Everything, I am.

Rome 

24 March 2003

Sighing, Harry let the skipping rope slow as he glanced out the window, catching the rays of the sun creep along the horizon as Blaise, his partner in the Department of Mysteries, and unspeakable, undercover hit wizard passed the gym, for the forth time. 

Four years ago, he would have been irritated and annoyed at Blaise hovering, now it just confused him. Normally his partner had no problems blurting or in other circumstances over sharing information but there was something about the set of the other man’s shoulders that sent a prickling sense of unease down Harry’s spine. 

With another - purely internal sigh, Harry finished his repetition, banishing the skipping rope back to the wall and activating the cleansing rune, as he summoned a towel, wiping the sweat from his face as he snagged his t-shirt and followed after his silent and brody partner.  

Harry wasn’t one hundred percent sure what Blaise’s plans for the weekend was - at least not beyond chasing after his latest obsession. Harry didn’t even bother remembering the names, Blaise dropped anymore, the man changed his mind on a bio-weekly basis, sometimes making Harry worry about his emotional state and his inability to truly fall for someone.

The one and only time, Harry had mentioned that had backfired though, and he found himself on the receiving end of the same lecture, the only difference between the two of them, was Blaise’s ability to flaunt his choice to embrace in meaningless sex. Harry had tried, forgetting the number of faceless people- both men and women - he’d taken to his bed. Sure he’d learned a lot about himself, knew what he liked and didn’t like, and not a single person left his bed unsatisfied except himself, often feeling lonelier after the encounters.

Shaking his head, he tossing the T-shirt over his shoulder, continuing to wipe the sweat from his neck as he strolled into their shared office, instantly turning alarmed at the defeated posture Blaise was portraying.

The former Slytherin was hunched over in his chair, dark head in his hands, shoulders tense as if warding off expecting blows - even though Blaise had been free of his paternal uncle’s influence for four years, the man having been executed for war crimes during the war.

“Hey, Blaise what’s wrong?” Harry asked, anxiety jumping when his partner flinched, “is it your great-grandfather? Has he gotten worse? Oh, Merlin, is it your mom?”

Harry knew his great grandfather was ill, though it was age more than a sickness, but Blaise mother, Celestial was determined to save him, the only safety net the two had in the previous years. It had only been Malek’s title - Marquis - Italian it might have been, and influence plus riches that had saved them from most of Blaise’s paternal sides bigotry.

A weak somewhat desperate attempt at a laugh escaped Blaise, and the man raised his head shaking it, “no, sweet lady, you’re unbelievable sometimes.” 

Blaise released a sigh, straightening but dropping his head to the back of the chair, “who would have thought five years ago, you would have been worried about a Slytherin?”

Harry frowned unsure what to say and dropped his towel unceremoniously onto his desk, “I’d like to think if I hadn’t been purposefully made judgemental and allowed to form my own opinions things would have been different.”

Blaise grunted, rubbing his forehead with both thumbs.

Still concerned Harry watched his friend, knowing Blaise couldn’t really argue with that, the manipulation Harry had been under, publicly coming out six months after the war. One intrepid reporter even finding his muggle family. The newspapers had a field day recounting daily articles with the horrible life the ‘man who conquered’ had endured.

It had been the catalyst that kick started his need to leave England, though in truth he’d left for more reasons than just that. The betrayal of the Weasley family still fresh even if it had been four years. Pushing aside thoughts of that, he focused on Blaise who’d raised his head, eyes scanning Harry’s body with thinly veiled interest.

Lifting an eyebrow, Harry stretched leisurely,  and shook his head as he picked up his T-shirt and slipped it on, “you know it’d never work, Blaise.”

Snorting, Blaise shrugged, “maybe not, but you make a very pretty picture, Potter.” He ran an eye over him again, “I don’t understand the want for muggle workouts, but I can admit they do wonders for your body.”

Huffing a laugh, Harry shook his head trying not to preen, he knew he looked good, tall, muscular, black hair finally lying straight reaching his just past his shoulders, and no longer resembling a birds nest as he’d grown it out, a full beard he kept neatly trimmed, properly wizarding attire he knew Ron would have hated, and claim Harry didn’t need them. 

Rubbing a thumb over his signet ring, he shook his head to dispel the thought of Ron, still waiting on the apology he felt he was owed and knew he’d never receive, not having spoken to his former best friend since he left London. “So why are you looking like the end of worlds come? Did Warren assign us something horrible?”

“Gods I hope not.” Blaise responded halfheartedly, shaking his head, “no, I-“ he cut himself off, and sighed dropping his head to rub at his temples, “okay, maybe I do need to speak about this, but please reserve judgement until I’m finished, alright?”

Nodding easily, Harry rose to his feet, gesturing to the sidebar and the teapot, setting about making him tea while Blaise gathered his thoughts.

“My plans for the weekend were interrupted by a surprise visit, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it.” Blaise started, starring at the carpet under his feet, “Theo Nott showed up at my flat at 10:30 on Friday.”

Harry tensed, fingers tightening around the teapot, “you know he’s under suspicion for the fiasco in Bulgaria last year, there just wasn’t enough to tie him to either scene.”

“I bloody do know, I put him up as a suspect Potter.” Blaise snapped, and than took a deep breath when Harry held his hands up in supplication, “I already alerted Warren to his arrive, and he was grateful but worried because it’s unregistered and there has been no whispers of anything similar happening here.”

Harry frowned, nodding tightly, no there had been no whispers of death rituals in Rome, not since he’d stepped in the country. He got the odd prod from other places around the world, and some still in Britain but none had been urgent, and he hadn’t felt compelled to interfere like he had in Bulgaria. 

Blaise rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers to gain Harry’s attention again, making him flush as he finished Blaise’s tea, and handed him a perfectly brewed cup. “Anyway, my concern isn’t so much why Theo’s here in Rome, it’s who he’s dating.”

Harry paused as he sat down, trying to keep his face expressionless, balancing his coffee ignoring the judgemental eyebrow as he did so. It was a common everyday argument, tea versus coffee, and so far neither were winning. Blaise refused to drink coffee, and Harry would rather drink swamp water, than suffer another cup of tea, no matter how expertly brewed. “Who’s he dating?”

“Draco Malfoy.” Blaise responded after a sip, and shook his head in disgust, “which is,… Draco hated him all through school.”

Harry couldn’t help the scoff, and flushed as Blaise glared at him, and stated, “it was a Slytherin secret, they loathed each other, or well Theo wanted him, that was easy to see, but it was well known Draco would have hexed him before allowing Theo to even get in sniffing distance of his bedroom.” He paused and clarified at Harry’s confused expression, “I shared with Draco, Greg and Vincent shared, and Theo got stuck with the odd year student after that.”

“Okay, well it’s obvious I should have let the hat put me in Slytherin, sharing with one bloke would have been preferable than four others.” Harry drawled annoyance creasing his brow, as he stared at his tea missing the flash of surprise on Blaise’s face, “something’s changed if they’re together though, right?”

Blaise made a noise, and deflated, “yeah, but something isn’t right, Draco’s not himself. It’s-it’s like he’s fighting with himself, he barely talked to me, and refused to look me in the eye, he has no magical presence at all, and-and it might mean nothing, but Theo’s smug.”

Frowning to himself, Harry focused on Blaise when the other man continued to speak, “what bugs me overall, is I spoke to Draco regularly after the war, either by floo or owl post during his two year term on house arrest. I know he moved to France to be with his mom, and I received two letters before they stopped. No explanation, no return letters. I kept writing of course, but nothing, he never returned them, so as far as I know he got them but….” He trailed off, face pensive, “I should also add, no one else has spoken to Draco in three years, and we’ve all been worried. Now, I’m terrified and I can’t explain why.”

Harry took a large sip of coffee, leaning back in his chair, tapping the arm of his chair, “what about Theo?”

“What about him?” Blaise asked tiredly, focusing on his tea, “you know the timeline of his activities after the war as well as I do.”

Dipping his head Harry acknowledged that, somehow still unable to admit that it wasn’t fully accurate but added, “except for the time he disappeared from all scans, Yule of 1998 for four months, and in September of 2000, three months after Draco arrived in France.”

Blaise jerked his head up to look at him, “how do you know when Draco moved to France?”

“Because I talk to Narcissa regularly,” he responded dryly, and then added, “but she’s never mentioned anything about Draco seeing anyone.”

Frowning Blaise dropped his gaze, settling on the corner of his desk, “I still don’t like this, Harry. Something’s not right, his sentence ended three years ago, he should have access to his magic, but he doesn’t. He looks terrible, dark circles under his eyes, his hands shake, it’s-“ he sighed heavily, “I know Draco was a right git in school, and his actions during the war-“

“Blaise.” Harry interrupted softly, “I testified in Draco’s defense, remember? I was pissed he was found guilty even without the dark mark. They claimed because he was unable to assume the title because Lucius was alive, he must be guilty, even though it’s well known family magic doesn’t work like that. The only reason they didn’t assume command of the Manor was because they needed a place for Draco to serve his house arrest, though they did try and seize the monetary assets they were only legal able to demand a restitution because the ministry admitted they didn’t do enough to protect us, but it was still wrong.”

Snorting Blaise raised his head, “yes, the dark mark you attested to not seeing in school. You do know, I know you’re a parsalmouth, right?”

Grinning Harry shrugged unapologetic, “technically I said while we were students together in school, but it’s not my fault the British ministry is full of idiots. Draco proved himself in the end, technically all of them did, though I still can’t say I like Lucius, I understand his actions better than most.”

Laughing weakly, Blaise sighed, “well thanks for that, I guess. I just wish I knew what to do now.”

“Could bring me around for dinner?” Harry offered causally, sending his empty cup towards the sink with a wave of his hand.

Blaise shook his head instantly, “That won’t work. While it’s not known you work in the DOM, it is known you work for the ICW as the representative for Britain but no one knows what I do. It would raise to many questions, I can’t answer.”

“How long are they staying in Rome?” Harry asked curiously.

“Officially I don’t know, Theo muttered something about some business and Draco wanting to see the sights.” Blaise’s brow creased in confusion, “which is now weirder in hindsight, Theo acted as if Draco has never been here before, but I know for a fact his mother has a manor here, and he’s visited one summer with me.”

