Chapter Fifteen of 'The Onyx in Radiance'- Acceptance

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Chapter Fifteen—Acceptance

Orion wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. He couldn’t be, not when Harry had managed to notice him trying to recruit Abraxas Malfoy.

But Orion couldn’t be around all the time. In particular, he took Ancient Runes, which neither Harry nor Malfoy did. And that meant Harry had time to catch Malfoy’s attention one day just outside the Slytherin common room.

“Hey, Malfoy. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Malfoy glanced at him, and his eyes widened. It really was remarkable how much he looked like Draco, Harry thought idly. Although he supposed that the fashion of the robes was different, and maybe this Malfoy’s eyes were a different color than Draco’s, too. It wasn’t like Harry had spent a lot of time staring into either pair.

“Um, of course,” Malfoy said, his smile frozen on his face. “I just…” He glanced towards the door, as though hoping it would open and someone would come out and save him from the mad Potter. But no one came out, and Malfoy turned around with a martyred little sigh.

Harry struggled to hang onto his smile. That sigh reminded him of Draco—

No, wait. That Malfoy would have made a much more dramatic production of being upset, and wouldn’t have held his silence this long. Harry gave himself an internal shake. He couldn’t complain to himself all the time that the past was different and then act as if it was exactly the same as the future.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I heard a rumor,” Harry said, and lowered his voice, casting a Privacy Charm around them. Malfoy looked a little more at ease. Maybe part of his disquiet at talking with Harry had just been worry that someone else would overhear. “That you know the truth about Riddle’s heritage.”

Malfoy’s hands clenched in front of him. Then he opened them and said, “I can neither confirm nor deny that one way or the other.”

Harry blinked. He had been hopeful when he’d heard the rumor, thinking that if he could just spread it around, the Slytherins would take care of breaking themselves free from Riddle’s control, and Harry wouldn’t have to do anything about it. But Malfoy must have been afraid that saying Riddle was a half-blood who’d grown up in the Muggle world would come back to bite him. “Oh, okay,” he muttered, and lowered the Privacy Charm. “Never mind then.”

“Wait, Potter.”

Harry glanced curiously over his shoulder. He’d been going to return to the library and his studies of time travel books, but Malfoy had a new note in his voice, one Harry hadn’t heard before. “Yeah?”

“How do you know about Riddle’s background? It’s not like you were in Slytherin when he was a first-year being called a Mudblood.”

Harry half-smiled. “You know how not a lot of people know where I was before I joined your year? And how I tried to go by Evans at first instead of Potter?”

“Yes?”

“It has to do with that.”

Once again, Harry turned to walk away, and once again, Malfoy turned him around, but this time, it was because he’d raced down a short stretch of corridor to get in front of Harry. Harry halted and blinked at him. Malfoy had an odd expression on his face, almost desperate.

“Do you—do you have the ability to oppose Riddle?” he whispered. “Connections to the Potter family that could do it? I know they’re not as wealthy as mine is, but they’re pretty loaded, what with the potions that Fleamont invented.”

“No, sorry. Or why would I have tried to go by a different name?”

Malfoy slumped. Harry patted his shoulder. He didn’t want to say he could do nothing, since Orion was out there trying to recruit people, including this one, to his cause, but if Malfoy was looking for someone who was wealthy and powerful in political connections, he was out of luck.

“Wait.”

Harry concealed a sigh, wondering how many times Malfoy would hold him up. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t say that you couldn’t oppose Riddle.” Malfoy squinted at him. “You just said that you didn’t have the connections to the Potter family that could do it. What do you have, if not political connections?”

Raw power, Harry wanted to say. No fear. But the first one wasn’t true, given that Riddle was stronger than Harry and they both knew it, and the last one wasn’t fair to hold over the Slytherins’ heads. He couldn’t really explain why he wasn’t afraid of Riddle, anyway.

“I used to deal with bullies,” he settled for saying. “I didn’t like them, and I didn’t always win, but I didn’t take what they could give out lying down, either.” Harry held back a chuckle. In a way, Dudley and Snape and Malfoy—Draco—had been good training for facing Voldemort. “I suppose I don’t want to let Riddle win, either.”

Malfoy scrutinized him intently, and whispered something, his lips barely moving. Harry thought it was, “Is that all it takes?”

“Not all it takes,” Harry muttered, remembering Ginny being possessed by the diary, and his mum standing in front of him offering her life, and Sirius running into danger to protect Harry without a thought. “But I’d say it’s the first step.” He didn’t say the rest of the things that were running through his head, because Slytherin wasn’t Gryffindor, and these Slytherins didn’t know how bad Riddle would get and feel they had to oppose him because of that. Judging other people by his own standards wasn’t fair.

Malfoy was giving him a very weird and very intent look. Not as weird as Orion’s, thank Merlin. Harry had no idea what the hell went on in Orion’s head half the time. Then he shook his head and muttered, “I wonder where my pride went.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s terrified of him. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

From the way Malfoy reared back, Harry wondered if his words contained some kind of insult. But Malfoy swallowed and murmured, “No one has ever said that to me.”

