Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Uneasy Alliances ( Chapter 27 )

Part 27

Finally released, Draco looked into Harry's eyes and found no betrayal, no disappointment. His relief made him feel lighter than air.

"You're not angry?" he asked.

Harry put his arms around him and drew him close, folding him up so he couldn't get away. The embrace put pressure on the bite in his shoulder, but Draco swallowed the ache.

"I..." Harry sighed. "That's the price of a dark family, isn't it? You have to do what your father orders."

"Loyalty before everything," Draco whispered. "Harry, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell him no, but--"

"But you have no choice." Harry stood straight as a thought occurred to him. "I hope your father doesn't expect me to follow his orders."

"I don't think father's thought about that yet," Draco said, and he certainly didn't plan on bringing it up. "Severus probably doesn't expect it, either."

They both stepped apart as the door opened and Nymphadora came in. She smiled at Harry and gave only a curt nod to her cousin.

"Dinner'll be served at five," she said. "You've got 'till then."

"Three and a half hours," Draco murmured. "I hope we don't have to spend that all outside."

"It's not that cold," Harry said. "The sun's even come out."

"Feels a bit worse when you're on the mend." Draco watched with some amusement as Harry noticed that he was squeezing Draco's shoulder and drew back as if afraid he might break him.

"That bite of yours is still healing?" Harry didn't wait for an answer but drew Draco towards one of the wooden benches, wiping the snow away with his hand and sitting beside him. "Does it hurt? Oh Merlin, I was holding you too tight, wasn't I?"

"I'm fine," Draco reassured him. "It was worth it anyway. Sitting so close for hours without being able to talk to you...torture."

"I was just happy to see you alive," Harry said. As if he couldn't bear letting go for long, he put his arm around Draco again, this time careful not to touch his bite. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. You ran off all of a sudden."

Draco didn't miss the hurt accusation in Harry's voice and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, staring at their footprints in the snow. "Things happened so fast and we had to run. And--for awhile I thought you'd be better off without me."

"What?" Harry turned and, when Draco wouldn't meet his eyes, put his hand under Draco's chin and made him look up. "Are you mad? You'd face Voldemort but you wouldn't--"

"I didn't face the dark lord." Draco sighed and slumped against Harry. It was a move he'd seen his mother use against his father, and it didn't fail him now. As he spoke, Harry held him and his touch turned gentler. "I cowered behind you. Get it through your head, Potter, I'm a coward. I'm a dark wizard. If it wasn't for the political necessity of this, the whole world would shun you as much as it does me. As it is..."

He closed his eyes and nuzzled against Harry's warm robes. "I'm afraid someone might kill me to free you."

Across from them, Nymphadora leaned against a willow tree, careful not to shake the snow from its branches. "We won't let that happen."

"It's you aurors I'm most afraid of," Draco grumbled, glaring at her from the corner of his eye.

Nymphadora stifled a groan as she stared at the sky. "Despite Fudge and Kingsley yelling in there, I think you'll find that most of us want this to work. Voldemort destroyed so much already. No one wants another war."

"We'll see," Draco said. "After we're married and no one tries to kill anyone else. Then I might believe it."

Harry smoothed back his blonde hair, twirling the ends around his fingertips. "You thought this might be a trap, didn't you?"

Draco nodded. "If father doesn't send word back before tonight, they'll assume we're dead and move again."

"Mm." Harry pressed a kiss to his hair. "And you still came."

For a moment Draco didn't answer. Coming here had gone against everything he knew from his memories and dreams, and his master was right that it was a stupid, reckless Malfoy thing to do. That they might save their community was little more than a happy footnote to his real reason for coming.

"I wanted to see you."

A soft, satisfied chuckle answered him. "You keep saying you're a coward, but look at all the things you've done."

"Ran from dragons and dark lords?" Draco muttered. "Hid in my common room? Let myself be lured into a potential trap just because I miss you?"

When Harry smiled and nuzzled his hair, Draco wished he could make himself feel at least a little resentful at being ignored. But Harry was warm and wrapped him up so that he felt safe for the first time in…

Draco sighed. He hadn't felt safe since his father had been arrested.

"For some reason," Nymphadora cut in, "I don't think you two need all that much time to 'get to know each other'."

"I wouldn't mind," Harry said, "but if I got to know him any better, I think we'd have to go find a bedroom."

Draco's eyes widened slightly in realization. "Well, we are intended now. I don't think we have to wait for a betrothal spell--"

"Oh no you don't," Nymphadora said, straightening. "You two aren't allowed to do anything interesting until you're married. 'Sides, Dumbledore said you dark wizards were big on marriage and wedlock. Aren't you supposed to be worried about your honor and all that?"

