arcturus says. “And this may very well be overwhelming for you. You will be gaining a parent, a family, and a magical legacy.”

“It’s a very big deal,” Harry murmurs.

“It is,” Arcturus confirms. “You will be embraced by the Black family magic, Harry, never fear that.”

Harry feels a little steadier after that, and he joins Sirius in the foyer. Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulders, offering what assurances he can. Harry likes Andy and Ted and Tonks a lot, and he’s pleased to see Ted’s delight in being included in the ritual.

Narcissa is tall and beautiful, with icy blue eyes, her hair pulled back into a classic chignon. She is cold and formal, but when Harry matches her formality, her eyes warm slightly.

The ritual itself is a bit like the one Andres had done to cleanse his scar, at least from the standpoint that it’s conducted in a language foreign to Harry, and he doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on. The blue flames that surround him are warm and comforting, though, and he can feel the bond to Sirius blooming brightly in his chest as the weight of the Black family magic falls on him.

Harry can actually feel his features shifting. It’s the strangest sensation, and Sirius looks a bit stunned as he tells Harry that he bears a resemblance to his dead brother.

For his part, though, Harry feels settled with a bone-deep contentment. His parents are still his parents, but now Sirius is his dad. Harry is a Black now, and he has the family ties to prove it. Harry can feel the links to Andy and Narcissa and Tonks, and more faintly, to Ted and Remus.

Harry had been afraid that he might cry in front of everyone, and he can see that both Narcissa and Andy are crying, but he just feels elated.

It feels like flying.

After the ceremony, Harry is starving, and he fills a plate. “What year are you at Hogwarts, Harry?” Tonks asks.

“Fourth,” Harry replies, mindful that he doesn’t talk with his mouth full.

“Who do you think will win the Triwizard Tournament?” Tonks asks.

Harry hesitates. “Hard to say. They’re all strong contenders, but I’m rooting for Cedric, of course.”

“Well, of course,” Tonks replies. “And I know I hated it when people used to ask me, but do you know what you want to do after?”

“Healing, I think,” Harry says. “But that’s subject to change.”

Tonks grins. “Aurors for me. Maybe you’ll be patching me up someday.”

Harry grins back. “Maybe so.”

Narcissa has been talking to Sirius, and she now begins to glide towards him.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Tonks mutters. “Good luck, Cousin Harry.”

Harry braces himself for whatever Narcissa is about to say to him. “I could feel the depth of Sirius’ love for you, Harry,” she says, which isn’t what Harry expects at all.

Harry nods. “I could, too.”

“It was quite effecting,” Narcissa says. “I would like to speak with you about Draco.”

Harry nods warily. “Okay. Sirius said you were the reason he’s been ignoring me.”

“I warned him that he should treat the Black heir kindly,” Narcissa says. “And if he couldn’t do that, then he should leave you alone.”

Harry isn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he replies, “Thank you.”

“You and Draco will both have ancestral seats in the Wizengamot,” Narcissa says. “I keep reminding Draco that he will continue seeing you after you have both left school. It would be wise to find some sort of common ground.”

Harry grimaces. “I’m not opposed to that, but I doubt he’ll agree.”

“Oh, he will,” Narcissa promises grimly. “Never you fear about that, Cousin Harry. And, if you’d permit me, there are things I can tell you about dealing with pureblood politics that no one else will.”

If Harry has learned anything over the last months, it’s that dealing with pureblood politics, even aside from Voldemort, is going to be a fact of life for the foreseeable future. He’s also learned that planning is important, as is strategy, and he thinks that he and Narcissa need each other in a way.

“I would very much appreciate that,” Harry says politely. “Thank you, Cousin.”

Narcissa smiles slowly. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Cousin. Just remember that patience is rewarded, if only by irritating Draco. You may write to me during the school year.”

Harry shakes her hand formally, and then bows slightly. “Thank you. I shall.”

Narcissa inclines her head and drifts away, and Harry wonders just what he’s got himself into, but he feels as though he’s going back to Hogwarts with the sense of having an anchor, weighing him down in the best possible way.

He remembers what he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised, and thinks that this is even better, a family that he and Sirius have stitched together, both of them coming from a place of want.

Harry thinks that what they build will be even better for it.

~~~~~

There are only a couple of days between the adoption ritual and Harry’s return to school, and Harry finds himself craving time with Sirius. Even if he’s studying or reading, Harry gravitates towards Sirius, who seems to feel the same way.

The day he’s to return to Hogwarts, they’ve decided that Harry will take the train from King’s Cross. Harry is even more reluctant to return to school than he had been at the beginning of the school year.

Harry bids Sirius and Remus a fond, reluctant farewell, and then gets on the train. He anticipates that it will be a lonely journey, since a lot of the students in fourth year and above had stayed at Hogwarts.

He has the compartment to himself at first, but then a blonde girl who looks vaguely familiar pokes her head inside. “May I sit with you?” she asks.

Harry straightens in his seat. “Of course. I’m sorry, I feel like I should know you, but—“

“Luna Lovegood,” she says. “I’ve come to a few of your study groups.”

“Oh, right,” Harry says immediately. “Sorry about that, Luna.”

Luna smiles vaguely. “Well, everyone knows who you are, Harry Potter. You can’t be expected to know who everyone else is.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, appreciating her understanding. In his experience, people have expectations of him that may not be realistic, but that doesn’t really seem to matter most of the time.

“Your adoption settled really well,” Luna offers. “I don’t see any wrackspurts around you any more.”

Harry blinks, not quite sure how to respond to that comment. “Oh, um, that’s good. It was kind of a relief.”

Thinking of Sirius makes Harry’s heart hurt, and he rubs his chest. He’s not sure why he suddenly feels uneasy, but he does.

“They say that the adoption ritual deepens the bond between the parents and child even more than normal,” Luna suddenly offers.

“I didn’t know that,” Harry replies. “I could feel the bond form during the ritual, of course, but I wasn’t sure if it would settle down or not.”

“It might not,” Luna says vaguely. “It depends on the person.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was quite nice,” Luna replies. “It’s just me and my dad, but I don’t mind that.”

Harry doesn’t ask what happened to her mum, deciding that he’ll let Luna offer that information if she chooses to do so.

And, in fact, she does say, “My mum died when I was quite young. She liked to experiment with spells, you see.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry says, not knowing what else to say. He never knows what to say in situations like this.

Luna smiles. “It happened a long time ago.”

Harry knows that sort of grief, old and well-worn. You tuck it away, and you don’t always want to bring it out to parade it in front of strangers.

“Are you going to continue running the study group, Harry?” Luna asks, breaking the silence.

“Right through the end of the year,” Harry confirms. “The goal is to make sure that everyone has the chance to get passing grades, and we help each other out.”

Luna nods. “I like that, Harry. We don’t help each other enough.”

“No, I don’t think we do,” Harry replies. “But I plan on it. I don’t want surviving Voldemort to be the only thing that people remember about me.”

“I don’t think there’s any fear of that,” Luna replies. Harry rubs his chest again, and she asks, “Is your heart still bothering you?”

“I’m not sure if it’s my heart,” Harry replies. “But yeah, I guess.” It’s not like when his scar had hurt; this is more of a dull ache, rather than a sharp pain.

“Perhaps it’s just the distance,” Luna suggests. “It’s the first time you’ve been away from your family since the ritual.”

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the sensation. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

By the time they get to the school, though, Harry thinks he knows what happened. He’s not the only student to have a communication mirror, and those parents who had a means to communicate with their kids had hastened to reassure them that they were safe.

Which, of course, suggests that Sirius and Remus might not be okay, but Harry thinks he’d know if that were the case. All the reports filtering through the student body say that Sirius and Remus had been in the middle of things, and that means they probably don’t have time to call Harry right now.

The other story making its way around the students is that Lucius Malfoy had been one of those who had attacked Sirius and Remus, and that he’s in custody.

Harry’s immediate thought is relief, since it means one less enemy for Sirius and his plans for the Wizengamot. His next thought is for Narcissa, and how disappointed she must be. And then he can’t help but think of Malfoy, because Harry would be incredibly upset if Sirius got arrested again.

And, as though the thought summoned him, Malfoy comes around the corner. Harry is on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, and he probably shouldn’t be alone, but Malfoy and most of the unfriendly Slytherins have been ignoring him for weeks now. Harry just isn’t thinking about it.

“You!” Malfoy hisses. “You’re the reason they’re going to send my father to Azkaban!”

Harry is expecting a curse or a hex or a jinx, so the punch to the face comes as a complete surprise.

Harry’s wand is in his hand immediately, but something holds him back. He remembers what Sirius had warned him about, what Moody had said, that he could take someone’s wand arm off if he wasn’t careful.

So, instead, he backs off. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Damn you, Potter!” Draco shouts. “Fight back!”

“Why?” Harry asks. “So you can justify punching me?”

“That’s enough!” Moody stomps down the hall with all due speed. “Malfoy, detention. Potter, stow your wand.”

Harry puts his holly wand back in its holster, while Malfoy stands in the hall, his right hand clenched in a fist around his wand, and his other fist pulled back as though he hasn’t given up on the idea of having another go at Harry.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor McGonagall calls. “Come along. Right now.”

“And put your wand away,” Moody orders. “Immediately, unless you want me to turn you into a ferret.”

Malfoy’s scowl deepens, but he puts his wand away, and McGonagall grips him tightly by the shoulder. “Come with me,” she says. “You can explain yourself to your Head of House, and why you’ve lost Slytherin twenty-five points.”

Harry winces. Slytherin is not going to weather that hit well. They’re already way behind on points.

“And what about you?” Moody says, rounding on Harry. “Were you just going to stand there and take it?”

Harry shrugs uncomfortably. “I wasn’t expecting Malfoy to resort to physical violence. I thought he’d send a hex at me.”

Moody huffs. “I’m going to start adding physical responses to our dueling sessions. A skilled duelist can use both, and if you’re fighting without rules, you have to expect a punch to the face as much as a curse. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

Harry winces. “Yes, sir.”

Hermione, Neville, and Ron come running up to them. “Harry!” Hermione calls. “We saw Professor McGonagall marching Malfoy off. Are you all right?”

Harry touches his eye gently. “Malfoy got in a lucky shot, but yeah, I’m fine.”

“Have you heard from your godfather?” Ron asks.

Harry hesitates. “No, not yet.”

Moody snorts. “Godfather? Not likely. Did the adoption ritual over the holiday, didn’t you?”

Harry flushes. “You can tell?”

“Got more of the Black look about you now,” Moody says gruffly. “Still look like James, but you stand next to Sirius, and they’ll likely assume he’s your dad if they don’t know any better. Looks like it settled well.”

Harry hesitates. “Is it normal to feel the distance after an adoption ritual?”

Moody’s eyes narrow. “You get a phantom pain?”

“In my chest,” Harry confirms.

Moody nods. “You probably felt Sirius through the bond. That might fade in time, or it might not. Adoption rituals are interesting that way. You two seem quite compatible, so only time will tell.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I’m sure he’ll contact me once he has the chance. I doubt he thought the news would make it to Hogwarts so quickly.”

“Let’s get to dinner,” Neville says. “Best not to be in the middle of eating when your dad calls you.”

“True,” Harry replies. “All right, let’s go eat.”

It’s nice to be back with his friends, even though he already misses Sirius and Remus, and he’s anxious to hear from them, but he figures that someone would have told him if they’d heard that they’d been hurt.

Harry is still in the Great Hall when his communication mirror vibrates, and he excuses himself to find a quiet classroom where he can answer. Sirius’ face fills the mirror, although Harry can catch a glimpse of Remus over Sirius’ shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks.

Sirius blinks, and Harry knows that he’s probably taking in the sight of Harry’s black eye. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“This?” Harry asks. “This is nothing.”

Remus is the one to respond. “It doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me. What happened?”

Harry makes a decision that his dad and uncle don’t need the full details. For example, they don’t need to know that he’d refused to fight back, because that will just worry them. Harry has his own reasons for refraining, and he’s not interested in discussing it to death.

Sure, Malfoy got in a good shot, but Harry’s had worse from Dudley and his friends, and for no reason at all. Malfoy may have had a terrible reason, but at least there had been one.

Harry is glad when Sirius and Remus stop prodding him to explain Malfoy and his reactions, and turn to what had actually happened.

Of course, the story doesn’t make Harry feel any better. His dad and Remus had gone after the Death Eaters and Peter Pettigrew without backup. It’s frustrating.

At least his guilt trip seems to be fairly effective, and he extracts a promise that they’ll be more careful in the future.

After the call, Harry does as he said he would, and heads for the library. He has classes to prepare for the next day, and he’d hate to get points taken just because Malfoy had punched him in the face, and his dad had been attacked. That would be like letting Lucius win.

Hermione is studying with Krum, and Harry is a bit amused that they’re building on their relationship. He knows that Ron doesn’t know quite what to do with it, based on the way Ron is sitting on the end of their table and shooting suspicious looks their way.

“Is everything okay?” Hermione whispers.

Harry nods. “All is well.”

They work right up until it’s curfew, and then head for the Gryffindor common room.

“Is Sirius okay, Harry?” Ron asks as they walk back.

Harry shrugs. “He said he was, but that he’d been asked to pretend he wasn’t—and that’s not for public consumption.”

If it had been anyone with him other than Ron, Neville, and Hermione, Harry wouldn’t have said as much. “No one is supposed to know that he’s wearing armor,” he adds.

“No, that would be stupid,” Hermione agrees. “It might result in them going after Sirius with a different tactic and disastrous consequences.”

Harry shrugs. “They’ve agreed to be more careful in the future, and that’s all I can ask for. Dad seemed to be in good spirits at least, and he was probably more worried about my black eye than his own skin.”

They step through the portrait hole after Ron gives the password, “Animo.”

“And you’ll need your courage, my dearies,” the Fat Lady says. “And Harry, love, have you seen Madame Pomfrey for that eye?”

“I have some arnica balm in my trunk that we made over the summer,” Harry tells her. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

“I’m surprised that Professor McGonagall didn’t make you see Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione mutters.

Harry shakes his head. “I’ve had much worse from Dudley and his gang. It’s a bit sore, but no headache, no dizziness, nothing like that. Besides, did you see Slytherin’s house points? And Malfoy has detention. They’re not going to risk losing more points, and that will weigh in our favor as well.”

Harry does put some balm on his eye that night, and by the next morning, the swelling and discoloration is gone.

“Dobby,” Harry calls.

Dobby pops into their dorm room. “Master Harry Potter was hurt!” Dobby says. “I not be doing my job.”

“You’re doing a great job, Dobby,” Harry replies. “No one expects someone to randomly haul off and hit them in the face. It’s Malfoy’s fault, and no one else’s.”

“Dobby be teaching young Master Malfoy a lesson,” Dobby mutters almost under his breath, but Harry doesn’t have any problem hearing him. In this case, he decides not to intervene.

“Just make sure you don’t get caught, Dobby,” Harry advises him.

“Dobby better than that,” Dobby replies.

Harry isn’t going to argue about that. “Stay safe.”

When he goes down for dinner the next day—in the company of several Gryffindors, including Neville and Ron—he’s met at the door by Malfoy, who is standing stiffly.

Ron and Neville have their wands out immediately, but Harry holds up a hand. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“My mother has instructed me to apologize,” Malfoy says, his expression such that it looks like he’s just eaten something terrible.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Any time now.”

Malfoy’s expression grows even more pinched. “I’m sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Harry inclines his head graciously. “Your apology is accepted. I will write Cousin Narcissa and let her know that we’ve mended fences.”

Malfoy appears torn between rage and relief. “Thank you, Cousin.”

Harry just barely manages not to smirk at him. It feels good to have the upper hand for once. Malfoy had always seemed to have a leg up, but that’s been lost.

In the next moment, Harry thinks about how Malfoy must feel, but it doesn’t dampen his enjoyment.

Malfoy turns on his heel and stalks off, and Neville says, “That doesn’t happen every day.”

“I doubt it happens once in a blue moon,” Harry replies. “But it doesn’t matter. His mum got him to apologize, and I suspect that his popularity among his housemates will take a dip.”

By the end of the meal, Harry can see how right he is. Not even Crabbe or Goyle are sitting next to him, and Malfoy is left on his own at the end of the table.

Harry has been lonely before, and so he can muster up a bit of empathy for Malfoy, although he has no intention of doing anything about it.

Harry puts it out of his mind. He wants to focus on his classes, his lessons with Moody, and start back up on his meditation exercises. He needs to work on it if he’s going to become an animagus, and Harry feels solid enough on his classes that he feels comfortable taking the time.

It probably helps that Harry has several other students who are also interested in becoming animagi, He has a reason to work on it, and so he does.

He also finds time to spend with Therese, although just as friends. They study together, sometimes with Fleur, Krum, and Hermione. No one other than Ron seems to mind. When Hermione and Krum are together, though, Ron doesn’t seem to know who to be most jealous of.

Harry has also started up a written correspondence with Narcissa.

Dear Cousin Cissy,

You needn’t fear. Draco did apologize. I’m keeping a bit of an eye on the situation, because I think the rest of the Slytherins are waiting to see just how poorly they can or ought to treat him. I did have a question about etiquette. What’s the best way to respond to an enemy politely?

Warm regards,

Harry

A few days later, Harry gets a letter from a large eagle owl. Harry knows that it belongs to the Malfoys, because Draco’s head comes up and tracks its progress, clearly disappointed when it drops a letter in front of Harry.

My dear cousin,

Thank you for accepting Draco’s apology. I suspect that he was not entirely gracious about it, but it’s the mark of a gentleman to take the higher road in such a situation.

To answer your question, though, you must not offer an insult. It’s tempting in the short term, but will do you no favors in the long term. Far better to offer a neutral statement, or to say something that the other person will take as an insult even though it’s not one on its face. Sirius is quite good at this, when he makes the effort.

Best,

Cousin Cissy

Harry grins to himself upon reading that. He knows exactly what she means, just by what she says in her letter, and knowing how Sirius had tweaked Lucius in the first Wizengamot session, by reminding Lucius that private family business is meant to be private.

“Who’s writing to you?” Hermione asks curiously.

“Narcissa Malfoy,” Harry admits. “She offered to provide insights into pureblood politics, and I feel like it’s a worthy pursuit. It will help me in the future.”

Hermione frowns. “You don’t think she’ll influence you in a way that would be to her advantage?”

“I grew up with Muggles,” Harry points out. “I understand them. I don’t much understand purebloods, and I’m a half-blood anyway. It’s not as if I’m going to turn into a raging bigot.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Hermione admits. “I can’t see you turning into a bigot, if only because your dad would pound sense into your head if you did.”

Hermione is one of the few who consistently refer to Sirius as his dad, which is really nice. Neville does fairly well, too, but Ron seems to have a mental block.

Or he just doesn’t care enough to try, but since there are a lot of things that Ron can’t bring himself to care about, Harry doesn’t feel slighted.

Harry also makes sure to check up on Sirius, because if recent events taught him anything at all, it’s that his dad attracts trouble more than Harry does.

Sirius always takes his calls when Harry uses the mirror, and Harry tries to call at a time when he thinks it’s most likely that his dad will be free.

And, sure enough, Harry sees a strange background when he calls. Since it’s evening, at a time when Sirius should be either at Grimmauld Place or Black Manor, Harry knows that something is up. Finding out that Remus had been attacked, and they’re in Paris for treatment both worries him and gives him comfort. He’s glad that there’s someone Remus can trust to treat him well.

