Burning Beloved

Heir training was… an experience.

“The most important part of being an heir is knowing what you are representing. Are you representing a historical lighthouse? A dark one? Does your family have a history of charity? Of theft? Where are their finances in? Property? Investments? Shares? Or just a pile of money? What are their political ties?”

Harry frantically wrote down her every word.

Narcissa nodded to him. "First, we will cover what you have. We’ll sidestep political talk for later on. How many vaults do you have, and what is inside of them - is our first question.”

She pulled out a long list.

“You have fifteen different vaults. Four for Black, seven for Potter, three for Gryffindor, and one for Slytherin.” She pointed to the numbers at the side of each vault.

“Why are there so many?” Harry asked as he looked at the hodgepodge of numbers.

“Good question. Many families like to separate their vaults for different purposes. For example, for all of your heirships, you have an heir trust vault. That’s a vault for educational purposes and basic necessities. For the others, there’s the Lord Vault, Lady Vault, Head of House for some, Investments, Savings… all different types.”

She underlined the letter at the beginning of the numbers. “The letter designates the intended purpose. Do you have any questions?”

Harry shook his head.

“Okay, now these.” She underlined the large string of numbers that were separated by the dash. “Is the total liquid value of your vaults, in galleons.”

Merlin, it was huge. He was so rich.

“This is the combined value of your galleons, sickles, knuts, and any items in your vault. The Black Vaults normally hold a lot of physical wealth, but they also have many artefacts that are nearly priceless. So, while these numbers are large, they can be deceiving.” She tapped the numbers.

“Why is the Slytherin Vault so large? Dumbledore told me they had gambled it away.” It wasn't the most, roughly on par with his Potter vaults, but it was still a significant sum.

Narcissa paused. “I’ve heard it is because the Slytherin line requires the heirs and lords to pass certain tests or limits. If someone were to be magically weak or not fit Salazar Slytherin’s picture of what the Slytherin line should be, they could not access any vaults or property. "While someone of Slytherin blood may be destitute, the vaults may still be full."

“Okay, got it.” It made sense. It also made sense that Narcissa would know it, being a Death Eater and all.

“Moving on.” Narcissa waved. “Each vault contains a family history book. As you are a minor and that is the last of your lines, I was able to retrieve your books for you.”

She set a stack of four books on the table.

"The Potter history is the most important to you. Then there were Gryffindor, Black, and Slytherin." She slid the books to him in order.

“Today, I only ask that you read the first fifty pages of your history. Don’t worry, most of them are half-pages as they depict ancestors or other needed pictures. We will cover more about your history next week.” She spoke softly.

Harry thumbed through the tan and red book. The name Potter was engraved in gold, with Mortem ante Dedecus underneath. Death before dishonour. He couldn’t help but agree with the phrase.

Throughout the day, he passed through the pages. There were a lot of older words in there that he had to search for the meaning of, and even more Latin words he didn’t understand. But he trudged through the book.

His family history was wrought with tragic deaths. Death in childbirth, freak accidents, burning at the stake, everything. But there was light in the darkness, there was giving. Charities, fundraisers, and community help; the Potter family was one of kindness and bravery. To spit in the face of adversity, or die trying.

There were little tidbits that happened where he couldn’t help but be in awe. One had defeated a dragon with nothing but a sword. Another had overturned a group of nobles in defence of creatures. Someone had managed to give away most of their wealth, only to build it up again in investments within the last ten years of his life.

He knew he should be proud of his history. But pride hadn’t bustled under his skin before then.

His day couldn’t have been perfect.

Draco swaggered into the library, seemingly intent on harassing him. He sat on the other side of the table, arms crossed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry shrugged. “Reading my family history.”

“And the other books?” Draco nodded at the dictionaries.

“I’m not the smartest when it comes to old words,” Harry grumbled. “So it’s taking a bit of time.”

“Whatever. Professor Aries asked that I help you with your studies outside of class. So hurry up and finish this.” Draco went back to his books.

“I would if I could find these words easier.” Harry spat.

