The Phoenix and the Serpent

Harry was not looking forward to being Draco Malfoy, even for half an hour, even to pass his Potions practical test for the OWLs. It was not as if it was going to give him any insights. It would, however, mark an end to over a month of concentrated effort to work with Malfoy in all the minutiae of Polyjuice Potion preparation. He was quite sure Malfoy hated the enforced cooperation as much as he did.

He had worked out by now that Professor Snape had paired them to work on the potion to ensure that nothing worse than frustration marred the test. Afterwards Malfoy could go back to his vicious childish games, and Harry to trying to ignore him, where it wasn't necessary to thwart him. Harry felt confident that Malfoy would not sabotage the test at the last minute; he had seen the reflexive terror Malfoy displayed at the thought of his father's anger should he fail the test. Having seen Hermione illicitly preparing polyjuice three years ago, Harry was aware that (little as he might like it) Malfoy was good at this; he might as well get something out of the association.

The class settled quickly as Professor Snape swept in with his patented bat-wing swirl of robes. Harry had wondered once, when totally out of patience with his unfair treatment of the Gryffindors, whether there was a way of jinxing those robes to take Snape's mind off his nasty pleasures. Ron's eye had lit up at the thought, but Hermione, the one most likely to be able to find a suitable jinx, had firmly refused to be party to it. She had given them a lecture on their being morally in the right, and how they should not discard that advantage. It did not seem to disturb her that the 'advantage' had been meaningless for nearly five years.

Perhaps, however, Dumbledore had had a word with Snape about equity. Not only were he and Malfoy paired; Hermione had been matched with Neville Longbottom, who would have been far better at Potions without his terror of Snape. Maybe Snape justified this to his twisted mind as a way of minimising damage to the other students' examination results.

Harry did not particularly care that Snape was out of temper (more than usual); it might be a problem that Malfoy was still absent. In memory he gloated that Malfoy's own frustration had expressed itself in attempting to hex Harry in the sight not only of Snape, who would certainly have penalised Harry for it, but also of Professor McGonagall. She had insisted on summary justice, and when Snape refused insisted on their taking the 'problem' to Dumbledore; so off they had gone with Malfoy dragging at their heels like a reluctant dog on a leash. So where was the prat?

Malfoy came in hurriedly, to get his share of Snape's scowl; unusual, that. He appeared quite unmoved by it, though. He joined Harry at their work table looking - not cheerful, but certainly smirking.

Snape did not have to call for silence, or attention. The students produced their shared vials of potion and divided them on demand. Harry had a hair of his head ready to add to the potion Malfoy would swallow; he was glad to see that Malfoy too had chosen a hair rather than something more ughsome, like a toenail clipping.

Potions were exchanged, and swallowed. Harry hardly had time to notice the slight reddish tinge of the hair Malfoy had dropped in. Before he could wonder why Malfoy, unlike the rest of them, had delayed drinking, he could feel the changes starting.

It hurt.

He remembered it had been extremely uncomfortable turning into Goyle three years ago, but he and Malfoy were about the same height and weight now, as both had grown quite a bit during fifth year, so surely it should not be so - downright painful?

By the time the pain knocked him off his feet a few seconds later Harry was screaming.

~~HP~~LM~~

The students around him were shaken out of their own concentration on polyjuice changes by his violent contortions, and the way the robes over his back were bumping about, their smooth fall grossly distorted. The increasingly frightening sounds he was making would have drawn their attention no matter how self-absorbed they were.

Hermione, still getting used to Neville's vision and greater height, exclaimed, "He's in agony!"

Snape pushed her aside impatiently, seizing Harry's shoulders and dragging him bodily to the front of the class, snarling, "Stop dramatising yourself, Potter, you're not in any danger!"

To the class he shouted, over Harry's screams, "Settle down the lot of you and write up your observations as you're supposed to!"

Harry abruptly disappeared from their sight, as Snape erected a Veil of Privacy. Then they could no longer hear him.

Hermione muttered worriedly, "A Cone of Silence! Oh, it is worse?"

Draco Malfoy grinned, and reached for his glass of potion - which was no longer there.

~~HP~~LM~~

Harry was trying to pull off his robes and shirt; Snape helped him, at last convinced this was not some Gryffindor prank. He discovered the scarlet wings underlaid with gold which were rapidly developing from Harry's shoulder blades. Harry was past modesty, and scrambled out of the rest of his clothes, revealing the glorious red-gold tail (not that Snape thought of it that way) now growing from the base of his spine, as well as the red down on his ribs and flanks.

Snape's thoughts were more along the lines of, 'Oh Merlin. I will beat that little fool Draco to death to teach him not to take risks like this! In an OWLs practical exam, too!'

Snape realised he needed help. Examinations and Polyjuice Potion were sufficient to ensure the class at the best of times would have required careful watching, without the stress of something mysterious wrong with Potter. He conscripted Miss Granger (currently looking like Mr Longbottom, but still calm and coherent - emphatically not Longbottom) for her common sense and her willingness to help Potter, while he dealt with what only he could handle.

He had to devote some time to calming his students again; quite a few of them were panicking about the thought something might turn out to be wrong with them as well. Unlike Hermione, they had not done Polyjuice Potion before.

Then he could turn his attention to an alarmed Draco Malfoy still standing untransformed. His eye was caught by the vial of brownish liquid in the hands of - no, not Mr Zabini, Mr Weasley. Snape took the opportunity to relieve his feelings. That Ron currently looked like Blaise Zabini was probably just as well.

In mid-tirade he snatched the glass and thrust it at Draco snarling, "Drink, now, Mr Malfoy!"

Without daring to ask if it was his partner's share of the potion Draco did so.

Once at least nominal order was restored Snape started a fire with Incendio and used Floo powder to summon Professor Dumbledore to the disaster zone, asking that if possible another teacher should come to supervise the test.

The headmaster and Professor McGonagall came at once.

McGonagall took on supervision of the test, while the two men joined Harry and Hermione in the shelter of the Veil.

Harry was tumbled naked on his knees on the floor, enormous wings spread, mantling frantically, and long tail unfurled, its lengthening display feathers fully extended. He was no longer screaming, but whimpering from residual pain and growing terror. His head was in Hermione's lap, his arms gripping her waist. She was holding him as best she could with the great wings sweeping about, and trying to comfort and calm him, reminding him that being a cat hadn't been great, but Madam Pomfrey had cured her all right.

When the adults lifted his body up feathers were still visibly sprouting. Quills of new feathers pushed out, dark blue because rich in blood. The feathers shed their sheaths, changing, maturing, the filaments drying, fluffing out, then the barbs began to cling and smooth the lie of the feathers. To Hermione it looked like a process captured by high-speed photography.

An outer layer of small, closely-laid feathers was rapidly concealing the downy filaments growing thick over Harry's sides and down his back under the wings to the base of his spine, though not over his buttocks. No feathers were growing on his belly, or his limbs, or on his head.

Dumbledore muttered thankfulness for that.

Hermione asked sharply, "Since the feathers are still sprouting how can you know Harry isn't going to wind up covered in feathers?"

"Because it hasn't already started. The wings and tail appear fully formed, though the feathers in both are still thickening, lengthening -"

Snape interrupted on a snarl. "Headmaster, how has the wretched boy done this to himself?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but Dumbledore spoke first, his voice low and calming. "We can be confident he did not. He drank his proper share of the potion, did he not?"

Hermione said at once, "Yes," and Snape more slowly and reluctantly confirmed that he had actually watched Potter take up and drink the glass which Malfoy gave him.

Harry's agony of high-speed growth appeared to be lessening. The feathers over his ribs and back and flanks were the only ones still sprouting, and they were much smaller, finer, than the great strong primaries on the wings or the long wind-manipulating feathers of the tail.

It became evident that Dumbledore was right. Harry was not going to be feathered all over. His body was still that of a boy, his limbs intact; it had acquired wings and tail, rather than being transformed to the body of a bird. His head was still covered with fine, disorderly black hair, mercifully lacking plumes. Nor, it appeared, was he going to have a beak, or talons. Dumbledore pointed out in a low voice to Snape that Harry still had his penis, too. Hermione shut out the muttered query from Snape as to whether Potter was likely to acquire a gizzard, or a crop.

The pale skin of his chest and belly and limbs seemed to be made additionally conspicuous by the rich colouration of the feathers. They were the scarlet and gold feathers of a phoenix, that most gentle and powerful of magical creatures.

The partial coating of smaller feathers glowed, clinging to his sides and to his back between wings and tail. The wings and tail were now fully grown, the tail complete with three gorgeous display plumes. Both were larger than those of the phoenix they all knew. Fawkes was still in Dumbledore's office, several floors above.

Hermione was not disconcerted by Harry's nakedness. She never had seen a naked boy before, or touched one in the dark, either. However, being physically male herself (a sensation that had for a short while engaged all her attention, and something at the back of her mind was still industriously taking notes) distanced any embarrassment her concern for Harry might have let her feel. When the easing of the over-mastering pain allowed him at last to be conscious of being quite uncovered save for selective feathering, he tried to conceal himself with his hands. Hermione snatched up his shirt and tied it loosely round him like an apron, being careful not to constrict the wings or disturb the lie of the back feathers.

Harry sagged back, resting his head on her bent knees, while his hands clutched at hers. She winced at the strength of his grip, but did not complain.

It was Dumbledore who said quietly, "Harry, I think you are hurting - ah, is this Miss Granger, perhaps?"

Maybe it was logic; Hermione knew he could not see through Polyjuice Potion changes as he could through invisibility cloaks. Then she glanced down at herself, and saw her hands were reverting from Neville's large but soft hands to her own smaller, slimmer, harder ones. The half hour must be ending. She was grateful that Harry's hold almost at once slackened, though he still clung.

Now he was aware of the presence of the headmaster, Harry calmed down a lot. Trying to conquer panic by turning to the frankly trivial, he said that since Hermione was months in the infirmary getting over her partial self-transformation to Millicent Bulstrode's cat he supposed he would be too, but could he take the rest of his OWLs there?

Dumbledore agreed soothingly, though Hermione saw the sharp look Snape gave him, which was not, she thought, resentment of favouritism.

Dumbledore summoned up a cloak and led Harry away to the infirmary while Snape resumed control of his class and Hermione returned to her partner.

The half hour of transformation was ending for a number of students; soon Hermione and Neville, among the first to exchange potions, were restored to themselves.

Once all the students except Draco were restored Snape dismissed them, after admonishing them stringently not to chatter.

"If you gossip not only I but the headmaster will make your lives miserable!"

Hermione was wretchedly certain that the warning would only lessen the volume of the students' gossip, not its extent, though only she knew what had occurred behind Snape's Veil of Privacy. All they had to go on was the panic stations, followed by the headmaster leading Harry, cloaked from head to foot, from the classroom. Food enough for gossip.

What Hermione wanted to concentrate on was proof. She ignored Ron's frantic questions and followed Harry to the infirmary, Ron hurrying after, still incapable of silence or patience. She was determined to wait until she could speak with Dumbledore and give him the small sample she had taken from the potion Malfoy had delayed drinking, before Ron snatched it up to stare accusingly first at it and then at Malfoy. Malfoy had certainly turned into Harry, though for a shorter period of time, she was sure.

~~HP~~LM~~

Once Draco, still a polyjuiced Harry, was left alone with him, Snape warned him he was going to have to report this idiocy to Lucius. Draco was horrified.

Snape asked cuttingly, "How did you think it was ever going to be kept from your father? Do you believe the headmaster won't complain to the governors and the Ministry of Magic itself, let alone Lucius, about the transformation of one of his favourite Gryffindors? Do you know how difficult it is to undo animal transformation achieved with Polyjuice Potion?"

Snape waited, arms folded, unspeaking, displaying his best glare, while Draco Malfoy drooped over a desk, blind to the glare's magnificence without Potter's glasses, and waited for the potion to wear off, at leisure to consider what was no longer a prank but probably a serious offence. And it had seemed such a good idea less than an hour ago.

He had been standing in the headmaster's office, bored with McGonagall and Snape's heated disagreement. He was still cocky with self-righteous anger and becoming resentful of the headmaster's consistent favouring of Gryffindor over Slytherin, watching Fawkes the phoenix for want of better entertainment. He had noticed the small feather lying on the edge of the bowl beneath the phoenix's perch. The Great Thought of the Day had come to him: take feather, transform feather, put in potion instead of my hair, and watch Potter turn into a bird! Never did see Granger as a cat, if the rumours were true. This ought to be good. Teach that git Potter not to annoy me.

'Oh Salazar, when will I learn to think? My father will kill me if this embarrasses him. Except that I think Snape is going to kill me first. What are they going to hang on me - assault? malicious transformation? Father will Crucio me for gross stupidity. Again.'

~~HP~~LM~~

Harry stayed in the infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey doing her best, starting the same maddeningly slow process that had restored Hermione to herself after her reckless mistake.

Professor Snape observed, in deepening gloom, with a view to research. It seemed probable that transformation to a phoenix would be harder to rectify than transformation to an ordinary, non-magical, cat.

Dumbledore, ominously, was not commenting, though he visited Harry frequently and did all he could to sustain the boy's spirits. He did try the experiment of using Fawkes's tears on Harry, which the bird willingly shed, in the hope that they would heal the transformation. It was not successful, and that night Harry lay dry-eyed and sleepless, staring into the future, until Madam Pomfrey gave him a potion for dreamless sleep.

No one outside that small group had heard about Harry's phoenix attributes yet. The only witness, Hermione Granger, had been sworn to secrecy by both her friend and her headmaster, and seemed to recognise its importance. Not even Lucius knew; Dumbledore had barred it. Snape could not work out whether to protest or to be grateful, so he kept his mouth shut.

After a week, however, when exams were over and term was nearly at an end, Harry was still as much phoenix as ever, and Snape taxed Dumbledore with knowing he was stuck like that.

Dumbledore agreed calmly that this was quite possible, but said the time has been useful: Harry had regained a lot of his balance, helped by Hermione, his sole regular visitor. Snape's round-the-clock reading and experiment suggested that reversing the process might be impossible, but it would take quite some time to be absolutely sure of that.

Harry was going to have to stay in the infirmary, either until he could be restored to himself, or until it was clear it could not be done. In the first case he could not return to the Dursleys at term's end; in the second he could not go to them visibly part bird. Yet Harry needed to be able to return to them to benefit from the protective charm Dumbledore had created when he left the baby Harry with his only remaining blood relative. If Harry remained part phoenix, Dumbledore would need to devise some glamour to hide his phoenix aspects from his family. It would be much harder concealing them from wizards, and he did not wish Harry to hope for that.

Draco was already, if not remorseful, duly regretful; a lot of the cockiness has been knocked out of him. He had seen where unbridled malice could get him, and if his primary concern was his father's anticipated anger, it was still a real and strong concern. That regret would help when his folly became more widely known. Dumbledore pointed out that they had time to consider how to present the information to Lucius as well as to the wizarding world.

~~HP~~LM~~

All the students except Harry left school.

Ron was still ignorant of what had happened to Harry but, since Malfoy was involved, suspected the worst.

Hermione tackled her holiday homework at once to take her mind off her worry over Harry and her growing exasperation with Ron, glad to be away from his bewildered and increasingly resentful complaints because she insisted she could tell him nothing. The company of her parents was consoling, even if they could remedy none of the ills of the wizarding world.

Draco Malfoy himself went home uncharacteristically sober and obliging. He made his parents wonder if he were ill, since for once he did not whine for things his father did not want to give him, hardly complained about school at all, and did everything he was asked, if a trifle listlessly. Lucius Malfoy began to suspect that the boy thought he had done badly on his OWLs, but refrained from taxing him with it. Draco's very satisfying results, in mid-July, removed that concern, and Lucius was somewhat relieved when they seemed to cheer Draco up - a little.

The Dursleys received a polite letter advising them that their nephew was remaining at school until he recovered from illness. Vernon Dursley sent back a letter flatly refusing to have Harry in the house until their doctor certified him clear of any infection which might harm Dudley.

When he was shown that Harry snorted, "Good riddance to you too, Uncle Vernon!"

He would not care if he never went back to number 4 Privet Drive, and it vexed him that the headmaster still intended for him to do so as soon as possible. He knew the reason for that insistence now, and wished heartily that Dumbledore had found any other means to protect him. He did not need, on top of his present isolation and misery, to be aware of daily hatred, fear and malice.

Harry had a wonderful sixteenth birthday. He had been part phoenix for nearly five weeks now, and Professor Snape had yet another potion to try on him in the attempt to reverse the transformation. Like all the others, and all Madam Pomfrey's and Professor Dumbledore's charms, it failed. It did make him direly sick, but that was no longer a surprise. Thwarted magic had to go somewhere.

Harry's only consolation was birthday cards and presents which his friends owled to him. At least at Hogwarts he received his birthday mail. Not just Ron and Hermione, but Neville, Ginny and the twins and Mrs Weasley, and even Cho and Angelina, had remembered him. He had by now had letters from some other students too, and if they were fishing for gossip most of them did so gracefully, and expressed what seemed sincere hopes for a recovery from whatever Draco Malfoy's contribution to their Polyjuice Potion had inflicted on him.

Harry carefully set out all his cards where he could see them in the corner of the infirmary that had become his own, and added the books Hermione and Cho had sent him to the heap of school textbooks and books borrowed from the Library. He was doing a lot of reading these days, since Dumbledore would not let him out of the infirmary despite the wonderful summer and the perfect flying weather.