~~~~~

Coming up to the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry is pleased with his progress. The study group is growing, and it’s not just Potions grades that are improving, but grades across the board. If things continue, those involved may very well have their best academic year yet.

Harry has realized that he’s started viewing the Hogwarts students as his own, and he feels responsibility for them, and that’s also causing him to pay attention to Malfoy. Well, that and his correspondence with Cousin Cissy.

She doesn’t really mention Draco much, or ask Harry to do anything, but the mere act of communicating with Draco’s mum has Harry paying more attention to Draco, who is clearly not doing well.

No one sits with him at meals, and Harry thinks he’s being mistreated between classes in the halls. The thing about Slytherins is that they respect strength, and Draco is rapidly losing his position.

Harry isn’t sure whether he would have noticed or cared if he hadn’t been writing letters back and forth with Narcissa. Or maybe he would have. He’s been aware of Draco since they first met.

Harry can’t explain it, and it freaks him out when he thinks about it, so he resolutely doesn’t think about it.

On this Hogsmeade weekend, Harry tells his friends that he needs to speak with his dad and uncle on his own. Based on his conversation with them when they’d been in Paris, and the fact that they had another Wizengamot session between, Harry knows they’ll be expecting to see him privately.

Harry doesn’t mind. He’s craving time spent with the two of them, maybe due to the adoption, but he also thinks it’s just because he likes spending time with them, and he’s luxuriating in the idea that there are people who care.

He parts with the others outside the Three Broomsticks. When he enters, Rosemerta smiles at him. “Hello, Harry. Your dad is back in a private room. I’ll show the way.”

She leads him to a private room, and Harry fake gags when he sees Sirius kissing Remus, just because he feels like it’s the normal thing to do, and not because he thinks it’s gross. He has parents now, and they love each other, and they love him, and Harry is happy.

“If you can joke about it, you can deal with us exchanging pecks on the lips,” Sirius replies, clearly amused.

Harry has to admit that he deserves that comment, after his joke about the Paris trip. He listens attentively as they give him a run down of the last Wizengamot session, and everything else, and Harry appreciates their confidence in him. He likes that he’s being included, which is why it stings so much when they tell him that they’ll be hunting down the last horcrux without him.

It does feel good to know that his horrible nightmare/memory is at least useful in figuring out what the last horcrux is, even if he’s not allowed to help.

And there’s some small part of him that appreciates the fact that he’s not being told to just man up and figure it out, but is instead being given real information.

It feels good to have actual parents, especially as he’s trying to work out what his obligation to Draco is.

Sirius doesn’t tell him not to worry, or not to help. Instead, he helps Harry work through the best course of action on his own. By the end of it, Harry is feeling more settled in his own mind, and he has a plan that he can live with.

He gets hugs from both Sirius and Remus, and Harry thinks his dad might be just as reluctant to let go of him as Harry is to leave. Harry longs for the summer, which is an unfamiliar feeling.

Harry takes a deep breath as he leaves the Three Broomsticks, and waves when he sees Hermione walking with Krum. He’s going to leave them to it, but Hermione calls him over.

“Where did everyone else go?” Harry asks.

Hermione shrugs. “Ron was being weird again. It’s like he can act normal for the space of half an hour, and then he starts making comments, acting like a complete arse.”

“It’s because he doesn’t know who to be an arse to,” Harry says. “You or Viktor.”

“I have noticed this,” Krum says with wry good humor. “He is confused, perhaps.”

“It’s as good an explanation as any,” Harry says. “I think Ron is confused about a lot these days.”

Hermione scowls. “He’d better get his head on straight soon, or I’ll be talking to Mrs. Weasley about him.”

“Oooh, harsh,” Harry says. “But probably no more than he deserves after the Yule Ball, especially if he treats his next date like he treated Olive.”

Hermione laughs. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure she minded. In that respect, at least, Ron was right. She was mostly using him to go to the ball.”

“So, Ron doesn’t have the reputation of being a terrible date yet?” Harry asks.

Hermione shrugs. “Oh, he does, but he might be able to shed that reputation with time.” She has one arm through Krum’s as they start to walk back up to the castle, and she nudges him with the other. “What about you and Therese? You’ve been quite cozy.”

Harry shrugs. “The Deschamps are family friends. My dad and Uncle Moony know them, and Therese’s grandmother. We spent a lot of time together over the holidays.”

“I’m glad that you made a friend outside of school, Harry,” Hermione says.

Krum nods. “It’s best. I have my teammates to help keep me sane when the school politics get to be too much.”

Harry blows out a breath. “Exactly. So, have you figured out the second task yet?”

Krum gives him a dark look, and Harry raises his hands. “I’m not asking for details, just if you’d figured it out.”

Krum nods shortly. “Da. Yes. I think so. I’m still considering my strategy.”

“Well, based on your performance at the World Cup, I’m sure you’ll do well, even if I can’t cheer you on,” Harry says cheerfully.

That actually causes a smile to appear on Krum’s dour face. “I like you, Potter. I’d like to play Quidditch against you some day.”

“You could visit me in France,” Harry says. “I’ll be there this summer.”

“Or you and Hermione could visit me in Bulgaria,” Krum counters. “My family home is beautiful there.”

“I’m pretty close to my dad,” Harry says. “I plan to spend the summer with him.”

Krum frowns. “Forgive me, but I thought—“ He stops abruptly. “No, I’m sorry. It was rude to mention it.”

“My godfather did a magical adoption ritual over the holiday,” Harry says readily. “I’m not noising it about, but you don’t strike me as the sort to tell tales to the Daily Prophet.”

“I’m not,” Krum says. Then he smiles. “Diggory is a good competitor, but I am a little sorry to not be going up against you, Potter.”

“I’m just glad to have a quiet year for once,” Harry says.

But he can kind of see why Hermione likes Krum so much now.

~~~~~

Harry isn’t really close to Cedric, so he knows next to nothing about the second task. His first inkling as to what it is comes when he realizes that Hermione is missing.

There had been rumors going around the school that all the Champions are worried about the task, but they aren’t saying much else, which makes sense to Harry. After all, they wouldn’t want to give an advantage to one of the other competitors.

But then Hermione isn’t at breakfast, and her dorm mates say that she’d been called to the Headmaster’s office early and hadn’t been seen since. As everyone starts looking around, they all quickly realize that Cho Chang is also missing.

“Does it have something to do with the task, do you think?” Ron asks. “I mean, Hermione and Krum are still whatever they are, and Cho is dating Cedric.”

“Is there anyone else missing for Fleur?” Harry asks.

Neville cranes his neck. “I don’t see anyone else missing.”

“The Champions aren’t here either,” Harry says. “Maybe they’ve already eaten?”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Ron says, but he looks a bit worried, probably over Hermione.

They eat breakfast, and then Dumbledore announces the beginning of the second task and directs them all down to the lake.

Harry and all of the other Hogwarts students are all wearing their buttons proclaiming their support of Cedric, and they troop outside. There are stands set up the way they’re set up for Quidditch matches, and Harry sits between Ron and Neville.

Ludo Bagman casts a sonorous charm and begins explaining the task, which consists of the Champions swimming out to rescue a hostage from the merpeople.

Harry frowns. He can’t believe that they’re using students as hostages—or worse, when he realizes who Fleur’s hostage is: her little sister. Harry can see her parents standing on the shore, clutching each other’s hands. Harry hopes that they’d at least done something to ensure her sister’s safety, and offered her parents some reassurance, but after the fiasco with the dragon’s eggs, Harry doesn’t have a lot of faith in the Tournament’s facilitators.

Fleur and Cedric cast the Bubble-Head charm, whereas Krum tries a shark transformation. It’s not a terribly exciting task from the perspective of spectator, since they have no idea what’s going on under the lake’s surface. They just sit there in the February cold, and before the end of the hour, Cedric returns with Cho, and Krum returns with Hermione.

Fleur comes out of the lake in tears before the end of the hour, but without her sister. The Delacours are clutching each other, and Harry wonders if he’s going to watch a little girl’s lifeless body be taken out of the lake.

A few minutes after the bell rings, though, there’s a ripple in the water, and one of the merpeople surfaces with a small, blonde girl who bears a striking resemblance to Fleur.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief when the little girl throws her arms around Fleur and someone throws a blanket around both of them.

“What the bloody hell were they thinking?” Harry mutters. “Putting a little kid like that in the lake.”

“Dunno, mate,” Neville says. “Maybe Hermione will be able to tell us what they were told.”

Cedric gets the most points, with Krum just after him, and Fleur last. Hermione is on the shore with Krum, speaking quietly with him, and Harry, Ron, and Neville wait for her.

Hermione approaches them with a smile on her face. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“How was it?” Ron asks. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Hermione says easily. “It was all quite civilized. Headmaster Dumbledore explained what our role was, and that we’d be quite safe. We were all asleep until we got out of the lake. It was a bit of a doddle, to be honest.”

“Did the Delacours know that?” Harry asks. “Because it doesn’t seem as though they did, given how worried they looked.”

Hermione’s smile falters. “Well, I would assume so, but… Maybe not in French? Or it’s possible that they just assumed that Fleur would be successful.” She frowns. “Oh, dear. They really should have found another hostage for Fleur. She and Therese are quite close.”

Harry would have been worried for Therese, but it would have saved the Delacours needless concern.

“Merlin’s pants, I can’t even believe what it is they’re doing,” Harry says, feeling the anger build. “Destroying dragon eggs, kidnapping little kids…”

Hermione links his his arm with her own. “No one was in jeopardy today, Harry, other than the champions. But I know you worry about others, and you’re not wrong. They’re rather careless, aren’t they?”

“It’s like they think magic can fix anything, so they’ll just do whatever they like,” Harry mutters.

He’s definitely glad not to be involved in this fiasco.

~~~~~

Harry feels a little better after talking to his dad and Remus after the second task. Maybe he wouldn’t have thought about rescuing the other hostages if he’d been under the same pressure as Cedric.

He still thinks that he would have rescued Gabrielle, but the reminder to not judge someone else when he hasn’t been in their shoes is a good one. He’s still angry at the people behind the Tournament, but not at the Champions.

Harry takes Sirius’ advice and he writes to Narcissa with his suggestion to get Draco involved in their study sessions. Sure enough, Draco just starts showing up, and he’s actually good with the younger years, more patient than Harry would have expected.

It’s infuriating. Harry had expected him to be biased, to favor the purebloods over all others, but Draco doesn’t discriminate. Maybe he doesn’t know, maybe he doesn’t ask, or maybe he just likes the way they look at him like he’s hung the moon when he shows them the perfect way to brew a potion. Harry doesn’t know, and he couldn’t say.

Harry says hello to him, but otherwise stays out of the way, not wanting to jeopardize Draco’s standing any more than it already is.

Harry is just glad that he can focus on his classes. Hermione has a schedule for studying, and while Harry complains about it bitterly, he appreciates it in general.

He at least knows that if he follows it, he’ll be well prepared at the end of the year, and since he has added a couple of intensive courses, Harry is going to follow Hermione’s plan.

Even if he does reserve the right to complain.

The only real distraction that Harry has from his schoolwork and study group is the upcoming Wizengamot session. He knows that his dad is going to introduce some important legislation, because they’ve talked about Sirius’ plans and his strategy.

Harry also knows that the upcoming session will involve the trial of Dolores Umbridge, who’s one of the biggest obstacles to Sirius’ overall agenda. The outcome is fairly predictable, since she’d been caught casting an unforgivable, but Harry can tell that Sirius is still a little worried.

The night of the session, Harry heads for the Room of Requirement. He’s figured out the magic now, and so he focuses on the sort of space that he needs, and when he enters, there’s a roaring fire and a squashy chair, and Harry throws himself into the chair and calls Sirius.

“Hey, pup,” Sirius says with a weary grin. “How are you?”

“I think that’s still my line,” Harry replies with a smile. “I am happy to report that I’m having a very boring year.”

Sirius laughs. “Well, that’s a relief to me, certainly. But to answer your question, I’m fine. The trial went about as expected, except that Umbridge was clearly expecting Fudge to save her, and basically said that Fudge had authorized any means necessary to reach their objectives.”

Harry lets out a low whistle. “That must have been a blow.”

“Fudge claims that he didn’t mean an unforgivable, but that begs the question of just what he had authorized,” Sirius adds. “At least one member of the Wizengamot is talking about a vote of no confidence during the next session.”

Harry frowns, sensing some tension in his dad’s voice. “What does that mean for you?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius admits. “But I’ve already been asked if I intend on throwing my hat in the ring.”

Harry grins. “I think you’d be a great Minister!”

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know about that, and I don’t plan on campaigning, not really.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t be nominated, or that people wouldn’t ask what you’d do if you were Minister.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sirius admits. “And my answer will be the same: I’d burn the whole world down if it meant protecting you. They can be assured that I will be a ruthless bastard when it comes to you.”

Harry feels a warm glow. “I appreciate the sentiment. Where’s Uncle Moony?”

“He decided that he wanted a take away, and we both figured you’d be calling after dinner,” Sirius replies.

Harry’s mouth waters, in spite of the fact that he’d just eaten dinner. “I do love a good chicken curry.”

“We’ll make sure you get one on the next break,” Sirius promises.

“Sounds good,” Harry replies. “I should head for the library. Like I said before, Hermione has a whole schedule.”

Sirius chuckles. “Better get to it then.”

Harry closes the mirror and just sits in front of the fire for a moment, knowing that Hermione is expecting him in the library.

“Best get to it,” Harry mutters.

He joins Hermione in the library and smiles when he sees Therese, Fleur, Krum and Neville sitting with her. Ron is at an adjoining table with Lavender Brown, whispering to her.

“What is Ron doing?” Harry whispers.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Showing just how much he doesn’t care that Viktor and I are dating.”

“Did you talk to Sirius?” Neville asks.

Harry nods. “I’ll tell you about it when we’re finished here.”

They spend a peaceful evening studying in the library, and then he, Neville, and Hermione discuss the Wizengamot session and what happened with Umbridge, and what that means.

The next day is their regularly scheduled study session, and Harry is surprised to see Ron show up. This time, Ron seems to be trying to chat up one of the third years from Hufflepuff.

Based on the way Iris keeps edging away from him, he’s not doing such a great job.

Malfoy is one of the last to arrive, and he nods at Harry. “Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry replies. “Thanks for helping out.” He’s still not sure what, if anything, Draco is getting out of his participation, but it doesn’t matter. Draco is an asset.

Then Harry sees one of the first year Slytherins look up at Draco and say, “I got an O on my last Potions essay because of you, Draco!” and Draco gets a pleased, proud smile, and Harry thinks he knows what Draco is getting out of this.

In here, in the study group, Harry has worked really hard to tamp down on house politics, so they don’t have to worry about points or anything like that. Harry likes to think that it’s a safe space for everyone, and that includes Draco.

Although, if Ron makes any of the girls uncomfortable, Harry will have to step in.

Harry keeps a careful eye on Ron, and watches as Iris rounds on him. “Leave off, Weasley! I’m more interested in my Transfiguration project than I am in you, okay?”