Draco stiffened, squirming when Harry tightened his grip around him. Sanctimonious blood traitor talking like she knew everything about him. Bad enough Severus lectured him all the time, but if he had to take scolding on his own culture from an ignorant little pissant--

"Wait," Harry said, glancing up at her. "That's right. You're not a dark witch. I thought you were from the same family, though."

She sniffed and leaned back against the tree again, staring at the sky. "Not everyone from a dark family is dark."

"Your family wasn't dark," Draco snapped. "Miserable damn mu--"

"Draco," Harry murmured.

The slur evaporated from his mouth. He didn't think Harry would really hit him if he called anyone a mudblood, but he didn't want to tempt Harry's anger. The memory of the Gryffindor's enraged attack in the dungeons seemed so impossible for the boy holding him and touching his hair, but Draco knew the strength of his intended's hands.

"But Harry," he whispered. "She's not dark, she wouldn't know. She's just going on about things she doesn't have the slightest clue about."

"Did he feed you that line about being born dark?" Nymphadora laughed and shook her head. "I'm sure they wish it was true. Those of us who leave the fold grew up with the family secrets, so the Ministry's always keen to get us."

"You might've been in the family," Draco hissed, "but you weren't born dark. Your magic's tainted with muggle blood." His voice dripped with disdain as if her mere presence tainted him as well.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued over her.

"We worked it out once, you know. What you get for betraying family," he said. "From your paychecks. Two hundred galleons for a dead wizard. One hundred fifty for a witch. Seventy-five galleons for a dead child--"

The accusation visibly stung her and she roared back. "Aurors don't kill children! We don't kill anyone who surrenders."

"No, you just lock them all up in Azkaban until their souls die," he said, finally squirming free of Harry's grip and shooting to his feet. "Their blood's on your hands as much as if you'd killed them--"

"Your society's the one that love's blood--"

"You honor that child-killing Merlin--"

"As if your Morgan didn't kill as many of us--"

"She was the only one who'd protect us from you blood-thirsty--"

"Hypocrite! You might pretend your night rides are just joy rides--"

"We had to survive somehow when you lot started killing us--"

"You were murderers! I'll not apologize for my ancestors!"

"Nor will I!"

Draco's hand was already on his wand and so was Nymphadora's, but before either of them took aim, Harry stepped between them and spread his arms both to shield Draco and to block any spells he cast.

"Enough! Both of you!" He glared at them and waited until they looked away from each other, all of them taking a deep breath when it became clear that no one was going to kill anybody.

The courtyard door opened and Severus stepped out, his own wand drawn, but he slowly lowered his hand when he saw no pitched battle in front of him.

"I heard raised voices," he said, drawing near Draco and ignoring everyone else. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Draco grumbled. "Although in the interest of avoiding a diplomatic incident, perhaps we'd be better off with a different chaperone."

"Fine by me," Nymphadora said between gritted teeth. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the courtyard, muttering obscenities under her breath all with Draco's name attached.

Harry sighed and gave him an exasperated look. "Draco…"

"Don't start," Draco muttered. "Don't--I just want to sit with you for awhile, and she goes off like some damn know-it-all about something she doesn't even understand, and it's not like I'll just sit and take being called evil or--"

"I know." Harry put his arms around Draco and let him lean on his shoulder. His fingers ran through Draco's hair and he was a cloud of warmth in the cold air. "I know."

Severus put his wand away with a sigh. Nymphadora's voice carried from inside the house, muffled as she complained to someone, probably Scrimgeour. If they hadn't caused a diplomatic incident, Severus would count himself lucky.

"Your father will not be pleased."

"That I didn't kill her?" Draco asked. "I didn't think--"

"No, you didn't." Severus turned and walked away, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if they were following. "You never do, so I don't know why it always surprises me."

Draco hurried to catch up, but when they went inside, he had to settle for walking just behind his master's shoulder. Nymphadora, Scrimgeour and Remus all stood together watching them go by. To run in front of any Ministry wizards would have been unthinkable. Draco knew they had to present a united front, even if that meant the apprentice had to cater to a sullen master.

"He's already angry that I let you two grow so close, and now thanks to the headmaster's damn comment, he's trying to drag every last detail of the past few months out of me."

"Got to the part about the dragons yet?" Harry asked with a grin.

Severus whirled and snarled at him. "You will say nothing of how close that was. If he knew--"

"If I knew what?"

Lucius stood in the open doorway of their room, an inked quill twirling in his fingers. The picture of idle aristocracy, his effect was marred by his intense glare at Severus.

