Chapter Text
After Malfoy's closing remark, Harry thought he'd probably have to deal with him coming around Grimmauld Place all the time, or at least firecalling with more invitations to "family" dinners on a weekly basis.
Strangely enough, though, a month passed, and then another without any word from him at all.
That was fine by Harry. He had enough to do without dealing with the git. First and foremost came his job. Harry was determined to get back onto a normal junior Auror track, so he worked hard at being the best damned file clerk the Ministry had ever seen. It paid off, too. After the sundial dedication, they started giving him a few other limited duties. Slowly but surely, he began working his way up from Outer Mongolia.
In his free time he kept track of the other Aurors' ongoing cases. How else could he be sure he'd be up to speed when they finally partnered him with someone? Of course, that didn't take all of his free time. The first time he saw Ron after the wedding debacle had been pretty tense; Ron admitted later that he thought Harry would badmouth Ginny and that Ginny would deserve every word, but he still didn't really want to listen to it.
Harry hadn't badmouthed Ginny, though. What was there to say? Her getting pregnant by Dean and marrying him so quickly after their own aborted wedding was proof enough that it wouldn't have worked out between then. Blaming Malfoy was no excuse. If she'd been taken captive, Harry wouldn't have turned to someone else like that. The fact that she had meant that it was just as well they hadn't gotten married.
Not that Ron or Hermione knew what had really happened. Harry supposed he could have told them, but it was simpler all around just to go with the "Ginny left me at the altar and I was devastated" story that Malfoy had arranged. He didn't want to get into the rest of it, didn't want to have to tell them that he'd been adopted into the Malfoy family against his will. Ron was a good friend, and he'd understand it hadn't been Harry's fault; he'd even respect that Harry had just been trying to protect Ginny. But still, Harry didn't want to talk about it.
Maybe because once he let even his best friends know, they'd be reminders the way Malfoy was now a reminder. Harry just wanted to forget.
Except, part of him didn't. He'd told Malfoy that he did want to see Narcissa again, and the longer the silence from the Malfoys went on, the more he knew that he'd spoken the truth that day in Interview Room Storm. He'd also said that he had to be the one to arrange it, and to Harry's vast surprise, the Malfoys appeared to be taking him at his word. Harry had guarded the Minister at several public functions by then, but Narcissa and Lucius hadn't sought him out. As far as Harry could tell, they hadn't even been in the crowds that would gather -- bigger crowds every time now, since it was becoming common knowledge that if you wanted to see the "Chosen One" in the flesh, all you had to do was show up to one of Kingsley's public appearances.
Kingsley, Harry could tell, was finding that a little exasperating, and Harry could hardly blame him. The wizarding world ought to be interested in the establishment of a new merfolk sanctuary for its own sake. Instead, they obviously showed up at ceremonies like that just to gawk at Harry.
Then again, if that fact got him assigned to normal Auror duties sooner, Harry supposed he could live with it.
Deciding what to do about Narcissa was a tougher nut to crack. More than once, he started to write her a letter, only to crumple up the parchment in dismay when he realized he didn't know what to say. He wanted to see her in some strange longing way he couldn't really put a name to, but he didn't want her at his house. And he didn't want to go back to Malfoy Manor. And he didn't want to answer the questions that would come if they were seen together anywhere else. So what was left?
Harry's musings were interrupted by another huge stack of parchmentwork appearing on the main table in the filing room. It was all he could to not to sigh. Even with charms to do the sorting and heavy lifting, Outer Mongolia was deadly dull. But then, it was supposed to be. That was pretty much the whole point.
This stack, however, had something on top that caught his eye at once: an instruction sheet written out on brilliant pink parchment. He knew most of the departmental colors by then, but not that one. When he got closer and saw the words emblazoned across the top, he almost winced. The stack was from the Department for the Promotion and Support of Wizarding Charitable Institutions and Efforts.
The Department of Worthy Deeds, Malfoy had called them.
It brought back memories Harry tried not to think about, of Malfoy working side by side alongside Muggles, without a sneer in sight. Of drinking something fruity and getting silly with him . . . of the best hangover charm in the world.
Harry swallowed hard, shoved the memories away, and focused on his instructions. Well, at least they explained the size of the stack. Like a lot of departments, the one that encouraged wizards to be philanthropists only sent their files down on an irregular basis. This pile represented six months' worth of records, and they needed to be filed not just by date the way most records were, but also by country as well. Which meant duplicating charms.
A lot of duplicating charms.
Harry sighed and began flicking his wand, but he'd only got three parchments in before he wondered if his own name figured in this stack at all since, after all, he'd been to Burkina Faso with Malfoy. He counted it as unlikely that Malfoy would have mentioned that in any way in whatever documentation he had to submit to the Ministry to keep getting his Portkeys, of course. Still, you never knew what magical details might have wormed their way into the kinds of self-generating reports that lots of Ministry departments kept.
He quickly cast the spell he had to use whenever it was time to look up an obscure detail for someone, though he was careful to restrict his casting only to the newest batch of parchment. "Harry Potter," as he'd found out on his first day as a file clerk, appeared on a ridiculous number of parchments already in the room.
It was a relief when the entire stack briefly glowed white to indicate an "all clear."
Harry never was completely sure was possessed him to cast the spell again. Certainly, he shouldn't have been curious.
"Draco Malfoy," his whispered, casting the rest of the spell silently as he waved his wand in sprirals and tapped the stack a second time.
Several dozen parchments separated themselves from the stack, sliding halfway out but no futher, in case Harry wanted to mark their places when he pulled them completely free.
Harry raised an eyebrow as he began to look through them. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find, really, but some part of him was surprised that Malfoy had kept on with his well drilling projects in the time since his rune soup had blown up in his face. He was still issued a Portkey every week and he'd apparently completed three new wells in Africa, although not all of them were in Burkina Faso. There was also something about working with Doctors without Borders. Harry's eyebrow shot up further at that, since he was dead certain that Malfoy knew next to nothing about Muggle medical care, but then he saw that Malfoy's role was in helping to deliver supplies to villages in remote parts of India so that the doctors who visited sporadically wouldn't run out.
The information gave him a strange feeling. It wasn't that he'd believed himself the center of the universe, since he certainly didn't. But somehow, he hadn't expected Malfoy's life to just . . . go on.
It made him wonder what Narcissa had been doing in the last few months.
It even made him wonder -- just a little -- about Lucius.
That night, after he ate the meal Kreacher set before him, Harry started another letter to the the Malfoys.
This time, he finished it and sent it on its way.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"Very good to see you again," added Mr Malfoy, nodding.
Harry looked left and right but didn't see any trace of Malfoy. Which didn't mean much, since Malfoy wouldn't think twice about Disillusioning himself if he thought it would get him what he wanted. Not that Harry knew what he wanted, really.
"Harry," said Narcissa reprovingly when Harry had finished a series of Auror-level spells designed to ferret out hidden observers. "You don't trust us?"