“I can put a spy on them, if you want?” Harry offered hesitantly, knowing it was one ability of a true parsalmouth that Blaise was uncomfortable with, though he’d admitted he was glad it was something only one such as him could weld. The idea that Voldemort could have done the same had freaked him out. It had taken time, and education but Harry knew now, that Tom Riddle hadn’t been a parsalmouth at all. It also hadn’t been a beast speaker spell gone array, the magic tags proved that much when searching his memories. No the tag that was keyed to his ability to speak to snakes was weird and twisted, like it had been an accident and Harry suspected it had been. Knowing what he knew of Riddle’s younger life, he thought it might have been a burst of accidental magic and merging of a snake, though the truth of that was something that would forever remain unsolved.

Blaise met his gaze for a long time before lowering his occulmany shields, sent the image of the two men, and turned his attention to the folder on his desk, effective ending the conversation.

Not drawing attention to it Harry held up a hand, and focused on it, conjuring twins snakes, made of mist. Giving them the image, he provided instructions, and watched them wiggle in excitement before disappearing. He still felt concerned, the itch between his shoulders blades not dissipating like the snakes, but it made him feel just a bit better. 

Opening his eyes, he shook his head to clear it of the lingering taste of parasalmagic, and followed Blaise turning to his desk, and opening the folder on top, and forced himself to focus on the words, knowing he’d have to wait for one of the twins to come back.

***

Harry couldn’t say it was slow at work, but bogged down in research and waiting on developments or action on other cases meant a lot of sitting and reading. He couldn’t say that his career had been a bad choice, it had allowed him to gain three masteries in the four years, one in duelling, runic magic, and a duel one international and European law. 

Now though he was going for a combined mastery in Magcial Theory and Spell Craft, and his classes required a whole bunch of books read, the latest of which was tickling something in his memory he wasn’t comfortable with. 

So it was a welcome distraction when the twins returned after nine days, their report was intriguing, it was also alarming, and it didn’t have to do with Draco.

No this was Theo and whatever he was up too. the twins had followed him, to a couple of different places over the country, proving Theo at least wasn’t staying in the city.

It was frustrating because while the snakes could tell which city he was in, they’d quickly loose his trail, and only find him when he left the city which is what had happened before, but instead of a magical interference Harry was starting to suspect the opposite. Theo was purposefully finding nulled areas where magic wouldn’t work, which hid his activities perfectly.

Tabling that for now, Harry turned his attention to Draco, the report was shorter, if not heartfelt, the twins responding to Draco’s emotional state, and scent, which bleed all over the place. His terror and fear keeping him trapped.

Shifting behind the edge of a colourful tent in the market place, Harry adjusted his hood, following the hunched cowed figure of Draco Malfoy. Noting the changes five years made, he was no longer gaunt and starved looking. Interestingly he hadn’t grown any, and it was a weird juxtaposition to realize he was now the taller of the two, as well as bulkier, easily topping Draco by a good five stone of solid muscle, though admittedly Draco had the lean build of what Harry had come to associate with someone who practiced magic on a near daily basis. that he didn’t get any sort of magical taste from him, was somewhat alarming and meant Blaise hadn’t been lying. In truth if felt like Blaise had underplayed what he’d sensed or noticed as Draco look terrible. he didn’t appear to be sleeping, tremors racked his frame, and he seemed to be almost cationic in regards to his situational awareness. Worse than anything he’d suffered during the war, and it broke Harry’s heart to see and sparked the sense of protectiveness he’d felt at the trials and wasn’t sure what do with now.

Glancing around the square again, Harry looked for hidden watchers, even though the twins had reported there were none, magical or otherwise. 

Slipping through the crowd, trailing after Draco, Harry still kept an eye out for anything out of place, which included Theo who Harry knew wasn’t in the city, and if his patterned held, he wouldn’t be back until late tonight or early tomorrow.

At the alley before the hotel Draco and Theo were staying at, Harry moved to intercept Draco, watching him freeze minutely before he ducked down the alley himself.

Frowning at the action, Harry eased into the alley, wondering if this had been a trap.

He banished the thought when he came face to face with a Draco he’d never imagined he’d envisioned, the man was back to the wall, hands twisting harshly together as he glanced around fervently. His mouth opening and closing as if fighting for the ability to use words, tears appearing in his eyes as they tracked down his body, eyes widening in shock, before blurting. “I sent Dobby to you.”

Warily, Harry shifted until his back was against a wall, standing across from Draco, keeping his posture relaxed, though he scrambled for a reason to bring Dobby up. His own eyes widening in sudden understanding, “why did you do that?”

“To protect you. I overheard father that summer, and desperately wanted to save you, I just didn’t expect Dobby to do what he did. Id never heard of a house elf facilitating their freedom before….” Draco inhaled sharply, eyes wide with terror as he leaned against the wall, body trembling.

Smiling sadly at the memory of Dobby, Harry cleared his throat, confessing carefully, “I found out after the war that he’d bonded to me that night, I’d like to think if he’d survived, he would have confessed because I would have done everything I could to nurture it.”

A weak flicker of pride passed over Draco’s face, as he reached up to brush the tears away, “I know you would have, you’re to honourable by half, Potter.”

“Did you ask Dobby to make an unbreakable?” Harry asked suddenly, moving as Draco shook his head.

“No, but he was bound by the house accord to do as order.“

Draco’s eyes filled with relief, as Harry grasped his arm and turned on the spot, landing them in his villa, activating the warwards with barely a thought. Directing Draco to the hidden stairs, he ushered him silently to the ritual room in the basement, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “I know you’re not able to tell me what’s going on, so for both of our safety before I start casting, I’m going to put you to sleep. When you wake up, whatever spells or compulsions you’re under will be gone, alright?”

There wasn’t a verbal response, but Harry wasn’t expecting one, though he was pleased when Draco pushed his weight against his arm, relieved he had that much freedom to express something. He understood with a visceral reaction the betrayal being controlled by someone else felt like.

Once in the ritual room, he let Draco go, watching as the other man looked around in wonder, and a hint of awe.

Swallowing hard, Harry cleared his throat, “I carved them myself, it was my final test for my mastery.“

“It- it’s beautiful, Harry.” Draco whispered, silver eyes tracking around the room, even as his hands came up to undo the clasps of his robe. “I loved ancient runes in school, but knew it would never be an accepted mastery.”

Humming softly, Harry shucked his robes, pulling his shirt from over his head, and pulling the belt from the loops and unzipped his jeans without a trace of shame or modesty, “it’s not to late to learn.”

Draco didn’t respond, but continued undressing until he was naked, a blush climb down his neck and chest showing he had enough freedom to act if given the opportunity, and moved to the cleansing cistern.

The blond froze at the edge, fingers clenching into fists, jaw trembling as his shoulders slumped defeated.

“Let me help.” Harry offered softly, taking Draco’s hand and pulling him into the cistern, activating the rubes with a brush of magic. 

Draco was placid in his hold, neither fighting or participating, and Harry hated that Draco had been reduced to this.

Finishing the cleansing, Harry dried him off and wrapped him in a set of ritual robes, leading Draco silently to the alter, the runes activating to glow under his feet.

They got roughly five feet from it, when Draco started to resist, trying to pull free from the grip Harry had on his arm. He just tightened his grip, sending out a flow of magic, whispering the incantation and caught Draco before he collapsed.

Manoeuvring the man into his arms, Harry carried him the rest of the way, laying him on the alter, silently tracing the bridge of Draco’s nose with his eyes, wanting to offer promises he wasn’t sure he could keep to the sleeping man.

Instead, he moved to the head of the alter, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and touched the first rune.

***

The silent scratching of a quill was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, Harry figure bent over the parchment as the forgotten book lay on the side table, open but half covered by a book titled, “Bloodlines and the Grey of Blood Magic.”

The open book, with the title hidden was open to the acknowledgment, which read:

“This book was written for the works done by witches and wizards who had dedicated their lives to proving the concept that all spells - no matter the labelling could at their core could be reversed, or nullified.

It is a common misconception that curses, hexes, and jinx have no cure or counter unless specified. This is fundamentally incorrect; otherwise, careers in cursing breaking wouldn’t be possible. 

It is true that Gringotts employ the most successful curse breakers. Those chosen are taught modified magics used by the Dverger, which is likened to being taught magic all over again.

The other anomaly is a fully practicing Parselmouth who uses Parselmagic to see the threads of the spell work. This gift is becoming increasingly rare as the stigma around that ability decreases through fear of the unknown. 

Going through this book, we will cover curses like the infamous trio - the three Unforgivables labelled so in 1560 by the Muggle Queen Elizabeth I as part of the agreement that allowed Wizarding England the right to their Sovereignty. There will be curses like the Famine Curse, Wasting Sickness, and the legendary Asp’s Kiss, and then we will dive into curses and hexes that while seemingly harmless sometimes do the most amount of damage.”

Harry looked up, as a soft sound emerged from the canopied bed, half hidden in the shadows. 

Laying the quill down, Harry spelled his hands clean, and rose gracefully to his feet, crossing the space, wand already out and casting a diagnostic.

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Draco grunted adjusting his head on the pillow, “but the lightest I’ve felt since the war ended.”

Harry smiled weakly, dismissing the spell, sliding his wand into the holster on his wrist. “Do you want to know?”

Silver eyes fluttered shut, as Draco swallowed, “just- is the baby alright?”

Sinking into the chair by the bed, Harry played with the edge of the blanket, “they’re fine, the ritual had no adverse effects, though it was surprising when i realized what I was hearing.” He flushed as Draco’s eyes snapped open, “I cast a modified heartbeat charm, to monitor you while I conducted the ritual. It was a really strange experience hearing three…”

“Twins?” A huff of amusement escaped Draco, and he raised a questioning eyebrow, “as a male you didn’t know I could get pregnant, did you?”

Face flaming, Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chairs and noisily cleared his throat, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Still grinning, Draco shifted on the bed, “I’m a male Veela, which is rare, though my father was somewhat pleased considering it opened up the path for more advantage matches instead of just families with pureblood daughters.”

