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Chapter Twenty-One—A Deadly Dance

Lord Voldemort strode into St. Mungo’s. It was so easy to bypass the guards and wards that should have kept him out, it was almost comical. Almost boring. He did not want to be stopped, exactly, but they should have provided more of a challenge.

On the other hand, he was only here to look at Mr. Grayson’s handiwork and then leave again. He did not have time to fight a duel or deal with whatever other nonsense competent Healers might have subjected him to.

He rode up in a lift that didn’t even have intent wards on it and stepped out into the long-term care section. People spoke in quiet voices here, and more than one person sat on a chair in the corridor with their heads in their hands. Here and there, Lord Voldemort’s keen ears could make out sobs, soft and dry.

He shook his head as he walked into James Potter’s room. A few twitches of his wand made the Healers accept his presence as ordinary, usual.

“Lily?”

Potter’s voice was a broken mess of shards rasping and grinding against each other. Lord Voldemort paused, wondering why the illusions and spells he had used would make Potter see his wife, but then understood when Potter lifted a ravaged face.

The poison had blinded him.

Lord Voldemort smiled, and did not bother to conceal the smile. He did use a spell to alter his voice, however. “No, a Healer, Mr. Potter. I wanted to ask whether you would agree to a course of an experimental potion that might slow the poison’s progress.”

Potter gave a wheezing laugh that went well with his milky, glazed eyes. He looked like an old man, so it was only right that he should sound like one as well. “Are you the same Healer who told me yesterday that nothing could stop it?”

“Come, Mr. Potter, you have survived this long. Do you think the poison will kill you?”

“Yes.”

Although Potter had not been the most bothersome or personal of his enemies in the war, Lord Voldemort still felt a heady surge of joy spread through him. He ducked his head and mumbled his way through an apology while he hid the smile in his voice.

He left after a few more useless words exchanged with Potter, and his step was light as he strode towards the lifts.

Harry Grayson deserved a reward. Of course, he had the favor and protection of Lord Voldemort himself, and the basilisk skin that Lord Voldemort had gifted him with last Christmas, but still.

He deserved all of the finer things in life.

*

“If I could give you some advice, Mr. Grayson?”

Harry smiled tightly. He had agreed to stay after class when Professor Slughorn had requested that he do so, because there was no reason for him to think the professor meant him harm. But seeing the jovial simpering look on Slughorn’s face, he was starting to think he would despise whatever came next.

At least Slughorn did give him a cup of good tea along with the grotesque wink, and Harry didn’t feel the need to cast detection spells on it the way he might have if Lupin had handed him something.

“I just wanted to say congratulations on your courtship.”

“Thank you, Professor Slughorn,” Harry murmured, confiding and low-voiced. “It’s actually two courtships, though.”

“Oh, ho! Did both Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy come to their senses?”

It shocked Harry a little to think that Slughorn had noticed that before he had. But he nodded, eyes shyly cast on the floor. “Yes. Theo gave me a crystal cauldron, and Draco gave me some of the best advice I’ve received.” Who knew whether Draco would have entered into a courtship at all if he hadn’t talked about the crystal cauldron to Harry? Or whether Harry would have recognized the cauldron’s true value?

“And—you can tell me, Mr. Grayson.” Slughorn leaned forwards on his chair, rocking a little in place, even though the chair was an ordinary and sturdy one. “Which one of them do you intend to choose?”

“Why, sir.” Harry widened his eyes, a little amused that he could play Slughorn so easily. “Who’s to say that I know yet?”

Slughorn laughed, making his stomach shake. “That’s the way of it, that’s the way of it! Playing them both against each other and letting one of them think he’s in favor until he does something wrong because of the overconfidence.” He winked at Harry again. “A true Slytherin to the bone, Mr. Grayson, that’s you.”

“Thank you, sir. You know that there are people who still don’t think so. Because of my blood, mostly.”

Slughorn actually rolled his eyes, and Harry blinked. He hadn’t thought that he would ever see the professor doing that when it came to matters of power and Slytherin politics, which he did take seriously. “That’s because some of them can’t see beyond the ends of their noses to recognize real talent. You know that Everett does, don’t you?”

Oh, yes. “Mr. Peverell has been very kind, sir. He’s encouraged me in the projects that I’m doing outside of class and even gifted me with some ingredients.”

Slughorn chuckled and held up his teacup in a toast. “That’s good to hear, Mr. Grayson, very good. But don’t forget who was there first. Who introduced you to Everett, and can introduce you to some others.”

“Of course I won’t, sir.”

Slughorn was content to sip the tea then and gossip about a few of the other professors. Harry steered the conversation to the Potters, but it seemed that all Slughorn knew about James Potter was his continued presence in St. Mungo’s and the way that Professor Potter was distressed over it to the point of losing track of the conversation in staff meetings.

Harry left the classroom content that he and Slughorn understood each other, and also determined to do something more than he had so far.

I made a mistake with the potion. I must have, or Potter would be dead by now. Maybe I didn’t hate him enough.