It might have been interesting to find out whether wings made any difference to his ability to fly a broomstick. There were, after all, no rules forbidding Quidditch players to have wings, never mind forbidding them to use them. Harry had grinned more than once at the thought of Malfoy's dismay if he still had wings of some sort at their next Quidditch match as his enemy's gift, and they improved his abilities as a Seeker. They would thrash Slytherin! Probably by then the wings would be gone; it didn't matter, Gryffindor would still beat the Slytherins into the ground.

At last Madam Pomfrey and Professors Dumbledore and Snape agreed that that there were no more avenues to try.

Dumbledore's concern seemed to have shifted to ensuring that Harry would not attempt to fly. Snape wondered if his real concern was that Harry Potter might be willing to tumble out of a tower window in a nominal attempt to use his wings, but more likely intending to put an end to himself. He thought that mistaken. Mr Potter seemed to be adjusting quite well to having wings. However, while he himself would not miss the brat, he had to acknowledge the importance Harry had to the Order of the Phoenix in the resistance to Voldemort, so he watched the boy as sharply as the rest of them did.

Once Harry was released from the infirmary the knowledge of his partial transformation to phoenix would not be private for long. There was no longer any real reason to keep him there. He was not sick, not crippled; he had adapted fairly well to having wings and a tail, however useless and ugly he thought them. His only problem was a deep reluctance to let himself be seen, despite his fantasies of using his wings at Quidditch.

Snape insisted it was time Lucius was told.

Dumbledore said, "No, it's time Harry was given the opportunity to decide who should be told, and how. After he has had time to absorb his life-sentence. His eternity-sentence, possibly. Time will tell whether Harry is a phoenix in that too. Perhaps not to mention the possibility to him yet?"

Snape gulped secretly and agreed.

Harry's fragile composure deserted him completely when he learned the wings and tail were there to stay. He screamed and raged and cried. Then he asked to talk to his friends, but he begged, "Please don't tell anyone else!"

Dumbledore ensured that Hermione and Ron arrived by the Knight Bus after an unusually direct trip.

Harry was still pretty much a wreck when they came. Hermione had, as requested, still not told Ron what happened. Ron reacted as badly as possible - he was not just horrified for Harry, and at the news that he could not be changed back, but he showed a personal queasiness: he did not want to touch Harry.

At first Hermione managed to prevent Harry from noticing by sitting beside him and putting her arms around him. The great wings shuddered, but then lay still again when she stroked their feathers gently down.

Unfortunately Harry noticed Ron's reaction to that.

Harry allowed Hermione to cuddle him, shrinking from looking at Ron again. He needed the assurance that to her, at least, he was not horrible, unnatural, though he felt it deeply himself.

Ron began to rant about Malfoy and how he should be punished.

Harry pulled himself together as he had learned to do after five weeks of enduring this self-hatred, and assured him that this would happen. Dumbledore had confirmed that Malfoy would pay an appropriate penalty.

"What about your OWLs results?" Hermione asked, hoping to change the subject.

Half way through July Harry had been allowed to take the rest of his OWLs, since he had been in isolation, and Hermione has been sworn to silence about the tests in an unbreakable compact with Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged. "They're nothing outstanding, though I passed everything. A few Es, for Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions too - I can't imagine what got into Snape, he must be feeling guilty about what his prize pupil did - mostly As. An O for Defence Against Dark Arts, and another for Care of Magical Creatures. But who's going to employ bird-man? Do I need them?"

Hermione attacked that point of view, not for the first time, and Harry listened fairly docilely. It was better than listening to Ron going on uselessly about 'that git Malfoy' as if there was no distinction between this latest 'prank' and the odd insult, shove, or deliberate attempt to trap him in rule-breaking.

Harry accepted that Draco Malfoy had not intended what happened to be permanent, but that did not mean his world was not shaken to its roots.

Ron was uncharacteristically quiet when Madam Pomfrey chased him and Hermione out to go to dinner in the Great Hall with the few staff members still living at Hogwarts, and after that he disappeared.

Hermione only found out what he had done when a flock of Aurors turned up late in the evening demanding to see Harry, with a view to arresting Draco Malfoy for the crime of attempting to poison a fellow student with Polyjuice Potion adulterated with a phoenix feather. Not all of them were hopeful of making the arrest stick (or indeed of making the arrest, if he stayed home at Malfoy Manor, where it would be almost impossible to get at him without his father's consent), but they clearly planned to do their best.

Dumbledore acceded to their demands to interview Harry, but refused to leave him alone with them.

Afterwards, when Harry had been left in peace, Hermione screamed at Ron. "Did you ask Harry what he wanted? No. Did you ask Dumbledore's permission? Merlin, no. You brat. You wanker, that's what you boys say, isn't it? Selfish sod, more concerned with attacking your family's enemy than in helping your friend!"

Ron protested, and Hermione treated him to a fine assortment of home truths.

Snape came along in the middle of this, already distressed, little though it showed, and warned Ron that he'd better look out.

"I am not going to forget this, Mr Weasley. You may consider yourself extremely lucky this is the school holidays and you will be returning home soon. And as Draco is probably being dragged off to Azkaban right now, I have little doubt Lucius Malfoy won't forget either. This won't do your father any good; he may well lose his job over it, and your brother Percy too, since he works for the Ministry. Lucius Malfoy has a lot of influence there."

Ron was appropriately dismayed, but Hermione did not relent. After a marginally happier Snape swept away leaving appalled realisation behind him, she just had more to scream at him about.

Hermione marched off to the infirmary to discuss Ron's thoughtlessness with Harry and found he agreed with her: as a penalty Azkaban was inappropriate.

He had been horrified to discover from the Aurors there was a penalty much greater than a fine or detention for something that, however vicious, was only intended to be a schoolboy prank.

A Gryffindor had got away with attempted murder, when Sirius had attempted to expose Snape to Remus in his werewolf state. Harry by now was ready to acknowledge that his godfather had deliberately done that, however he hated the thought. Why then should not a Slytherin get away with gross inconvenience that he did not know could have been murder, and did not expect to be incurable? Malfoy would have thought he could be cured just as Hermione was three years ago.

It was obvious to Harry that Professor Dumbledore had intended to suppress knowledge of this attack just as he had successfully done with Sirius all those years ago, and he thought that not unfair.

Harry became very agitated, and was quite surprised that Dumbledore, when he turned up with his usual instinct for the appropriate moment, did not reprove Hermione for causing it by telling Harry what Ron had done.

Afterwards Harry muttered to Hermione, "He seems very suspiciously calm about it. I swear he didn't mean for Malfoy to be punished like this."

He shared with her some of his suspicions - he had finally realised how very convenient Dumbledore had found all the dreadful things that had happened to them, and him especially, over the years. Starting, quite possibly, with ten years in a cupboard with the Dursleys.

It was a long time before Harry went to sleep, brooding over Malfoy's arrest and what he would face in Azkaban. He was astonished that he cared, but accepted that he did not, after all, hate his rival so thoroughly as to wish unlimited ill on him, as Ron had done. Sobering thoughts.

Malfoy needed to learn better, not to be destroyed. What he had done could have been fatal, seemed to be irretrievable, had tragic results, but it had not been meant. Harry's own experience of the Dementors inclined him to want to help Malfoy. He could not envisage freely turning anyone he knew over to them, except perhaps Voldemort, and he thought there would be safer and more final means of dealing with him, if he was ever defeated again.

Much as Harry disliked the other boy, he did not really hate him - they had worn into ritual hostility that only occasionally sparked into the fresh vindictiveness Malfoy had shown this last time. Malfoy had made a vicious child's mistake, striking out in blind impulsiveness, not an adult wizard's attempt to kill a rival.

~~HP~~LM~~

Dumbledore refused to discuss with Snape what he had intended to do about punishing Draco, if he had not intended to invoke the very obscure law Draco had violated.

"It's too late for what I might have done, Severus. Now all we can do is advise Lucius, as quickly as possible, and alert him to the consequences of his son's actions."

Late that night Dumbledore and Snape contacted Lucius at Malfoy Manor and broke the bad news. Lucius Malfoy had a screaming fit at their keeping from him what Draco had done, and especially at the danger he had all along been in, giving himself time to think it through, but Snape interrupted. He knew Lucius very well, after all. Lucius would go on ranting until he was ready to respond, but he needed to know the follow-up news: the secret was out, at least to the Ministry, and Draco had been arrested and taken to Azkaban.

Since Draco had been partying with friends at the Leaky Cauldron for Blaise Zabini's birthday, the Aurors had picked him up with no trouble at all.

Snape said grimly, "The crime has a statutory punishment, and the evidence is sitting right there in the Hogwarts infirmary. Draco's only hope is that the potion did not poison Potter. That it turned him into a phoenix instead is probably not going to be considered a great improvement."

Lucius stopped screaming and went very quiet.

Now Dumbledore put in his word. "The law also allows for the perpetrator to be let off, altogether, if the victim survives and will both excuse him and speak up on his behalf: say so, publicly. Lucius, you need to consider this. The only way to get Draco out of Azkaban is for Harry to agree to help him."

~~HP~~LM~~

While this conversation was going on, a lot of other people were finding out too. Voldemort had excellent contacts in the Ministry - as Lucius had, but his Ministry contacts could not get to him, since Dumbledore and Snape got in first. At least the news had not yet reached as far as the Daily Prophet.

Voldemort went into conference - obviously Draco had done this for him, to show how worthy he was.

"Good intentions, but are the results what I would have liked if I had been brought into it?"

He summoned Lucius and unlike Lucius's Ministry contacts he had his immediate attention - Lucius was still talking with Dumbledore and Snape, but the Dark Mark caught a Death Eater's attention infallibly.

Lucius hastily excused himself, saying he would want to speak with Harry as soon as possible. Dumbledore made hum-haw noises, but though this made Lucius desperate, he had not time to argue with the vexatious old man now.

He Apparated into his master's hall, and promptly responded to Voldemort's mixture of veiled threat and restrained congratulation.

"I agree, my Lord, that Draco meant it for the best, though it's costing him high. It may be difficult to get him out of Azkaban, but my son thought of that too. He knows that Harry Potter, as a Gryffindor, is far readier to forgive than a Slytherin would be, and Draco relies on my talking Potter into doing just that. Meanwhile, Master, my impulsive but loyal son is in Azkaban, so I must speak with Potter. While I am doing that, is there any information you wish me to secure? This is a perfect opportunity to penetrate Hogwarts security and cross-question that wretched boy, who ought to be considerably less cocky than when we saw him last."

"You will do this my way, not yours," Voldemort reproved, with a dash of Crucio for reminder.

Lucius managed to refrain from screaming, though when he rose from the floor his lips were bleeding, and his left hand was bitten to the bone.

"By all means take advantage of this opportunity your son has provided, but finding out what profit this transformation offers me comes ahead of winning forgiveness and release for Draco. That naturally that will be attended to in due course. You need not fear, Lucius. Malfoy loyalty will be rewarded, and your Draco's safe enough. He could possibly use the opportunity to reflect on the dangers of impulsive action, in any case. A little object lesson. When he comes to serve me as one of my sworn Death Eaters he must learn to seek my approval before following his fancy, as you have learned, Lucius."

Lucius was not in agreement about his heir's safety, but one experience of Crucio had been enough. "Yes, Master," he assented quietly. "What do you wish me to do?"

Voldemort went into detail about the information Lucius should bring back: how complete was the transformation, what phoenix qualities did the boy assuredly have, what did he lack, what might he have. All his minions should give thought to how to get proof of the latter.

"Immortality, of course, is the prize I may be able to win from this. If that is so, Lucius and his son will be honoured above all others."

Someone more competent than Wormtail has already begun the research, and reported that this poison should have been fatal.

In some irritation Voldemort said, "But the brat survived: Lily again, no doubt. Drat the woman, is anyone ever going to be able to kill her son?"

Voldemort smiled. "I must test that again some time, since if that was Draco's intention he failed. Presumably Draco expected, too, that Lily's magic would again protect her son - if it didn't, he would still have done an enormous service. Once I would have accounted it a supreme service, but this transformation - ah, the possibilities it offers! Go, Lucius, see the boy, find out what he can give me!"

As he bowed obediently Lucius reflected that hindsight was a wonderful distorting glass.

~~HP~~LM~~

Lucius delayed only to heal his wounds and restore his appearance to its customary elegance, discarding his bloody robes.

Early in the morning he went to the Ministry of Magic and was shocked to discover himself unwelcome. Minister Fudge was apparently unwilling to be bribed or coerced into over-ruling his Aurors. Only then did Lucius turn to what he had been bidden to do.

He got in to Hogwarts more easily than he had expected. Dumbledore asked him to handle Harry carefully - the boy was still very distressed. He had found out Draco Malfoy had been arrested, and was not pleased.

Dumbledore summoned Severus Snape to escort Lucius to the infirmary.

"Lucius, you may not wander Hogwarts alone, and if you try the alarms will go off, so please don't embarrass yourself. You don't have a governor's freedom of movement now, remember."

Lucius did not even bother to snarl.

On the way to the infirmary Severus told Lucius who was responsible for his son's arrest and incarceration, but asked Lucius not to act on this at least until Draco was safe. Lucius could readily assent. He would have plenty of time to deal with Arthur Weasley and his treacherous spawn. And, in due course, with Cornelius Fudge.

He let Severus know that he had been commissioned to gather information for Voldemort but that he had personal priorities - he said 'too', but Severus understood.

Professor Snape left Harry alone with Lucius once Harry had consented to see him.

Harry could guess what Lucius wanted. His self-consciousness made him wrap around himself the big black cloak he had borrowed from Snape. It was rather large for him, and much too long, but that suited him, as it hid all his plumage.

Lucius found a still surprisingly small-looking Harry sitting on the end of an infirmary bed and looking pale and extinguished by the cloak, whose skirts spread clear across the bed behind him.

He had not seen Harry for nearly a year and would have thought he would have grown more, as Draco was at last doing.

In fact the two boys were of a height, but Harry was not making the most of his stature right now, curled defensively in on himself. This was his first 'stranger' and he feared his reactions, even as he told himself he did not care what Lucius Malfoy thought.

He realised, however, that looking pathetic at Lucius was not a position of strength, so he straightened up and met his eyes boldly.

Then Harry stood, and flung off the cloak with a drama not native to him, but which Lucius would have appreciated, if he had not been busy staring.

Lucius saw a boy of about his son's height, slim, with slender muscles developed by years of Quidditch, like Draco's. Arms, legs and head were clear of feathers, but Harry was finely feathered on his sides, which were bare to view, as all he was wearing was a pair of what appeared to be trousers held up by a belt.

Harry was even barefoot; the infirmary was a comfortable temperature, unlike much of the castle.

And rearing above his shoulders were great wings, whose feathers trailed almost to the ground. This was still an involuntary action, not fully under Harry's control, especially when he was nervous. Similarly the tail was spread, though partially hidden by his body.

Lucius managed to close his mouth, and tried to concentrate on his purpose, while distracted by the sheer beauty of Harry Potter as a phoenix, and even worse distracted by sexual thoughts. What would it be like to stroke the soft-seeming feathers, how would the boy react to that? Are the delicate feathers over the ribs as sensitive as the fine skin there often is? Would those wings close around him if they embraced? Could he - oh Salazar - could he fly? Can he have sex on the wing? The child is incredibly desirable. However am I going to concentrate on negotiation? Young Harry Potter was never a soft option.

The wings closed down as Harry regained control, and he said bitterly, "Ugly, isn't it, what your son wished on me, Mr Malfoy?"

Lucius very nearly let his mouth fall open again in astonishment, then recognised that he might have an advantage here he had not suspected. Potter thought himself ugly? He was crazy, but Lucius would use it.

Lucius said quietly enough, "He should not have done it, and I'm sorry. But you are not ugly."

Harry achieved a respectable sneer. "A Malfoy sorry for me? I'm beautiful, I suppose?" He added bitterly, "Pretty wings and tail, to hinder my every movement. But no claws or beak to defend myself, or to maintain them, right? Useless. Nothing like a real phoenix. You want Draco out of Azkaban, that's all."

Lucius corrected him. He was not sorry for Harry but very sorry his son was so stupid.

"Stupidity is often its own punishment, but Draco has managed to do better than that. Of course I want him out of Azkaban, but you are beautiful. You always were attractive, but now - those glorious wings! Will you lift them again, turn, show me the tailfeathers?"

That enthusiasm sounded authentic - as did the denial of regret that Harry had suffered. The assertion that Harry not only was now but always had been pleasing in Lucius Malfoy's eyes also got to him.

He had allowed himself the occasional careful late-night fantasy about Lucius Malfoy - after all, he had too much sense to expect to put fantasy into practice there, while years of believing himself in love with Cho had got him nothing but frustration and embarrassment. And here was Malfoy looking at him as if he could eat him.

Lucius intended this, of course, even if he really did feel that way. He was quite ready to use his own reactions to manipulate Harry Potter.