There are snickers from the other students, and Ron tuns as red as his hair. “I was just trying to be nice!”

“Go be nice to someone else,” Iris says pertly, and Harry hides a smile behind his hand.

Apparently, he doesn’t need to worry about the girls. They’re fully capable of telling Ron off on their own.

~~~~~

There’s a week where Harry feels really good. He gets essays back in Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, with an O on each one. Most of those in his Potions class also attend the study group, and other than Crabbe and Goyle, everyone does well on their assignment that day. Harry can almost see the steam coming out of Snape’s ears. He has his weekly tutoring session with Moody, and holds his own in the duel.

He even manages a civil exchange with Draco in the hallway as they pass each other.

Maybe it’s the confidence that he’s gaining that emboldens him to say to Draco at the end of one session, “I appreciate your help with the younger years. I’ve been writing to your mum, and she’s been really helpful.”

Draco shrugs. “She was the one who suggested I participate and make friends outside of Slytherin. She mentioned that you had broadened your horizons, and it might be helpful to me.”

“It’s been good,” Harry replies. “It’s probably easier to do it this year when we’re not playing Quidditch.”

Draco sneers, but it’s half-hearted. “I don’t care how broad my horizons get, Potter. I’m still going to beat you at Quidditch.”

“You wish,” Harry replies. “And I think you’d better call me Harry, you know. It’s stupid not to be on a first name basis when we’re related, and I call your mum Cousin Cissy.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Fine, then. You can call me Draco.” His tone is begrudging, but his lips curve in what might be a smile. “Mum said you’d been writing her about pureblood traditions.”

“Well, my dads would have grown up with them, and my mum wouldn’t have, but I feel like it’s something I should know,” Harry replies. “And your mum offered.”

“She’s very invested in our traditions,” Draco admits. “I guess I hadn’t realized that you wouldn’t know anything about it when we first met.”

Harry has since realized that by refusing to shake Draco’s hand, he’d offered a serious insult. Of course, so had Draco by insulting Ron, but as Narcissa keeps saying, two wrongs don’t make a right, and courtesy is both free and a dying art. He could have shaken Draco’s hand and still said that he could choose his own friends. Draco still could have taken offense, but Harry wouldn’t have been the one in the wrong.

“It’s not as if my Muggle relatives knew anything,” Harry says with a wry grin.

Draco grimaces. “How on earth did you even survive? Did they not know you were magical?”

“Oh, they knew, and they hated it,” Harry says candidly. “But now I’m with Sirius, so that’s all behind me.”

Draco hesitates, but then says, “What’s he like?”

“Who? Sirius?” Harry asks.

Draco nods, and Harry realizes that Sirius is Draco’s patriarch, and likely has a great deal of control over Draco’s life and his future, at least for the next five years while Lucius is in Azkaban.

“He’s—he’s great, actually,” Harry replies. “He listens, and he really cares.”

Draco frowns, but doesn’t respond other than to say, “We’d best get going if we don’t want to get caught after curfew. Professor Snape would love to shut this down.”

“You seem to be getting into it,” Harry comments.

Draco shrugs as they leave the Room of Requirement. “I always viewed Professor Snape as a useful tool to tweak Gryffindors, but not necessarily as a good teacher.”

Harry laughs a bit. “Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Harry,” he replies.

Harry is under no illusion that they’re friends now, but it’s nice to know that they can have a civil conversation, given the fact that they’re distantly related, and will likely have to spend time together whether they like it or not.

Harry is rather hoping that they can at least learn to like it a bit.

~~~~~

Harry realizes that he might be in a bit of trouble in the lead-up to the next Wizengamot session. He knows they’re likely to debate at least part of the omnibus bill, and he knows exactly which section Sirius most wants to have pass. Section 33 recategorizes werewolves, and Harry has some idea of just how much that will mean.

But now that the ice has been well and truly broken between him and Draco, and no one expects Harry to be attacked in the hallway, he does get left on his own by his friends a little more often. During those in-between times, Harry finds himself alone with Draco, usually a couple of times per week.

It’s not as though they’re suddenly having deep conversations, but the lack of animosity has Harry noticing certain things, like the exact shade of white-blond of Draco’s hair, the fact that his gray eyes are just a slightly darker shade than his dad’s, the sharp line of his jaw.

And Harry is well aware that Draco is still a prat. He’s still arrogant and imperious, and he’ll still sneer Muggle like it’s a dirty word, although he at least avoids the slur “mudblood.” He rolls his eyes at the things Harry says more often than not—unless they’re alone, and then he’s more relaxed.

Harry doesn’t really like Draco, but he realizes that he does find him physically attractive. He finds that a bit concerning, given that the people he’s previously been attracted to have all been really nice, people he would happily admit to liking.

There’s no way he’s telling anyone that he’s attracted to Draco Malfoy. His friends would think he’s gone completely mental.

The only people he thinks he could trust with this information are his dad and his Uncle Moony, and then only in person.

Harry is just going to have to bury those feelings down deep until he can talk it over with them.

He’s in Transfiguration on the day of the Wizengamot session when his communication mirror chimes.

Professor McGonagall levels a stare at him. “What was that, Mr. Potter?”

“It’s my communication mirror, Professor,” Harry says quickly. “My dad’s calling, and he wouldn’t be if it weren’t an emergency.”

She frowns but nods. “You may be excused.”

Harry rushes out of the classroom and finds the nearest empty classroom he can. He flips it open and says, “Sorry, I was in Transfiguration. I told Professor McGonagall that it was an emergency.”

Sirius grimaces. “I’m sorry, pup. You can tell her that it was my fault. I had some news that I didn’t want you to hear from anyone but me.”

Harry feels no small amount of trepidation. “I’m in an empty classroom now. What’s going on? Is Uncle Moony okay?”

Remus’ face appears over his dad’s shoulder. “I’m fine. We’re both fine, love.”

Harry heaves a sigh of relief. “Did you get the bill passed?” It’s the only reason that he can think of as to why they’d call in the middle of the day, but even that doesn’t make complete sense.

“We got section 33 passed,” Sirius replies.

Triumph wars with worry. “That’s brilliant! But you would have waited until classes were over to call me for that.”

“They called for a vote of no confidence for Minister Fudge,” Sirius continues. “It passed.”

Harry knows that it’s big news from the way Sirius keeps dancing around the issue. “Okay, you didn’t really like Fudge anyway, right? That’s not a big deal.”

In point of fact, Harry hadn’t really liked Fudge all that much. He’d ordered Sirius kissed, even after Harry protested that it had been Pettigrew all along.

“They voted in a new Minister for Magic,” Sirius says.

Harry feels a growing sense of trepidation, which is competing with a growing sense of hope. “Okay, unless they literally voted in Voldemort, I have no idea what’s going on right now. You’re scaring me, Dad.”

“What he’s refusing to say is that they voted for him. Overwhelmingly,” Remus says.

The weight of relief crashes down on him. Harry knows just how protective his dad is, and if his dad is in charge of the Ministry, Harry will be safer than he would have been with Fudge as Minister. He grins, “Really? Did you accept?”

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” his dad says in a wry tone of voice.

Harry reassures his dad that he’s happy about the turn of events, and reminds him that he can now prank the whole country, and that he should tell his grandfather’s portrait. He tells his dad that he’s proud of him, because he is, and Harry suspects that adults need to hear that sometimes, too. He knows how it makes him feel when Sirius or Remus say that to him.

Sirius is quick to reassure him that their plans for the summer haven’t changed, and then Harry has to go back to class.

“What happened?” Ron whispers. “Is your dad okay?”

Harry nods. “He’s fine, just had some news that he didn’t want to wait to share.”

Once Transfiguration is over, Professor McGonagall asks him to stay behind. “Is everything all right, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, it’s just—Dad didn’t want me to hear that he was just elected Minister for Magic from anyone but him.”

Her eyes widen just slightly. “I see. Well, he’s come quite a long way in a very short time, hasn’t he?”

Harry laughs. “Yes, I guess so. We both have.”

She nods. “Pass along my congratulations when you speak to him next.”

“I will,” Harry replies, and he finds Ron, Hermione and Neville waiting for him in the hallway.

“Well?” Ron prompts. “What did Sirius want to tell you that was so important?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “He got voted Minister of Magic after they took a no confidence vote for Fudge.”

Ron blinks. “Wait, your dad is the Minister of Magic?”

“He is now,” Harry replies.

“Harry, that’s fantastic!” Hermione says.

“Brilliant,” Neville echoes. “Gran said she was working on something important. I’ll bet that was it.”

Ron scowls. “That makes you the Minister’s son.”

“I guess so,” Harry replies. “But all that means to me is that there’s someone in power that I trust to have my best interests in mind.”

Ron doesn’t seem all that happy with Harry’s answer, but Harry has decided that Ron’s feelings are his own, and not Harry’s problem to solve or manage.

But Harry’s just happy that his dad is the Minister now, and Remus is that much safer.

~~~~~

Harry catches the letter that drops from the claws of Narcissa’s eagle owl and quickly opens it.

Dear Cousin Harry,

I was quite impressed with your father’s performance at the Wizengamot session. I would advise getting a pensieve memory from him or from Mr. Lupin. You could learn a lot about oration from watching him. He has a forceful personality, and based on what I’ve heard of your performance at school this year, I believe you have similar qualities of leadership.

I have a small favor to ask of you. I plan on traveling for a bit this summer, and I plan to ask Siri if Draco could stay with you. I’m certain that he will ask you to make sure that you don’t mind. I would very much appreciate it if you would allow this.

Best,

Cousin Cissy

“Huh,” Harry says.

“What?” Neville asks.

“Draco’s mum wants him to spend part of the summer with us,” Harry whispers, glad that Ron is at the other end of the table, trying to chat up another girl—poorly.

Hermione pulls a face. “I know that he’s been less of a prat this year, but that sounds awful.”

Harry shrugs. “I know, but what if he becomes even less of a prat after a summer spent in France?”

“Do you have a way to do a full personality transplant?” Neville asks skeptically.

“Maybe it will bring out more of his mum in him?” Harry suggests. “I mean, she’s nice enough when she wants to be.”

Hermione snorts. “From your descriptions, she’s still a pureblood bigot.”

Harry shrugs. “But at least she’s polite. I’m not saying that I anticipate any of them changing, but I’ve heard that it’s best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“He’ll certainly be close,” Neville comments. “Best of luck, mate. I’ll talk to Gran about doing a joint birthday party this year. Maybe we can do two—one for the politics of it all, and another that’s just friends.”

“I’ve already talked to my parents about it,” Hermione says. “We’re going to Mallorca for the first part of the summer, but they need to be back mid-July, and they’ve agreed to let me come. I’ll just have to arrange for transportation.”

“We can help with that,” Harry says confidently.

“It’s a plan,” Neville says. “That will at least give you a bit of a break if he’s as much of a prat over the summer as he usually is.”

Harry shrugs. “Lionel will be there, too, and there’s a pastry shop in the village that’s brilliant. Therese will probably be there for part of the time, too.”

Hermione laughs. “So, what you’re saying is that Draco will be upending his life, but you have no plans to upend yours?”

“Why would I?” Harry asks. “I’m quite looking forward to this summer.”

But first he has to get past the next Hogsmeade weekend, and then the third task and final exams.

Harry elects to meet Sirius alone, knowing that he’ll need to talk to Sirius and Remus about Draco, and about Harry’s feelings for him. He’s not willing to have this conversation with anyone else around.

Merlin’s pants, Harry isn’t sure that he’s willing to have that conversation with himself.

He’s a little surprised to be met by a tall, black man in Auror’s robes, rather than Rosemerta, and he spots two other Aurors. He probably shouldn’t be surprised, given how many times his dad has been attacked by Death Eaters.

“Afternoon, Mr. Potter,” he says. “Your father is waiting for you. Did you bring any friends?”

Harry feels a little bit intimidated. “No, sir. Just me.”

“This way.”

Harry has no idea whether he’s going to be able to get used to this part of his dad being the Minister. On the other hand, he’s glad to see that Director Bones is taking his dad’s safety seriously.

Kingsley opens the door for him, and then shuts it behind him without entering. Harry greets them both with a hug and asks Sirius how the job is going. He’s not surprised when Sirius brings up the possibility of Draco spending part of the summer with them.

At first, Harry tries to hide his mixed emotions, but Sirius sees right through him easily. “Pup, I’m going to need you to be really honest with me. I’m not going to agree to have Draco stay with us if you’re not okay with it.”

“I’m not not okay with it,” Harry says, feeling his face heat up.

Sirius’ tone is stern. “I need you to use your words.”

Harry hesitates, having no idea how to put his feelings into words. “I—Draco’s not so bad.”

He’s a little surprised that his Uncle Moony is the one to get to the heart of things. “You mean that you have a crush on him, but you’re not sure he’s a good person, and you have no idea why you’re physically attracted to him.”

Harry feels relief at having his feelings put into words, but he also feels completely exposed, and he glares at Remus. “How did you know?”

Remus just smiles gently, not taking offense at Harry’s ire. “I’ve been there.”

Sirius shoots Remus a betrayed look. “Really?”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so egocentric, Pads. I wasn’t talking about you. I had a life when you were in Azkaban, you know.”

It’s a little bit of a relief to hear that Remus, who seems to be one of the most level-headed people Harry knows, had loved unwisely. He’s also glad when neither of them seem particularly bothered by the fact that Harry hasn’t sussed out his own feelings for Lionel yet either.

Sirius just calmly says, “You can have feelings for multiple people at once. And those feelings can be strong, sometimes equally strong. The important thing is to be very clear and honest with your partners and make sure everybody is on the same page.”

Sirius and Remus offer unconditional love and support, and Remus reminds Harry that his actions and choices are his own. Harry can’t control his attraction to Draco, necessarily, but he can control his own actions.

By the time Harry leaves the Three Broomsticks, he feels a lot better about everything. He doesn’t have to know how he feels about Draco or Lionel or anyone else. He can just make sure he makes the right decisions and choices, and that he’s honest.

And it’s a good thing that Harry actually does want to have kids, because he’s apparently on the hook for at least two.

Harry decides to go to Honeydukes before going back to Hogwarts. He has a little time before he has to start studying, per Hermione’s exhaustive schedule.

Ron is in Honeydukes, and he has a sour expression when he sees Harry. “Did you see the Minister, then?”

“I saw my dad and uncle, yes,” Harry replies shortly. “I don’t see what your problem is.”

“You get everything,” Ron hisses. “You get a rich dad, you get good grades, and now you’re the son of the Minister.”

Harry feels his face flush. “Ron, this is not the time for this conversation.”

“If not now, when?” Ron demands.

“How about never?” George suddenly appears and grabs Ron’s ear. “Mum is going to hear about this.”

“You just wait,” Fred adds.

George and Fred drag Ron out of Honeydukes, making it look like it’s a family dispute. At least Ron had kept his voice down, so while there are a few looks cast their direction, people probably assume that it’s all to do with the Weasleys, rather than Harry.

The last thing Harry needs is for a confrontation with Ron to make it into The Daily Prophet.

“Come on.” Neville is suddenly there, and he puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Ron will come around.”

“I doubt it, not after that little demonstration,” Harry mutters.

Neville pulls Harry up to the front, where he pays for a bag of chocolate frogs and hands one to Harry. “Eat your chocolate. That’s what Professor Lupin would say. It’s certainly not your fault that Ron doesn’t understand that we don’t have a choice about who our parents are, or what’s happened to them.”

“He’s jealous,” Harry mutters. “I know that, and I’m trying not to hold it against him, because I’m awesome.”

“You are awesome, and Ron could be awesome, too, if he made even a little bit of an effort,” Neville replies as Harry eats his chocolate frog.

“Pretty sure the twins are going to tell on him to Mrs. Weasley,” Harry mutters. “I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”

Neville snorts. “Yeah, no. Not at all.”

“Is it weird to say that I kind of just want to study and not think about all of this for a while?” Harry asks plaintively.

Neville snorts. “No, because that’s why I spend so much time around plants.”

Harry decides to make a bit of an effort. “Maybe we could visit the greenhouse before we go in. You could talk to me about plants.”

Neville smiles at him. “Yeah, sure, Harry. I don’t mind doing that at all.”

~~~~~

Mrs. Weasley doesn’t send a Howler; Harry would have known if she had. What he does get is Ron approaching him, flanked by George and Fred, in the common room. Judging by the twins’ identical disapproving stares, this might have been some kind of compromise.

“I’m sorry for the scene I caused at Honeydukes,” Ron says in a rush. “I’m glad you have parents, and you don’t have to go back to live with the Muggles.”

Fred and George poke him rather viciously on either side.

“And I’m really sorry for being a wanker about all of it, and I think it’s great that your dad is the Minister of Magic,” Ron says in a rush. “I know that means you feel safer.”

Harry gives Ron a long look. “Your apology is accepted.”

Ron’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, mate.”

Harry shrugs. “I appreciate the apology.”

“Can I still come to the study group?” Ron asks. “It’s just exams are coming up, and I should probably start studying.”

“Anybody who can behave themselves is welcome, as always,” Harry replies. “But if you keep trying to chat girls up, you won’t be allowed back.”

Ron flushes. “It’s not like they’re giving me the time of day anyway.”

