Pathway to Perdition

Part 3

"Good evening, Mr Weasley." Tom, the barman, lifts his cap to Percy and reveals two missing teeth in his smile. He runs a sopping wet cloth over the table top with practiced ease as he squeezes out from behind the bar. The Leaky Cauldron is almost empty this early on a rainy August afternoon.

"You've got the choice of tables." Tom nods at the room. "Will Miss Clearwater be joining you?"

For an instant, Percy just stares ahead, savouring the delicate sting of the question. Penelope loves the atmosphere of the Cauldron, which is why they come here frequently even though Percy himself prefers the company of Ministry drinkers at the Witch and Spyglass, or the more tasteful atmosphere of the Enchanted Kneazle. Far less likely to encounter unwelcome relatives there. But for today, the Leaky Cauldron is perfect - a place where no one asks questions.

"No," he replies a little belatedly, trying to ignore the sudden curious glint in the barman's eye. "No table tonight. The Ministry should have owl-reserved two rooms for tonight on the upper floor?"

Tom gives a hacking cough and reaches for the food-stained guestbook. "Let me have a look..."

He flips through the pages, and Percy thinks of the chatty owls Penny sends him weekly from New Zealand. He is happy that she got the opportunity to organise the presentation of British artefacts at the Wellington Museum of Magic, and would have gladly encouraged her to accept the post had she been wavering. He honestly doesn't mind her going abroad for a year, but he'd have liked a chance to be supportive. They'd had dinner at the Enchanted Kneazle to celebrate, during which Percy hadn't managed to work up the nerve to ask if she might want to get engaged before she left. He'd put the ring he'd bought for her into the drawer of his nightstand, where it still lies.

Yes, perhaps he's been working too much - taking over for Mr Crouch, being promoted to Minister Fudge's aide, struggling to be kept on in the new administration under Rufus Scrimgeour. At times, they hadn't seen each other for two weeks or more.

Percy's eyes follow Tom's ambling gait over to the keys board, and he realises he's hardly had time to miss Penny yet. But he wants to marry her - things will be different when she returns, he promises himself as the barman summons two of the keys, and sends them fluttering over to Percy with a wave of his wand. Percy catches them by the necks, careful not to damage their fragile wings.

"Just holler for the pub-elf if you want dinner or drinks sent up," the barman says, leering in a way that has Percy shooting him a stern look as he makes for the staircase. Something turns around in the roomy pocket of his robe, and comes to rest in a warm patch against the outside of his thigh.

There are three rooms on the topmost floor of the Cauldron, and if Potter has received Percy's owl - and for once has done as instructed - he'll have booked the third for himself tonight. Percy considers going to check immediately, but then decides to brush the dust of Azkaban off his robes first.

He unlocks the door to one of his rooms, puts his briefcase down on the rickety table and takes out a miniaturised Foeglass. Once it has begun to putter away harmlessly on the tabletop, he walks over to the sink and throws a few handfuls of cold water into his face. He runs the comb through his hair, polishes his horn-rimmed glasses and casts a quick spell to rid his robes of dust and grime. It provokes a displeased squirming motion from his pocket.

Cleaned up as much as time will permit, Percy takes the briefcase up again and carefully locks and wards his door behind him, then goes to deposit his second Foeglass in the other room. The Auror Department tried to kick up a fuss over him walking out with their prized equipment, but - as for quite a few things over the past two weeks - acting under the Minister's personal authorisation has proven invaluable.

That done, he sighs, straightens his robes one last time, and goes to knock on the third door of the little corridor.

"Who is it?" The voice comes so quickly that Percy can't help but suspect that the room's inhabitant has been listening for Percy's steps in the corridor with his ear pressed to the door. For the first time, it occurs to him that Potter may be as nervous as he is.

"Percy Weasley," he announces.

A key is turned twice in the keyhole, then Potter calls, "Come in."

Percy pulls on the door handle and slips inside. Potter is standing next to the table, clad in wizarding fashion in a long-flowing cloak with a hood that is designed to be inconspicuous, but may do the job a tad too well in times when Death Eaters are prowling the streets. After scrutinising Percy for a moment, he brushes back the hood to reveal a familiar mess of hair.

Percy locks the door and traces the rune for a standard-issue ward on the wood just to be on the safe side. Then he nods at the boy.

