Chapter 21
“Could you tell me to open the door for you, please?” Draco asked awkwardly as they approached the pub.
“Oh hell. I forgot. Are you okay?” Harry asked. He scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t particularly fancy ordering Draco around all the time.
Draco frowned. “I’m sure that’s not how this is supposed to work.” He cracked a smirk. “I’m okay, but Hermione was doing some research. She thinks she can modify our bond so that it doesn’t require this kind of thing, but, until then, she wants us to do it a bit so that it’s at least sated enough that it doesn’t come out during an argument.”
Harry nodded. He still felt uncomfortable, but he really didn’t want to see Draco in pain like he had the other day. “Erm. Open the door for me.”
Draco rolled his eyes but opened the door. He shivered as magic flowed over him. “Eloquent as always,” he cheeked, pulling back the door for Harry to walk through.
“We’re changing the bond tomorrow. I hate this,” Harry muttered as he made his way into the pub, trying his best to look like he deserved doors to be opened for him.
Draco nodded. “Quite alright with me. I like bossing you around, anyway,” he grinned. “Now, tell me to go and get us drinks. The others are in the back room. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Harry smiled. “I’m not sure ordering me to order you around is going to help the bond, Draco. Besides, do you really want to go in alone?”
Draco shrugged. “Not especially, but you need a few minutes alone with them so they can badger you with all the questions they won’t want to ask when I’m there.”
“Fine,” Harry waved a hand. “Go get us drinks then, please.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s awfully good that you’re not actually a king, Potter. You’re not very good at giving orders,” he drawled as he walked over to the bar.
Harry made his way to the back room, from which he could feel magic radiating strongly, and which had the tell-tale deafening wall of a sound-proof privacy ward. He probably should have knocked, and waited for the caster to grant him entry, but the ward barely resisted him as he walked in. He winced when he felt the ward snap.
“Sorry,” he apologised to no one in particular. He re-erected the ward quickly with a wave of his hand (making sure that the ward would grant Draco access), before turning to face everyone.
“Harry,” Seamus roared. “I’m getting married! Sláinte!”
“Congratulations, Seamus,” Harry laughed. “You’ve had a few pints already then?”
Dean rolled his eyes affectionately at his fiancé. “He was a bit nervous about seeing Malfoy,” he admitted, rising to clap Harry on the back. “It’s great to see you, though.”
Harry grinned and returned the gesture. “You too. I promise he’s not that bad.”
“S’not true,” Seamus complained stubbornly. “I’m not nervous to see him.”
“Well, he’s nervous to see you all, too,” Harry admitted, sure Draco would positively murder him if he knew Harry had said that. “I know he was a right dick before, but I genuinely think he’s a good person. He’s trying to be, anyway.”
“Whatever you say, lover boy,” Ron wiggled his eyebrows from across the table. It seemed that he, Hermione, Ginny and George had been there for a while, while Harry and Draco had been talking philosophy.
Harry groaned. “Ssh, he’s just outside. Can you keep nothing to yourself?” he complained, grabbing his friend’s pint and helping himself.
“Hey,” Ron grabbed his glass back.
“Alright, George?” Harry asked awkwardly.
George stood and shook his hand in a manner most uncharacteristic for him. “Sorry about this morning. I’m struggling a bit with my temper at the moment,” he admitted.
Harry pulled him in for a manly imitation of a hug. “I’m sorry too. You weren’t entirely wrong. I do need to get my head out of my arse.”
George grinned and slapped Harry on the backside. “Nah, I like your arsely crown.”
Ron gagged as Harry shrieked. “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea, but it sounded good. Maybe we make pranks that look like crowns but then turn into arseholes if you’re being a dickhead?” he suggested, turning to Ron, launching into a heated conversation about products and target markets and marketable items.
Harry rolled his eyes and quickly kissed Ginny on the cheek, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder as he walked past. “Didn’t Bill want to come?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know we just went on a death-defying mission with him, Harry, but Bill is almost thirty-years-old, has a wife and is trying for a baby. He probably has better things to do than spend his evening drinking with teenagers.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Harry said mildly. He’d almost forgotten that Bill was nearly twice his age. “We should go and see him and Fleur soon,” he commented.