"I have good reason to assume you can't control what your scion takes it in his head to do," said Harry tightly, still looking around a bit. When he realized he was doing it, he managed to cut it out. "But . . . it seems like he's not here."
"As you requested," returned Lucius, robes fluttering lightly in the breeze brushing against the outer wards protecting the grounds of his ancestral home. Harry had finally proposed that they meet out by the smallest of the five ponds dotting the property. He didn't like it, but it had seemed the best solution. "Shall we sit?"
There hadn't been furniture out here the times that Harry had walked the edge of the wards, trying to think of a way to break the tether. Now, there was a small patio set made of what looked like silver twisted into elaborate shapes. Three chairs surrounded a table with a surface that shimmered like a crystal prism.
Three. Harry wondered who had arranged the seating.
He sank down into a chair, suddenly exhausted, and just stared at the Malfoys. He had absolutely no idea what to say. They weren't his parents, not that he knew much about talking to parents in any case. His nearest point of reference was Molly and Arthur.
Somehow, he didn't think that rubber ducks and knitting spells were going to be much of a topic with these two.
It was Mr Malfoy who broke the ice. His hands were folded in his lap, but his gaze seemed strangely intense when he asked his question. "How is your work situation progressing?"
"I'm still stuck in Outer Mongolia most days."
Narcissa smiled brightly. "You've been given an investigation abroad!"
"It means I'm filing papers. Light duty, remember?"
"Still?" asked Narcissa, her smile dimming.
"Your true value will soon become apparent, I've no doubt," said Mr Malfoy in a bracing tone.
"Yeah. Maybe." Harry cleared his throat and shifted restlessly in his chair. What had made him think that sitting here could help him recapture the feeling he'd had when Narcissa had read him fey stories? "Look-- I-- this isn't working. It was probably a mistake to come--"
"No," said Narcissa, her voice catching. "Don't go, please. We've done exactly as you asked. As far as possible from the house, no chance whatever of Draco intruding--"
"It's not you," said Harry quickly. And it wasn't. "It's me, all right? I can't do this--"
As he rose to his feet, two fat tears welled in Narcissa's eyes and spilled over her lashes.
You made our mother cry, snarled Malfoy in his head.
Harry didn't want to do that, not when Narcissa had been kindness personified from the first instant Malfoy had dragged him here. He sat back down and sighed. "All right, we'll talk. So . . . er . . . they have me filing things all day on most days, and once in a while I go out and guard the Minister, but I don't know how much longer that'll last since it's been causing some crowd control issues. And . . . well, that's about it, really. I go to work and I come home and review case files in case they put me on one soon, but there's no guarantee of that, and I fall into bed and get up the next morning and start it all over again."
"I do hope that your dueling skills are not being allowed to atrophy completely," said Mr Malfoy in an uncomproming tone.
Harry shook his head. "All the junior Aurors have practice duels at least once a week."
The man looked far from satisfied, his hands tightening on one another as he leaned forward slightly. "With one another?"
"Yes, but with our instructors as well."
"Such as they are," he said, disdain lacing each word.
"You do realize you're pretty fixated on this issue?"
Lucius flashed him the kind of smile a crocodile might offer his next meal. "Would you expect any less?"
Harry shrugged. "You made it clear enough that you wanted to see my dueling skills improve. From your perspective it even makes sense. If I die fighting a dark wizard that will be the end of any use I could be to the--" He couldn't possibly say family. "To the Malfoys."
"That is important, certainly, but it is hardly the crux of the matter," corrected Lucius, shaking his head slightly. "Your life is valuable in and of itself, Harry. And too, if I am 'fixated' on your battle readiness, it is because I can think of little else to offer you."
"It's not your fault I'm here," Harry returned, shaking his own head. "You don't have to give me anything to make up for what your son has done."
"You are our son as well, and I do think you have some inkling of how this family regards its members. Our connections and standing in the wizarding world are yours if they can be of use; our wealth and manor are equally at your disposal--"
"Isn't that all up to the scion?" interrupted Harry.
"The scion Malfoy should have explained all this to you," retorted Mr Malfoy. "But then, he should have made your position here clear from the very first and he certainly should have apprised you of the fact that the manor's wards will admit you at any hour of the day or night. I was quite shocked when you felt you had to ask about that."
"Shocked with Draco," added Narcissa gently, as if she believed that Harry might think the criticism was directed at him.
"He and I have had words on the matter, believe me," said Malfoy with a scowl. "He should not have treated his own brother in such a cavalier fashion, no matter your previous difficult relationship."
Harry wasn't sure if that meant Hogwarts or the way Harry had believed Malfoy's nonsense about a slavery spell. "Maybe he knows there's no redeeming himself after the things he said at my wedding," he pointed out.
"True," admitted Malfoy. "But do remember one thing. Though I am no longer the scion Malfoy, I will guarantee that as my son you will not lack for the things I have mentioned."
Harry swallowed. "But that's just it. I've been reading about wizarding adoptions, and I do understand that-- I know they're taken seriously, but--" He sighed, seeing no point in not facing the problem head-on. "How can you really think of me as your son? It would be hard enough with a stranger, but me? Don't you remember the battle in the Hall of Prophecy, how it got you sent to Azkaban? Draco blamed me for that, enough to break my nose over it. Don't you blame me even more?"
"Ah. Well, I did say that you seemed to me a son long estranged, if you recall."
Harry did. "But--"
"We love you dearly," broke in Narcissa, smiling at him in a way that said how true it was. "Both of us, Harry. Truly, we do."
"Yes," said Lucius.
Well, Harry wouldn't have believed anything too soppy coming from him.
"But . . . that's ridiculous," he protested. "If you'd known me my whole life, maybe--"
"That's not how parents love their children," said Narcissa softly. "I loved Draco from the first day I knew I was with child, long before I could possibly claim to know him."
"Well, yeah, 'cause he was really yours!"
"You are really ours," said Lucius, his gaze pinning Harry's. "If you have been studying adoption customs, you will have read that pureblood families regard adoption as absolutely the equivalent of life-long blood ties."
"But--"
Lucius leaned forward further, his hands on his knees just a few inches from Harry's clenched fingers."I know that this is difficult for you, perhaps all the more so because you were not raised all your life in the wizarding world. But tell me one thing, Harry. Do you believe in magic?"
Harry blinked. What a question. "Yes, of course I do."
"When a spell lifts a feather aloft, you believe that it is truly floating? It is not just a trick of the light, or of perception?"
"Yes, it's really floating--"
The man gave a single definite nod. "Magic transforms reality. I know that you believe and understand that. What you fail to realize is that in this case, the magic has made you truly our son, every bit as much as Draco."
Harry remembered that single, simple yes that Lucius had said earlier, and shivered. "All right, fine. But you can't possibly . . . er, you know, love me the way you love Draco--"
Lucius proved then, that he could say the L-word to Harry after all. "We can certainly love you just as much. I would not say we know you nearly as well. But that, as you have said, will take years." He sat back again and looked Harry up and down. "Perhaps longer. I do think that Narcissa and Draco and I are probably not terribly well-equipped to understand a Gryffindor."
