Passion

Despite the early hour, curses and complaints could be clearly heard echoing from the Headmaster's tower the next morning. Under the first voice, a second could be heard, snickering.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy. You don't have to climb them."

"My chair is jolting me, Potter! I'd rather climb."

"Well, if you wouldn't insist on hurrying ahead, the stairs would take you up."

"I want to know what the Headmaster has to say!"

Snape rolled his eyes as the two war-heroes dissolved once again into the bickering they were so famous for. The bickering that the older fighters, those who had fought in the first war, found amusing, but the younger fighters found completely inappropriate. Especially when their competition devolved into how much blood they could shed, how many wounds they took, and how many they caught alive. It was rumoured that the Death Eaters had their own name for the pair, as they'd always worked together, except in the final battle when Potter had had to fight alone, their competition making them perfect partners, but if it were true, Snape had never heard it. Of course, the Potions master hadn't been around for much of their fighting, so he really didn't know.

Finally, they entered the office, and even the brats were respectful around the Headmaster. The two who had had to walk took their seats, and Draco positioned his chair next to Harry. Both young men looked at the Headmaster expectantly.

"First off," Albus said gently, "I would like to thank you for going along with this. You've had a busy night."

"It's nothing," Draco said coolly.

"We didn't mind."

Snape sneered. It might not have been a long night for the brats, but it had been longer than he liked, and he was tired and less inclined to be charitable.

"Good, good," Dumbledore continued genially. "Nevertheless, it was an imposition." He looked at them both, old blue eyes twinkling. "Next, I would like to congratulate you both on the highest NEWTs scores that Hogwarts has seen. I asked you to come up here to discuss what you're going to do now. You clearly don't need to attend classes anymore. While there are probably lessons you don't know at all, you know enough that you could get any job you wanted. Well, you could, Harry. And I expect that's where the problem comes in for both of you."

"Yes," Draco said bitterly. "Who wants to hire me? I'm crippled."

"And it's both or neither of us now," Harry continued. "Malfoy and I make good partners. I won't take a job unless they hire him, too. I'd miss the competition."

"Even if they hired me, they wouldn't let me do anything. After all, I'm stuck in a chair. What use could I possibly be to anyone?"

Having successfully made their point, Harry continued, "What we'd really like is to be able to keep learning. The problem with that is that we don't want to specialise, so the normal apprentice system won't work. We want to learn everything we can."

"The fact that we passed our NEWTs half way through sixth year should prove that we can do what we want."

Dumbledore surveyed the two boys, noted the darkness in both their eyes and was saddened by it, but he also saw the way the two leaned into each other without even realising it, and he smiled. "You're both underage, and neither of you has a guardian any longer. If you had a guardian here at the school, you'd be able to stay here and attend any lessons you wished, but you wouldn't be students. You could also get more advanced lessons from the professors. I'm sure they'd be willing. That would give you ample opportunity to learn whatever you wish, since most of the teachers here are masters at their subjects, without boring you in ordinary lessons. It would also solve the other problem."

"Other problem, Headmaster?" Draco asked, amused. "You can go right out and say it, you know. I'm resigned to it, for the most part, and dancing around the subject isn't going to help. I'm paralysed and for the moment unemployable. They know I was Potter's partner through most of the war, but that was before I was injured. They don't realise I can be just as deadly in my chair. Someday, I'm sure they will."

"Of course, Draco. It would also make your paralysis easier for you, then."

Grey and green eyes locked for a moment. Snape was surprised to see a repeat of the scene from earlier in his classroom; one's acceptance depended entirely on the other, and vice versa. Finally, the blonde asked, "Who would be our guardian?"

The Potions Master, immediately sensing a potential reason for his presence in the office, woke up enough to protest. "Albus, I can't! I can't take care of two teenage boys!"

"Severus. . ."

"I have to teach enough of them as it is! And these two in particular! Do you have any idea how much trouble they'll be? Not to mention Draco's. . ."

"Severus!"

The Potions Master immediately closed his mouth with a glance at his star pupil. The Malfoy heir might say that he didn't care if others mentioned his paralysis, but Snape was positive that such an abrupt reference to it would still bother him. "Sorry, Draco," he muttered guiltily.

"Not a problem, Professor."

Albus looked sternly over his glasses at the dark eyed man. "Severus, if you had let me finish, your little tirade would not have been necessary. I am perfectly willing to take charge of both boys. The Ministry already practically considers me to be Harry's guardian. It will be no trouble to get that verified, and it will be little more to gain custody of Draco as well."

"An advantage of my paralysis," the blonde mused, seemingly impassive. "Most people," he glanced irritably at his Head of House, "don't want me because of it."

Dumbledore ignored the interruption. "Even without their own fortunes, neither of which is insubstantial, I am fully capable of supporting both of them. I will contact the Ministry this morning, as soon as we're finished here."

Snape nodded. "That will make this easier. Albus, I have a request."

"What is it?"

