As Pure As Snow

5

The first snowfall, seen in the early twilight of winter, is like a fine mix of powder and sparkle dust. The air is brisk and thin, suffusing even the most rebellious skin with colour, and the fairy mist feeds me with involuntary memories of a surreal and distant childhood, in which I used to wander round these very paths at all improper hours, hoping to catch glimpses of crystal halos.

All manners of magical apparatus I had possessed even then, and every imaginable creature of fantasy, yet it was this strangely mild natural phenomena that had captured my childish imagination. It was my secret pleasure, and, as I soon discovered to my everlasting disquiet, one shared by Muggles and magicians alike.

6

"Tell me the story again."

"Forget it," Harry grunted. "You hide your scrawny arse through the entire thing and expect to share in old war stories with the rest of us, you've got another thing coming."

"May I point out, Mister Potter-"

"Conveniently point out," jeered Harry.

"-that I didn't have a choice in the matter? And I'll bid you remember my arse is quite beautiful, thank you, as evident from the sheer numbers -in either gender- who have professed their lust. I'd have you know that there are entire volumes of sonnets out there written for my arse-"

"Merlin, stop assaulting my ears. You said you wanted to hear my exploits; I never wanted to hear yours."

Armand smirked and filled his companion's goblet. "So talk."

Harry glowered at him for a minute before settling back into his chair in broody reminisce.

"You already know during the war it was Lucius' men who found me at the Highfort, where Dumbledore had seen fit to lock his ultimate seventeen-year-old weapon until such a time when it was convenient to be unleashed on Voldemort."

Harry grimaced at the memory and took a long drink. "Fortunately for me at that time, Malfoy still had the impression of a hapless teenage wizard in his mind, and didn't pay much attention to the strength of the wards he kept me in. Needless to say, it was an easy escape compared to the type of cells that Dumbledore had put me in."

"But surely you weren't imprisoned by Du-"

"You think? Dumbledore said I'd changed, just before the war began. Said I was beginning to 'manifest Voldemort's darkness', whatever the fuck that meant, and he shouldn't have exposed me so; I remember some mumbled crap about it not being too late to salvage my soul, Merlin bless his hideously naïve and purple polka-dotted soul. After I escaped from Lucius, I went back and showed him exactly what I thought of being imprisoned for my own good."

Armand whistled. "Dumbledore?! By yourself?"

"Lucius... helped, by default. He and his men came hot on the heels of my escape, like the good soldiers they were. But one thing I always liked about the father, unlike the son, was that he was always ready to listen to reason. Once he realized it wasn't a trap, that is. After that, we both knew we could work together."

"He must have taken quite a shine to you, not to have handed you to Voldemort immediately after Dumbledore committed his final fashion faux-pas." There was something silky hidden in the echoes of Armand's amused tone that made Harry frown as he gazed distractedly into the past. "What happened next?"

"After razing Highfort to the ground, I was a little... at sea... with myself and the way things turned out, so I took to alternating between fits of massive rages and silent sulks. I killed a number of Lucius' men in the process too, until his lordship condescended to come down and talk to me himself." Harry smirked at the memory.

He resumed in a quieter voice, "Now that I think back upon it, he was being uncommonly kind, wasn't he? Probably some bizarre spin-off from his problems with Junior's illness, which I believe was just starting to manifest around that time."

"Do you think his son's illness had anything to do with his decision to turn against the Dark Lord?"

Harry shrugged, not caring. "Who knows? In all probability, the old man just got tired of obeying orders. He'd gotten what he wanted from Voldemort by then, and knew more than anyone else that Draco's welfare was never going to be a priority with Snake Eyes still lording it over everyone."

"Is that where you stepped in and obligingly reduced Snake Eyes to a pile of dusk? How gallant. How romantic. Did the two of you hold hands over the Dark Lord's remains and walk off into the sunset together?"

Harry laughed. "You big, wet shirt-lifting pansy. Nothing of that sort happened."

"Don't you dare spoil the big fable of our times for me, Potter. Countries have invaded for less reason," Armand huffed as Harry's eyes begin to narrow at him. "Fine. Tell me how you killed Voldemort then, at least."

"Snake Eyes was astoundingly easy to kill. The rest of the Death Eaters not loyal to Lucius... that was a whole new basket of fish."

The Russian man smiled at the deliberate avoidance of his question, and inclined his head in mock concession. "Some other day then, perhaps. Bellatrix, of course, was the first to go?"

Harry shuddered, nodding. "That woman had an insanity to rival Voldemort's. Powerful too- nothing seemed to kill her. I had to freeze her with a temporary wax spell before I set a torch to her- still my goriest yet. Effective though, because Lucius was present, and after that his suspicions noticeably thawed. I think at that time he was wondering what to do with me after Voldemort had become a wisp of air."

"Fantastic," Armand said, his dark eyes gleaming with bloodlust and greed. "Who'd you do in next?"