Grunting at the mention of Lucius, Harry picked up the glass and held it out, “it’s a prenatal supplement, some of your results while in the normal range, dipped to low for me to be comfortable with.” He flashed Draco a look when the other man hesitated, “While I’m not longer terrible at potions, I didn’t brew it. I had my house elf procure it.”

The blond shifted to a semi-reclining position and took the proffered glass, “thanks, as I’m sure you’ve realized from the diagnostics, I haven’t seen a health professional. Theo wouldn’t allow it.”

“I gathered.” Harry returned tightly, “how long have you known?”

“Officially for about two weeks, but I’d been feeling off for about a month, I snuck out and bought a test as I’ve never been able to self-diagnose.” Draco explained after draining the glass, “he wasn’t pleased I found out, and ordered me not to tell anyone.”

“So your mom doesn’t know?” Harry asked softly, accepting the glass. “Let that settle, it has an anti-nausea so hopefully you’ll be able to stomach some food.” Harry said and settled back in his chair.

“No, she didn’t even know about Theo.” The admittance was small, as Draco curled on the bed, facing Harry. “He- I guess it’s easy to see now, but he followed me from England, lured me in by being apologetic for our school years, slipped me an attraction potion and its spiralled from there. I know he used a lust and finally a love position, but I only realized that after finding out I was pregnant because he had to stop administering them.”

Running a hand down his face, Harry fought the urge to growl, “it also shows he started using fertility potions in December.”

“That’s- why though?” Draco asked blood draining from his face.

Harry shifted, averting his gaze, “I have no idea.”

“Well that’s a lie, if I’ve ever seen one,” Draco drawled flatly, “what hypothesis have you come too?”

“He’s not noble.” Harry responded instantly, voice firm, “I assume because your title is in stasis given your father is in Azkaban, that he wants a child of Malfoy blood so he can claim proxy over your family.”

The horror and fear spread across Draco’s face, “and given he’s the other biological father without a war record, they’d let him.”

Harry’s nod was met with a sudden flurry of movement as Draco grabbed desperately at his hand, “you-you can’t let him have my babies, Harry. Please, I know-know I wasn’t the nicest, but please, my baby’s innocent. They don’t deserve two horrible parents.”

“Hey, hey, Draco, calm down.” Harry whispered, letting him clutch at his hand, and when that failed, sent a flood of magic through the contact that was met with a gasp and wide eyes. The shock on Draco’s face was enough for Harry to leave the connection open, and watched as Draco drew on the magic, instantly looking better, the lines of exhaustion and pain clearing, “Okay, listen. Right now, from the research I’ve done, Theo has done nothing in the month or so you’ve been pregnant. He’s provided no magical link to ensure a stable and healthy pregnancy, which is part of the reason you’ve felt so unbelievably weak, the babies are draining your magical reserve.”

A familiar sneer was making its way onto Draco’s face, but Harry pushed, “I’m not going to argue and say you should terminate, so hold your breath.”

A flush climbed Draco’s cheeks, and he swallowed nervously before nodding.

Harry eyed him a minute longer before releasing a breath, “I have an idea and potential solution but I need a little more time to research any magical and legal repercussions,” he held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth, and reached for the tray on the bedside table covered in a stasis charm, “no you should eat first, if not for you, then for the babies.”

Glaring banefully, Draco heaved a sigh but sat up, adjusting the pillows until he could recline comfortably and accepted the tray, “how or should I say why are you allowed to have lethal war wards?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, as he settled back in his chair but didn’t question how Draco knew about the lethality of his wards, “I work for the ICW, and unfortunately while my fame has dissipated here in Rome, it hasn’t fully left, so I was given a special dispensation to have them.”

Draco frowned with the toast half way to his mouth, “that’s not the full truth.”

Harry smirked, and shrugged neither arguing or agreeing, and asked his own question, “this might show more of my ignorance but how was Nott able to trick you if you’re half-Veela?”

The perplexion at the question faded to be replaced with a hint of anger, followed by embarrassment, “a combination of factors. I’ve always known I inherited the Veela gene, but was a late bloomer as it were. I only came into my inheritance after coming to France. I barely had any control, he got me at a weak moment and convinced me using the potions that he was my mate, which I knew was a lie, but I couldn’t fight it. In addition, he has a runic charm, which I didn’t know about until the pregnancy because he rubbed it in my face he was immune to my allure which I attempted to use in a desperate attempt at escape.”

Harry closed his eyes at the information about the runic charm, but had no idea how to share that with Blaise, without telling Draco the whole of it. Making a mental note to figure out alternative ways to inform his partner, Harry opened his eyes to find Draco staring at him intensely. “What?”

Draco’s brow flickered briefly before he sighed, “you’re not like I remember at all, even your magic is different.”

“In what way?” Harry asked curiously.

“You never used to be able to hide your thoughts and emotions before. Nor were you the most studious when it came to schooling.” Draco stated dryly, eyeing the scrolls and books on the desk, waving his fork around, “as for your magic, it’s almost calmer?” It felt like a question but Draco shook his head, indicating it wasn’t really, “before it was like the height of a lightening storm, I could always feel you when you entered a room, now, now it still has that quality but it’s gentler. It’s like instead of a hurricane, it’s just a summer storm - just as additive though.”

Unable to explain the blush that climbed his cheeks at the description of his magic, Harry shifted in the chair, “I-wow.” He laughed embarrassment increasing, “I don’t know how to even respond, thanks I guess.”

“You’re welcome, Potter.” Draco drawled focusing on the bowl filled with oatmeal and berries.

“It’s Harry, or Hadrian if you need to be semi-formal.” Harry replied, and shrugged at Draco’s expression, “legally my last name isn’t Potter anymore, or technically it never was, and I was never able to claim the Potter title.”

The frown increased, and Draco rested the spoon against the rim of the bowl, “but your father….”

“Was James Potter,” Harry confirmed, “and Sirius Black was my third parent, in blood and magic.” He smiled slightly at the shifting of emotions on Draco’s face, “in order to claim one of my titles, it demanded a name change.”

Letting go of the spoon completely, Draco seemed to sit up straighter in the bed, “are you a Black now, did you have to hyphenate?”

Harry winced, “no, not exactly though I do have the Islington title, which is probably why you felt me in the market. Your mother was a Black, so you may feel that connection through there.”

“How do you have the title if you don’t have Black as the last name? Unless your title is older or higher….” Draco gave a dry humorous-less laugh but didn’t argue or deny, as he frowned, “the Potter title wouldn’t count, It’s only an Earl as well, isn’t it?” Draco asked in confusion.

“It is, Exmoor, if you’re curious, and I can’t claim that until I’m twenty five due to the manipulations Dumbledore enacted after my grandfathers death.”

“What did-how did he manage to influence a title claiming?” Draco demanded voice cold.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “he made it impossible for my father to claim the title when his father died, by forcing them into hiding by telling them the prophecy- unfortunately for my parents they died, meaning Dumbledore was able to manipulate my knowledge on what I knew. He invoked a clause that sent it into stasis until I was fifteen, but because I didn’t claim it then, it froze for another ten years, if I don’t claim it on my twenty fifth birthday, it will be left for my son.”

Shaking his head in growing ire, Draco swallowed hard, eyes flashing, “I can’t even articulate how angry that makes me. It’s one thing to refuse a title on your own, but being denied your blood rite is insulting, why did the old cote do it?”

Harry snorted, “if I had the freedom my title would have provided, he wouldn’t have been able to control me.”

Silently fuming Draco glared at the duvet, before shaking his head in exasperation, “I hate admitting I didn’t really pay attention to the news during my house arrest so I’m at a loss as to what your title is.”

Harry laughed, “it never reached the news, my identity is under a privacy seal until I step into the Wizangmots and formally claim my seats or marry, currently I vote in absentism.” He grinned and knew it was joyfully and full of mischief, “it’s great being their greatest obstacle and headache and not knowing whom to blame.”

Harry sat in his chair watching the thoughts cross Draco’s face, before his silver eyes widened in shock, “you’re Warwick?”

Still Grinning, Harry dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Do you know how much grief you’ve caused stalling or blocking laws? The news is ripe with either anger or elation. Half the population has a campaign trying to find out the identity of the wizard who claimed that title- though most of them are only interested in being your Duchess.”

Greeneyes flashed with anger even as Harry shrugged unconcerned, “they shouldn’t have pissed me off at the end of the war.”

“Evidently.” Draco replied dryly, “how did you get away with it? Because I know, Aunt Andromeda sits the Black seats in your name.”

Lifting an eyebrow amusement shone on Harry’s face, as Draco snorted at his own question, “nevermind, it’s your boy wonder facade.”

“I imagine that’s what a lot believe, but it’s actually the Dverger who came up with the arrangements, and solution.” Harry smiled pleasantly wiggling his fingers towards the desk and summoning his mug of coffee, warming it as it landed, ignoring the dilations of Draco’s pupils at the display. “You see I’m in Rome as the official representative for Britain, of which I do my duty. I don’t need to hit them hard on an international level when local politics impacts them and often more harshly because they don’t know any better. England is decidedly backwards and about 100 years behind the times when it comes to most laws, and think they’re more progressive because they cling to a pureblood rhetoric.” Harry winced as Draco flinched, and muttered an apology, making Draco snort in amusement.

“Don’t apologize, Your Grace. If anyone is to have opinions about England I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you.” Draco whispered softly.

“None of that,” Harry replied warily, “I already said it’s Harry or Hadrian, please.”

A flicker of annoyance creased Draco’s face but he picked up his spoon and resumed eating, staring at Harry intently, before suddenly pointing the utensils at Harry, “I think that’s where you went wrong, you should be flaunting your titles.”

Rolling his eyes Harry took a sip of his coffee and shook his head, “sounds utterly boring, I have no interest in ever visiting Britain again.”

Shock different over Draco’s face, eyes lighting with curiosity and questions, none of which he asked as Harry picked up a pad of paper on the bedside table, and a quill, “is there any arrangements, I can make for you?”

“Arrangements?” Draco asked voice trembling, “are you going to send me away?”

“What? No!” Harry question and then denied in the same breath, “as a son of a Black, you have the rite to petition the head for sanctuary - which is something I should have offered after the war, and I apologize that I didn’t, Draco.” Harry took a deep breath, fingering the quill, “I can’t change the things I did, that potentially put you in this position but I meant what I said. I have an idea for the children you carry, but I need to research legalities and magical complications.”

