[From Litha to Lammas]: Like the Fox, Like the Phoenix, Like a Malfoy series, gen, 4/6

[lomonaaeren]

Narcissa hummed under her breath as she stepped back from the cauldron and breathed in the swirling fumes of the finest potion she had ever made. It was a soft silvery color on the surface, but underneath, it shone with the same luster as the black pearls around her neck.

Narcissa touched them again, smiling. She would really have to thank Sirius for such a thoughtful and inspired gift.

And she knew just how to do it. This potion would give Sirius free passage through the Malfoy wards, and make sure that he would be able to remain undetected by the common alarms that Lucius and Regulus might bring to bear. He could be waiting here to welcome the boys once they came home from school.

Such a nice surprise for the boys. And for Regulus. The brothers would be able to talk, and get rid of this silly misunderstanding that had cropped up between them.

Narcissa sang to herself as she ladled the potion into a silver goblet. She would have to make sure that everything was perfect, before she bound the goblet in enchanted silver wire and handed it to an owl to take to Sirius.

And then she could welcome her cousin home—to one of the many homes that he would have.

*

Draco didn’t understand the nature of the place they were fighting in. Sometimes it looked like a copy of the dining room at home, and sometimes like a dungeon corridor at Hogwarts, and it flickered randomly back and forth between them.

But he understood as much as he needed to. Henry was beside him, his soul entwined with Draco’s, the way it had been during the ritual. The way it must have been before they were born.

Kill him!

Draco had never thought much about killing. His fantasies of conquering his enemies revolved around humiliating them in some way that other people would laugh at, and their never coming near him again.

But he agreed totally with Henry. In front of them was a deep, ugly grey smudge across the purity of either home or the part of Hogwarts that Draco was most at home in, and that meant they needed to destroy it.

Scrub it clean.

*

Riddle’s soul was diadem-shaped, but a far uglier version of it than the one that Harry had put on his head. It wavered back and forth and made loud hissing sounds of displeasure. Harry refused to listen to them, even if he could still understand Parseltongue.

Destroy him.

He and Draco flung pulses of magic against the intruder, sometimes things that looked like spells and sometimes things that were bright blue or green or silver and were the shape of the grey diadem. Harry pushed and pushed, and the coiling power of twin souls expanded until it was bigger than the smudge Riddle had created.

The Horcrux screamed. And then it darted away from them, towards the far edge of the battlefield that looked like a stone room scattered with glass shards from the wall that Harry had smashed asunder.

It’s heading for my body!

Harry snarled and followed the diadem. He was not going to let it possess Draco. He was going to do—he was going to do something—

It occurred to him that Draco’s spell ought to mean that their souls were joined no matter how far apart he and Draco were. And that meant—

Harry pushed Draco out of his own mind, back into Draco’s body. And he sent his magic fleeting after his twin, so that they could battle Riddle there.

*

Draco found himself standing in a much more familiar place than the constantly changing field where they had battled Riddle so far, this time in his own bedroom in the Manor. He knew all the dark corners here, all the places where he had hidden from his parents or house-elves when he was young, all the broken toys, all the secret tears.

And he knew what did not belong.

He whirled and smashed his own mirror with his magic. There was a shriek, and black smoke bubbled up and floated around near the ceiling for a moment before it dived towards him, growing claws.

Draco backed up, part of him fluttering in panic and feeling as if it might tear open his chest like a shard of glass—

And then Henry was there, in between him and Riddle, shining with a brilliant blue light that hurt Draco’s eyes. He turned himself into a beast that seemed to be a griffin at one point, a dragon at another, then a hippogriff, and reared up.

Draco couldn’t let his brother fight alone. He sculpted himself into a dragon, in honor of his name, and spread his wings. Cool white fire poured of his mouth, rage and defiance and rejection, and Riddle screamed again as the flames hit him.

I am Draco Malfoy. Henry Malfoy is my twin brother. I have no desire to wear a Horcrux or serve the Dark Lord.

Flee from me!