"For someone as enamored of subterfuge as you," Lucius said, slowly drawing out each syllable so that they weighed down on Severus, "you've never been good at keeping secrets from me. I wonder why you keep trying."

With some effort, Severus stood straight. "Old habits."

The ghost of a smile flickered over Lucius. "Ah yes. I remember."

Despite the fond tone or because of it, Severus glared back at him, his expression as sullen as Draco's when he didn't get his way. Lucius' drawl made everything he said seem sharper.

"Oh, get in here before you make even more of a spectacle of yourself." Lucius stood straight and gave them room to pass by, his gaze never leaving Severus so that the potions master kept his eyes averted. "And then perhaps I will finally hear about what went on while I was away."

"We survived and helped save the world," Draco offered, concerned for his master. "Kept the children alive, stayed out of Azkaban, finally got the Prophet on our side--"

"Yes, the Prophet." Lucius shut the door and locked it with a brass key that grew tendrils which burrowed into the knob and door frame, sealing it shut against intruders. Or against escape. Severus glanced at it and turned away, opening a small cabinet against the wall to reveal an assortment of alcohol which he rifled through. He offered nothing to anyone else as he poured a small amount and slammed it back.

If the Diggorys had survived the war, which Draco didn't know, he couldn't tell by looking around these guest rooms. No pictures adorned the walls, no mess made it look lived in. Much like the foyer that he now realized was probably the dining room, the furnishings were impeccably inoffensive. Blue carpeting, cream walls, tasteful curtains and dark wood everything else, from the bed to the scattered chairs to the small desk in the corner. Tall windows let in the sun's glare and warmed the clear glass panes. No doubt his father felt at home in this impersonal, office-like setting. Draco felt stifled, although he wasn't sure if that came from living so long in the cool, shadowy dungeons or from the scheming gleam in his father's eyes.

"We were able to pick up a stray copy of the Prophet here and there," Lucius said. He sat down beside the fire and watched their faces for any tattletale looks, but his gaze came to rest on Harry as if he were vermin. "Potter."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand in the hopes of keeping him quiet. No such luck.

"Lucius." Harry tilted his head with a growing smirk. "So. While we were fighting off saboteurs and the dark lord's schemes, you were camping in the woods?

"Harry--" Draco whispered, but his father cut him off.

"Potter, because for some unfathomable reason my son finds favor with you, I will tolerate your nonsense to a point." Lucius' drawl became a warning. "But only to a point."

"I killed the dark lord," Harry said in some surprise. "Why should I care what you think?"

"Because Draco cares what I think," Lucius said, his words clipped and precise. "Draco will obey my every command."

Shoulders squared, Harry drew in a sharp breath. "You talk like he's a robot."

Lucius frowned and Draco tilted his head in confusion, but before they could ask, Severus answered them as he set his glass down too hard.

"A muggle contraption," he muttered. "Like a poppet made of iron. No mind of its own."

Unimpressed that muggles had something approximating their own magic, Lucius turned his attention back to Harry. "Obedience has nothing to do with lacking will," he said, "and everything to do with loyalty."

"He's not a dog to be ordered about--"

"Why do you twist things like loyalty and obedience into something evil?" Lucius snapped. "Children obey their parents--"

"He's not a child--"

"He is part of this family--"

"You're treating him more like an elf--"

The rising voices crushed on top of Draco until he gave up, standing and crossing the room to stand beside Severus. The air felt like mud. The walls felt too close. If this was how his master felt every time he retreated to the liquor cabinet--he poured his own drink, ignoring Snape's raised eyebrow. If he could just let his anxiety slip away for a moment--

"Draco, no."

With a harsh hiss, Draco slammed the glass down, sending untasted alcohol sloshing over the edges onto the wood.

"Father…" he whispered. "Please."

"You know how it reacts to our blood," Lucius said. His voice turned soft as if puzzled by his son's behavior. "It will make you sick."

"Then don't drive me to it." Draco looked over his shoulder, but he didn't meet his father's eyes, instead staring at a spot on the floor. "Don't make me choose, please."

No one spoke. Lucius tried to speak, thought better of it, opened his mouth again and still remained silent. Opposite him, Harry glowered at Lucius and found his anger useless when Lucius wouldn't return the same.

After a minute and no one showed any sign of saying anything, Severus breathed out. "Lucius, Draco, would you please go into the other room? Perhaps you need some time to speak alone."

"I think you're right," Lucius said, rising smoothly to his feet and disappearing into the adjoining chamber. A moment later, Draco followed him, closing the door after himself with a soft click. He didn't look up at his father, instead studying the speckled pattern of the carpet. His robes, tight beneath his cloak, felt like they might suffocate him.