Draco averted his eyes, blinking rapidly, rubbing his left arm, “You provided me a freedom I didn’t expect when you removed the mark, so none of this is your fault, Harry.”

“Technically it’s not yours either, you were basically compelled to react the way you did.” Harry offered hoarsely, fingers flexing on his knees, “there is no shame in what you did, that and the crime belong to Nott.”

“Then I’d like to stay.” Draco whispered, gently pushed the tray away, “and if possible, could my mother visit? I haven’t been able to truly talk to her in three years. He forbid me to tell her anything, and even made me move out of her home.”

Harry frowned silently wondering if Narcissa had been spelled too, because as her lord, she should have shared if Draco was no longer living with her, but nodded, “I’ll arrange a port key for her at the bank, do you want me to send a house-elf to collect your belongings-“

Draco quickly shook his head, “no. None of the stuff there was important or my choice, Theo- he picked all of my clothing and stuff.”

Nodding, Harry made a note on the parchment, “alright, I’ll have a catalogue delivered, and a house elf in to take measurements and you can order a wardrobe- I don’t care about the costs, I know you have access to the Malfoy money, but until we know Nott’s reaction to your disappearance it would be best to not advertise were you are.” 

Draco nodded in agreement, “I understand, just as long as I can get outside to walk around.”

Amused, Harry thought of his gardens and smiled, “That’s not a problem. There are stables, gardens and is a pool you are free to use.” He rose to his feet as a chime sounded throughout the villa, “I put a few articles of clothing in the wardrobe until you decided what you wanted to do. The suite includes a sitting room and private study through that door, which is also the way to the hallway.” He pointed to the door on his right and then turned towards the opposite wall, the fireplace bracketed by two more doors, “The door on the right is the bathroom. It connects to the dressing room, which is the door on the left. My rooms are connected through the dressing room so if you require me at night I’ll be easily found. Your house elf, Jax, is available if you need assistance.”

“Will I see you later?” Draco asked, voice small, and a flush building on his cheeks, showing he hated it.

“I’ll be back for dinner, and if I’m not, I’ll definitely send word.” Harry reassured, summoning the books and scrolls into his waiting hand, twitching as he hesitated before offering a short bow and strolled towards the door, only draco’s voice stopped him as he opened it. “How direct a descendent of the Peverell brothers are you?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder debating how to answer, and blinked at the intensity burning in Draco’s silver eyes. Forcing himself to quirk an eyebrow and adopt a smirk, Harry winked and strolled from the room without answering, he needed to answer his own questions - namely why he was so interested and concerned for Draco and his children, before he could answer Draco’s.

***

Stepping into his study, he dumped the books and scrolls on his desk, warding the door without a word, and knelt in front of the fire, meeting Blaise’s exasperated expression, “why do you have your wards fully active?”

“I have a guest.” Harry replied, and lifted an eyebrow when Blaise opened his mouth, “it’s family related.” 

Blaise’s mouth snapped shut, and he regarded Harry with dark serious eyes before offering, “Theo sent an owl, implying Draco was homesick, and they left early this morning. He was irritated.”

“Did he now?” Harry asked curiously, feeling a dangerous spike in his magic and glanced at his watch, and made to pull from the fire but Blaise stopped him.

“Don’t go doing something stupid, Charon.”

“I don’t plan on doing anything stupid,” Harry retorted with an eyeroll, then tensed when he felt the family magic prod at him, “I gotta go, give Warren my apologies but I won’t be in today.”

Pulling his head free, Harry waited a moment before tossing in more floo powder and called out the address for Narcissa’s chateau in France and waited for a response that was quick to come, as blond hair came into his vision, worry etched on the pale face.

“Harry? Oh, thank Merlin, I just- someone just told me that Draco was missing, and possibly abducted.”

Harry mentally swore, and shifted, tensing as if he could dive through the fireplace and get to Nott now, but refrained and asked softly, “is your visitor still there?”

She shook her head, blond hair swaying down her back, “no, Theo left about twenty minutes ago, saying something about reaching out to authorities and arranging a ransom payment with the bank but I wasn’t sure who to call, it’s not like anyone in England would help.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “you could have called me, I would have done all I could to help you, Narcissa.”

The blond dropped her gaze, “I- I know the two of you didn’t get along in school, and while I know you defended him in the trials, I wasn’t sure if your good will would go that fair as he was never included in the family magic.”

Grimacing, Harry swallowed, “I have no defense for not including him, beyond I didn’t think too. If you’d mentioned it, I would have without question, Cissy.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth, “we can discuss it later, things have happened, and I need you to pack and come to the Villa here in Rome, today if possible. I’ll arrange to have portkey waiting for you at Gringotts, and I would prefer if you flooed. Do not under any circumstances let Theodore Nott know where you’re going.”

“Theo….” She trailed off eyes widen and worry filled her silver eyes, “your grace?”

Harry winced at the formality, knowing Naricssa only did it when she was terrified and trying not to show it, and softened his expression, “your son is safe in my care, I’ll swear it on our blood if necessary.”

The relief that swamped her face, made Harry feeling like an utter ass for not reassuring her immediately even as she shook her head, “really? He’s there?”

“Really, he’s currently resting in his rooms but he’s as safe as I can make him currently.” Harry offered and glanced at his watch, mentally calculating the time difference, “a lot has happened, and it’s better explained in person, so if it’s acceptable, I can have a portkey ready for you in six hours?”

Narcissa hesitated and licked her lips, eyes clouding briefly, “would it be possible to have it arranged sooner? I locked the chateau down, and I know it’s under family wards, but I-i don’t feel safe on my own. I can have the house elf’s pack and sent to Rome, I don’t need to be here to supervise that.”

“I can do that, give me two hours to set it up. Alright?” Harry offered, making a mental note to request additional family rings and keying them to this villa, it felt like a horrendous oversight that it wasn’t something he’d done previously.

Narcissa took a calming breath and nodded, asking timidly, “is my son in danger?”

Harry bite his lip, not really wanting to answer, but not willing to give her a false sense of security either and nodded, “I will do everything in my power to keep him safe, but please, don’t leave the Chateau or the villa without an escort. I have no idea the lengths Nott will go to find him.”

“I promise.” Nacrissa murmured, eyes shadowed, “only floo to the bank and then to you.” She licked her lips, eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry my family keeps imposing on your generosity, your grace.”

Shaking his head sadly, Harry cleared his throat, “it’s my duty, Nacrissa, and the least of what I should do, no apologies are necessary. I’ll let you pack and arrange the portkey.”

Silver eyes lifted to meet his, blond hair dipped to shadow them, a perfect match for Sirius’s catching the breath in his throat, and he pulled from the fire place with a gasp. 

Crouching there for a long moment, Harry stuffed the memories of Sirius’s as deep as they would go, and rose still shaking to his feet and moved to his desk, leaning against it weakly. It was always difficult speaking with Narcissa face to face, the similarities she had with Sirius echoed in her mannerisms, something he suspected was a family trait.

Edging the journal he used to communicate with Ragnok from under the pile of books on his desk, Harry sank into his chair, pulling the self inking quill free and wrote a note for the portkey and Narcissa estimated arrival at the bank in Paris.

Pushing it aside while waiting for a response, he glanced around the office, eyes landing on the dog eared and ancient book on blood magic he’d skimmed earlier and wondered if that was the answer to his questions. While there were stigmas surrounding the usage of blood magic he understood it wasn’t the great evil wizarding kind thought it to be, though would admit it could be used for evil practices. Yet, what draco endured could be classified as just as evil, and it made him question if the two differences matter.

Thumbing the book, he pulled it forward, using magic to turn the pages, as he skimmed the contents, eyes landing on Ritual Birth again, and swallowed hard, turning to the page eyes greedily reading the sentences.

“This spell form has been in disuse for centuries, the lack of magical power to accomplish a successful ritual having grown smaller and smaller. It doesn’t help that often there is a lack of magical bonding in the lead up to the night the spell can be cast, which is on one specific night, known as Samhain, or All Hallows Eve, when the veil between our two worlds is at its thinnest. In truth, the ritual is part spell, and part prayer, as the caster is petitioning family ancestors the right to bring the children not of the casters making into the family.

In addition the growing stigma surrounding the practices of blood magic, which admittedly is a cause for concern as more and more greedy individuals seek power they wouldn’t have access to naturally, makes the usage of this spell form frowned on. The other issue with the spell is the lack of conviction or love felt by the caster, in recent history the ritual failed more often than not - which while not dangerous as other failed rituals, would cause more harm for all involved as the ‘father’ could petition courts for custody of his children and win based on that failure.

Most magicals, if they need a failsafe to protect children, commonly use blood adoption as it is considered a legitimate as it offers an alternative thus creating what is a third parent, that ritual adoption is not as frowned upon, and is becoming more popular in Noble households. Still, the original intention of this spell was created in a time when raids on villages were high, and it was used in order to protect the carrier and the babes that were often the results of such events. The number one tenant of any magical being is supposed to be in the care and love of an innocent, the child created having no choice in its conception. 

It can feel like an extreme step for the end results is unbreakable and irreversible, once casting starts you are unable to change your mind. The design of the spell works, wiping the blood connection of ‘father’ and replacing it with the casters effectively making the caster the child’s biological parent and rendering any rights to the other null. Yet, some people find themselves in a position that the alternative is worse, and countless wars fought in the name of succession having proved the blood running through the veins makes all the difference.”

Handing fisting he shoved the book away, and dropped his head to his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. It still felt like the answer, but was it ethically or morally right to remove the other father, no matter his biases against them. He could offer sanctuary and succor in so many other ways, was he really willing to bind his blood to Draco’s children and claim them as his? He was only 22, 23 when they would be born, was he ready to be a full time parent? Hadn’t he run when Ginny claimed she was pregnant? Why hadn’t he been able to accept the child once it became known it wasn’t biologically his? Would Draco even allow it?

Sighing he glanced at the book, pulling it closer with a tug of magic, skimming the text again, and requirements of the ritual, gut tightening at the sentence, “The other issue with the spell is the lack of conviction or love felt by the caster….”

