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Chapter Twenty-Three: I Have Minions

Draco artfully arranged himself on his bed, knowing that his Slytherins would come directly to the dorm as soon as they arrived back at Hogwarts. His Slytherins. He liked the sound of that. Even better, the Malfoy Minions. Maybe he'd make them get a mark. A sensible stylized "M" rather than some tacky skull and snake. Whatever had his father been thinking when he allowed something like that to befoul his flawless skin?

Knowing he'd never figure out the answer to that, he went back to his "artful arranging." Should he conjure low stools around the bed for them? Or maybe just cushions to make it easy for them to kneel in his presence? He looked at the wand Pomfrey had threatened to take away if he used it too much. Fuck it; if they wanted to sit, they could conjure it up themselves.

Hearing voices flooding into the common room, he tugged the cuff of his robes over his wrist and waited. Seconds later, the door flew open and his friends poured in.

"Well?" Pansy asked eagerly. "What happened?"

Rude, but he gave her points for enthusiasm. "Before or after my father showed up?"

Mouths dropped open. "What? Why didn't you owl me? Oh, God, Draco, what happened?" Pansy dropped on the bed beside him.

Draco shrugged. "I lied. Very well, I may add. He thinks Potter and I are working on a transfiguration project together."

"I'm lost," Blaise said, quietly demanding an explanation.

Pansy told about Mitchell Flint's attempt at revenge.

"How could you know this and not hex the little shit on the train?" Blaise asked Pansy angrily. "Why didn't you tell us and let us hex the little shit?"

"Because I knew Draco deserved that honor."

Draco nodded, pleased at his minions' righteous anger on his behalf. "She's right. The little shit is mine. But enough about that insignificant speck. I think you were inquiring about a certain binding ceremony-and your subsequent oaths of loyalty, fealty, and allegiance."

"So are you-" Pansy began, reaching for his wrist.

He jerked away from her. "We had the ceremony. Dumbledore officiated. Therefore, the terms of our contract were satisfied and all of you-belong to me."

"But-" Nothing else came out of Blaise's mouth as the contract materialized in front of him. He grabbed it and read, then passed it on.

"Did you at least get married?" Pansy asked. "At least we'll have that protection."

"Not like we'd had if they had been bound," Millicent groused.

"You were right here when we drew up the contract, Millie," Pansy pointed out.

"Well, you're supposed to be the smart one!"

"Draco's the smart one!" Pansy and Blaise shouted together.

Draco laughed. "That I am. Now, grovel at my feet like good little minions."

"Are we screwed, Draco?" Greg asked as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed like the rest of the Slytherins. No one conjured a pillow.

"Would I do that to you?" Draco replied, with a slight tsk. "Behold, the power of a Malfoy." With those words he allowed his cuff to slide back, revealing the binding bracelet.

"You sneaky shit," Blaise muttered.

"How?" was the only word Pansy could manage.

"Hell if I know," Draco said in all honesty. "Guess it's what the fuck you get when you fuck around with the fucking savior of the universe."

"Cool," Millicent said, summing it all up.

"So now what?" Vincent asked as he lifted his bulk from the floor, his knees creaking.

"Now," Draco said, patting the edge of his bed. He could be generous in private. "We talk, and we plan."

"You miss being with him."

Harry looked over to where Hermione had plopped down beside him. It was a beautiful day and most of the students had headed outside to study, except for Ron and Seamus who were in detention for some prank pulled in Divinations. Harry was sitting beneath what he, Ron, and Hermione considered "their" tree. Draco was across the lake in the "Slytherin zone." Harry knew this because he'd been studying Draco for most of the hour he'd been sitting there. Was it because he missed being with his bondmate? Classes had resumed three days ago and Draco had been constantly surrounded by the Slytherins. And while it was true that they were never really together, maybe Hermione had a point. Maybe he was missing the contact they'd had during the break. "They take good care of him."

