AN: My internet, right now is extremely limited, but I will answer questions posted in the reviews, next chapter. Thank you all so much for reviewing, and keeping interest while I was stuck offline this past couple weeks! You've all made my heart fly!
Enjoy!
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Chapter One
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Lucius Malfoy frowned as he sat at his desk. With everything required of him at the ministry, just to keep his lord's activities there as quiet as possible, family business was piling up. Unfortunately, at the moment, he couldn't let the ministry angle slide. As much as his lord wanted to create confusion and fear in the populace in general, he wanted to keep the real work, his infiltration of the ministry, quiet until it was far too late for anyone to do anything about it.
He shook his head. At the moment, he hated coming to his study, knowing he would only be able to get a tiny fraction of his work completed before something else would require his immediate attention. Sometimes, it seemed to him, that he was the only one doing anything for the dark lord - at least anything remotely successful. He sighed. There was nothing for it, however. He would do what he needed to, to make sure he and his family maintained their standings - and their lives.
It certainly didn't help that his son had chosen now to become fractious, rebelliously trying to assert his independence. Stay at Hogwarts for break, indeed! Why couldn't the boy have chosen last year to get ideas, to get ambitious? Reports on the Potter brat's activities last winter break would have been invaluable to their lord. This year, the desire would interfere with plans already set in motion - something the boy should realize already. This Yule was the day chosen for his son to be marked, and as much as having the information would be valuable, their lord was not one to be put off by . . . independent schemes.
A family owl swooping through the open window distracted him from his work yet again and his frown deepened as it swooped over his desk, dropping the latest missive from his son before completing its arc and diving back out the window.
Feeling put upon, and wondering just what his son would be writing home about this close to coming here himself, Lucius braced himself for whatever anger inducing plot the boy might be hatching now and opened the letter.
While I understand that family obligations are quite important, I feel it is in our best interests at this time to remain at Hogwarts over the coming break. I'm certain you, and other interested parties, will understand that I do this with the best of intentions and loyalty to the Malfoy family name and traditions. Please give my regards to mother and I will see the two of you at the end of the year as always. Sincerely,
Father,
Draco Lucius Malfoy
Why that insolent brat!
Furious, Lucius instantly crumpled the dismissive letter from his son and struggled to bring himself under some semblance of control. This was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. How dare-
Lucius' thoughts stopped and he carefully uncrumpled the letter, rereading it. There it was. His son was trying to tell him something. The question was, what? What traditions was he referring to? It couldn't be in reference to his upcoming marking, otherwise the boy would be coming home as scheduled. His frown turning as much thoughtful as angry, Lucius stood abruptly and strode out of his study. He had a son to visit and demand answers from. That boy was coming home for Yule, one way or another. His recalcitrant son was not going to be the reason he next experienced a round of crucio for having disappointed their lord. Didn't the brat realize that the family curse could drive him round the twist if he didn't comply with the demands it made on him?
Stopping only long enough to make certain he was presentable, Lucius strode into the only room in the home that could be apparated from. The moment he stepped within the wards of the room, he spun in place, focusing solely on his destination for the brief moment it took to apparate. Between one breath and the next, he was no longer at the manor and was, instead, standing outside the gates of Hogwarts, his ama mater.
The moment he stepped inside his old school, Lucius knew something was incredibly wrong. Power swept over him in surprising waves and it was only the iron control over his public reactions that kept him from spinning around to make sure the dark lord hadn't somehow managed to walk into the school behind him. Despite every ounce of common sense and logic telling him that it was impossible, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he should be kneeling before he found himself crucioed for not paying proper homage.
As he sucked in a deep, cleansing breath through clenched teeth, Lucius directed his attention toward that power. His instincts dimmed to the back of his mind as he analyzed what he was sensing. The power was not from the dark lord. It was . . . more. It was wild, only partially controlled. He gasped as a shocking realization swept over him. There was a child here that had more raw power than the dark lord.
How?
Lucius knew only too well just how much the dark lord had done to increase his own, already impressive power. It should have been utterly impossible for anyone else to come even close. Unfortunately, he was sensing it now. What he couldn't figure out, was how a student could manage such rituals under the very nose of the insanely affable, yet annoyingly near-omniscient headmaster of Hogwarts.
. . . .I do this with the best of intentions and loyalty to the Malfoy family name and traditions.