So Harry raised his glowing red wings to their fullest extent, and slowly turned and spread his golden tail, erecting the display feathers as he had learned to do. Wings and tail almost concealed the human boy, but not entirely. Lucius could see the black head tilted defiantly back, the hands at his sides, clenched into fists, the restlessly shifting legs in their black trousers - open at the seat to accommodate the tail, as he could just make out. The boy's body was revealed and then concealed by the fluttering wings and the tail. That spread, folded, erected itself against his back to show the softer golden gleam of under-feathers, then spread once more like a bride's train of cloth of gold, with red-gold streamers no bride could boast, concealing the lower part of his body entirely.

Lucius controlled his strong involuntary sexual response, but gazed his fill, all the same, and let Harry see him doing it. When Harry looked at Lucius again and closed his wings and tail Lucius sighed gently, again deliberately.

He said, "I wish you were not wearing those - trousers, whatever they are. You should be naked, show off your body in that magnificent plumage, the marvellous wings - they're bigger than a swan's; are they stronger?" Better not push too hard at the idea of nakedness until he saw how Harry responded.

Harry blinked in surprise, but elected to respond to the least incendiary of Lucius's remarks. He explained that he had based the trousers on the clothing worn by some Native American tribes, who needed leg protection, either from harsh vegetation or from weather, but wore a loincloth for, ah, personal privacy. He added, fairly dryly, that he could not easily now accommodate a loincloth; the tail Lucius admired got in the way. He adapted the chaps' design to suit his new body, and to provide a degree of decency, and ordered them from a tailor in Diagon Alley.

Lucius shrugged. "A cloak, if you do want not to be noticed; and a warming charm if you don't mind. You'd soon get the way of it."

Lucius pushed his purpose forward, having made, he hoped, a favourable impression.

"My son did not know what he had done to you - that a phoenix feather in Polyjuice Potion is normally a deadly poison."

Harry said, "I had worked that out; Draco isn't stupid, though obviously he didn't think. I know he got the feather only a few minutes before our test, so it must have been an impulse."

He knew Draco Malfoy would have had no chance to check the effects of the unorthodox combination, though he certainly knew than Polyjuice Potion should not be used to transform oneself to an animal. Hermione's experience in second year had become quite widely known, though they had never found out how. No doubt Malfoy had intended Harry to be inconvenienced and embarrassed, but probably no worse.

Harry went on, "He's certainly not stupid enough to get himself taken up for murder."

Lucius pressed this concession.

"But he has been taken up for attempted murder. And only you can save him from a life in Azkaban which, it seems, you do not think he deserves." He said vengefully, "After all these years I still haven't beaten sense into the cocky little brat, but I'll do it if I have to half kill him."

He added, "Vindictiveness - I don't care, though he needs to learn not to let resentment master him as he did here; but stupidity, lack of forethought - that's death. That I do care about, for him, and for my family and its future. That, I will beat out of him, somehow. I can't have taught him right, and this school doesn't seem to have remedied my errors, but somehow I will make him understand."

Harry indicated that he could applaud that, and while he did not believe Draco deserved Azkaban or a life sentence or imprisonment of any kind - not that there seemed to be an alternative to Azkaban - he'd be cursed if he'd exhibit to the world what Draco had made of him.

Lucius argued about this, and pointed out that he should not have to strip in court, for example.

"What happened to you is well recorded, and a private hearing before the Wizangemot can be arranged to spare you distress. But won't you come forward to speak for Draco?"

Harry clearly was distressed at the very idea of his plight being known, and Lucius toyed briefly with the idea of pointing out that it was not going to be a secret much longer. The Weasleys and the Aurors were unlikely to be able to keep it to themselves, even if no one else in the school but the teachers and his close friends knew exactly what happened.

He did not press, but asked, "Will Miss Granger keep the secret?"

Harry pointed out rather sharply that she had kept it from Ron for over a month.

Lucius also rejected asking if Harry intended to immure himself in Hogwarts for the rest of his life - however long that was.

He abandoned that kind of pressure. Far better to negotiate.

"I know you don't want to be stared at, pitied. We can preserve your privacy. But what do you want? What can I do - almost anything you could think to ask - to get your agreement to save Draco?"

Lucius's goal was to rescue his son without immolating himself. He suspected, however, that he might find that under sufficient stress he would even be willing to do that, provided he was sure it would be successful. He did not stop being a Malfoy and a Slytherin just because he had a father's instincts, however well suppressed.

He went gracefully down on one knee before Harry, then to both knees, and sat back, holding out a hand in appeal - looking gorgeous himself, and knowing it, though not showing that.

His hand was very close to Harry's knee, and looked more as if it might turn to caress than lift to beg.

The boy was certainly not indifferent to his sexual appeal, Lucius was confident of that. But was the child reckless enough to engage in sex with Voldemort's chief supporter, a long-time enemy of his own, and forgive Draco publicly too? Gryffindors were thoughtlessly valiant.... And if he did allow his enemy to seduce him, would that content him? Would he, for that penalty which to Lucius would be no penalty, agree to save Draco?

Harry stared at the beautiful, powerful wizard on his knees before him, so close. He examined the fine-boned face with its pale skin, the light grey eyes boldly intent upon him, the soft-looking lips only a slightly warmer colour than the skin. He admired the long trail of ice-blond hair, and found himself regretting it was constrained by a black velvet ribbon. It would be easy to undo... his hair would be so soft to touch. Would the mouth be tender, or hard? Harry swallowed, overwhelmed by his own responses. The strong slender hands rested on Mr Malfoy's knees now, palm upward, as if his mercy might be poured into them.

Lucius Malfoy waited, silent, projecting confidence without insolent assurance.

Harry dragged himself away from sensual appreciation of what, surely, he could never have. Lucius Malfoy was just too dangerous to touch. Harry had been reminding himself, desperately, of what had come of all their previous encounters: never anything good for himself.

He repeated slowly, "'Almost anything'? Would you abandon your master? For Draco? I don't ask you to join us, but would you leave him?"

Lucius thought bitterly, 'Trust the boy to be a hard-nosed negotiator even if I did have him panting for a moment there.'

He shook his head, then unfolded his lips to say reluctantly, "I dare not. I need to be able to protect Draco - to protect myself, indeed. If he wants our hearts to roast in the flames, who will help us? Not the Ministry. Fudge isn't accepting my owls just now, and I've been barred from entering."

There was no point in allowing Harry Potter to think he might gain everything in exchange for Draco's safety; Lucius could not afford to give it.

Lucius went on earnestly, "Is there nothing less than our destruction will content you, when Draco, at least, never intended more than idiotic schoolboy malice? You owe me no favours, I know, but is there nothing with which I can buy your aid?"

"So you will not give me that."

Lucius noticed the boy conceded nothing, though he had sense enough to understand the argument. It put Lucius in the position of having to beg again, to find something to offer, now that the first demand had been refused.

Without resentment, fully focussed on his goal, he replied, "You know it is impossible. No one can leave the Dark Lord." He timed his hesitation carefully. "But I could be - less devoted. I could certainly deny him Draco."

He saw the boy's eyelids flicker, and elaborated. "We are not expected to give him children to serve him. He has been content to wait until our sons, our daughters, are full grown, independent, come into their powers, so that they can give him good service without needing to be coddled. After this, I can say that Draco is not mature enough to be reliable. That my son must wait, despite his willingness, until he is truly a man and can serve our master as a man should."

"Is Draco willing?"

That sounded like curiosity, and Lucius replied with a frankness he had never given elsewhere. "He is afraid, though he has never said so. He thinks that alone will anger me, without his showing reluctance. I believe he is reluctant; he is still a child, and easily frightened. He is ignorant, of course, and still unschooled, in spite of all my efforts. No one learns the details of my master's service until he has submitted to the Dark Mark. We have been ordered not to bring our children until they have left school, so that observing the Mark is no longer so likely. It is - not easy to hide the Dark Mark when one is new to it. So for some years I can deny him Draco without exciting suspicion."

"And would you? Will you?"

"I would. As for will - is that enough for you?"

Lucius was almost disappointed.

Harry Potter asked softly, "What guarantee would I have that you will keep your word regarding Draco? And how will I know your devotion has - lessened?"

Lucius looked up into the brilliant green eyes, not at all child-like now.

"If I make myself vulnerable - if I give you something that you could use to ruin me with the Dark Lord... Will you keep your word, Mr Potter?"

"Mr Malfoy, you will see fast enough if I keep my word, once that hearing before the Wizangemot is arranged. I will give you the word of a Gryffindor if you will take it."

"I will," Lucius answered promptly. "As for Draco - he will have his orders from me. He cannot become your ally, it would be too suspicious, after his years of hostility. But he can cease to harass you." He added dryly, "Given the outcome of his most recent efforts, it would probably seem wiser to me to bid him stop even if we were not bargaining over his safety."

Harry nodded. He did not doubt that Malfoy would obey his father, however much he might resent having to restrain his malice.

Equally dryly he replied, "It might be to his advantage to be more sensible and concentrate on his NEWTs - after this year of preparing for OWLs we have a better idea of how much work we will have to do in the next two years. He'll be luckier than I'm likely to be, if he can do that undistracted. And if he's not forever trying to get me into trouble I will find it a benefit too - a minor benefit, but still. We can work off our hostilities at Quidditch. So. That covers Draco. You, Mr Malfoy, are far more important. How do you plan to become 'less devoted' without exciting suspicion? And how can I know you are doing so?"

Lucius shrugged. "My master depends on me for a great many things," he said simply, "though he does not acknowledge it. If my enthusiasm for new plans, new devices, and their careful execution, slackens, others will certainly take up the running, to assure themselves his greater favour." With some arrogance he added, "But if they were as capable as I, they would be in his favour now. If I withhold my best services, he will be less well served; you may believe that. I will need to be careful. He used Crucio on me last night - as he does for any failure, or any hint of self-will."

He saw the boy's shudder. Yes, Harry Potter knew what Crucio was like.

"What you want," he was speaking carefully now, "is evidence that I am bound to your purpose, to your service, in my master's despite."

Harry inclined his head.

Lucius was watching him with enormous care now. After so long kneeling he was becoming stiff, but he did not think of that, or allow it to distract him. Over the last year he had got back into practice at kneeling silently to await his Lord's pleasure, without any unseemly shuffling. Kneeling before Harry Potter was trivial, after that. The boy was a competent wizard, certainly, but if he did not threaten Draco there was little he could do to Lucius Malfoy personally, and he did not fear him.

He moved closer. The boy did not retreat. Lucius put a hand lightly on his knee, ran it slowly, delicately, up his thigh, and felt the boy shudder again, though his face hardly changed.

"I would serve you devotedly, in this." His voice was very soft.

The boy's breathing caught, harshened. With gentle confidence Lucius moved his hand to the boy's half-erect cock, and closed his fingers over it through the cloth, stroking slowly, alert for every sign of pleasure or withdrawal.

Harry swallowed, and his smaller hand came down hard over the man's, pressing it closer.

His voice was steady enough, though, when he asked, "As you prove your devotion to him, with your hands, with your body?"

It was negotiation, demand, and accusation together, and Lucius was impressed that the boy could still do it, with his attention so fixed on what Lucius's hand was doing to him.

Lucius smiled. It was genuine amusement, whether the boy recognised it or not. "He knows its power, though he has forgotten much. But it is not a power he can any longer command, and he does not desire it. He seeks what he knows to be a far greater power. But for those of us who have not that goal, this is a power to be exerted, enjoyed, and commanded, if you will."

"And if I command it?"

"Then I will give it."

The voice, the hand, lapped softly at Harry's self-control.

Lucius thought it wise to offer reassurance even as he gained mastery over the one who had power over him.

"It is a service he would not wish me to give you, even though he would not want it for himself. As I said, he knows its power. Even if it were done solely to gain Draco's freedom, even if I gave you nothing else, he would believe I had betrayed him. He would never trust me again, and he would retaliate, probably against my son, as the cause, as well as myself. If you take this, you will have a guarantee I will not abandon our bargain once I have the benefit it was made for, my son's freedom."

Lucius rose to his knees and moved closer. When he reached for the belt buckle, began to slip the buttons free, Harry did not try to prevent him. He stood, passive but quivering, still uncertain whether to resist the rising tide of excitement, until Lucius removed the trousers entirely, then stepped out of them at the man's silent urging.

Lucius Malfoy's hands touched his enemy, exploring the slender feet, the narrow ankles. They slid with excruciating slowness up the strong swell of the calves, paused again to explore the articulation of the knees, and moved upward again, closer and closer. Lucius smiled, satisfied

He took his time, moving slowly, refusing to be hurried, despite the boy's now frantic eagerness. If this was not entirely new to him, it was certainly still overwhelming his defences. Harry Potter was willing now to drown in what Lucius Malfoy could give him.

The still small hands fastened in his hair, pulling it free of the ribbon, winding hard, demanding, but Lucius Malfoy was not prepared to have his own body used to constrain him. He slowed still further, then stopped, then withdrew, and allowed the boy one gentle lick, before he tilted back his head enquiringly against the boy's hold.

Harry closed his eyes tight, and whimpered, and after a moment his hands loosed their grip.

Lucius said softly, "Touch my hair, if it pleases you. But don't pull. Just as I'm not pulling at you, as I could, to drive you to where you want to go."

Harry gasped, "I want to go there now!"

"Not if you can still speak, child," Lucius said serenely. "Let me teach you."

He was merciful, though, and pushed the boy backwards, so that he sprawled on the plain white bedcover, legs parted. The great closed tail lay easily enough, showing vividly between his thighs and calves, but Harry's upper body was forced partly erect as the great wings freed themselves, then he fell back.

Lucius followed him almost instantly, taking a moment to shed his cloak and robes, but nothing else, even while he did not know whether to stare at the boy's arousal, his flushed face, or the widespread wings.

This time was for Harry, or at least should seem so. He did not know if he could ever make the boy utterly his, but his chances would be better if he went slowly, and held back his own now urgent desire.

At last he gave Harry the release the boy wept blindly for, then held him, feeling every shudder, hearing every tiny groan of slow relaxation from frenzied satisfaction to easy contentment.

Lucius discovered then that the child who perhaps imagined himself his master was generous. Harry's eyes opened, though they did not meet his, and the boy turned slightly so that it was easier to tackle Lucius's belt and buttons. There was rather more clothing to remove, and the tall boots to pull off, but Harry was not deterred. He continued until his seducer lay naked beside him, then slid down.

Lucius's breath hissed in, and Harry withdrew for a moment to mutter, "Not so easy to take, is it?"

"I can see," Lucius said grimly, "that you don't have much to learn to become a wicked little cocktease. I can't take too much more either -"

"You can still talk," Harry pointed out, sudden mischief in his eyes and the curve of his lips.

Lucius yielded to temptation and grabbed the boy's shoulders, pulling him up, and set his own swollen lips to that red mouth, opening it, thrusting his tongue into it, and fucked that sweet willing mouth breathless. He slid one hand down Harry's right arm, seized his wrist, and pushed the hand towards his own groin. He did not need to use force. Harry caressed him willingly, enthusiastically, moving from a maddening though endearing awkwardness through touching imitation to something like skill, until Lucius had to release his mouth to express his own excitement in breathy moans.

"Now!" Harry demanded, and moved again to take Lucius in his mouth. That was not skilled either, but it was certainly sufficient. Lucius came for him on a single long moan that peaked in something like a scream.

Then Harry moved so that he lay partly over Lucius, his hands coming to rest on the man's chest, and Lucius realised with astonished joy that those wings embraced him, covering both their bodies in a dazzling glory of red and gold feathers. He closed his eyes, content, and wrapped one arm round the boy's shoulders, above the point where the wings sprang forth, and used the other around the feathered back below the wings to draw him closer.

~~HP~~LM~~

Later Lucius made love to Harry again, wanting to cement his hold (and wanting the pleasure too, but that was of no great importance). Afterwards they lay on the narrow bed in an unavoidably close embrace. Lucius would have liked to explore his young lover's body, to discover the details of how it now fitted together, but he thought Harry might find that intrusive, in retrospect if not at the time, so he refrained.

Lucius thought that while he had managed to seduce Harry, and Harry had clearly very much enjoyed his expert attentions, he was still not certain whether Harry was going to trust him. Would the boy take the sex between them as a warrant of Lucius's good faith, take its having happened as a lever, and give him what he wanted, far more than he wanted this, blinding though the pleasure was?

When he pursued his enquiry he found Harry was ready to give him what he most desired.

He was glad they were no longer lying together. Harry might have been a little disenchanted by his immediate need to act to free Draco, and Lucius was not anxious, either, to make him aware of how dizzyingly satisfying it was to know that Harry Potter did want him.

Harry convinced Dumbledore he was willing to do as Lucius asked, and as the headmaster had suggested. He would speak in court to request Draco Malfoy be freed. However, a hearing of the Wizangemot took a little while to arrange, especially when the person most anxious for it had no current influence with the Minister for Magic.

To Lucius's annoyance Dumbledore insisted precautions should be taken for Harry's safety at the hearing, and apparently the Ministry was very willing to ensure this. In the end, however, it would not matter how many Aurors surrounded them, provided that Lucius could take his son free from court.

The delay gave Lucius the chance to deepen his relationship with Harry. He insisted Harry move out of the infirmary - it was not good for him to be isolated there, even if the school was vacant of children. He was neither an invalid nor a monster, and should not act as if he thought he was.

Dumbledore smiled benignly (Lucius gritted his teeth) and gave them an empty suite to themselves, in one of the towers. He made no protest at all when he discovered that they shared a single bedroom. Lucius brooded about that, later. Technically Harry was old enough to make his own decisions about having sex, but this was still a school, Dumbledore was still responsible for Harry's welfare while he was under its roof, and why would he permit the boy to sleep with a notorious Death Eater?