"His year-mates?" Harry nodded. "They're almost Hufflepuff-like when it comes to him," Hermione murmured. "Are they truly going to join the Light side?"

"Yeah. They're just trying to figure out the safest way of doing that."

She opened the book she brought, but even knowledge right there in the palm of her hand couldn't distract Hermione from the sheer pleasure of being outside. She gave up and transfigured a leaf into a blanket. Harry joined her on it, both sprawled in the direction of the Slytherins.

"At first, I thought it was all a ploy," Hermione said. "Draco getting involved with you, getting pregnant. I just knew it was You-Know-Who-"

"Voldemort," Harry corrected familiarly.

"I thought it was a plan by Voldemort to make you vulnerable. But when the binding ceremony worked, I knew it was real. I'm happy for you, Harry."

Harry gave her a smile and went back to staring at Draco. He'd sussed out some things as well. Fact: he'd been under the influence of something when he'd raped Draco. Conclusion: somebody had fucking planned something. He didn't know whether it was to set him up for Azkaban, humiliate Draco, or even if a pregnancy had been part of the original thinking or just an added bonus. Fact: Draco and Snape had figured out who the fucking planner was. Otherwise, they'd be so bloody vigilant that it'd make Mad-Eye Moody come in his trousers. Fact: The two had been quick to drop the investigation. Supposition: it must have been a Slytherin of good standing with the two of them. Otherwise, the perpetrator would have been systematically hunted down and pinned outside the Great Hall by his/her entrails. Fact-no, Supposition: Draco and his Slytherins had been pretty desperate to get away from Voldemort. Sure, Draco had made his final decision based on the baby, but Harry could tell he wasn't devastated by having to give up being a Death Eater. The other Slytherins didn't seem that broken up either.

So, the culprit who had caused him to rape Draco was a Slytherin that Draco and Snape liked, and who desperately wanted a way out of serving Voldemort. Even a Gryffindor, he thought with a smirk, could figure out that it had to be one of Draco's crew who'd done the deed. If not all of them. He reasoned that the others had got together and sacrificed their leader, knowing that if anyone could salvage a bad situation, it was Draco. Draco had probably been furious when he figured it out, but he and Snape would have done their own brand of retribution and considered the matter settled. Harry itched for his piece of the miscreants, too, but realized he'd be crossing the line if he interfered. He and Draco might be bound, but the other Slytherins were still off limits.

And, of course, he was supposed to know nothing about this. Just how mentally challenged did the Slytherins think he was? His poor, betrayed-by-his-friends-for-the-greater-good Draco was in for a rude awakening one day.

Poor Draco. Yeah, right. The git, after his initial anger, probably got off on being the "sacrificial lamb" for the Slytherins. A noble martyr and all that rot. Or not. "I wish I knew him better," Harry mused aloud.

"You're going to be spending the rest of your lives together. I think you'll figure him out sooner or later."

Harry unclenched the fingers he found suddenly digging in the dirt. "I might not have that much later, Hermione."

"Harry!"

"It's true and you know it. After Sirius... I wasn't suicidal or anything, but I came to accept that I probably wouldn't live to see twenty. My only concern was that when I went, I took Voldemort with me. But now... My child might grow up like me. I mean, with Draco changing sides, his odds of survival are nearly as low as mine."

"He won't grow up like you, Harry," Hermione said, smiling wistfully at him. "No matter what happens, he'll know he's the son of Harry Potter. The Wizarding world will make sure of that. Even Voldemort can't wipe out all the Weasleys."

Harry laughed. "Said by the most probable candidate for being the newest Weasley."

She blushed. "Ron and I haven't got that serious quite yet."

"Well, maybe you would be if he could keep his arse out of detention," Harry pointed out helpfully.

"Hush, Harry. Ron and I are right where we want to be. And speaking of being in the right place, I think you're going to be there in a minute."

He looked up to see Draco approaching them. Pansy Parkinson called out something to stop him, then she joined him in the walk to the Gryffindors.

"Harry."

