Chapter Five of 'Bloody But Unbowed'- Even Relatives Can Be a Help

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Five—Even Relatives Can Be a Help

“You’re going to be fine, Mary.” Harry brushed the hair out of his youngest patient’s eyes and smiled at her. She blinked at him and nodded, but didn’t speak. The venom that had placed her in hospital in the first place—from a magically modified tarantula her father had been breeding—rendered her mute. Other than that, it was a perfectly normal poisoning case, and Harry had high hopes of her voice returning within a few more days.

Harry asked her a few more questions, always making sure to phrase them so she could give a nod or shake of her head, and was satisfied with the answers. The attendants had brought her her meals on time and made sure her bedding was changed. When she fell down due to a particularly strong convulsion last night, almost the last side-effect of the poison other than the muteness, someone had come to help her up within a few minutes. That let Harry know the charms on the room to monitor his patient’s health were still working. She was content and wanted for nothing right now, other than to go home and to have someone sit with her. Her father was up on charges for violating the Ban on Experimental Breeding, and her mother divided her time between trying to free her husband and consoling her daughter.

“I’ll come back and sit with you for an hour this evening,” Harry told her, and made a few rapid mental calculations. He wasn’t expected for dinner at Ron and Hermione’s; Hermione had satisfied herself last night that he’d actually listen to her and attempt to get a reasonable amount of sleep. He had to visit patients until four-o’clock, and then he would need two hours, at minimum, to get Malfoy settled into the house at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and reconcile his best friends to his presence. He should probably add an hour to that total just to be safe, on the chance Emptyweed came up with another case for him and because he wanted a second visit to Lucius. “At seven, all right?”

Mary beamed at him and squeezed his hand. Harry squeezed back; he would have liked to kiss her forehead, but any behavior that could be interpreted as romantic between mediwizard and patient was very much out of favor. Patients find the distance between us and them to be comforting, Healer Pontiff had told him in his third lesson. They often want, when weak or sick, the sensation that someone knows what he’s doing, even if that person isn’t them.

“Can you afford the time?” Malfoy asked from behind him.

Harry shot the idiot a tight glance. Malfoy didn’t appear to realize he had just implied that Mary’s comfort was less important than Harry’s busy schedule. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded and a supremely bored look on his face. He did straighten and blink when he saw Harry’s expression, but he’d probably only done that because he thought anger would keep him from getting into Harry’s pants.

“Yes, I most certainly can,” said Harry. “And so can you, if you’re so intent on trailing after me.”

“I’m accustomed to relaxing before the fire by then, Potter,” Malfoy said. His voice had softened, but had a tinge of a puzzled tone to it. He raked Harry with his eyes for a moment, pausing on his face. “And you look like you could do with an hour when you’re not worrying about that nasty superior of yours or all the noble self-sacrifices you like to make.”

“If you think you can change my routine to suit your self-indulgent notions,” Harry said, softly and through a smile for Mary’s sake, “you’re wrong.” He turned back to Mary and nodded firmly. “I’ll be here at seven,” he repeated.

When he left the room, Malfoy trailed him. At least he wasn’t all but breathing down Harry’s neck the way he had been before Harry snapped at him that he was working and liked some room in which to move his elbows. But he was still present, and Harry was irritatingly, constantly, aware of him, except when he could actually focus on a patient.

Even relatives can be helpful, he thought, applying another bit of Healer Pontiff’s advice. When you can get them to tell you details about the patient, for example.

“Do you think Mr. Smythe honestly believes that your father raped his daughter?” he asked abruptly. “Or is that a cover story for something more sinister?”

From the soft choke Malfoy gave, Harry had surprised him. Harry kept his gaze straight ahead and his stride brisk, but a smile he couldn’t help touched his lips. It was unworthy of him to enjoy surprising Malfoy like this. He would probably try to do it again anyway.