"You stupid child," Lucius muttered under his breath as he strode forward, once again focused on finding his wayward son. At least now that he understood just what was motivating the boy, his rage was dissipating. Apparently, Draco hadn't yet internalized the fact that magical strength wasn't all there was to true power. No child - no matter his raw magic - stood a chance of equally the dark lord's power structure, and that was the crux of the matter. Thankfully, all it would take to put his son back on track would be a few quietly spoken words, and the dark lord would never have to know how close the Malfoy heir came to throwing his own life away.
Lucius was simply grateful that he'd honed his ability to sense the strongest magical power to a fine art. If he hadn't, he might not have known exactly what the problem was before confronting his son. Now that he did know, he could relax somewhat, and allow himself to enjoy the feeling of returning to the school. He'd had some good times here, times when he'd been the monarch of his world. He'd ruled Slytherin house and not even his head of house'd had more influence there. A small part of him missed that time, even if he hadn't had any true power. It had felt like it, and that had been enough at the time.
Running across a scowling Severus, pulled him from his reminiscences. He arched an elegant eyebrow at the man, even as the other Slytherin noticed him.
"What are you doing here, Lucius?" Severus asked, well, snarled really.
Lucius didn't take it personally. He knew the man was in foul mood at the best of times, and the middle of a school week would never be the best of times for his bitter comrade.
"I have need to speak to my son, Severus," he replied smoothly. "I would appreciate the use of your office for our meeting."
"And does your son know of your visit?"
Lucius shook his head. "No, he doesn't," he answered, not elaborating on the reason for his visit, despite the fact that he knew very well that Severus was obliquely asking for more information.
Eyes narrowing at him, Severus nodded once, sharply, and abruptly turned around heading the opposite direction he had originally been heading. Snapping his fingers as he stalked forward, Severus called a house elf to them.
"What can-"
"Find Mr. Malfoy and tell him his presence is required in my office now."
"Yes, Professor Potions Master, Sir."
"Go!"
Lucius kept his amusement at the interaction to himself. Severus was ever impatient at the social niceties - not that he had ever wasted such things on house elves, but Severus took it to a whole new level of impatience. At least the filthy thing had disappeared quickly, something his old servant, Dobby, had never managed. That thing had always irritated him beyond measure. He'd loathed the cringing, cowtowing menace for years before the Potter brat had tricked him into freeing the crawling disaster. He'd never really delved too deeply into just why he hated the thing, his very real sense of self told him he wouldn't like the answer one bit. It wasn't that he hated all his house elves, just the ones that cringed and crawled every time a wizard came near. His skin crawled every time he was witness to the abasement - something he didn't understand, since that was the rightful reaction of such lowly, undeserving creatures.
Severus silently led them into his office and Lucius barely restrained himself from sneering in distaste as the decor impressed itself on him. How the man could stand lining his office with revolting body parts never failed to disconcert him. He almost snorted. That was the point, he supposed. From a student's point of view, the room was probably the stuff of their nightmares. Given that perspective, Lucius supposed he could actually admire the move - even if it did make him distinctly uncomfortable also.
"What could possibly be important enough to drag you all the way to Hogwarts only three days before winter break, Lucius?"
Lucius turned an imperious look towards his comrade. "A family matter of some urgency," he replied, revealing absolutely nothing.
Severus snorted his obvious disdain for the uninformative answer, his eyes narrowing assessingly.
Lucius found he had to wonder just what the look was about. It was blindingly obvious what he was here to see the boy about, so just why was Severus so . . . nosy. It was really quite unlike the man. His own assessment, however, was cut short by short, sharp raps on the office door.
"Come."
Draco entered immediately upon hearing the command. "Afternoon, Sir," the boy began, only to cut himself off, eyes widening just the briefest moment before schooling his expression to neutral blandness. "Father," he acknowledged.
Lucius was glad to see the boy didn't bother stating the obvious fact that he hadn't expected to see him. At least some of the lessons he'd taught had taken hold. He returned his son's nod and waited for Severus to discreetly remove himself for their discussion. When that didn't happen, he turned his attention to the man. "I would like a few moments of your time when I've finished speaking with Draco," he said, knowing his point of wanting privacy would be made without actually having to ask the man to leave his own office - something that would be appallingly rude on his part. What he didn't understand was why the man hadn't given it to them automatically.
"Sir, there is a rather . . . embarrassing issue I need to discuss with my father," Draco began, startling Lucius. "If you would do me the honor of allowing us the use of your office, I would be most appreciative."