“Well, it’s true,” Harry said, and patted Malfoy’s shoulder gingerly, and walked away, prepared to ignore Malfoy if he got another call to come back. The library was practically shouting his name now.

But Malfoy said nothing. Harry thought he could feel the Slytherin staring at him, sure, but that wasn’t the same thing.

And at last Harry could get away from weird Slytherins and back to the library and his research to find a way to go home.

*

Orion steps carefully out of the way when the Aurors come through the Floo. There are five of them, which is more than he thought Dumbledore summoned, but perhaps hearing about a Dark artifact and a potential murder charge made them cautious.

One of them makes a spitting sound when Dumbledore holds up the ring. “Is that a Horcrux?”

“I believe it may be,” Dumbledore says gravely.

Orion notices that Harry has backed off into a corner of the Headmaster’s office, close to the fireplace and not easily noticeable, and is watching with a keen but quiet expression. He keeps more of his attention on Riddle than anything else.

Probably a smart idea, Orion has to admit. He edges sideways so that he stands next to Harry and murmurs, “Do you not want them to notice you? Did you have some trouble with the Aurors before you came to Hogwarts?”

Harry starts and blinks at him for a minute. Then he shakes his head. “No. I just don’t think I have any other part to play unless they need to question me.”

Orion has his suspicions about that, but in that moment, one of the Aurors turns around and steps towards them with a curious look on her face. She’s a tall woman with blonde hair and slightly protruding blue eyes. Harry catches his breath in what sounds like a gasp.

That doesn’t convince Orion that Harry has never been in trouble with the Aurors before, but it doesn’t matter. The Black family will defend its own, and it’s not as though Harry would be the first one of them to have ever done something illegal when in Hogwarts.

“I understand that you’re the one who first reported Mr. Riddle for using Dark Arts?” the Auror asks Harry, and gives him a slightly odd smile. “What alerted you to it? Was he drawing runes in blood?”

“No,” Harry says slowly. “He created a cage with a spell that formed around one of the third-years in our House who I wanted to protect. And he said the cage couldn’t be broken without a sacrifice of pain. So I thrust my hand through the bars to break it, and it did this to me.” He holds up his hand.

The Auror makes a sucking sound with her teeth. “So no blood runes. What about blood sacrifice? Was he doing that?”’

“Only pain sacrifice that I’m aware of,” Harry says, looking a little dazed.

Orion leans forwards and smiles at the Auror. “Is the evidence against Riddle insufficient? Do you need him to have done something worse than what’s he done already?”

“What?” The Auror blinks at Orion as if wondering where he came from. “Oh, no. The evidence is enough to land him in Azkaban once he comes of age.”

“Then why the questions?”

“I am dedicated to the need to expose the use of blood magic in our society,’” the Auror says, lowering her voice a little. “If you knew how many people are walking around looking like normal citizens when really they use blood magic to—”

“Auror Lovegood, stop bothering the boys,” another one of them calls. “We have enough testimony from the adults at the moment. We might need Mr. Potter to testify when Riddle goes to trial, but for now, Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve memories will do.”

Auror Lovegood sighs as though the other Auror has torn her away from an important duty, and lowers her voice to whisper, “I’m sure that Auror Dandy is one of those trying to keep blood magic from being exposed in our society.” Then she wanders away before Dandy can call her again.

Orion glances at Harry. He’s swallowing and still staring after the Auror as though she’s done something stranger than she did—maybe offering to teach him blood magic instead of asking about it. “Are you all right, Harry?”

Harry nods slowly. “She reminds me of someone I know, that’s all. Knew, I suppose I should say.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Harry glances at Orion and hesitates. Orion does his best to stand still and maintain a calm, open expression on his face, without trying to pressure Harry one way or the other. He’d like it if Harry would spill all his secrets because he trusts Orion never to betray him, but they aren’t there yet.

“Not right now,” Harry says, lowering his voice. “But when we get out of here and Riddle’s been taken to the Ministry, I do have something to tell you.”

Orion smiles.

*

“I just wanted to say that you don’t have to feel bound to continue this.”

Orion frowns curiously at Harry, who decided to leave the raucous celebration of Riddle’s departure in the Slytherin common room to have this private talk with him. Harry looks oddly nervous. If he’s made up his mind to tell Orion his secrets, he should probably have looked more relaxed.

“You don’t have to tell me everything yet if you don’t want to,” Orion says soothingly. “Space it out. I want you to be comfortable with what you tell me.”

Harry, who was glancing over his shoulder as if he thought Abraxas or someone else might be coming after them, sighs and faces him. Now the nervousness is gone, and he wears a look of shining determination. He crosses his arms. Orion’s eyes go to his blackened hand, although he doesn’t think Harry was deliberately trying to draw attention to it.

He won’t have to worry about that, either. Father can pay for the best Healers.

“I mean that you don’t have to feel bound to continue courting me,” Harry says. “I know that you allied with me in the first place because you were worried about Riddle and thought I was more powerful than he was. Well, he’s gone, now. It might be that we’ll have to worry about him sometime in the future, but never the way we did. You’ll probably be a grown adult by the time you meet him again. You don’t—you don’t have to feel that you need to pay me for protecting you by courting me or something. And you don’t need to worry about me not being your friend. I still will.”