“The Death Eaters wore masks, Potter.” Unexpectedly, Malfoy sounded weary, as if this were a question that he had answered many times before. “Nor did my father always wear his hair uncovered. Just because a masked Death Eater hurt a member of someone’s family—and I’m not denying that many of them did hurt quite a few people—doesn’t mean it was my father who committed the crime.”

Harry paused and glanced back, his hand on the turning of the corridor that would deposit him near his next patient’s room. Malfoy looked at him with a raised eyebrow, his mouth firm, but there were shadows behind and under his eyes that Harry knew too well. He looked that way when someone tried to question him too closely about the war, especially about whether he thought he should have defeated Voldemort earlier to try and spare others pain.

This is a grieving man, Harry realized suddenly, with a force that was like a branch springing back into his face. This is a man who’s had to confront demons in the years since the war, even if he does look as though he’s had it all his own way. It can’t be easy to know that his father is hated and a target, and that he doesn’t have the choice of spending all his time comfortably at home anymore, far from labor. Or maybe he chose to work for a potions mastery because he wanted to, but that sill brings him into conflict with people.

“I can promise you,” Malfoy said, voice gentler than it had been yet, “if you like the expression I’m wearing now, I’m more than willing to present it to you as often as you wish.” He wore that softened half-smile again, and his eyes were eager.

He doesn’t really want to know about me, Harry told himself, to kill the hope that suddenly began to flourish in him. He wants to evaluate me for weaknesses so he can get me into bed.

“There is something I’d like to see more of from you, Malfoy.” He made his voice more intimate than normal, and the man responded to it like a bird lured with a handful of seed, moving towards him with a single nervous stride.

“What?” he breathed.

“Your back,” Harry said, and then continued on his way. It was one thing to offer sympathy to Malfoy, to see him as a patient in need of healing. But the moment he had achieved that perception, Malfoy had to challenge it and try to appear as someone intent on playing a role in Harry’s life.

He could never be that. He would demand too much, or at least demand the impossible. Harry had enough demands to put up with, and only half of them were those he would have chosen. Why should he offer charity to a man who would whisk out of his life soon enough, the moment Harry had cured Lucius?

*

“I can’t believe you live here.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Malfoy was standing in the entrance to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and staring about as though he could count the worth of every single Dark artifact Harry had removed from the rooms downstairs simply by looking at the entrance hall. “My godfather left it to me,” he said. “I’m afraid your mother didn’t impress him as a trustworthy custodian.”

Malfoy focused on him again, and his expression settled into one of honest disgust—or at least disgust that seemed honest. Harry warned himself that he didn’t really know and certainly couldn’t trust it. “You think I’m angry because the Black house didn’t pass into my hands?” he asked. “Good God, Potter. I wouldn’t live here if you paid me.”

“And no one is paying you to dance attendance on me.” Harry rested a hand on the banister, to prevent it from shaking with joy at the thought of getting rid of Malfoy so easily. “You might as well leave now.”

Malfoy chuckled. “I was using the word ‘live’ in a more permanent sense,” he said, stepping past Harry and regarding the spot where Mrs. Black’s portrait had once hung on the wall. “Once you’ve come to your senses, I’m sure I can help you find a house you needn’t be ashamed to have company in.”

“I would be ashamed to associate with anyone you thought of as suitable company,” Harry said, and stepped into the kitchen. Kreacher, he was grateful to note, had sandwiches and tea already waiting. It was Harry’s standard meal on a night like this, when he planned to go back to hospital later. He picked up the nearest sandwich and took a large bite of it, sighing in happiness as cheese and meat slid down his throat. He had never known how hungry he could be until he came home after long hours of caring for patients and dealing with nonsensical demands on his time. He expected the Healers to know more than he did, he would never dispute their superior skills, but really. Just because Emptyweed could get away with dumping his extra cases on Harry didn’t mean that Healers Delart and Juno could.

“You live a cramped life, don’t you?”