*

Harry didn’t think it was his imagination that the smoke that made up Riddle’s Horcrux was more tattered than before, smaller. He didn’t have much hope that they could actually destroy the Horcrux without Fiendfyre or a ritual of the kind that Mother and Father had set up with all the Black family.

But they could make it think that taking over one of them was too hard to do.

Flee, flee, he thought at the Horcrux, echoing the thoughts that he sensed coming from his twin. We reject you utterly. We hate you. I destroyed you when I was a baby, and that was the free-willed part of you that wasn’t imprisoned in a diadem for years. I’ll destroy you again.

At the same time he was thinking that, Harry was trying to nudge another thought forwards. He didn’t know much about Occlumency, not nearly as much as Riddle probably did, but he’d had a few days of being possessed to know something about how to make his mind overlap with someone else’s.

Maybe I’ll get tired. Maybe destroying Voldemort is what I have to do, but destroying his Horcruxes is too much trouble, as long as they don’t try to possess anyone I know. Maybe I wouldn’t care if the diadem possessed someone I didn’t know.

Harry didn’t know if he could be convincing. He thought his own bone-deep commitment to destroying the Horcrux might still be there. But he tried to feed the thoughts, and he grew his own claw-scratches in his griffin form to be as huge and heavy as the flame that dragon-Draco was breathing, and he hoped.

The Horcrux, after all, probably feared death as much as the original Voldemort did. Tricks that focused on that might work with it where they wouldn’t with someone else, because it would always rather take a chance that would let it survive than one that would endanger it.

The grey shape of the diadem vanished.

Draco crouched and turned back into a human, staring wildly around. An analogue of his wand was in his hand, a shimmering bolt of bright silver power, like the spell he’d cast on Harry-Riddle to reveal the truth. “Where did it go?”

“Let me go back into my body. Make sure of something.”

Draco looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end, he nodded. Probably he knew as well as Harry did that with their souls joined, they could come back together in a moment if the Horcrux was still a danger.

Harry forced himself into his body in a wave of magic that he didn’t remember learning how to do, but he did it anyway. He forced his eyes open, and there—

There it was, lying on the stones of the corridor where Draco had attacked him. The silvery, tarnished diadem with the sapphire on the front.

Harry didn’t even know where it had been until then. Maybe it had been with him all the time, and Riddle had just used spells to prevent other people from seeing it and his control over Harry’s mind to keep him from sensing it.

Harry wanted to snatch it, but he forced himself to conjure a silken bag—luxuriating in the feeling of his limbs moving under his own control—and draped it around the diadem. He heard a single snarl, before it died away into silence. And now he could fully experience the dark, slimy sensation that he had around the diary Horcrux.

It’s all right, Draco, he called to his twin.

Draco hesitated for long moments. Then he opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry swallowed. He couldn’t remember this feeling of being connected to anyone, ever.

Do we have to end the spell?

Of course we do. You’re worried about me right now, but you wouldn’t want me connected to your every thought for days on end, weeks on end, months on end.

Draco sighed and nodded. Then he lifted his wand and cast a sharp motion that Harry didn’t know, although the incantation was only a Finite. Harry gasped as he felt the sensation of parting that dragged sharp fingernails down his soul for a moment.

He might want to experience the spell again someday, but he could do without that particular feeling, thank you very much.

“Where did you even learn that spell?” he asked, rubbing his face. The silken bag that held the diadem rattled a bit, and Harry cast a Sleeping Charm on it, in case that helped, then conjured another bag and double-wrapped the stupid thing.

“I looked it up last year when I thought that people might start getting angry at you for supposedly having entered the Tournament. But it requires casting it when we’re fairly close together in the first place, so I didn’t get to use it then.”

Harry nodded. Then he bowed his head, took a deep breath, and said, “I was really stupid when I decided to touch the diadem without thinking about it. And stupid for feeling the tug and not telling you about it. I’m sorry.”

Draco took a sharp breath and abruptly crossed the distance between them, flinging his arms around Harry. Harry hugged him back, harsh and desperate. Draco leaned on him a little more and breathed, “Why did you touch it in the first place? And the tugging feeling?”

