Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the end of Burning Day, and the last story I will write in the Charming Universe. Thanks for reading along.

Chapter Twenty-One—Reports

"You're alive," said at least five hushed voices when Draco appeared the next morning in the Ministry Atrium.

Draco leaned back against the mantel and braced himself there with a single hand, nodding. "It wasn't easy," he added, when he saw the fascinated glances that darted at him and then were turned aside as though the people who'd given them were disgusted by their own lack of decorum. "I don't want to say that it was easy. But at least I got away, and proved to him that I was determined to return."

"Got away?" asked a woman who was coming forwards to stare at him. It took Draco a moment to recognize Lucy Lenneal. He didn't think he'd ever seen her with her eyes so tight around the corners.

"Yes," said Draco, and kept her under observation as he talked. She was the only one here, as he saw with another glance around the room, who had some knowledge of the real Harry. That meant her reaction would tell him a lot about the success of his next story. "The Dark Lord—" He stopped abruptly, paused, and began again. "He wanted someone to blame for the betrayal of the Unspeakables. I managed to convince him I wasn't at fault, and he released me to return here again, but it was a near thing."

"The Unspeakables didn't betray him," said Amos Diggory, although his face was pale and thoughtful, and Draco thought his protest was more for form's sake. "They had no duty of loyalty to him."

"Didn't they betray him?" Draco curled his lip, a little disdainfully. "They tried to make a deal with him, you know. Some kind of bargain. I don't know all the details, only that one faction wanted Dark Lord Potter on their side when they went to war against another faction." That was close enough to the truth that he thought it ought to satisfy anyone who'd had some specific knowledge of the situation. "But that faction turned their backs on him when they saw him burn Knockturn Alley. They tried to lure him into a trap."

"How could they have?" Lenneal shook her head. Draco hoped he was the only one to notice that her fingers were pressed into her palm, hard and sharp enough to cut. "They should know that he wouldn't leave Hogwarts, and he'd Mark anyone who came onto the grounds."

Draco gave a bitter little laugh and touched his chest above his heart. "They used me. They knew I was important enough to him that he wouldn't want anyone else to break me, but I was weak enough not to be able to fight back."

Some people murmured automatic comfort, compliments that he wasn't weak, while Lenneal stared at him and Amos leaned forwards as if he wanted to scrutinize Draco's heart through a layer of skin.

"The Dark Lord forgave me whatever part I may have played," said Draco, and lowered his head to look at his own hand resting on his heart. "I wouldn't say that I enjoyed the forgiveness, or what he did before that. But this is the important part. He has agreed to let me return to the Ministry and resume some magical theory activities, even." He waited until he was absolutely sure that all eyes in the room were on him and no one was whispering behind their hands, even though it might have been attractive to do so. "But he will never let us set up another Department of Mysteries."

"They played a vital role in the wizarding world!" said a red-haired witch Draco had to search his mind to recognize. She had been part of the council set up in place of a Minister when Tillipop retired—ah, yes, Henrietta Albury.

"They did at the time," Draco agreed somberly. "But that was the world before the Dark Lord came."

"We should have killed him while we had the chance," muttered someone else.

Draco kept himself from bristling only by clasping his hands slowly in front of him and giving a shrug that they could take a lot of ways, whatever way they wanted. "Probably," he agreed. "But we didn't, and this is the mess we're left with. He's—it might be best to think of Hogwarts as a hostile nation that we have to deal with."

"But it's the school where our children will go!" someone from the back complained.

Draco looked up and let his expression brighten. "I thought the Ministry was going to cut off contact and refuse to accept the OWLs and NEWTs of people who went to Hogwarts. Are we going to change our minds? That's very good news. And something that the Dark Lord wished to encourage, I have to admit."

There was silence. Draco knew the source of that silence. There were people here who hated Harry, either what he was or who he was or what he stood for, and wanted to destroy him and resist him. At the same time, they wanted life to go on much as it always had. Children sent to Hogwarts, someone in charge of Hogwarts who wasn't the Ministry, no more war. Those were the conflicting impulses that had allowed the Unspeakables to get away with so much even after the rest of the Ministry had stopped putting official support behind their actions.