Their bed, Lucius found, was gratifying wide, and extremely comfortable, and the room was warm (astonishing for Hogwarts), so that when they were alone Harry could be coaxed into going naked. He himself had no hesitation about doing so.

The headmaster did firmly warn Lucius not to encourage Harry to try flying.

Lucius ordered a more suitable cloak for Harry - one that enhanced his plumage - and from the mail-order tailor who made the original trousers to Harry's design he ordered a pair of matching, though more subdued, trousers for formal wear in court. Harry was surprised, and pleased, and moved; this also confirmed, as Lucius intended, his impression that Lucius liked him fine the way he was.

~~HP~~LM~~

Neither Harry nor Lucius had anything very much to do, while waiting for a hearing date to be set, beyond having sex with each other. Lucius soon realised that though Harry did not say so, he preferred the term 'making love', and catered to the boy's sensitivities more easily than he would have expected.

He did not think Harry was in love with him, but if Harry wanted to believe it he was certainly not going to discourage him. Not until Draco was free. After a while he thought that he might not wish to disillusion Harry then, either. The boy offered him affection as well as an eager exchange of pleasure, and Lucius thought he was getting to like it. After some of Harry's sleepy late-night confidences about his life it did not really surprise him that the boy desired love and affection, and probably rated them as far more important than mere pleasure. Lucius could understand that. He rated his own goals above mere pleasure too. They were rather different goals, that was all.

Lucius found sex with a Harry who was part phoenix presented some logistical problems if he wanted to fuck him. Which he did, even if he refrained from hinting at it for several days until he was fairly sure Harry was willing to trust him even in that.

Harry could not lie on his back for more than a few seconds before the restive wings reacted to constraint and a sense of endangerment, and it was practically impossible for Lucius to avoid kneeling on his tail feathers, a prospect which distracted Harry completely. Lucius certainly had no wish to damage either wings or tail. He could not put him up against a wall, facing away, because though the marvellous tail could be erected adequately to expose Harry's arse, its length and strength then held Lucius at bay.

He said plaintively, "I'm not built like a bird - any more than you are."

He could take Harry if the boy leaned forward over a table or armchair back, but Harry was not keen on that; it felt too impersonal, while Lucius still found his face full of feathers the moment Harry started to lose control.

Lucius managed to laugh at his frustration, and settled for fucking Harry in his lap. It had the benefit that they were eye to eye, could kiss, could touch, that Harry could hold on to him and be held, which he seemed to need. Harry very much needed the sex not to be impersonal, or to appear to be so.

It turned out that in that position Harry could drape his wings around both of them, and Lucius loved that. It seemed to strike some atavistic chord in him, some instinct to be warmly held that he would have rejected if they had been arms holding him close.

They did find that if Harry lay on his back with his wings spread, as he had done the first time, he could fully embrace Lucius, arms and wings both. As well as a pleasant position in which to use their mouths on each other, this turned out to be a good way of keeping warm, or it would have done if Lucius were not too heavy for it to be practical. They managed to figure out a partial-lying-on-side position that was nearly as good, and much more comfortable for Harry, if what they wanted to do was sleep.

Lucius found himself fiercely glad that it was he who had the privilege of teaching Harry that he was more, not less, as Harry had believed. Harry could not trust the reactions of the adults around him: Madam Pomfrey was concerned for a patient, Snape was primarily concerned for Draco, Dumbledore was carefully displaying a lack of concern.

Ron had reacted very badly and continued to do so over the day he and Hermione spent with Harry. He had been revolted, and had made no attempt to hide it. He had wanted his Harry out of that monster guise, and would not accept it was permanent.

Hermione had been loving and helpful and never afraid to touch him, but she had had longer than anyone except Professor Snape to get used to the idea, and had no other concerns to distract her. Even she did not think of the phoenix as an embellishment; her viewpoint was that this was still Harry.

Lucius however was fascinated by Harry as phoenix and did not hide it. His earlier confession that he had fancied Harry the boy had come as a revelation, but it seemed to be something he had had no trouble hiding. His lovemaking was addressed to the boy, but his sensual appreciation of the boy's wings and tail was frequently evident.

Harry soon understood how very much Lucius liked to lie with him so that Harry's wings covered both of them. He liked it so much that he never referred to it, but he always relaxed and smiled and became more tender when he was aware of the warmth of feathers enclosing him. That made Harry quite thoughtful, when he was not happily taking advantage of the physical devotion Lucius offered unstintingly.

~~HP~~LM~~

On their fifth morning in the tower room Lucius chanced to pick up Harry's trousers intending to toss them towards him so that they could dress for lunch, since Dumbledore insisted on both of them coming to all meals. His hand touched the waist, and he frowned.

"What's this, Harry?"

Harry came over to him. "That's my lucky rabbit's foot."

Lucius's raised eyebrows clearly conveyed the idea that the angular mess of objects he could feel bore no resemblance to a rabbit's foot, and why should one be considered lucky in any case?

Harry laughed, and opened the concealed pocket by running a fingertip gently along below the top seam, before he took the opportunity to lean against his lover's shoulder and surreptitiously rub his cheek against the loose hair.

"Very neat magical tailoring," Lucius approved. Then he looked at what Harry took out of the pocket: a collection of wires and slim rods of different thickness, all attached to a ring.

"That's from no rabbit."

"They're my lucky picklocks. Some Muggles carry a rabbit's foot because they think it lucky. No, I know you're not interested in Muggle superstitions, Lucius, but all I meant was that I carry these, always, even though I've never needed them in our world."

"Picklocks?"

"To open locks, Lucius. Use the wires to tease the wards back, so the door opens. Muggles don't have warding charms, or Alohomora either, remember? I nicked these from my cousin Dudley, and taught myself to use them, last summer. No more being locked in my room, or the cupboard under the stairs. No more Hedwig being locked in her cage for weeks on end." Lucius looked rather more horrified at that idea. "No more not being able to do my holiday homework because my uncle took my wand and my books and all my school things off me and locked them away. I could let Hedwig out, and fetched out my homework - and my wand, too. I felt a lot safer with that handy, even if the Ministry wouldn't allow me to use it outside of school."

Harry shrugged. "So I carry them. They make me feel better, though I don't expect to need them."

He did not then mention that another almost immaterial pocket held his invisibility cloak; Lucius would certainly express his disapproval of the idea that Harry would use it to hide from people's eyes. Nor did he say that along the right side seam of the trousers was an almost invisible slim pocket for his wand. Lucius was probably even more careful than he to ensure his wand was within reach at all times.

~~HP~~LM~~

That afternoon when they were seated in the deep armchair, Harry in Lucius's lap and his legs around his lover's waist, engaged in earnest experiment, they heard - after some time - a tapping at the window.

Lucius said dismissively, "Fuck it," and Harry was content to keep his attention where Lucius wanted it.

Afterwards, however, Lucius looked over Harry's shoulder towards the window and said, "Ah."

He reached out for his wand and flicked it at the window. Even as Harry turned his head a great dark owl surged into the room, the noises it was making a clear indication of annoyance. He identified it at once as an eagle owl by the conspicuous sideways canted tufts over its ears. The owl landed on the padded arm of the chair and moved as close as it could to Lucius, fluffing and settling its tawny brown feathers with their dark brown and black markings. The bird was at least two feet in length, and had claws to match, incongruously set in feathered feet of a delicate buff colour.

Seeing the claws so close Harry went very still, while Lucius gently removed the length of silk thread that held a small scroll to the owl's leg. It did not have a pouch for payment, and did not take off, so Harry assumed it must belong to Lucius.

The owl confirmed this by hopping neatly up to Lucius's naked shoulder. Lucius winced slightly, holding very still himself, and muttered under his breath, at which a thick pad of leather appeared on his shoulder to cushion the claws, carefully shaped to stay in position even under the considerable weight of the bird.

The bird ignored this, and bent its head (it had to bend quite some way) in order to take several strands of Lucius's hair in its beak. Once he stopped flinching at the sight of that cruel hooked black beak so close to Lucius's eyes, Harry watched in growing amusement as the eagle owl preened its owner's long blond hair, as carefully as it would preen its own feathers.

Lucius read the message quickly, tossed it to the side table, and turned back to Harry. "This is Invidia."

Harry asked incredulously, "Jealousy?"

Lucius smiled. "He is very jealous; he won't tolerate another owl near me while he's on my shoulder. He's less aggressive towards females - he won't make a fuss about your Hedwig, provided she keeps her distance - but none of my other owls can approach me while he wants my attention. I imported a female as a mate for him three years running before I found one he would accept; I had no trouble finding new owners for the ones he rejected."

Harry said dubiously, "I hope he doesn't object to a phoenix in your lap, then."

"He doesn't appear to." Lucius added calmly, "But we'll make sure. Invidia!"

The bird dropped its beakful of hair and its great orange eyes with their ominous black pupils and rims fixed on Lucius.

He spoke in the same tender tones he used sometimes to Harry after they had made love. "This is Harry. He is mine too, you understand?"

Harry noticed that 'mine', but a part of his mind thought, 'And you are mine, Lucius, believe it.'

There was not much doubt that the bird would have scowled if it had been built for it; it shifted restively and turned a glare on Harry, focussing on his phoenix wings rather than on his human face.

"No, Invidia, Harry is a man like me, despite the wings," Lucius coaxed. "Look at his face, not his wings. He cannot fly for me like you, my dear one. Let him touch you."

When Lucius nodded at him Harry raised his hand and gently touched the soft breast feathers. Invidia grumbled, then pushed forward, so Harry scratched more strongly at the narrow band of white feathers running down its breast, until the bird, satisfied or bored, lifted away then abruptly took off, the fanning of its powerful wings with their enormous span disordering Lucius's hair. It settled itself on top of their four poster bed, in the most shadowed corner of the room, while Harry used his fingers to comb Lucius's hair smooth again. He had found out how much Lucius liked that, too.

Harry did not ask about the message, but Lucius told him. "That's from the Malfoy Manor major-domo. He said they've at last been allowed to send Draco clothes, and some other comforts. I told them to persist. It seems as if Narcissa has been more successful than I in getting permission."

"Your wife," Harry said, uncomfortable now.

"My ex-wife," Lucius corrected, "but still Draco's mother. We divorced shortly after he went to Hogwarts, as she was no longer needed at home for him; our marriage contract allowed that. She's been coming to the Manor to be there for him during the summer holidays, though, and any others he is at home. I remember she was very irritated with me that I did not let her know ahead of time that Draco would not be home the Christmas of his second year."

Lucius stopped abruptly, and Harry realised that he was quite as astonished as Harry that he had said any of that. Lucius was not one for confidences of any sort, late-night or otherwise.

The long pale eyelashes flickered, then Lucius said abruptly, "She is concerned for Draco, of course. I'm glad of her success. Especially as there's still no word of when a hearing will be held."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, and wound his arms around his lover's neck and kissed him.

It began as a gentle kiss, but Lucius promptly transformed it, and if his mouth was more masterful, more punishing indeed, than usual, Harry was not going to complain. Lucius was truly concerned for his son, and here he was trapped in a tower at Hogwarts trying to keep his son's best enemy happy with sex.

Harry wondered if he would have been able to use his own body in pursuit of a goal with such single-mindedness, before all his consciousness narrowed down to Lucius's mouth and Lucius's hands and Lucius's hard cock probing his body. If Harry whimpered he did not really remember, afterwards, nor resent it at the time. This still hurt, quite a lot sometimes, but Lucius liked it and hurt or no Harry liked it very much too. Lucius's confident possession took him out of himself, put everything at a distance. When Lucius moved inside him there was nothing Harry needed to think or feel about except him. He just wished he could feel Lucius fucking him in his nightmares of Voldemort to drive them away.

~~HP~~LM~~

Word came at last that a hearing time had been set. By then Lucius was close to screaming point with frustration and anxiety for Draco, and it took all of his self-control not to take it out on Harry. It did not really console him that his young lover was tolerant of his moods and willing to go to bed whenever Lucius wanted: he should have had better control of himself.

Professors Dumbledore and Snape and a precautionary group of Aurors accompanied Lucius and Harry to London. The Aurors seemed to have some difficulty reconciling Lucius Malfoy's presence in the party with their duty to protect Harry Potter from harm, but by the time they were inside the Ministry, making their way to the room where the Wizangemot met, they had become more at ease.

Lucius had found that he was still not received at the Ministry, either in person or by owl. This confirmed his personal contempt for Fudge (and he found Harry's opinion of Fudge was already unprintable). It seemed to both of them that Fudge had decided that Lucius had abandoned Voldemort in order to save his son, but that Voldemort was still in the ascendant, so Lucius had become a pariah and his former influence had now vanished. At the same time Fudge was refusing to acknowledge any looming danger. Lucius vowed revenge on principle, and as an object lesson for anyone else who thought to treat the Malfoys like that, but it would have to wait, like everything else. Harry was quite ready to cheer him on.

~~HP~~LM~~

The hearing did not take long. All that was really required was for Harry to affirm that he wanted his assailant to be pardoned. He explained, at the request of the Minister, that he knew Draco Malfoy had not intended anything beyond a temporary embarrassment. He added that Malfoy, like himself, was still under age, and should not be automatically and harshly punished for youthful folly. He did not bother to remark that he himself had been punished for things he had not even done, under wizarding law, and under the Ministry clerks' interpretations of it.

The request was successful, in that the Wizangemot accepted it and officially pardoned Draco. He was released into his father's custody, with an admonishment to be wiser and more courteous in future.

Draco bent his head in silent acknowledgement, before he thanked the court, in a clear voice, for releasing him. Then, to Harry's surprise, his rival turned and thanked him as simply for seeking his release.

It was traumatic for Harry, however, standing even for a short time in front of all those wizards, pitying or curious, a few even leering salaciously, but Lucius's promise that his privacy would be preserved was kept. He did not have to display himself to the Wizangemot, and no outsiders were allowed into the courtroom.

On the other hand the whole wizarding world now knew, or soon would, that he was a physical as well as magical freak.

The Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor parties waited together while the members of the Wizangemot left the courtroom.

Draco had been retrieved. He was obviously not in great shape, but still standing, still sane. Hermione had come to the hearing, alone, and joined the Hogwarts party. She talked to Harry while Lucius rang a quiet but thorough peal over his son. Even as he did so his eyes were flickering anxiously over Draco.

Draco managed to get a word in edgeways and apologise to his father for his carelessness, his thoughtlessness, his endangering the Malfoy honour.

Towards the end of the tirade he said, "I'm sorry, Father. Truly. Sorry I embarrassed you and endangered you - I understand Voldemort will hold what I did against you just as much as the rest of them do. I'm sorry I was stupid, and in public, as no Malfoy should be. Long before the Weasel dropped the Aurors on me I wished I hadn't done it - who wants to be remembered, perhaps for ever, as the fool who bestowed immortality on his enemy? If he has that. I had plenty of time, afterwards, to do the research and consider the possibilities, since the potion didn't work as a poison. Which, in case you're still wondering, I hadn't known of."

"Then be very careful, Draco, because we are still watched and still distrusted. Don't try anything else with Harry. We have his qualified support, at present, and it wouldn't be good to lose it."

Draco sighed. "I hope you won't disapprove, Father, but I'm sorry for doing that to Potter, too. Azkaban - well, I had time to think. Mostly unhappy thoughts, of course."

Lucius nodded. He had had a taste of that, when he had been tried after Voldemort's first defeat. He had escaped condemnation as a Death Eater, but he had not forgotten the way the Dementors leached all happy memories - few enough they had been, in all conscience; most of his achievements had been coldly won and coldly enjoyed - and left him only regrets, and a furious determination not to be trapped there. In Azkaban he had constructed not just the arguments which enabled him to escape, but the very memories that gave those arguments such conviction. That had been an experience not to be repeated, too.

Draco perhaps did not need to be warned, but Lucius said quietly, "We may have little room to manoeuvre, Draco. Keep all lines to possible allies open - and don't forget Harry Potter's allies. Unfortunately, we may need them, if only to induce my master to hold his hand for long enough for us to get out from under it."

Draco's eyes widened. "That bad?"

"It may be. So as a start, not only be polite and grateful to Harry, for begging you off, and to Severus - you do owe him for a persistent defence - but also be polite to that Mudblood girl. From what Harry says, she's cooler and more intelligent than many of Dumbledore's followers, more reliable than I would have thought."

"Then better stop calling her a Mudblood, Father," Draco said quite dryly.

"Indeed," Lucius assented. He scowled. "Most of the Muggle-born are useless, ignorant, reckless, dangerous. I agree she's probably an exception. Just think of her as a witch."

"Yes, Father," Draco said obediently.

His father smiled crookedly. "Had you thought of that in Azkaban?"

Draco smiled very faintly in response. "And a lot of other things too."

"Very well." So Draco was growing up. Perhaps, as Voldemort had suggested, Azkaban had not been entirely a bad thing for him.

"When we get home, you are going to study the family handbook. And discuss it with me, in detail. I think perhaps that after this you may be ready for it."

"The family handbook?" Draco sounded almost faint with excitement. He had heard rare, vague references to it, but did not even know its name, and if his father was at last ready to trust him to study it, thought him able to appreciate it...