"Potter." And after an awkward pause, "Happy birthday." They're certainly not friends, but the boy's just come of age, and that deserves an acknowledgement at least. It's a matter of manners. A nudge against his hip makes him blush.

"Thanks." Potter rolls his eyes ever so slightly, cutting right to the chase. "So - where's the meeting? Or are you taking me to Azkaban?"

Percy shakes his head. Though that would have been his preferred option as well, Lucius Malfoy would never enter negotiations from such a position of weakness. Pity.

Potter's right eyebrow wanders up, and Percy can't suppress a smirk at the look of confusion on his face. He slips a hand into his pocket, aware of how Potter's wand comes up to aim at him, and not very subtly either. Rummaging through the pocket, he hopes that his... guest will be, if nothing else, at least too mature to bite. He finds the long, sinuous body and lifts it out. The furry tail brushes his knuckles, then drapes loosely around his wrist.

The ferret squints at the sudden brightness after the crisp dark of Percy's pocket, its nose and mouth almost bluishly translucent. It looks haughty and aggravated in equal measure.

"That's him?" Potter blurts out, eyes round as the ferret bristles ever so slightly on Percy's palm. Percy nods, trying not to succumb to a smile as the corners of Potter's mouth curl up in the first honest grin Percy has seen on him in years.

"It was a safe way to bring him from Azkaban without creating undue suspicion in the prisoners or starting rumours among the guards." Malfoy had been distinctly unamused, but at least was pragmatist enough to swallow his objections.

Percy sets the ferret down on the floor, where it crouches very stiffly. He has repeated the reversal incantation again and again in his living room together with the original transfiguration spell, regretting the lack of target to practice on. Jaw set, he intonates the counter-charm on the ferret, waving his wand in just the perfect arc, and Lucius Malfoy rises from the floor in a shudder of limbs, robes and bright hair. He looks ruffled, but in one piece.

Percy's eyes flicker over to Potter even as he tries to aim his own wand in Malfoy's direction while looking as inconspicuous as possible.

The Boy Who Lived gives the Death Eater the tiniest hint of a nod. "Malfoy."

Malfoy's lip twists. "I would say it's good to see you again, Potter, if 'good' wouldn't imply 'you dead at my feet and the whole situation very different'." He shrugs. "But there's no cure for it. I'll have to thank you for liberating me from Azkaban, then?"

"I did no such thing," Potter replies scathingly. "You're just here to answer my questions."

"Come, Mr Potter, if you weren't interested in my information, Percy here would never have gone to all this trouble. You must have been... properly convincing."

Percy, who is coming to realise that he minds Malfoy using his first name in company a lot more than he minds in private, is not surprised to hear Potter snap, "Prove it, then. How come you know about the missing Horcrux? Surely Voldemort-" he all but spits the name onto the carpet - "hasn't been telling you about it."

"Really, Potter, your naivete can be staggering." Malfoy shakes his head, almost bemusedly. "The two most effective lines the Dark Lord has been luring followers in with are 'dominion over the wizarding world', and 'immortality'. Death Eaters, Potter - using the death of a victim to make oneself a little more immune to the dark reaper. It's not as unheard-of a concept as Albus Dumbledore preferred to believe."

Potter's mouth trembles slightly at the mention of the name, but his voice remains steady. "And what of that phial of Ravenclaw's?"

This time, a thin smile materialises on Malfoy's lips outright. "That was my mistake," he admits. "When I found out about its existence, I filed it away as some little detail to ensure my safety. It never occurred to me that the Dark Lord would have created more than one - especially not in the form of a diary already steeped in Dark Magic."

"Yeah, you pissed him off with the diary all right." Potter gives Malfoy's humourless smile right back. "Where is this phial, then?"

"At the chapel of Thirladean Hall, in the Scottish Borders," Malfoy replies without missing a beat.

"And this is where Slytherin is buried?" Percy throws in, only to have both pairs of eyes land on him as if they'd forgotten his presence altogether.

Then Malfoy nods. "Yes."

"I've combed through the Ministry archives for Slytherin's tomb. There was not a single reference to that place."