Malfoy, of course, was lounging against the doorframe and probably regarding the kitchen with disdain. Harry didn’t bother turning to look, only devoured his sandwich and reached for a second one. “As before,” he said, “you’re welcome to leave and go back to St. Mungo’s if you like. Or Malfoy Manor.”

“You have no idea what a sacrifice of life force means either.”

Harry turned around then, eyes narrowed. Malfoy had the weary tone in his voice, and Harry wanted him to stop it because he was harder to deal with when he was like that. “I know life debts can endure between wizards who neither trust nor like each other,” he said. “I can’t believe that you would insist on its importance the way you’re doing.”

“It’s more than important,” Malfoy said. “It’s almost—it means—“ He broke off and made a small frustrated noise in his throat, shaking his head. Harry hoped he would shake it so hard that it would fly off his neck and smash into the wall. “I don’t have the words to explain it. This would be so much easier if you were a pure-blood,” he finished, sounding plaintive.

“I’ve made your life hard from the day I appeared in it,” Harry said. “Why ruin a fine tradition?” He finished his second sandwich, picked up the third, and wandered away from the kitchen towards the stairs, Malfoy in tow. The house they climbed through was less gloomy than it had been, with a few open windows and lamps lit and shining on the walls, but nothing could destroy the casual air of darkness that hung around it. At least, nothing could for Harry; knowing Malfoy, this probably felt like home. “You’ll have a bedroom near mine, the better to hear me if I scream for help. I hope you won’t be too bored.”

“Listening to you scream for me could never be boring.”

Harry’s lips twitched without his permission. Really, why should it be so hard for him to ignore Malfoy? He blamed his mediwizard instincts. He was used to reaching out to people in intense pain, cursed people who no longer trusted anyone, and those with injuries so great or diseases so chronic that they had given up the notion of anyone being able to help them. When Harry saw the signs of suffering in Malfoy’s face, he reached out. Not his fault, he hastened to reassure himself, just a trained response he was neither to blame nor to celebrate.

Like so much of my life, really, he thought, but in that direction lay self-pity, and that was one emotion he tried never to entertain. “You shouldn’t lack for comforts here,” he went on. “Kreacher’s kept up all the bedrooms, and there’s a great deal more furniture in storage. He can prepare any food you like—“

“I wouldn’t have known, from that plate of sandwiches in the kitchen.”

“That’s simply what I like to eat.” Harry paused on the top step to shrug at Malfoy, who had followed him less closely than Harry had thought he would. A moment later, he realized Malfoy was at the perfect height on the stairs to appreciate Harry’s arse. Harry fought a blush away. Nothing would come of it. If anything, Malfoy should be the one embarrassed for seeming so desperate. “You needn’t feel bound by my tastes.”

“If your taste runs to bondage—“

“You’re quite certain your mastery isn’t in innuendo?” Harry snapped back, and stepped onto the top stair, gesturing Malfoy towards three of the shut doors. “All those rooms are fitted as bedrooms. Choose which one you like.”

“I decided to take a mastery in potions partially in remembrance of Professor Snape,” Malfoy said he opened the first door. “But soon enough I realized a passion for the art that I hadn’t had in years. It reminded me of simpler times, before I had to make decisions that could have meant life and death for my entire family.” He shuddered like someone with a deep chill. “I recaptured some of that whilst I worked on the earlier stages of my mastery. It was as if I were growing through a childhood and adolescence I’d missed into a stronger person. Now that I’m working on the more stringent potions, I can finally feel like an adult.”

Harry halted himself just in time. He’d been about to step forwards and rest a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. He shuddered as Malfoy had and leaned against the wall instead, as if it were nothing to him why Malfoy wanted to study potions. This was exactly how he’d been attracted to Gene and Jennifer, and though those had been the strongest and healthiest of his relationships—he still received post from them on occasion, and they’d parted good friends—he’d learned he couldn’t be what they needed. Gene had needed someone who could give him more individualized attention than a mediwizard would ever be able to spare. And Jennifer had told Harry, as gently as possible, that he’d been coddling her a bit and she had to face the world on her own two feet.