"Dealing with the Dark. We call it, by name, to bring it from its shelf. In my study. You cannot take it out of the room, and no one but a Malfoy may touch it, so be extremely careful. You may not discuss it with anyone outside the family - which means you and me, Draco."

"Yes, sir," Draco breathed.

"Good. So don't go off partying with your friends, or to visit your mother, to celebrate your freedom. You have work to do. Tomorrow."

Draco touched his father's hand lightly. "Thank you, Father, for asking Potter's help. It could not have been easy."

"He could have made it a great deal more difficult. Unlike my master he did not make me grovel." Lucius added under his breath, "Not much, and not without effect."

Draco glanced at him curiously, not sure he was supposed to have heard that, but certain it would be unwise to respond.

Lucius looked around. He and Harry had already exchanged regretful farewells, before they left Hogwarts, and while Lucius had not joined Harry in considering how they might meet again he had firmly indicated his wish to do so, since that was what his current master desired. Harry had laughed at him, he remembered, and smiled faintly. The boy knew perfectly well he was not Lucius's master - but Lucius did not command him, either. Perhaps, with that balance achieved, something could be made of this beyond a truce of convenience. Especially if Draco was willing to put childishness behind him.

Draco gave him another sign that there was something to be hoped for. He said he would have liked to apologise to Potter too, but it seemed pointless.

"No," said Lucius, "if you want to, you do it. Remember I told you years ago to make a friend of Harry Potter? Start again, if he'll allow it."

The boys managed at least a formal reconciliation, with Hermione looking on approvingly, more interested in establishing future harmony than raging over past rivalry and bitterness and malice. Lucius was interested to see that her attitude influenced Draco as well as Harry. There was definitely more to the little Mudblood - witch - than he had thought. She certainly seemed good for Harry. He was more relaxed while she was at his elbow; even Lucius's close company had not achieved that, during the brief hearing.

The protective group of Aurors met them at the door and surrounded them for the journey out. The small group took a lift up then began to disperse.

Once they were back up in the Ministry's main foyer the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly were on the warpath, with several reporters clamouring for interviews - not just with Harry, but also with Draco and Lucius. The reporters had not been allowed to go beyond the foyer, but they had had plenty of time to array themselves to block any easy departure. The only good thing was that Rita Skeeter was still prevented by Hermione's jinx from being one of the group. Harry's escorts put paid to attempts to mob him, however, and Lucius's lawyer gave them a written statement and some heavy-duty oral warnings about libel.

Lucius and Draco intended to go to Malfoy Manor, while Dumbledore was returning to the school with Snape and Harry, and Hermione was going home again.

The Aurors were not nearly so attentive to security now the hearing was over and Lucius Malfoy has done nothing evil after all, in spite of the mass of warnings the Minister himself had given them.

Auror Alastor Moody came over to dismiss his young guard wizards, but his head swung round and his hand whipped out his wand at a series of loud cracks: the sounds of multiple Apparitions displacing air.

Lucius too looked, while one hand grabbed for Draco and the other for his wand.

A group of cloaked masked men surrounded them, wands out, jinxes and curses already flying. Moody went down. So did a couple of Aurors. Then a Death Eater, but instead of falling to the floor he vanished.

Lucius was reciting vile curses in the back of his mind while he dragged Draco - not unwilling - closer to Harry.

Draco panted, "Let go, Father! Oh Salazar, where's my wand?"

Lucius snapped, "My right cloak pocket," and the slim white hand darted in unerringly.

He recognised his thrice-cursed sister-in-law, cloak and mask or not, and despite a determination to protect Draco flung, not an offensive curse, but a protective shield. Not at Draco but at Harry.

Harry was not waiting for protection. He was backed against the wall, Hermione Granger half behind him, wand levelled, shouting seriously offensive jinxes, and with excellent aim, too. Somewhere at the back of his mind Lucius noted that the boy had the sense not to try for an Unforgivable, even here and in circumstances where he could probably get away with it. He doubted that Harry Potter would ever succeed in using one, except perhaps on the Dark Lord himself, who was never likely to make himself vulnerable. If Harry did, he would be a different person from the boy who sat in his enemy's lap, kissing him with real affection.

Lucius's flung shield clashed with another, then they melded. He followed its trajectory back to Dumbledore. The old man stood very straight, long hair and beard crackling with power, blue eyes blazing, no longer harmless, no longer benign. Severus Snape lay on the floor at his feet and Lucius cursed again.

Three more Death Eaters had vanished, one Dumbledore's victim, another Harry's, the third presumably struck down by one of the Aurors still on his feet.

Draco was snarling, and Lucius at last took in the words. "Help them! If your Lord attacks us too -"

"Keep out of this, for your life," Lucius snarled in return.

Then it was too late for defence, for interference. Another wave of Death Eaters Apparated into the foyer and overwhelmed the half-dozen Aurors remaining before most of them concentrated on Dumbledore. The rest turned to Harry Potter.

That was all that was needed. Dumbledore was not overcome, but he could no longer assist his student. Harry was overwhelmed, and as he tumbled bonelessly down Miss Granger was knocked half the width of the foyer by one of the strokes aimed at her friend.

Lucius shoved Draco in her direction with all his strength and sprang towards Harry. He never had a chance finally, publicly, to choose a side to support.

His sister-in-law screamed at him, "We've got him, come, come! You're needed!"

One of the Death Eaters had a red-cloaked bundle slung over his shoulder.

The bundle's hand relaxed enough to drop a wand, and Lucius scrambled for it, but a distinctive silver hand scooped it up and tossed it away, as Peter Pettigrew shouted, "Leave it! Out of here!"

Still uncommitted, Lucius Malfoy Apparated out of the Ministry foyer with his brethren.

~~HP~~LM~~

In Voldemort's hall there was, at first, confusion. Jubilation, because the raid had succeeded. Moderate concern, because quite a few of their number had been disabled, though only one had been killed. The bodies sprawled around, while those less seriously cursed or jinxed sat and wailed for help or grumbled. Furious anticipation, of what was at last, long deserved, going to come to Harry Potter now that the Dark Lord was fully himself again.

Lucius took advantage of the near-riot to slip up to where Walden Macnair was standing over the unconscious boy. He knelt to open the magically flat pocket where the invisibility cloak was concealed and edged it out.

As he put it into his breast pocket Macnair demanded, "What are you taking?"

Lucius looked up, answering with something approaching indifference, "Something of mine I had to yield up at Hogwarts, what did you think?"

His fingers emerged with a silver ring just large enough to be touched by two people at a time. "My Portkey for the Manor," he added, and tucked it back, under Harry's tightly folded invisibility cloak.

Macnair accepted that, and turned to roll the unconscious body with his foot. He did not use great force, but he was not careful, either. The red cloak fell away, showing its shot gold lining, and a part of one of the wings it had been designed to showcase.

"That's a wing!"

"Sometimes, Walden, I wonder how you got through school. Of course it's a wing. There are two, and a tail. The boy's part phoenix now, remember? Isn't that why our Lord sent you for him?"

Even as he dripped acid scorn on his associate's thick hide Lucius's mind was frantically running through possibilities and options. He thought it ominous in the extreme that he had been given no warning of that raid. Fortunate that because of his desire to keep Draco out of the fight he had limited himself to the one shield charm. Had anyone seen it? Would anyone report to the Dark Lord that he had taken no real part in the attempt to kidnap Harry Potter? How best to excuse himself, if so?

It was obvious Bellatrix had not noticed. If she had she would not have demanded he accompany them, she would have tried to use the Killing Curse on him. No patience, Bel, and not a lot of sanity, either. He hoped fervently, for Draco's sake, its cause was Azkaban, and not her bloodlines. His father had after all checked the Black family out most carefully when Lucius had suggested that he take Narcissa as a wife... Enough of that.

Here was Harry, wandless, unconscious, and presumably the Dark Lord proposed to interrogate him in person. Had he always intended that, and sent Lucius off to Hogwarts to beg mercy from Harry Potter as a distraction? If so, had that been meant to distract Dumbledore - or himself? If the latter, he was in serious danger now. If the raid had been a later impulse, things might not be so difficult, though they were still dangerous.

Lucius at last admitted to the other feeling shoving its way forward into his awareness: a furious anger that anyone had dared to lay hands on his Harry. Oh, a bad sign; a very bad sign indeed. If it wasn't enough that he would need all his cunning to protect his son, and probably himself, he wanted to protect Harry Potter too? Malfoy possessiveness run mad. So much for his attempts at neutrality during the fight. Not that his Lord would for a moment accept neutrality.

Lucius hoped his personal wavering from loyalty was not suspected. He had Draco back, but he still did not know how fragile he was, despite the new maturity, and wanted to be with him, needed to be free to protect him. Did not need to have to save Harry Potter from his master.

Voldemort appeared, and almost at once order was restored as a wave of respectful silence flooded through his followers.

He walked over to his foe's body and looked down, the red eyes gleaming with satisfaction, the lipless mouth smiling. He kicked the boy carefully in the feathered ribs, and the body rolled loosely; there was no other response.

Voldemort looked up. "Well done, Bellatrix, Walden, Lucius. So we have him."

Lucius did not trust those thanks.

"Lucius, you will report to me later on all you have learned. It's good you're back with us."

Lucius thought darkly that his unavoidable public commitment to his Lord would make impossible the work his master had to date expected him to do. Probably he knew that Lucius was currently persona non grata with the Minister, however, and regarded that role as at an end.

As clearly, his Lord had shown no concern for his son, despite his earlier assertions of gratitude. Draco had been abandoned in the Ministry foyer surrounded by injured and unconscious Aurors. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger both might wish to help him, but they too were unconscious. Dumbledore had still been standing, holding his own, and Lucius was sure he was capable of helping Draco - if he wished. That remained a question. But it was a question Lucius could not afford to consider now.

What he had to concentrate on was his own safety - yes, and Harry's too, he admitted that.

Voldemort was still talking. "Someone get this brat awake. I want to see how brave he will be, facing me in my own hall, in all my power." He laughed coldly. "He has no wand now to protect himself with Priori Incantatem. Who has it?"

There was an uneasy silence before Lucius deliberately dropped Peter Pettigrew into trouble. "My Lord, I wanted to bring it, but Wormtail brushed it out of the way, saying to leave it, demanding I come, as Bellatrix too did, of course."

There. Peter hated that name, wherefore many of them made a point of using it. And Voldemort despised Peter's inability to think through in advance what his Lord might require. With good fortune he would not ask why Lucius wanted to bring Harry Potter's wand, but he had an answer ready. It did not do to offer too much information at once.

Voldemort turned on the fat balding little man shrinking away with terror on his face and raised his wand, no longer smiling.

"You should not have allowed it, Lucius," he said softly, "but you, my Peter, should not have thrown Potter's wand aside! Crucio!"

Fortunately the wand was levelled at Peter, not Lucius. Most of the people in the hall watched with complete calm as Peter Pettigrew screamed and writhed, as always making as much a spectacle of himself as he could.

Lesson applied, Voldemort flicked his wand, releasing Pettigrew.

"Is the boy awake yet?" he demanded. Then added in open exasperation, "Kicking him will not help, Walden, I tried that, remember?"

Walden Macnair said flatly, "Ennervate."

They all watched as the boy started and groaned, moving a little, until he was fully conscious. At that point he stilled, and looked around him, at the avid faces, mostly unmasked now, staring at him. Staring at the focus of their hatred for so long, the means of the Dark Lord's resurrection, the shining banner of Dumbledore's pitiful order - at last in their hands, possibly with more gifts for the Master.

"Have you searched him, Walden?"

"No, my Lord." Macnair did not wait for an order, but knelt beside the boy, so much slighter than himself, grabbing him by the scruff and checking the cloak pockets. Nothing but handkerchiefs, not even Floo powder. Macnair's wand flickered over his body, looking for magical items. In the absence of wand and invisibility cloak there were none. Nothing else was of interest.

Harry Potter bore it passively, though when Macnair dropped him he managed to protect his head from the floor, and turned to his side - to ease the wings, Lucius knew. Harry was being far more careful than usual.

"Nothing of aid to him, my Lord."

Voldemort strode forward then, and Macnair backed away. "Potter. Potter the phoenix. Immortal, are you, boy? We'll test that."

Harry was probably afraid, but he stared up at Voldemort with his mouth set, unresponsive. He could hardly spit, as he had done once, at the wizard looking him over.

Voldemort smiled. It made him look even more unpleasant, as he knew quite well. The wizard who had been Tom Riddle was no longer concerned with looks, though he had been beautiful, just as he was no longer concerned with sex. What he wanted now was power over the wizarding world, and the immortality that would give him the opportunity not just to build it but to consolidate it, until he was inescapable.

"You will give me everything, boy. And when you have done so, ah then - then I can test you, to destruction."

Harry shivered slightly, but his bold green eyes did not drop. He said distinctly, "You cannot have everything I have and am, and I will give you nothing."

Voldemort smiled again. "Then I will take it, boy. But I think you will beg to give, before I am done with you."

He shook his left hand slightly, and from the sleeve of his robes fell a small black snake with red eyes. It caught itself on his hand, then when Voldemort shook his fingers again it flew to the neck of the boy lying supported on his elbows, and wrapped itself supplely around it. Head and tail met and coiled into a complicated knot at the base of the boy's throat, then froze into stillness: a collar. A collar, as they all knew, that denied the bearer access to magic. Such a collar would restrain even Dumbledore. Harry Potter should have no defence against it.

Voldemort carefully explained that, then ordered Macnair to put him in the cell prepared for him, where additional magical restraints would ensure he could not escape, or communicate.

As the large man dragged the slight youth away Harry screamed very convincingly at Lucius.

"You promised that if I helped Draco you'd protect me from your master! What can I do to him now, spoiled as I am?"

Lucius recognised this as nonsense, but maybe Harry was whistling in the dark rather than confident of his support. He hoped Harry had a little trust in him still.

Voldemort took the opportunity to add to his explanation just what Harry could do for him now: be an experimental subject. Macnair halted, but kept his grip on the back of the boy's neck, so that he hung from the man's great hand like a puppy about to be drowned.

"And if you do prove to be immortal, Mr Potter, despite not being a true phoenix, I can take you to pieces to find your secrets and how to use them. I needn't fear using you up - though of course your sanity may go by the board."

This was not a happy prospect, but Harry snarled defiance once more. This time it got him an immediate and prolonged Crucio from Wormtail's silver hand, now that the man had somewhat recovered from his own punishment. Voldemort did not reprove him, but watched calmly as the slender body bucked and writhed and began screaming. Only when Voldemort gestured did Peter end the curse.

Harry was then dragged half-conscious and still twitching off to the cell, while Lucius was left to find out, perhaps, what degree of trust his master had in him.

~~HP~~LM~~

However much or little Voldemort now trusted Lucius, he gave no indication of disfavour, and his other followers did not know, so they treated Lucius much as they used to, out of caution. Most of them, however, had been present and were able to remember Voldemort's later extension of the plan he had made with Lucius.

If Lucius could lure Harry out to speak for Draco and get him free, some Death Eaters should be ready to seize Harry.

This, he said, could be a great opportunity to conduct his own observations, not just have to work from Lucius's conclusions. What Lucius did not know would not hurt him (a manifestly false assertion no one objected to); he would still serve Voldemort well in this without knowing all his master had in mind.

Lucius was not loved, however feared and respected, and his position close to their master ensured that jealousy would always taint his relations with his fellows.

Voldemort had continued, "Whatever master Draco meant to do, it will have turned out well, so the Malfoys do indeed deserve reward for ingenuity. Though they should also be reminded to clear operations with me. I thought I had Lucius thoroughly trained to that."

~~HP~~LM~~

Voldemort did not leave Harry to sweat for long in his cell. Soon after he had heard Lucius's report he called for Harry to be brought out for examination, stripped, to make it easier.

This time Voldemort sat in the chair set in the centre of his hall, the hall that had once been the wine cellar of the Rookwood Mansion. The property itself had long since been confiscated and stripped of anything of value by Aurors and waves of Ministry of Magic minions before the building's walls were tumbled to the ground. Lucius wondered idly if the half-blood he served knew that the great covered chair was not only a servant's - a night-watchman's sheltering chair, but an entirely Muggle object, since what wizard needed a night-watchman when he had magical wards at his command? He recognised his own growing contempt and carefully shoved it into the depths of his mind. He must do and think nothing that might make the Dark Lord suspect him further.

Harry was questioned, and was unresponsive, his defiance silent but evident; these things did not trouble Voldemort.

He proceeded to what he had always intended, torture both magical and physical to see what Harry Potter would do, how the phoenix would respond - and eventually, to Voldemort's amaze and pleasure, the renewal in fire reflex was triggered.

By that time the boy was huddled on the stone floor, weeping, screaming almost voicelessly after so long, arms wrapped round himself, the broken wings trailing askew, the feathers which had been pulled out scattered over the floor. Lucius had been rather appalled to discover how much pain plucking feathers alone could cause, never mind breaking the wing bones. In addition to these purely physical pains, the boy had been subjected to a series of hexes that left him screaming under Crucio, but quite unable even to writhe in its agonies.

As the fire sprang up so too did the boy phoenix, arms spread and wings uselessly attempting to spread, his face contorted with a new agony.