"Well, you'd have to know where to look." Malfoy smirks and takes a sudden step forward, pulling one of the chairs towards him and settling down on it gracefully. Percy jumps, but Potter just shifts his wand to aim right at the Death Eater's chest and leans his hip against the table.

"Dazzle me, then."

Something sparkles in Malfoy's eye. "You know, of course, that after building the Chamber of Secrets, Slytherin left Hogwarts in disagreement with the other Founders over the admission of Mudbloods?"

"Muggle-borns," Potter corrects coldly. Malfoy ignores him.

"At any rate, he left his House in the hands of his most gifted disciple, and travelled Britain and Europe on his quest for immortality." Potter startles at this, and Malfoy's eyebrows rise. "Yes - like many discerning wizards after him, he was concerned with the diluting effects of Muggle blood on wizarding powers and life spans, and sought to augment those life spans by magic. He undertook most of his research at Castle MacKinnock in Scotland, under the patronage of that influential magical family." He cocks his head in Percy's direction. "Am I on safe ground so far?"

Though he resents being used like this, Percy shrugs. "All of it is quite common knowledge." He's read through every available biography of the mad Founder over the past two weeks, and spent most of his slender savings on a 19th century facsimile copy of Lays of the Founders, a rare collection of anecdotes and legends. Malfoy nods patronisingly, as if he's been expecting no less.

"Although he laid much of the theoretical groundwork that would enable Flamel to create the Philosopher's Stone three hundred years later, Salazar had not been a young man when he left Hogwarts, and his experiments drained him further. He fell mortally ill during his travels through the Scottish Borders. When the story that Slytherin lay dying reached Hogwarts, his successor remembered his loyalties. He stole Rowena Ravenclaw's Phial and fled into the Forbidden Forest, there slaying a unicorn in the hope that its blood would stabilise his Master's condition until a cure could be found."

"Why?" Potter interrupts, eyes blank and uncomprehending. "I mean, why would he steal it from Ravenclaw?"

Malfoy sighs audibly, and even Percy drums his mental fingers against an imaginary tabletop. Honestly, isn't the boy supposed to have turned into a potions prodigy over the last months?

"As a glimpse into Hogwarts, a History would show you, Ravenclaw was the most famous potions maker of her time," Malfoy explains impatiently. "And a Crystallomancer." Potter's frown deepens. "A witch with the ability to magically shape crystals, imbuing them with certain magical properties. In the context of potions, to preserve perishable or volatile fluids. Most of the rarer essences Severus or old Horace keep in their private stores are preserved in crystallomancised containers. During her work at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw crafted the prototype of what we use today. That Phial." He shakes his head and tsks. "How little interest you take in the history of the place that has sheltered you for years..."

Potter grimaces as if the dig had found its way home. "Just go on," he snaps.

"As you wish, Mr Potter." Malfoy shrugs gracefully. "Slytherin's disciple used the Phial to preserve the unicorn's blood - a particularly perishable substance - until he reached Scotland. He found his master on his deathbed, but Salazar refused the cursed existence the cure offered. In outrage, he threw the blood into his pupil's face, and died. He was buried along with the Phial in the chapel of the wizarding family which had taken him in. And buried in secret, as he still had many enemies who might have desecrated his resting place or used his body for unsavoury purposes."

Potter winces at the thought, and Percy throws in, "There is no word in Lays of the Founders as to where he died - how can you claim to know?"

"Yes, that's the, ah, crux of the matter, isn't it?" Malfoy looks up to catch Potter's eye and smirks again. "Listen carefully, Potter - perhaps you'll figure it out and dazzle me for a change?"

Potter glares, but Malfoy continues, unperturbed. "Slytherin's disciple returned to Hogwarts, broken by his master's death, to tell the surviving Founders of Salazar's final choice and fate." He pauses, and smiles thinly. "Then he killed himself to atone for his crime and to preserve the secret of Slytherin's grave until an Heir would come to take up his name."

Percy, who has felt a niggling at the back of his mind ever since Malfoy mentioned the unicorn, hears Potter's sudden gasp. The boy's head snaps up. "The Bloody Baron," he whispers, and immediately the connection falls into place in Percy's head as well.

"That's why he's covered in silver blood," Percy realises. "Unicorn blood is silver."