"You are a Malfoy," Lucius said. He paced a few steps and drew up short at the wall, irritated that between the four poster bed and the chest of drawers, there wasn't enough space to work off his frustration. "That will never change."

"I don't want it to change," Draco sighed. He ran his hand through his hair as he leaned against the door. "I just…"

"Just what?"

When Draco refused to answer, Lucius stepped in front of him, seizing his son's chin in his gloved hand and forcing his face up. "I have lived longer, gained more experience and understanding. I command your obedience, just as you shall command your own child's. Why is this so difficult for you now? You've never defied me before."

"And I'm not!" Draco pulled away and took a step back, accidentally backing into the door. "For God's sake, I was about to let you condemn me to any strange girl that fit your list. How bloody obedient do you need me to be?"

"I would not have arranged a marriage to someone you could not grow close to," Lucius insisted. "Arranged marriages need not be unpleasant. Your mother and I fit perfectly."

"And Harry and I do not fit perfectly," Draco admitted. "I know this will cause problems, but…"

A long pause followed. Lucius stared at him, waiting until he grew impatient.

"If you know this union will cause problems for all of us," Lucius asked, "then why?"

Draco's shoulders slumped and he sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Because it isn't all problems. Yes, we argue and he hates some of my ideas and he's so stupid sometimes. But father, I--when he holds me or looks at me, it's like--it's like--"

He couldn't finish. Explaining why he and Harry worked made no sense in his own mind. How could he hope to explain to a dark wizard who valued blood over love? Something so intangible yet physically impossible to live without?

"It's like the light is softer."

Hearing the muted tone of his father's voice, Draco glanced up at him in surprise.

"Without them, food loses all savor and the world is that much colder." Lucius breathed out and stared at the door as if he could see Severus through it. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Lucius sat down on the edge of the bed, loosening his hair from its ribbon as he carefully considered his next words. "Potter is joining this family. I will expect him to abide by our rules. Do what you can to make that stubborn little brat understand that."

"Harry's always been pretty stubborn," Draco mumbled. "And he doesn't like you."

"The feeling is mutual," Lucius muttered under his breath. "Remind him that love isn't just the autumn whirlwind it's been for you so far. It's compromising your comfort and sanity for your intended's needs."

"Mm. So far I think I've done most of the compromising." Draco sat down next to his father and let his shoulders slump. He'd never tell his father about Harry punching him in the dungeons or tearing into his mind, or threatening to hurt him for saying 'mudblood.' "He keeps trying to believe I'm brave or good or something I'm not. Then he acts betrayed when I don't live up to his standards."

"Yes, sounds like a Gryffindor," Lucius said. "On the other hand, I'm sure he's easy to manipulate."

"Sometimes," Draco answered. "His temper is really good for that."

"I wouldn't trust in a Gryffindor's temper," Lucius said. "They tend to be rather volatile. You're as like to be hurt as to get your own way. At least it's easier to manipulate someone who loves you. Manipulating violent Gryffindors can sometimes backfire."

For a moment, Draco remembered something Severus had said a long time ago, about his father surviving a fight by the skin of his teeth and only worrying about potential scars. Wondering if that fight had occurred in Hogwarts, he was about to ask when they both heard Severus' raised voice over Harry's as the potions master struggled to verbally beat something into Harry's head.

Draco frowned and reached for the doorknob, but his father's hand closed over his, stopping him. Without a word Lucius leaned close and held his breath, straining to make out each word. Draco followed suit.

"--ildren," Severus was saying. "There's no help for it."

"Is he talking about when we have our own children?" Draco whispered, scowling as Lucius shushed him.

"Don't expect for a moment that you can change them," Severus continued, sounding like he was pacing back and forth. "Childish, arrogant, overbearing…and acting the same way in return will only make them worse. If you're going to survive living as part of their family--don't make that face. You knew damn well marrying Draco would make you a Malfoy--"

Severus paused unexpectedly. "Don't tell me that never occurred to you?"

The lingering silence swallowed Harry's reply, but Severus' next comment more than made up for it.

"Did you honestly think that he'd take your name? You know how important blood and family are to them. You're lucky Lucius even permitted this. And there's another thing. You'd better learn to take orders from him--don't bother whining. He's in charge of this family and there's no getting around it."

A pause. Harry was talking. Draco could just make out his voice as he snorted.

"Yes," Severus said, "he's childish, but he's also a brilliant manipulator. Don't underestimate him just because you've bested him before. You faced him in a physical fight, but Malfoys are politicians are heart. Even if he can't manipulate you, he can manipulate everyone around you. Pick your battles carefully, boy."