"Not to mention a half-blood," Harry couldn't help but gibe.
"Not to mention a half-blood," repeated Lucius, apparently without a single qualm.
"How can you stand having me around?" asked Harry, feeling desperate by then. "My mother was a Muggleborn and you know it! I know that's got to nauseate you--"
Narcissa narrowed her gaze. "The woman who gave up her life so that you could live? You must be mad if you believe that we could resent her now that you are our son!"
"But I ended up defeating Voldemort and wrecking all your grand plans--"
"This may come as a vast shock to you," said Lucius in a biting tone, "but the final year of the war was not exactly paradise on earth for this family. The Dark Lord took my wand. Dare I imagine that you can grasp what that means to a wizard? Our home was invaded by purebloods who could just as easily have passed for ravening animals. Draco lived in terror that if he did not perform as the Dark Lord demanded, he would be given over to the werewolf troops being steadily amassed! Narcissa was required to--"
"No," said Narcissa sharply, turning her face away. "Not that."
Lucius looked shaken at what he had nearly revealed, but regrouped quickly enough. "The point, Potter, is that our lives are better for what you managed to accomplish in that bizarre final duel. Had the Dark Lord won, the family would doubtless be much worse off. I acknowledge that. So do not speak of your victory as though we would resent you for it, for we do not."
"That would make a lot more sense if you hadn't been trying so hard to get your son to identify me that time," muttered Harry. "Didn't you already know all this then?"
"That was sheer panic," admitted Lucius. "Clutching at straws, trying to find a way back into his favour. It was all we could think to do. How could we understand that a stripling half-blooded boy no more than Draco's age could actually prevail? And still, Draco had the good sense to help preserve your life in hopes that there could be an escape for us. Believe me, that did weigh heavily on my mind later when I began to see that I was no longer the Malfoy most fitted for the role of scion."
"So you're actually happy I won?"
"Have I not just said as much?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "You have, I guess. I-- I didn't know you felt that way."
"I hope you will remember it in future." Malfoy grimaced slightly. "The topic is . . . uncomfortable."
"Life's uncomfortable," said Harry. So strange to think that they might have something in common, however small.
"We're sorry that Draco made it so much more so for you," Narcissa put in. "Lying about the adoption spell, of all things! We told him in the strongest possible terms that his Seer powers couldn't possibly have meant him to proceed in such a manner. I was ever so grateful when Lucius finally forced the matter. I feel ashamed that we let it go on as long as we did."
Harry shrugged. "Well, he had you convinced that it was the lesser of two evils. I think you did your best, so don't let that worry you. But . . . I don't think I can be much of a son, and I've got absolutely zero interest in being a brother."
"Just say that you will visit us again," said Narcissa quietly, her blue eyes so soft that Harry felt almost hypnotized. "For we do love you, Harry."
"Yeah," said Harry gruffly. "Er . . . okay. I will. But no Malfoy."
"That is between the two of you," said Lucius. "We will not interfere."
Harry nodded and stood up. "I should be going, then. I'll send you an owl sometime."
"Or simply Apparate in. The wards know perfectly well that you are a most welcome family member."
The word still made him shiver.
Harry just nodded once more, and spun around to Apparate away.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Harry stared at it for a moment before the information slid neatly into a gap in his mind. MLE had finally let him out of Outer Mongolia, but because he still didn't have a partner, they'd assigned him to review information in the cold case files just in case he could figure out something that had escaped the notice of the Auror teams originally assigned to the cases.
Harry hadn't come up with anything, though he'd tried his best, following up lead after lead only to run into the same dead ends already noted in the files. The case that had haunted him the most had been one about a little girl snatched away by magic from her home in the dead of night. She'd apparently vanished from the face of the earth, leaving nothing behind in her pink-painted bedroom except a greyish splotch on the floor, evidence that the magic at play had been dark indeed.
Harry had investigated that case first, maybe because the image of a five-year-old dragged away from a loving family had tugged at him, somewhere deep inside. The abduction had already been two years earlier, though, and the trail was cold. Harry spent months on it, and then had reluctantly moved on to other cases. But if Elinora was alive as this message claimed....
Harry didn't hesitate. The fact that the message was anonymous and untraceable was no bar to progress, not this time. The creamy, thick parchment gave the author away at once. As it was probably meant too, Harry thought grimly. He didn't know what Malfoy thought he was playing at, but he was going to find out that he'd bit off more than he could chew this time.
For Harry wouldn't hesitate to arrest his so-called brother. Not for an instant.
In fact, he'd probably enjoy it more than he should. A lot more.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Now, however, Harry decided to take the Malfoys at their word about wards and adoption spells. Spinning around, the tell-tale parchment clutched in one hand, his wand at the ready in the other, he Apparated himself directly into Draco Malfoy's bedroom.
The result was less than satisfactory. Oh, he arrived all right, and without any wards trying to attack him. But the bedroom was empty despite the lateness of the hour. Harry snarled and cast an Auror-restricted spell so he wouldn't have to search hundreds of rooms by hand. Instead of a jet of blue light tracing its way to its target, however, the spell simply poofed out the end of his wand and fell like a scattering of dust to the lush carpet beneath his feet.
Before he could try again with another spell, Malfoy's voice spoke directly into his ear, just as calm and pleasant as though he hadn't sent a message proving he was a damned kidnapper, or at least in contact with wizards who were. "Harry. Come and join us for a late supper in the small dining room."
Harry snarled again and took the stairs two at a time, his wand drawn as he bounded into the room.
Narcissa looked up from a plate of carved fruit, beaming with pleasure until she took in the look on Harry's face. "Harry?"
He ignored her and levelled his wand at Malfoy. "Where is she?"
Malfoy's brow furled a little as if he didn't know what Harry was on about. Then a little light dawned in his eyes. "Oh, Elinora? Er . . . Portsmouth, I think. Isn't that what I wrote?"
So he wasn't even going to pretend that the cryptic parchment hadn't been from him. Harry filed that away for future reference and gestured for Malfoy to get up and step away from the table. "You'll have to come to the Ministry for questioning. I'd advise you to cooperate and tell us everything you know."
No need to mention an arrest right now. Best to get him behind MLE wards before giving him any reason to panic.
Malfoy set his soup spoon down, but other than that made no concession to Harry's demands. He didn't look worried, though. It was more as though he found Harry's remarks almost incomprehensible. "Questioning about what?"
"Elinora!"
"She means something to you?"
"Don't play stupid, Malfoy!"
"Who is Elinora?" asked Lucius Malfoy, speaking for the first time since Harry had entered the room. Unlike Draco, he had risen to his feet. Also unlike Draco, he was glowering. But not at the man who had come to bring his son in for questioning. "Draco! Have you been interfering in Harry's social life again?"
