lomonaaeren

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Chapter Seventeen—Articles of War

“Why are you laughing, Daddy? Where’s the funny thing?”

Harry laid down the paper on the table and winked at Jamie. “The funny thing is a joke on that mean woman. You remember? The one who came up to us when we were walking into the school?”

“The one with the big green glasses that hurted her face?”

Harry laughed more freely. “Yes, exactly.” He almost wished he could tell Skeeter what his son thought of her “polished” look, but in reality, he knew that the less contact there was between her and Jamie, the better it would be. “Well, Mr. Draco wrote an article that played a joke on her.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Sapphire hissed a question about the sliced strawberries Jamie was eating for breakfast, and instantly distracted him.

“You are pleased,” said Sela sleepily as she curled her tail around Harry’s throat. She had been in his mind the night before, holding back the nightmares, and while Harry had apologized for that when he woke up, she had reminded him that she could nap during the day, not much of an option for him. “You should be. You deserve to be.” She touched Harry’s cheek with her nose and curled herself closer.

Harry touched her scales, exploring the red patterns that he had only noticed recently looked like flames—or did some of the time. “What makes you happy, that I’m happy or that I’m taking revenge?”

“Both. You are a proper serpent now, and a proper companion for a serpent.”

“Are there are any other tricks you gave me I don’t know about yet? Ones like secreting venom from my hands?”

“How can other tricks be like that? That is itself.”

Harry sighed into his hands. Sela gave something that might have been a raspy, amused hiss on his shoulder, but he didn’t know if she was joking or not. Snakes were literal in a way that meant she might not have been.

“Are we going to the school, Daddy?”

“No school today, kiddo.” Harry got up and came around the table to bend over and kiss Jamie’s forehead. “We’re going to your Grandmama’s house so you can play with your cousins.”

“They don’t talk to me.”

Harry blinked at Jamie in surprise. He was sulking over the table, and that was so unlike him that Harry reached out and gathered him up in a hug. “Hey,” he said softly. “What do you mean? The last time we were over, Dominique played with you, and—”

“They can’t talk to me, Daddy.”

Harry ran his hand over Jamie’s hair. “No, they can’t do it in Parseltongue,” he agreed, deliberately continuing in English. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to them, and play with them.”

“What if they get angry about Sapphire?” Jamie shot a miserable glance in the direction of his snake, who was writhing gently in his bag of water as he tried to get to Jamie.

Harry floated the bag over and waited until Sapphire had hissed a soft reassurance, lifting his head out of the water. “We’ll just tell them that Sapphire is your friend, and they can’t. Do you think anyone would get upset about the fairies that were playing tag in Victoire’s hair last time?” Fleur’s older daughter seemed to attract those fairies regularly, to everyone’s confusion.

Jamie sniffled. “No.”

“So no one will get upset about Sapphire, either.” Harry held him close. “I do want you to go and be able to visit your cousins and Grandmama and Granddad, okay? That’s important.” He felt a little ache in his chest at how unimportant it had seemed to him for the last few years, but pushed that away. Guilt wouldn’t do anyone any good. “It’s important to go to school and learn about your Parseltongue, too, and spend time with Scorpius, but you can’t do that all the time.”

“Okay,” James whispered in Parseltongue. Harry rocked him a bit, and five minutes later he was running cheerful circles and chattering as he remembered all the games he got to play with his cousins.

Harry smiled at his son and herded him in the direction of the bathroom to get washed and dressed.

*

“Harry.”

Harry gritted his teeth and smiled at Angelina, whose face had gone strained. Then he turned around and said, “Ginny.”

Ginny stared at him with big, wary eyes. It was the first time Harry had seen her in person in more than two years. Her hair was braided, a lot longer than it had been, and coiled on her shoulders. Her hands clasped her pregnant stomach as if trying to hide it from him. Seamus was across the garden chatting with Ron and didn’t seem to notice.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked.

“The same thing you are,” Harry said blandly.

Ginny checked at the reminder that they were here to celebrate Bill’s birthday. That was all Harry wanted, really. They couldn’t be friends, but they could be civil, and not upset anyone with their old arguments.

Something inside him was spinning around like a wand when it fell from an opponent’s hand, but he forced himself to stand there and take a sip from the cup of pumpkin juice he was holding. Behind him, Angelina let out a cautious breath.

“Well,” Ginny said a moment later, looking around as if she could spot Jamie in the cluster of Weasley children running around and somehow see that he was evil just from that, “stay away from me and Seamus and my baby.”

Harry bared his teeth. “Stay away from my son.”

Ginny closed her eyes, nodded, and turned her back on him. Harry watched her walk away, and only then became aware that Sela was reared defensively on his shoulder, her mouth slightly open and her gleaming fangs bared. He didn’t know how much of a part that might have played in Ginny backing down. Harry reached up and stroked her neck with one finger. Sela hissed wordlessly and curled around his throat again.