"I want Draco moved out of the Slytherin dorms. He isn't terribly popular there, and I don't think it's safe for him."

The blonde's head shot up, grey eyes narrowed. "I can take care of myself, whether or not I can walk!"

"Draco, please be reasonable. Besides, I heard you talking to Potter earlier about how much you're struggling to do just little things. You're a fool if you think your House-mates don't notice." He turned back to the Headmaster. "Would it be possible to give him a private room in the castle? I shouldn't think it would be difficult, considering they've already graduated and aren't students here any longer. Besides, Potter has one. If they're both going to be your charges, you'll need to treat them equally."

With a glance at his rival, Harry offered, "Malfoy could stay with me. My rooms are plenty big enough, and we spend enough time together as it is. I already know most of what his paralysis entails; I was the one to diagnose him."

The blonde nodded. "That's fine. It'll make studying together easier when we don't have to contend with separate Houses. Speaking of which, you didn't mention which of us did better on our NEWTs. Could you tell us, please?"

"You did equally well, averaged out. You, Draco, were slightly better at History of Magic, but Harry's Astronomy grade made up the difference. It was also quite clear that the work was too easy for you. The two of you need to be challenged. Harry, if you could show Draco to your rooms?"

"Professor, I do have one request," Harry said.

"What is it?"

"Don't tell the students. Don't let the other professors tell them either. Let them wonder what Malfoy and I are up to."

Draco grinned maliciously. "Yes, Professor, it'll be nice to leave them wondering for a while. Particularly if we start showing up entirely randomly for the classes. Which won't necessarily be our own. Personally, I'm headed for seventh year Transfiguration tomorrow."

"Malfoy! Transfiguration is easy! Can't we at least go somewhere more interesting?"

"Like where? And of course Transfiguration is easy for you, you unregistered Animagus." Draco considered that statement for a moment, and he turned back to the Headmaster. "Is there any point in my learning the Animagus transformation? It'd be pretty useless if I'm still paralysed, but if I'm not, it'd be really useful."

"You wouldn't be. Learning the transformation would be a good idea for you. Harry is probably the best person to help you with that."

"My point, Malfoy," Harry taunted easily.

Draco refused to rise to the bait, distracted by the promise he wanted but had yet to receive from the Headmaster. "Are you going to tell the students?"

Dumbledore looked at the two boys in innocent surprise. "Why, not if you don't want me to," he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to send an Owl to the Ministry. The two of you were up all night; I'd like you to stay in your rooms today. Get Draco settled, sleep if you wish, and if you insist on fighting or duelling, remember that you're both tired and be careful."

Exchanging sly expressions, the two smirked and chanted, in unison, "Yes, Uncle Albus." They left as fast as the Slytherin's chair could carry him, before any form of retaliation could be hit upon by the adults.

Harry's rooms were right down the hall from the entrance to Dumbledore's tower, and they were hidden similarly. They consisted of a small common room, a study, a library, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Draco's things had already arrived in the bedroom.

"Come on, Malfoy; I'll help you unpack."

"I can do it myself."

Harry turned, green eyes catching grey. "I know you can. It'll take longer if you do. I don't mind helping. Will you accept it?"

Draco hesitated, but he nodded finally. "Yes. Just so long as it's understood that I can do it for myself."

"You've gotten much touchier about that lately," the Gryffindor observed, leading the way into the bedroom.

"Of course I have. People have been trying to baby me. 'Oh, he's crippled, he can't do anything for himself, poor, poor Malfoy.' I have had to prove, time and time again, that I am fully capable of taking care of myself."

"Please reassure yourself that I've never doubted it. Maybe not as well as I can, but better than anyone else in this school." He opened Draco's trunk and grimaced at the school uniforms. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "we don't have to wear these any longer."

"They aren't practical or comfortable," Draco agreed, seeing where this line of reasoning was going. "But we only have one other type of clothing, really." He looked at his rival, blonde eyebrows raised, smirking slightly.

"But that clothing is so much more comfortable. . ."

"And it would be such waste if they went to waste. . ."

"So, Malfoy, do you think Hogwarts can survive the Chaos Reepers?"

Trying unsuccessfully to suppress his smirk, the Slytherin mock-gasped. "The famed Voldemort fighters? The two warriors who always wore masks? Who cause more havoc than us? Who always knew where the battle was when they were needed?" He punched Harry on the arm. "They already have to survive us, Potter. We might as well give them some warning of whom they are dealing with now."

"Will Dumbledore allow it?"

"I don't see why not. Even if he doesn't, since when do we care? We invented those alter-egos so we could fight when we weren't allowed to, if you'll recall. I swear, you Gryffindors seriously need memory help. Maybe it's just your natural stupidity."

"Your point," Harry admitted, making a face. He quickly grinned again. "Oh, the looks on their faces are going to be priceless," he laughed, pulling Draco's war uniforms from the trunk.

The two rivals spent the rest of the day planning their entrance at dinner that night, delighted at the thought of the school's reaction.