"You're seeing someone?" asked Narcissa in a lilting voice. "How simply wonderful--"
"Elinora is a seven-year old child!" bellowed Harry to shut them all up. "And your damned son knows something about her kidnapping! That she's in Portsmouth, for a start. Where in Portsmouth, Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked stricken. "I've no idea." His throat bobbed a little as he swallowed. "I'm so sorry I didn't send the information sooner, Harry. I didn't know what it was about. I've been seeing that name in the runes for weeks now . . . I went into a bit of trance late this afternoon and had a vision about owling you. I wasn't even sure it was the rune message I was supposed to send, but it seemed the surest way of keeping the Path ahead open--"
"You saw a message in the runes," said Harry in a tone of total disbelief. "And you owled it to me because your dreams said to. Right, Malfoy."
"Does it strike you as more likely that I'd be involved with kidnapping a little girl, Harry? Or that I'd be brainless enough to send evidence about the crime to the one Auror with the most reason to hate me?"
Put like that, it didn't make a lot of sense, no. It didn't even add up that Malfoy would be kidnapping children at all, not when Harry knew for a fact that the man was dedicated these days to using his money and influence to do good things for people in the developing world.
"Why don't you sit down, Harry?" asked Narcissa gently. When Harry did, she reached out to pat one of his hands, her touch soft and motherly. "I'm sure that you and Draco can work this out. Lucius and I will be in the chess room if you need us for anything."
Ha, so much for them not interfering in his relationship with Draco. Though Harry wasn't so sure he'd term it a relationship, really.
Lucius leaned down, glaring into Malfoy's eyes. "Merlin help you if keeping the Path open this time has caused Harry to regard our name with even more dishonour," he said in a harsh whisper before striding out, his robes billowing majestically behind him.
"You knew I was upstairs," Harry accused the moment they were alone. "You must have known that your message would bring me running. How did you know I was interested in Elinora Eagletalon's disappearance?"
"I knew you were upstairs because I'm the scion Malfoy," said Malfoy, shaking his head slightly. "I'm instantly informed whenever anyone in the family arrives. How else could I know to welcome them?"
Harry scowled. "Why an untraceable owl, then, if you didn't know you were sending me something dodgy?"
"Because I wanted you to receive the message, and after our last exchange, I didn't think it wise to contact you at work. But I had no idea if you'd taken steps to exclude my owls from Grimmauld Place, so . . ." Malfoy lifted his shoulders slightly.
"All right, fine," said Harry, sighing. "I guess I don't really think you're mixed up in a kidnapping. Though I'm still having trouble believing that your soup can foretell the future. Or open the Path, or whatever."
Malfoy took a moment to consider that, his head tilted a little to one side. "That time when it reared up and drenched me," he said after a moment. "It had been telling me for some time to let you go. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't imagine how you would ever to learn to trust me if you weren't here to get to know me. I thought that releasing the tether would close off the Path completely, so I kept telling myself that I must be misreading things. You saw what happened then. The runes decided to get my attention."
"By getting in your face, you mean?"
Malfoy ignored Harry's sniping tone. "Isn't that proof that there's at least something to my Seer powers?"
"You could have cast a spell on your soup."
"So I could pretend it was telling me to let you go? I didn't want you to leave us!"
Yeah, not too likely -- it was hard to believe that Malfoy would want to cover himself in a gloppy mess, even if he hadn't minded getting dripping wet in Africa. And anyway, if Malfoy wasn't in touch with the kidnappers, how would even know that the name "Elinora" would be significant to Harry?
"Tell me everything you know," sighed Harry. "Whatever your soup and your dreams and your crystal ball had to say."
"Crystal ball," scoffed Malfoy. "Please."
Harry just gave him a tired look.
"It started quite some time ago with just her name spelling itself out in the soup," Malfoy began, folding his hands together. "Then the rune for water began to be coupled with it. I didn't know who she was or what it might mean, but that's not unusual. It can take time for a pathway to really make itself clear."
"And then?" Harry dug in a jeans pocket for the notebook he'd been using to record clues, but in his rush to come and arrest Malfoy, he'd left it on the kitchen table. Damn. "Er, have you got some parchment I can borrow?"
"The manor knows you're welcome to anything like that."
"Well maybe I don't want to presume!" snapped Harry. "I never wanted to make myself at home here, you know!"
"You can't possibly presume," said Malfoy scornfully. "You've a perfect right to odds and ends, even to full maintenance if you desire it. It's not as though you're some kind of distant cousin, Harry. Did you miss the part where I was saying that we want you here?"
Harry didn't want to argue about it. Elinora mattered more. "Accio parchment," he said, flicking his wand just before he dug a ball-point pen out of another pocket. When he started to write with it, Malfoy gave it a dubious look but didn't comment.
Harry did his best to adopt a fully professional manner after that.
"When did the messages start?"
"Accio latest Seer journals." Three leather-bound diaries came sailing in a moment later. Malfoy flipped through the first one quickly, shoved it to the side, and flipped through the second one more slowly. "Ah, here we are. The third of March, apparently."
"You're going to tell me the date and content of every message."
"No need to growl. I'm perfectly happy to help you. In fact--"
Malfoy shoved the journals across the table and then got up to sit beside Harry so he could point out the Elinora entries, which consisted of a lot of information, most of it irrelevant. In addition to sketching runes and recording exact messages he'd been able to decipher, Malfoy had also jotted down his guesses about what it all meant and how it might affect the Path and on and on. Most of it looked like absolute rubbish to Harry, but if it helped him find Elinora, he supposed he'd have to give some credence to Malfoy's view of himself as a Seer. Unless this was all some kind of trick . . .
But how could it be? It wasn't as though the general public knew that Harry had been looking over an old case belonging to other Aurors entirely. And Harry's house was warded against his entry, so Malfoy couldn't have seen the files for himself . . . actually, Harry supposed that Kreacher could have blabbed something, but that still wouldn't explain how Draco could have come up with Elinora's current location, assuming that he had.
If Harry managed to locate Elinora based on Malfoy's new evidence, however . . .
That would mean one of two things. Either Malfoy really did have Seer powers, or if he'd kidnapped a little girl more than a year before he'd developed his bizarre obsession with Harry's wedding plans. But even then, how could he have known that Harry would end up looking over that particular case?
In any case, a quick spell confirmed for Harry that all the journal entries had been written on the dates claimed.
"You suspect I don't keep accuate track of the moon cycles?"
"Standard procedure," lied Harry. "Anything else you can tell me?"
"I don't know what else might be significant. I told you that Seeing the future was murky more often than not."
"Right, then I'll need to take these along with me," announced Harry, scooping up the two journals that contained references to Elinora as he stood up.
Malfoy leapt to his feet. "Why were you taking notes, then?"
"Helps to fix things in my memory."
"Those are originals! I don't even have any copies--"
"As of right now, they're also evidence," snapped Harry. "I'll return them when they're no longer needed."
"But-- but you might lose them or damage them or--"
"Wand's in the other hand now, isn't it?" jeered Harry. "Not finding it so easy to trust, are you?"
Malfoy's face lost what colour it normally had. "No," he said quietly, the words sounding like they were being dragged out of him. "I'm not. I-- I see what you mean."