Harry looks at him, exasperated. “Maybe because you’re treating them like a prize to be won rather than an actual person?”

“That’s what we’ve—“

“—been telling him!”

Harry can’t quite tell which twin said what, but it doesn’t really matter, because Ron gets even redder. “You and Hermione are dating people.”

Harry sighs and doesn’t bother to correct Ron. He and Therese are friends; they’re not dating. “Why should that matter? There might come a day when you pull your head out of your arse, and you’re dating someone when I’m not.”

Ron shuffles his feet. “It just seems like you’re leaving me behind, that’s all.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, because Ron isn’t wrong. Harry has goals, and desires, and he’s not going to bury those for the sake of Ron’s feelings.

“That’s not my desire or intention,” Harry finally says. “But there are things I want to do, and things I have to do. I would hope that you’d understand that.”

Ron nods jerkily and then slinks off. Harry figures that he’ll probably blow hot and cold for a while longer, but maybe now that they’ve cleared the air a bit, things will get better.

Ron does show up to the next study session, and he refrains from chatting up any of the girls. Harry can tell that the study group is kicking into a higher gear, especially for the fifth and seventh years who are facing their OWLs and NEWTs.

Anyone who needs even a little bit of help has started attending the study sessions with exams quickly approaching. Their results have been obvious, and now they even have break-out sessions based on what individuals need.

The group now routinely draws so many students that there’s a schedule. The older students gather two nights a week to help each other, and a few of them will show up other nights in order to help the younger years.

Harry has identified a few students who are especially good at essay writing to help those who need more assistance with that part, and they’re still practicing their potions ahead of the next class.

“Hey, Harry,” Cedric says as he enters. He’s one of the older students who has offered to help the younger years, even though he has the Tournament and NEWTs to prepare for. “My dad says that the Minister is going to be at the third task.”

Harry nods. “That’s the plan. How is it looking, Cedric?”

Cedric shrugs with a wry smile. “I think it will be tough, and the champion could be anyone, but I’m going to give it my best effort.” He looks around the Room of Requirement, which is now nearly the size of the library, but without its noise restrictions. “This is really something. I wish I’d had something like this when I was in my first year.”

Harry smiles. “Thanks. I like to think it’s been helpful.”

“Well, when NEWT and OWL scores improve in the next couple of years, maybe the Headmaster will offer you a job once you’re done here.”

Harry laughs. “I’m going into healing, I think.”

Cedric claps him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck, and congratulations on your dad becoming the minister. Dad says he’s already shaping up to be better than the last couple.”

Harry grins wryly. “I’ve been told that’s a low bar, but thank you.”

Harry has finished up practicing the next potion in the textbook, and then he finds a quiet corner of the room, and waits for those who want to be animagi to come to him. It’s become customary for them to meditate together before they break for the evening.

He’s surprised when Draco drops down near him. It’s the first time that Draco has participated in the meditation session. Harry doesn’t do anything other than nod at him, and then he says, “Okay, eyes closed. You want to focus your gaze inward.”

He runs through the same meditation exercises that Sirius had first shown him, and Draco—and everyone else—seem to be dialed in.

Neville is the one who’s in charge of watching the time that night, and he calls, “Thirty minutes to curfew, everyone! Wrap it up.”

Everyone else who had been meditating start to rise, and Draco says, “Can I talk to you for a minute, Potter?”

Harry waves at his fellow Gryffindors to go on without him, and as the room clears out, Draco says, “My mum is traveling this summer.”

“I’d heard something about that,” Harry admits.

“She said I was to ask if I could stay with you and Lord Black,” Draco says stiffly.

“As long as you’re civil to my dad and Uncle Moony, and to my friends, you would be welcome,” Harry replies. “It sounds as though Cousin Cissy is pretty set on traveling.”

“She wants a break from the scrutiny,” Draco says. “And with the Wizengamot out of session, she can take that break. I would—I would do many things to make my mum happy.”

“I like your mum,” Harry says. “And I think we can probably rub along together tolerably if we both make an effort.”

Draco glares at him. “Why do you have to be so reasonable?”

Harry smirks. “Maybe because I figured out just how much that gets under your skin.”

Draco sniffs. “You only wish you could.”

Harry gets to his feet. “We’d best get going.”

“Harry,” Draco says, as he gets up, and then he stops. “Never mind.”

Harry shrugs it off. Draco will tell him or he won’t, but Harry has other things on his mind. There are examinations, of course, and whatever is going on with Ron.

Hermione is waiting for him outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Is everything all right?”

Harry nods. “Draco just wanted to talk to me about this coming summer. No big deal.”

He gives the password, and Hermione says, “I still can’t believe you’re even entertaining the idea.”

Harry shrugs. “I’ve spent every other summer with the Dursleys, Hermione. Having a pain in the arse cousin around when I have my dad and uncle there to enforce order doesn’t even rate as an issue.”

Hermione appears to think about that for a minute, and then she nods. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Besides,” Harry adds with a grin. “When I’m nice to him, it drives Malfoy absolutely mad. He can’t even say anything against it, because his mum would be all over him.”

Hermione laughs at that. “Draco’s mum just handed you a sure fire way to drive him mad, then.”

“I think she believes it’s character building,” Harry replies, and he feels rather pleased with hoe everything is going.

~~~~~

Ron is a bit stand-offish, but he comes to their study group and he seems to be trying to act normally, even if he’s a bit stiff. Harry feels a sense of anticipation leading up to the next task, mostly staying in contact with his dad through owl post. From his letters, his dad is really busy with his new job, trying to get his agenda pushed through, and figuring out where the money is going.

Harry is busy preparing for exams, and he knows he’ll see his dad for the third task, so he doesn’t press for another Hogsmeade weekend. He puts his head down and does the work.

He gets updates from his dad on what’s going on at the Ministry, like the new Undersecretary he’s hired who’s a Muggle-born, the new researcher in spell damage who’s also a werewolf, the reception, even the fact that his dad thinks that someone is embezzling funds from the Ministry.

It’s a nice distraction from his schoolwork, and Harry appreciates the fact that his dad is at least willing to provide information. Maybe he wants to keep Harry away from the fight against Voldemort, but at least he’s been giving Harry more information than Harry has ever received from any adult in his life.

The buzz around the school is at a fever-pitch right before the third task, the Quidditch pitch being given over to the growth of a maze.

The Champions appear tense, and when Harry hangs out with Therese, he asks her about it.

Therese grimaces. “Fleur is very nervous. There is a maze with various obstacles; that much is clear. We just don’t know what those obstacles will be, and so it is very difficult to prepare.”

They’re speaking in French, and Harry enjoys practicing. Because of the language transference spell, it feels almost as comfortable as speaking English. He wants to make sure that he’s still fluent for the summer.

Harry grimaces. “I just hope it’s not dragons. I’m not sure I’d put anything past them at this point.”

Therese shakes her head. “I’m not sure I can forgive them for what they did to the Delacours, you know? It’s one of the reasons Fleur is so worried.”

Harry sighs. “Are you glad you weren’t chosen as Champion?”

Therese laughs. “Definitely, especially since Lionel would have probably been my hostage, and my mother and grandmother would have stunned people and asked questions later.”

Harry laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve seen Louise duel. My money would be on her.”

Therese gives him a sidelong look. “And will your father be at the third task?”

Harry nods. “That’s the plan. It sounds like he’s really throwing himself into being the Minister.”

“Does that worry you?” Therese asks.

Harry shakes his head. “No. Maybe a little bit at first, once I got past the relief of having someone in charge that I trusted, but we’ve been writing and using the communication mirrors. He tells me a lot, you know, and so I know that he’ll make time for me this summer, even if we don’t have as much time together as we would have otherwise.”

Therese nudges his shoulder with hers. “Lionel and I will be there to distract you.”

“I didn’t think you were going to spend the whole holiday with your grandmother,” Harry replies.

Therese shrugs. “I changed my mind. I realized that I will not have many summers to spend there in the future. I’ll soon be out of school and working, and I will see my grandmother less and less. So, I will spend the summer with her, because the next summer I will no longer be in school, and I will likely be working.”

“I think that’s smart,” Harry replies. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I want as much time with my dad as I can get.”

Therese shakes her head. “It’s not stupid. My father is wonderful, and yours is, too. I love spending time with my parents.” She pauses. “If you’re serious about going into the healing arts, you should speak to my mother this summer. She would let you shadow her, and she would know who best to study with.”

Harry perks up at that. “Really?”

“Yes, she likes you and your parents, and you speak fluent French,” Therese replies. “She would at least know who to contact.”

Harry nods. “I’ll talk to her, and maybe to your dad, too, if you think that would be okay. I feel like maybe if I knew more about Muggle healing, there might be a way to use both to help people.”

Therese laughs delightedly. “You should hear some of the debates my parents get into! Yes, you should talk to both of them.”

Harry nods. “I’ll do that.”

He just hopes that they can get rid of Voldemort, so he can carry out his plans.

~~~~~

The day of the third task rolls around, but it’s not taking place until that evening. Harry studies and spends time with his friends, and he doesn’t worry about the task except in a vague sort of way. He hopes that Cedric does well, and wins. He hopes that Fleur and Krum make it through without injury.

Harry looks forward to seeing his dad and Remus.

That night, before the task, Harry dresses carefully, because he knows the press will be there, and he’ll likely be photographed with his dad. Harry wouldn’t want to put him to shame.

Ron gives Harry a strange look, but he holds his tongue. Hermione smiles at him, though. “You look quite nice, Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry replies, and notices that Hermione has done something with her hair. “Your hair looks really nice.”

Hermione beams. “Thank you! I thought I’d put in an effort.”

“You look nice all the time, but you look especially nice tonight,” Harry says.

That seems to spur something in Ron, who says, “I noticed you looked really nice tonight, Hermione, but I didn’t know what to say.”

Hermione looks at Ron, and Harry could see when she decides to give him brownie points. “Thank you, Ron.”

Maybe positive reinforcement is the way to go, because Ron nods and shuffles his feet. Harry files that away for later, and then they head down to the giant maze that had taken over the Quidditch pitch. He can see the Aurors who are clearly preparing for his dad’s arrival. Harry is content to stay with his friends until his dad arrives, and when he does, he pushes through the crowd, and the Aurors help with that. They make sure he has a clear path to his dad.

Sirius opens his arms, and Harry hugs him tightly. “There you are, pup,” he says, relief in his voice. “I thought I’d have to come find you.”

“Not a chance,” Harry says, and jokes, “I think Ron and Hermione are a little disappointed that I’m not sitting for them, but you said that the Minister has the best seats in the house and a place for me.”

Sirius keeps his arm around Harry’s shoulders as he turns him to face a couple who looks vaguely familiar. “Good. Harry, this is Amos Diggory.”

Harry puts on his best manners. “Cedric’s dad? We’re all cheering for him!”

It’s true, but he knows that it’s the thing he needs to say as the Minister’s son, too.

“So your dad has said. I appreciate your support, Harry, and I’m sure Ced does, too,” Mr. Diggory says with an indulgent smile.

Sirius clears his throat slightly. “If you’ll excuse us, Amos, I see some friends from across the Channel.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed the presence of the Deschamps until now, but when he sees Lionel, he feels a burst of excitement and familiarity. “Lionel!”

Lionel hears him and waves madly. “Harry!”

Harry ignores what the adults are doing. He hugs Lionel, pounding him on the back as Lionel does the same. Sirius is greeting Diana and Denis, but Harry ignores that for the moment.

“How are you?” he asks.

Lionel nods. “Good, but looking forward to the summer. Therese says she’ll spend the time with our grandmother. Is that your doing?”

“More hers, I think,” Harry replies. “She realized it may be the last summer that she can.”

Lionel smiles. “It will be nice to have her there. I think after the second task she looked at me more fondly.”

“The thing with the Delacours was awful,” Harry says, and then realizes that they’ve both switched to French without really meaning to.

Lionel seems to realize it at the same moment, because he switches to English. “I do look forward to seeing more of you this summer, Harry.”

“As do I ,” Harry says. “Although we might have company.”

Dumbledore approaches Sirius, and Harry realizes that their time is up. “I”ll talk to you more about it later,” Harry promises as Sirius calls him away.

He ends up sitting between Remus and Sirius, and Harry is once again grateful to be a spectator. Cedric has the edge on Krum for points, so he’s first in the maze, with Krum and then Fleur following.

Cedric makes his way through the maze fairly confidently, with just a couple of wrong turns. Krum is hot on his heels, but Fleur sends up sparks from her wand to demonstrate her forfeiture.

When Cedric is the first to reach the cup, holding it aloft over his head, Harry loses his mind along with the rest of the other Hogwarts students, and everyone else who’s there to support Cedric.

His dad holds Harry back from immediately streaming towards Cedric when he emerges from the maze. Harry doesn’t resist, knowing that the crowds present a security risk, and he can understand why his dad wants to wait. When the crowd starts to thin out a bit, Sirius begins to lead the way to congratulate Cedric and console the other two champions.

He keeps a hand on Harry’s shoulder as they make their way through the crowd, and Harry appreciates his dad’s care. Whether it’s because his dad wants to keep track of him, or because his dad wants to lay a claim, Harry doesn’t mind.

But, as he says to his dad, it’s a little weird being the Minister’s son.

And then Harry hears someone shout, “Minister!”

Harry cranes his neck, trying to figure out who shouted, and a piece of rope hits his dad’s chest. Sirius clutches at it reflexively, and Harry can tell that his dad is trying to release him, but Harry clutches at his robes, unwilling to be separated.

They’re thrown apart by the portkey, with Harry landing a few feet away, near a tombstone. He quickly rolls behind it, remembering his lessons with Moody. First step in a battle—make sure you have cover and can protect yourself. Second step—take stock of your surroundings. Third step—rescue the ones you can rescue.

Harry isn’t sure that his Patronus is strong enough to reach Remus, and casting it would give his position away. He has no idea where the portkey had taken them anyway. His best bet is to wait to see what they’re going to do with Sirius, and then do what he can to free him to make it more of a fair fight.

Harry watches as Peter Pettigrew hits Sirius with a piece of wood on the back of the head, probably garnered from the graveyard. Pettigrew ties his dad to a gravestone with his hands behind his back.

Once Pettigrew has secured his dad, he starts setting up for what looks like a spell. He starts a fire under a cauldron, and then he continues digging up a grave.

Harry uses his focus on digging as a distraction to start darting from headstone to headstone, between mausoleums, and behind trees. Harry is cautious, not wanting to get caught too early. So, he’s still making his way around the cemetery when he can see his dad start to wake up.

Unfortunately, Pettigrew can sense it, too, because he pokes his dad in the cheek with his wand and threatens him and Harry. Harry would honestly like to see Pettigrew try to come after him. It’s not like he knows that Harry has been taking lessons with Mad-Eye Moody, or that Harry is close to finding his form, or that Harry can take a wand arm off with a reductor.

Harry keeps all of that in mind as he moves towards his dad, even when he can clearly see that his dad knows he’s there, and that he wants desperately for Harry to literally be anywhere else.

But right now, Harry’s the only help his dad has, and he’s not losing another parent, not if he can help it.

He tunes everything out, focusing on getting to his dad without being seen. Harry manages to get behind the tombstone his dad is tied to, and his dad says, “Use your emergency portkey and get out of here. You can bring help.”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know where we are, and I’m not losing another parent to that monster.”

Sirius directs Harry to the emergency beacon in his pocket, but Pettigrew had been thorough. There’s nothing left in Sirius’ pockets, and Harry comes up empty.

In a split second, Harry comes up with a plan when he spots the beacon on the flat top of a headstone. “I see it.”

“Pup, no, it’s too dangerous,” his dad protests.

Harry shakes his head and casts a slashing curse at the ropes holding his dad in place. “It won’t be if you’re in your fur, distracting him. You provide the distraction, and I’ll activate the beacon. We have to stop him from coming back, right?”

Harry fully believes that. They can either stop Voldemort tonight, or they can deal with him for years to come.

“We do, we absolutely do,” Sirius agrees.

An eerie voice says, “Now, the blood of my enemy.”

Any arguments that Sirius might have had die in that moment, and he transforms and springs forward, jaws closing on Pettigrew’s wand arm. Harry can hear the snap of the bone breaking, and Peter’s scream of pain.

Harry leaps for the emergency beacon with the same alacrity, only to be stopped short by Voldemort’s cry, “Nagini, to me!” and the appearance of a giant snake. The snake wraps around the small, withered form of Voldemort, and it’s within striking distance of Harry, and the beacon.

Voldemort hisses, “Kill them both.”

“You don’t have to serve a corrupt master,” Harry says desperately in parseltongue, as persuasively as he knows how. He knows it’s probably a losing proposition, but he has to try. “Join us.”

Harry will never know if he would have been successful in getting Nagini to abandon Voldemort—although he doubts it—but then his attention is drawn to Pettigrew coming up behind his dad with a knife in his good hand.

“Dad! Behind you!” Harry shouts, breaking eye contact with the snake.

Sirius hamstrings Pettigrew in a move that would probably make a wolf proud, and then Harry’s eye is caught by Nagini again as she half-lunges for him.

Harry hisses in parseltongue, “Forget your master. He has not cared for you as he ought.”