Even if he had good reason to feel sorry for Malfoy, that wasn’t a good enough reason to sleep with him.

“I’ll take this one.”

Harry looked up. Malfoy had opened the door of the second bedroom and now stood looking in with a satisfied half-smile. He turned to glance back at Harry. “Unless you meant the offer of sharing your bed with me, of course,” he added.

“There is nothing I want to do less right now,” Harry said, lying effortlessly. He could do that to people who weren’t Hermione, when he had enough warning. “Except possibly explaining your presence in my house to my friends.”

On cue, he heard the fire flare to life in the study. He sighed. “Stay here for a few minutes,” he said. “Come when I call you.”

Malfoy bowed. In his grace, Harry saw the strongest impression of Lucius he’d encountered yet. “A skill I haven’t yet had the pleasure to learn, but would be more than happy to master for you,” he murmured.

Harry turned abruptly on his heel and stalked towards the study. Malfoy had changed his tactics since they entered the house, he thought. Now he was flirting more subtly and skillfully, and offering Harry exactly the tidbits about his life that Harry could sympathize with. Harry was worried that came from an afternoon of observation. Or, even worse, he could have realized why his earlier flirtation hadn’t worked and decided to shift to something that would.

Harry couldn’t afford the distraction. He—

He paused for a moment between one step and the next. Then he snorted and continued walking.

Both Lucius and Malfoy had taken care to emphasize the similarity between the Heart’s Blessing spell, or at least what it meant to them, and a life debt. If they were so similar, surely Harry’s sacrifice could be paid back the way a life debt would be? If Malfoy saved his life, would that cancel out the sacrifice?

Harry would try to find out.

Meanwhile, he would try to soothe Ron and Hermione.

*

“I still don’t think I’ve understood,” Ron said ten minutes later. “Maybe if you use smaller words, mate?”

Harry, leaning on the mantle, smiled. “I don’t really understand it myself,” he admitted. “No one else ever offered me a bodyguard because I’d done the only right thing I could do. Granted, the situation with Lucius is extraordinary, but—“

“Now you sound like Hermione.” Ron tapped the side of his head. “I’ve spent most of my day being deafened by the newest Fwooper Charm George designed. Then what was left of my brain dribbled out my ears when I visited Percy and had to listen to him crooning baby talk to Lucy.” Lucy was Percy’s daughter, of whom he was so protective that Harry expected the girl to grow up with a morbid fear of breathing. “Small words, remember.”

“Lucius is an unusual patient,” Harry said.

“You got that right,” Ron muttered.

“And it seems that he wants me alive so I can heal him.” Harry shrugged. “What Malfoy’s interest in the matter is, I’m not exactly certain.” Of course, he did know that, but Ron would probably have a heart attack if Harry told him, and that would be of no use to anyone. Besides, whilst Harry might know what the interest was, he couldn’t count on any of the motivations. Malfoy was probably doing this simply to relieve stress. At the outside, he thought making Harry his lover would bind him more closely to his family’s cause. Harry was at a loss as to how he would show much more devotion to Lucius’s well-being than he had already. “But he’s serving as honor guard until we can find out who tried to kill Lucius by removing the stabilization fields, and it’s not impossible that that same person might try to remove me as well.”

“To think I thought being a mediwizard was a peaceful career.”

Harry laughed. Before he could say anything else, Ron’s head abruptly vanished from the flames. Hermione shoved him out of the way and knelt down to stare at Harry with bright eyes.

“You have Malfoy living in the same house with you?” she demanded. “Sharing your meals, sleeping across the corridor?”

As it happened, the bedroom Malfoy had chosen was directly opposite Harry’s, but he doubted Hermione had meant it that literally. She simply had a genius for right guesses. “Er, yes?” he replied, not understanding her interest.