Orion blinks. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Harry would think that way, he decides after a moment. There are other people in Slytherin House who would act like that, and who would be grateful to back out of a courtship with a half-blood once they felt they didn’t need him anymore.

But Orion isn’t that kind of person. At least, he isn’t that kind of person where Harry is involved.

“Harry.”

Harry had his mouth open to say something else, but he closes it now and eyes Orion skeptically.

“Why did you accept my courtship in the first place, if you thought it was like that? Do you want me to go on doing it, or not?”

“I—I—”

Orion waits. There’s a bit of pain pulsing in the center of his chest, but if Harry refuses to continue their courtship now, he’ll back off and try again at some later time, when he’s proven to Harry that he can be a good friend. And Harry is floundering instead of giving Orion the confident answer Orion was sure he’d get.

“I liked it.”

Orion blinks. Harry looks up at him, and his face is pale, but at least he’s speaking again.

“I’ve been lonely here in Hogwarts, and before that, I was—well, there were people who didn’t believe me no matter what I said.” Harry shrugs, staring at the floor. “I didn’t believe you at first when you said you wanted to be my friend, and when I did and started to feel I could trust you, I didn’t—I thought it couldn’t be a bad thing to have someone closer than that. I liked the way you made me feel.”

“Yes?” Orion’s breathing is faster than he’d like, his voice thick. “What was that?”

Harry sighs and looks at the wall as if he can’t believe he’s confessing this, while he mutters, “Treasured.”

Orion smiles and moves closer. Harry eyes him for a second. Orion forces himself to stop and murmur, “There’s no reason that has to end.”

“But you became my friend in the first place to stay safe from Riddle.”

“In the first place. It’s more than that now.”

Harry peers at him and then looks away. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond. Orion reaches behind his back, carefully keeping an eye on Harry in case he starts thinking that Orion’s reaching for his wand, and takes the box that contains the courting gift out of his back robe pocket. The owl that was supposed to deliver it tomorrow flew faster than Orion thought it could.

Harry stares at it blankly when he brings it out. Orion took the chance to fetch the box from his trunk while Harry was talking to other people about Riddle leaving. It’s a little longer than his two hands placed together, made of birch wood, and with the family crest of the Blacks carved on its lid.

“I mean—thanks, Orion. But I have my trunk to keep things in.”

Orion stares himself until he realizes that Harry thinks the box is the gift. He has to stifle laughter then, because Harry would take it the wrong way. “The box isn’t the gift, Harry. What’s inside it is.”

Harry studies him long enough that Orion would have become uncomfortable if this were anyone else. But it’s next to impossible to become uncomfortable around Harry. Harry finally nods and accepts the box from him, flipping back the lid.

His breath audibly catches. Orion hopes that’s a good thing and not a bad one, but from the way Harry’s eyes are shining as he reaches out to stroke the robes, it’s the former.

“No one’s ever bought me robes as a gift before,” Harry murmurs.

Orion should simply keep his mouth shut and smile, but he can’t help the words tumbling out. “I thought you said Professor Dumbledore bought you books and—”

“School robes,” Harry says, his eyes flickering up for a second. “This is different.” He puts the box on the floor and reverently lifts the robes out.

Orion wondered about getting dress robes for Harry, but he thought Harry, who normally wears his school robes askew and at least a little scruffy, might have been embarrassed. Instead, these are thick robes a step in formality below dress ones, of the kind that can be worn to a party or outside in winter, made of thick velvet but with embroidered spells that can charm them cool in a second, and a shade of red so dark that it shimmers like rubies in the light.

And looks black most of the time. Orion has to admit that was a reason for his choice, too.

Harry lifts the robes up and turns them back and forth. He’s smiling, a private, inwards smile that Orion has never seen before. It makes him wonder if it’s the robes that matter to Harry, or the fact that it’s a courting gift, or just because Harry likes gifts and hasn’t received many of them.

He doesn’t know where that last insight comes from, but he knows it’s true the instant he’s thought it. Harry hasn’t had many gifts before. As he said, charity like the school supplies from Professor Dumbledore doesn’t count.

Harry drapes the robes over his arm and strokes the silver fur along the edge of the hood for a second. Then he looks up.

Orion has no idea what to make of the expression on his face, because it isn’t one that he’s seen before, either. Harry takes a step forwards, folding the robes with a flip so they don’t drag on the floor or tangle his legs.

Then he leans forwards and kisses Orion on the lips.

Orion has no chance to do more than feel the light, fast touch, far warmer than he’d have expected, before Harry looks aside and says quietly, “Thanks,” then goes about gathering up the box and the robes. He coughs a second later, while Orion is still speechless. “Do you want to go back to the party now?”

It’s actually the last thing Orion wants. He’d much prefer to stay here and kiss Harry until they’re both breathless. But he forces himself to nod, and Harry walks in front of him with the box tucked under his arm, stroking the lid now and then.

He glances up and smiles at Orion as the door into the common room opens, and Orion feels treasured, himself, by the sight of that smile.