"Ha. Say that after I wreck your wedding."
"But you know now that she wasn't right for you!"
"Yeah, and what of it? 'Cause I also know that if you had any intention of ever really being my brother, you'd have handled things better than that!" With that, Harry stepped away from the table and prepared to spin in place.
"You've never made a mistake, Harry?" asked Malfoy as he grabbed hold of Harry's arm to stop him from leaving. "A terrible, horrible mistake when you were just trying to accomplish something good?"
Sirius, thought Harry with a familiar rush of shame so intense it still twisted his intestines, even all these years later. Even after seeing the man's spectre in the Forest. Even knowing that he was at peace.
"It's not the same," snarled Harry, throwing Malfoy's hand from him so violently that the other man was propelled bodily away.
As he spun about to Apparate, he knew he was right. What he'd done to Sirius, and what Malfoy had done to him . . . they weren't the same thing at all.
For all that though . . . they also weren't completely different.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Malfoy had made some stunningly stupid observations about that bit, in Harry's view. He'd speculated that perhaps this Elinora was pregnant and nearing the time when her waters would break. Then he'd wondered if the rune for water might refer to a thirst for knowledge, in which case her travels along the coast might be some sort of quest for "the wisdom of the seas."
The claptrap only got worse as Harry kept reading, but of course, Malfoy hadn't known that Elinora was only seven years old. It went to show, he supposed, some of the limits of his Seer powers. Assuming they existed at all, of course.
After Harry had been through the Elinora entries three times, the bloody obvious began to dawn on him. The rune for water only appeared when towns along the seaside were mentioned, but why would it be needed at all in that case? The city names alone would make it clear that she had to be near water!
So what if the city name was really secondary? What if the real message was that Elinora was actually out on the water, on some sort of boat? In that case "Portsmouth" might just mean that it was the nearest approximation to her true location!
Still . . . Elinora's alive and living in Portsmouth, Malfoy's message had read.
Had the runes said exactly that? Literally? Reading Malfoy's journals, it seemed like maybe they hadn't. Harry looked up the latest entry, the one that had led to the owled message, and stared at it with his forehead furrowed.
Yeah, just as he'd thought. Malfoy had extrapolated a proper English sentence from three elements he felt magic had provided. The rune for water, the rune for life, and a jumble of letters he'd unscrambled to make Portsmouth. It might not mean that she was literally living in the city, but just that she was alive on the waters near there.
Harry grabbed a jumper and Apparated southwest from London to the Auror's secure toilet in the Portsmouth train station, tucking his wand away before he ventured out. He didn't have a plan, but he wasn't sure he could form one anyway on the basis of such scant clues. All he knew was that if his instincts were right, then Elinora was probably on board a boat somewhere near this part of the coast.
Harry scratched his head as he walked along the waterfront, thinking. One odd thing about the Elinora Eagletalon case had been her parents' insistence that their daughter was a walking case of accidental magic. She was just brimming over with it, constantly causing windows to crack and the like. MLE had originally thought her case would be quite simple to solve as a result. They'd just modified the Trace on her to detect even small outbursts like that, and waited.
And waited.
Her mother had been hysterical within a week, wailing that it could only mean one thing: Elinora had been killed. It didn't take a lot of reading between the lines to realise that the Aurors on the case had probably been influenced by that idea. Harry wasn't convinced, though. Shock could do strange things to a child's magic, after all, and anyway, she might have been put under a strong compulsion, or--
"Harry," said a voice he recognised, directly in his ear. "I have more information. May I join you?"
Harry almost growled, and not just because he'd lost his train of thought. He also didn't like the idea that Malfoy could speak to him like that. It had to be a scion power, something to do with magic recognising Harry as a Malfoy, since he'd certainly never heard of a spell that could accomplish as much.
"Yeah," he shot back, not really caring if he looked strange talking to himself. It was past two in the morning by then, anyway. Not too many people about.
At least Malfoy was a little circumspect about Apparating into a Muggle area. Harry didn't know where he'd appeared, exactly, but a moment later he saw the other man walking down a narrow side street toward him. Harry turned and closed the distance. His annoyance over the scion spell could wait. For now . . ."What new information?"
Malfoy drew him a little deeper into the shadows, which was probably a good idea even though almost nobody was about at this hour. "Fortune's fool," he said.
"You are," snapped Harry. "So?"
Even in the dim light being cast by the nearest streetlamp, Harry could see that Malfoy was rolling his eyes.
"I don't know what it means. I just know that it came in answer to a query I cast about Elinora."
"What did you ask?"
Malfoy sighed slightly. "I can't ask, not the way you mean. I can only reach out with my Seer powers and trust them to find whatever information matters most."
"So for all we know, that could be her favorite book!" Harry narrowed his eyes. "It might not have anything to do with her at all!"
"Not when I cast the query about her. Unless you still doubt my Seer powers?"
"I don't have much reason to do anything but doubt them."
Malfoy raised a single eyebrow. "Really. Then why are you wandering about Portsmouth at this time of night?"
"I don't mind making a fool of myself on the remote chance it could help a little girl. If it means she can be safe at home again, then I damned well hope you know what you're talking about," retorted Harry. "Is that all you have to tell me? Two words?"
When Malfoy nodded, Harry blew out a breath. "Go home, then."
"I could help you--"
"Just go home and see if you can figure out anything else, Malfoy."
Harry turned his back and walked away. A moment later her heard the distinct pop of Apparition.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Could it be the name of a hotel or something? Somewhere she was being held captive? It could even be a house, since plenty of them had fancy names. Harry didn't think he'd heard of any houses named something quite so strange, though.
As he continued to walk and think, his Auror-trained senses were taking in information from all around. The slight tang of salt in the air. The lapping noise of the waves. The shine of lights, far out in the water--
Harry abruptly stopped walking, his thoughts racing. Of course, of course. Boats had names, didn't they? Fortune's Fool didn't even stand out, not in that context.
So maybe Elinora really was on board a boat, just as he'd speculated! One that had been moving along the coast . . .
Of course, that theory didn't explain those early entries, when she was apparently inland, but Harry supposed the boat could have been in storage somewhere. Which meant . . . probably a smallish boat, nothing like the huge ships he could see in the historic dockyard ahead.
Harry had two choices then. He could follow up this line of thought by doing a "proper" investigation to track down the Fortune's Fool using wizarding or Muggle archives, whichever were most helpful. Or he could take the wand by the grip -- literally -- and try to find Elinora tonight. Right now.
After all, if he followed procedure and reported his findings to MLE and waited to see if the Ministry wanted an Auror team re-assigned to the case, there was no guarantee that Elinora would still be aboard a boat.
Assuming she was on board at all.
Only one way to find out. Harry stepped into the shadows, Disillusioned himself for good measure, and thinking fiercely of a boat named the "Fortune's Fool," spun around on his heel to Apparate.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"Ach!" Harry heard another loud crashing noise as somebody tripped. "Eh? What's this, then?"