“And he wants you healthy so you can heal his father?” Hermione continued.

Harry stood up straight. Now he understood. Hermione was thinking that with a live-in baby-sitter, even a spoiled one, Harry wouldn’t spend as much time working and would go to bed at what she called “a reasonable time” and Harry called “three hours too early.” “That’s right,” he said. “But he’s not in charge of maintaining that health.”

“I beg to differ, Potter,” Malfoy said behind him, and then he walked in range of the fireplace and nodded quite casually, as if he and Hermione passed each other in the street every day. “Once again, we use widely varying definitions. I did think you looked too peaky when I saw you come into my father’s room this morning.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest this, only to have Hermione say, “I made sure he rested nine hours last night.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Well, quite obviously that wasn’t enough, Granger.”

“And you think you can get him to sleep longer than that? When he’ll be worried about having you in his house?” Hermione rested her chin on her fists and snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Am I the only one in the room who realizes how bizarre this conversation sounds?” Harry asked the wall.

“I’m here to help him, not trouble him,” Malfoy said. “Let a few days pass and he’ll be so used to me that he might want me around all the time.” He folded his arms and tilted his chin up, staring at Hermione haughtily down the length of his nose.

Hermione laughed shortly. “But I’ll bet not even you could make him eat a regular meal. He doesn’t, you know, most of the time. It’s ‘gulp a headache potion and continue working until I wonder why I’m fainting,’ with him.”

“I’m not sure I appreciate my father’s care being in the hands of a mediwizard who can’t even take care of himself,” Malfoy said coldly, spinning towards Harry and eyeing him as if he had just admitted to drinking Felix Felicis before a Quidditch match.

“My patients are important.” Harry couldn’t help the way his body had stiffened. He would never neglect his patients, but the mere rumor that he had might be the thing that would finally get him sacked. Emptyweed would certainly pay Galleons to hear it. And Harry was not going to let Malfoy cost him his job, his sanity, or anything else he valued.

“And you’re not?” Malfoy clucked his tongue. “Well, much is now explained. Your horrendous taste in furnishings, for example. Of course you can’t choose the right ones if you never take the time to pay attention to them.”

“I’m important, too!” Harry burst out, and then caught sight of Hermione grinning smugly. He glared at her. “You needn’t think you’ve won the bet forever,” he said. “Or lost it.” He paused for a moment, confused; he was used to thinking that he had won the bet when Hermione took care of her own welfare, though the punishments she imposed on him often made him feel like a first-year all over again. “I mean,” he said, “you know that Malfoy won’t be a permanent house-guest, and you would hate it if he was.”

“As long as he’s here,” Hermione said with contentment in her voice, “he might as well do you good.” She leaned around him and scowled at Malfoy. “If I hear that you’ve hurt him, you’d better be on the other side of England from me.”

Malfoy smiled slowly, a smile that made Harry want to put his head under a pile of blankets and never raise it again. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said. “Hurting him would be counterproductive to my plans in more than one way.” He gave Harry a speculative glance. “Unless, of course, he likes that.”

Hermione’s head vanished from the flames just as quickly as it had appeared, and Ron’s returned. He had his hand over his eyes. “You know what, mate?” he said in Harry’s general direction. “I’m going to close the Floo connection now, and we’re going to pretend that this conversation never happened. All right?”

“Ron, it’s really not what you think—“

“I’m sure something can happen that’s worse than what I think,” Ron said. “I’m trying not to think about it at all. Just tell me when the ferret’s gone.” And there was a large puff of green flames, after which the Floo closed.

Harry sighed. Well, he reckoned that was one way to reconcile Ron to Malfoy’s presence. If he never visited Grimmauld Place whilst Malfoy was there, then Harry didn’t have to worry about them fighting.

“Your friends are more amusing than I remember them being from school,” Malfoy said reflectively. “But that doesn’t mean you get all the food or rest you need. You need a full-time watcher.”