Harry told him about the wall and Mal and the necessity of necromancy, feeling more and more sheepish by the moment. Draco shook his head.

“Do you think the thing was influencing you from a distance? Could it have done that?”

“We don’t know all the things the Horcruxes were capable of,” Harry murmured. “Apparently the diary had a compulsion to make people want to write in it, but the diadem didn’t have the same thing about making me want to wear it. But could it have reached out to me and affected me because I used to be one? Yeah, I think it could.”

Draco nodded. Then he tightened his hug on Harry again and whispered, “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“Harry?”

Harry whipped around, causing Draco to make an undignified noise as he staggered and nearly fell. Ron and Hermione were standing behind him. Hermione had her hand across her mouth. Ron was staring as if he didn’t know what to do next.

“What’s a Horcrux?” Hermione whispered. “What diary? What are you talking about? You were one? What?”

Harry swallowed. He hadn’t told his friends about this because his parents had said not to, but also for their own safety. Voldemort would tear them apart if he even thought they knew. Not to mention what would have happened if they had talked to Dumbledore.

“Mate.” Ron took a deep breath. “I get that something happened, but we’re going to need an explanation.”

“My brother was just possessed,” Draco said coolly, stepping away from Harry. “I’ll explain to you, but maybe you could let him sit down first?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said, and smiled a little at Harry as he stepped back. It was tremulous. “Are you all right, Harry? I’m so sorry we didn’t notice—”

“Obliviate.”

The Memory Charm hit Hermione so hard that it made her stagger. Ron was still opening his mouth to protest when it hit him, too. They both stood there with glazed eyes and slightly parted lips.

Harry swallowed.

“You know we had to do that,” Draco said, not looking at him as he stepped forwards and focused on Harry’s friends.

“I—yes—I wouldn’t have wanted them knowing about—”

“Don’t say the word, or it might affect how the charm takes.”

Harry cut himself off, feeling foolish. Draco visibly thought for a moment, and then began speaking, just when Harry thought he could see Hermione beginning to shake off the effects of the charm.

“You came around the corner and heard Henry and me talking about how he’d been possessed by a Dark object that a Slytherin student hid in the school long ago. You were shaken by the fact that you didn’t notice, and apologized. Now you’re going to concentrate on supporting Henry, and trust him and me to send the artifact to our parents, who will destroy it.”

Hermione shuddered hard and raised a hand to her temple, blinking. “Did—did something hit me?”

“What about me?” Ron sounded aggrieved. Harry stepped a little to the side so that he could hide the bag the diadem was in.

“I think it’s a lingering effect of the item that possessed Henry.” Draco grimaced. Harry had to admit he was impressed his brother could act this way after the experience they’d just had. “We really need to get it up to the owlery and away to Father as soon as possible.”

“Is he going to destroy it, or just keep it?” Ron demanded.

Draco’s face went cold and shuttered. He stepped back and looked at Harry. “I think we’re done here. Coming, Henry?”

There was a challenge in his eyes. Harry took a deep breath. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with Draco about whether the Memory Charm was the right course of action, but he also wasn’t going to argue with him about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think we are.” He smiled apologetically at his friends, who looked upset. “I promise, Ron, Father will destroy it.”

“How do you know that?”

“The same way I know you would.”

Ron turned pale, but Hermione was the one who said, “Stop it, both of you! Harry was just possessed. I think we can be a little understanding.” She gave Harry a smile that had edges of uncertainty to it. “And I don’t want to fight. Again.”

Harry nodded. He’d been reminded of the argument with Hermione last term, too, and he didn’t want to go through that. “All right. Draco and I will take this up to the owlery and send it off right away with Hedwig. We’ll wrap a few more spells around it to keep her safe.” Although Harry didn’t think a Horcrux could possess an owl, he also didn’t want to find out.

“Fine,” Ron muttered, and scrubbed his hand across his elbow. “Merlin, I think I can still feel the stinging of whatever that thing was trying to do.”