So, he can be subtle, Lucius thought proudly. There is hope for him yet.
Severus nodded sharply and strode from the room.
Lucius eyed the head of Slytherin house as the door closed behind him, one thought repeating inside his mind. Why did he not respond to my request, then turn around and respond to Draco's? Only two answers came to mind, and he didn't like either one. The situation would bear watching, he thought, until he knew which one - if either - was the case. For now, putting that conundrum out of his mind, he returned his attention to his son. Certain of his ability to speak freely now that the door was closed and the wards he well knew surrounded the office were in place, he began the necessary re-education of his son.
"It seems, Draco, that I must once again revisit some of your lessons."
"Which ones are those, Father?" Draco asked, his expression gratifyingly blank.
Schooling himself, refusing to allow his son's deliberate obtuseness to enrage him, Lucius smirked at the boy. "You know very well the lessons I refer to. There is more to an individual's power than raw magical talent."
Draco nodded. "Yes, there is," he agreed readily, his expression changing not at all. "I take it you've seen him."
Lucius frowned mentally. "No," he replied curtly. "I have, however, felt his power. I sensed it the moment I stepped inside the school."
Well, that got a reaction.
"It's an ability you will be able to hone as you grow into your talents," he allowed. "It is merely a refinement of the curse."
Draco nodded once again, but volunteered no further information.
"Son, no amount of raw magic can equal the power structure that the dark lord has amassed over the last 50 years, surely you can see that."
"Yes, father. I have not based this decision solely on magical power. The curse itself would make sure of that, as you well know."
"Indeed it would," Lucius reluctantly admitted, "however, something I don't think you realize is that your . . . limited perception of the situation would also affect how the curse interacts with you and those you come into contact with. I'm sure if you think this through logically, you will know I am right."
"I assure you, Father, I have thought this out. I've gone over it innumerable times since being slapped in the face with it. This is not what I would have chosen on my own. Being at odds with you is not . . . comfortable."
Only sheer will power kept Lucius from grinding his teeth in frustration. His son was deliberately making this conversation difficult. The natural tendency of a Slytherin to withhold extraneous information was all well and good, but was utterly unnecessary when dealing directly with family. That was also something he knew his son knew, which meant the brat was baiting him and he would not succumb to such childish attempts to control this encounter. Before he could wrest control of the situation back, however, his son surprised him.
Leaning forward, Draco shook his head. "I know you do not think much of my ability to reason this out, Father. Your presence here is proof enough of that, something I'd actually counted on."
In his shock, he couldn't quite keep complete control over his expression and felt an eyebrow shoot upward. It was the only physical reaction he allowed to escape, however.
"The person whose power you say you've sensed, also has a great deal of other influence, both social and political. Right now, his influence is mainly here at the school, of course, but his potential - if encouraged in the right way - for both is . . . impressive."
"That is all well and good, Draco, but this 'future potential' you speak of will come to naught. The dark lord will succeed in his bid for power long before anyone at this school has the chance to even begin to build a decent power base."
Draco shook his head. "I disagree."
Lucius nearly growled, only barely restraining himself.
"Father, please, listen to me," Draco pleaded. "Politically, this person has Dumbledore's ear, has stood toe to toe with Fudge and come out on top. He has sycophants from three out of four houses. Socially, he has at least half the Hufflepuffs as friends, a third to half the Ravenclaws, and easily three quarters of the Gryffindors."
Lucius could feel his shock growing. Who? He could think of no one who had that kind of power at such a young age. Children were notoriously fickle.
"He is also head of line for two ancient pureblood lines. Properly taught, he would be a force to be reckoned with the moment he graduates and can take his place within the council."
"Who?" Lucius demanded.
"I cannot reveal that as yet, Father. If you'll think for just a moment, you'll know why."
"I am your father, Draco, and as such I demand that you tell me just who this . . . paragon is."
"Tell me something, Father," Draco said, instead of properly answering, "would you, with the situation as it sits between us, reveal to me any plans of the dark lord's?"
Lucius frowned, snorting. "Of course not! I would not risk the fact that you may pass them on to this so-called paragon of yours."
"Precisely my point."
He did growl then. It wasn't that he couldn't see his son's point, because he could. Unfortunately, he was working at a handicap here. Without knowing precisely who his son was choosing to follow - Thank Merlin it doesn't seem to be Dumbledore! - he couldn't marshall strong enough counter-arguments against his son's reasoning, and until he could, the curse would continue to point his son the wrong direction. He stood abruptly, knowing this conversation would only move in useless circles if they continued it now. He settled for issuing orders instead.