Harry was going to take advantage of that paralysis. It would be a long process, but Draco spoke the first, coaxing words now.

"I don't think that the Dark Lord will mind if we send our children to Hogwarts. He encourages contact between children and parents, you know. Even parents who don't live in his Court are welcome to visit if they come in peace."

They were silent, thinking about that, other than a few snorts. It was true that the Board of Governors had rarely invited parents to come to Hogwarts. There had been many reasons for that, including that they wanted the Headmaster to be in charge of students and parents could disrupt the educational experience, but Draco thought a lot of it had to do with control. And they'd had a supporter in Dumbledore, who enjoyed being independent of both parents and the Minister.

"What would happen if we disapproved of something he was teaching?" asked Albury, her mouth a little softer now.

"You could speak to him about it," Draco said, and shook his head at the way she paled. "He wouldn't kill you for asking. What he gets upset about are people attacking him and taking his toys." He jerked a thumb at his own chest. "Or trying to kill him. Even when he went after the Department of Mysteries, you know, he transformed them. He didn't kill them."

"That's not very comforting."

Draco didn't say anything. He thought it would be comforting to know that you would continue in at least one form, but then, he didn't know where any of the birds were to ask them that. The Unspeakables had all flown away, and first alerted people that something was happening when they streaked overhead.

"What you're saying," said Lenneal, apparently impatient that no one else was reaching this conclusion, "is that we really can live with him. Like the Minister of another nation."

"Yes," said Draco. "I know that it means diminished control, and power, but look at it this way. It's better than the alternative."

"Alternative?" asked someone who sounded dim.

"The Dark Lord taking over Britain," said Draco. "Or just losing patience and turning us all into birds. He probably thinks that we'd be easier to manage in an aviary." He gave a pointed glance at Brightness, who had fluttered up into the rafters of the room while he was making his little speech. Brightness looked down and made a cooing noise before he applied his beak hard to his feathers again.

"It's not what we wanted," said Amos, but he had a thoughtful frown on his face that was better than the outright dismissive one Draco had expected. "It's not what we fought for."

"The war, you mean?" Draco asked, and shook his head. "No, but this Dark Lord isn't the one we fought against, either. And I haven't heard anyone come up with a plan that could actually bring this one down." From what Harry had told him, Draco actually suspected the defeat of the former Dark Lord had had a lot of luck behind it. They wouldn't get someone with a curse scar linked to Harry this time.

"It's frightening," whispered someone.

"It's annoying," someone corrected her, and they sounded fierce about it.

Probably, Draco acknowledged to himself. But I also know that you would have lived under Voldemort's rule if he had successfully taken over the Ministry. Lots of people were already adapting to it. That's what we do.

That was what Harry had said, lying in bed with Draco. "You think I want to rule the wizarding world?" he'd asked, and shaken his head hard enough that Draco feared for his neck. "Fuck, no. A bunch of people who won't save themselves, won't speak up for themselves. I want nothing to do with ruling them."

Draco had agreed with that, thinking about some of the articles that the wizarding world had believed about Harry, the number of times they'd turned on him, how he could be the Heir of Slytherin one minute and the Savior the next. Harry had been right when he said that they would probably never believe in him completely, never want to believe in him.

Nightshade had pursed up her lips when he saw Draco. Draco hadn't said anything to her. She had never clarified for Harry, after all, whether her visions involved him being alive, or escaping mind-control by the Unspeakables as quickly as he had. Draco would rather live in the world they had.

Other voices murmured, and Draco began to spin the lies that poked and prodded, flattered and absorbed. It would take a long time until he and Harry could establish even a reasonable relationship between the Court at Hogwarts and the Ministry, let alone the kind that might let them emerge from hiding.

But Draco was willing to work for it.

"Lord Potter."

Harry looked up in surprise. Not only was the sound of the voice unexpected, but so was the fact that Briseis had stood back and let Rosenthal walk right into his office without some sort of introduction. He rose to his feet, intrigued. "You don't have to call me that if you don't want to. I know what you've done for Draco."

"It's been little enough, in the last few months." Rosenthal peered into Harry's eyes as if she intended to use his glasses for mirrors. "But he's in the position that he always wanted, if not quite the way he envisioned it."