“Thanks for not starting a scene,” Angelina said softly.

There were lots of things Harry could have said to that, including that Ginny had approached him first, but it wouldn’t have served his goal of appearing to be the bigger person. He just nodded, said, “You’re welcome,” and resumed the conversation, talking about some of the more outrageous products that George had asked Angelina to test for him.

Molly caught up with Harry and Jamie as they were leaving. “So it went fine?”

Harry smiled at her. He knew that she meant being at the same party with Ginny. “It did, thanks.” He ruffled Jamie’s hair, accepted Molly’s hugs for them, and then herded Jamie out of the party.

Something, a sensation like a burning potion on his skin, made him look over his shoulder. Ginny was gazing after him with her arms still cradled around her stomach, ignoring Fleur, who was trying to talk to her.

Harry held her gaze for a second. Then he very deliberately rolled his eyes and turned away, missing her next expression, whether that would have been shocked, offended, or something else.

I want to talk to Draco, Harry thought. And while he didn’t want to intrude on a weekend when Draco didn’t have the school to teach, perhaps a Floo call couldn’t go amiss.

*

“Harry.”

Draco knew he was smiling, knew the warmth in his voice was perhaps a bit excessive for a simple Floo call with a friend. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Heat that was far more than just the flames on the hearth had flooded through him when the wards on the Floo had informed him that the dwelling requesting a call had “Potter” in its name.

Harry paused for a second, evaluating him, and then broke into a weary, tender smile that sent Draco’s heart through a dizzy series of beats. “Hi, Draco. I hope I’m not bothering you? I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“You’re never bothering me, Harry.”

Yes, all right, perhaps there was a bit too much of a purr on those last words. Harry blinked, staring at him, and then blushed all over. Draco didn’t care, though, particularly when Harry didn’t make up some excuse to leave. He leaned a little closer, if anything, his eyes darting over Draco’s face as if considering features of it that he’d never seen before.

How interesting. Edwina had woken up and was watching from the crook of Draco’s arm, just as interested.

“First of all, your article on Skeeter was stunning.” Maybe Harry had a bit of a purr to his voice, too. “I would pay so much to see the look on her face when she read it. You can really write, you know that? If running the school doesn’t work out, you could get a job as a reporter with no problems.”

Draco felt as if he had abruptly drunk an entire bottle of Firewhisky. He cleared his throat and hoped that Harry would take the flush on his face as composed entirely of embarrassment, instead of embarrassment, pride, desire, and half a dozen other things. “Thanks,” he croaked.

Harry smiled a little. “How soon do you think she’ll retaliate?”

“I expect something in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Should I be careful about how I bring Jamie to school on Monday?’

“You anticipate a physical attack?” Draco asked quietly, while anger squirmed to life in his stomach. He hadn’t thought Skeeter would go that far. But Harry had more experience with the woman than Draco did.

“I don’t know for sure. But I don’t want to do something that will escalate our war beyond articles, and if she came close to Jamie, or said something he understood too well, or even just touched him…I’m not sure I could control my magic.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Draco murmured. “Yes, come through the Floo. And be cautious about where you go with him in the magical world. I’m sorry. You’re just getting used to going out in public again, and…”

“I don’t always have to have him with me,” Harry said with a jerky shrug. “And I had a test of my self-control today that was mostly in public, and I think I passed it. So I can go along with others.”

“Do tell.”

“Jamie and I went to a party at the Burrow to celebrate his Uncle Bill’s birthday, and Ginny was there.”

Draco felt a vicious cold flood his stomach this time. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah. She told me to stay away from her and Seamus and the baby, and I told her to stay away from my son. And then she seemed to notice the snakes for the first time when we left, and stared at us. I stared back at her. That’s all that happened.”

“But you wanted to talk to someone about it,” Draco murmured.

Harry nodded. “I don’t…how can I still be so angry at her when she didn’t even do anything this time? How can I be upset when I know that I don’t want her back in my life, even if someday I’d like her to be part of Jamie’s?”

“She was your wife. She gave up on her responsibilities as a mother without much attempt to get past her feelings about Parseltongue, as far as I can tell from what you said. She participated in that stupid belief that Parselmouths are evil without a thought, condemning her own toddler son. Why shouldn’t you be angry? And I don’t think she’ll ever be part of Jamie’s life. Don’t force that.”

Harry nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean I should badmouth his mother in front of him, either. In case they do have a relationship someday.”

“Of course you shouldn’t do that. But don’t work so hard on staying neutral. If he asks you what happened when he’s old enough to understand, answer honestly. Don’t bend over backwards to spare her.”