"Draco." He wasn't too sure how he was supposed to act in public. Sure, Parkinson had seen him with Draco but both times had been in emergencies.

Draco seemed to understand his reticence. "Don't worry about Pans. I was coming to talk to you by myself, but she said if you were going to have your fag hag with you, I needed one, too."

Harry turned quickly to Hermione, ready to soothe her ruffled feathers. But he found her grinning at her counterpart.

"Want to get T-shirts?" Hermione asked wickedly.

"We'll talk," Pansy said with a smirk.

Women. Maybe there was a reason he was married to Draco. "Have a seat," Harry offered. The two Slytherins elegantly folded their limbs onto the blanket.

"My min-compatriots and I have been discussing the future, and although none of us are seers, we know that we won't have a future if Voldemort is not defeated," Draco said quietly.

"None of us will," Harry replied.

"The Sorting Hat has been admonishing us for years, cautioning us that the Houses had to unite inside Hogwarts. It's time to heed its warnings."

"But you and Harry have," Hermione pointed out.

Draco shook his head. "Not inside Hogwarts we haven't. To our fellow students, we're still archrivals."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Harry queried. Surely Draco wasn't advocating...

Draco sighed. "It's not my first choice or my second, but it is the best choice. We're not like you Gryffindors. We study a problem first, then act. So believe me when I say this is the best solution, given the information that we know."

"I study first," Hermione protested.

"Time-turner," Harry said, reminding her of how they had saved Buckbeak and Sirius. Dumbledore had made the suggestion, but it had been Hermione's caper all the way.

"So we-" Harry stopped, unable to say it.

"Unless you have an objection?"

He shook his head. He didn't care who knew-unless it put Draco in danger. "Is this safe? For you?"

Draco stared off into the distance. "I gave up 'safe' the moment I chose you, Harry."

There was a drawn out, painful moment of silence.

"This will work," Pansy declared. "It's time we stopped ignoring those who would help us simply because it goes against what we've been taught. We need to go back to the old ways, to trusting the signs, to listening to the omens and warnings. We know Potter is the key, that he will defeat You-Know-Who. But this-conflict, war, whatever, is not just Potter and the Dark Lord. We all have to play our parts."

Harry was impressed, and he could tell Hermione was also. They'd been so blinded by Voldemort being a Slytherin that they hadn't considered that shrewdness, cunning, and ambition weren't bad traits to possess.

Harry reached slowly for Draco's shoulder. "Your father?"

"Will be pissed, especially after lying to his face the other day. But I think I've devised a way of delaying his knowing."

Harry nodded, trusting Draco to do what was in Draco's best interest. It was very liberating not having to worry that someone was possibly sacrificing himself or herself for him. "Then that's what we'll do-play our parts. How do you want to do this, Draco?"

"With wands fully drawn?" Draco muttered. Then he lifted his head proudly and gave a full-blown Malfoy smirk. "Like I do everything, Harry-with style."

Chapter Twenty-Four: Great Hall Encounters

Draco surveyed the view from the Gryffindor table-and was not impressed. Hmph. You'd think Dumbledore's Golden Boy would have a decent view. But no, the Great Hall was just that and nothing more. Pity.

It was early yet and the sunshine was tempting the majority of the students to stay outside as long as possible so the room was empty, except for a trio of young Hufflepuffs who were giggling over something and not paying any attention to the room's other occupants. Such silly creatures. He and Blaise had a bet that Hufflepuffs would giggle even under Cruciatus. If he'd become a Death Eater, he might have found out.

Hmm. What was the size of that bet?

"Gryffindors on approach," Blaise hissed from his position further down the table. Draco, of course, was next to Harry. Blaise had decided to play gentleman and sat at the end of the row of "traitorous" Slytherins, protecting the others from possible furious Gryffindors. Draco thought his whole explanation was pure bull; Blaise just wanted to be closest to the door.