"Very impressive." Malfoy gives them a small mock bow. "The Baron told young Tom Riddle about the fate of his ancestor, and where to find his grave and the Phial of Ravenclaw. Since there are still traces of the unicorn blood the ghost has been cursed with on the Phial, he is able to sense a change of magical signatures in its location. He knows there's been another curse laid on the artefact, and that it still remains in its place. And that magical traps have most likely been placed around the location. All of which clearly point to the fact that the Phial has indeed been turned into a Horcrux."

Percy muses over it, then bites his lip and shakes his head. "If the Baron only told Tom Riddle, and Professor Dumbledore himself never even suspected Rowena Ravenclaw's artefact although he controlled Hogwarts for decades, how could you know about it? You Know Who is Slytherin's heir. But you aren't."

Malfoy nods again, with that superior attitude of his. "No, I'm not. But the Baron's last living descendant, Selene Umbraville, married Abraxas Malfoy - my father. I am his descendant. And Dumbledore, for all his power, was always quintessentially a Gryffindor whose distaste for Slytherin House was obvious no matter how much lip service he paid to unity. Not the kind of person a disciple of Slytherin's, alive or dead, would come to. It all fits."

"Yes. It all fits." Potter's face is closed off altogether, his shoulders pulled up slightly. "Almost too well. The problem is, Malfoy, I don't trust you. You'd tell me exactly the same story if you wanted to lure me into a trap for Voldemort to make up for your blunders. Same stakes, even."

Malfoy's mouth curves down. "And how do you propose we overcome that little problem, Mr Potter?" Potter's eyes remain icy, and Percy feels a chill running down his spine.

"You take an Unbreakable Vow for me, Malfoy."

The little fool! So in need of a mentor figure that he'll give his trust to a monster like Malfoy instead of turning to the Minister!

And try as he may, Percy does not manage to place the glint in Malfoy's eye - whether Potter did exactly as Malfoy expected or caught him utterly unawares. It has certainly surprised him. Although the boy has seen the results of an Unbreakable Vow in action not very long ago, of course.

"Because I think you value your life above anything - your wife, or Draco, and certainly over Voldemort," Potter explains. "If you betray me, you die. It's the only way I could ever trust you."

"And you're so very certain you've got my measure? Certain enough to stake your life on it? What a brave little boy." This time, there is rage in that calm voice and Percy aims his wand steady.

"Well, will you swear or not?" Potter challenges. "I'm sure Percy can turn you right back into a ferret if that's what you want."

Malfoy's head whips around in his direction so suddenly that Percy flinches. "Yes, Percy, what do you think of Potter's ingenious little scheme?"

Although Percy's first reaction was anger that the boy would turn his back on the Ministry and go to a convicted Death Eater for help instead, there's no denying that Potter's plan is a stroke of sheer brilliance.

Percy clears his throat. "The Ministry prefers that an Unbreakable Vow not be taken without authorisation and supervision from the Sub-Committee for Potentially Precarious Spellwork," he hedges, meeting Potter's look of exasperated aggravation straight on. It is policy, after all.

"Oh, that's all right, then," the boy drawls. "You can authorise and supervise it as our Bonder." He favours Malfoy with a poison-dipped glare. "Unless you'd rather be back in your cell, Mr Malfoy?"

The expression on Malfoy's face makes Percy shudder as the man slowly rises from his chair and approaches Potter until they are face to face, unmindful of the wand that is now digging into the patch of robe directly over his heart.

"Oh, no, Mr Potter, never fear - I will take your Vow."

"Good," Potter comments, and then, without taking eyes off the man for a moment, "Percy?"

Percy swallows. He knows how to Bond, of course. Well, in theory. The Fidelity Vow that new employees take upon entering the Ministry of Magic is nothing but a mild compulsion in comparison, instilling a vague impulse not to make off with office parchment and quills, or owl in sick when one doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning.

"You know what to do, Ha-Potter?" he asks. He'd feel much better if he'd had time to practise this a few times beforehand like the Transfiguration, just to be on the safe side. Though the duty of a Bonder is mainly to act as a witness, not as a participant.

The boy nods. "Hermione owled me all about it - I told her I wanted to find out more about Snape's motives."

Malfoy's mouth twists contemptuously, as if old magic like this should not be mentioned in the same sentence as the name of a Muggleborn.