"Well, after that it got almost boring," Harry said. "Her brother came looking for me, obviously, hot on the heels of vengeance. He should have waited- made him careless. MacNair followed. The... Goyle family, when Golye senior was discovered to be leading a resistance. Lucius was deeply affected by his betrayal you know, and Draco, well, let's just say he couldn't talk to me without spitting blood for a long time after that. Things got busy for me for after that, chasing belligerents from both sides..." Harry gripped his goblet and gave a bark of laughter. "From both sides. Who'd have thought? Anyways, by the time I got round to surfacing, Lucius had cleaned London up nicely, and everything had stabilized. One can always tell a nation's relative stability from the size of the balls and galas held for wizarding ambassadors such as your rubbish self."

Armand stood up then, and lifted his goblet at Harry, the gold chalice glinting like a hovering lamp against his dark cloak. "To Harry Potter then. And his new wizarding order."

"You mean Malfoy's."

"Same thing."

*

Harry shut the study door quietly behind him and paused to admire his employer's long burnished hair snaking down the back of a rich brocade robe. Strangely introspective and slightly intoxicated, he wondered if perhaps there wasn't something in Lucius' motives- and perhaps his own- that he had missed all along.

A dry voice cut off his thoughts. "That's some late night rendezvous you had with Armand tonight, Harry."

"You're up late, Minister," Harry admonished. "Are you sure all this miserable paperwork isn't beyond some secretary's efforts?"

"Are you offering to take it off my hands, Mister Potter? Thinking of taking my place at the head of the wizarding world?"

"You can have the glory of it all, if all it does it chain you to a desk; I simply can't see myself shackled thus." Harry made a sign warding off evil.

"Some occupations, strange as the idea may seem to you, include the use of parchments and quills rather than daggers and blood, and doesn't preclude them as any less important than yours."

"You've become very comfortable with the former. When's the last time you attended to anything that doesn't involve paperwork?"

Lucius raised a brow. "I daresay the same would apply to you, in regards to the latter."

"And why would you want me any other way?" Harry grinned. "Unless you're grooming me to take over."

Lucius sharply inhaled. "Your audacity..." Despite his efforts, the barest hint of a smile curled the blond man's lips, and he shook his head.

"Well, I don't see why not. We both know that I do take after your fancy clothes exceedingly well." Harry pirouetted, mantels flying, and flourished with a mocking bow in front of the large desk.

The fair head considered Harry's new appearance at leisure, before dipping down into parchment again. "What did Kakaroff's son want?"

Harry hid his smile. "He insisted on wasting my time recounting war anecdotes."

"And naturally, your ego could not help itself."

"I did neigh but sing the praises of your good governance, my lord."

"I'm not sure if your good praises, such as they were, can justify the entertainment bills that I get drowned in every time your friends come calling." Lucius scowled.

"Russia is a good ally."

"We are not at war, Harry. With both Voldemort and Dumbledore gone, and their little toadies all but exterminated by your admittedly efficient methods, there's next to no threat left."

Harry snorted. "Dissenters are like bacteria. You can never wipe them out. Armand ensures there are no questions asked whenever I leave a mess."

"That is something we should talk about."

"I don't leave that much of a mess," Harry defended.

"Have I questioned your methods of late, crass as they may be? And have you not taken outrageous advantage of my liberal reign to run around like some thug, doing exactly as you please these last three years?"

"Doing exactly as you please, Minister."

"Perhaps a promotion, then, for services rendered."

Harry harrumphed. "I was thinking more in lines of a well-deserved vacation."

"And these few years have been what, exactly?"

"You tell me," Harry said, and they shared what might almost have been a smile.

"Draco has been doing very well. Something that I have you to thank for, I know."

Harry shrugged easily. "Less work for me, Minister."

"He doesn't seem to require the type of manhandling that he used to-" Lucius cleared his throat delicately, "-which, amongst other things, begets the question of what should now be done with you.'

"Well. You are giving me a promotion."

"In a manner of speaking," Lucius' voice was too innocent, and Harry's eyebrows shot through his dark fringe.

"Are you thinking of retiring me, Minister?" he demanded, tightly.

"Good heavens, no. I doubt you'll make my life that easy."

The dark-haired man's smile stretched from ear to ear. "Too right."

Lucius glared. "I need you to continue what keeping an eye on Draco for me. Focus his mind on something before he gets too restless. The post of Assistant Minister, for instance."

Harry kept his face carefully blank, and said nothing.

"Oh, out with it."

"Not to disparage the hopes of a father, but do you think that Draco is ready? For something of this... magnitude?"

"He is not," Lucius admitted, revealing a vulnerability of expression that made Harry suddenly aware that he was talking to the man who Lucius was, and not the politician. "He might never be, not by himself. But he might yet grow into the role, and this is a possibility that I need to assess."

"Hmmm," Harry allowed the slightest hint of commiseration to colour his voice. Then he grinned. "As to your current Deputy, I'm sure I can find ways to persuade him to seek an early retirement."

"Of course. But not with your customary weapons, I think," Lucius said, and the smirk dropped from Harry's lips as he watched his employer withdraw a small roll of parchment from his sleeve. "You will sheath your weapons, effective from tonight, and the language of bureaucracy will from now on be your double-edged sword."

Harry stared at the parchment held out to him as if it was poisonous. "Bloody hell," the dark-haired man whispered. "You are retiring me."

The Minister of Magic smirked. "Too right."

*