Harry shrugged. "I would have given a lot to change that. But not relinquish my bond with Hogwarts, and not let my enemies continue attacking me. Sooner or later, an attack would have slipped through and damaged a member of my Court, if not me. I had to make them fearful enough to stop."

Rosenthal nodded. Her gaze was still intent. "And what are you going to do now?"

"What else would I do now?" Harry asked, a little surprised. He would have thought Rosenthal would be on his side and continue being on his side, because he had arranged things in a way that ought not to trouble her. "I'll keep the Court open to anyone who wants to enter and live here peacefully. And can get through an interview with me, of course. I'll befriend the magical creatures and give children an education."

"But what will you do to soothe the fears of people who would have emigrated to the Court?"

She sounds a bit like Rita Skeeter, Harry thought, irritated. "I've learned that I can't soothe fears," he said. "There's always someone who's going to fear me, no matter what. I do grieve for that," he added, because he didn't want Rosenthal to think he didn't. "But I can either keep fighting to change it, which only gives them more reasons to be afraid, or I can accept that that's the status quo and I'll leave my Court open for the people who do want to change things. It's literally the only thing I can do."

Rosenthal gave a quiet little hum. She never took her eyes off him. "You don't think that's…excessive?"

"What part of it?"

"That you destroyed the Department of Mysteries in response to them taking Minister-elect Malfoy."

"Like I said, anything I did would have been seen as excessive," said Harry. "Even killing Gorenson was. And the Unspeakables could invade my grounds and torture Draco and try to kill me or capture me without being condemned by the public, while my Marking them and sending them away was felt to be unfair. By the Department of Mysteries, if no one else. I learned when I arrived at the Ministry that the Unspeakables who had said they were allying with me were frightened of my magic and planning to capture me. I stopped caring."

"Minister-elect Malfoy did not tell me that part," said Rosenthal, looking intrigued.

"I imagine that Draco's busy right now." Harry had to smile. Draco did have what he had wanted, if not everything he had come to want. Well, they would find some way to make it work someday. That was the main reason that Harry had disregarded Nightshade's prophecy and gone ahead to burn the Department of Mysteries. He couldn't take ten more years of hearing his word spurned, having enemies trying to hurt him and his people, and hiding his relationship with Draco. He would take some peace this way, and bid for the peace that revealing his relationship with Draco would get him when it came.

"Yes, he is," said Rosenthal, and stood up a little taller, her robes falling around her. "I imagine that you're busy yourself, and I won't take up any more of your time, Lord Potter. My thanks and the thanks of my patron."

Harry gave her a little bow. He couldn't wait to tell Draco how Rosenthal talked about him when he wasn't there. Patron, no less. "You're welcome."

Rosenthal left, but Briseis lingered. Harry nodded to her. "Yes, what is it? Some problem with the werewolves again?" Ombershade had been making noises about bringing some more werewolves to live in the Court, and there were people debating the legal ramifications of that, as well as the centaurs to consult if the pack wanted to establish territory in the Forbidden Forest.

"No," said Briseis. She took a deep breath and leaned towards him, balancing on her toes. Harry braced himself to learn that she was upset, that she was leaving. She had never looked at him like that before, through all the crises they'd had.

"How is this going to work?" Briseis whispered. "They'll think that you're torturing the Minister, and they might be too scared to rebel against you now, but what about the people who are already here?"

Harry sought in his mind for some clue as to what she meant, and finally came up with, "You mean Nightshade and Hortensia and the rest of the dangerous ones?" It was the only thing that made sense for something to be concerned about, although he still thought that Briseis ought to know the answer.

"Yes," said Briseis, and from the way she was gazing raptly at his face, it was obvious that she did not know the answer.

"We treat them the way I've been treating them," said Harry firmly. "Ordinary people. Human beings or otherwise. We offer them alliance and friendship, and a place to live. They'll explore and do their research and perhaps teach." He didn't know yet if Nightshade would make a good Divination teacher, but on the other hand, it was hard to imagine that she could be worse at it than Trelawney was. "Or they'll bring up their families here, make their homes. It's the way it's been since the beginning."