“Are you sure that there aren’t any other objects like that, Harry?”

Harry gave her a reassuring, vague answer, and started walking towards the owlery with Draco and the silken bags. He thought of a number of things he could say, but in the end, he didn’t want to say any of them, so he just stayed silent.

“No scolding for the Memory Charm?”

Harry nibbled his lips and kept his gaze focused resolutely ahead. Draco sounded like he could start getting upset any second. Snide, sneering, all the bad things that Ron said about Slytherins and Harry had once believed before he found out about his family.

“No,” he said at last. “We couldn’t have explained it to them, and I don’t trust them not to go to Dumbledore. Or Hermione not to, at least.”

“He can learn. Stun me with a Wingardium Leviosa.”

Harry snorted despite himself and hit Draco with an elbow in the side. “You just made that up. That’s not a real saying.”

“Would I dishonor our noble heritage that way/”

“If it was for a joke? Or convincing me to believe you and say something that would make me look stupid? Absolutely.”

“We’re not the Weasley twins.”

They bickered most of the way to the owlery, where Draco wrote the letter that Hedwig would carry while Harry cast all the shielding and protective charms he knew on the silken bags so that the diadem couldn’t break free. When he handed the package to Hedwig, she bobbed her head and listened to his warnings carefully.

“Don’t let anyone except Father touch that bag,” Harry told her. If something was going on with Mother, or even if she was just distracted preparing this surprise for them, whatever it was, Harry didn’t want to take any chance that she might be possessed.

“I think she’s smart enough to understand that, Henry,” Draco said, holding out the letter. He carried around ink and quills and parchment, of course, because why wouldn’t he?

As they watched Hedwig wing away, and Draco gripped his hand tightly for a moment, Harry wondered if he ought to start doing that himself.

He wondered lots of things, including how much he had changed since he had become Henry Malfoy.

But he no longer worried, as he once used to, that he would become corrupted because of it.

*

“Thank you for bringing me the notice of this, Miss Granger.”

“I didn’t know if Harry or Draco would, so I wanted to tell you.”

Albus sighed as he looked into Miss Granger’s bright, earnest eyes. She wanted to do good more supremely than most students he knew. It wasn’t her fault that she had been born into a particularly trying time, or a particularly hard one for Muggleborns.

Or that he had made mistakes with Harry that had damaged her friendship with the boy.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll make sure that there aren’t any more artifacts lying around that could possess students, especially not from Slytherins.” Especially not from one particular Slytherin.

Miss Granger tripped off, and Albus leaned back and closed his eyes. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley hadn’t stumbled on the Malfoy twins’ conversation early enough to hear exactly what the artifact was, only that it had very definitely possessed Harry. But he was free of it now, and it seemed that they had Draco Malfoy to thank.

Albus felt an old, uncomfortable feeling stir in his stomach. When he was a child, what he had hated the most was apologizing.

He felt, now, that he owed the Malfoys one, which was even more uncomfortable than usual.

Albus didn’t know if they would accept it, but he would send one. He reached for the ink and the quills he needed, smiling a little as Fawkes crooned. At least one person approved.

And if this made it more likely that the Malfoys would share information with him and allow them to form a beneficial alliance against Tom’s return…

Albus would certainly take that.

*

“And you think that the Dark Lord would continue to call you if not for the house-elf magic Kreacher used?”

Regulus grimaced. He couldn’t tell much from the tone of Lucius’s voice. It was calm, balanced, icy. He might have been discussing the pattern of roses on the china they were using for breakfast that morning.

“He might assume that he was mistaken and the person who entered the Ministry wasn’t me,” Regulus said. “But yes, I think he’ll continue to call. And Kreacher can’t hold back the summons forever.”

At the moment, Kreacher had returned to Grimmauld Place, and he had looked better this morning than he had last night. Regulus didn’t know how long that would last. He didn’t know if Kreacher would need to keep coming to Malfoy Manor during the evenings, and what would happen if Sirius noticed that.

It seemed to him that he knew very little, and even less that was worth knowing.