"You will come home for the holidays, Draco. I demand it as your father, as someone who cares about your wellbeing and, as your head of line."
Something flared in his son's eyes then, something Lucius could not interpret, something that worried him greatly. He could not, however, back down from his stance. It was his duty to see to the welfare of his family and his heritage. He could not allow youthful follies to interfere in that - no matter how well reasoned they may seem to the youth in question. His son may defy his father - most teenagers did at one point or another. He may even scoff at someone caring about his well being, but he knew the consequences of defying the head of line. All well brought up purebloods did. It was something that simply wasn't done, not without unthinkable and unalterable consequences.
He swept out of the room without giving either of them a chance to say something they would both regret, not giving his son so much as a farewell or backward glance. He was confident of his son's obedience in this - if in almost nothing else.
It was only as he reached the entrance hall, adrenaline from the entire argument fading, that he slowed, a minute piece of the conversation coming back to haunt him.
Your presence here is proof enough of that, something I'd actually counted on.
He slowed further, his thoughts running that odd comment over and over until an epiphany struck. His son had purposely drawn him here! The precocious brat had baited the trap until he'd fallen for it and come to the school. He gasped in a very uncomfortable mix of outrage and pride as he realized just why his son had done it. He'd fully intended to use the curse against his own father. It was a Slytherin move to the core and Lucius had to admit that it had been a good ploy. Too bad for the boy's confidence that it hadn't worked out the way he'd planned. Of course, that was a good lesson also, that no matter how well you plan; sometimes things just don't go your way.
Lucius was almost at the exit, nearly clear of the discomforting wash of power when that power spiked suddenly. Snapping his head left, to where he knew the source was, he waited; though part of him was screaming at him to retreat before it was too late. He didn't, wanting to know just who had so much influence over his son. I have to know who it is, he firmly told the part of himself that wanted to flee, in order to know how to counteract that influence.
He scoffed at himself, even as he thought the excuse. It was far more than that and he well knew it. He didn't like that someone else had that kind of influence at all and he wanted to take them apart for daring to take what was his.
Sure enough, several moments later he saw movement in the shadows of the recesses of the hallway leading to the headmaster's office. He gasped the moment he recognized who it was.
Potter!
Potter was angry, furious really, judging by the barely controlled power spinning out and around the boy.
Potter noticed him, sneered, and brushed past him without so much as a by your leave.
Every instinct he'd honed for the last 20 years screamed at him. and it was all he could do to remain on his feet. Rage and power do not end well for those around the angry wizard and in conditioned response he had nearly dropped to his knees automatically. Horrified by the very prospect, Lucius turned abruptly and all but raced from the school. It was only the shreds of what dignity his instincts had left him with that kept his strategic withdrawal from being at a dead run. This was not happening!
Apparating the moment he passed out of the school's protective wards, Lucius strode to his study and his stash of firewhiskey. He normally eschewed the stuff, but there were times that distinctly called for the strong bite of it - and now was one of those times. He downed two doubles before he allowed himself to think. Pouring himself a third, he sat, choosing the comfortable armchair near the fireplace.
He frowned, going back over the conversation with his son, adding in his new knowledge of who, exactly, had been discussed. Of course the Potter brat had a lot of influence, despite his age and inexperience. Rumor had it that he had killed a basilisk in his second year; that said basilisk was the 'monster' in Slytherin's Chamber. If that was even close to the truth, any student worthy of being considered remotely intelligent understood that the brat had saved many lives, perhaps even their own. Add to that, the brat's fame for not only surviving against the killing curse, but repeated brushes with the dark lord himself, and he was afraid his son just might be right. The brat had incredible potential. The problem, as he saw it, was could the dark lord win quickly enough to counteract that potential.
With his seeming obsession with the brat? his thoughts taunted. Maybe not. Shaking his head clear of that dismaying thought, Lucius leaned back, and absently sipping his drink, carefully pondered Draco's assertions that the brat was the head of line for two ancient lines. The Potter line certainly. He was the only Potter left, after all. What other family could he possibly be head of, though? It made no sense. The boy's father had only been the Potter head, of that he was absolutely certain.
He didn't doubt his son's information, however. That was one thing his son was good at, gathering intelligence. He may not always know quite what to do with said information, but he did have a knack for getting hold of it in the first place. Damn it! he thought sullenly. This is getting complicated.