"Lumos!" shouted Harry, loud as he could as he stepped into the doorway, still trying to use his advantage of surprise.
What he saw within tugged at his heartstrings a little, though he knew that as an Auror it probably shouldn't. A man lay on his side on the hard wooden floor. At first glance, he looked more than a bit like a much older, much smaller Hagrid. He had a huge mass of bushy hair and beard, most of it greying, and through the ropes cutting tightly into him, Harry could see that he was wearing a stained flannel nightshirt. He looked up at Harry, blinking owlishly, looking more confused than fiendish.
Harry had a job to do, though, so he hardened his heart against the impulse to loosen the ropes straight away. "Where is she?" he shouted, deliberately taking up a threatening stance. "Where is Elinora Eagletalon?"
The man just blinked up at him some more, his eyes almost blank with incomprehension.
All right, Plan B. Harry knelt down next to the man and gentled his tone. "A little girl," he explained, gesturing with his hand. "About this tall when she first vanished from King's Lynn. Chestnut hair, brown eyes. You've seen her, haven't you?"
The man shook his head, then blinked some more. "A wee lassie, is she?"
"That's right," said Harry encouragingly, trying to say his words with a little bit of McGonagall's Scottish accent. It came out sounding more like a twang. "A wee lassie. She misses her mum and da. I canna find her, but you can help me, eh?"
"No lassies aboard, lad," said the man. "Wish I could help ye."
He wriggled ineffectually at his bonds.
Harry tried a few Auror interrogation tricks, and even some spells. Short of Veritaserum, though, he couldn't be certain that the man was telling the truth. Or at least, the truth as he knew it. By then, Harry was beginning to suspect that the man was less than sane. For one, he hadn't once objected to being trussed like a turkey. And then there was the way he kept veering the conversation in strange directions, like he couldn't concentrate for more than a few moments at a time.
Harry ended up Stupefying him so he could search the ship from bow to stern without interference.
Elinora wasn't aboard. That much was obvious within five minutes. She wasn't anywhere in sight, she didn't come when called, and when Harry executed a slightly complicated ritual designed to point him to every human heartbeat within a thirty-foot radius, he could detect only himself and the old man.
Harry was within an inch of releasing the old man and heading to Wiltshire to throttle Malfoy. What had he done, somehow found out that a boat by this name was within sight of Portsmouth?
But that, Harry knew, wouldn't explain how he'd known Elinora's name to begin with.
By then, Harry had searched the entire boat thoroughly except for the outside of the hull. Leave no stone unturned, his old Auror trainer said inside his head. Sighing, he leaned out over the railing to complete his search, his wand casting his strongest Lumos across the reddish-brown wood. It was hard slogging; seawater kept crashing against the hull to spray upwards into his face.
She wasn't clinging to the hull, though. Of course not.
In fact, there'd been nothing to see down there but a peculiar figurehead painted a dusty grey colour that looked a bit like stone. A figurehead not of a woman or a mermaid as was most traditional, but of a little girl . . .
Harry swallowed and leaned back out again, closer this time, and studied the figure. There was no doubt that it was made of wood. Roughly carved wood, at that. But now that he looked at it closely, the shade of grey was just the same as the one he'd seen in photographs of Elinora Eagletalon's bedroom floor. The splotch that had been all that was left behind when she was snatched had been this same colour.
Harry felt sick. Had she been here all this time, mounted to the front of a boat, unable to cry out for help, her magic just as stifled as her voice? Was she conscious and aware of the waves drenching her time and again as the boat swayed on the sea? Was she even alive?
She had to be, he told himself. Malfoy had seen the rune for life, over and over.
In his rush to assure himself that Elinora would be all right, Harry didn't even realise that he had finally, irrevocably admitted to himself that Draco Malfoy was indeed a Seer . . . and not a fledgling one, either.
Harry spent a few minutes transfiguring himself a raft of sorts and lashing it to the hull just below the figurehead. Then he carefully lowered himself down and stood, arms stretched out to catch her as he whispered the seven simple syllables that could have set her free at any time during the past two years.
"Finite Incantatem."
As he'd suspected, the confused old man in the cabin hadn't cast any magic to prevent an easy reversal. A small child popped into existence and fell tumbling into Harry's arms. For a mooment that seemed to stretch out forever, she didn't make a single move. She wasn't even breathing.
Then her eyelids opened as though yanked apart by invisible strings, and she stared upwards, looking just as befuddled as the old man had been.
Thank God, thought Harry, smiling down at her. She hasn't been conscious all this time. She doesn't remember. All she knows is that she's woken up in a strange place, with a strange man--
Harry acted quickly then, before she could become aware enough to start screaming. "It's all right, Elinora," he said, smoothing a hand down over her sodden hair as he kept his balance on the raft. "You've had a little mishap, but everything is fine now. I'm going to take you home now, to your mum and dad in King's Lynn."
It turned out to be the perfect thing to say to calm whatever budding fears might have otherwise grown. "Another mishap," Elinora said, sheepishly tucking her face against his arm. "I s'pose you know 'm always having 'em. 'Dental magic, Mummy calls it..."
"'Dental magic, that's exactly right," said Harry with a low laugh. "Will you be all right if I take you home by Side-Along? Have you done that before? Oh . . . my name's Harry Potter and I'm an Auror."
She didn't seem to hear anything past his name. Untucking her face from his sleeve, she gazed up at him with perfect trust. "My mummy lights a candle for you. Every week. 'Cause you did something very very 'portant, she always says. But then she says it's a story for when I'm bigger."
For once, having his name smooth his way didn't annoy Harry in the least.
"She's right," he said solemnly hugging her a little closer. "It's a story for when you're older. Can I Side-Along you, now? Or should I find another way to take you home?"
Her face scrunched up a little. "Mummy's prob'ly worried. Daddy too. I don't have to look, do I?"
"No," said Harry, legs flexing against the unstable raft as he adjusted her position against him. "Ready? Here we go!"
Spinning in place wasn't easy, not with the waves trying to toss him off the raft at the last second. Harry, though, didn't even notice. His mind was too filled with images of a caring mother reaching out to hold her child for the first time in two long years.
oOoOoOoOoOo
It was enough to make Harry wish he hadn't invited Malfoy over to Grimmauld Place. But it seemed the best alternative, in the circumstances. They did need to talk, and while Harry hadn't minded entering Malfoy Manor of his own free will when he'd expected to arrest the other man, he didn't want to go there to see Malfoy. It would be too much like admitting that he was a member of their family now.
The times he'd visited with Narcissa and Lucius out in the farthest reaches of the gardens... that was different somehow.
And sitting and talking with Maofly out in public somewhere, where they might be seen or heard? Even with concealment and obfuscating charms, Harry didn't want to chance it.