“Fuck you, I don’t!” Harry snapped, whipping around to face him. He could accept teasing like this from Hermione because he knew that genuine concern underlay it. Here, where the only concern Malfoy could have for him centered in what good he could be to Lucius, Harry found himself unable to bear the condescension. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t need to be afraid that I’ll suddenly lose interest in Lucius, or turn against him the way the Healers have, or expose him to danger just because I’m tired. You don’t need to have anything to do with me. I—“

Malfoy leaped at him.

Harry dodged, snarling and certain this was some stupid ploy to wrestle him to the floor and snog him, but something struck him in the middle of the back. Harry felt a burning sensation spread up his spine, and his limbs lost all their strength. His eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped, his arms flying up.

Malfoy rolled him onto his stomach and fumbled in his pockets for a moment. Then Harry heard a cork being popped from a vial. The burning in his back faded so suddenly that Harry blinked and frowned. Malfoy had poured some sort of cooling potion on it, he thought, which explained why he felt as if he might be able to stand up again.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and forced an arm beneath him. “That’s the debt your father owed me canceled, isn’t it?” He managed to turn his head and see that one of the windows was broken; the curse had come through it. “You saved my life.” His own voice sounded oddly dull in his ears.

“I did,” Malfoy said, forcing him flat again with an effortless push, “and the debt isn’t canceled because it’s not that kind of debt, and you’re going to rest.”

“I have to sit with Mary.” Harry had never known that his own legs could go so rubbery.

“I’ll make your excuses to the charming young lady.”

“I was on the verge of figuring out the maze of spells on your father,” Harry muttered. His head was lolling, and he had the distinct impression Malfoy had picked him up, which was wrong for many reasons. He’d step on Malfoy’s foot any moment now, see if he didn’t.

“It can wait.”

“Can’t.”

“You’re as stubborn as a child when you want to be.” Malfoy laid a hand over his eyes, forcing them shut. “Go to sleep.”

Harry came up with many excuses as to why he couldn’t do that before he realized, to his annoyance, that he had fallen asleep whilst doing so.

Chapter 6.

Comments

[valkyrie17.livejournal.com]

Loved Hermione's attitude in this...if Malfoy is going to be in Harry's house, he might as well make sure Harry takes care of himself :)

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

Really, Hermione is more worried about Harry than she lets on. She thinks he's destroying his health in some silly attempt to prove that he can be good at his job.

[auntbijou.livejournal.com]

Whoa, this is good! I am enjoying this and find in enthralling, in case I haven't mentioned it yet. I'm not even going to try to figure out how something got through the wards at Grimmauld Place, because I can't wait to see what you do next!

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Actually, that mystery is explained in Chapter 6. Harry will know the truth, once he takes a bit of time to think about it.

[beatnikspinster.livejournal.com]

The Hermione and Draco conversation was a nice moment. Ron was funny as usual. I like your Draco as flirty over-caregiver. I can't wait to find out what the attack was.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

I'm still struggling a bit with how to characterize Draco. He is very different from others I've done- flirty, but not self-confident the way I've written lawyer!Draco or Psyche-Diver!Draco. And it doesn't help that in this case the story is not given from his POV.

[thrnbrooke.livejournal.com]

Someone attacked Harry in his home? Why isn't it warded? I can understand taking the Fidelis off but to not ward it?

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

That question is answered in the next chapter. Actually, it is warded.

[snottygrrl.livejournal.com]

poor harry. he doesn't stand a chance against draco and hermione.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

He knows that. So his next step will be trying to avoid direct confrontation...

[ravenqueen55.livejournal.com]

Draco and Hermione sort-of teaming up as persistent caregivers for Harry? That boy really doesn't stand a chance.

And, what's this now??? An attack at Grimmauld? Very interesting.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Harry thinks he can handle them- just not both at once. He'll try slipping out, annoying Draco deliberately, and so on.