Wormtail incautiously reached into the fire, trying to drag Harry out before the fire fully enveloped him, hoping to prevent the renewal. The silver hand might have been safe enough, but he pulled back yowling with the pain in his other hand. He had to go right on yowling, as Voldemort was not interested in healing him just then, and no one else would do it while their Lord was otherwise focussed.

Harry was screaming in a way that alarmed Lucius, however, so he too hastily thrust a hand into the fire, wincing in anticipation. He released the snake collar round Harry's neck by touching his Dark Mark to it - as any senior Death Eater could have done - after which the screaming stopped, even as the fire suddenly raged higher, more than redoubled, obscuring boy and bird.

Curiously, Lucius was not burned. Voldemort and the other Death Eaters thought he was being more stoical than Wormtail, just as he was when punished by their master - stoicism was often the safer option around the Dark Lord, quite apart from personal dignity.

Voldemort reproved him, and asked why he did it.

"You heard him screaming, my Lord; he's not now. And look at the fire. Should we contaminate the whole experiment by depriving a magical creature of access to magic? How can the phoenix be renewed if his magic is bound?"

A nasty thought for Voldemort. His experiment could have been ruined right at the start. He quite warmly thanked Lucius for considering their long-term aim.

The fire only lasted a few minutes. When it fell away, there was Harry, naked as before, exhausted, staggering, but his skin fresh and unmarked, the damaged wings restored. Given the battered state he had been in since his arrival, probably only Lucius noticed that Harry seemed actually younger. Not by much, but perhaps as much as a year. He suspected that if he could get close enough he would see that Harry was now a couple of inches shorter - he knew exactly where various parts of Harry's body came to on his.

It took only moments to restrain the phoenix wings, this time in a magical net Voldemort created, since the collar might cause further problems for his experiments.

"So," he said, pleasure evident in the soft hissing. "Renewal by fire is now confirmed. Immortality, perhaps. And all wounds not just healed, but no scars remaining."

He reached out to touch the one scar Harry still bore, the famous one. "This is magical rather than physical. How very, very useful. But how to transfer that power to me?"

An earlier discussion was renewed briefly, in a more disciplined manner. Not only Voldemort felt that Harry Potter's blood, already used in his resurrection, offered the best transfer medium.

Harry listened to their speculations, physically as well as magically bound by the net, still half numb from the long experience of pain, though the fire had reduced its intensity, and certainly its immediacy. His body was restored, no longer in pain, but he had not forgotten agony.

Now Voldemort offered something for Harry to really look forward to. He already felt responsible for the resurrection of this monster, was he now to give him immortality?

At last Voldemort said, "Take him away, Lucius, and talk to him nicely, see what you can get. Your last chance, dear Lucius, you didn't get much that week you had access to him at Hogwarts, for all your plans."

Lucius said stiffly, "On the contrary, my Lord, I reported a great deal, which you have already made use of. Not just from the boy, who knows little of the Order's plans, but from the old fool Dumbledore as well."

Voldemort dismissed that. 'What have you done for me today?' was his watchword. He did not speak harshly, however.

"Do as I bid you, Lucius."

Lucius dragged Harry along with Mobilicorpus - he doubted the boy could walk as far as his cell yet - then Voldemort called after him, "Take him to the cell with Muggle locks, Lucius. Perhaps you're right, and inhibiting his magic will be bad for our experiments, so that will be safer."

Lucius did that, and, without being obvious about it, made Harry as comfortable as possible on the wooden storage shelf that ran along one side of the cell. He provided a covered water jug and a covered waste bucket. Finally he used Accio to fetch Harry's cloak and trousers.

Macnair leaned against the cell doorframe as Lucius freed the silent boy lying face down from the net, being careful it did not catch on the feathers.

He asked, "Why comfort the prisoner?"

"Because we need to experiment on him, Walden, not to torture him to death. If we could. So he needs food and water and basic warmth and the ability to exercise."

That made sense, however it went against Macnair's desire to kill Potter as slowly and painfully as possible; right now, that was not what their Lord wanted.

Soon after Lucius joined Harry in his cell, creating a moderate Lumos so he could see. Harry was now reunited with his invisibility cloak, which Lucius transferred from his pocket to Harry's trousers. For now Lucius was in charge of the key so he could interrogate Harry.

He decided it would be best get the boy out at the first opportunity, as soon as he was capable of sustained movement, before the Dark Lord had any other unhelpful ideas.

He noticed with resignation that somehow he had become committed to Harry's freedom and by extension to Dumbledore's side of the war. The latter was seriously displeasing, though his ancestors would have approved it as a far safer measure than trying to go it alone. Always move to a power centre; never set yourself up as a cockshy for existing powers.

This was Lucius's first chance to talk privately to Harry, to find out whether Harry believed he had been betrayed, or accepted that Lucius was doing his best to help him while retaining his own freedom by pretending he had only his master's aims in mind.

At first Harry stared at him with green eyes hard and blank as stones, until Lucius asked, "Did the fire take the pain, Harry?"

Harry sprang to his feet and screamed, "How can I forget any of it, you - you Malfoy!" and took a swing at Lucius.

Lucius's temper was shaky already; he caught the boy's wrists and hissed, "Stop play-acting!"

When Harry continued shouting up into Lucius's face, almost hysterically, expressing the fear he still felt after that horrible session of torture and the prospect of more to come, Lucius slapped him - and was knocked across the cell by a brutal blow from Harry's wing. That halted and disconcerted both of them.

In the silence Lucius got to his feet, tentatively feeling his ribs, hoping they were intact.

He said, "Pretty wings. Yes indeed. I read somewhere that an angry swan can break a man's arm with a blow from its wing - and your wings are bigger than a swan's, just as they are bigger than those of the few phoenixes I've seen. You're not defenceless, Harry."

Sobered himself, Harry sat on the shelf, tucking away his wings and ignoring his clothes. To escape from his still roiling emotions he concentrated on imparting information, just as Hermione was wont to do.

"People talk about bird bones as if they're fragile. I know they're hollow, not solid like ours, for lightness. But internally strutted structures can be strong too. Hermione gave me a lecture about bird bones - she went and read up on it. She made me laugh when she talked about the way Muggles made hollow steel like that for special strength with lightness. At the time I only paid attention because she had cared enough to do that for me, she wanted to help me - and the whole time she was talking she had her arm around my shoulders, over my wings. I should have listened more carefully."

He smiled faintly. "When in doubt, go to the library. It works for her."

Lucius felt a distant envy of Harry's trust in his friend, able to be physically constrained by her without unrest, but thought, 'He thinks I want him because of the beautiful wings. I want him because of what he is - beautiful, unique, and Harry. I'm the only one who's looked at him and seen how wonderful the combination is. But once others can see him - and it will be hard not to see the full glory, formed as he is, unless he wraps up in Severus's cloak for life - others will want him. And he's mine.'

His hands formed into fists; then Lucius realised how he was reacting, and relaxed deliberately. Possessiveness was a Malfoy trait, but he would let Harry get used to that slowly; it would not do to frighten him off.

After that aborted confrontation Harry was very quiet, but when Lucius stripped and encouraged the boy down on to the shelf bed with him Harry did not reject him. Indeed, he joined Lucius willingly in making love; a great way of putting off thinking about the unpleasant, which was all the future seemed to hold. Lucius noted in passing that if Harry had briefly been made younger by the fire, he seemed to have returned to his present-day height.

Lucius told him afterwards to be careful what he said.

"It's possible we're observed, though my watch charm suggests currently not." He added, "I set that on you after Macnair left us."

Harry asked dispiritedly if Lucius had anything in mind beyond some consolatory sex before the next session, and the next, and the next, until Voldemort had what he wanted or Harry went mad from pain.

"Stupid child, I want you out of here," Lucius hissed.

Harry brightened a bit. "How?"

"I have the key to this cell. I'm supposed to be interrogating you. The Dark Lord should remember how stubborn you are; and if he didn't you've just reminded him. You gave him nothing."

"I screamed my head off. And now he knows I am enough phoenix to renew myself in the fire. I didn't mean to do that, Lucius. It just happened."

"Screams don't matter. Pain doesn't matter. What matters is survival, resistance. He knows the fire renews you, yes, but he doesn't know how to get it for himself. It's plain enough you don't know how he could either."

"Drain my blood and use it," Harry said gloomily. "He doesn't have to worry about killing me - if he pushes me too far I suppose the fire will spring up again. Wonderful. You think my being part phoenix is such a great deal, Lucius - it may be pretty, but it's just another trap. He gets the ha'pence, I get the kicks." Lucius looked enquiring. "He benefits, I lose."

Lucius smiled savagely. "Not for ever, Harry. We're going to have a looong enquiry session tonight; Death Eaters sleep like other people. When things are quiet enough, we'll go."

It was late already. Lucius left him to rest, to sleep if he could, and went to consult with his Lord on the line of enquiry he should take.

The boy, he reported, though whole, was very much shaken, and might collapse very quickly if pressed too hard. So far his response to being pressed too hard had not been helpful. Lucius proposed to let him rest and when he was stronger and far less likely to be able to faint his way out of interrogation, would resume.

Voldemort discontentedly assented. He cheered up enough to remark that at least they could be sure Harry Potter did not command the true phoenix's ability to disappear at will.

Lucius reflected that his Lord would not dare experiment with Harry Potter's blood on another follower, in case alone and thus simply it bestowed immortality. He would want no competition there. As it was he was going to have to work out some way of dealing with an immortal Potter, certainly a hateful prospect.

~~HP~~LM~~

Some time later Peter Pettigrew came to Lucius with a demand not only for the key, but also for Lucius's wand - a security precaution their master wanted, he claimed. After all, at Lucius's instigation Harry Potter was no longer wearing the magic-suppression collar. What if he got his cunning little hands on Lucius's wand? And the key? No, no.

Lucius argued, but Voldemort appeared and was quite displeased Lucius was resisting orders.

"Get in there and turn the little bastard inside out, Lucius. You know what I want. And with no key and no wand," Voldemort grinned unpleasantly, "you can tell him you're out of favour, you'll help him. Seduce him, Lucius; you're good at that. Persuade him you'll truly protect him if he cooperates. Make him emotionally dependent on you. I'll give you a week. We need that long any way to research and experiment with power transfer charms. Get the little fool to trust you. He's a Gryffindor, they always trust too readily. Get his secrets for me, Lucius, and I'll forget the way you put your son before your master - oh, yes, you did, and I know it."

Lucius snarled, "I got my son, yes, what other excuse did I have for going near Potter?"

He forced himself to speak calmly. "I also got Potter out in the open where you could snatch him, and trusting me sufficiently that his security thought they could do it too, which gave Bellatrix and Walden their opening. Without me they couldn't have done it. He would have been whisked back to safety, if Draco hadn't delayed him."

Lucius was saying anything that came into his head, desperately, but it did seem to hang together quite well.

He went on reproachfully, careful not to accuse, "You should have told me what you planned, Master; not knowing, I might have done the wrong thing."

"Dear Lucius, if you'd done the wrong thing then I wouldn't be trusting you with his interrogation now. Get into that cell - if fact, I think we should rough you up a little, help Potter decide you're out of favour and so more likely to help him so he can help you. You'd need a new master, if I discarded you, wouldn't you, Lucius."

'Not fucking likely, not again,' Lucius thought, 'and not for several generations of Malfoys either.'

He could see he was not going to win this argument, so he submitted gracefully. He handed over his wand to an overly cheerful Wormtail, murder in his heart, and the key also, with profound irritation: how could they get out now? Macnair and a couple of others then took care, rather too thoroughly, of roughing him up, and tossed him into the dark with Harry. Before the door closed Walden Macnair lifted his wand and installed a dim Lumos on the ceiling over the shelf where Harry Potter sat.

Lucius suspected that whether he was truly mistrusted, or merely temporarily out of favour, it would be hard work to reclaim his position with his Dark Lord, and thought he did not want to. If he wanted a powerful wizard to be an advisor to, Harry was more likely to be grateful. He was certainly not going near Dumbledore if he could help it. Have to think of a way to talk Harry into some compromise position. Have to decide what a compromise position could be. Think about that later.

~~HP~~LM~~

Harry was dismayed when Lucius unceremoniously joined him, crawling from the floor to the shelf then heaving himself up beside the boy. He was more dismayed when Lucius revealed he had been stripped not only of the cell key but also of his wand. It was even worse that he was probably genuinely regarded as unreliable, rather than being urged to do his best through fear of rejection by his master, even though that had not been articulated.

Lucius shrugged. "Nothing to do now. We'll have to wait our chance. They are careless sometimes. I'm supposed to seduce you, isn't that funny, Harry?"

Harry looked at him dubiously; Lucius sounded decidedly odd, but in this dim light it was hard to tell his expression. He thought Lucius could probably do with a consoling cuddle. He pushed him down and put his arms round him, shifting so that he lay partly over him, and draped his wings so both their bodies were covered. This was instantly effective; Lucius relaxed, and embraced him.

When Harry found Lucius really meant there was no chance of action for now, and that Lucius really had been directed to extract his secrets by having sex with him, it gave him a good giggle. Lucius pretended to take offence at this, though enormously relieved that Harry seemed to have recovered from his earlier trance of fear and depression.

Harry said, "Well, everyone wants us to have sex, so how about we make love instead, then?"

~~HP~~LM~~

Rather later Harry said, "You should stop calling me 'child'."

Lucius was amused. "But compared to me you are. You're my son's age. I'm twenty-five years your elder."

"I'm still sixteen."

"Legally you are of age for some purposes, and mentally, emotionally, you have for long been more adult than many wizards with long white beards have ever been."

Harry wondered if Lucius was consciously referring to Dumbledore but was not going to be distracted into arguing about that.

Eyes narrowed he demanded, "And is a child what you'd prefer? How will you feel when I'm twenty? Thirty?"

This was the first reference to a future between them that had been made, and neither had considered it. Even Lucius had not considered the implications of that strong Malfoy possessiveness.

Both were taken aback.

Harry said quickly, "I shouldn't have said that."

"If you are concerned, you should say it now, not wonder, and perhaps grow bitter or afraid, wondering. Yes, of course I like you as you are now, part boy, part man - slender, but with real muscle under that fine skin that won't always be so fine; growing in strength, but still a little uncertain with it. You're probably never going to have your father's height - but I don't think Draco will ever quite match mine, though he wasn't starved and abused all through his childhood growing years, as you were. And he'll always be slim; he takes after Narcissa's family.

"But what I want is Harry, whatever Harry looks like. I was attracted to Harry the child, but I don't have sex with children. I have to admit to being entranced by the wings, the tail, despite their inconveniences; I love the delicate feathering on your ribs."

Harry scowled; he thought that a quite useless embellishment - at least the wings had proved to have utility. Though having those feathers stroked was remarkably pleasing.

"Harry is unique." Very softly and with some surprise Lucius said, "I could love Harry."

His references to a future had been slight, oblique, but nonetheless reassuring; it was enough, for now. They both backed away from that weighty word 'love'.

Lucius was not prepared to say what he was thinking, that given a normal wizarding lifespan, the twenty-five years between them would eventually be as nothing.

Harry was content to be reassured. He enjoyed the sex, he was entranced by it, addicted, but what he loved was the caring that went with it - though sometimes he tried to warn himself that Lucius Malfoy was a skilled actor, liar, deceiver, and perhaps the caring was only a seeming. Malfoy had enough motives for pretence, after all. If it turned out to be so, he would bear it as best he could, but he knew he would not want to break his deceitful lover's neck. And for now Harry would enjoy what he was given.

Lucius felt something similar, but was much more confident of his lover's reliability. Very pleasant to have a lover he could trust; there should be more of it.

~~HP~~LM~~

Eventually it was very late at night, things were quiet, and Lucius sat up and said they should start looking into escape.

Harry said brightly, "Muggle locks, yes? Guess what, Lucius: Muggle lockpicks! Remember my lucky lockpicks?"

"Which you've never used," Lucius warned.

"They worked fine in Privet Drive," Harry said firmly, "so if that's really all that's keeping us in, Lucius, I don't see why they shouldn't work here."

Harry's Muggle picklocks certainly seemed to be effective on the lock, but his wrists were not strong enough to force the wards of the lock apart, even when he had Lucius grip his hands.

Lucius encouraged, "A phoenix is strong."

Harry shook his hands. "These are Harry, not phoenix."

He thought about crying with frustration, decided not to waste time, and forced himself to rest until he could try again. "Quidditch only does so much for natural strength."

Shortly Harry said quietly, "Lucius, you may need some of my secrets."

Lucius looked alarmed, and said quickly, "No, Harry!"

"Don't worry! If Tom Riddle in his orphanage read the right books in primary school, he might have come across some of them. It's all stuff Hermione told me, or that I found in Muggle books she owled me after she went home for summer. I can't fly, Lucius."

Harry smiled. "Were you hoping for a mating flight?"

Even in the dim light Lucius definitely looked embarrassed.

"Sorry, nothing doing. A phoenix is about the size of a swan, yes? And the swan is one of the heaviest birds there are. It weighs about thirty-five pounds. What do you think I weigh? A swan must have still water to take off and land, and it's fiendishly hard work. Birds - all birds - have much more efficient lungs than us, and I don't think my lungs have changed. As well as that, they have air sacs through their bodies, so the air circulates and they use all of it - not like us. I'm still breathing the same way.

"Birds have light bones - but very strong. To support these wings and my weight in flight I'd need not just the breastbone I have holding my ribs together, but a whacking great keel like a sailboat. I worked it out one day, when I started wondering why the headmaster was so insistent I shouldn't try to fly.