Except with Draco now. And no Persephone. Harry could still feel a dull ache when he thought about her, the daughter of his soul, but he had accepted that her destruction would have happened anyway. At least this way, it hadn't taken him and the soul-piece he'd granted her with it.

Briseis sighed, long and low, but although he concentrated, Harry couldn't hear any unhappiness in the sound. Not as such. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered. "You don't know how happy you've made me."

Harry shook his head, not really understanding her. "You didn't want to live in a place like this?"

"I've wanted to serve in a Court like this for years," said Briseis, and closed her eyes, and smiled. "Even before I knew that was my desire, I think. But it wouldn't have been easy to find, or support, or make real. I know now that I can count on you to do it. But hearing you say the words was what I needed."

And then she smiled wider and stepped up to the desk, bringing out the latest pile of paperwork. "We have a few matters to address before you can speak to any newspaper reporter again. Let's discuss that this time, okay?"

Harry hesitated, but she really did seem to have got over whatever fears were troubling her. Her face had a quiet glow of happiness, although the glance she sent at him was challenging.

"Yes, we will," Harry said, and he stepped up beside her and put his hand on top of hers. Briseis gave him another smile, and dipped into the paperwork.

"Do you think we'll get tired of this, someday?"

Harry turned lazily on his side. He and Draco had made love, hard enough, after having been parted for almost a week, that it was difficult to muster his sluggish thoughts. Brightness sat asleep on a perch nearby, and although the shimmer of the flames on his silver feathers was nothing like the glow from Persephone's, Harry had to admit that he felt more content than he had in a long time. "What?"

Draco was lying on his back, arms folded behind his head, but that just made Harry pay more attention. That posture didn't look lazy the way it did the majority of the time on someone else. That was what Harry mentally classified as Draco's "worry" posture.

"Hiding our relationship," Draco said. "Pretending love bites are the marks of torture. Negotiating Ministry business through contacts that we have to hide." He reached out and touched Harry's bare shoulder, collarbone down to throat. "Do you wish that you'd done something else and not burned the Department of Mysteries?"

"No," Harry said. "They were a knife at my back, a potentially infinitely powerful and unreasonable enemy. I'm glad that I got rid of them the way I did."

Draco nodded, but he still looked unconvinced. "Then you think that we can do this?"

"I think we will," said Harry, and reached out and took Draco's hand and placed a kiss in the center of his palm. "I told you what Nightshade told me about the future?"

"Yes." Draco said, and rolled towards him. "That's why I'm asking the question at all. I'm wondering if you regret not taking that other fork."

Harry shook his head. "I chose this path. This is the one I'm on, and I won't regret not being able to change it."

"That sounds awfully fatalistic," Draco said, but the challenge was back in his eyes the way it had been in Briseis's, and Harry smiled wider.

"I rescued you," Harry said simply. "I got rid of my enemy. I knew I was going to pay a price. I decided this was the better one. Someone else would have made a different choice. You, maybe." He paused, but Draco said nothing. Maybe he knew that so many circumstances would have had to change for him to be in Harry's place that he had no idea what he would have done with the chance. "But this is the one I made. This is the price I can live with. At least I have you, and some people in the Court who know the truth, to share it with."

Draco lowered his head a second. Then he said, "And you love me."

"I love you more passionately than I can think through," Harry said, and embraced him, hard enough that Draco jumped. "I sacrificed a future for you. That's love."

It is.

Draco felt some doubt, some niggling roiling creature inside himself that wouldn't leave him alone no matter how many times Harry said the words, subside at last. Yes, Harry was right. To have someone give up everything for you—a possible world, a different universe—was love.

And if Draco might resent some of the costs that came with it, there was no way he could resent the gesture itself.

"I love you, too," he whispered, and settled his head on Harry's shoulder, and closed his eyes. His breathing could match Harry's, he found, if he breathed gently enough. They sounded the same in that, despite the differences in power and the public personas and all that separated them.

Harry touched him, and he looked up. Harry smiled back at him with the eyes that had reflected transforming fire, touched him with the hands that had created a black phoenix, surrounded him with the magic that had animated Hogwarts.

And Draco felt safe, and beloved, and joyful.

This is love.

The End.