"My sweet defender," Lucius muttered, but the amusement in his eyes belied his tone. Draco knew that look well from his own reflection. Backhanded compliments were the only kind his master ever offered. He wondered if Severus even knew how to compliment someone without pushing them away at the same time. In a way, it made him more endearing.

"Potter won't change his name," Draco whispered. "It's all he has left of his parents, really. Except for a couple odd mementos."

Lucius gave him an incredulous look, but after a few seconds he shrugged. "Saves us the indignity of having him with our name."

Nothing would have changed his father's mind, so Draco didn't bother trying. They both listened for any further sounds from the other room, but Severus and Harry seemed determined to speak in lower tones. Perhaps Severus knew his Malfoys well enough to guess that they would eavesdrop. Draco frowned. If Severus felt comfortable enough to call them names if they were listening, how awful did his comments have to be for him to lower his voice?

Bored now that they could no longer listen in, Lucius turned his attention back to his son. "While we're on the subject, why Potter? I know you've been through a lot lately, but I never would have guessed stress would addle your mind so badly."

No doubt this was merely the start of all the teasing, questioning and plain confusion over why he would choose Harry. Draco hated hearing it, but he couldn't bring himself to blame his father, either. He knew he'd never be able to give anyone a reason beyond--

"I love him."

Which didn't impress Lucius in the slightest, but at least he merely sighed like a martyr and didn't ask again.

"I will refrain from baiting him," he said. "But I expect the same in return. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father." Draco sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, running one hand through his hair.

He wasn't sure he could convince Harry to stop antagonizing his father and master. Demanding his obedience would probably backfire disastrously. Perhaps some fake tears and sugary pleading? He winced at the thought.

The problem could wait for a little while, though. The wedding would not be for some time yet, no doubt. With any luck, he'd think of something by then.

A week later, he stood in front of the most important people in the wizarding world, still clueless and struggling to hide his nervousness in front of a crowd used to dueling at the drop of a galleon.

Aurors and Knights stood at attention, eyeing each other and the crowd of witches and wizards packing the Diggory estate. Dozens of strong anti-curse and anti-jinx charms lay over the entire house like a complex net, but neither side trusted he other not to have left gaps in the security. Although the rest of the house was guarded, the courtyard perimeter swarmed with almost as many guards as guests.

Draco felt keenly aware of the world's eyes on his back. Most of the surviving upper echelon of the Ministry sat on Harry's side, taking up the pews lined up to the far side of the garden. Harry's handful of guests filled the first two rows with a line of red heads and Gryffindor school robes, with one Ravenclaw stringing corks on a new cord.

On the other side of the courtyard, nothing but dark wizards sat in their black robes, their hoods pushed back so they didn't look too ominous. Some of them visibly squirmed under the light wizards' gaze as their identities lay exposed. Light wizards stared at their acquaintances and neighbors as if they were strangers separated by a wide, impassable gulf.

Beneath the snow-covered willow, Draco slid his hand into Harry's and felt a reassuring squeeze. His other arm no longer lay in a sling, but despite his master's best efforts, his hand also no longer curled into a complete fist. He counted himself lucky that he could still grasp a wand, but he knew he would never regain full use of it. Already it ached when the weather turned wet and chilly.

"May your marriage be blessed and each of you a comfort to the other," Scrimgeour said, pronouncing the last few lines of the ceremony. There had been far too many references to Merlin and the Ministry for Draco's liking, but this marriage had to satisfy the light wizards. "By the power vested in me by the Ministry and our founder Merlin, I now pronounce you husband and husband."

Harry leaned forward to take his kiss, obviously eager to enjoy at least a little of the boring ceremony, but Draco put his hand on Harry's cheek and forced him to keep it chaste. As far as Draco and his society were concerned, the real marriage had not yet taken place.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, confused. "We're married now. It's all right."

"Wait until sunset," Draco whispered back. "Please. I promise it'll be worth it."

Frowning slightly, Harry didn't understand but he didn't argue.

No dancing followed. Tensions ran too high for a normal reception, and in the ballroom the light and dark wizards kept themselves segregated on opposite sides of the room seated at their own tables, mingling with no one. Draco and Harry had to remain in the center to speak with both groups, reassuring the skeptical that Harry was not under a spell and that Draco was not renouncing the darkness.

Annoyed by the attention, Harry kept up a fake smile as he endured Ministry officials and the cream of British wizarding society. Every wizard and witch with an official title, from the Minister of Magic to the lowliest Third Clerk of the Department of the Lost and Found, came by with a word of congratulations or an offer of help "if Harry ever needed it for whatever reason."