“You can literally cast a spell, and it will take you to the word.” Draco pointed this out.

“You… can?” Harry’s voice got higher at the end.

“Potter,” Draco sighed loudly, “have you been manually searching through every book this entire time?”

“Well, Hermione has been.” Harry curled in on himself. He felt so dumb.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course that little mud—you know what, I’ll teach you it and you can finish this up. We need to work on potions.”

Harry was about to scream at him. But he really needed this spell.

Harry allowed Draco to teach him it. While Draco went on to read books about meditation, Harry found himself working through his history much faster than before. The last five pages took about the same amount of time as it took him to get through one page before.

“Fine, fine, I’m finished. I’m finished.” Harry raised his hands.

“Finally.” Draco sighed, snapping his book shut. He looked at Harry with an odd contempt he couldn’t quite place.

“Okay, so, potions.” Harry clawed a hand through his hair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Draco scoffed. “Don’t act like it’s torture. I’m not a terrible teacher. I’ve tutored multiple Slytherins.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Draco led the way to his wing. It was decorated more with greens and silvers than the rest of the manor, with a surprising amount of doves on the walls.

They entered through a silver-plated door and into a large room. There were bottles of ingredients lining the walls, and floor-to-ceiling pantries lined the walls. Tables with cauldrons of all different and shapes sat in the middle. Drying herbs covered the ceilings.

It was the perfect potion lab.

“This is my personal potion’s lab.” Draco pushed him inside. “Don’t blow it up.”

“I’ll try.” Harry joked.

Draco gave him a flat expression. “Let’s just get this over with.

Together, they worked their way through a few potions. Draco, the menace he was, demanded he work on multiple different potions at once. He was constantly rushing back and forth to stir, add ingredients, and fix what he messed up on.

It was stress management more than actually learning.

“Your liquid fertilizer is turning red,” Draco called out from the end of the table. “Your burn salve is a little mushy as well.”

“What the fuck do I do then?” Harry yelled, finishing his stirring before hopping to the fertilizer.

“What’s the main thickener agent used in Class 1 potions?” Draco yelled back, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do!” Draco insisted.

“Uh - Um,” Harry scoured his memories. “Mint leaves?”

“Yes!” Draco used his wand to float over a bustle of mint leaves.

“How much do I add?” Harry plucked the leaves and cut them with gusto.

“Add them one by one until you get the right consistency.” Draco handed him more leaves as he chopped.

“Okay, okay.”

Harry sprinkled and furiously stirred his concoction. He was acutely aware that his cure for boils will need to be stirred in fifteen seconds. The mint leaves made the solution harder to stir, harder to mix in, and harder to add more.

“Your fertilizer is an amazing shade of maroon, right now.” Draco sneered at the potion.

“I’m on it!” Harry added one last slice of mint before darting over to the cauldron.

Draco tched. “What’s the problem with this?”

“Uh, um, too many pixy wings.” Harry reached for some lavender. “Need to counteract it with lavender.”

“Good. That is correct.” Draco continued to stride to his other potions. “Your cure for boils has three seconds before you need to stir it.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Harry threw most of the lavender in it and hopped back to his potion.

This continued for another hour.

“Alright, these are done, you are finished.” Draco clapped as the last potion’s timer dinged.

Harry collapsed to the floor, his heart racing. He enjoyed the cool stone floor and placed his forehead on it. It was a minor relief to his headache.

“Maybe we should have gone for 30 minutes…” Draco hummed as he loomed over Harry.

“Y-You t-think.” Harry spat, unable to speak much more than that.

“Come on,” Draco looked at the clock. “We need to get to lunch.”

“Gimme five.” Harry groaned. Draco loomed over him for exactly five minutes. Harry finally hauled himself to his feet and stumbled to lunch.

The array of food was heavenly, and Harry was finally starved enough to indulge in the fanciful food.

Fuck it. He was living there for two summers; he might as well enjoy it.

__________

Narcissa held her head high as she approached Voldemort’s study. He had instructed her to arrive as soon as she had everything. She only hoped it wasn’t too long of a wait.