As much as he loathed the idea, fought it with every ounce of his will, he could feel the curse's urgings begin. Unfortunately, he really didn't like what it had to say.
Oh, and you love cowtowing to the bloody dark lord so much better? he sneered silently. That was a problem, however, his mind shifting gears without his full realization. One did not simply stop being a deatheater. To even try meant a torturous death. To ignore for long the curse's call, however, meant eventual insanity. Neither was an attractive fate. He would definitely have to think through his options. Surely the curse would bend to a reasoned conclusion. After all, dead or incarcerated, one could not gain power of any sort.
Coming to an abrupt decision, he rose quickly and strode from the room. He needed his occlumency better trained and he knew only one way to do that. He knew enough to keep knowledge of the curse from anyone, but knew a concerted effort would break past what mind shields he could raise. Unfortunately, he could think of only one person to go to for that training. As he moved, he plotted.
A wizard's oath, to keep quiet about whatever he might learn from my mind - perhaps even an unbreakable vow, if I can manage to get Severus to actually make one.
Lucius snorted; that was a given. A thousand other details and obstacles spun through his mind as he headed back to his study, each of which would need to be seen to and countered before he could proceed. He was not about to react without a solid plan behind him. First, though, he had an owl to write. No matter his final decision, he had to keep knowledge of his . . . uncertainties from the dark lord. Those would be just as dangerous as actually betraying the wizard - should his end decision be to act on that horrifying thought.
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Draco breathed out heavily, the action a strange mixture of relief and frustration. Yes, he was relieved that his father was now gone and the meeting was over with - with himself left relatively intact, pride notwithstanding. But now he had a couple of problems. One, he had to figure out something new for winter break - unless he could manage a second chance for his father and Potter to run into each other - because his father wasn't backing down from him coming home. Secondly, he needed to find that mysterious way for the two of them to run across each other! Damn it! This had been perfect, but his father had run off in a huff and he hadn't got the chance to actually engineer the 'random meeting'.
"Bloody hell!" he muttered softly.
"Language, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco jumped and spun around to face his godfather. "Sorry, Sir," he replied, trying to sound completely unsurprised while his heart raced against his rib cage from the surprise of his godfather's sudden appearance. Of course, the fact that he still wasn't a hundred percent certain that the man wouldn't ship him off to the dark lord if he couldn't manage to talk him around wasn't helping his sense of peace. Sure, the man had said he wouldn't, had - in fact - looked faintly repulsed by the idea, but that didn't mean he couldn't change his mind if push came to shove.
Severus snorted and shook his head. "Sit, Draco," he ordered pointedly, taking his own seat behind his desk. "I won't bite."
The corner of his mouth twitching upward, Draco did as ordered, his mind in a sudden flurry of thought that was not reflected in his words or tone. "That went better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped," he offered quietly. Several of the conversations from the past couple days kept turning themselves over in his mind and he suddenly realized Potter had known!
How? Why? When? Draco mentally shook himself. It really was more important to figure out what it actually meant. How did it alter his plans?
Arching a questioning eyebrow at him, Severus didn't say anything, merely waited and Draco forced his thoughts back on track. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to reveal about the whole situation. He couldn't very well reveal that he'd lured his own father here in the hopes that he'd run across Potter, thereby activating the curse, and making his life easier, now could he? For one, his godfather didn't know about the curse, couldn't know about the curse. That knowledge in a deatheater's hands would certainly endanger his father, and on the off chance that his godfather chose to keep it to himself it would then endanger his godfather. It was a no-win scenario no matter how he looked at it.
"He wants me home for Yule break," he said softly.
"Why wouldn't he?" Severus returned blandly.
Draco's eyes narrowed. The man was being purposely obtuse, he just knew it. "I'm . . . wary of certain family traditions at this point," he offered carefully, earning him a sharp stare from his rather intimidating godfather.
Severus leaned forward over his desk, resting his weight on his forearms and locking his gaze with Draco's. "It's perhaps not the most Slytherin ideal, but I am going to be blunt here within the safety of my office."
Draco nodded his willingness. Perhaps now he might get some help for his current situation.
"The 'family tradition' you're currently wary of is the fact that the dark lord plans to mark you this coming Yule, correct?"
Again Draco nodded, knowing nothing more than that was needed.
"All things considered," Severus continued, "I assume you wish to avoid that."