"Link hands, please." Percy's mouth is horribly dry. Of course he's aware of how the ritual is usually conducted, but he values his life too much to suggest that Lucius Malfoy kneel to Harry Potter. It's just a formality anyway.

They do, Potter with a greater show of reluctance. He's pulled the long sleeve of his robe back, and Percy can see the fine hairs on his arm standing on end. In contrast to Malfoy's pale skin, he looks almost tanned.

"You'll have to put down your wand," Percy says after clearing his throat. "The Vow cannot be taken under any kind of threat or influence."

Potter nods and an instant later his wand clatters onto the tabletop. Malfoy smiles down at him with a horribly predatory leer, and although a spot of colour blooms in Potter's cheeks - it must feel supremely awkward to hold the hand of a mortal enemy, Percy suspects - Potter's expression of single-minded determination reminds Percy of Ron at Wizard Chess just before he starts beating anyone who dares to challenge him.

Percy lifts his wand and lightly settles it upon their joined hands. 'Begin', his lips shape, although the nonverbal spell requires no sound. There is no visible effect, but his wand seems to almost... throb between his fingers, as if it were echoing their mingled pulses. He waits in silence until Potter's eyes flicker to him, then nods and receives the tiniest of acknowledgements in return. Then Potter looks straight at Malfoy.

"Will you, Lucius Malfoy, do everything in your power to help and protect me when we go to get the Ravenclaw Horcrux?"

"I will."

Percy's wand gives an excited buzz, and a cord of fire spills from the tip and snakes around their wrists like a bracelet of liquid scarlet. Potter stares down at where it glows against his wrist, as if he can't believe he's not being burned. Sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip for an instant before he regains his composure.

"Will you, Lucius Malfoy, do nothing to betray me to my enemies - either Lord Voldemort, or any of his Death Eaters, or anyone else who would want to harm me?"

Again, Malfoy inclines his head. "I will."

A second fiery line crosses the first, and Percy feels the magic of the Vow thrum through his wand and settle like a weight in his chest.

Potter sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth again. "Will you, Lucius Malfoy, fight on my side - at my side - to the very best of your abilities until Voldemort is defeated for good?"

Malfoy's head snaps up. He does not pull his hand away, but his eyes burn into Potter's. Percy's wand creaks under the onslaught of a magic that wants to settle, but isn't given the go-ahead, as if it were about to shatter under the pressure. Percy has to hold on to it with both hands to prevent it from jerking out of his grip. Damn you, Potter! he curses inwardly.

"That was not part of the agreement I've negotiated with the Ministry, Potter!" Malfoy growls, low and dangerous.

The boy doesn't back away, which fills Percy with an unwarranted surge of admiration.

"I know," he points out coolly. "But here, you're not dealing with the Ministry - you're dealing with me." It almost takes Percy's breath away, that arrogance.

Malfoy just looks at Potter, at his white, implacable face, at the two fiery bonds creeping unruly around their wrists.

"Oh, Harry, not only do you look like young Tom Riddle," he finally hisses, more venomous than Percy has ever heard him speak. "You're also his brother in spirit!"

"You're not required to agree to this," Percy hears himself say, because it's the truth and the proper thing to point out, but he could just as well not exist for all the attention they pay him.

"If you display the same degree of cunning at tomorrow's search, we just might make it out alive," Malfoy adds softly. Then, he lowers himself onto one knee, never letting go of Potter's hand or taking his gaze off the wild green eyes. His voice lowers into a whisper.

"I will fight for you - to the best of my abilities - until Lord Voldemort has been defeated for good."

Even as the third band of fire twirls round their hands - released at last - Malfoy's free hand comes up to brush Potter's cheekbone. "Until you've won, Harry. After that, there will be a reckoning."

The threat nearly stops Percy's breath, but the cords of flame solidify and curl around each other to form one intricate bracelet of approval. Potter lets out a sound that is almost a giggle, and in this split second, Percy realises that the boy truly does not expect to live to see the day of victory.

Then Potter slumps to his knees with a painful crack, clinging on to Malfoy's hand under the flames until his knuckles shine white.

"And I, Harry Potter, swear to do everything in my power to help your wife and your son." He pauses, then adds, "If I can, and still defeat Voldemort."