Maybe the Dark Lord will let me have another chance.

*

Draco stood when he saw Harry walk into the common room. Harry noticed him standing up, and looked at him. A small, pleased smile curved his lips when Draco stepped forwards and gave him a little bow, holding out the wrapped box.

We’ll just see how much Theo and his crystal cauldron are going to compete with this.

Other Slytherins had stopped talking and were staring at them with their mouths open. Draco regally ignored them. They would be kicking themselves for not having the good taste and common sense to court Harry when Draco was done.

Harry accepted the box and gently slit open the silver paper with his wand, gathering it up with another spell when it would have drifted to the floor. Draco smiled as he saw a few people lean forwards. They’d finally noticed that Harry did some spells silently, had they?

Too late. Draco might not have a choice about Theo courting Harry at the same time, but he would fight any other intruders on their courtship.

“Wow, Draco.”

Draco half-smiled and tilted his head towards Harry as he held up the gleaming silver telescope. “Do you like it?”

“Of course. It—it can let me see stars in the daytime, right?” Harry slid reverent fingers along the barrel of the telescope.

“It can.” It had also cost a fortune, and although Harry had no particular passion for Astronomy as far as Draco knew, the telescope could help with the brewing of some potions that demanded particular astral configurations. This way, Harry wouldn’t have to stay up late at night to make sure those configurations were correct.

Over on the couch where he sat and watched, Theo was turning purple. Draco grinned at him and then turned back to bask in the awed expression on Harry’s face.

“Thank you so much.” Harry lowered the telescope and smiled at Draco, and Draco wished he could lean forwards and steal a kiss. But they weren’t at that point in their courtship yet, and Harry might not want it to happen in public anyway. “Thank you,” Harry repeated. “I’ll treasure it.”

And that was as formal an acceptance of the courtship gift as Draco needed, even if not exactly in the traditional words. Draco beamed. “You’re welcome. Thank you for considering my intentions towards you, offered in all humility.”

Harry watched him with that sweet smile that Draco thought he might do anything for, and then turned and walked up the stairs towards their dormitory, cradling the telescope in his hands as he did so. Draco offered a flourishing bow to the people staring at him, and then went and sat down where he’d been before, to patiently help Goyle with his homework.

Unfortunately, that just meant he made a better target for Theo, who had strode towards him with a pace just short of frantic. “Can I talk to you?” Theo asked between clenched teeth.

Draco gazed up at him with a beatific smile. “Of course, Theo. Will you be all right doing some of these problems on your own, Greg?”

Greg’s eyes flitted back and forth between Draco and Theo for a few moments, uncertain, before he nodded. “Yeah, Draco.”

Draco stood up and walked with Theo to a shadowed corner near the door where they would be able to see anyone approaching them easily. Then he turned around and raised an eyebrow at his “friend.” “Yes?”

“You know that he values the cauldron more as a gift,” Theo said instantly. “You know that the telescope will only be a help to him a few times a year, if that.”

“I know that. And I know the way he smiled at me when I gave it to him.”

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t get to see his reaction to your cauldron, did you?” Draco let his own smile widen, and clucked his tongue a little. He could see Greg ducking his head further over the table, probably thinking that drawing attention from either Draco or Theo right now would be a bad idea. “That’s because you decided to send it from a distance and didn’t even explain to him that it was a courting gift. I was the one who told him about that. He trusts me. He accepts my gifts and smiles at me in a way that he never has at you.”

Somewhat to Draco’s surprise, Theo didn’t draw his wand and try to duel him. He only stared intensely at Draco, his fingers tapping his thigh.

Then he turned and walked away.

Draco blinked, a little unnerved, staring after him. That’s it? I thought Theo was more competitive than that.

“Um, can you help me with this equation, Draco?”

Draco nodded and turned back to Greg. He honestly didn’t know why Greg was taking Arithmancy, except that his father had insisted.

And in the meantime, Draco tried to figure out if he was happy to have a clear path to Harry’s side, or not.

*

“Can I speak with you, Harry?”

“Of course.” Harry stepped back from the cauldron he had been staring into in the private room off the dungeon corridor and looked at Theo with his head cocked and a whimsical smile on his lips.

Theo wished he could be sure that the smile was the same one as Harry had given Draco, but he couldn’t think of a polite way to ask. He smiled tightly back and stepped into the room. “You aren’t using your crystal cauldron?”

“Oh, right now I’m only brewing ahead for Slughorn’s class. That cauldron deserves special potions.”

“You like it, then.”

“Of course I do. Did someone tell you that I didn’t?”

Theo swallowed and decided that if he had to tear his chest open to expose his bleeding heart—which was what this felt like—then he’d do it. Harry was worth it. “Draco mentioned something about how you probably liked the telescope he gave you better because of the way you reacted to it.”

“I don’t like it better. I was surprised that Draco gave me the gift in public.”

“Even though that’s the way courting gifts are supposed to be presented?”