Nagini lunges for him again, and Harry knows that she won’t be swayed. He has a reducto that will take a wand arm off, so he levels it at Nagini and blows a hole through her body.

Voldemort screams, and it’s a child’s wail. When Sirius moves toward the mewling form, he says, “No, wait!”

Sirius transforms back into human form and grabs his wand and beacon from where Pettigrew had left them. Pettigrew is on the ground crying softly from his injuries, and Sirius says, “He’s dangerous, Harry. We cannot allow him to live.”

Harry looks down at the withered thing, swaddled in a blanket, and he feels nothing but pity. Pity and resolution. “I know,” he replies, pointing his wand at the form.

Sirius’ voice is so gentle as he says, “It’s not for you, lad. I know what the prophecy says, but this shouldn’t be on you.”

Harry doesn’t want to kill Voldemort. He’s already killed Nagini, and that feels bad enough. It hadn’t been the snake’s fault that Voldemort had used her so cruelly. But if he could kill a creature such as Nagini, surely he could kill the Dark Lord he was prophesied to destroy.

And yet, like this, Voldemort is helpless, especially with Pettigrew out of commission and most of the Death Eaters in Azkaban after their fruitless attempts to kill his dad.

“And it’s my job to protect you,” Sirius says. “I’ve killed my share of Death Eaters, Harry, and I sleep just fine at night. Let me do this for you, as your dad.”

Harry knows that Sirius isn’t telling the whole truth; he knows that Sirius has nightmares, but he suspects that his nightmares aren’t about killing Death Eaters.

At the same time, Sirius is offering to shoulder a burden that Harry has been unwittingly and unwillingly taking on since he was an infant.

“Maybe that’s the power he knew not. He never had a dad,” Harry says.

“Maybe that’s it,” Sirius says. “I’m not sure I care, though.”

Harry half-expects his dad to use the killing curse, but instead he just drills a hole through Voldemort’s head with a piercing hex.

With one hex, the architect of all the misery in Harry’s life—and the lives of so many others—is just gone. It doesn’t seem like it should have been that easy. “Is it over?”

“It’s over,” his dad says. “Looks like we’re both going to have a reputation after this, love.”

Harry knows he sounds a bit hysterical as he starts to laugh, even as the Aurors start apparating into the cemetery. “No one is going to mess with me in the hallway again.”

“I would say so,” Director Bones says pertly. “Minister Black, you gave us quite the scare.”

Everything is a little bit of blur after that, probably because of the adrenalin. He knows that he protests not going back to the Tournament, even though his dad and Director Bones are both firm and patient. He feels almost as though he’s moving on autopilot as he speaks with Director Bones, and is escorted back to Grimmauld Place by an Auror.

His dad orders him through the floo, and Harry is glad that he has enough experience to use it without worrying about coming out of the wrong fireplace.

Harry pops out of the floo at Black Manor, and quickly banishes the soot. Cordy immediately starts to fuss over him. “You are hurt!”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not.” Nothing hurts, Harry thinks, and he’s not sure what Cordy is talking about.

“You’re bleeding,” Cordy says severely.

Sirius has emerged from the fireplace, and he frowns. “Where are you bleeding, Harry? I didn’t think you’d been injured.”

“I was wearing armor!” he protests.

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t injured. Where are you hurt? Robes and shirt off, pup,” Sirius orders.

Harry does as he’s asked, and there’s a long gash on his upper arm that Harry can’t explain. He has no idea where it came from, or when he got it. Cordy brings the dittany and seals the gash in seconds, and Sirius orders him to the shower.

He stands under the hot water for a long time, and Harry just breathes, trying to sort it all out in his head. Voldemort is dead and gone, Peter Pettigrew is in custody, and Harry is safe.

He’s safe, and he didn’t have to be the one to kill Voldemort; that had been his dad. He feels a stab of regret for having to kill Nagini, but he knows it had been necessary.

A thought occurs to Harry, then, that he never really had to be the one to end Voldemort.

Another thought follows fast on its heels: Dumbledore’s insistence that he go back to the Dursleys, the presence of Voldemort in the school his first two years, all of that had been to prepare him for what Dumbledore viewed as inevitable—but it never had been.

And that’s why, when Sirius tells him that he may end up being the Master of Death, Harry rejects the idea immediately. He has time to figure that out, and he might change his mind, but Harry is not about to embrace destiny, not when it’s cheated him out of so much.

Besides, Harry wants Dumbledore to know that he knows the old man tried to manipulate him, and that Harry isn’t going to sign up to be a child of prophecy again. If he does become the Master of Death, it will be because Harry sees the value in it, and he knows he can do some good with it.

After Harry confronts Dumbledore, it’s time for him to get to classes. There are only a few days before exams start, and his weekend adventure has put him behind Hermione’s time table, but he’s pretty confident that he’ll do well.

He’s been working hard all year, after all.

~~~~~

Harry puts his quill down and takes a deep breath. It’s the first year, the first round of exams, where Harry has gone into them completely confident in his ability to do well.

Of course, it’s also the first set of exams he’s taken where he knows someone is going to care about his marks. Not only that, but Harry wouldn’t be surprised if someone publishes them in the paper, especially if he doesn’t do well.

Harry takes the finished exam up to Professor McGonagall and hands it to her. She nods at him, and says, “You are excused, Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiles. “Thank you, Professor.”

Harry leaves the room and takes a deep breath. His friends are all taking the train home the following day, but Sirius insisted on picking Harry and Draco up from the school. Voldemort might be dead, and a lot of the Death Eaters are in Azkaban, but Sirius is still worried about retaliation.

He heads back to the Gryffindor common room and is soon joined by Hermione. “How do you think you did, Harry?” she asks immediately.

Harry holds up a hand. “I already told you, Hermione, I’m not talking about the exams or the answers with you. It’s the quickest way to drive ourselves mad.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Hermione admits. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk about how you felt about it.”

Harry hesitates. “Prepared. I think I did well.”

Hermione beams at him. “That’s wonderful, Harry. You’ve really been putting in the effort this year.”

Harry shrugs off the praise. “It helps that my dad cares. Remus, too.”

Hermione gives him a sly look. “And the fact that Snape gets that weird eye twitch every time someone gets a potion perfect hasn’t helped at all?”

Harry laughs at that. “It’s the best sort of prank. Everyone gets a better grade in Potions, and Snape gets to bask in the knowledge that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Hermione grins. “What do you think the chances are that Professor Snape finds a new job?”

“We can only hope,” Harry mutters.

Ron comes into the common room looking harried. “That was awful.”

Harry exchanges a look with Hermione, but he holds his tongue, even though he really wants to say “I told you so.”

Harry has been holding his tongue a lot this year where Ron is concerned.

“You know, Ron, if you’d come to our study group more often—“ Hermione begins.

Ron glares at her. “Don’t start on that again, Hermione. I still don’t understand why you had to get the Slytherins involved.”

“Because Daphne and Blaise and Malfoy were the best at Potions in our year,” Hermione says severely. “It helped, didn’t it?”

“It helped me,” Harry says cheerfully. “I think I’m set up well for next year, too.”

Ron throws himself down on the couch. “Are you just going to study all summer, Harry?”

“Not as much as last summer,” Harry says. “But I’m not trying to catch up on two classes at once, and I don’t have to worry about Voldemort trying to get into my head. I am going to try to find my form this summer, though.”

Ron stares at him. “Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Harry replies. “And I thought you were interested in becoming an animagus.”

“It’s a lot of work,” Ron admits, “and it’s not like you need to. There aren’t any Death Eaters or Voldemort or anything like that. Summer is supposed to be a break from lessons.”

“I want to do more than just exist,” Harry says, wondering if Ron will ever get it. “And I want to make my parents proud.”

These days, when he says “my parents,” Harry means all four of them and feels nothing but lucky.

Ron looks abashed by that, and he says, “You know they already are. You could do nothing for the rest of your life and they’d still be proud of you.”

It’s a rather insightful comment coming from Ron, and Hermione gives him an approving look.

“I know they are, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put in the effort,” Harry replies. “I mean, look where my dad is now.”

Ron grimaces. “Yeah, and now you’re the son of the Minister of Magic.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Harry,” Neville calls as he enters. “Are you still planning to spend most of the summer in France?”

“Mostly, but I think we have some trips planned. Dad wants me to attend the last Wizengamot session with him before the summer break, and I doubt Draco will be perfectly content at the farmhouse if we were to stay there all summer,” Harry replies.

Ron pulls a face. “I can’t believe you’re going to be spending the summer with Malfoy.”

Harry shrugs. “It’ll be fine.”

Harry doesn’t know that it will be fine, but he also knows that if it isn’t fine, Sirius will send Draco home.

Neville sits down next to Harry and bumps his shoulder with his own. “You can always visit me if you need a break.”

“Thanks, Nev,” Harry replies, grateful that Sirius and Remus had encouraged him to actually try cultivating relationships outside Ron and Hermione. It’s made for a much better year than he might have had otherwise, especially with Ron running hot and cold by turns.

“You could come to the Burrow,” Ron says, half-hopeful, half-sullen.

The problem, Harry thinks, is that the Burrow had always been the place he would escape to at the end of the summer, and now going would mean giving up time with his dad.

And Ron still isn’t used to the idea that Harry might have a family of his own, but then again, Ron seems fine with escaping from his own family at times.

“Thanks,” Harry says. “But the magical adoption is still settling. I think I’ll probably spend as much time with my dad and Uncle Moony as I can.”

~~~~~

Harry stands in the Great Hall next to his trunk, and Professor McGonagall approaches him. “I was a bit surprised that you aren’t going home on the train.”

Harry shrugs. “My dad didn’t think it would be safe, so he’s picking us up.”

“And you’re spending the summer with him in France?” McGonagall asks.

Harry nods. “That’s the plan, although Dad has plans for some trips and such, like attending a session of the Wizengamot.”

“It will be important for you to understand how the government works,” she says. “I’m also interested in helping you find your form, if that’s something you would like. You’ve made considerable progress in Transfiguration this year. I meant to offer earlier, but it never seemed like the right time to add something more to your plate.”

Harry feels a rush of pleasure at being seen and having his hard work acknowledged. “Thank you, Professor. I’d be happy to accept.”

“I’ll owl you,” McGonagall says.

Draco walks into the great hall with his trunk floating behind him. He won’t meet Harry’s eyes, but then Draco isn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect of spending the summer in the middle of nowhere in France.

And he’s probably not all that excited to spend the summer with Sirius, who is the person least likely to coddle him.

McGonagall eyes them both and says, “I hope you’ll both have a very nice summer.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry says. When Draco doesn’t say anything in reply, Harry elbows him.

Draco glares at him, but Harry just raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Thank you, Professor,” he mumbles.

Sirius picks that moment to stride into the great hall, Remus following close behind him. He’s wearing gray dragon hide today, and looks very sharp. “There you are, Pronglet,” he says, and Harry grins. His dad certainly knows how to command the attention of the entire room.

Harry refuses to worry about what Draco might think as he accepts Sirius’ embrace. It doesn’t matter that they’d seen each other just a week ago. Harry doesn’t think there’s any amount of time that would be too much.

“Hey, Dad,” Harry replies. “How’s the Ministry?”

“Oh, you know, boring as usual,” Sirius replies. “Draco, how are you?”

Draco shrugs. “Fine, Lord Black.”

“I think you can call me Sirius,” he says. “Since we’re family, and we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other this summer.”

Remus also holds out an arm, and Harry hugs him, too. “Are you two ready to go?”

Harry nods, and Sirius turns to Professor McGonagall. “Thanks for seeing these two off, Professor.”

“Of course,” she replies. “And I think the Minister for Magic can call me Minerva.”

“And yet, I come back to Hogwarts and keep expecting you to call me ‘Mr. Black,’ like you’re ready to call me to the Headmaster’s office,” Sirius jokes.

“Is there something you’d like to confess?” McGonagall asks, and Harry can’t quite believe that she’s joking with Sirius like that.

Sirius laughs. “No, not unless you want to hear about the embezzling scheme I recently uncovered.”

Harry perks up at that, because he’s certainly interested in hearing more about it.

“I offered to help your son find his form this summer,” Professor McGonagall says. “Perhaps you can tell me all about it when I visit.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sirius replies. “Let’s get moving, boys. I have dinner reservations for us in London, and then we’ll take an international portkey home.”

Draco pulls a face but doesn’t object, and Harry wonders if he’s just not going to say anything all summer.

Sirius gives Draco a sharp look, but then shrugs, apparently unwilling to call him out for sulking just yet.

They walk down to just beyond the front gates of the school, and then Remus side-alongs Harry, while Sirius does the same for Draco. They appear inside the lobby of the Ministry, and several witches and wizards call out greetings to Sirius.

It’s a little strange still, to be known as the son of the Minister of Magic, and Harry wonders if eventually he’ll be famous more for that reason, than because of who he is on his own.

Harry kind of likes that idea.

Draco maintains a sullen silence as they drop off their trunks in Sirius’ office, right up until they arrive at an Italian restaurant—a Muggle Italian restaurant.

“What are we doing here?” Draco demands.

“We are broadening your horizons, and your palate,” Sirius replies smugly. “You should know how to navigate the Muggle world.”

“I don’t see why,” Draco mutters. “What’s so great about it?”

“Have you ever had spaghetti and meatballs?” Harry asks. “Because you shouldn’t reject it before you’ve tried it.”

“There are wizard restaurants we could go to!” Draco hisses.

“And yet, here we are,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Now, your current options are to come in and sit down to eat like a civilized person, or go sit on the curb outside while we eat, and you can have our leftovers.”

Draco glares at him. “I’m not going to be sent to sit on the curb like some sort of naughty child.”

“Then don’t act like one,” Sirius replies pleasantly, but here’s a hint of steel in his voice that Harry hasn’t heard all that often.

Draco subsides at that, and Sirius announces their presence to the hostess at the front of the restaurant. They’re shown to a table, with Sirius pulling out Remus’ chair, and Harry realizes there’s another reason to eat in Muggle London—no one’s going to give Remus and Sirius a second look.

Their waitress appears and hands out menus, and Harry begins perusing his, while Draco can’t quite hide a disgusted expression.

“What is any of this?” Draco whispers.

Harry plucks the menu out of his hands. “I’ll take care of it.”

Draco sneers at him. “I don’t need your help, Potter.”

“You clearly do,” Harry counters. “If we don’t want to be sitting here all night while you glare the menu into submission.”

“Like that would even work,” Draco mutters.

Harry catches Sirius and Remus staring at them, and there’s an amused smile on Sirius’ face. “Well, I can see that we’re going to have entertainment this summer.”

Harry snorts. “Don’t get used to it, Dad. Draco will probably lapse into sullen silence any second now.”

Draco just glares at him, which kind of proves Harry’s point.

When the waitress comes back, Sirius orders a couple of appetizers for the table, and Harry orders spaghetti and meatballs for Draco and fettuccine alfredo for himself.

“How do you know I’ll like it?” Draco asks.

Harry smirks at him. “Because it’s about the least offensive thing on the menu, and if you don’t like it, there really is no hope for you.”

“I thought there already was no hope for me,” Draco snarks back.

Harry shrugs. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

Sirius raises an eyebrow, but he refrains from commenting on it. Truthfully, there’s a lot about his relationship with Draco to unpack.