Draco kept close at Harry's side, never more than an arm's length from him, scared someone might try to curse either one of them. Overcast skies and a gray sun cast a pale light, and as the scrupulously polite conversation constantly murmured around him, he watched the shadows grow longer and deeper, and felt the inexorable pull of night's promised shelter.

People pushed around him. The air grew heavier and heavier. No one looked at him with anything except nervous suspicion. Better than threats or curses, of course, but the wary glances never let up and Draco felt as if his body would begin to twist up in knots like his stomach. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away from the last well-wisher, dragging him through the crowd to a table in the corner.

Narcissa noticed them first and flicked her wand at a pair of extra chairs, pushing them out for the boys and touching Draco's shoulder as he sank into the closest seat. She gathered the loose wisps of his hair out of his face and smoothed them back, redoing the bow holding his hair in place.

"You should have come sit down earlier," she murmured. "You look like you're about to fall over."

"I feel like it," Draco said, closing his eyes and turning his head slightly so she could reach his hair easier. "I don't like being surrounded by them. I want to go to the Serpentia grounds."

"Not until sunset," Lucius said on the other side of the round table. He gave Harry a dirty look for letting his son exhaust himself, but kept his expression towards Draco mild. "You'd feel worse there now. Wait until the moon rises."

"But it's in the sky already," Draco moaned, not expecting to get his way but driven to protest by a sense of wounded fairness

"When the moon is the only light," Lucius clarified. "When the candles and bonfires light. The shadows you're hoping for haven't come out yet."

An unlit candle stood in the center of his family's table, just like all the other tables, waiting to be lit. As soon as the sun dipped low enough against the horizon, the candles would flare to life and the wedding party with all guests and guards would move to the spot his family had chosen for the real wedding. For now, lumos charms kept the creeping dusk at bay.

"Of course you have another ceremony to endure before you can escape," Severus said mercilessly.

Everyone at the table shot him a nasty look, but Narcissa gave her son a reassuring pat.

"A short ceremony," she said. "Much shorter than this one. And then you can slip off wherever you like--"

"--within the grounds--" Severus added.

"--and enjoy some time alone," she finished, glaring at him again.

Her look did nothing to faze him. "Until the morning when you have to act like diplomats, tour the damage in Hogsmeade, make appearances, tell everyone how committed you are to peace. Bright and early."

At Draco's wince, Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulders as if to shield him from his master. "That's not 'till they've finished clearing out all the jinxes left around Hogsmeade, and that won't be for another day or two at least. He'll have plenty of time to rest up."

"The Prophet will be at your doorstep the moment the wedding ends, if they aren't pressed against your bedroom window," Severus said.

"Your elves are back, aren't they?" Harry asked. "Can't they keep the reporters away?"

Draco looked up from his self-pity long enough to see his father shake his head.

"They went feral," Lucius sighed. "They'll take orders from Narcissa, but it'll be a long time before they're real house elves again. Unless we wanted the reporters torn to shreds. Tempting, true."

With a grumble, Harry slumped in his chair. "Then I'll have to chase them all off myself."

Nestling his head in the crook of his arm on the table, Draco reached out and found Harry's hand, holding him like a rock in a storm. If Harry said he would do something, unless Draco himself found a way to talk him out of it, Harry usually did it. And antagonizing the entire world didn't sound so awful if he meant he could sleep for another day. The reception blurred into background noise as he closed his eyes, drowsing amongst his family. It wasn't sleep, but at least for a little while he could pretend that the world didn't exist. Minutes crawled by, accompanied by the soft murmurs of his father's voice mingling with his mother and master's.

A scratching sound and the smell of a burning candlewick.

Draco looked up and found the candle aflame. All around them, every candle flared to life. The chandelier burned bright. The lumos charms around the ballroom all extinguished themselves, so that the swaying flames became the only light. A relieved sigh came from the dark wizards.

Shadows crept up around Draco like a comfortable blanket, concealing and covering him from the last rays of the sun. On the other side of the room, light wizards gathered together in tight groups, glancing around the room as if there might be creatures skittering along the walls.

For a few seconds Draco watched the flame burn steadily, the tiny fire almost perfectly still. On the other side of the candle, the moon shone through the window, silver and glowing brighter with every minute.

"Now?" he asked needlessly.

"Now."

Lucius rose, Narcissa and Severus following his lead. Draco stood up too quickly and felt himself suddenly grow lightheaded, but he swayed only a little before Harry put a steadying hand around him. Draco smiled despite himself and touched his hand.

"I'm fine," he whispered. "Just a little tired."

