As Pure As Snow

9

There is much to sense in the earth beneath the flattened snow, and every winter I increasingly feel some bleak calling, like a stray that longs to return.

I am the sun; above the earth I own it all, am owed it all. Yet the grounded snow and slumbering earth feel so much safer that I end up feeling vaguely deprived.

The height from which one looks down can sometimes be dismally far. Nobody ever tells you that elevated into the sky, the only thing that surrounds you is a periphery of emptiness, the smothering fog and silent clouds.

10

Naturally, Harry could not resist recounting the incident of the day to Armand over dinner.

Armand rolled his eyes. "Serves Lucius right for naming his son after a bloody animal, for crying out loud--"

"You should talk. It's also a Russian name."

"What, does your new job extend to protecting the honor of badly given names now?"

"You know Draco and I have no lost love between us. Yet I'm just... impressed, despite myself. In all my years living with and watching those two albino tigers circle each other, I don't believe I've ever seen the cub throw down such a gauntlet."

"Ah, but the question is; will the cub win?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows these things? I think Lucius might just let him, or at least let him think so. Merlin knows he could use the confidence."

His Russian friend chucked darkly. "Quite the family man, your good Minister."

A snort. "If you like them like sharks. He had his wife put to death, you know."

Armand shrugged. "Wrong family."

Harry considered this. "True."

"What a waste of beauty," Armand mourned. "He could have just kept the body around for...other...purposes."

"Only wretched Russian hyenas like yourself would think of something so vile. But you could always take it up with the son. I've heard some people call him pretty. Might even conveniently kick the bucket before he becomes boring in bed."

"Why, are you planning to keep the father for yourself?" Armand's face was sly.

Silence. Then Harry said coolly, "I'm not sure if I get your meaning."

"Oh, come on."

"See that statue of Godric with his sword? That's where they impaled the Head Auror for snide and asinine remarks which he had no business making."

"By 'they' you're refering to yourself, right?"

Harry held up his hands with a sigh. "This is the problem with people who know you too well."

The Russian man laughed, then lowered his voice so rapidly that it was barely audible above the rustle of curtains. "Between old friends, I'd say you've gotten rather attached to your foster family of late, Harry."

It wasn't concern in Armand's voice, Harry decided, so much as a candid admission that he intended take advantage of Harry's newfound affections, and liked Harry enough to tell him in advance. "Well, I must make myself useful. Especially since the assassin part's begun to look more and more redundant of late. Wouldn't want the old man to think I'm dispensable now, would I?"

"You look well taken care of." Armand's gaze traveled over his exorbitant attire. "It's a partnership that's worked out well for both sides."

Harry leaned back, toying with the stem of his glass. "I can't complain about the way Lucius treats me, but I'd be a fool to call it a partnership. The master is distracted with his ailing son, and has lately failed to rein in my leash. I'm still a slave with benefits; that's all I'll ever be."

His friend snorted, and Harry smiled wryly as he continued, "Still, if one was to consider the alternatives- it's one farce for another, Armand. This one at least, is less of a travesty, and on occasion even graces me with a little honesty. But enough of the schmaltzy; tell me, how is your father?"

"He's doing well. He's just been made Grand Marshal of the Royal Court, so his ego is further away from the ground than ever."

"Is he still having trouble with the Polish insurgency?"

"Don't even go there. Does it ever end?"

Harry's eyes gleamed. "I'll be happy to put paid to the ringleaders for him."

"Oh, Daddy would love to owe you more debts. I already hear no end of it as it is, so please, do me the favor of not doing him any more favors."

"Oh, I don't know. It'd be nice to get in a holiday, rack up a few more bills for Lucius to complain about."

"Aren't you supposed to be retired?" Armand's snickered, and Harry's urbane expression crumbled at the reminder.

"All right, dammit. I'm sick to death of retirement. Hunting is my game, not juggling bloody parchments and firecalls."

"By all means then, be my guest, and kill as many Polish dogs as you like."

Harry speared a piece of meat on his knife. "What does your father want, old friend?"

Armand's dark eyes darted once around the empty dining room, alighting on his host's impassive face. The silence between them held, until Harry nodded and picked up his wand. "Reclusio. Talk."

The Russian raised one arched eyebrow. "You have an excuse for casting such a... secretive spell?"

Harry made an impatient noise. "I don't need one."

"Well. The continent is agog with rumors that Lucius has given you carte blanche to run London on his behalf, which you've just proven true--"

"And I've proven this how?"

The swarthy Russian sat back, crossing his arms. "When the scales of power start tipping any one way, you pay attention."

"Nothing is tipping. Besides, Draco is slated to be the next Minister. Provided he lives that long."

"So?"

Harry concentrated on carving up the contents of his plate. "You of all people should know that I harbor no ambitions on that front."

"More fool to you, old friend." A pause, and Armand shook his head in disbelief. "England on your plate, and you're about to scrap it into the bin like so much rubbish."

"I live in the same manor with the Minister of Magic, Armand. And believe you me, there is nothing particularly covetable about that position. Besides, what's it worth to you?"

"Wouldn't want to be accused of a lack of due diligence now, would I?" Armand's tone was mild. "Russia must be ready to respond to change, after all. And change is in the air, old friend, whether you wish it or not."

"You want to know which corner to throw your weight in, when the time comes," Harry confirmed. "The question is, what else do you want?"

"Are you asking me what I want? What my father wants? Or what Russia wants?"

"Ah. I see."

"Finite Incantatem. Think about it, Harry."

"I suppose I have no choice, do I?"

*

When Draco showed up at the meeting of the Security Council that he had not been invited to, supported by Harry's arm and a silver, dragon-headed cane, the hush that fell upon the assembly became a pin-drop silence. Dressed like his father, who was watching him from the pulpit with an inscrutable expression, Draco descended to his box, and cast a Sonorus charm.

"Does my illness make you uncomfortable, gentlemen? Do you feel so insecure of your own virility, so frightened of the inevitable failing of your bodies that the mere sight of another's infirmity embarrasses you?" His voice vibrated across the room like a violin string about to break.

"Good. Take a good look at this ailing body, then, and remember your reactions well." Draco's voice was strident and weirdly crazed. "Because, when the time of reckoning comes, I shall remember each and every one of you."

Harry's gaze sought out Lucius, who gave him an imperceptible nod whilst seeming to listen intently to Slughorn's murmuring. Then he took Draco's arm again, feeling the thrumming of an engine about to break, and Disapparated with a crack, a second before the indignant voices of the assemblymen resumed their clamouring.

*