She knocked firmly.

The door swung open violently. Voldemort’s desk was to the side, his wand poised to strike. Narcissa hid her fear.

“You intrude on my work.” Voldemort stated.

Narcissa hated when he did that. It made her want to scramble to defend herself. Defend herself, make excuses, or do anything other than state your business, and you’d be met with the end of a crucio.

“I have the blood and the medical documents. I have both willingly given blood and had blood forcibly taken.” Narcissa waited outside the door.

“Come in. Sit. You need more instructions.” Voldemort flicked his hand, and a chair appeared in front of his desk.

Narcissa didn’t dare say a word as she entered. She sat in the chair, looking across at the man, who, in one bout of anger, could destroy her entire family. So she was on the highest alert.

“I asked for 10 milliliters of blood.” He said as she slid over the two vials.

“I was able to gather 15 millilitres while I was gathering 10 millilitres. I maximised the amount I could get.” She answered evenly.

Voldemort’s mouth drew thin. “I suppose that is acceptable. I asked for a Gringotts health list.”

“I have retrieved a test from Gringotts. Gringotts has offered to get him to a goblin healer if he meets the requirements.”

She knew it was risky to include information he hadn't requested, but she felt it was necessary to say. If he was that concerned with his health, he could logically want to know his treatment plan, right?

“You submitted the forms, correct?” He unrolled the parchment.

“Yes, I did. Results should be in within 3-5 business days.” Again, risking it.

There was the slightest widening of his red eyes as he glanced down the list. Then, his eyes snapped back to the top. He nodded.

“Be prepared to acquire more blood. I will inform you by next week if I need more. Continue his treatment plan as normal. You are dismissed.” The door flung open behind her.

Narcissa tried not to tremble as she rushed out of the room. Her heart only steadied when she exited the floo. Lucius was there, waiting for her, pacing in the room. His face brightened as he saw her.

“Is everything well? Are you hurt?” He enveloped her in his arms.

“I am fine. He possibly wants more blood. And we can treat him normally.” She sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Lucius sighed. “Thank Circe. Come; you look tired. Let’s have a cup of tea before bed.”

Lucius served her bergamot tea with biscuits. They chatted about Draco and his studies, Harry and his studies, and the current Wizgamont bills coming up for voting. She was finally able to relax when she crawled into bed, knowing that her family would live another day.

__________

Harry stifled a groan as his manners teacher walked into the room. But instead, he politely greeted her. Her face had a small smile on it.

“A little late. I can see the tension in you. But your words and cadence were correct.” She raised her hands. “Stand. Today I will be instructing you on body language.”

Shit, he was the worst.

__________

“What’s the name of the balance to the shrinking charm!” Professor Aries exclaimed as Harry furiously scribbled down notes on his paper.

“Uh, ah, the enlargement charm?” Harry scrambled to flick through his multiple pages of notes.

“That’s the opposite charm. What is the counterbalance?” Professor Aries made another mark on the chalkboard.

"The – the – " He thought. “There is no balance. The shrinking charm either needs to be undone with another charm or it needs to be canceled. The balance between the shrinking charm and the enlargement charm is the normal size of the object.”

Professor Aries smiled. “Correct. Now, we need to test your potion’s knowledge. Hopefully you are just as good.”

He glanced back at the board.

“You have about eight hours of studying to do this week.”

__________

Draco flew high in the sky. The clouds passed over him, leaving drops of dew in their wake. He shivered and dove to the ground. Air rushed over him, and he lifted up as he approached the ground.

Potter could go further down.

He let out a growl.

Potter was occupying his thoughts again.

He tried to shake his thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. The images of him playing Quidditch repeated in his mind.

Of him racing beside him, sweat beading off of his face, and almost crashing into the ground to catch the snitch. Of him in pratice standing on his broom and doing other stupid tricks while Draco watched out of the library window. Of him tearing off his heavy Quidditch robes, only to accidentally pull off his shirt as well.