“I see.” Lucius took a long sip from his cup and put it down. “I promised Henry that I would not use necromancy again.”

Regulus blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“We must disembody the Dark Lord so that he cannot continue to call you. He was never able to summon me or anyone else when he was in wraith form. This is the only way to protect you.”

Regulus opened his mouth and then closed it. He would never have suspected that Lucius would do this. It seemed out of character with the man who had drilled Regulus so relentlessly in the Dark Arts and rarely given him a holiday.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It—you—I thought you were colder than this. That you would suggest—I don’t know, cutting off my arm and having it regrown the way you did to get rid of the Mark.”

“We do not have enough time for that.”

Regulus breathed a little easier. Yes, this was more like the man he knew. Lucius dealt eminently in practicalities, little in other things, although Regulus supposed he might be different with his family.

Then again, Regulus was Narcissa’s beloved cousin, which was why Lucius was doing this at all.

“There is another alternative to potentially disembody the Dark Lord that does not involve necromancy,” Lucius continued, his words clicking like Gobstones flung at opponents. “But it does involve sacrifice.”

“You are not going to kill me or Kreacher.”

“Why would I?”

Regulus clenched his teeth and leaned back in his chair. Evidently, he had lost some of his ability to tell when someone was serious while he was under the lake, or—well, maybe more to the point, he just didn’t understand someone like Lucius.

I am glad there are not more people like him.

“It would only drive you away from us, and that is the last thing Narcissa would want.” A shadow fleeted across Lucius’s face when he mentioned Narcissa, but it was gone before Regulus could ask about it. “I have chosen my sacrifice already.”

“Who?”

Lucius paused for an instant, then shrugged. “No one you have come into contact with.”

Regulus paused, too. That wording was obviously careful, but Regulus couldn’t make out what it suggested. That this was someone Regulus knew of, but hadn’t met? Someone who was their enemy, perhaps a Death Eater who had joined the Dark Lord after Regulus had vanished?

Then he saw the glint in Lucius’s eyes, and decided that there were some things he honestly didn’t need to know. He dipped his head. “I appreciate your taking care of this, Lucius.”

“You are welcome, cousin.”

Lucius stood and swept from the dining room, while Regulus stared at the green glow around his Mark and wondered which innocent person he had condemned to death. Or less than innocent? Would he actually care if it was another Death Eater?

No, I probably wouldn’t.

Maybe I’m more like Lucius than I thought.

*

“Dear? What are you doing with that bag?”

Lucius turned and smiled at Narcissa. He noticed the way that her eyes seemed a little glazed even as she smiled and spoke to him, and his gut clenched in hatred of the one who had done this to her, so intense that he would not have been surprised to hear of Fiendfyre consuming the house where Black hid.

“I received it as a gift from Draco. He thought that I might like something from a corner deep in the dungeons he investigated, along with Henry. It’s nice to see our children getting along, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. There was a time that I feared dearest Draco would feel like he was in Henry’s shadow, but of course he should know how much we love him…”

She babbled on, and Lucius watched her with grief tearing at his insides. She sounded like someone empty-headed and concerned with little else than minding her children, not the woman he had married who delighted in bloodshed.

He suspected she was possessed, as Draco’s letter had said Henry had been. The problem was, he had cast detection spell after detection spell at those bloody black pearls, and nothing had been revealed, not even when he had tried some of the charms his father had invented.

Lucius did not dare remove the pearls until he knew exactly what the possession entailed and how to free her from it. For all he knew, the pearls were drinking from her life-force in some manner he couldn’t see, and taking them would kill her.

When Narcissa drifted out of his study, Lucius tightened his hold on the silken bags he held and swung them into a lead-lined casket on his desk. The snarling from the trapped Horcrux faded as the lid clicked shut.

He could not save his wife at the moment, but he would save her cousin, so that Narcissa could be delighted when she returned to herself.

Lucius smiled at the casket, at the diadem that was the treasure of Ravenclaw and a Horcrux of the Dark Lord.

The sacrifice of a shard of his soul should drive him out of his body.