He loved and wanted children but hadn’t had second thoughts about disavowing Ginny’s, so how could he accept and love Draco’s? Why did he feel so protective over Draco and children that hadn’t even been born? Hell, did he even feel anything for Draco? At least beyond an admittedly worrying fascination with the man. It was easily to admit at least in his head that he wanted Draco, probably always had, sixth year told him that - even if he had been wrong in his obsession, but was that enough to basis their entire future on? Could he live with Draco all the time? 

He froze in his chair, thoughts stumbling to a halt, as he realized the direction of his thoughts. It was a future commitment he was contemplating, one in which they raised the children together but the only way he could legitimately do that was if he married Draco. Which meant, the twins would be his heirs, and Draco his husband… his gut tightened at the thought, his imagination at what that could entail rearing itself as the image of Draco laid on his bed, pale skin glistening in contract to his sheets sending a bolt of lust through him so fast he felt faint. 

It was almost a relief when the journal glowed indicating a response, and Harry quickly shoved the image away for later, and pulled the ledger sliding the mirror from the inner pocket frowning as Ragnok’s face filled the mirror, already speaking without a greeting. “Would you like me to have the family rings fetched from the vaults to offer a failsafe for members of your blood?”

Startled, Harry shifted in his chair leaning against the back rest, “what family rings?”

A furious scowl filled  Ragnok’s face, eyes flicking away as he growled, “it still disturbs and infuriates me how much was kept from you concerning your education and inheritances. An ancestor had rings created that offered protection of blood members, they’re instilled with magical protections and an emergency portkey, which you can set to the bank- as our Patron that is your right, or to which ever ancestral property you choose. Having said all that, to make your life infinitely easier I will arrange it have the rings fetched and recharged, and confirm if more then one destination can be applied, if that is acceptable to you, Hadrian?”

Snorting at Ragnok’s response, remembering the chieftain’s geniune rage upon learning Harry’s circumstances, Harry replied in the affirmative, hesitating briefly before asking, “could you also look into the possibility of a marriage contract with an Heir with a title in stasis? I need to know how that could potentially work.”

Clear gold eyes snapped back to his, even though it took a few minutes for a response and Harry could see the curiosity burning in the chieftains eyes. “as you know the illegal contracts found after your title claiming had been dealt with, the rest with no specific name and only linked by family name where set aside with the notification sent to appropriate parties that you would not be entertaining any proposals should someone offer completed shortly after. If you wish to enter into a new contract, I can send you the details and information used to form contracts based on historical precedent within your family names, just keep in mind because you hold the titles and family magic between the Black and Peverell there will be strict rules and boundaries you must follow. Depending on the title, it is entirely possible you will have to assume proxy of a title held by potential spouse even if that title is in stasis, and even if they never get addressed by it.” There was a heavy pause before he continued, “it is important to remember that children will be a requirement in any contract you sign, either naturally or through blood ritual, you have a duty to your ancestors and magic to carry on your line, if after five years no child is conceived the marriage will dissolve on its own, that is unfortunately the magic of the Black line and not something that can be circumvented.”

Harry’s eyes glanced at the book and felt himself flush, “does a marriage need to be completed before conception?”

“No. As long as the marriage is completed before birth and magic confirms they are yours, the terms of that requirement would be satisfied.” Ragnok responded, attention diverted and the sound of a quill scratching echoed through the mirror, “give me a day to consolidate all the pertinent details regarding requirements for the current titles. Any requirements with Exmoor will not be a concern as the marriage will already be established when you are able to claim that.”

Breathing a sigh of relief at that, Harry chewed the end of his thumb debating how to ask his last concern, flashing at Ragnok’s raised eyebrow, “when looking through requirements it will be necessary to note same sex stipulations and creature status and blood.”

“The name of your potential spouse and creature blood. If they are a peer with an in stasis title, it will be necessary to go over the requirements within their name.” Amusement dances in Ragnok’s eyes as he eyed Harry who squirmed in his seat, muttering in embarrassment. 

“Draconis Abraxas Malfoy, and he’s Veela, sir.”

A wicked grin crossed Ragnok’s face but all he said was a soft, “ah.” And then cleared his throat, “very well, your grace. The information will be sent on shortly, though I would recommend a meeting to go over the details to ensure it is understood before you go through with a marriage.”

Harry glared half-heartedly at Ragnok knowing his face was beet red, “you enjoyed that way to much, Ragnok.”

The chieftain shrugged unconcerned though he grinned, “it has been many years since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing a wizard squirm in embarrassment instead of fear. I quite forgot how much fun it is…”

“I’m sure,” Harry replied and than cleared his throat, fingered the book looking at Ragnok, “I should mention in full disclosure that I’m looking at a blood ritual that could have an impact on any potential contracts.”

Curious Ragnok tilted his head, “oh? I didn’t know Mr.Malfoy had children.”

“He doesn’t, yet. He’s a couple of months pregnant, but is terrified of the other father.” He paused and licked his lips, “he was subjected to potions and loyalty charms at a critical part of his emergence into his heritage and falsely believed the man to be his mate, even knowing otherwise. He’s very hurt by what has been done, but still wants the children, though is concerned what the biological father could do.”

Ragnok raised an eyebrow making Harry shift in his chair, “he didn’t come out and say it, but I assume from what he implied he knows who his mate is.”

“I see. You’re talking about Sanguis Amoris Ligatus (blood bound love).” It wasn’t a question as Ragnok peered at him seriously, “you have the power to pull it off, if that’s the concern, Hadrian.”

Harry flushed and shook his head, not having even questioned the power requirement, he knew he could easily cast it, “no, it’s the moral and ethical questions I’m concerned with.”

Understanding dawned in the Cheiftains eyes, “of which you’re looking at from a purely muggle perspective, this is magical.” Ragnok explained gently, “the original intention of the spell was created to save victims of rape, it was judged harshly by magic when the victim was punished for carrying a babe when it was not a recipitated coupling. Wizards have forgotten that in the ensuing years, basing everything on the status of the highest rank, using money to make those problems disappear, and rendering the rights of witches subjected to an almost serviette roll. It says much of your character and sense of justice that you would look at this as a viable solution, not only would it right the great wrong done to Mr.Malfoy, it would ensure the child be raised in a protective and loving home. Magic would never allow you to harm said child, as it’s promised in the ritual to never no fear of you.”

“Wizards should be bound by the same promise.” Harry muttered bitterly, and shifting to lean forward, “the child would be mine though?”

“Completely. I assume you’re still thinking in terms of DNA and the sperm, but that ritual is so much more than blood. It doesn’t hurt the child or Mr.Malfoy in anyway, but it essentially rewrites the genetic makeup to be yours as if it had been your sperm that created them. It will sound crass, but it is a good thing Mr.Malfoy is in the early stages of his pregnancies, it will ensure you have the time needed to create the magical bond you need to claim the children. As that can take up to six months, to form that connection, though it will be even better if you are the one providing the magical buffer as the child will recognize the magic sustaining, Mr.Malfoy. It is also something he will need and require further into the gestation cycle.” Ragnok explained eyes sparkling with excitement, and approval, “it is a good and just thing you are thinking of offering. Children no matter their conception or circumstances should be cherished, Hadrian. That you’re offering safety and protection to Mr.Malfoy given your differences during school and opposition in the war says more of your character than I expect you to believe, and it will honour your ancestors.”

Inhaling a steadying breath, Harry nodded, “alright, arrange the portkey and the rings, and I’ll wait for the contract information… and Ragnok?” Harry paused waiting for the Dverger to glance at him again, “thanks for your advice, I’ll keep you informed of our decision.”

“As always, the bank and horde is at your disposal, your grace. Enjoy your day.” Ragnok intoned as the mirror went black before returning to its reflective surface, but it also left Harry with too many thoughts running through his head, knowing he wouldn’t be able to decide anything, not without a having a conversation with Draco and knew he wasn’t ready for that because he knew he’d have to confess to a lot more then he wanted.

Dropping his head to the back of the Harry slouched in his admittedly comfortable chair, head lulling towards the grandfather clock grimacing at the time, annoyed that only an a couple of hour had passed since he’d last seen Draco. 

Letting out a frustrated groan, Harry pushed into a sitting position, purposefully setting the book to the side, and rearranged the books and scroll needed for his research into his thesis for spell form theory, and set the time candle - the least intrusive means of an alarm. pushing the tickle of awareness of Draco Malfoy and all that he entailed away he set to work, attention diverted towards the other puzzle in his life, wondering briefly if not for the first time if Riddle had been the least complicated thing he’d ever been up against.

***

“The theoretical idea that seeing the threads or ties of magic is a highly debated subject. Most of the stubborn belief is that magic doesn’t work that way. 

Those who have studied this working theory know differently and know that not only is it possible, it is something that magicals spend years studying, which results in a high skepticism of the subject. If you spent years unravelling one spell - even if the counter becomes accepted - if you only have one exhibit to present to the world, how can you say with certainty that the theory works with every spell?

It could have been a fluke, or in some cases - in another highly debated issue - the counter that was what was created first. The charge, in that case, is often that it was done intentionally, with the creator claiming they did it accidentally as they worked to fix a different hex or curse. 

We mentioned the anomaly of a Parselmouth with the ability to see the threads of magic. Still, we cannot offer details as to how this works, as none who helped create this book have the ability and only have access to verify historical books that contained the information (see index). The other problem with Parselmouth and Parselmagic is that when the caster casts within their language - and make no mistake, it is their language as gifted through wild magic - it is impossible - for what I refer to as a mundane (non-speaker) - to counter. How can you counter what you don’t understand?

That is what we theorize creates the magical thread and the beginning of unravelling such magics. The Dverger is the only being able to match it with their type of magic, though that isn’t foolproof. Mistakes are and have been made, like the enslavement of an entire clan, as explored in the discovery of the Legendary Asp’s Kiss on page 151.

The time candle broke Harry’s concentration, the words blurring briefly as he blinked and glanced around the room, eyes landing on the glowing ledger indicating Ragnok had written a message.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry arranged the books and pulled the ledger closer, skimming the message before calling for Kretcher. The elf popped into the room with a crack of magic, and he took a minute to run an eye over the creature, marvelling once again at the difference between the same individual after just five years of being wrapped in the cocoon of family magic and the creature who had survived off corrupted dark magic for over a decade.

