Ch. 4 The Council and Old Friends

The next morning, Draco woke before his host came in to wake him. He couldn’t hear anyone else stirring, and he smiled. He was by nature a morning person; the fact that he was awake on his own seemed to him to be a sign he was starting to recover from the ravages Azkaban had wreaked on his mind and body. He considered ringing the bell his host had given him, simply for the pleasure of waking Harry Potter up, but he decided to stay on the other boy’s good side. He would have just the day before, but he was quickly learning that the Gryffindor could and would punish him for what Harry considered poor behaviour.

Reluctantly, after a few minutes spent revelling in the soft bed, he got up and took a shower, blissfully enjoying the hot water and the sensation of being clean. He considered trying to wash his smock but decided that a humiliating wet smock was worse than a humiliating dirty one.

Left with nothing better to do, he went back into his room and began practicing with the beginner’s wand, amazed that the wards would let him do magic at all. He could only use the simplest of first-year charms, but it was better than nothing.

Eventually, he looked up to see his host just inside his doorway, carrying a package. “Good morning,” Draco offered, setting the wand down and blushing slightly.

“Good morning. You did well yesterday; this is for you.” Harry tossed the package to the blonde. “Open it.” He headed off into the rest of the flat, leaving his charge to stare after him.

Draco opened the package cautiously and found sky blue fabric so bright it almost blinded him. He unfolded it and found two full outfits: trousers, underwear, and button up shirts. He stared at them in surprise. “Most prison jumpers are orange,” he muttered, trying to put things back in perspective.

The clothes were well made and high quality, he noticed as he dressed. They were also made to fit his emaciated frame, which meant more would have to be bought when he regained the weight he’d lost in Azkaban. Even if it was his own money that had paid for them, some amount of care had gone into choosing them, and they weren’t the cheapest on the market by a long-shot.

As he walked to his doorway, he noted that it felt strange to be wearing real clothes again. A long time without anything rubbing against his skin had left it sensitive enough that even the soft material was almost painful.

“Bring that smock of yours and come on,” Harry called.

The blonde obeyed uncomfortably, unsure of what his host wanted, with the smock wadded up in his hands.

Harry was standing in front of a roaring fire in the living room fireplace. “So, do you like the new clothes? Do they fit all right?”

“Yes.”

“A thank you would be appropriate, Draco, but I’ll overlook it. Don’t you think it’s about time we got rid of the smock?”

“Well, yes. . .” He caught the other’s smirk. “What are you plotting?”

“Well, I thought we could make something of a ceremony with it. This is a rather symbolic moment. As for the smock, I thought burning was appropriate. Throw it on the fire.”

Draco complied, starting to grin. “I always thought Slytherins were the ones with a talent and a taste for drama.”

“Good thing I was almost a Slytherin, then, isn’t it?” He paused and went to stand in front of the fireplace melodramatically, trying to compose his face into a proper expression of grief. “It was a good smock, and we shall miss it dearly. It held together for four months, but unfortunately, I can’t think of anything else good to say about it. Still, I’m sure we’ll miss it.” He bowed his head to hide his grin.

“I can do better than that.” Draco took a moment and changed his voice, making it high-pitched and slightly querulous.

“We bid farewell to the poor, departed smock. It has served its purpose well. It allowed our dear Harry Potter to look his fill without seeming like he was. . . .”

“Hey!”

“It served me as clothes for four long months. . .”

Laughter cut him off. He feigned being offended, and then laughed himself.

“Well, since we’re going to a Council meeting after breakfast, I figured we should start the day off with something fun. If nothing comes up, and Council doesn’t run over, I’ll take you shopping in Hogsmeade so you can choose your own clothing, within reason.”

At that point, Sirius came out of his room, looking like a storm cloud, and began making breakfast.

“Sirius,” Harry said ironically, “is not a morning person.”

“Speaking of mornings, while we’re out this afternoon, can we get some books for me to read or something when I’m in my room? Playing with that wand is all very well, but the only things it will do are charms I’ve known for years.”

“We can get something when we go shopping this afternoon, then.”

Breakfast was a quick, silent affair. Finally, all three of them gathered around the fireplace. Sirius went through first, leaving the two boys to follow.

Harry slipped his feet into a comfortable pair of red sandals and offered Draco a matching pair in sky blue.

The blond looked at the shoes and shook his head. “I think I’d rather be barefoot for a while longer,” he said, scuffing a foot in the carpet.

“All right. You have to come with me, because you aren’t a Council member. I know you don’t want to hold onto me, but it’s necessary.”

“Why are you even taking me?” Draco snapped, angry at the condescension.

Stung, Harry stepped back. “I thought you might be interested. You’ve been asking me about the Council, about our world now. Besides, it’s plain as day your room makes you feel claustrophobic, and that’s where you’d have to stay if you were here alone. But if you’d rather not go, it can be arranged.”

“No, I’d rather see the meeting. It just doesn’t seem like you’d trust me enough for this! I thought you were making me earn things now, without giving me opportunities to earn them,” he jibed.

“This is an opportunity to show me you can behave now, Draco. Are you going to tell anyone?” Harry asked, echoing the previous day’s question.

“No.”

“Good. I think it’s important that you see the way our side handles things, rather than the Dark Lord’s method of punishing everyone who displeases him. Shall we go?”