It’s one of the reasons he’s willing to host Draco this summer.

~~~~~

Harry relaxes as soon as they land in the yard of the farmhouse, seeing the lights burning in the windows. Apparently, either Winky or Dobby have preceded them to get the house ready.

“This is the place?” Draco says with real horror. “It’s a hovel!”

Harry refuses to take offense. He’s never seen Malfoy Manor, but he’s been to Black Manor, and he’s seen Grimmauld Place, too, now that it’s been redecorated. In contrast, the farmhouse is a bit shabby, but it’s not as though anyone would be invited over, other than family.

“It’s comfortable,” Harry replies. “And you probably think anywhere with less than twelve bedrooms is a hovel.”

Draco stares at him. “Isn’t it? Why are we staying here and not at Black Manor?”

“Because Harry wanted to spend at least part of the summer here, and you’re our guest,” Sirius says pleasantly. “Of course, I could write to your mum and tell her that you didn’t even last one night.”

Apparently, the idea of disappointing Narcissa is even more horrifying than the idea of staying at the farmhouse. “No, I’m sure it will be fine,” Draco mutters.

“Posh git,” Harry mutters.

Draco sneers at him. “What would you know, Potter? You grew up in a shack.”

“By your standards, sure,” Harry agrees. “But at least here you’ll have a comfortable bed and enough to eat.”

Draco shifts uncomfortably, and Sirius rests his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s get inside,” Sirius says. “And you can see where you’ll be staying, Draco.”

“Will you tell me about the embezzling?” Harry asks.

“Sure,” Sirius replies easily. “Once Amelia has made the arrests, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“When do you think that will happen?” Harry asks.

“Before the end of the month, I imagine,” Sirius replies. “Percy Weasley was actually quite helpful in that regard. Him and Moony.”

“I didn’t do that much,” Remus comments mildly. “But it will be nice to see some of my efforts bearing fruit.”

“Welcome home, Lord Black,” Winky exclaims as they enter, clapping her small hands together. “Welcome, Master Draco.”

Draco manages to be polite to Winky at least. “Thank you, Winky.”

“I show Master Draco where he sleeps,” Winky announces. “This way.”

Harry makes no move to head for his own room, glancing up at Sirius when he assumes that Draco is out of earshot. “This should be interesting.”

Sirius snorts. “Posh git is right.” He pulls Harry in for a hug. “I’m glad I didn’t have to worry about that with you, lad.”

Remus smirks at Sirius. “You have to admit that he comes by it honestly.”

Harry laughs. “He has you there, Dad.”

“Did you get enough to eat, Harry?” Sirius asks.

Harry nods. “Do you think we can go down to the village tomorrow for pastries?”

“That’s the plan,” Sirius replies. “I’ll need to go in on Monday, and if Draco is really driving you crazy, you two can come to London with me.”

“Neville still wants to do a joint birthday party,” Harry says. “If that’s okay. We talked about it, and we could have one just for friends and one for show.”

“That’s completely up to you,” Sirius replies. “But I can’t say that the show birthday party wouldn’t be helpful, especially since it will probably come on the heels of the arrests.”

Harry laughs. “I already warned Hermione. She said she could probably make it with a bit of assistance.”

“We’ll make sure she gets there,” Sirius replies. “Anything you like, Harry, within reason.”

“Do you want tea?” Remus asks.

Harry nods. “That sounds good. Thanks, Uncle Moony.”

Remus puts the kettle on, and Harry settles at the kitchen table. As much he enjoys being at Hogwarts with his friends, Harry has missed this tremendously.

“What else do you want to do with your summer, Harry?” Sirius asks.

“You’ll be busy with the Ministry, won’t you?” Harry asks. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sure we could manage a holiday of some sort,” Sirius replies. “What would you think about going to Venice? There’s a lovely magical area.”

Harry shrugs. “I’ve never been to Italy. I wouldn’t mind going to Paris again, to that broom shop. The new Laurent will be out, and I wouldn’t mind seeing if it’s as good as promised.”

Draco appears in the kitchen, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Are you thinking about a new broom?”

“Thinking about it,” Harry replies. “We were at a broom shop last summer, and the owner said the Laurent would have a new model out.”

Draco sniffs. “I doubt anything Laurent has to offer would compare to the Firebolt.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Harry replies. He’s learned by now that a non-reaction will drive Draco crazy.

“Do you want some tea?” Remus asks pleasantly.

“No, thank you,” Draco replies stiffly. “I think I’ll go to bed, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Suit yourself,” Sirius replies. “I don’t dictate bedtimes or anything else around here. I’m too busy running a country for that.”

Draco stares at him, apparently not knowing quite what to say, and then nods. “Good night, then.”

Harry shrugs once Draco is gone. He’d wondered how Draco would be outside of his comfort zone, and he can’t say that he’s surprised. Narcissa had promised that Draco would behave himself and be polite, and he has been—just. But then, Sirius is the head of the family, and he’s the Minister of Magic.

“Well, I’ve dealt with worse attitudes,” Sirius comments. “I suppose we’ll see how the rest of the summer goes.”

“At least we’ll be spending time together,” Harry says cheerfully. “Things could definitely be worse.”

Sirius chuckles. “Well, that’s true enough.”

Harry finishes his tea and heads upstairs, grateful to be back in his own bed. He likes his bed at Hogwarts, but the farmhouse feels even more homey. It’s not just the place he feels safe, but the place he’s spent the most time with Sirius and Remus.

The next morning, Harry sleeps in a bit, but then gets up and pulls on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. They’re both fairly smart, but not near what he’d wear if he was going to be seen by anyone important.

His dad is awake and sipping a cup of coffee. “There’s hot water left if you’d like tea or coffee,” Sirius says.

There are tea bags and instant coffee, and Harry makes a cup of coffee. He knows that Winky had probably stocked the kitchen, but getting pastries in the village is a bit of a tradition, or is becoming one.

“How’d you sleep, Pronglet?” Sirius asks.

“Great,” Harry replies.

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “No nightmares?”

“I actually haven’t had one since the graveyard,” Harry admits. “Maybe I should feel worse about it, but I just feel relieved.”

“You should feel relieved, love,” Sirius replies. “Voldemort is gone, and you needn’t worry about anything other than the usual.”

Harry grins. “No more saving the world.”

“Not unless you decided to make a habit out of defeating dark lords,” Sirius jokes. “But I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“I think you can trust that,” Harry replies.

Remus comes wandering into the kitchen, and Harry says, “Oh, I used the last of the hot water. I can put the kettle on again.”

“I can take care of it, Harry,” Remus replies with a gentle smile. “But thank you for the offer. Have either of you seen Draco?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, not yet. Not since he went to bed last night.”

Winky pops into the kitchen. “Master Draco requested tea in his room.”

“Has he had anything to eat?” Remus asks.

Winky shakes her head. “I offered, but Master Draco say he not hungry.”

“Let him know that we’re heading to the village to buy pastries, and if he wants to go with us, he needs to be down here in ten minutes,” Sirius replies.

Remus gives him a reproachful look, but Sirius just shakes his head. “I know what Cissy asked of me, Moony, but Draco is fifteen. I’m not going to force him to do anything.”

“And if he spends the entire summer in his room?” Remus asks.

“He might,” Harry says. “He seems stubborn that way.”

“We’ll give it a few days, and then reassess,” Sirius replies. “When I was Draco’s age, I spent an entire summer in my room, so I’m not underestimating his stubbornness.”

Harry shrugs. “Well, if we’re being nice, we could get him a pastry and have Winky pop it up to him. That might tempt him out.”

“Only if we stop buying pastries for him if he doesn’t come out,” Sirius adds. “But if he tries to starve us out, we’ll have to make other plans.”

Harry can’t say that he’s terribly surprised, but he certainly doesn’t mind going down to the village with Sirius and Remus, and leaving Draco behind.

Then again, he remembers what it felt like to be at the Dursleys’ house, with all of them belonging together and Harry on the outside. Harry doesn’t really want that either.

Still, the walk down to the village is made under a cloudless, blue sky, and it’s hot but not uncomfortably so. Sirius rests a hand on his shoulder, and Harry grins for no reason at all other than the fact that he’s happy.

He’d written to Lionel to let him know when they would be in the village, so he’s not terribly surprised to see Lionel, Therese, and Louise there with pastries of their own when they enter the patisserie.

“Harry!” Lionel says. “It’s good to see you in one piece. We were worried until the Aurors said that you and Minister Black were safe.”

Harry gives him a one-armed hug, and then does the same for Therese and busses Louise on the cheek. “It was a bit scary, but the outcome was good.”

“And you,” Louise says, looking at Sirius with a smile. “I haven’t seen you since you became Minister. Congratulations.”

Sirius shrugs. “It’s been an adventure, but I’m hopeful I’ll leave the place better than I found it.”

“Should I call you Minister Black?” Louise asks, a twinkle in her eyes.

Sirius snorts. “No, just Sirius, if you please.”

“I’ll get our pastries,” Remus says, nodding at them. “Do you want your usual, Harry?”

Harry nods. “Yes, thank you, Uncle Moony.”

“I thought your cousin would be with you, Harry,” Lionel says.

Harry shakes his head. “He’s locked himself in his room for the moment. I’m afraid the farmhouse was a terrible assault on his sensibilities.”

“What’s wrong with your farmhouse?” Lionel asks, bewildered. “It’s quite cozy.”

Harry shrugs. “Apparently, it’s a hovel.”

Therese rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”

Harry just laughs. “Yeah, well, he’s a posh git, but he does have moments where he’s almost normal.”

“We should play Quidditch today,” Lionel says eagerly. “If your cousin joins us, we can do two against two.”

Harry nods. “Well, we can give it a shot, but I think he might try to hide out as long as he can.”

Sirius and Louise are chatting quietly in French, and then Remus emerges from the patisserie with their breakfast and a mesh bag with two loaves of bread and a croissant, which is probably meant for Draco.

Harry sits on the sidewalk between Therese and Lionel to eat his pan du chocolat, leaving the small, iron table to the adults.

They talk about the end of the school year and the outcome of their examinations, about the Tournament, but not about what happened after the third task, or what happened at the cemetery. Harry doesn’t offer, and Lionel and Therese don’t ask.

Once they’ve all finished their pastries, and they’re ready to head back up, Lionel asks Louise, “Can we play Quidditch, Grandmere?”

“Of course,” Louise replies. “As long as Sirius and Remus agree.”

Sirius smiles. “Of course, and feel free to stay for lunch, too. It will just be sandwiches.”

Therese and Lionel agree eagerly, and Therese says, “We will have to go get our brooms.”

“I’ll get them and bring them to you,” Louise replies. “Go on and walk up.”

So, Harry walks back to the farmhouse with his friends, and his parents, and once they arrive back at the farmhouse, Louise meets them with her grandkids’ brooms.

“I’ll see if I can dislodge Draco,” Remus says, and climbs the stairs.

Maybe Draco has had enough of being stuck in his room, maybe it’s the pastry, or maybe it’s the promise of Quidditch, but he follows Remus downstairs.

“Just let me eat breakfast and get a cup of tea,” Draco mutters. “And then I’ll play.”

Harry sits out on the front porch with Therese and Lionel, and they debate the best way to split up. Eventually, Harry suggests that they start out with the Deschamps against the House of Black, and then switch off after that.

When Draco emerges from the house, and Harry informs him that they’ll be on the same side to start off, Draco looks horrified. “You mean we’re going to be on the same team?”

“Well, unless you prove hopeless with the Quaffle, and then I’ll probably insist on another partner,” Harry says wryly.

Draco’s jaw firms up. “I’ll have you know that I’d be an excellent Chaser, Potter.”

“I thought we’d agreed you’d use my first name, Draco,” Harry counters, sensing by now that Draco uses that as a distancing technique.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Fine. Harry. I’m an excellent Chaser, Harry.”

“Great, prove it,” Harry invites.

The Quidditch hoops aren’t as tall as they usually are, and they’re only playing with the Quaffle, and not the Bludgers or the Snitch. Harry wonders if he could convince Draco to have a contest to see who can catch the Snitch first.

Draco is as competitive as he usually is at first, but as they start passing and playing, he settles down.

They agree that a winning score is 50, and he and Draco win the first round. After that, Harry and Lionel team up against Draco and Therese, and Draco and Therese take that round.

They stop for lunch, and then after lunch, Harry joins up with Therese against Draco and Lionel, and he and Therese win.

They play all day like that until they’re all exhausted and sweaty, and they lose track of who’s won and who’s lost. Draco is disheveled, his hair out of its perfect coif, his clothing stained with sweat. The rest of them are no better, and then it’s dinner time, and Therese and Lionel accept Sirius’ offer to side-along them home.

Remus has cold lemonade for them, and they sit at the kitchen table and drink it, and there’s a measure of peace that Harry has never felt with Draco before.

He doesn’t want to break the silence, but then Draco says, “I like your friends, Harry. Therese is an excellent Quidditch player. Do you know if she’ll go pro?”

Harry shrugs. “I doubt it. I think she might go a different route. Both of her parents are healers.”

He’s not going to tell Draco that they’re both half-bloods, not unless Draco asks. Blood status shouldn’t matter anyway.

Draco nods slowly. “I’ve been thinking about going into law myself.”

“Healing for me, I think,” Harry replies, and it’s pleasant.

“Why don’t you boys get cleaned up?” Remus suggests. “We’re having fish for dinner. I hope you like it.”

Draco brightens at that. “Oh, I love fish. What sort?”

Remus smiles. “Trout. Dobby is making it. He insisted that it was your favorite.”

Draco actually grins at that, the happiest expression Harry has seen on his face yet. “It is. Dobby’s trout is brilliant.”

Dinner that night is far more relaxed than it had been the previous night. Draco eats with gusto, as does Harry. The trout is quite good, served with some sort of marinated lentils and green beans, and he and Draco inhale their meals.

There would probably have been leftovers if they weren’t so hungry, because they both go back for seconds and then split what little remains between the two of them without acrimony.

Harry can’t say that he’s hopeful that they’ll be friends exactly, but it might be a pretty good summer.

~~~~~

The next couple of weeks pass in much the same way. Sirius will either take a portkey or chain apparate to London during the week. Harry and Draco will spend an hour or two each day studying or reading, and then they play Quidditch with Lionel and Therese.

He and Draco don’t talk about the fact that they’re helping each other get better at Quidditch, although they’re also learning each other’s moves. In fact, he and Draco don’t talk much at all.

He’s still stupidly attractive, but Harry has to admit that the close proximity has helped dull the edge for him a bit.

Harry thinks he might need an emotional connection to actually act on any physical attraction, and right now, he just thinks Draco is really fit, and that becomes background noise for him.

After two weeks, though, Therese and Lionel are planning to spend some time with their parents in Paris, and Sirius announces, “We’re going to London. We have the last Wizengamot session before the summer break, and Narcissa has asked that you attend as well, Draco. I think it will be good for both of you.”

Draco perks up. “I’ll see Mother?”

“We’re going to have lunch with her,” Sirius replies. “But she plans to begin her travels after that.”

Draco’s face falls slightly, but he nods stoically. “It will be good to see her, regardless.”

“And we’ll arrange for you to meet with Minerva while we’re in London,” Sirius tells Harry. “She’s very interested in helping you find your form. She thinks it will only take a couple of sessions before you’re there.”

“Would it be possible for me to be an animagus?” Draco hazards hesitantly before Harry can speak.

Sirius nods. “Yes, of course. If you’d taken the mark, it wouldn’t be, but since you haven’t, it’s quite possible. The House of Black is lousy with animagi.”

Draco nods, and Harry says, “I’d really like to see Professor McGonagall, and attain my form.”

Sirius nods. “I’m sure it will be easy for you, as much work as you’ve been putting in. You’ll do well.”

They each pack a bag, because they’re going to be in London for several days. Remus is going with them, of course, and they apparate to Paris and take an international portkey to the Ministry building in London.

Again, people say hello and welcome them, and this time they include Draco in that, either assuming that Draco is Harry’s friend, or that he belongs to Sirius somehow. Draco’s picture hasn’t been in The Daily Prophet, so it’s not as though anyone would know that he’s the son of Lucius Malfoy, or that it would mean much if they did.

They leave their things in the Minister’s office, and Sirius shows them the way to the chamber. They’ve arrived early enough that Sirius can give them a tour before Remus leads them up to the gallery.

“What about Mother?” Draco asks.

“We’ll see her after the session is over,” Remus replies. “She warned us that she’d be arriving just on time.”

“What business are they handling today?” Harry asks, wanting to distract Draco.

“I believe they’re debating another section of Sirius’s bill, as well as another bill that Mrs. Malfoy is bringing,” Remus murmurs. “And there’s to be a trial.”

Harry frowns. “Is this about the embezzling Dad found?”

Remus nods. “I believe so, but I don’t know for sure. That will depend on whether Amelia feels she has enough to bring the case.”

The members of the Wizengamot begin to enter the chamber and take their seats. Dumbledore calls the session to order in his role as Chief Warlock, while Sirius sits next to other high-ranking members of the Ministry on the dais.

Harry leans forward, finding the whole thing just as interesting as a Quidditch match. It’s so unlike anything else Harry has ever seen, and while his dad has promised to put some of his memories in a pensieve, it’s not the same as being there.

“Our first order of business is the trial of the former assistant to Dolores Umbridge,” Dumbledore says in a heavy tone. “Maisie Overstreet.”

The evidence against the woman is overwhelming, and it doesn’t take long for her to start implicating others. If Overstreet is to be believed, Umbridge, and several others—including some high ranking Ministry officials—had been involved in a scheme to embezzle from the government. About the only member of the previous administration not implicated is Fudge.

“Why did they start with her?” Draco whispers. “She seems like a minor player.”

“She’s the weakest link,” Harry says confidently. “They thought she’d give testimony to save her own skin.”

Remus nods. “From what Sirius has said, you’re correct, Harry.”

Draco frowns, but he’s clearly invested in the outcome. “Is that how they do all trials?”

“Most of them,” Remus says. “At least the ones I’ve witnessed.”

Draco frowns. “But who speaks for the accused?”

“They speak for themselves or not at all,” Remus says.

Draco’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t say anything else. After Overstreet has finished her testimony, the Wizengamot votes on guilt, and on the decision to arrest the other coconspirators. At the end, she’s sentenced to six months in Azkaban, and the arrests of four others are authorized. Umbridge is already serving a life sentence, so there’s no point arresting her.

Once the trial is over, debate begins on one section of his dad’s bill, this one on strengthening the protections for creatures. The section passes, but barely, and then Narcissa introduces her new bill, decriminalizing the ownership of certain dark objects and ingredients.

Sirius refrains from weighing in, and the bill passes by a small margin. Harry resolves to ask him later why he hadn’t either objected or offered his support.

That concludes the business for the day, and Dumbledore dismisses the members.

“Come on, lads,” Remus says. “We’re meeting them in the atrium.”

He leads them out of the gallery down into the atrium, and Harry notices right away that being with Moony produces very different results. While they might receive the occasional nod, Remus’ passage goes nearly unremarked.

Harry wonders if he can learn that trick, because it seems very handy, especially for someone like him.

Sirius is speaking with Augusta, Director Bones, and Narcissa, and in spite of her typically glacial expression, Harry can see a hint of irritation. “I still don’t see why you stayed silent.”