“How are you feeling, Kretcher?” Harry asked, shifting the papers around on his desk before turning his chair to face the house elf.

“Kretcher is feeling good, Master Harry.” The elf’s ear  twitched, and he shivered, “as Kretcher has admitted previously, the inclusion of your magic into the families has done much good for Kretcher’s health.”

Smiling at the admission, Harry tapped the arm of the chair, “As I’m sure you’re aware, we have a guest who will be staying indefinitely.”

The elf nodded seriously, eyes hardening with an expression Harry hadn’t seen since before the run for the Horocuxes. “Kretcher is aware. The Wards alerted all the elves. We knows our duty and will helps protect yours family.”

Not even arguing that it wasn’t necessary knowing he’d loose, Harry continued, “Have the Rose room set up for Narcissa Black’s arrival. She will be coming to stay and visit with her son.”

The house elf nodded, “Easily done, Master Harry. should Kretcher continue having Lacey arrange the menus, or should I pass that duty on to Mistress Cissy?”

“Ask Nacrissa if that is something she wishes to do, it is not something I expect, fair?” Harry replied, drumming his hand on the arm of the chair, “I mentioned arranging measurements and a catologue for Draco, but forgot to ask, is that something that can be done now?”

“Masters Draco already requested it of Jax,” the elf side-eyed him curiously, seeming to hesitate before asking - something Kretcher would never have done of a previous master. “Should Kretcher be preparing other rooms for Master Draco?”

Harry felt a flush climb his neck and burn his ears and he nosily cleared his throat, “why would you ask that?”

The elf eyed him pittingly, “because as master Harry knows, he installed Master Draco in the consorts room.”

Feeling like he was being called into the carpet, Harry resisted squirming in his seat, “Draco is fine in the rooms I gave him. I want him to be comfortable and feel welcomed.”

“Hmmm.” The elf hummed, “and interviews for nanny elf’s?”

“Merlin, Kretcher!” Harry covered his face ignoring th elf’s cackle, “how do you…” he trialed off not sure how to finish the question.

The elf smiled gently even if it was terrifying to be on the receiving end of his smile, “elf magic, master Harry. We cans tell, Lacey has already incorporated healthy and safe foods for the babies, we just need directions in what do for an extended stay.”

Lifting his head he eyed the amused elf, and shook his head and sighed, “Given that you already seem to know the intent of my plans, can you tell me if it’ll work?”

“The ritual you wish to cast?” Kretcher clarified, rocking on his heels, and nodded seriously, “The babies have Black blood in them, being the children of master Draco, and you holds family magic. It seems to Kretcher that the answer would be yes. Medea is enamoured of you. You and your magics brought much to restore the Black family name, doing this for Master Draco would be an honour.”

Harry looked away from the house elf not sure how to respond, even though he got the answers to the question from two different magical species, that said the same thing. “That will be all, Kretcher.”

“Of course, Master Harry, may Kretcher inquire when Mistress Cissy will arrive and should he inform Master Draco?” The elf asked with a short bow.

“Within the hour,” Harry replied, catching sight of a blond head reflecting the sunlight in the garden, “I’ll inform Draco myself.”

The elf popped away, the smile fixed on his face missed by Harry who was enthralled watching Draco move through the garden pausing to bend and inspect a blossom, a sensuality to his movements that hadn’t been there a few days ago.

Rising to his feet, Harry glanced down at his attire, wondering if he should go change into something more formal than jeans and a t-shirt, and even made a move he aborted halfway through and groaned out loud at the movement and train of thought. Why was he trying to impress Draco? It made no sense. There had been nothing Harry had ever done that had impressed the other man the entirety of the time he’d known him, and he knew now that he had offended a much younger Draco by rejecting his handshake and offer of friendship on their second meeting. Which, in his defence, though Draco probably wasn’t aware of, hadn’t been Harry’s fault. The conditioning had already been started, though it had never been proved how Dumbledore had started, given he hadn’t officially met the man face to face until Christmas of his first year.

At that thought, Harry froze, running through his memories of that summer, and realized the only one who could have administered any sort of potion without being suspected was Arbella Figg, his squib neighbour and a woman he had spent two days in the company of at the end of the summer when the Dursely had taken Dudley to Smeltings to drop him off for the start of his school year.

Running a hand roughly over his face, Harry growled trying to understand why he was attempting to justify his actions from years ago, and looked at Draco again. His fingers itching to caress a pale smooth cheek, curious if was as satiny as it appeared, or if his hair was as soft as Harry imagined. He already knew the man smelled divine, the scent of citrus and spice lingering in his senses as he wretched his gaze from the vision frame by the window and the sunlight overhead.

This was ridiculous, and Harry knew it. There had always been a level of fascination with Draco that had escalated to stalker level obsessiveness over Draco in sixth year, his belief that the blond had been up to something proved correct, even if Harry could admit now the other man had no choice.

Yet now, it hadn’t even been a full forty eight hours since Draco had arrived in his house, and he’d only had at best maybe two to three hours with the man fully awake, not counting the six hours Harry unable to sleep had stared at the man peaceful in his bed, of which he had no justification and hoped he never admitted doing, and approximately three hours of separation. And it still felt like the same level of obsessiveness as he fought the urge to check the window to see what Draco was doing, knowing whatever it was, was innocent.

Harry had already admitted he wanted him, there was no point in trying to argue that - even in his own head. even without the allure, the man was gorgeous, yet there was something even more to his looks that drew Harry in. the need to protect, and cherish, wasn’t exactly new, he’d felt something like that during the trials, but with everything else going on he never spent any one and one time with Draco, even returning his wand had been supervised.

Sinking into his chair, Harry buried his head in his shaking hands, that had been before the Dvergers had found the potions and bindings some of which hadn’t been identifiable, though the blocks on his abilities and core hadn’t been the surprise he thought it should have been. the rest - a verifiable cocktail that had only left traces, while the rest like the sexuality suppressants, subliminal suggesting, brashness, tendencies towards laziness or an inability to concentrate renewed.

What had broken his heart, and had caused the break with the Weasley’s had been finding the readministration of the suppressants, loyalty and attraction potions, when speaking to Molly Weasley about the betrayal he’d found out she known and was the administering them now, and suggested he continue the regime claiming it could be dangerous to stop.

Horrified, Harry had left in a fit of rage, and refused to talk to any of them, not knowing who to trust, which hadn’t been helped by Hermione’s stead fast refusal to listen to anything he said, often brushing off his concern and claim it was the stress of the upcoming wedding. Something he hadn’t even known of, and only found out because Ginny claimed to be pregnant with his kid - a heart stopping moment and minor possiblity until he found out how far along she was claiming to be. The four months they’d been separated because while Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts, Harry had not. It had been Luna who had tipped Harry off to Ginny’s friendship with Theoadore Nott, informing Harry, Ginny was frantic because he’d gone missing when news of the pregnancy had come out, vanishing just after the start of Yule. He had no proof on who the real father was, but it hadn’t matter, Harry knew it wasn’t him and used that. In a fit of blind rage he’d blown up his life, and publicly declared the child not his, and the wedding cancelled, citing irrevocable differences then buried himself in his studies - learning all he could of the Islington title and trying to determine exactly what it was he wanted to do. Ragnok had been the one to offer direction, and Kingsley had accepted the solution with open arms - the tension of open warfare between factions brewing because the accusation of line theft was serious. The only thing that had saved the Weasley family was Ginny had never publicly claimed the child she carried was Harry’s leaving it to societies imagination to determine if she had cheated on him and dupped him, or if he had known all alone. It was than that Ragnok had proposed his solution and Kingsley had rejoiced at an easy save, producing paper and arranging The Earl of Islington the official liaison and representative of Britain on the international scale.

It was that whole situation that had led him down the path he was on now, his career in law a means of protection, runic magic to build his own circles, not trusting that another wouldn’t attempt to circumvent his autonomy again, and now the magical thread theory.

Knowing what he knew of horocruxes now, he knew he hadn’t needed to die to have the one in his scar removed, the Dverger could and would have, so in conjunction with that knowledge and Hermione’s subsequent anger directed at him instead of Dumbledore was more than proof that something wasn’t right.

He genuinely believed she had been compromised - her switch in loyalty too instanta too smooth, after the war and in the face of his refusal to fight or deny Rita Skeeters books on Dumbledore’s life. He just couldn’t prove it, though he had theories.

Hermione had been just as incensed at the first book and the secrets revealed within, which had time up with Ron’s disappearance in the year they ran. The problem being her cocktail of suspected drugs had only lapsed, whereas Harry’s had been nullified at his death and had to be readministered.

So knowing all that, what did it all mean? He’d admitted to a fascination and attraction to the other man, which meant what? why would it come across as angstostic and combative did that mean something had always been there, but with the suppressants and cocktail of drugs that was how it was presented to the world? Was it possible it had to do with the Veela?

Harry didn’t know, he didn’t know enough about Veela’s to make that connection but… he lifted his head, looking at the mirror reflecting the view of the garden, breath catching as he saw Draco sitting on a bench, head bent as he petted one of the Kneazles that had moved into the stables, his expression open and delighted at the antics of the kittens as another one vied for his attention.

Rising to his feet, Harry didn’t bother fighting the draw and moved towards the patio doors, and slipped into the garden, following an instinct he couldn’t deny and paused to pick an eternal rose, carefully removing the thorns and encasing it in a shimmering shield of magic.

Feeling all the more ridiculous for it, Harry wiped his hands on his jeans, frowning at the smear of dirt but not wanting to waste the time to change, and shuffled down the walk way, feeling a blush climb his neck as a burst of geniune laughter filled the air.

Harry caught sight of Draco before the other man saw him, breath catching in his throat at the glow encompassing the man, and a sort of ethereal beauty that begged to be touched and protected emitted from the blond sitting on the bench.

It was a somewhat strange and startling realization that something seemed to alert Draco to the fact he wasn’t alone, because his head snapped towards his, his silver eyes meeting his with surprise in their depths only matched by what Harry was feeling. It was also at that moment that Harry understood that whatever he felt was echoed by Draco who opened his mouth and closed it, licking his lips as he rose to his feet fingers fidgeting at his side.