“Even that feels…”

“Selfish? Something you don’t think you deserve to be able to do?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I think I understand you now better than I ever could have.” Draco put up a hand when Harry’s mouth opened. “Hear me out, please.”

Harry nodded and listened. But now that he had silence, Draco found himself stumbling over the words that had been coming so confidently a moment before. He drew several breaths before he could speak.

Harry simply waited, which was the kindest thing he could have done.

“You took the sole blame for what she said onto your shoulders for so long,” Draco murmured. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. But once you’ve picked up that burden, it’s difficult to lay it down. It can feel as if you’re making a mistake by doing so, no matter how rationally you know it isn’t.

“I carried the guilt for the Headmaster’s death on my shoulders for a long time. I didn’t feel as if I were worthy of laying it down.”

“But you weren’t—” Harry said, and shut his own mouth.

Draco waited out the brief interruption, and then went ahead when it seemed likely that Harry was going to remain silent. “I knew that Professor Snape killed him. But I was in that position because of manipulations from—Voldemort, and my mother, and my father, and so many other people who had set the plot to make me a Death Eater in motion. Voldemort wasn’t even thinking of me. He wanted to punish my father, to humiliate him, and to send a message to his other Death Eaters. It took me a long time to realize that, and a longer time to come to terms with it. Being made to feel insignificant and not the center of the universe and all those plans was worse than thinking myself responsible for Dumbledore’s death. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded rapidly. He still remained silent, so Draco smiled a little and waved his hand. “Go ahead.”

“It was almost better when I was able to think Voldemort had started the war just to get to me,” Harry said softly. “It took me so long to realize it was more than that. To acknowledge that Skeeter wrote about me because I was famous and not because she personally hated me. She would have done the same thing if it had been Neville who was the Boy-Who-Lived—”

“Why Longbottom in particular?”

“Oh. Well, Voldemort could be defeated by a child who was prophesized to be born at the end of July. I fit that prophecy, but so did Neville. He was born just a day before me.”

Draco stared at him in silent horror, trying to envision Longbottom as the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry first rolled his eyes at Draco’s silence and then started laughing. “Come on, Draco, he wouldn’t have done that badly. A lot of what I did was with the help of other people, anyway. Or other beings,” he added, and his voice was soft in a way that made Draco decide not to ask about that right now.

“So you do know what it’s like,” Draco said. “You know how difficult it is to shake that preoccupation of yourself as the center of other people’s preoccupations, and move on.”

“Yes. I suppose—I think Ginny probably never spent half as much time thinking of me in the last few years as I did thinking of her. And while I agonized about making sure she and Jamie could have a relationship, she probably never thought about having one.”

Draco had to smile. “Good boy.”

Harry had an interesting reaction to that, from the way his eyes darkened, but he shook it off a second later, to Draco’s almost-disappointment. “Thanks, Draco. And I’m sorry that I called you to talk about my insecurities instead of the article—”

“You know that there’ll be another one, and that this isn’t the sort of war we can end by just writing one. Although I have to admit that your praise of me was nice. That part, you could stand to repeat.”

“Oh?”

Draco had never seen the look on Harry’s face before, although it might have been the one he wore when he was across the Quidditch field chasing the same Snitch. He leaned a little closer to the fire and lowered his voice.

“Besides a good writer, you’re a caring father. Not everyone would have tried to manage the public reputation of Parselmouths to the extent you have just so that their children could feel comfortable when they grew up. And you’re a great administrator. Skeeter can pick at the school all she wants. She’s not going to find any irregularities or illegalities, is she?”

“No.”

Draco could feel a squirming feeling, heat in his belly like that good Firewhisky had come back, and discomfort like ants under his skin. No one, not even his mother, had ever praised him like this.

“She won’t,” Harry repeated, nodding. “Because you’ve taken care of all that, and been careful not to accept bribes or anything stupid. You’ve found good teachers, and I know you’re a good partner to Edwina. Oh, did I mention handsome? You’ve finally grown into those looks that made you resemble an eagle at school—”

“Eagle? I thought you would say ferret.”

“Ferrets are less pointy than eagles.”

Draco laughed, but said, “Is there a point to this?”

“You said you wanted to be praised,” Harry murmured with a perfectly straight face. “I’m just doing as you asked.”

That made other visions rise up in Draco’s head, visions of things that he’d never allowed himself to want or think about. He shuddered and said hastily, “I think—I hear Scorpius calling me. I’ll see you on Monday, Harry.”

“Of course. Have a good weekend, Draco.”

Harry shut down the Floo with a sharp smile that made him more attractive, not less. Draco closed his eyes and leaned his head on the hearth for a moment. Other people had praised him. That hadn’t affected him like this.

“You smell as if you want to mate,” Edwina said unhelpfully.

“Yeah,” Draco whispered, because Scorpius wasn’t around and he did try to have as few secrets from her as possible. “I really, really do.”