“I told you that I couldn’t support your bill, but I couldn’t find a good reason to come out in opposition either,” Sirius says, and he does sound exasperated. “You knew exactly what was going to happen.”

“I daresay that some of those artifacts could be found in Black Manor,” Narcissa points out sharply.

“No, in Grimmauld Place, and I hired a curse breaker to destroy them,” Sirius replies. “I’m not going to allow that sort of thing around my son.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m a bad mother because I’ve taught my son how to deal with these sorts of artifacts?” Narcissa asks archly.

Harry is feeling a little awkward, but Augusta and Director Bones look as though they’re enjoying the show.

“No, everyone can see that you’re an excellent mother,” Sirius replies. “Draco has been a very polite houseguest over the last two weeks. But Harry has been exposed to enough dark items that I don’t think he needs to be around more.”

That apparently takes the wind out of Narcissa’s sails, since he had both complimented her parenting and her child. Plus, he basically managed to avoid the fight she tried to pick.

She inclines her head. “Thank you, cousin.”

“Mother?” Draco calls.

Narcissa puts on a smile. “Draco, hello. I see you’ve been making friends.”

“I think they’re family, Mother,” Draco says dryly.

Narcissa holds out a hand and puts it on Draco’s shoulder. “Have you enjoyed your summer so far, darling?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco says dutifully. “Cousin Sirius and Cousin Harry have been excellent hosts, as has Mr. Lupin.”

“Wonderful,” Narcissa says. “As I told you, I plan to travel through the month of July, but I’ll be back for Harry’s birthday party.”

Harry assumes that she means the political one they’re holding on Neville’s actual birthday, and not the one they’re planning for their friends the day after.

Draco nods unhappily, but he doesn’t argue. “Where do you plan on going?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Narcissa says lightly, and Harry thinks that’s probably a lie, and Narcissa just doesn’t want anyone to know where she’s going. Maybe not even her son.

Then again, maybe Narcissa doesn’t mind Draco knowing, and will be sending him postcards.

“Well, on that note, I think we should get lunch,” Sirius says.

There’s a nice restaurant near the Ministry that is run by a witch and has a notice-me-not charm to ward off Muggles. It’s an upscale place that caters to the upper echelons of the Ministry, so it’s passable for Narcissa and Draco.

Harry orders a chicken breast, but he’s honestly had better from Remus or Louise. Still, he has better manners than to say as much. He eats his chicken, and professes enjoyment when asked. Draco does the same, and Harry figures that at least in public, they’ve had the same lessons in manners.

Sirius leans over to whisper in his ear, “I should have warned you, pup. Never order the chicken breast here. It’s dry as a bone. The steak is better.”

“Now you warn me,” Harry mutters.

“Harder to get a steak wrong,” Remus says on the other side of Harry. “Chicken will go dry in a minute if you’re not watching, and I know the cook here. He gets distracted easily.”

Harry swallows his laugh.

Lunch passes pleasantly enough after that, and Sirius pays as Narcissa and Draco say a private farewell on the sidewalk outside. Harry and Remus wander away to allow them the fiction that they’re alone.

Harry feels a little bad for Draco, who clearly adores his mum, and would certainly prefer to spend the summer with her. Then again, Harry can understand why Narcissa would want to spend some time alone and outside of England.

Sirius joins them outside, and he puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “What would you think about taking a little trip to Paris? We could check out that broom shop.”

Harry is fairly certain that Sirius made the suggestion to take Draco’s mind off things, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoyed their time in Paris last summer, and he thinks Draco will as well. “We can go to that park for pick-up Quidditch,” Harry says.

“Just so,” Sirius replies.

“That sounds good,” Harry replies.

~~~~~

When his dad and Uncle Moony decide to make plans, they can move very quickly indeed. With the Wizengamot in recess until September, his dad can take time off. Although he goes back to the Ministry to wrap things up for the day, Remus takes Harry and Draco back to Grimmauld Place to make arrangements.

By the following morning, they have a suite of rooms at a magical hotel in Paris near the park, as well as an international portkey. Harry is excited for the trip, but Draco remains quiet and sullen.

Harry doesn’t hold it against him; he figures he’d be a little sullen if he had to spend the summer away from Sirius.

The hotel is nice and near the park, and Harry wants to go find a game immediately. “Come on,” he tells Draco. “It’ll be fun.”

The suite has two bedrooms, one for Sirius and Remus, and the other for him to share with Draco. Harry isn’t sure how that’s going to go, but he’s going to try to make the best of it.

Draco is on his bed with his arm over his eyes. “Not interested, Potter.”

“Are you just going to lay there and pout?” Harry asks.

Draco glares at him. “What do you know?”

“I know that you can lay here and be upset and missing your mum, or you can come find a Quidditch game with me,” Harry says. “And you might even be able to play Seeker.”

“Fine,” Draco finally says. He grabs his broom, and Harry calls out, “Dad, Uncle Moony, we’re going to the park!”

“Be back by six for dinner,” Sirius replies. “You have the password for the door?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I remember it.”

Draco follows Harry out of the hotel to the park, and there are already a couple of games being played. Draco also speaks French, if not as fluently as Harry, and so there’s really no need for them to even be on the same team.

And it’s probably not a bad idea for them to spend some time apart.

As it turns out, one team needs a Beater, and another needs a Seeker, so Harry volunteers to be the Beater, letting Draco play Seeker. They’re in different games, too, and Harry has a lot of fun hitting the Bludgers.

Harry is too preoccupied with the game to pay much attention to Draco, but he does occasionally glance over to make sure he’s still there and doing okay.

He and Draco play two games before it’s time to go back to the hotel, and Draco looks markedly more cheerful as they walk back. Harry doesn’t say anything, figuring that Draco might prefer the silence.

“I didn’t know there were pick-up Quidditch games here, and I’ve been to Paris multiple times,” Draco suddenly says.

Harry smiles. “Lionel told me about it last summer. I like playing the game for low stakes. Mostly, I just like flying.”

“Me, too,” Draco admits, sounding as though the words are being pulled out of him.

They spend four days in Paris, and he and Draco spend the mornings sightseeing with Sirius and Remus, the afternoons playing Quidditch, and the evenings wandering the city.

By the time they head back to London, Draco at least seems resigned to spending most of the summer with them. Sirius arranges for private lessons with Professor McGonagall in the hope that Harry will find his form, and for Draco to start down that road.

Harry also suspects that his dad wants to keep him and Draco busy, much as he had last summer.

Professor McGonagall turns up the very next day, and she fixes the two of them with a stern look. “I expect hard work from both of you, boys, or else I’ll take myself right back home.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry says, and Draco echos him.

“Now, the key thing to focus on is that part inside yourself that is most closely identified with your form,” McGonagall says. “How close are you, Harry?”

“Pretty close,” Harry confesses. “I’ve identified my form, and I think I’ve come close to the transfiguration, but my dad said I shouldn’t try unless I was with him or you.”

McGonagall nods. “And what’s your form, do you think?”

“I think it’s a raven,” Harry replies.

McGonagall hums thoughtfully. “Often thought to symbolize rebirth, afterlife, prophecy, and intelligence. I’m not surprised.”

“I thought the raven represented death,” Draco says, giving Harry the side-eye.

“That’s mostly a Muggle viewpoint,” McGonagall replies. “All right, Harry. I’m going to use legilimancy to see where you are in the process. Do you consent?”

Harry nods. “My dad has done it before. It’s why he told me not to attempt the transformation on my own, because I’m that close.”

McGonagall waves at him to go ahead, and Harry closes his eyes and centers himself as he usually does prior to meditation. They’re in the study at Grimmauld Place, and Harry has chosen a seat on the settee.

He’s felt as though he’s on the cusp, and now that he has permission to transform, he lets the change roll through him. Taking polyjuice had been painful, but this feels almost natural, like there’s a part of him that should always wear feathers.

Maybe there is.

Harry opens his eyes to see that his perspective of the world has changed. He’s looking up and over at McGonagall now, and his eyesight is keener. He lets out a caw and hops as he spreads his wings.

“Excellent,” McGonagall says, warm approval in her voice. “Very well done, Mr. Potter. Now, can you change back?”

Harry has been imagining transforming, picturing what it would be like to go back and forth for months now, just as he’s going to sleep, and that’s exactly what he does.

“Good,” McGonagall says. “Now, Mr. Malfoy, you’ve seen Mr. Potter do it. What questions do you have?”

It turns out that Draco has a lot of questions, both for McGonagall and Harry, which Harry answers as best he can. Draco hasn’t been meditating for very long, so he’s not sure what his form is, and isn’t quite sure how to begin.

Harry tries to be as patient as he knows how to be, and he finds it easier than he expects. Draco is smart, and when he’s not being a supercilious little git, Harry can appreciate that.

“But what if you don’t like your form?” Draco asks. “What if it’s something like a cockroach?”

“Then you needn’t continue,” McGonagall says placidly. “But why would you think your form would be something abhorrent?”

Draco shrugs. “I don’t, but I just wondered.”

“There are some who say that our forms reveal something true about us, and some who would say otherwise,” McGonagall says. “Myself, I’ve never been sure. I’ve known people with forms that seem to reflect their innermost selves, and others that have completely surprised me.”

Draco is quiet for a long moment, and then he says, “If you’ll excuse me, Professor. I don’t think I want to proceed. I appreciate your time.”

And then he stands up and leaves the room abruptly.

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen McGonagall so surprised. “I’m sorry about that, Professor McGonagall.”

“It is not your fault, Mr. Potter,” she replies. “Others’ actions are their own, and not everyone is willing to do the self-inventory necessary to become an animagus.”

Harry nods. “I just wasn’t sure if it was maybe it was something I said.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not your fault, Harry. Now, let’s practice a bit more.”

So, Harry practices transforming back and forth, and then takes his first flight around the study. He takes a couple of trips around the room and practices landing.

By the end of the lesson, Harry feels very comfortable transforming, although she warns him not to try flying outside on his own.

When she leaves, promising to return in two days, Harry goes upstairs to confront Draco. “What the hell, Draco?” he demands.

Draco gives him one of his haughty looks. “It has nothing to do with you, Potter.”

“Dad asked Professor McGonagall here to help both of us, and you just ran out on her!” Harry says.

“I excused myself,” Draco replies. “I realized it wasn’t for me, and it would have been ruder to continue to waste her time.”

Harry stares at him. “You were all set to try not that long ago.”

“I had time to think about it, and I changed my mind,” Draco replies. “I’m sure you’ve done that before, or maybe you don’t have enough of a mind to change.”

“You know what, fuck you,” Harry replies and turns to walk out.

“Profanity is just evidence of a small mind!” Draco calls after him.

Harry had actually thought things were getting better, that maybe Draco was getting better, and now he has to go back to being a complete dick.

He wishes he were back in France, so he could go flying, but instead he goes back to the study and throws himself into his summer project for Ancient Runes, constructing a basic ward.

Remus pokes his head into the study after Harry has been in there for an hour or so. “How did things go today, Harry?”

“Fine,” Harry says shortly, and then checks himself. “I’m sorry. Everything went well. I was able to complete the transformation.”

Remus enters the study and sits down next to Harry. “And Draco?”

“Decided that it wasn’t for him and excused himself abruptly,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice even. “When I called him out on it, he was a git.”

“How was he a git?” Remus asks gently, not reacting to Harry’s harsh tone of voice.

“He insulted my intelligence,” Harry replies. “And I swore at him.”

Remus nods slowly. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. I only want an apology if it’s sincere.”

“That’s fair,” Remus says after a moment. “But you need to tell your dad about this.”

Harry groans but agrees. “Yeah, I know.”

“I thought we’d do a take away tonight,” Remus says. “How does curry sound?”

“Perfect,” Harry says.

Sirius had to go into the Ministry for a meeting he couldn’t get out of, so he’s out. When he comes back, it’s a little while before Remus comes back with their food.

“Hey, pup,” Sirius says, finding him in the study. “How did your lesson with Professor McGonagall go?”

Harry smiles. “Good. I found my form. Wanna see?”

“I do indeed,” Sirius replies.

Harry transforms and perches on the edge of the desk.

“Well, look at you!” Sirius says, clearly delighted. “I don’t think I can call you pup or Pronglet anymore.”

Harry transforms back. “I like those nicknames, and I don’t have to register until I’m 17, so maybe we can keep it quiet.”

“I can do that,” Sirius says and ruffles his hair. “How did Draco do?”

Harry hesitates at that, knowing that he needs to tell Sirius what had happened. “He decided that it wasn’t for him.”

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “And?”

“I thought he was kind of rude to Professor McGonagall, and then he was definitely rude to me, so I swore at him,” Harry admits.

Sirius nods slowly, much as Remus had done. “Well, I can talk to him, or I can let you work it out on your own. Up to you, love.”

“Maybe just let us work it out?” Harry suggests. “Unless Professor McGonagall was upset.”

Sirius nods. “I’ll have a word with her, and we’ll see what she has to say.”

Harry smiles. “Thanks.”

“You’re old enough to have a say in how you want these sorts of things handled,” Sirius replies. “So, I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Harry replies.

Harry finishes his Ancient Runes project, and is pleased with the result. He starts on his Arithmancy next, because those are the two classes that still give him the most trouble, even though he feels pretty good about them these days.

The front door opens, and Remus calls out, “I have the take away!”

Harry joins them in the dining room, and one of the house elves has already set the table. “Winky, will you tell Draco that we’re about to eat?” Sirius asks.

Winky pops away, and almost immediately returns. “Master Draco says he is not hungry.”

Sirius doesn’t try to argue. “Very well. Let him know that we have curry if he does get hungry.”

Harry wonders if Draco’s reluctance to come down for dinner has anything to do with their interaction earlier, but he decides to shrug it off. He’d decided at the beginning of the summer that he isn’t responsible for Draco. That’s his dad’s thing.

Harry is starting to figure out how and when to let go, and just let his dad be in charge.

He goes to bed that night and tries not to think about it. When he gets up the next morning, he’s in time to meet Sirius and Remus for breakfast. He thinks that his dad and uncle Moony are having an entire conversation with just their eyebrows and eyes.

“Why don’t you come into work with me today, love?” Sirius suggests. “Remus planned on going over the books today, so he’ll be here if Draco decides to emerge.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course,” Sirius replies. “You can see how the working world lives.”

Harry rushes upstairs to change into nicer clothing, trousers and a button-down shirt with formal robes. He glances at Draco’s bedroom door, which is still tightly shut.

Sirius side-alongs Harry to the apparition point outside the Ministry, then leads him inside with a hand resting on Harry’s shoulder.

They’re immediately greeted by everyone who sees them, including Arthur Weasley who’s coming in via the floo. “Minister Black! And Harry!” Arthur says cheerfully. “How are you, lad? Accompanying your dad to work today?”

Harry nods. “Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m looking forward to your birthday party,” Arthur says. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Harry smiles. “It will be good to see everyone. I take it that means that Ron will be there.”

Mr. Weasley frowns. “Of course, Harry. Why wouldn’t he be?”

Harry realizes that he’s misspoken. “I just wasn’t sure.”

“Did Ron not respond to your invitation?” Arthur asks.

Harry hesitates, not wanting to get Ron into trouble.

“I’m sure he just forgot,” Sirius inserts smoothly. “We look forward to seeing all of you, of course.”

“Of course,” Arthur says, a little uncertainly. “Have a good day, both of you.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Harry mutters.

Sirius squeezes his shoulder. “No matter what your relationship is like, Ron had an obligation to RSVP. If he didn’t, then he needs a lesson in manners that I’m sure Arthur will deliver.”

“I didn’t want to get Ron into trouble,” Harry protests.

“If Ron didn’t want to get in trouble, he would have responded to the invitation, especially if his parents had agreed that they would go,” Sirius replies. “Remember, Harry, the only actions you can control are your own.”

Sirius keeps reminding him of that, and Harry is trying to remember. Sirius garners attention when he enters any room, and he manages to not care what anyone thinks of him.

If Harry could learn one thing from his dad, it would be how not to give a fuck for appearances, or how to pretend to be unbothered.

Sirius leads the way into his office, and glances over at Percy. “Cancel my meetings today, other than my dueling session with Director Bones.”

“But sir—“ Percy begins.

“I told the entire country that I would burn it down for Harry, so canceling a few meetings shouldn’t be a problem,” Sirius says firmly.

Percy nods, swallowing audibly. “Yes, Minister.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Dad,” Harry protests.

“You’ve been an excellent host to Draco so far, and I think you could use a break,” Sirius replies. “I know what it’s like to feel as though you have to be on the ball all the time, and I wanted to give you a day where you didn’t have to be on.”

Harry feels his shoulders drop down from around his ears, feeling completely seen. “Yeah.”

Sirius pulls him in for a hug. “So, today is your vacation, pup.”

It’s an amazing day. Even though he canceled most of his meetings, Sirius still has things he has to do, and he brings Harry along. There’s a departmental meeting, and a budget meeting, and Sirius asks Harry to take an oath on his magic not to say anything about what he hears.

They go out for lunch to a nearby Muggle cafe, ditching their robes and just enjoying being anonymous. After lunch, they have a dueling session with Director Bones, and she invites him to call her Amelia and says she’s looking forward to his birthday party, too.

“It’s becoming the event of the year, Harry,” she says. “Susan is very excited.”

It’s still a month away, but Harry understands why it’s a big deal. They decided to have the political thing on Neville’s birthday, and the friends birthday on Harry’s, but for the kids who might come to both, they’ve been invited to stay over at Longbottom Manor.

Harry has had a sleepover with Lionel, but never with so many other kids. “It’ll be good to see everyone. With a summer birthday, sometimes it can be hard.”

“Easier when your dad is the Minister,” Amelia replies.

In another lifetime, Harry would have believed her, and might have felt bad about it, but he’s built a lot of friendships over the last year. It’s not just Neville, but Susan and Colin and Therese and even Krum. So many people who had come to their study group and maybe weren’t his best friends, but they were friends.

“I think the study group really helped, too,” Harry says mildly.

Amelia smiles a little ruefully. “Of course, I’m not discounting the hard work you put in this year, Harry. Susan’s grades were better this year than any year before, and I’m sure the study group had something to do with it.”

“Everyone who regularly came to the study group did well,” Harry admits. “But they put in the hard work. I just provided the forum.”

“Well, shall we get started then?” Amelia suggests.

Harry has a lot of fun with the dueling lesson. Amelia works his dad hard, the better to protect him, she says. She goes easier on Harry, but not by much, and he’s grateful for his lessons with Moody. “If you’re going to pick a fight with a Dark Lord, you ought to know how to defend yourself.”

“I wasn’t the one who picked a fight!” Harry protests. “That was all Voldemort.”

“Still, the point stands, since you could have used your emergency portkey in Little Hangleton,” Amelia points out.

Harry really wishes the adults wouldn’t get so hung up on that. It’s not like anyone told him that Sirius’ beacon could be activated by the Ministry, and that Harry could have escaped and brought help. Harry thought he’d done rather well, all things considered.

“Well, next time my dad gets kidnapped by a Dark Lord, I’ll definitely use it,” Harry says, knowing that he sounds a little out of sorts.

Amelia laughs. “And next time you’ll know how an Auror-issued emergency beacon works. I should have made it clear to both of you. Merlin knows that Susan wouldn’t have willingly left me in such a situation.”

Harry feels a little better at that, and Sirius puts an arm around his shoulders. “I’m lucky Harry was there, and that he kept a clear head. Not many adults could have handled it as well as he did.”

Harry is starting to learn how to take a compliment from his dad and Remus. “Thanks, Dad.”

The rest of the afternoon, Sirius takes him through the rest of a typical day, and introduces Harry around. They end up leaving just before five, and they end up taking the floo home, stepping out of the fireplace.

Harry banishes the soot with practiced ease, remembering his first time using the floo, and how awkward it had been. “Like a pro, pup,” Sirius says, stepping out of the fireplace behind him. “Thanks for going with me today.”

“It was fun,” Harry replies. “I liked seeing where you work, and knowing a bit more about it.”

Remus glances up from the ledger he’s working on. “You’re home a bit early.”

“I canceled my meetings,” Sirius replies, brushing a kiss over his lips. “The benefits of bringing your kid to work. We eating in or out tonight?”

“I thought we’d eat in,” Remus replies. “Kreacher has been working on something sure to tempt Draco’s appetite.”

“Has he not emerged today?” Sirius asks.

Remus shrugs. “Winky brought his meals to him, and she says that he looks fine, even though he’s claiming not to feel well.”

Sirius nods. “If he doesn’t come down for dinner, I’ll go talk to him.”

Of course, Draco doesn’t come down for dinner, and Sirius goes upstairs, leaving Harry to look at Remus. “Do you think it’s because of the thing?”

“Or his perception of what our reaction to the thing might be,” Remus replies.

After a long couple of minutes, Sirius comes downstairs with Draco following him sullenly. “It turns out that Draco is feeling well enough to join us after all,” Sirius says cheerfully.

Draco picks at his food, darting looks at Harry, Remus and Sirius, as though he’s just waiting for the ax to fall. Remus asks Harry what he’d thought of the Ministry, and Harry talks about his dueling lesson with Amelia. “She told me to call her by her given name,” he explains.

Sirius glances over at Draco. “Are you sure you’re not feeling poorly, Draco?” Sirius asks shortly. “Because if you’re not well, I can call a healer.”

Draco shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m okay,” and then he starts making inroads on the roasted salmon Kreacher made.

They finish eating, and Sirius says, “We should start making plans for the rest of the summer. We have a few weeks until your party, Harry. Is there anywhere else you want to go?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. Paris is the only other place I’ve been, really, other than the farmhouse.”

“Well, we should definitely broaden your horizons,” Sirius says. “Remus? What do you think about Venice in a couple of weeks?”

“I think Venice is lovely,” Remus replies. “We could also visit the International Confederation of Wizards. As the British Minister, they’d roll out the red carpet for you.”

“Fun and educational,” Sirius says. “Sounds perfect. A couple of days in Venice, followed by a couple of days in Rome.”

Draco doesn’t look very happy about the idea, but he also doesn’t raise any objections. In fact, Draco doesn’t say anything until well after dinner, when Harry has gone to his room to read for a bit before bed.

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Harry assumes that it’s his dad or Remus, and he says, “Come in!”

Draco opens the door, and he just stands there for a long moment. “You didn’t tell them?” he demands.

Harry blinks, trying to figure out what Draco is asking. “Tell them what?”

“About what I said!” Draco snaps.

“Of course, I told them,” Harry replies, bewildered. “And I told them that I swore at you, and Dad asked if I wanted to handle it, or if I wanted him to do so. I said we’d work it out.”

Draco appears to be nearly vibrating with suppressed emotion, but what that emotion might be, Harry has no idea. “They didn’t say anything!”

“No, because I said we’d handle it,” Harry replies. “You were a git, and I swore at you. We didn’t come to blows, you didn’t even draw your wand. Neither did I. Given our history, I feel like that’s definite progress.”

Draco stares at him, and then his shoulders slump. “You’re mad. You’re absolutely mad.”

“Possibly,” Harry admits. “I might still be traumatized over facing Voldemort, you know.”

Draco glares at him. “Now who’s being a git?”

“You’re the one who said I was mad,” Harry points out reasonably. “I just gave a plausible explanation. And don’t just stand there. Either come in and sit or leave.”

Draco slouches in and sits on the small desk chair. “What do you think of this plan to go to Italy?”

Harry shrugs. “Sounds like fun. I’ve never been to Italy. Have you?”

“Once, when I was small,” Draco says. “I don’t remember much of it, to be honest.”

“Good time to go back then,” Harry replies cheerfully. “You were the one chafing at being stuck in a small town in France all summer long.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “I truly hate you, Potter.”

Harry shrugs. “Not my problem. You can feel whatever you feel.”

Draco glares and then gets up to leave. “Fine, I guess we’ll do whatever Cousin Sirius wants to do.”

“He is the head of our House and the Miinister of Magic,” Harry calls after him.

Draco gives him the two-fingered salute as he leaves the room.

Harry snorts, and he figures that probably represents progress, too.