Draco looked up at the four approaching Gryffindors. Finnigan, Thomas, and the two tarts-Brown and one of those Indian twins. The tarts were giggling like Hufflepuffs and the blokes had their heads together, probably plotting something "brave." They were almost at the table before they noticed that something was different. Their eyes shot to Potter, then Granger, before going back to Potter again. Potter, brave idiot that he was, just smiled at them.

"Slumming, Harry?" Finnigan asked in what he probably thought was a suave manner.

"Sitting with friends, Seamus. Nothing's wrong with that, is it?"

Draco was impressed. Harry's voice had the right amount of casualness with a hint of challenge tossed in for good measure. And apparently, Finnigan wasn't as big a fool as he appeared.

"No, Harry. Nothing's wrong with that." He shrugged at the other three standing with him, and the four of them sat down with no other comments.

"You have them nicely trained," Draco whispered to Potter.

"They're not-" Potter began. Then he just shook his head. "They've known me a long time. They're giving me the benefit of the doubt."

Draco rolled his eyes. Did Potter not understand the amount of influence he had? People would always kiss his arse in hope that he'd save theirs.

"Slytherins."

Draco stiffened at Blaise's new warning. This could be...tricky. Why had he agreed to this-coming out/Houses uniting thing? He didn't care about saving Hogwarts or as Pansy said, "the next generation of Slytherins." Why had he listened to his minions? Why had his minions even dared to request such behavior from him? Minions were supposed to listen, not make suggestions that risked his life and limb.

Nott had been wrong; he'd make a lousy Dark Lord.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco turned to look evenly into the eyes of a Second Year Slytherin. Fifth and Sixth Years stood behind him. Cowards. "Yes, Bennington?" He knew them all by name. It added to the terror they had of him.

"Why-" the youngster stopped, scared to complete the question. Then one of his companions elbowed him in the back. "Why are you sitting here instead of at our table?"

"Because this is a Hogwarts table, which means it's mine, too. Nothing here belongs to just one House. We don't have to sit at just one table. We don't have to only befriend those in our own House. A House is just the place where your dorm is; it is not your life."

"So...So are you saying Potter is your friend now?" The boy's confusion was mirrored on the faces behind him-and on every other face in the large room. Poor Bennington. Everyone was hiding behind a twelve-year-old. Draco smiled. Bennington was going to make a hell of a Slytherin.

"Yes, Bennington. Harry is my friend. Say hello to Mr. Potter, a Hogwarts student just as you are."

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Bennington said obediently.

"Hello, Bennington. You can call me Harry if you want to. What's your name?"

"Og-Ogden, sir."

"You want to have a seat, Ogden?" Potter slid down to offer a space beside him.

"No-no thank you, sir. But I appreciate the offer." Ogden took a big step backward and nearly ran to the Slytherin table.

"That was fun," Draco said, grinning sharkishly.

"What a polite boy," Hermione gushed.

"Petrified is more like it," Harry said dryly. "What did you do to them, Draco?"

"Manners are a sign of good breeding," Draco replied. He started to add "but I'm sure that's a foreign concept to you lot," but considered his current location and kept his mouth shut.

The Hall continued to fill with students that stared, mumbled and pointed. Just when Draco was wondering which hex would be the most effective-and he was seriously considering starting with the professors' table since they knew and still stared- Ron Weasley walked in. The resulting quiet was so sudden and so complete that Draco looked around to see who cast the Silencing spell.

But it was no spell; merely a crowd waiting to see what Potter's best friend and Malfoy's most bitter enemy would do. Weasley took no heed of anything around him as he slumped into an empty space beside Granger. "I hate detentions," he muttered to no one in particular.

"But it was a good prank you pulled in Divinations," Crabbe, sitting on Weasley's right, said.

Ron grinned without a trace of repentance. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" He sat up and looked around. The crowd drew in a breath.

"Malfoy?"

The crowd leaned forward in anticipation.

"Yes, Weasley?"

The excitement level increased.

"Pass the sausages." The plate was handed across. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The Hall exploded.