"Not too tired, I hope," Harry whispered back with a smile. "I'm looking forward to tonight."

"So am I," Draco replied, leaning closer. "I think we've waited long enough."

A cold hand clenched on Draco's good shoulder, not too gently pulling him straight again.

"You can wait a little longer," Severus said, steering Draco toward the door. "There are spells to protect your honor. Don't make me use them."

Draco cringed as Harry opened his mouth to argue, but to his relief, Harry thought better of it and let the comment pass. They walked out under Severus' supervision, following Lucius and Narcissa to the center of the courtyard, past the pews, to the same willow tree they'd stood beneath during the day. Lucius wiped some of the snow from the bark, revealing a rune carved into the tree.

"Berkana," he murmured, and disappeared.

Narcissa portkeyed out next. Draco couldn't resist a quick glimpse over his shoulder at the crowd behind them. Dark wizards and witches gathered behind them, pulling their hoods up out of habit. Clustered near the back and speaking in hushed whispers, the light wizards took hesitant steps after them, as nervous in the night as the dark wizards had been in the light.

When he appeared at the portkey's destination, he found himself in a wooded grove surrounding a pond. At once he shivered and drew close to Harry as soon as he emerged. The air here lingered on his skin, damp and warm despite the late season.

"What is this place?" Harry whispered beside him. "I can feel it all around me."

"It's one of the places the old gods used to travel," Draco replied, tugging the hood of Harry's cloak over his head. "Through the pond there. A snake spirit, I think."

"But then why's the magic--" Harry had to lower his voice as more people appeared behind them "--why's the magic still hanging around? They left hundreds of years ago, didn't they? Shouldn't the magic have all gone by now?"

With a sad smile, Draco looked up at him. "Now do you understand how powerful they were?"

Draco slipped his hand into Harry's and led him further down the path. Crickets leaped out of their way while fireflies flickered to life around them. Low hanging tree branches touched their hoods, but there were no leaves to block their view of the stars sparkling overhead. With the moon and the lumos charms in almost everyone's hands, the dark path looked more like a swath of swaying light and shadow.

They came to a stop at the pond. Kept bubbling by the lingering magic, the pond gave off a faint mist that swirled in a thousand directions around their feet. As before, the wedding guests split into two groups, the light wizards standing on Harry's side and the dark wizard's on Draco's.

Unlike during the Ministry's wedding, however, the dark wizards now stood straight, their hoods framing their faces. They knew this pond, were familiar with the grove and the woods around them. For centuries they had met here, and for centuries before that they had offered devotion and service to the god of the water. As the light wizards clustered together in tight clumps and looked over their shoulders at the black trees, the dark wizards relaxed and waited.

"We stand at the edge of Arviragus pond," Lucius began, his shadowed eyes scanning the crowd for the slightest movement. "Chosen for this occasion because of its legacy for our kind. Once the path between worlds for our old gods, it is also the place where our old religion died and our new faith began. A fitting place, then, where perhaps one era ends and another begins."

"Often dark wizards and witches are little more than children when they wed, forced to bind themselves together for protection after losing their families. The fortunate can cast their vows in a sacred place, but even that is hastily done. Because this union is so vital, we risk a true ceremony for the first time in decades."

As important as this was, sighs escaped from the light wizards around them. Draco smiled. They were used to long, drawn-out spectacles, especially at political events where the minister spoke for ages about Merlin and history and their hopes for the future. The brevity of this wedding would surprise all of them.

"Draco Malfoy," Lucius said, turning to his son. "True potions master, brother in the Knights of Walpurgis and son of the Malfoy lineage, you reaffirm your devotion to Morgan and Mordred, to our arts and our faith, and come to wed Harry James Potter before the eyes of God?"

The ceremony paused as Draco stood in mute shock. True potions master? Even Lucius had no say as to whether or not his master set him free from his apprenticeship. Before he could stop himself out of dignity for the ceremony, he looked to his right and spotted Snape next to his mother. His master nodded once.

Master no more. Severus was simply Severus, as he had been before Draco turned seven. Draco blinked. He no longer needed his master's approval or correction, but the sudden freedom felt as if not only had a weight been removed from his back, but as if a safety net had been removed from beneath him as well.

"I do," he breathed, forcing himself to speak.

As if there had been no pause, Lucius faced Harry, and this time his voice turned a little forced and strained. "Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Destroyer of Voldemort and son of the Potter lineage, you come to us from the other side of the sunset. Do you embrace the dark, renounce the Min--ahem, renounce the works of Merlin, and come to wed Draco Malfoy before the eyes of God?"

"I do," Harry said.