"And I'm not covered with feathers - I'm not aerodynamically smooth enough for flight, I don't have the ability to use all the surfaces of my body as a set of adjustable aerofoils."

Lucius interrupted. "You're not a bird," he said passionately, "you are a wizard, who has been partly changed to a magical creature. You have magic. You could fly, with it."

"Well don't convince Voldemort, all right?" Harry asked acerbically. "Give him the bird data, if you need to assure him you've been excavating my secrets."

"Ah," Lucius relaxed a little.

"You really want me to be able to fly, don't you?"

"The idea of that mating flight was exciting," Lucius admitted. "But mostly, it seems a shame you should have such wings, so strong, so beautiful, and a functioning tail, yet not be able to fly."

Harry shrugged. "If we get out of here it looks as if I'll have plenty of time to find out whether magic will make the difference, doesn't it."

Lucius realised that Harry was not enamoured of the idea of immortality. "You don't want to live for ever, renewing yourself to fully functioning adulthood, in the flames, as the Dark Lord would like to?"

"Alone? What for, Lucius?"

He added sombrely, "Any ambition that Voldemort has, I would hesitate to share. He's seriously mad, Lucius. Remember the Philosopher's Stone he was so anxious to steal? Did you know that Nicolas and Peronelle Flamel were quite happy to give up life after only six hundred years or so - even with each other's company? Like going to sleep after a long day, Dumbledore said. Who would want for ever? How long would I be human? Dumbledore purges his memories with a pensieve, and he's only one hundred and fifty or so. Maybe the fire of renewal would purge the phoenix Harry memories, as well as the physical stress, just as sleep clears the brain, tidies up the memories - but I don't think I want to need to find out."

He got up abruptly. "Picklock time."

This time, as Lucius gripped Harry's wrists to help him fight against the inertia of the lock, he felt very sober. He had rejoiced in Harry's beauty, in his potential for the joy of flight, and had not thought about immortality. Like Voldemort he had assumed it to be a good thing - though not necessarily in a prisoner being ruthlessly tortured. Harry had been trying to work out, if he were indeed truly immortal, not just able to renew himself in the flames for a while, how long he could remain himself, when he would cease to be a human being. A hard thing for a boy not yet seventeen. A terrifying thing, perhaps.

~~HP~~LM~~

Harry simply could not shift the wards. So they decided he should teach Lucius to use the picklocks, so that his greater strength could be applied directly. That would delay their departure, possibly by nearly twenty-four hours if they had to wait for a quiet time of night again. They had been planning to huddle under the invisibility cloak and hoped to sneak up on someone, knock him out and seize his wand - without one there was no way past the wards, Lucius's Dark Mark or not.

Patience. Time. Practice. When Lucius's fingers and wrists could no longer bear the strain of holding back the wards with the narrow rods and wires, sex. Only after that, thought.

Harry took the lead, insisting Lucius should not demand more of his hands. Lucius laughed softly and agreed. He found it oddly exciting to be passive under Harry's hands, lying on the shelf even narrower than Harry's bed in the infirmary, with the boy leaning over him, touching him as he willed and as Lucius demanded (if Harry felt like it), the raised wings obscuring everything but Harry. Lucius encouraged Harry to fuck him, and Harry was delighted to have the opportunity to do so.

He approached it slowly, however, as Lucius so often did, seizing the chance to torment Lucius by giving him pleasure but denying him satisfaction. He took care to do all the things that Lucius did to him, and then he did them again, until Lucius gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, demanding, "Now!"

Harry said softly, "Your hands, Lucius," and turned his head to kiss the wrist nearest his mouth.

His own hand came up to brush over the long fingers whose hard grip suggested his lover had rested sufficiently.

Lucius moaned softly, "Please," then he closed his eyes and turned his head aside, before he dropped his hands.

Harry murmured, "You're not ashamed to ask, are you? Don't be. You're my lover, you can ask me anything."

"Then please, please, Harry, take me now, I can't wait, I can't bear it longer!"

Harry pressed his fingers against Lucius's mouth. "Open, then, lick my fingers, suck them, get them as wet as you can - there's no oil here, I don't want you hurting -"

Between his teeth Lucius said, "I mean it, Harry, now, now, I won't wait."

Harry's eyes widened. Lucius had always been careful and considerate with him, going slowly, and he thought that would hurt rather a lot. He himself was quite excited enough to take the risk of discomfort, but it would mean more than discomfort for Lucius. His lover looked as if he was in agony already, though, so Harry hesitated no longer.

He nudged at Lucius's thighs with one knee, and they parted promptly for him. He moved between them and lifted Lucius's legs, draping them over his shoulders, lifting his wings clear, and slid closer. He wet his fingers in his own mouth and used them, despite Lucius's refusal to wait, then pushed hard.

Lucius groaned deeply, and Harry could not withstand a pained moan himself. That was very uncomfortable. He continued

Lucius's groans were muffled; Harry looked up to see Lucius had one hand thrust hard into his mouth, and Lucius's whole body was braced as if to oppose his invasion. His free hand was clenched, the fingers clawing into the cloak he lay on.

Lucius lifted his hand away from his mouth and gasped, "Don't stop."

"Crazy," Harry muttered, but it was undeniably exciting, that Lucius was willing for him to do this, submitting himself to a real mastery.

Lucius wailed as Harry thrust deeply into him. Then his hands moved to grip Harry. That was not comfortable either, but Harry was starting to feel that having him like this was worth any amount of discomfort.

He began to make larger movements, and Lucius's vocal responses intensified. Only a little experiment was required to ensure that he was giving Lucius pleasure; the change in the sounds he

At last Harry was fully lodged, but he did not stop moving. His own body was screaming for climax, but he wanted to hold back; he wanted, if he could, to bring Lucius to that long drop, to hear his release, before he took his own satisfaction.

Lucius choked, and gasped, and whimpered, and Harry's strongest grip could no longer keep his hips still. Lucius bucked against him, and cried out. It was almost a scream, and Harry did not know if it was pain or pleasure or both, and he no longer cared, either. Lucius wanted this, and he wanted it too, and he would have it all, every gasp, every cry, every scream he could elicit.

It could not last long, even though Lucius's reactions were slowed. He stiffened, his back arched, and he screamed once, sharply, then a long wail of satisfaction issued from his lips.

Harry managed to pull his hands away before they gripped too hard, as his own climax rushed over him, snatching breath, vision, and sense, wringing his body out until he collapsed onto his lover. His hands opened, his muscles began to relax from their tight lock, and the great wings at last came down from their wide spread, settling on to his body, enclosing him and his lover in warm red darkness.

They lay quivering still, until the last of the triumphant tension passed out of their bodies. Harry heard Lucius say something, but ignored it until his breathing became slow and easy once more.

Then he moved, folding back his wings before he lifted his head, then his body, to look at Lucius in their dim light. Lucius lay quiet, one hand over his eyes, the other by his side. That sheltering hand suddenly worried Harry.

He demanded, "Are you all right? Did I really hurt you?" Then, sharply, "Lucius!"

The hand moved and Lucius smiled at him, faint, but real, with the relaxed ease he seldom displayed except after satisfying sex. Harry was enormously relieved to see his

"Hey," Harry said softly, and leaned forward to kiss him. The soft lips parted for him, and their tongues explored each other's mouths gently, without urgency.

Lucius's arms came round him, shifting him up the larger body with due care for his wings and the feathered back, and settled him with his head on Lucius's shoulder, cushioned on a mass of the pale blond hair Harry liked to play with. His fingers stroked a long strand, then he sighed, and wound it round them.

Harry murmured, "That really was what you wanted?"

"Yes. I wouldn't want it always, or often -"

"I can imagine!"

Harry could hear Lucius's smile. "No, because on the whole, my child, I enjoy fucking you, a lot, and I don't plan to give it up. But that was good. You could be a demanding lover, if you put your mind to it."

"If!" Harry said, with mild indignation. "I thought I fucked you right into the shelf!"

Lucius laughed softly. "You tried," he agreed. "Maybe some day you should try again." Then his fingers caressed Harry's neck gently. "Don't take it amiss. You were delightful - I loved that fierce determination. If we stay together, I can have it again."

~~HP~~LM~~

Lucius told Harry it was long after dawn. It seemed that they were to be left strictly alone.

They rested after that, weary, hungry, a little thirsty, but content, and managed to sleep despite the hunger and the rough narrow bed that cramped their bodies together. They were roused by hearing noises outside, but Lucius's watch charm assured him that there was no human there.

Lucius realised suddenly that it was Invidia, and when he spoke to the owl he had an eager and quite noisy response. He managed to get the owl to hush, and wait, and renewed his efforts with the picklocks.

Still no success.

So Lucius coaxed Invidia into freeing its message and pushing the scroll under the door. By scraping the skin, Harry could just get a couple of fingers under one end of the door, nearest the hinges, so that Invidia's claw could nudge the scroll between them. Harry edged the message out. Lucius persuaded his owl to wait patiently and silently, until he was ready to respond - somehow.

It was a very small piece of parchment, a message from Draco, obscure, but meaningful, sent to an unknown destination. 'L, wherever.' Invidia of course could find Lucius, as owls could always find the person their message was addressed to. It had been to the Rookwood Mansion before, though not often, and accepted, admitted, as the personal bird of a senior Death Eater.

The message asked for a reply with their location, and offered a time when Draco planned to come, if they needed help.

Lucius told Harry Draco also proposed that his father abandon Voldemort.

Leaning even closer against his lover's shoulder Harry asked, "Where's that?"

"See this sigil he's drawn at the end?"

It was quite an intricate little design, and might pass for a signature seal in place of a name not safe to write.

Lucius explained about Dealing with the Dark. The design was in fact letters, standing for a phrase in Old French, in which nearly half of the book was written: 'Non plus foy tens.' There were a number of such little designs through the Malfoy family handbook, standing for the principles the book elaborated on.

"Keep faith no more."

Harry said, "'Abandon Ship Now', in fact."

"Yes." Lucius did not then say whether he would accept that proposal, either.

Draco had written, 'If you do not speak, I will go where blood will find blood.'

He meant that if he received no reply he would seek Dumbledore's aid to locate his father. They might not be able to find Harry, but Draco's blood tie, and his blood, would enable a sufficiently powerful wizard to find his sire. Draco clearly trusted that finding Lucius would result in finding Harry.

Lucius did not want this, but he might have to accept the offer.

Harry asked if Invidia would be able to take the scroll back to Draco in its beak, or a claw; Lucius believed it could.

So what message to send Draco? And how? Lucius had no quill. He did, however, have his folding silver pocketknife, his only actual weapon now he was wandless, though it was little more than a toy.

Harry suggested scratching a line through the part of the message proposing that Draco come to join them. If they could get out by themselves, good; if not, better Dumbledore should come, than Draco alone.

Lucius grumbled over this, but scratched a line through those words. Then, most carefully, he inscribed a circle around the cryptic drawing. There was no need to say aloud what that meant. Harry understood. After some debate he also scratched four little semicircles, open sides down, each with three tiny rays. He followed this with an arrow and the initials AD. The parchment was of good quality and able to take this, whereas the cheaper stuff used at school might not have taken such an impress without tearing.

Harry began, "What -" Then he nodded. "Oh. Voldemort gave you a week - tonight we will have five days left."

"Yes. I hope without that prompt Draco will understand I want him to wait for four days. If we are not out by then, we will need Dumbledore's help. I only hope we won't be in need of it before."

He looked at Harry. "Are you willing to delay so long?"

Harry shrugged, then said simply, "I understand you do not want to be bound to him if you can avoid it, if you can get free of your master without him."

He made no criticism of this desire - though he did hope Voldemort would not change his mind about allowing Lucius several days in which to persuade or intimidate him into cooperation.

Lucius rolled the scroll into a tight cylinder and bound it with one of his long pale hairs, a convincing though not absolute proof that the message came from him. That Invidia bore it would probably be a better proof.

Harry managed to push it under the door for the owl, which scraped it delicately from between his fingers. Lucius then coaxed Invidia to go to Draco without having seen him, to carry the message in its claw. Invidia made worried little baby owl sounds of protest, then stopped. Its wings were always silent, but Harry (fingers still under the door) reported that he could feel the disturbance of the air as the large wings beat fiercely to lift Invidia from the stone floor - not the best take-off point for so large a bird.

~~HP~~LM~~

Lucius licked Harry's scraped fingers. This turned into lovemaking, and eventually Lucius wanted to fuck Harry, though again they

Lucius was lying on their shelf bed waiting for him, and Harry straddled Lucius's hips and slowly lowered himself. He did not complain when Lucius's hands gripped him; he rather thought he might need the help of compulsion. Lucius however was much gentler with him than he had permitted Harry to be with himself. Harry's hard-held breath gradually eased; this was not as difficult as he had expected.

Lucius lingered for a while, more in control of himself now, until Harry was whimpering softly, shuddering, as his excitement grew.

"Ah, now," Lucius murmured.

He exhaled softly, expressing his own appreciation, as he pressed as deeply

"Lift up," Lucius demanded, "rise and fall, Harry. Take me as far as you can each time. I want to be deep inside you, so deep you think I'll never leave!"

"Yes," Harry gasped, and willingly complied.

Soon they were moving constantly, always in rhythm, and Lucius saw that, as before, Harry's wings spread and slowly beat in time. He could feel the dry still air moving in waves against his face, his body. He also saw when the movement of the wings speeded up; then he gripped Harry harder. He closed his eyes, pleased to know that the whole of Harry's body responded to him, but needing now to concentrate on his own sensations.

They came to climax quickly, each of them urgent to achieve it, not interested in teasing delay. Harry cried out softly as Lucius's hand closed round him, as if Lucius had been able to tell when the moment would strike, or forcing it with his touch. Harry did not know, did not care, but let himself go, as that hand pressed him further, and further, until there was no further to go. His body arched backward, his head going far back as his mouth opened in a silent scream. The wings came forward to balance his weight as the whole of him tautened then flung itself into release.

Lucius waited, and waited, then let himself take the final pleasure beyond which there was no more, but rest, and ease from striving, and as Harry's body sank forward to rest on his embraced him hard.

After a while he said, "Harry."

"Hmmm?" The boy sounded almost asleep.

Lucius felt it too. "Sleep, child, stay close. We have nothing to do but keep each other warm."

~~HP~~LM~~

They slept for long, but woke together.

Harry began to caress Lucius's hair, taking handfuls and drawing them through his fingers, working though all of it, as if each hair needed his touch. Lucius was very content he should do so, pleased as much with Harry's wish as with the sensations he created.

The boy's fingers ghosted gently over his scalp, down his neck, across his shoulders, following his hair, until Harry brushed it aside and bent his head to suck delicately at one of Lucius's nipples. Lucius shuddered at the needle shaft of pleasure that created, but lay still as Harry gradually worked the whole of his body into pleasure, enjoying the gift his lover wanted to give him.

Harry allowed him to clasp his shoulders, run his hands down the boy's arms, stroke the fingers that stroked his body with the skill Lucius had taught him, but made it clear that apart from that Lucius should not move.

At last Harry kissed and licked and sucked at Lucius until he could resist no longer, and climaxed on a deep-voiced, almost inaudible groan.

Some time after that Lucius returned the compliment, and exerted himself to ensure his lover was wholly helpless in his hands before he too was allowed his satisfaction.

They rested, then, planning to wait for late night once more. Even Voldemort slept.

After sunset was long past, by Lucius's mental clock, still no one had brought them food, and the water jug Lucius had initially provided when Harry was put into the cell was getting low. While this might be remedied, it might not, too, in which case after nearly a week both would be in bad shape when someone did come to see how Lucius was getting on in his task of seduction of his fellow prisoner.

Lucius admitted to himself that he could not make love with Harry often enough to prevent himself from thinking, and he did need to face his situation and consider how best to remedy it. If possible, how to exploit it.

While it was possible he might regain his position in the Dark Lord's favour, it would be unwise to assume it. He had a tendency to write off the potentially unreliable follower. Lucius's alternative was to join his former master's opponents. The idea of submitting to Dumbledore revolted him, but what other power was there that could oppose that of the Dark Lord? He turned his head to look at the boy who slept on his breast. Such a power might lie there.

Lucius had seduced Harry into helping him, or - he must face it - merely encouraged Harry to do what he wanted anyway, to free Draco from an imprisonment he thought unjust. If he could compass Harry's escape, the boy might trust him more fully than he now did. Lucius thought he should not mistake his willingness to engage in sex for anything stronger than a temporary alliance improved by a temporary pleasure. Once their goal of freedom was attained, would Harry be willing to continue to extend him trust, tolerance - could Harry learn to accept him? Would Harry make a true alliance? If he would...

He knew that though his master had achieved much by his own efforts, his own powers, he had been greatly helped by Lucius's skills, his guidance, however tactfully given. Already without him his Lord was making mistakes. Lucius could guide Harry, too, and he could be open about it. Indeed, Harry would be far more likely to trust guidance openly given.

He did not imagine that he might make Harry into another great Dark Lord. Circumstances, or experience, if unfortunate enough, might do so, over a long enough time, but Lucius Malfoy had no such power. If he was to become Harry Potter's ally he must set aside his family's traditional devotion to Dark magic. Well, that had been done before, too. Draco would have to cooperate fully, though. Lucius did not want to have to choose between his son and his lover; trying might well paralyse him.