It does not create another tendril of fire from Percy's wand, but the magic still presses down on him harshly, and a golden glimmer colours the outside of the scarlet cords binding their wrists.

Malfoy scrutinises the boy for a long moment, then nods slowly. "And will you, Harry, defend my freedom before the Ministry if we succeed in retrieving the Horcrux?"

"I will," Potter promises with a shaky laugh. "You'd be of no bloody use to me at all against Voldemort in Azkaban." Another streak of gold shoots through the flame cords, twisting and swirling until the braided fire glows very brightly for an instant, and then fades around their wrists.

Almost as an afterthought, Percy touches his wand to their linked hands again and mouths, 'So be it.' The oppressive weight on his chest lifts off just like the fireshine did, and then there is just the darkening room and no sign left of the magic wrought.

Both Potter and Malfoy climb to their feet with the air of men caught making a very humiliating spectacle, and Malfoy swipes back a stand of hair that has fallen into his face before purposefully turning to Percy.

"I assume that you have taken steps to ensure the protection of my wife?"

"Yes," Percy replies, happy to be back on familiar ground. "A pair of Aurors fetched her from your Wiltshire mansion this morning, officially to interview her again about your son's whereabouts." He bites his lip. "As soon as your... cooperation is assured, she will be taken to a Ministry safehouse and placed under Fidelius protection." The cold glint in Malfoy's eye shows him that the man got his 'cooperate and we'll protect her' message just fine. "One of our best Aurors has been assigned to the task," he rushes on quickly. "Kingsley Shacklebolt - an expert for personal security."

If Percy wasn't sure that it's impossible, he would think he saw a flash of humour crossing Malfoy's tense face, or heard a soft snicker from Potter where he's back to leaning against the table. The magic must have caused him to hallucinate...

"We have no information on the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy, however," he admits. "Magical Law Enforcement has been dispatched to search for him, and he will be included in the protection scheme if he can be apprehended, but he seems to have vanished."

Malfoy does not look particularly apprehensive at the thought. "I imagine he is quite safe where he is now," he says. "Severus has taken an Unbreakable Vow for him before - I'm sure he will protect him still."

"Until I find him." Potter's voice cuts into the conversation, and Percy can't help but think that the face of a seventeen-year-old should not be able to show such hatred.

With a very cold look, and a purposefully brusque gesture, Malfoy turns to Percy. "If that is all, I'd like to retire for the night." At Potter's surprised frown, he adds, "I presume that Percy has reserved a room for me?" Percy nods, and Malfoy rises up to his full height, rolling his shoulders ever so slightly. "If I'm to be risking my life tomorrow in the cause of famous Harry Potter, I fully intend to spend the rest of this wretched night in a hot bath and a comfortable bed. After all, we could wind up dead tomorrow." His face pulls into a grimace. "Moreover, I'll have to purchase a wand before we head to Scotland, and I'd prefer to do so during opening hours."

"They didn't give his back in Azkaban?" Potter inquires from Percy with a touch of impatience.

As Malfoy's expression turns even stormier, Percy shakes his head. "It is policy to burn the wand of every prisoner committed to Azkaban indefinitely - a crime against the magical community revokes a wizard's right to carry a wand at all times."

"Tomorrow, then," Malfoy snarls at Potter, but pauses on his way to the door and holds out his hand for the key. Percy pulls it out of his pocket, its minuscule wings fluttering against his palm, and as he hands it over, Malfoy steps up so close that Percy can smell the slight hint of sea salt that pervades everything on Azkaban island.

Malfoy lowers his head and whispers into Percy's ear, "Come and speak to me when you're done with him." Without waiting for a reply, he snatches the key from Percy's fingers and stalks out.

***

Silence reigns for a long moment after Malfoy has left the room. At last, Potter turns to peer out of the single grimy window, his back to Percy.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me I violated protocol or something?"

"I think you came up with an inspired solution," Percy admits truthfully after collecting his thoughts. "I'm beginning to understand why the Hat considered you for Slytherin."

"But you didn't like it," Potter states. "Don't try to deny it. I saw your face."

"I think you should not have made him a vow in return. It's... dangerous to bind yourself to someone like Malfoy," Percy says.

"But it worked, right? I didn't turn it invalid or something?"