"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he got his thoughts back on track. "From loneliness, it looks like. He didn't even know any longer that the figurehead on the Fortune's Fool was a real person, but apparently he used to talk to it all day long while he was fishing . . ." Harry sighed. In the end, the case had turned out to be sad tale from start to finish. "He's at St. Mungo's now, assigned to a Mind Healer. They aren't sure yet if they can ever straighten him out. At least Elinora doesn't understand what happened to her, but her parents went through two years of absolute hell--"
Malfoy pushed his tea away. "I can imagine. At least when my father was in Azkaban I knew where he was. They wouldn't let me visit, though, so I still did have to wonder how he was doing."
Huh. Harry hadn't ever thought about Malfoy missing his father, or worrying about him. He didn't really like the feeling it gave him, to look back and realize that under all his sneering bravado, Malfoy had been human after all.
Or maybe he didn't like the fact that he should have known that much all along. He had found the other man crying in a bathroom, after all.
"I guess . . ." Harry cleared his throat again. This really shouldn't be so hard to say, not when it was what he'd bought Malfoy here to hear. "Um . . . I guess this means you really do have some, er . . . Seer powers. Otherwise, how could you know to send me information about Elinora? How could you have come up with the boat's name?"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you're still trying to find another explanation."
"Er, well, I suppose Kreacher could have seen the case file left out somewhere here and blabbed some details to you, and you could have, er, come up with Fortune's Fool some other way--"
"Have you got any Veritaserum?" Malfoy shrugged. "I'm perfectly willing to submit to questioning if that will settle your mind on the question of my Seer powers."
"That would only prove that you believe you have them," said Harry scornfully.
"And that I first heard of Elinora through the runes, not through any other means."
Right, of course. But still, the mention of Veritaserum brought up a good point. "You could have offered to take some truth potion before, you know, when you were trying to convince me you could sense the future, instead of dragging me off to Africa in the hopes that some good deeds would let you See something amazing!"
"You wouldn't have trusted a potion I'd procured, and even if I'd brought you here to get your own . . ." Another faint lifting of shoulders. "It wouldn't have mattered. You weren't ready to listen to me, not then."
Harry made a face. "What the bloody hell makes you think I am now?"
Malfoy looked around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and then returned his gaze to Harry, making his point without a word.
"Yeah, well, there is that," muttered Harry, scowling. "Look, don't read too much into it. I just thought we'd better--" He broke off in frustration. "Why do you care so much if I believe you're a Seer?"
"I've told you a hundred times," said Malfoy, his voice going fierce. "It's important that you trust me."
"To keep the world from ending," scoffed Harry.
"Something like that, yes." Malfoy took up his teacup again, but set it down rather quickly. Not quickly enough, though, to keep Harry from seeing them shaking.
"What?"
"It's nothing."
Harry didn't think so. "I thought you wanted me to trust you. Lying to me's hardly the way to go about it."
"I wasn't lying! Saying it was nothing is just a reflex--"
"Fine. Keep your secrets. Forget I ever asked."
"Fuck. You don't make things easy, do you?"
Harry challenged Malfoy with a glare. "You think you do?"
"Here it is, then," said Malfoy, practically snarling by then. "I want you to believe in my Seer powers because then you'll be able to see things from my side of the wand! I didn't want to wreck your precious wedding to the she-Weasel, but I didn't see any other choice! I tried to get you to leave her, you know. I sent those letters, little good that they did me! And then the big day was roaring down upon me, and what was I supposed to do, just let the whole world get blasted to smithereens? You wouldn't ever have been able to trust me once you were married to her. You'd listen to your wife, of course you would, and she was going to poison your mind against all Malfoys no matter what--"
He broke off to take a long, deep breath, then spoke more calmly. "Harry. I don't want you to hate me for that day forever."
Harry was frankly surprised that Malfoy hadn't brought up the way that Ginny had proven herself so faithless, so quickly. Not that that could excuse Malfoy. Harry couldn't regard what had happened as a lucky escape, because the way things had turned out, he hadn't escaped at all. He'd just been embroiled in a different sort of problem. "And I didn't want to be made into a Malfoy against my will."
"But . . . surely it's not so bad?" Malfoy swallowed. "It's not as though it's changed much about your life. Nobody knows, and you're back on the job, just as I always said you would be."
"Yes, going over old case files. Exactly what I trained for, thank you so fucking much."
Malfoy winced, just a little. "Well, that part is my fault, I will admit--"
"It's all your fault!"
Malfoy sighed. "Right. It is, yes. But what can I do about it now, Harry?" He pulled his teacup close again and stared down into it. Looking for tea leaves? Harry didn't know. "I didn't handle things very well. That much I'm sure of. But it's not as though I knew what to do, Harry, to avoid the coming rain of destruction. The Path doesn't work that way. All I knew was that I had to get you away from Ginny Weasley, and that I had to get you to know me, instead. It wasn't much to go on."
"Your soup didn't tell you to adopt me?"
"No, it just said you had to trust me, or all was lost." Malfoy glanced up, his silver eyes looking somehow haunted. "The rest was my idea. And if you can never trust me now, if I've bollixed things up too badly--" He turned his face away, but not before Harry saw the desolation that swept across it.
Harry sighed. The possibility that Malfoy really was a Seer kept circling all his other thoughts, but at the same time, he couldn't forget that he was dealing with a Slytherin. Taking things on trust . . . that just wasn't on. "Are you really willing to take Veritaserum?"
Malfoy nodded, the motion quick and curt.
"Stay here, then. I'll go and get some." Harry narrowed his eyes, not caring that Malfoy had been in his house before and had apparently behaved himself. "Don't go poking about in my things. And don't think I won't know."
"Set Kreacher to watch me if you can't bring yourself to even trust me that far."
"Ha." For all Harry knew, Kreacher might have more loyalty to the scion Malfoy than to Harry himself, especially now that he could detect Malfoy family magic in Harry himself. Anyway, Kreacher was no stranger to betrayal -- though on the tail end of that thought, Harry had to acknowledge, as he always did, that Sirius' own behaviour toward Kreacher had played a role in what had happened.
"Just stay here," snapped Harry, casting a spell that caused a purplish fog to descend over his kitchen. He gave Malfoy one last disgusted look and then turned his back, heading for his Floo.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"No."
Nodding, Harry carefully let three drops fall onto Malfoy's outstretched tongue, watching as he swallowed and his eyes glazed over in a way that was all too familiar to Harry.
"When did you first learn of Elinora?"
"In the runes."
"Did you know I was interested in a kidnapping case?"
"No."
"Have you talked to Kreacher since that day when you came here to fetch clothes for me?"
"No."
"Or communicated with him in any way?"
"No."
"Where did you first come across the phrase 'Fortune's Fool?'"
"In a play."
All right, that took Harry aback. "A play?"
"A famous play," clarified Malfoy. "It begins, 'Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene--'"
Harry cut him off before he recited the whole damned thing. "Where else have you ever run across the phrase?"
"In the runes."
"Did you know when you saw it there that it would turn out to be a boat?"
"No."
"Why did you send me the information about Elinora?"
"A vision came to me, a vision of you staring at a parchment. I somehow knew I'd written it even though it wasn't in my hand. I'd been seeing runes mentioning Elinora for weeks and weeks, with no idea why I would. I took a chance that the rune message had been for you all along."