He drifted into sleep still making tentative plans. There would be plenty of time later, either here or after they succeeded in escaping, to talk over possibilities with Harry.

~~HP~~LM~~

"You were serious, weren't you, about reconciling our aims."

"I was. I am. So long as nothing is done, beyond Obliviators applying Memory Charms to the odd Muggle who sees something unfortunate, the wizarding world will always be at risk of discovery, and persecution, such as all our ancestors knew, and many of them suffered from. I am not prepared to tolerate that risk. Wizards of pure blood do seem to understand, better, how significant that risk is, what it entails. But if you can lead us to a way of living with the Muggle-born that does not entail that risk, you will have widespread support. We are not, you know, anxious to be ruled so absolutely as Voldemort would do, if there is a viable alternative."

Harry noticed that Lucius flinched slightly as he said the name. He murmured, "You find it hard to say his name, just as most people do."

"I don't believe that he hears his name when we speak it, but he is a Dark Lord, Harry. It would not surprise me if he could, either. But you are not afraid to say it, any more than Dumbledore is."

"If he's not, why should I be? It's only a name - unless that feeling you have is not superstition, but understanding."

Dryly Lucius said, "Dumbledore is a stronger wizard than either of us, and in any case can look after himself. Even if he is making no effort to reconcile the needs of those who legitimately fear betrayal to Muggles with his own need not to be ruled by my master - my former master - or someone else who could and would enforce adequate security for the wizarding world. I believe that you too, one day, will be a very powerful wizard."

He sighed. "We need to get out of here, though, before we can do anything about the things we have discussed."

"Mmmm. Never mind it now, Lucius, just rest. Would you like some water?"

"We'd better ration it as we have been doing. We can both have some later."

In the late evening there were small sounds outside the cell door. This time each of them recognised them, and sprang apart and up, abandoning his leisurely toying with the other's body.

Lucius knelt by the door. "Invidia!"

The owl made little greeting chirrups, then scratched once at the wood. Another message? Harry shoved his fingers under the door once more, wincing as the previously scraped skin was rasped raw again. What Invidia's claw pushed between his fingers was a very small cylinder of parchment which, unrolled, proved to be unaddressed, unsigned, and to contain only a few symbols: a heart, an exclamation mark, and three sun symbols.

Harry said, "Heart up? And he's not prepared to wait four days. Lucius, I think we must get out tonight."

"Somehow," Lucius agreed.

There was no need to send a reply, but Invidia refused to leave. Lucius speculated, in some annoyance, that Draco had bidden the owl stay with his father.

Harry said brightly, "We can't have anything happen to Invidia; that settles it, tonight."

Lucius laughed a little, as Harry intended.

They would proceed with their plan, but now they would have to take, and conceal, an enormous owl as well.

Lucius's torn robes would not protect his shoulder or his wrist from Invidia's claws, and he had no wand to summon up the leather padding and glove he normally used.

Harry tore a broad strip off the margin of his elaborate cloak. This was rather ratty looking now, after a battle, a kidnapping, and being used as bedding on a stone floor and then on their current shelf cot. Lucius converted part of it to a pad and used the rest to bind it to his shoulder. The fine red double-lined silk looked like a particularly odd bandage across Lucius's shoulder and chest. He asked for a second strip. Harry was no longer concerned with physical privacy, and gave it readily.

Lucius discovered Harry did not know an invisibility cloak could be extended using a built-in facility for which a wand was not needed. Harry clucked in annoyance that Dumbledore had carefully refrained from telling him about this, probably to limit the wandering the trio could do with it. On reflection, when James Potter used it, it must often have been used to conceal four teenagers, three of them tall, which was not possible in its usual form.

Lucius stroked the front edges till the cloak was a good two foot longer, then the back of the hood, so that it would belly out to accommodate the bird on his shoulder, without risk of the hood then falling free of his head.

Then Lucius turned to the lock again.

At last Lucius's skill was adequate - a Muggle door, an old lock, installed in the last century, or even the one before, killingly heavy, but not intricate. The simple wards at last relented, and the door opened to let them out. Invidia promptly came in.

Lucius leaned firmly against the open door, but did not yet leave the cell. He bound his wrist and arm with the second cloak strip, then went to his knees by the owl to caress it into stopping its mixture of grumbles and welcome, before he allowed Invidia to hop to his wrist, then carefully settled the bird on his shoulder. Harry grinned as Invidia promptly began to preen Lucius's hair. Lucius rolled his eyes.

They arranged the invisibility cloak around themselves. Inconvenient as it was having to drape it over Invidia's addition to their height, the bird was safer on Lucius's shoulder. He needed both his hands free for physical violence, which with the pitifully slight penknife would be the only defence or offence they had.

~~HP~~LM~~

They made their way up from the lower level cellar to the underground hall. As Lucius's internal clock had shown (a skill he had promised to teach Harry later, when they had wands again), it was late at night.

The hall was deserted, but there was one guard on duty: Wormtail, no more than moderately alert, certainly not expecting trouble of any kind. Both of them mentally rubbed their hands, and Lucius hoped that Peter still had his wand. If not, Peter's would do. All being well, he could break Wormtail's neck - after he had his wand. He had no doubt Wormtail could be made to tell him where it was, if not on his person. He hoped Harry would not try to restrain him from killing Peter; he suspected he might do what Harry wanted - humiliating. Still, there would probably be worse to swallow later.

Peter was ambushed and the wand extorted and Peter's broken - and as Lucius feared Harry did not want the little rat killed, so Lucius had to content himself with applying Petrificus Totalis. Harry did not want him to add Crucio to that, either, which was irritating. Too Gryffindorishly noble, after the way Peter had participated in Harry's torture.

"I hope you're not sorry next time you meet him," Lucius muttered, as he dragged the stiff body with its starting eyes into the most obscure corner of the hall.

Dragging Peter back to their cell and leaving him locked there was not worth the risk created by the extra time it would take, though the remembrance of Peter having to wait several days to be found would have entertained Lucius in idle moments later. Sad, that.

With vague memories of reading about a falconer's duty to repair his bird's wings when a feather was damaged, Lucius quickly collected up the intact feathers still lying about the hall. Harry folded the invisibility cloak carefully and stowed it in its pocket. They had not needed it after surprising Peter Pettigrew, and he was anxious not to lose it.

He muttered, "Bring all of them, in case in themselves they offer magic."

Lucius nodded.

Now to see if they could walk through the wards. Invidia could pass; probably Lucius could still pass; but Harry?

Harry waited while Lucius tested whether he was able to leave: yes.

Lucius returned and carefully took down the wards so Harry could exit.

Harry muttered disapproval of such careless housekeeping. It was rather obvious to them now that Voldemort trusted Lucius no longer, so why not cancel all his privileges?

Lucius said dryly that thinking of that kind of thing had tended to be his job, just as it had not occurred to Voldemort that binding Harry's ability to use magic would prevent the renewal of the phoenix.

"And he thinks he's capable of ruling the world? He's barking!"

Lucius admitted, "Yes, I'm coming to think so. But since I must now oppose him, I suppose I should be thankful for his short-comings."

They had discussed this, at intervals over the long, hungry day. Lucius was too powerful to be allowed to be neutral. His former master would pursue him vengefully if he could not achieve strong protections, for which his own power was probably insufficient. The Ministry of Magic would certainly be reluctant to leave an apparently neutral Lucius Malfoy with real power, and capable of returning to his former service. Lucius believed Dumbledore would not help him, either against Voldemort or against the Ministry, unless Lucius firmly committed to his service instead.

Lucius was enormously reluctant to do this, and had spent most of the day trying to persuade Harry to take a middle-of-the-road position Lucius could live with.

Lucius would like to see pure blood ruling the wizarding world, but he was convinced it was not, now, going to happen in his generation, so he wanted a compromise.

Harry would never accept any position that involved oppression of Muggles or diminution of the rights of Muggle-born wizards and witches. Lucius thought they might eventually be able to agree to a situation where serious attention was paid to the security of the wizarding world in the form of special education for the Muggle-born. It would be unrealistic to expect them to break with their families, and wizards adrift from family ties were potentially dangerous too, if in a different way.

Lucius would always despise Muggle-born wizards and witches, but if the threat their existence posed was neutralised, either in that benign way, or by forcibly imposing silence on them, he could ignore their existence. Someone would have to develop an appropriate compulsion charm, but that should not be too onerous a task.

"Nothing like Imperius," Harry had warned flatly, and Lucius had assented, knowing he had no option.

"Perhaps a binding contract, when a Muggle-born child enters Hogwarts," Lucius had speculated. "A contract that affects the family as well, to silence their tongues. You would rely on Dumbledore to ensure it was not harmful, would you not?"

He knew Harry would not let him ignore the existence of the Muggle-born, of course. Harry himself was not Muggle-born but his mother was. The way he had been treated by her relatives, however, ensured that his ties with the Muggle world would be broken as soon as he was free to make his own choices.

Could Lucius offer him a protection equal to that of his mother's blood if he no longer went to her sister at least once a year, as Dumbledore has warned he must for his protective Familius charm to be effective? Probably not. But a nominal visit might suffice to maintain Dumbledore's charm. The rest of Harry's time out of school could be spent at Malfoy Manor, if he willed.

In those long hours in Harry's cell, in between making love and wrestling with picklocks, Lucius had looked ahead, not only for a centre of power opposed to the Dark Lord which was not Dumbledore, but for his personal relationship with Harry.

He had never loved Narcissa, nor wanted to, any more than she had loved him, but they had cooperated easily enough, and always maintained courtesy to each other. He had never loved anyone, except his son. He had been wondering if he loved Harry. He would be reluctant to do so, except that he needed Harry to help save the Malfoys from the dangers of the wizarding world - and admitted that that was an excuse he was making to himself. Never mind. He shrugged away the question. He was hardly competent to recognise love.

Harry was far more reasonable than Voldemort, much less manipulative than Dumbledore, though powerful, and likely to become more so. Harry had not really thought about his phoenix powers, but Lucius had come to think he had them, must learn them, must master them, and would begin to use them. And if Harry were to have such powers, and to use them, Lucius Malfoy would prefer to be at his side, guarding, guiding, benefiting, rather than at risk of becoming at some time opposed to him as well as to Voldemort and to Dumbledore.

~~HP~~LM~~

There was no difficulty at all in using Lucius's Portkey to get themselves and Invidia to Malfoy Manor. By that time it was close to dawn.

The return of the master of the house brought the Malfoy major-domo, discreetly offering service, and a couple of cautious and humble house elves. Draco, Lucius was told, was in the study, while the young witch was, with the young master's permission, working in the Library, though the major-domo suspected she would be asleep by now.

"Hermione," Harry breathed.

Lucius nodded. There were more urgent things to do than to see his son and the Mudblood - no, Muggle-born witch - he had installed in the house. Or than to take the bath, the clean clothes, the refreshment, the assistance for his companion, that the servants offered, or even the food they longed for. He did demand water to drink, though, for both of them.

Immediately after drinking his fill Lucius started resetting the wards. Their experience at the Rookwood Mansion ensured he would not forget to revise his security, and to tighten it to a point where a mouse - or a rat animagus - could not penetrate it. Once Death Eaters and especially Voldemort were excluded, he allowed Harry entrance privileges.

She was enormously relieved not only to see Harry, alive and intact, but also to find that Mr Malfoy did not appear to resent her presence in his house. She did stare at a Lucius Malfoy she had never seen: bruised, untidy, robes dirty and torn, hair disordered, his right arm and shoulder swathed in red silk and an eagle owl still riding thereon. She stared too at Harry, looking oddly younger, shining, quite unmarked, still clad in the formal outfit he had worn to the court hearing, none of it fit for anything but cleaning rags now, the much shortened cloak no longer concealing either wings or tail.

Lucius took control of the rejoicing that the exhausted children fell into. First, their obligations to others, especially to the wizard whom all of them needed.

He knelt at his fireplace to speak with Dumbledore, at once advising him that Harry was safe - and Lucius too, if he cared. He gave assurance that Harry would be protected at Malfoy Manor, that the Malfoys had abandoned the Dark Lord (he having abandoned them quite spectacularly) and would support Harry, and of course Dumbledore, the supreme wizard of his age.

This was not really news to Draco, but a pleasant surprise to Hermione. Dumbledore calmly accepted it all, blinking neither at the flattery nor at the striking about face in policy. He made no objection to Harry's remaining at the Manor, though he said Harry must, later, when things had settled down, go to visit his family - after Dumbledore had applied a glamour to hide his phoenix aspects from Muggles.

Dumbledore agreed to advise the Aurors, and the Minister himself, immediately, that Harry Potter was safe once more, thanks to Lucius Malfoy who, like him, had been imprisoned by the Death Eaters who had penetrated the Ministry's security. He seemed to like the idea of waking Cornelius Fudge to share such news, half pleasing, half unpalatable. Without prompting he offered to ensure that Lucius would be given every assistance, and to encourage the Ministry of Magic to accept that he was now an ally.

He also handed Harry's wand through the fire to him, after expressing his pleasure at his student's safety.

Afterwards Lucius grumbled vengefully, "I swear the old man wasn't surprised. If I thought he'd planned for this outcome..."

"Forget it, Lucius," Harry advised, grinning tiredly. "It's a waste of time trying to avoid being planned at by Professor Dumbledore - live with it, the way I have to."

"Not for ever," said Lucius darkly.

After a moment Harry nodded. "Not for ever, if he cannot compromise with you," he assented.

Draco and Hermione looked on, astonished but wisely silent.

Lucius said to Draco, perfectly willing to shock little Miss Mudblood - Granger - as well as his son, "You will be seeing a lot more of Harry from now on. Including at Malfoy Manor."

Draco demanded suspiciously, "Why?"

"Because he's my lover."

Draco looked mortally offended.

"Because I have left Voldemort, thanks to the way he distrusted us" - sliding past their own contributions - "and I will not bind myself to Dumbledore. Not for ever; not for long."

Draco showed intelligence and forgot about offence. "Which leaves Harry as a potential third power - if he is willing to be in the middle."

Harry shrugged. "I'm there any way. I'll take what support I can get."

Draco asked, "From Slytherins?" There was no malice in the query, however.

Harry said to Draco, "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

Draco gaped. Lucius whipped round and hissed an imperative question.

Harry blandly added, "Only I begged and prayed it not to, told it I'd rather be anywhere else, so it put me in Gryffindor, as I wanted."

Both were incredulous. Hermione had not known this; Harry had always regarded it as a shameful secret, but she grinned to see the Malfoys so taken aback.

Lucius demanded, "Why?"

Draco said wryly, "You'd met me, hadn't you. And I said everything I possibly could to put you off, didn't I."

Lucius glared. "When I bade you -"

Draco excused himself hurriedly. "I tried, Father! Even before I knew who he was, I liked the look of him... But I was an ignorant, arrogant little prick reciting received opinion about everything from pure blood on down..."

He halted discreetly.

Lucius commented grimly, "My opinion."

Draco lowered his eyes demurely, while Harry murmured, "I'm working on it."

Lucius snarled but looked resigned.

After a short silence he speculated, "And how different would the world be now, if you had been a Slytherin?"

Draco and Lucius exchanged glances. Harry looked blander than ever.

Lucius sighed. "I cannot blame you, Draco. I did this to us, didn't I. I can see I should have paid better attention to your education."

Draco looked horrified and Harry said firmly, "Off the point, Lucius."

Draco said slowly, "If you are a Slytherin," - Harry politely did not reject this assumption with violence - "we could work together, couldn't we."

Lucius opened his mouth then shut it. He was confident he could come to an accommodation with his lover, whom he now knew for an eminently practical person, potential Slytherin or not; it was more important just now that his son be able to do so.

They would probably have a very long time to learn to cope with Harry's phoenix qualities beyond the physical.

Lucius was already wondering, 'Hereditary guardian of the phoenix child?'

Eventually Harry's human body would age, just as that of the phoenix did, and then perhaps he would call the fire voluntarily. If it renewed him, he might become a youth again - or he might become a baby, just as Fawkes became a chick. While Fawkes matured rapidly, humans took longer to grow to adulthood than birds did. Harry would need protection during that vulnerable time, whether it was long or short. What could the Malfoy family do, with its own phoenix?

Such a pity, Lucius thought ruefully but resignedly, that the phoenix was more Gryffindor than Slytherin.

~~HP~~LM~~

Late the next day Lucius watched three heads close together over the parchment Draco was writing on, the black and the brown either side of the flaxen. They were studying the intricate little sigils Draco was drawing as he explicated what he understood of Dealing with the Dark in the only way it allowed: talking about the principles they encapsulated.

Neither Harry nor Hermione seemed to flinch from physical closeness to his son, and Lucius reflected that Miss Granger could be useful. She calmed and supported Harry, and she seemed to be able to ground Draco (something that certainly had not always been true). She had helped him after he was left alone at the Ministry, and used her knowledge of Severus Snape as well as his to try to find them. If Lucius welcomed her, into his house, perhaps even into his family, it would confirm to Harry that he was prepared to be reasonable about his feelings for the Muggle-born. What was another Gryffindor when he hoped to have one for ever?

Harry looked up at Lucius's benign smile and shook his head. "Wipe that expression off your face, Lucius," he suggested, "it doesn't suit you. We don't need another Dumbledore."

~~ The End ~~