“They’ve invited us to dinner on the 5th,” Ginny supplied. “Fleur wants Draco to come too – says she’s missing speaking French.”
Harry nodded and made his way over to Neville and Luna, who were sitting quietly at the other end of the table. He noticed they were holding hands and smiled slightly.
Neville rose to clasp his hand. “Alright, Harry?”
“Yeah, Nev. It’s good to see you. You too, Luna,” he grinned, kissing the latter on the cheek.
Luna smiled up at him, not moving from her seat. “Sorry for not standing, Harry. This room is absolutely full with nargles, and Dad has a theory that they’re less likely to attack you when you’re seated.”
“Noted,” Harry said, grateful for the excuse to collapse into a seat at the end of the table. “How’ve you both been?”
Luna smiled. “Not too bad. You’ve been busy,” she noted. “Your aura’s changed.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “What happened to it?” he asked cautiously. He had long since learnt that one shouldn’t simply humour Luna, but actually listen to her advice. She was a Ravenclaw, after all.
“It used to be more red. Your head’s nearly blindingly golden, and your left side is a bit darker,” she said.
Harry frowned. Golden was good right? It didn’t sound particularly evil. What did a dark left side mean? “Is that a good thing?”
Luna shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad, necessarily. It looks like your worried or feeling guilty about something, though.”
Harry sighed heavily. “Well, you’re not wrong.” He turned to Neville guiltily. “I’m definitely not meant to tell anyone this, but you should know. We almost got the Lestrange brothers today, but they got away. I’m so sorry. We won’t stop until we find them.”
Neville let out a huff. “It’s alright. You’ll get them eventually,” he said, smiling, but Harry could see a flicker of disappointment.
“I’m really sorry, Nev,” Harry said quietly.
Neville swallowed. “No, Harry, it’s really okay. You got the others, right?”
Harry nodded. Even though he was technically only talking to Neville, he could feel the others listening in. “Goyle was dead when we got there. Avery, Jugson and Crabbe are in custody. We think we know all their safehouses, but not sure that’ll be a great help anymore. Not sure how smart the Lestranges are. They know we know at least one of their safehouses, and presumably they’ve seen the paper, so they’ll know Greyback gave us information. If I were them, I’d not risk going to another safehouse.”
“I think Rabastan’s the brains,” Neville said. “Rodolphus always seemed a bit stupid to me.”
Harry stored that information quietly. “Do you know anything else?”
Neville shook his head. “Sorry.” He paused, and then said quietly. “Do you think, once the Ministry is done with them, I could give their wands to Gran? I think she’d like that.”
“I’ll have a word with Kingsley,” Harry promised. “Is that… like a thing? I didn’t know.”
Neville took a long draw of his pint. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not a common thing, but it’s old tradition for you to take ownership of the wand of a person who has wronged you. I don’t think Gran’d want ownership, but it’s a nice gesture, you know?”
Harry nodded. He supposed he had the wand of the person who wronged him. Well, not really, considering Voldemort never actually had ownership of the Elder Wand, but close enough. He wondered if Tom Riddle’s old wand was still floating around somewhere.
Comfortable silence wrapped up the room, until Ginny cleared her throat. “Harry, want to say a word before a certain blond joins us?”
Harry swallowed. Without realising it, he’d sat at the head of the table. Again. “Erm. Well, he knows everything, so if you want to ask me questions about the past couple of days, you can while he’s here. It’s really weird to say, but I trust him. I don’t expect you guys to, but yeah, if it’s worth anything, I do.”
Everybody nodded solemnly. Harry paused, but then decided to follow Draco’s advice and be honest. “I really don’t know what I’m doing. Malfoy told me to come in here expecting a war council, and, while I think that’s a bit dramatic, I do understand what he meant. We are a council. We advise each other. Well, really, Hermione advises all of us and we just do what she says. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’re a team, you know?” He rubbed a hand over his scar. “People keep asking who we’re fighting against, and I’m not entirely sure. But I know who I’m fighting for.”
“Almost as inspiring as Henry V, Potter,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Everybody swivelled to look at Draco, no doubt with warring expressions of acceptance and distrust. Draco took it in stride, though, quietly coming to Harry’s left and placing two pints on the table. He took a deep breath. “Thank you for inviting me, Heir Longbottom,” he said formally.