Lucius reached into his robe and withdrew a small knife. Draco recognized it from his master's--from Snape's workshop when they slit open birds and trimmed delicate flowers. An all purpose knife, versatile and razor sharp.

"Grasp the blade."

Even though Harry had been told about this part of the ceremony, Draco clutched the sharp steel first. His memories of such weddings were faded with age, but his blood knew the ritual. With a soft hiss, he jerked his hand once down the blade, slicing the skin deep enough that blood dripped down the metal and onto the damp earth.

Harry grasped the knife next, staring at it with a little trepidation but with no hesitation. He cut himself and then held his bloody hand out, wincing around his growing smile as Draco took his hand. Their blood mingled and welled out from between their fingers.

"The pain and joy of marriage is now yours," Lucius said. "Forever part of the other without beginning or end. I now pronounce you honorably bound."

Still clasping Harry's hand, Draco stepped forward for his kiss, and this time he let Harry take whatever he liked. Harry's free hand came up behind his neck and held him close as their bodies pressed together. Draco closed his eyes. This close, he thought he could feel a touch of the power sleeping within the Boy Who Lived, a reassuring shield between him and the world.

Perhaps it was the kiss which made everyone feel like this was less a political union and more of a love match. Perhaps it was the late hour and the warm forest. Perhaps it was simply because everyone was hungry and hadn't had much of a dinner before. Whatever the reason, when the wedding party finally left the grove and came to the clearing outside the woods, nearly everyone cheered when they saw several tables on the grass, each already sagging under the weight of conjured food. Tall bonfires lit the field and the full moon provided plenty of light where the flames couldn't reach.

As inviting as the food looked, Draco wondered why it was there. Dark weddings always ended with everyone else going home to safety. Draco glanced at his father, who shrugged.

"I figured a small concession to their social niceties was in order," Lucius said. "Besides, your mother wanted to properly celebrate your marriage."

'Properly celebrate' also seemed to include music, Draco thought as he heard the familiar strings of a traditional song celebrating the dark wafted through the crowd. Good thing most of them couldn't understand the old language. "Swa signe eower lagu an promyses secgan deorc oe ded, an couren bi oe heorth fyr an hyden bineoð an eower bed" sounded beautiful when sung, but it would have offended half of the guests.

"Do we have to stay here?" Harry asked, clearly hoping the answer was no.

"Not if you leave before anyone notices." Narcissa put her arms around Draco briefly and held him close, then stood back with a smile. "You'll be safest at the pond. It's warded a dozen times over. Tomorrow morning you can sneak back to the Diggory estate."

"You mean spend the night on the ground?" Harry asked.

"It's tradition. You'll be comfortable enough." She gave them both a gentle shove back toward the path. "Go on, before everyone comes to congratulate you again."

The warning cut off whatever Harry was about to say. Still hand in hand, they both disappeared back into the forest, passing a pair of Knights standing guard. Once they reached the pond again, they looked around for a suitable spot. Soft grass covered most of the ground, but for privacy Draco was forced to cast a grywania spell on the surrounding plants. The bushes grew thicker and taller while he coaxed vines around tree trunks and branches until he'd created a bower just big enough for them both. Harry unclasped his cloak and spread it over the ground, smoothing it out as Draco sealed up the opening so that no one could see them.

"She was right," Harry said. "It really is comfortable."

Draco sat down beside him and undid his own cloak, letting it pool on the ground. As he touched the first button of his collar, however, he realized he wouldn't be able to. The cut on his hand stung too much. It seemed useless and reckless to leave them unhealed, but the cut wasn't deep and healing it with magic was considered bad luck. As he gave it one more futile try, Harry stopped him, gently pushing his hand aside and undoing Draco's buttons himself. Not knowing what to do, Draco held still and let Harry open his robe and push it off of his shoulders down his arms. It felt wonderful, all of it did as Harry finished undressing him and put a hand on his chest, laying him down and easing on top of him while favoring his cut hand.

"Harry..." Draco murmured. "I don't know--I've never--"

"I haven't forgotten," Harry assured him, undoing Draco's ribbon and freeing his hair, twirling it around his fingers. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not," Draco spoke too quickly. He rose up on one elbow as Harry sat back, both of them regarding each other.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They both knew there were dozens of things they should talk about, especially now that they had some time alone--Harry's legilimancy and his anger, Draco's family and what they'd expect of him, the Ministry, the inevitable effects of the war and Voldemort's death--but it could wait. It could all wait.

"I love you," Draco whispered. Strange how it grew easier to say each time.

"I love you."

It was the last thing they said for the rest of the night.

To be concluded...