~~~~~

By the time Harry’s birthday rolls around, Sirius has dragged Harry and Draco to Italy, to see magical Venice and the ICW in Rome, which Harry finds quite interesting, particularly hearing about the training opportunities for the healing arts. He also takes them to a magical enclave in Lyon, and a long weekend on the French Riviera.

In between, they stay in London or at the farmhouse, depending on their schedule. Harry has a few more lessons with Professor McGonagall, but Draco doesn’t join them after that first one. If McGonagall had been insulted, she doesn’t say anything, and no one else does either.

Harry doesn’t ask, because he figures he doesn’t need to know the answer. He trusts that his dad is handling it, and he knows his dad well enough to know that if Draco needed correction, he’d deliver it, and likely in private.

Sirius isn’t interested in public correction for the sake of shaming.

Harry works on his summer reading, and he writes back and forth with various friends. He plays Quidditch with Lionel and Therese and Draco when they’re at the farmhouse.

It’s been the best summer Harry has ever had, and when his birthday comes around, they all descend on Longbottom Manor. The full moon was earlier in the month, so Remus is safe to attend, and had been invited by Augusta as Sirius’ partner.

Harry figures it’s probably an open secret at this point, that Sirius and Remus are together. There will always be those who ignore their relationship, and those who criticize it, but there are also those who accept it wholeheartedly, and that does give Harry hope.

Even if Harry has no earthly idea about who he might like to be with for any length of time.

They bring Therese and Lionel with them, because it’s easier for the Deschamps that way, so they’re all in smart clothes for the more formal affair, with overnight bags packed for the more casual party the following day.

August and Neville greet them at the door, and Augusta is clearly in an expansive mood, because she greets Sirius and Remus in the French fashion, with kisses on both cheeks, and then does the same for Harry. She’s slightly more restrained with Draco and the Deschamps, offering a handshake with a warm welcome as Harry pounds Neville on the back.

“How has your summer been, mate?” Neville asks.

“Really good,” Harry replies. “Really, really good. What about you?”

Neville grins. “Great. I’ve been looking forward to this. Well, maybe not today, but tomorrow, for sure.”

“Next year, we can switch off, and do the fun thing on your birthday,” Harry offers.

Neville nods eagerly. “That sounds good.”

Augusta is speaking with Draco. “Your mother should be here shortly, Draco.”

Draco nods, a smile beginning to form. “Thank you, Madame Longbottom. I’m looking forward to seeing her again.”

“I’m sure,” she says kindly. “How has your summer with Sirius been?”

Draco pauses, and then says, “Enlightening.”

Augusta smiles. “I’m sure. Neville, please show our guests to their rooms. The others should be arriving shortly.”

Neville leads them upstairs, showing Sirius and Remus to one room, then turns to Therese. “We’ve put you in with Hermione. I hope that’s all right.”

Therese smiles. “Of course. Thank you for the hospitality. Hermione and I got on quite well, so that will be fine.”

Neville nods, looking relieved. “Great, that’s what I thought. Harry, you’re in with Lionel. Draco, you’ll be with Blaise, since he’s coming today with his mum.”

Harry nods. “Sounds good.”

Draco nods and disappears into the room Neville points out, and Neville shows him and Lionel to their room and follows them inside. “Gran was really pleased with our suggestion,” Neville offers. “I think she usually feels a bit bad that my birthday tends to be a political event. This way, I get to have it both ways, in a sense.”

Harry sets his bag down. “I get that. Dad would never have pressured me, but I know this makes it easier on him, too.”

“That’s the problem with your guardian being political,” Neville says sympathetically.

“I still feel safer knowing that my dad and your gran have a say in the government,” Harry says wryly. “Imagine how Fudge might have bungled the whole thing with Voldemort.”

Neville grimaces. “No, thanks. How is Hermione getting here?”

“Dad is going to go pick her up,” Harry replies. “Is probably doing so right now, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, let’s go downstairs,” Neville says. “I think the other guests are going to start arriving. Sorry, Lionel, it will probably be kind of boring for you.”

Lionel shrugs. “I knew that when Harry invited me. Therese is here, and I’ve become friendly with Draco over the summer. I’m just looking forward to meeting other students. I’m a bit jealous that Therese was able to make all those connections at Hogwarts this year.”

Sure enough, Sirius has already retrieved Hermione, and Neville is tasked with showing her to the room she’ll share with Therese that night. Harry takes up a position near the front door with Neville, along with Sirius and Augusta, to greet the guests as they arrive.

It’s an afternoon reception, with a variety of nibbles and drinks. Narcissa is the first to arrive, and she greets Augusta coolly, but is quite warm with Harry. “Happy birthday, cousin,” she says.

“Thank you, cousin,” Harry says cheerfully. “And thank you for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Narcissa says. “It’s important for you to celebrate your birthday in style.”

Harry is pretty sure that he’d rather celebrate it by playing Quidditch, but that’s on deck for the next day. That, and he didn’t want Neville to suffer alone.

Plenty of people from the Wizengamot come, political allies and opponents alike. There’s the chief Unspeakable, Director Bones, the new Undersecretary, Max Andros, with his fiancee Hippolyta Mayweather, and a lot of others.

Arthur and Molly Weasley arrive about an hour after the start time, with a sheepish Ron in tow. George and Fred and Ginny were also invited, and so they’re also there.

“I’ll be with you in a bit, mate,” Harry tells Ron.

Ron nods. “Dad informed me. Besides, this is the formal bit, innit? The real fun begins tonight.”

“Something like that,” Harry agrees.

Ron claps him on the shoulder and says, “Think I’ll go say hello to Hermione. Good luck.”

Harry and Neville have been briefed on their duties, so they stay to greet guests until most of them have arrived, save for a few who are fashionably late, or who haven’t RSVPd. After that, they’re expected to mingle, and not just with their friends.

By mutual accord, he and Neville split up. Neville has no problem speaking politely with anyone who shows up, but Harry has every intention of hiding behind his dad.

Harry knows that any number of the adults present would love to ask him about what had happened with Voldemort. If he’s with his dad, they won’t dare.

Sure enough, any time someone so much as starts to mention “You-Know—“ Sirius won’t let them get any further, frowning mightily to cut them off. With his dad already the Minister, it’s not like Harry has to campaign for him. In fact, Harry gets the sense that a lot of people just want to make sure that he’s okay, and is in one piece and not overly damaged by what happened.

Harry had heard that The Daily Prophet had planned on running a story about him, and that his dad had been tipped off and raised holy hell, threatening to ruin everyone involved. The only reason Harry knows this much is that he’d overheard a conversation between his dad and Remus.

When Harry asked Sirius about it later, his dad had said, “Don’t worry about it, love. They understand that if they’re going to print anything about you, it must be the truth. At least, they understand that now.”

Harry understands, as people keep trying to ask him questions he’s not interested in answering, and Sirius shuts down the conversation time after time.

The only truly uncomfortable conversation comes with Tiberius Ogden, who peers at him from slightly rheumy eyes. “Hmm, I think you’ll do, young man.”

Harry swallows. “I’ll do for what?”

“When it comes time, you’ll do what’s necessary,” Ogden says knowingly. “You’ve got a good head and a strong set of shoulders.”

Before Harry can say anything else, the old man wanders away, and Harry blinks. “What—what did he mean?”

Sirius sighs. “He knows about the whole Deathly Hallows business, and he’s rather invested in it. But, as we discussed, it’s not something you need to worry about now, and likely not for decades to come.”

Professor McGonagall has also come, and when Harry greets her, she says, “How are the flying lessons going, Harry?”

“Really well,” Harry replies. “I feel very comfortable in my form.”

She nods firmly. “Good. I’m not surprised. You really are a natural. Some of that is surely from James, but traits can pass through magical adoption, too.” She pauses. “It might interest you to learn that Professor Snape has taken up a research position with another institution, and he won’t be returning to teach Potions.”

Harry keeps a straight face with some effort. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Professor.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Hm. I find that rather hard to believe.”

Harry gives her his most innocent smile. “I’ll miss his eye twitching when his students get a potion right the first time.”

That actually makes her bark a laugh. “Well, the apple didn’t fall from the tree, for all of your parents.” She leans in close and says, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ve been selected as prefect next year.”

Harry feels himself flush, and he smiles. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Your leadership and kindness to the younger years, including those outside your own house, has not gone unnoticed, Harry,” she replies. “Although, I will admit that it was a difficult decision between you and Neville.”

“Maybe we can make him an alternate,” Harry replies.

“Perhaps,” McGonagall replies. “Happy birthday, Mr. Potter-Black.”

Harry beams. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the important people start to leave, and Harry and Neville are released from their duties. There’s a large tent with a dance floor set up in a large, flat area in the garden of Longbottom Manor, with treats sure to tempt anyone with a sweet tooth.

There’s the wizard equivalent of a DJ, and Harry immediately goes over to Hermione. “Hey! Sorry I didn’t get to say much before.”

“Sirius warned me,” Hermione says fondly, and pulls Harry in for a hug. “This is wonderful, Harry.”

Harry looks around the tent, which has started filling up with friends. Augusta had thrown open Longbottom Manor to anyone who wanted to come, with the understanding that they’d be on their best behavior. Some would show up today with their parents, and others tomorrow morning for a day of Quidditch and other games.

He sees Draco huddling with Blaise and Daphne, but then Daphne waves at a Ravenclaw from their study group, and Blaise cheerfully greets a Hufflepuff.

Harry sees Neville standing with Ron, Dean and Seamus, all of them laughing.

And then Lionel runs up to him and hugs him. “Harry! Come dance!”

Therese follows a little more sedately, and holds out a hand to Hermione. “Come on! We can all dance.”

Harry holds out one hand to Hermione, and his other to Lionel. “We should definitely dance.”

And then his eyes meet Draco’s, and Harry just raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge. They’ve spent enough time together over the summer that Harry knows he’ll understand.

Sure enough, Draco drags Blaise and Daphne onto the dance floor, and that causes an avalanche of bodies, so many bodies joining together in a raucous tribute to summer and happiness and freedom.

Harry can see Augusta watching with a smile on her face, and Sirius and Remus are standing together, their arms around each other, and Harry thinks, “I think this could go on forever, and I’d be happy.”

And he gives himself over to the feeling of being on the eve of being fifteen with his friends.

It’s perfect.

---