Jerking forward Harry held out the stem, trying not to shift at the surprise that flickered across Draco’s face, that shuddered into his mask of pureblood blankness, though he reached out and accepted the flower.

Hating the expression, Harry couldn’t stop the words that spilled past his lips and demanded, “you feel it too, don’t you?”

Draco flinched and averted his gaze, voice a whisper when he admitted, “I think I’ve always felt something where you’re concerned. It’s why your rejection in first year hurt so much, I wasn’t expecting it, even though I didn’t understand until I was older.”

Harry took a step forward, voice equally soft, “and what did you understand as you got older?”

“The same thing you understand now, if your placement of me in your home is any indication.” Draco’s eyes flickered to the corner suite of the home, then shook his head, blond hair covering his face.

Frustrated at the deflection, Harry reached out, fingers grazing Draco’s chin and nudged it up, meeting his eyes, “why did you deny it was me in the manor? I know you knew it was me, so why deny it?”

A flash of familiar ire flared briefly in Draco’s eyes, lips pulled back in a silent snarl, “of course I knew it was you, you bloody idiot. I’d know you blindfolded and in the dark, but I wouldn’t give up my mate to that thing. You were my only hope of freedom from that nightmare.”

Harry’s breath stuttered at the words, even as Draco paled, and wrenched and turned away back ridged, before his shoulders crumpled in defeat, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You were always the one who could get me to say things I didn’t intend.”

“Draco…” Harry whispered, hands fisted at his side, even though he desperately wanted to touch, “why did you never say anything?”

A heavy sigh escaped the man and he turned eyes glistening, “and when should I have said anything? I don’t believe you were in the right mental condition to believe anything I said, never mind escape the situation.”

Harry blinked rapidly feeling tears threaten at the truth of Draco’s words, his hate and rage at what they’d suffered surfacing in an instant, “I would have wanted too….”

A sad nod look of understanding passed across Draco’s face, and he swallowed hard, “you were potioned too?”

A harsh bitter laugh escaped Harry and he shuddered, “and more, a sexuality suppressant and a veritable cocktail that rendered me a puppet.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I hate what they did to us.”

Draco flinched and shook his head, a nervous energy giving him the illusion he was fighting the instinct to flee, “I want to agree with you, but….” His hand lowered to cover his stomach, and he took a breath, “I know they weren’t created under ideal circumstances nor do I love the father, but I love my babies.”

Wanting to fall to his knees at the heartbreak that spread across Draco’s face at the admission, Harry took another step, hand sliding across Draco’s to cover his still flat stomach, “I would never condemn nor blame you for that, children no matter the creation should be precious and protected. I already said I have a potential solution and it doesn’t involve harm to you or the children you carry.”

A tear that had threatened escaped and slid down Draco’s cheek, “but how can you accept children not your own, it should be driving you crazy knowing someone else touched me.”

A flare of anger shot through Harry, and he had to take a calming breath, before responding, “it is, and I promise Nott will pay, but I also understand and respect you had no choice - just like I had none with my actions in school. Do you really think I like looking back and seeing that Snape’s accusation that I was just as conceited as my father was accurate and true? I hate knowing that fucker touched you as much as I hate how I treated any person not in Gryffindor as lesser, when it means absolutely nothing. I was kept isolated and leashed every year, and then trotted out and tested to see if I had the merit to fulfill what I suspect was a fake prophecy.”

Draco drew back startled, “a prophecy found in the hall of prophecies can’t be faked, Hadrian.”

“Maybe not,” Harry agreed with a grunt of annoyance, “but it was self fulfilling and leaves me questioning who it was meant for.”

“You think Dumbledore?” Frowning Draco tilted his head to look up at him, “Snape killed Dumbledore.”

“Did he?” Harry countered eyes intense, “i agree it certainly looked like that, but I’ve come to know it was an illusion. I was there on the tower that night, it could be argued that if he is dead, I killed him before we even landed, between the Cursed hand and the poison I forced him to drink he was as good as dead anyway.”

The frown increased, but instead of pushing Harry’s hand away, he clasped it and drew him to the bench and sat, “Snape cast the killing curse, Harry. You can’t- no illusion could fake that.”

“I’m not- damn it, Draco. I’m saying that it was planned, Dumbledore was already dying, he had less than a year left, and that night I decreased his life span - by a lot.” Harry finished dryly, rubbed his ring, “Dumbledore did it, in the hope I would never be able to claim my title.”

“What?” Draco demanded, eyes dropping to the signet ring, “Warwick?”

Nodding, Harry averted his eyes, watching the kneazle kittens tumbling under a bush, “he carried the Elder Wand, and planned his death so that it could never be claimed, wanting the myth and legend of the Master of Death to die with the legacy of Dumbledore, a man people believed was the second coming of Merlin. He was insanely jealous of my heritage, and hated it was mine by right and blood, even if he’d managed to reunite the Hallows I could have  challenged that status and would have won. Their alliance and allegiance is to me.”

“I disarmed him though.” Draco breathed dawning understanding creeping across his face.

“You did.” Harry agreed, “and then I disarmed you that night in the manor, thus reuniting the Hallows.” He shrugged at the look on Draco’s face, “I had two of the three hallows in my possession already, even though I didn’t know it, nor had I physically touched the wand, I had already won its allegiance. The inherent magic that names me the Master of Death, knew I was direct descended of two of the brothers,Ignonotis through my father, and Cadmus through my mother.”

With a tilted head, Draco played with the ring on Harry’s head, look of intense concentration on his face, the blood slowly draining from his face, “Cadmus married Opal Slytherin.”

Harry agreed with a nod, “she did, and it’s believed that it was through her line that Slytherin’s ancestral magic passed down, even though it was falsely believed to belong to Riddle.” A bittersweet expression crossed Harry’s face as he explained, “Opal had three children, the youngest daughter’s line that would go on to produce Riddle, the middle one who died as a young woman, and finally my ancestors - the oldest and male, whose family tree fell into squib within four generations, married into the Warren line, before the Evans. Eleven male children were born before my mother, I was the thirteenth generation born at the mid-point of a turning century.” He couldn’t help but snort and add, “my entire existence is fixed around Arithmancy.”

White faced Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, “but that means, you’re-you’re…”

Harry smirked and lifted an eyebrow, “Slytherin’s Heir? Since third year even though I didn’t know.”

“Third year!” Draco squeaked, hand tightening, “what?”

“Sweetheart, I’m flattered but do you honestly believe I could have cast a corporal pateronus, hold off over a hundred dementors with a number of them being destroyed on my own at thirteen without some sort of ancestral help?” Harry asked delighted at the blush that tinged Draco’s cheeks, and than laughed gently as Draco pushed him with a huff of annoyance.

“You’re an ass.”

“Is that better or worse then a git?” Harry asked cheekily, than held up his hands in self defense, “hey I just need to know which way to move the bar.”

“Harry.” Draco shook his head, “are you really his Heir?”

“I am, confirmed by Gringotts and approved of by Hogwarts, though it’s never been publicly revealed. The board is happy to play along, not wanting to reveal the existence of a living Heir, so when it comes time for the board to vote, Hogwarts alerts me, and I either confirm or deny which she passes along for me.” Harry explained, and shrugged at the aghast expression, “you really can’t have expected me to feel any differently, Draco.” Harry complained, “every single adult in our life failed us at different times. I was a puppet throughout my entire time at Hogwarts and not a single adult stepped up and said it was wrong.”

“But what about the students there now?” Draco demanded, “shouldn’t they have the right to a safe and effective education?”

Harry frowned, “they have a cite more education and protection then we ever did. One of the first things I demanded was the Dverger repair the Wards, which were horrid and paper thin. If they’d been built and maintained correctly there is no way Riddle would have breeched them at the final battle.” As Draco opened his mouth to argue, Harry snapped, “for fuck sakes, Draco, Hogwarts sits on the biggest ley lake in the world, it’s an infinite power source, why do you think Riddle wanted it?”

Draco’s mouth snapped shut, eyes widening in shock, making Harry muttered an apology.

A snort of laughter left Draco and he reached up and caressed Harry’s cheek, “just like you, I always could get you to admit or react to things when I wanted your attention on me.”

“Gods you’re horrible.” Harry breathed captivated by the light of amusement in Draco’s silver eyes, and blurted, “I want to kiss you.”

Draco reflectively licked his lips, swaying forward, “You need to be sure, acknowledging a Veela as your mate can’t be reversed, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes flashed at the challenge, and coming up to slim his fingers along the bridge of Draco’s nose, and than trace along his jaw, “have you ever known me to back down when it comes to you?”

“No,” Draco confirmed, reaching up with a trembling hand to match the caress on Harry’s rough cheek, “but you need to be sure, if you regret being tided to me after an acknowledgment, it could kill me.”

“Draco, I have Ragnok compiling marriage contract stipulations between our respective family legacies.” Harry stated bluntly loving the way Draco’s mouth fell open in shock, thumb brushing Draco’s lip, causing a gasp of shock.

“But-but it’s- Harry, you rescued me yesterday! We haven’t talked nor have seen me in five years, you can’t possibly be ready for your life to be exposed just to acknowledge me!” Draco shook his head in disbelief and denial, “you don’t even know me!”

“The same could be said for you, but you want this as much as I do.” Harry argued, tightening his hold as his hand slide around to cup the back of Draco’s neck, “I know what it will mean if I marry, my title becomes public knowledge and it will mean I have to return to England at least once to formally declare myself in the Wizanagmots.”

“You hate politics.” Draco whispered.

“With a passion.” Harry agreed leaning in and inhaling deeply, “which is why as my Consort you’d have my blessing and the right to vote in my name, because that is something I know you’d enjoy.”

Draco choked, “you’d- Harry you hold thirty-five percent of the votes between two names, if you add in Exmoor and Avebury it would jump to forty-five. You’d just give that power to me?”

Harry pulled back with a frown, “of course I would, I trust you.”

“You trust me, a formerly marked Death Eater.”

The dry tone increased the frown on Harry’s face before he shrugged, and offered a grin repeating what he’d said to Blaise a week prior. “I never saw the mark while we were students together in school, so I can neither confirm nor deny you were once marked.”