“Not the second one, though. The first one, if possible, but that’s just as likely to be presented in private.”

“You’ve been doing some reading.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Harry’s tone was mild, but his eyes sharp and direct enough that Theo had to fight the temptation to take a step back and raise his hands. “Of course not. I just didn’t know where you would find the time with all the other things that you research.”

“A lot of it is Potions, and most of my theory is solid enough at this point that I don’t have to spend time researching every ingredient interaction.” Harry’s tone sharpened again. “What do you want to do, Theo?”

“What?”

“With your life. What do you want to do? I assume Draco is going to go into politics or be one of the idle rich, he doesn’t talk about anything else except possibly becoming a professional Quidditch player, but what about you?”

It was the first time anyone had asked him that question. Well, except Father, technically, but Father had assumed he already knew the answers and was just feeling out Theo’s aptitudes for the kind of academic work that would make him excellent at managing the Nott wealth.

Theo breathed out slowly. He had an ambition that was hidden. He had never revealed it to anyone, for fear of what they would say.

But—

Harry is worth it.

“I’m interested in combining Arithmancy and Astronomy.”

Harry paused for a long moment. Then he said, “Can’t that famously not be done?”

“Yes. The predictive power of the Arithmancy equations and the predictive powers of the stars supposedly cancel each other out. But I’m going to do it. I already have a few ideas how.”

“Tell me?”

Theo eyed Harry, estimating the depths of his interest. He was taking Arithmancy, but Theo had never heard Harry say that he wanted to do anything in particular with it, or that he liked it more than Ancient Runes or their other classes.

Then again, when had he and Harry ever discussed academics outside of their Potions tutoring and working on essays together?

“If you want to hear more about it. A lot of people think it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring when it’s you talking about it.”

Theo felt as though someone had lit a firework in his chest, and he smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back and leaned against the wall, ignoring his cauldron. It was one of the first times Theo had seen him pay attention to something other than Potions.

Theo talked happily about how he intended to combine Arithmancy and Astronomy and why he thought the problems with combining them were more imaginary than real, and Harry smiled at him and smiled at him, and Theo didn’t even think until later that Draco had probably never received that compliment of intense attention.

Somehow, Draco not getting it seemed less important than the fact that Theo had received the attention in the first place.

*

“Thank you for meeting me in Hogsmeade, Mr. Grayson.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” Harry was astonished how hard it was to call the Dark Lord by that title instead of “my lord. “I have to admit that I was a little surprised when Mr. Malfoy signed my Hogsmeade permission form and Professor Slughorn accepted it.”

The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair, his eyes bright and amused. Even under the illusion of being ordinary dark eyes instead of killing crimson, Harry thought that “Everett Peverell” was a force to be reckoned with.

But if people tended to ignore the Dark Lord under his illusion disguise, well, that left more space for Harry to take a place at his side.

“Your last letter mentioned that you thought you had messed up the poison for James Potter.”

“Yes, sir, I must have. Or why would he still be alive?” Harry found himself lowering his voice even though the charm around them would keep people from overhearing.

The Dark Lord tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “There is always the possibility that you simply did not hate him enough. After all, your real target was Professor Lily Potter. You were thinking of hurting her rather than him, I take it?”

“Yes, sir. But wouldn’t that count as messing up the potion?”

The Dark Lord glanced at him, and Harry sat up very straight. “Do you realize how rare it is that anyone your age could brew this potion at all?”

Harry paused. Then he said slowly, “Perhaps it’s rare, but I took on the project, sir. That means I made the commitment to deliver the right product. A mistake might be more understandable from someone my age, but it’s still not what you would expect if you thought I could do it.”

“It was Lucius’s idea, but I see much merit in it. And you may be sure that Lucius understands your value now, Harry.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You are a rare find,” the Dark Lord breathed. “Not just for your talent in Potions, but because Narcissa has told me you can cast some spells silently?”

Harry found himself blushing at the Dark Lord’s praise, not a position he had thought he would ever be in. “Er, yes, sir. But I can mostly only do it with spells that clean up my workstation and the like. Or prevent fumes from getting in my face. That’s because I use them so often.”

“How often do most children use Lumos and practice Transfigurations over and over again? And yet they do not manage those spells silently until their sixth year or after.” The Dark Lord flicked his fingers as if brushing away a fly. “No, I think that my successful apprentice should understand his own worth.”

“Your—apprentice, sir?”

“Of course. Did you think it would not be?”

“I thought I could ask you questions, but it would only be a cover for our meetings, my lord.”

“It might have been, had you not demonstrated such gifts. But talent and loyalty should both be rewarded. I will apprentice you in Potions, silent casting, and Dark Arts. I might have an associate of mine take over your Potions education at a point in the near future. But the others? They will belong to me.”

Harry bowed his head, his heart singing within him. “Thank you, my lord. So much.”

The Dark Lord smiled. “Obey me, Harry Grayson, stay loyal to me, and you will never regret it.”