"No, it Bonded you all right," Percy assures him. "It almost looked like some ancient fealty rite. Still, I think he's... a very dangerous man," he repeats helplessly. It's only part of the truth, of course. He has felt the trap closing around Malfoy, and it reminded him too much of the day he left the Burrow for good. A forced path with no escape. And Malfoy comparing Potter to You Know Who...

"I had to," Potter confesses. "I couldn't let him risk his life for me for nothing. But no, I don't trust him either, no matter what."

"Can we afford not to believe him?" Percy asks.

Potter turns, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. "No."

"Perhaps you should go and get some sleep," Percy advises gently. "It looks as if tomorrow will be draining."

Potter fiddles with a corner of the bedcovers, wadding it aimlessly between his fingers. "You know you don't have to come."

"Don't be a fool, Harry," Percy admonishes, trying to lighten his tone. "The Minister would have my head if I let a notorious Death Eater run off unsupervised before he has properly earned his parole." He picks his briefcase up from the table and repeats, "Go and get some sleep."

***

Back in his room, Percy finds himself staring blankly into the fireplace. The afternoon drizzle has left the air chilly and wet. A fire would be nice, and the elves have left wood in the grate, but Percy glares at the logs and can't work up the energy to actually light them. He should probably eat something, but his throat tightens at the thought, and he's too restless to go to bed.

He does not really want to talk to Malfoy behind Potter's back. Harry already has betrayal issues. To be honest, he does not want to talk to Malfoy alone full stop. If it's really important, surely Malfoy will come to him...

After half an hour of restless pacing, he steps back out into the corridor. He'll just check if everything is quiet - maybe then he'll feel calm enough to go to sleep. The corridor is dark, no light shining out from any of the doors because of the wards. Percy tiptoes to listen at Potter's door, careful not to let his ear come into contact with the wood. It is dead silent inside, and suddenly he feels stupid, trying to eavesdrop as if he were still a little child at the Burrow.

And yet he pauses before Malfoy's door on the way back to his room, lingering and cursing himself and trying to breathe noiselessly. He is not going to knock!

He turns to his own room, and freezes as Malfoy's door swings open out of the blue. Light from the inside spills over Percy's side and hip and finally over his shock-pale face.

Lucius Malfoy leans against the wooden door jamb, his face inscrutable as if he knew that the slightest hint of a smirk would send Percy streaking off like a wet Kneazle. Malfoy has lit his fire, and the flames crackle happily in the grate, warmth radiating out into the corridor to caress Percy's face. The fireshine throws a rosy shimmer on Malfoy's skin. He's wrapped in the Cauldron's standard issue white bathrobe, wet hair combed out and hanging over his shoulder. A few drops of water are still dotting his collarbone, and Percy looks away quickly.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Percy mumbles, his face aflame.

Malfoy is not quite as sleek as he has been before his incarceration, but where Azkaban can dull a normal prisoner's edge even with the Dementors gone, it has only served to hone Malfoy's. The sharp angles of his cheekbones testify to it.

"Come to bed, Percy?"

Percy's mouth opens in shock. He's as good as engaged to Penny, and he's hardly ever been attracted to men. Back in school, he'd traded a few kisses with Chaser Adrian Pucey, but it never went beyond that. Pucey was a Slytherin, and Percy had always suspected him wanting the Head Boy, rather than him. And Malfoy has already made his Vow to Potter - what can he possibly expect to gain from bedding Percy now? They aren't even friends.

He can only shake his head in helpless protest.

Malfoy's gaze keeps holding him until the tension becomes too much - like the pressure from the Vow not long ago. Percy shivers and takes a step back, eyes searching for the refuge of his own door. He takes another step into the corridor when Malfoy's hand closes around his wrist, stopping him in mid-move with his head averted. A large, long-fingered hand, holding him with all the fleetingness of a ghost's touch. He could slip out of the grip with no effort at all. But the very lightness of the hold makes it impossible to escape. Malfoy can't possibly mean it... he should want Potter if anyone, after the Vow bound them together so spectacularly, not a nobody like Percy...

"We could all be dead tomorrow," Malfoy repeats, and Percy sucks in a breath that hitches in his throat like the sob of a very small bird. He lets himself be drawn inside, into the circle of Malfoy's arms, and the door closes softly behind him.

~ tbc. ~