Draco’s fell open, and his sputtered even as he thumped Harry on the shoulder, “you shouldn’t have reminded me of that idiocy, you lied in the Wizanagmots Harry! Do you not understand how dangerous that was?”

Harry flushed, and ducked his head, “um, so about that….”

Draco tensed, “what about it? You knew and  lied anyway?

“Not exactly.” Harry whispered, pleating his fingers together for a lack of anything else to do, “the sentient being embedded in the chamber spoke to me privately and wanted to know why I was protecting you.” He flushed, ducking his head even more, “I tired in a limited fashion fighting compulsions and stumbling over and over, what our relationship was like but it’s apparent to me now looking back that she knew about the Bond, and even suggested I visit the Book of Souls, but because of the potions i never did.”

“You’re telling me that the sentient being spoke to you and allowed you to lie without repercussion was because she’s a secret romantic?” Draco asked incredulously.

“She thought my honesty and conviction was sweet and honourable, she likened it to Arthur Pendragon and wished more men had the integrity I displayed for a person that should have been perceived as my enemy.” Harry paused and added, “she did threaten to summon the sword for me, but I begged her not too. I don’t want that sort of power.”

“Blessed Merlin, you’re an idiot!” Draco swore, and pulled abruptly from Harry’s hold and started pacing, muttering under his breath.

Feeling a little hurt and confused Harry watched Draco, not sure what he did to set him off, or what to do to calm him down.

Draco finally stopped and turned to face him, eyes blazing, “why would you risk your magic and life to save me, Harry?”

“Because you’re mine to protect,“ Harry responded breathing hard and rising to his feet, “I’d fight and then give up everything I am if that meant it kept you safe. There is no greater honour and no duty higher I could hope to achieve than being your lover and protector, and loved by you in return. That’s why I lied, and I’d do it again and again until time ends.”

The echo of Harry’s declaration was filled with the sound of their heavy breath and interrupted by the ward’s flaring but they ignored it as the snap of the bond flared between them; audible and echoing in the stunned silence. The thread that tied them together was suspended and visible as it wrapped around their wrists, the heat of it travelling up their arms and sinking into their heart causing tears to appear in their eyes.

Numbly Draco stumbled forward, Harry automatically catching him and cradling him close, caressing his face with a reverent hand, “Draco….?”

Draco shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, “you-“ he choked, and shook his head again, the sound of graval crunching behind them ignored as he whispered, “kiss me you utterly ridiculous-“

The words were cut off as Harry complied, sealing their mouths together magic racing across his skin and wrapping around them both as the bond settled.

Without thought, Harry reached out pushing his magic into the twin life forces, making Draco break the kiss with a wide-eyed gasp as the snap of his magical claiming echoed in the garden.

Breathing hard, Harry brushed his lips over Draco’s, repeating in a whisper, “everything I am if that means it keeps you safe, that includes your children, whom I hope you’ll agree will become mine as well.”

Draco frowned in confusion even as tears filled his eyes, and Harry shook his head, brushing his nose over Draco’s, “I have a book, it’ll explain it better than I could. It was my solution for protecting you, and I would have offered it even without this…”

“A book.” Draco repeated flatly.

Nuzzling Draco’s cheek, Harry hummed in agreement, “a book, one specifically from Slytherin’s library if it makes a difference.”

Draco opened his mouth, and Harry smiled against his cheek as the other man pulled back eyeing him suspiciously but interest building.

“You’ll be able to read it, it’s not in Parseltongue,” Harry promised though he added somewhat thoughtfully, “though if you’re interested I could check to see if you’re latent and if you are waken the ability.”

Draco let out a desperate watery laugh, dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder, and Harry felt the tears soak his shirt. Reaching up to thread his fingers through Draco’s hair, Harry tightened his hold cradling him close, only tensing when a throat cleared behind them.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Narcissa standing their slack jawed, tears in her eyes and his army of house elf’s standing arrayed in a circle pride and glee on their faces even as they bowed as one and disappeared with a near silent crack.

Startled both Draco and Narcissa jerked and looked around and then at Harry who had the grace to blush and shrug awkwardly, “they really like my magic.”

Groaning at the statement Draco thumped his head against Harry’s shoulder again, and wiped his eyes before lifting his head to look back at his mother who was staring at them face filled with regret and heartache, “hello mother.”

“Draco, Harry.” Narcissa bobbed curtsy, and swallowed, “I feel like a lot of information was missed in our recent conversation, Hadrian.”

Chuckling nervously, Harry rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah about that, this-“ he waved a hand between him and Draco but didn’t release his hold, “wasn’t- we- it just happened.”

“Articulate as ever, Potter.” Draco drawled waspishly, making Harry groan and roll his eyes.

“If you’re going to reprimand me by my last name, sweetheart, use Peverell. It’s the name requirements for the Warwick title.”

A pour formed on Draco’s face, and he pinched Harry’s side, “if I use potter you’ll know I’m annoyed and serious.”

“Pretty sure I’ll figure it out with the use of my last name.” Harry replied dryly, and then sighed at the smug expression on his mates face.

The crunch of graval drew Harry’s attention as Narcissa walked unsteadily towards a bench and sat down, gazing at them in wonder. “Your soulmates then?”

Nodding hesitantly Harry squeezed Draco’s side when his tensed and added, “and Veela mates, of which you just witnessed the confirmation and blessing of both.”

Draco rubbed at his sternum making Harry inhale deeply at the echo of pressure on his chest, hand reaching up to touch it gently.

“The first week, it’ll be sensitive.” Narcissa offered, fingers brushing her own chest expression bittersweet, “the worst is the separation, it’s agony.”

“I had no idea you were soulbonded.” Harry said, and felt Draco jerk in surprise evidently not knowing either.

“We never told anyone, Abraxas would have used it against us,” Narcissa murmured and brushed a lock of hair before her ear, “it never became a problem until Lucius was enslaved by that monster. He thought he could free himself and only understood he was trapped when Abraxas passed away, because he was already marked.”

“The mark corrupted the soul bond.” Harry said flatly missing the flinch and frowned thoughts turning inward, “an extended separation shouldn’t hurt, it counters the belief of what soulmates are. They’re supposed to be your perfect match, complimenting and enhancing your magic. magic understands that partners have jobs and lives outside their soulmate….” Harry’s frown increased as he rubbed a hand down his face, expression turning pensive, “I think the mark is punishing, Lucius and your feeling the effects of that punishment.”

“But Riddle’s dead.” Narcissa protested, “right?”

Harry glanced up, eyes hard, “very, his punishment is for eternity with no reprieve.”

Draco jerked a look at him, expression thoughtful, yet what ever he wanted to say was lost as Narcissa whispered.

“Can it be fixed? I- I’m going crazy feeling this, it makes me regret the soulbond, and even through both wars it was something I never thought I’d think.”

“I honesty don’t know, Narcissa.” Harry said heartbroken for her.

“But you removed Draco’s-“ she gestured towards her son who had remained silent, but tensed at the bitterness in her tone.

Harry bristled, forcing himself to keep his tone calm, “There was no justification that meant he deserved prison because everything he did was to save you. We both suffered for a lack of a single adult intervention and paid the price in ways none can understand.”

“Harry…” Draco whispered even as Narcissa flinched at the words, a tear sliding down her cheek, but Harry shook his head.

“No, it’s true damn it! Can you honestly stand there and tell me you did what you did for anything then your mother’s safety?”

Draco’s silver eyes flicked to his mother, and he slowly shook his head, “no, I was trapped and the only thing I could pray for was a quick death if my secrets ever became exposed.”

Harry tilted his head and glanced at his soulmate, “who taught you Occulmany?”

A thin smile crossed Draco’s face, “family magic, the Malfoy line are master in that and illusion magic. My first tutor was Armand Malfoy, the first of our line in Britian, and he combined the two disciplines.”

“Huh.” Harry said, and admitted, “it’s nice knowing my lines not the only busybodies that like to interfere in a metaphysical sense.”

Draco perked up, and looked at him from under his lashes, “who?”

Harry snorted, “who hasn’t?“ and than shook his head, “that’s not important right now.”

Shoulders deflating in disappointment Draco nodded, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “You’ll tell me later?”

“Of course.” Harry agreed as he focused on Narcissa. “Forgive me, and I mean no disrespect but how long was Lucius’s prison sentence?”

The blond licked her lips, “they only sentenced him to five years, because while he had done things this time around he wasn’t guilty of murdering or using an unforgivable on anyone.”

“So he’s released this year?” Harry asked with a furrow of his brow.

Sadly Narcissa shook her head, “no, the trials of those he named took time so he didn’t start his sentence term until September of 2000, he has another two years before he’ll be released.”

Harry sighed, “I won’t discount your very real suffering, but Lucius and you both had options and neither of them you took them.”

“But-“ Narcissa started but Harry held up a hand, fixing a stern expression on his face and demanded.

“Did you know Sirius was innocent?”

Shame crept across Narcissa face as she avert her gaze in an action that was an answer, “you left an innocent man to rot in prison for what? You do realize he would have been regent over my titles until I was of age, if he’d had the chance and someone fighting for him.”

“Lucius asked me not to draw undo attention to us.” Narcissa whispered regret swirling in eyes that matches Sirius’s.

“In other words he was a coward.” The words fell like a snap of a whip, and even Harry flinched at his tone, and raised a trembling hand to his mouth, “I-sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Her shoulder’s deflated, and she shook her head in disagreement, “no it wasn’t Hadrian, you have a right to your anger. If Sirius had been free, I imagine things would have been very different.”

Turning away from the vision of something that hurt more then he thought possible, Harry cleared his throat willing his eyes to stop burning, and whispered, “Throwing accusations and wrongs won’t get us anywhere, so let us leave it for now. I won’t promise anything; but I’ll see what I can do though I don’t think I have enough sway to reduce his sentencing.”

Draco pressed into him, not saying anything but offering a silent comfort of support, as Narcissa nodded rapidly, wiping at her eyes, “of course, thank-you, your- Hadrian.”

Unable to offer anything, Harry nodded weakly, an awkward silence filling the garden.

It felt stifling and uncomfortable and it felt like an impasse because Harry wasn’t sure how to break it.