"Noisy today," Weasley observed, blithely chomping on one of the requested items.

"Spring fever," Draco replied.

"Oh. Wouldn't know anything about that. Too busy polishing crystal balls."

"Speaking of," Hermione interrupted. "Why were you so much later arriving than Seamus?"

"I accidentally cracked one of the balls, so I had to scrub teacups afterwards."

"Not fun," Goyle murmured sympathetically.

"Scrying bowls are the easiest," Crabbe observed.

The background noise level increased.

"Harry?" Draco whispered.

"Yeah?" Harry whispered back.

"Kiss me."

"What!" Definitely not a whisper. He looked around nervously, then continued whispering. "Um, maybe we should wait until they've got over this first shock."

"This is the perfect time. Trust me."

"I-"

Since timing was extremely critical, Draco decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. He grabbed Potter's ears and pulled him close. The kiss was tentative at first, then Potter seemed to figure out he was supposed to participate and it was-not bad. Potter looked a little dazed when Draco released him, and the Slytherin smiled.

"All right there?" he asked.

Potter nodded dumbly.

Draco laughed delightedly.

Harry blinked and grinned. "Your definition of 'style' is going to take some getting used to."

"Not quite the same word as 'subtle,' huh?" Draco teased. It was a good kiss, not frightening in the least. Maybe they should try another one in the very near future.

"I think you broke everybody."

Draco glanced around the room. All eyes were fixed on the two of them. Mouths were frozen in various position, as were hands, and all eating was halted in progress. "They'll 'unbreak' soon."

"Huh?"

Just then the doors of the Hall flew open and Mitchell Flint stumbled in, his hands pressed tightly against his forehead. He first went to the Slytherin table and glared. When no one reacted, he searched the room and found Draco. He marched over to the Gryffindor table.

"What have you done to me, you son of a bitch!"

"What are you on about, Flint?" Draco asked, blinking innocently.

"This!" He dropped his hands and the Hall gasped. Instead of a forehead where a forehead should be, there was a pair of rounded buttocks. Two seconds later, there was a sound and the mounds of flesh shuddered.

Mitchell Flint had farted from his head.

Draco wrinkled his nose and waved the air. "My goodness, Flint, has no one taught you any manners?"

Flint went for his wand. Before he could completely draw it, there was an entire table of wands pointed at him. Draco briefly wondered if he should be grateful to the Gryffindors for their support, then decided it was just them being Gryffindors.

"You should get someone to look at that, you know. I think muggles call them...proctologists?" He looked at Granger for confirmation. He'd overheard some of the mudbloods talking about different types of medi-um, doctors-and had become curious.

Flint threw down his wand and went for Draco's throat. He got a handful of Potter instead.

A handful of angry Potter.

Draco thought his bondmate rather impressive. Green eyes flashed behind the stupid glasses. The right hook landed solidly. And the dive to follow Flint to the floor could have easily been done on a broom. Harry apparently didn't need a lot of tutelage in style himself.

"Enough, Mr. Potter!"

Professor Snape stood over the fighters, his wand drawn but not in use. Harry got in another punch, then stood up with a snarl. "You're on my list, Flint!"

"He-he's threatening me, Professor," Flint whined to the head of his House.

"You started the threats, Mr. Flint. Potter was within his right to defend his-fellow classmate."

"But-but Malfoy did this to me!"

Draco snorted. "You made an arse out of yourself, Flint, when you took it upon yourself to inform my father of my personal business." He made sure everyone heard his threat. Not that he had any hope in hell that this wouldn't make it back to Lucius. He was just giving them-and Harry-fair warning that retribution would be forthcoming.

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," Snape said. "You seem to have the worst case of acne I've ever seen."

Flint's head farted again.

"Cover yourself!" Snape ordered and dragged the boy out of the Hall.

Ron waited until the doors closed before he burst out laughing. The rest of the students followed.

The whole Potter and Malfoy kiss was sort of forgotten in the merriment.

Well, not really. But it was safer to just laugh.