Draco nodded a third time. "Unfortunately, I see no way of doing that without alerting father to the fact that he's no longer, magically speaking, my head of line."
Severus frowned at him. "What has one got to do with the other?"
"I told him I'd wished to stay here for the holidays in order to spy on Potter's activities."
Severus snorted. "I'm sure that did not go over well."
"No, it didn't. He wrote back, refusing my request."
"Then why did he visit?" Severus asked pointedly.
"Because I wrote him a second note, reiterating that I would not be coming home over break. Instead of writing back, he came here to deliver his demand in person."
"He invoked head of line authority," Severus replied knowingly.
"Yes," he replied flatly, refusing to nod a fourth time.
"I can see no way around his finding out, in that case," Severus admitted. "I will give it some thought, however, and will let you know if I come up with anything."
Draco sighed as he stood, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, toying with the idea of doing the unthinkable, of revealing the family curse to yet another person. His godfather couldn't help him get his father and Potter in one place if he didn't know about it. He kept quiet. He well knew why his family had kept it from everyone - including those who married into the family. It was too big a risk. The curse was something that could very easily be used against them, and his godfather, however much he may care - something the man had already proved over the last couple weeks - was a Slytherin first and foremost; a Slytherin deatheater.
No, he would have to figure this out on his own. "Thank you for your assistance, Professor," Draco offered formally, heading out of the room. He knew better than to expect a verbal response. Social niceties were lost on the man most of the time, Severus considering them an inane waste of time. The irritated wave of the man's hand, acknowledging he had heard, was the best he could expect. It was enough. Draco accepted the man as he was, and didn't expect him to change just for him. Good thing, too, because he doubted there was a person on the planet that could 'smooth his godfather's rough edges'.
He almost laughed, picturing someone actually having the idiocy to try. Shaking that picture from his mind, he focused once again on what he was going to do. Unfortunately, he suspected his godfather was right and there would be no way to keep his father from finding out exactly what was going on. He would prefer it to be after - way after - his father ran across Potter himself, but he wasn't sure that would be an option, especially since this attempt had failed so spectacularly. Be that as it may, he needed to speak to Potter, arrange the continuation of the tutoring sessions over the break; they hadn't discussed that yet. He certain wasn't going to let the information go stale. Everything Potter had yet to learn built on what they'd already discussed. All of it was a rather complex and convoluted quagmire of traditions and laws that made for big troubles if you couldn't keep straight what was tradition and what was actual law. Of course, it wasn't even as simple as that. Beyond tradition vs law, there was also political law vs magical law, and the consequences of breaking either.
Of course, breaking political law wasn't so bad, so long as you didn't get caught - or had the money to bribe your way out. Breaking magical law, on the other hand, could be disastrous. There were times, which Potter had to learn, when it was possible to break magical law, you just had to be prepared for the consequences thereof, and plan for them accordingly. Of course, that wouldn't be possible for Potter until the prat learned to sit down and really think through his decisions to the bitter end. Some magical laws could be broken with relatively minor consequences, others, not so much. The biggest problem with breaking those kinds of laws was that the same law could result in consequences of varying severity, depending solely on just how badly said law was broken.
Magical laws like an unbreakable vow had, of course, very severe consequences if broken. Unbreakable was actually rather a misnomer. The unbreakable vow could be broken, you just ended up dead as a consequence - rather an excellent reason not to break it in Draco's considered opinion. The fealty oath was another such law, and the consequences of breaking that varied quite a lot, actually, depending greatly on the severity of the break and what was verbally and magically agreed to.
Potter hadn't even begun to study those things, still tied up in all the traditions and political rigamarole that went into being both a lord and a head of line. As long as the idiot didn't go making any magical contracts in the meantime, he'd be fine until he knew what he was doing.
I hope!
Draco's eyes widened as he rounded the corner of the castle, finally spotting his quarry. He stopped on the spot, staring out over the grounds. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to approach Potter at all. They may have been getting along a whole lot better, but Draco really wasn't sure about approaching while the Gryffindor was in such an obviously foul mood. He shook his head and slowly continued forward, still debating. What he couldn't understand, was how he'd never been able to see all that power of Potter's before, how no one else could. To him it was like a brightly glowing, electrical storm whipping around the Griff. Now, normally, it didn't whip so much as swirl, which is what made him aware that Potter was so angry. He had to wonder what had the prat tied in so many knots at the moment. Then dread set in and he had to wonder if it was something that would affect him.
"Potter?"
TBC
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