Neville rose and reached out a hand for him to shake. “My pleasure, Lord Malfoy.”
Draco looked surprised but shook the offered hand without hesitation. He turned to everybody else. “Despite Longbottom’s generosity, I am not worthy of your forgiveness. I know I’ve already said this all in letters already, but I think it needs to be said out loud. I wasn’t just a right dickhead, Potter. I was a terrorist and a racist. Nothing I will ever do will atone for the sins I committed against you, against Muggles, against the Wizarding World and against humanity,” he said gravely.
Harry was about to interrupt, but Hermione gave him a warning glare.
“I hope you know that I am sorry – so much so that I cannot express in words – and I hope you know that I will spend the rest of my borrowed time on earth to try to make up for my past. But know, also, that I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I do not deserve kindness. I was going to make a Wizard’s Oath, promising as much, but definitions of ‘good’ can be misinterpreted by magic and I don’t want to make an Oath that is wrong. Instead,” he said, turning to an alarmed Harry before bending a knee. “I, Lord Malfoy, solemnly swear that I will spend the rest of my life, which I owe to Lord Potter, working towards the light, and avoiding the dark.”
Harry shuddered as the magic flowed over him. “You dumb shit!” he exclaimed, pulling Draco to his feet. “Haven’t we got enough bonds and vows and debts? The magic will fuck with us, and I don’t want to order you around anymore. Do you not remember what happened the other day?”
Draco shrugged. “A Wizard’s Oath doesn’t have consequences, besides warning you if I actively go against it, and I don’t intend to ever work for the Dark again. It’s fine. Hermione said it wouldn’t interact with the Life Debt.”
“I actually said I didn’t think it would. Doesn’t mean you go and cast another Oath anyway!” Hermione exclaimed, clearly just as exasperated as Harry. She took in Harry’s alarmed face and sighed. “Okay, so I’ve done quite a bit of research, and I’m 99% confident it won’t affect it, but, Draco, that was incredibly irresponsible!”
Harry calmed instantly. If Hermione was pretty sure it’d be okay, it would probably be okay. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He pulled Draco closer and lowered his voice. “The debt needs orders? Fine. No more stupid Oaths, Vows, Pledges or Debts unless you talk to me first,” Harry nearly growled.
Draco smirked as the magic of the Debt settled over the both of them. “Never knew you were so possessive, Potter,” he drawled.
“Shut up,” Harry groaned. He paused. “That wasn’t an order,” he added quickly. He took his seat, indicating Draco take the one to his left, between himself and Neville, and downed his drink in one go. He turned to Hermione. “Draco said you might have an idea about the Debt?”
“Yeah, I think we can modify it so that Draco doesn’t need orders anymore, but…” she trailed off.
Ginny piped up. “Out with it, then, ‘Mione. You heard Harry. We’re a team – no secrets.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but conceded. “The modification I found is very similar to a marriage bond. It’s from ancient Rome meant for masters to marry their indentured slaves, which is incredibly immoral, but, also, means that you might have a transfer of feelings. Definitely not thoughts, but probably feelings. And, you’ll be able to communicate with each other telepathically.”
Harry frowned. “Legilimency?”
“No, you won’t be able to access thoughts you don’t want the other to see, but I just mean it’s a bit more intense than what you’ve already got. Not to mention, it’s ancient and therefore incredibly risky,” Hermione warned.
Harry turned to Draco and looked at him carefully. “Up to you,” he said after a moment.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Next time you propose to someone, I suggest you get down on one knee and locate a ring,” he said sarcastically. “What do you think?” he asked Hermione.
“I’m pretty confident it’ll work,” Hermione said after considering for a moment. “And you won’t actually have a marriage bond. I’m just warning you that it might be more … intimate than you’re used to.”
Draco sighed. “You literally control my life. I’d rather a bit more interdependence, if that’s okay with you,” he said quietly to Harry.
“Merlin’s tits, this is like watching kink negotiation,” Seamus scoffed, ignoring Dean’s elbow as it jabbed into his side. “Right, enough with all that. Let’s get drunk and talk about taking over the world.”