Draco ruminated on his thoughts in the shower. On Potter-thoughts. He would try brewing next. Then he could maybe get him out of his mind.

It worked for about five minutes.

Potter completely failed at brewing this.

Potter chopped his slugs differently than that.

Potter actually did this one well until he dropped a mint leaf in his potion.

The last one made his mouth sour. Potter hadn’t done anything to him for a week, and Draco wanted to spark his attention. The mint leaf only enraged Potter, and he ended up punching Draco in the courtyard afterwards.

What reaction was he hoping for?

Draco’s thoughts just didn’t work around Potter. It was like his brain went dumb and his mouth ran wild. It often upset Potter and leads to a confrontation. In which he would attempt to yank Draco's hair and Draco would attempt to create a black bruise around Potter's brilliant emerald eyes.

Or to knock out the teeth in that gorgeous, crooked smile.

His potion was a shade off. Not good enough; he’d have to scrap the entire thing.

_________

The smell of flowers met Harry’s nose. Nothing in particular, the gardens were decorated with a variety of flowers. But he was partial to the ones that looked like bells and made the smallest chime when they blew in the wind.

He turned onto his back and looked into the dawning sky. He watched as the brilliant pink sky morphed into oranges and yellows. The chirping of birds met his ears. Harry hummed in peace, enjoying the moment.

“Why are you on the ground, Potter?” Draco’s voice interrupted his peace.

"Rejoicing in the presence of peace. Until you came along.” Harry scowled.

“Tch. You can bask in peace in a chair. Get up.” Draco crossed his arms and glared at him.

“No. Join me.” Harry knew Draco wasn’t going to move, and he just wanted some tranquility.

“I’m not staying on the filthy ground.” He turned his lips up at the mere thought.

“Then summon a towel or something.” Harry waved him off. “Get a little pillow too.”

Draco paused. Harry could hear the familiar Accio charm being used. He turned his head to see a green blanket and a black pillow being put on the ground next to him. Draco laid down parallel to him, folding his arms across his stomach.

There were a few minutes of waiting.

“This is peaceful.” Draco muttered.

“I know.” Harry hummed. “I do this in my spare time before Quidditch practice.”

“You do?” Draco turned to his side, facing him. “Maybe that’s why you’re a competent seeker.”

Harry was about to retort when he felt a stirring in his scar. He groaned and rubbed his temples. Draco frowned as he looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” With a cocked head, he inquired.

“Argh, when Voldemort’s angry, my scar hurts. I haven’t felt this weird tingle before, but I think that means it’s about to hurt.” The tingle only increased in intensity.

Draco shivered. “That sounds terrible.”

“Yeah - “ Harry shut his mouth. It was getting worse.

Draco’s voice rang in his ears. He couldn’t comprehend anything he was saying. Harry stifled a gasp as his vision swam. If anger made it feel like fire, what emotion did blunt-force trauma feel like?

He curled in on himself. Shaking filled his bones. It had never been like this before. A whimper escaped his mouth, and he held his head in his hands. The ringing only became worse. It sent a splitting headache through his skull.

Draco shook him, but Harry couldn’t react. His muscles hardly let him move. Draco drew him into his lap, and he could see that he was yelling. With what little strength he could muster, he clenched at Draco’s shirt. His nails were hurting his palms, and he needed anything else to grab.

Another set of hands grabbed him. Harry couldn’t release his grip on Draco’s shirt. He ground down on his teeth and closed his eyes as hard as he could.

He could feel a wave of spells wash over him. Harry coughed violently, the pain slowly dissipating. But his body was still stiff, unwilling to move in the slightest. The sound of a beating heart slowly filled his ears as the ringing left them.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

His eyes pried open. Narcissa kneeled beside him, still casting spells on him. Harry barely registeredher words.

“Dear? Dear? How are you feeling?” She lightly placed a hand on his shoulders.

Harry groaned, trying to get words out of his mouth. “Feels like hit… bludger.” He slurred.

“Do you want a migrane potion?” Narcissa asked, rubbing her thumb against him.

“Yeah.”