Harry sat down in the chair across from Malfoy, then. He couldn't say that his mind had been put to rest, exactly . . . but he did think that Malfoy must have at least a smattering of Seer-like powers.
Now, he had other questions.
"Do you really believe that the world is going to blow itself up if I don't learn to trust you?"
"No."
A-ha!
"So that was all just some sort of ruse, was it?"
"No."
Harry rolled his eyes, but at himself, not Malfoy. How many times had he been told during Auror training that yes-no questions were the least likely to be useful during a Veritaserum interrogation?
"What have you Seen about the end of the world?" he tried.
"Death and desolation," said Malfoy in a tone eerily reminiscent of Trelawney at her battiest. "Destruction and devasatation. A wasteland in which dislocated souls wander without happiness or hope, many of them lacking even thought. And more things besides, things of horror that no human language can hope to address. A scene from primal nightmares before the world as we know it was born. And everywhere, everywhere, a blackness of spirit such as the earth has never before seen."
All that proved, Harry thought, was that Malfoy believed he'd Seen all that. It didn't mean that things would really turn out like that.
On the other hand, the whole Elinora episode certainly provided some food for thought.
"Do you really believe that you're a Seer?"
"Yes."
"Who else believes the same?"
"I cannot state another's thoughts with certainty, but it is my belief that both our parents have total trust in the truth of my powers."
Both our parents. That was a telling phrase, given as it was under truth potion.
Harry hadn't planned the question that next shot from between his lips. "What am I to you?"
Malfoy's upper lip curled slightly, like he thought that was a stupid question. "You are my brother in name and in truth, and a solemn charge to my responsibilities as the scion Malfoy. You are a challenge, a reminder that though my Seer powers do show me the Path forward, I have been a miserable failure at understanding how to best walk that path. And sometimes . . . you are a complete pain in the arse."
Harry laughed. "Well, that last bit was certainly honest."
"The whole thing was honest!"
"Yeah, I know."
Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "Do you?"
"Sort of," muttered Harry. "I mean, I do think now that you really believe we're brothers."
"But you don't."
"Well, it's kind of hard to believe that you don't still hate my guts."
"Oh, I still hate your guts sometimes," admitted Malfoy, a strange smile slanting his mouth to one side. "But that's just annoyance, these days. It's not the vitriol it used to be."
Harry cast a spell and saw that the Veritaserum was still holding strong.
Then he sighed. There was a lot that he could still pry into, but somehow, he didn't have the heart for it. The important things were clear enough. Malfoy sincerely believed in his own Seer abilities; that was no trick. And while Harry didn't know exactly what he thought of the man's gloom-and-doom predictions, he could admit now that there might be something to them.
Might.
"No more questions," he said, flicking his wand to display the time. "For about five more minutes."
Malfoy looked surprised, but after a moment he nodded. They sat in silence for a time, both of them watching Harry's ghostly time spell marking off the minutes as they passed.
"All right. Say something to prove you're out from under it."
"Malfoy Manor has been relocated to Tasmania."
"Yeah, you're out from under it."
Malfoy nodded. "And now?"
"Now . . . we just go on, I guess."
Another nod.
"But . . ." Harry cleared his throat, wondering why this was difficult. It really shouldn't be. "Um, I was thinking, though, that your help today was really useful, for Elinora I mean, and, um--"
"It would be a very great honour if I could use my Seer powers to assist you again," said Malfoy at once.
That was a relief. Not that Harry had expected a refusal, but somehow, he hadn't really wanted to ask. "Yeah. Good. So, um, I'll change my wards so your owls can get through. Um, and firecalls, I guess, but I still wouldn't want you just stepping through without permission--"
"If I might make a suggestion?"
Here it comes, thought Harry resentfully. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile and a half. "What?" he barked.
"I was able to provide you with much more specific information once I had some context about your case."
Oh. Well, that wasn't so bad. "So you'd like to be kept apprised of what I'm working on?"
"I think it would be helpful."
"I can do that. So, I'll owl you?"
"Or simply drop by the manor."
"Don't push."
Malfoy smiled. "All right, I won't."
"And don't tell anyone, either," added Harry. "I kept your name out of my report."
The smile died. "I see."
"What, did you want credit?" asked Harry in a mocking tone. "Is that why you gave me the name of the boat, so you could start to reclaim your family's so-called standing?"
"That wasn't why and you know it," snapped Malfoy. "I can't help it that as the scion Malfoy, I tend to think of things like that. But I wouldn't dream of interfering in your job again, Harry. If I've learned anything from this debacle, it's that. So you do whatever you think best. Credit all your future successes to your own intuition and powers of deduction. Be my guest!"
"I will, thanks!"
"Great!"
"Fine!"
"Wonderful!"
They both tried to stare each other down, then, only to burst out laughing a moment later.
"I see that not all the vitriol is dead and gone," said Harry dryly.
"Yeah, well it's true that you're a pain in the arse. Let's not let that get in our way."
"Let's not let it get in the way of solving cases," corrected Harry.
Malfoy shrugged. "As you say. Just one more thing, and then I'll be going. I did mean what I said that day at Magical Law Enforcement. We'd all be very pleased to welcome you to dinner. Whenever you like, Harry."
"That's not on."
"I thought not."
"But . . ." Harry sighed. "I have been visiting a bit with your parents. They're . . . well, let's just say that it's been interesting."
"I know you've been visiting, and no, not because they mentioned it."
"The scion powers," murmured Harry, remembering the way Malfoy had instantly known that Harry had Apparated into Malfoy Manor. The way he'd been able to speak directly into Harry's ear. Well, that could come in useful. Look at how it had helped Harry crack the case tonight. "Yeah, all right."
Malfoy reached out and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I am sorry I didn't handle things better from the start. I didn't know what to do. I just knew that I had to do something."
Again, Harry was reminded of Sirius. He knew what it was like to feel panicked into action. Still, though--
He shrugged away the other man's touch. "You could have told me from the start that I wasn't really your slave, that it had all been a trick to get me to offer myself willingly so you could bind me into that adoption spell!"
"Yes, I could have. But I wanted you to trust me! Admitting that I'd started everything with a huge lie hardly seemed a capital idea."
"As long as that lie stood between us, though, I was never going to trust you."
"I see that now," said Malfoy stiffly. "And now?"
Now?
Harry started at Malfoy for a long moment, thinking back over the past few months, the way that Malfoy had backed off. He hadn't come by MLE again, just as promised. He hadn't tried to butt into Harry's conversations with Lucius and Narcissa, though he could easily have done so given his scion powers.
He'd backed off, instead. He'd let Harry set the pace.
Of course, he had sent that message about Elinora, but in the circumstances, Harry could hardly fault him for it.
"We'll see," Harry said at last. "Goodnight."
Malfoy glanced about the kitchen one last time as if committing it to memory, then nodded briskly and threaded his way through narrow hallways until he reached the Floo. Then he vanished in a pillar of flame without ever having made a reply.