And thank you!

[absynthedrinker.livejournal.com]

The not so subtle tension building is absolutely delicious. I can't wait to see where you're going with this. Wonderful chapter. Thanks


Peace,

Bubba

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I think you'll like Chapter 6, which has some answers for the mystery but also focuses on that tension.

[absynthedrinker.livejournal.com]

Is it already posted?

[bobpotter.livejournal.com]

Well that came out of no where. I'm looking forward to what the spell was and who in the hell is after Harry. Now Harry is passed out in Draco's arm? On the things I could imagine Draco doing now!

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

It does have an origin...one that Harry will be able to figure out.

Draco might have the urge to snatch a few kisses, at the very least.

[nimue-8.livejournal.com]

But, what about little Mary waiting for Mediwizard Frodo?
And what just happened? Was Harry attacked? Who knowa that he used the heart's blessing?
It was nice to see Draco caring for him, even though Harry doesn't appreciate it yet!

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Well, Harry might wake up quickly, in which case he could still keep his promise to Mary.

Harry was cursed, in the middle of the back. Draco doesn't yet know what spell it was, and Harry isn't awake to diagnose it.

And thank you.

[aldehyde.livejournal.com]

cripes, someone attacked harry at his home! how did they get through the protective wards? is it someone close to harry who knows how to disable them?

the change in draco's flirting tactics was a lot of fun, as was the conversation between draco, ron and hermione. looking fwd to the next chapter.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

The house is warded, and you'll receive an answer to that question in the next chapter.

And thank you!

[helenadax.livejournal.com]

I love this fic, it´s very funny. And now they´re living together! With Hermione´s approval!! XD I can see a lot of fights coming...

And now someone has attacked Harry. But the person who cursed Lucius is in the jail, isn´t he? Maybe this new enemy doesn´t have nothing to do with Lucius´ curse or maybe he´s one of Harry´s ex-lovers, (a very aggresive one) or Smythe isn´t actually a vengative father, but something darker. There are lots of possibilities.

"“Come when I call you.”

Malfoy bowed. In his grace, Harry saw the strongest impression of Lucius he’d encountered yet. “A skill I haven’t yet had the pleasure to learn, but would be more than happy to master for you,” he murmured."

I love this part! XD You have awesome lines in this chapter.

And I wonder what kind of debt is that.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Draco will do his best to make the fights lead to sex. :)

Oh, yes, lots of possibilities. The lack of direct information on the case, thanks to Harry irritating Julius, means that's especially likely.

And thank you!

[star-faerie.livejournal.com]

Oh that was pure brilliance!!!!

Poor Harry, he can't seem to escape people who want to manage him. lol.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Hermione would say that if Harry took better care of himself, he wouldn't have so many people who want to manage him.

[carollinali.livejournal.com]

Look at this, a lovely surprise waiting for me after my trip!

Again Lo, I love this plot, and Draco is so cleverly funny! And I really like medi Harry. It is such a change from other HP/DM fanfictions.

And I loved Ron's reactions XD Great scene.

[melonbutterfly.livejournal.com]

Haha, Harry fell faster into attraction with Draco than I thought he would! But then again, this isn't supposed to be as long as 'Changing of the Guard', you said, so I shouldn't be surprised xD
I wonder who tried to curse Harry - and why Harry didn't have wards... or maybe he did but they weren't strong enough; but someone would have to be very angry and hateful for that... and it's Harry. Maybe it was Julius or Xavier, who saw Draco and kinda flipped? I think both would be capable of doing so (with their past actions).

Insert "yay still more to read"-comment here x)

[yaoi-ezi.livejournal.com]

Wow I can't believe someone already tried to hurt Harry. He just cast the spell on Lucius and he's already under attack! You always manage to come up with such interesting stories!

[tray-la-la.livejournal.com]

hermione and draco ganging up on harry was priceless. and lol at ron covering his eyes!

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!