She raised her wand into the air and muttered some words. Meanwhile, Harry leaned into the sound of the heartbeat. Harry hummed. It was calming.

Harry felt a vial being pressed against his lips. He parted them, drinking down the disgusting potion. In minutes, the headache subsided into a dull throb.

“Do you feel better now?” Narcissa dabbed a handkerchief at the side of his mouth, where some potion leaked.

“Yeah.” Harry finally released the shirt from his grasp.

Embarrassment filled him as he realised that he was hanging onto Draco. Draco seemed to notice and yanked him from his lap.

“Draco,” Narcissa admonished him.

Draco didn’t say anything and simply crossed his arms.

Harry groaned and stretched. His bones popped, and his muscles were still strained.

“Are you still hurt? What happened?” Narcissa turned to face him.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, it just hurts a bit more than usual. "It felt like I was shot in the head rather than fired."

“This is a bit more?” Draco exclaimed, looking at him like he was crazy.

“Yeah? It’s why I miss so much class.” Harry shrugged.

Draco looked at him like he was crazy.

“Anyways,” Harry continued, “I’m still cloud-watching.”

He flopped down on the floor and sighed.

It wasn’t the best day, but it could have been worse.

__________

The Gringotts' adventure was another task for the day.

Harry swung his legs back and forth on the chair.

“You have been accepted for the Goblin Medical Services Program. Please sit down.”

Harry finally stopped swinging his legs when Narcissa sent him a look. He, instead, started to bounce his leg up and down.

He didn’t know what the healing program entailed. Would it be rituals? Potions? Something with blood?

“Potter, Harry?” A goblin called out from next to the door.

The goblin escorted them through a maze of white and cream walls. Countless silver doors passed, seemingly indefinitely, until the walls turned soft blue. There, they stopped at one of the first doors.

“Stay in here. Your healer will be in shortly.” The goblin nodded his head toward the room.

Inside was a fairly large room. There was a black circle in the middle of the room and a small red-wood desk with two chairs in front of it. Otherwise, there were diagrams of human anatomy on the walls, along with some tunes he now vaguely knew.

Harry’s leg bounced again when they sat down. Narcissa noticed but didn’t give him any looks. They waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, a goblin dressed in blue waddled into the room. He hopped onto the chair behind the desk and pumped it up until he was a little below eye level.

“I am Hegsworth. You’re here for treatment. I will perform another blood test on you. Where would you like to donate blood? We only need seven drops, then we’ll need to get more later on if applicable.” Hegsworth shuffled around in one of the desk drawers and withdrew a ritual knife, a parchment, and a quill.

“If we need more, arm I guess.” He offered his arm.

“Wise choice.” He muttered, poking through the crook of Harry’s arm without much warning.

He watched as the blood dripped down onto the parchment.

“Put this vial against your cut.” The goblin passed him a vial.

He also plunged the quill into the blood. It moved on it’s own, streaking to the side of the page as the rest of the blood stretched over the parchment and began to write as well.

The parchment stretched on. And on. And on. It was also about a hand's length longer than the other one.

Hegsworth tched. “No, no, that won’t do. Hmm, the stage 4 blood ritual will do nicely. Hmm, I’d recommend about a week’s coma for everything to settle in.” He wrote on a spare piece of parchment as he talked.

“This will be the total cost.” He slid the parchment over to Narcissa.

Narcissa didn’t let Harry look at it before signing off on it.

Hegsworth nodded and snapped his fingers, the parchment disappearing. “Good, await as we gather the ingredients.”

Tension filled Harry. He’d be back for a week. A week! Hadn’t he spent enough time in the hospital? And he’d be asleep for it. Which means he’ll wake up starved.

“It will be okay,” Narcissa patted Harry’s back. “They’re excellent here.”

Harry didn’t reply.

The ritual was short. They surrounded him with some type of sand and splashed his blood every which way. They had him drink a plethora of ill-tasting ingredients that made his stomach twist. Then he laid down.

Almost the moment they started to chant, Harry felt his eyes close and plunged into darkness.