Draco grabbed Harry’s arm reluctantly, and tossing down the Floo powder, they stepped into the fire.

“Chamber of the Council!” Harry shouted.

They came out in darkness. “Identities?” a voice snapped.

“Harry Potter, with my charge, Draco Malfoy.”

They appeared in a room with no doors or windows, lit by magic. There was a round table with ten comfortable chairs around it. As they appeared, a stool dropped into place between Dumbledore’s chair and an empty one.

“You’re forbidden to speak here, Draco,” Harry murmured. “If you say a word, make a sound, you’ll have a Voiceless charm slapped on you before you can blink. If you want to say something to me, you’ll have to write it. You’ll have a quill and parchment. I meant to explain this before we left, but I forgot. It’s a good thing you didn’t say anything when we came through. I’m sorry.”

Draco nodded, an eyebrow arched in question.

“You aren’t a Council member,” Harry explained. “You aren’t allowed to disturb or influence anyone’s opinions but mine, since I brought you and you are my charge. You’re here to watch and learn, not participate. We aren’t doing anything important this meeting, really. Mostly, it’s to talk about you.” He led the way over to the chair with the stool beside it and sat down.

The blond took the stool after a moment’s hesitation and a quick gesture from his host, shifting awkwardly on the wooden seat. He kicked his bare feet to settle himself more comfortably. Resting his elbows on the table, he watched as the rest of the chairs were filled. Sirius Black was there, as were Arthur and Percy Weasley, Severus Snape, Lee Jordan looking very nervous, and three men Draco didn’t recognize. The last man to arrive, one of the men he didn’t know, wearing the chain of office of the Minister of Magic, took one look at him and demanded, “What is he doing here?”

“He’s here with me,” Harry said calmly. “You may not dictate how I choose to deal with him.”

“Was it wise to bring him to a Council meeting held solely to discuss him?” Arthur asked.

“He has a right to hear what we say. I’d just tell him later, anyway. He’ll be coming to every Council meeting I attend until he’s no longer my charge. You can just ignore him if his presence offends you so much.”

“The Malfoys have always been good at being hard to ignore,” Percy muttered, not quite quiet enough to be ignored.

“He will not bother you. He will sit beside me in silence and behave himself. Don’t we have more important things to discuss than his presence here?” He ignored the humiliated boy’s elbow when it dug into him. Draco could be placated later. Instead, he focused his eyes on the Headmaster, a calm point in the volatile room.

Dumbledore continued to smile, eyes twinkling, as Harry defended his choice of the Death Eater children to try to reform.

The boy wouldn’t explain his plans, the old man noted. Albus knew that that was probably a good decision on Harry’s part. Dumbledore knew, though the boy had never told him, that Harry had never intended to take in anyone but Draco Malfoy. His attention was brought back to the conversation at hand abruptly a Harry’s voice was raised in anger.

“Yes, I gave him a beginner’s wand! What is he going to do with that? Levitate parchment into giving me a paper cut? Blind me with a weak lumos? Or, Merlin forbid, shoot coloured sparks at me?”

Draco blushed and grabbed parchment, ink, and quill. -Oh, thanks, Potter. Can you be any more patronizing?-

“Deal with it, Draco. It’s the truth, and you know it. You were practicing this morning. You know perfectly well what that wand will do.”

Sirius looked up, startled. He had been staying out of the discussion, but now he asked, “Harry, I thought you warded his room so you were the only one who could spell-cast in there?”

“He had permission. I can’t spend every second with him. It gave him something to do.”

“So you let a convicted Death Eater have a wand and spell-cast with it unsupervised?” Percy demanded.

Draco tensed, worried that the Council would try to take even that small bit of freedom away from him, not to mention furious at the insult from a Weasley of all people, but Harry answered before he could do anything.

“This Council gave me Draco’s custody. He’s my charge. We agreed that no one would interfere, not even this Council. Do not question me. The only one of you I allow that right is Albus, and if you’ll notice, he isn’t.”

“Fine,” Croaker said at last. “What restrictions have you placed on him?”

“His room is warded so that he cannot leave it without my permission. He is forbidden to close the doors into the rest of the flat. I still have the manacles from Azkaban, if they become necessary, but I hope that they won’t.” He looked reassuringly at the Slytherin, whose face was red with shame.

The Minister, on the other hand, looked more relaxed. “What should we tell the press?”

“Tell them that there were enough lives lost in the war, we’re trying to rehabilitate the younger Death Eaters. Tell them I’ve taken in Draco Malfoy and am acting as a replacement parent and trying to re-raise him as a test case. Keep the Council’s involvement out. There isn’t supposed to be any confirmation that we even exist.”

Dumbledore stood slowly, his age and the price the war had wrought in him clear. “That, I think, concludes our business today. We can re-convene in one week.”

The Council members walked over to the wall where they had first appeared and then disappeared back to where they had come from. Harry, Draco, and Dumbledore waited.

The Headmaster turned to the two boys when everyone else was gone, smiling. “Are the two of you managing?” he asked.

Draco began to answer, but a nudge from his host stopped him before a sound could leave his mouth.

“We’re still in the Council room,” Harry said quietly. “The room recognizes the ten of us. No one else is allowed to speak in here. I told you that.” He turned back to Dumbledore. “Draco’s doing well. He’s settling in, learning the rules. Hopefully, he’s learning to watch what he says, too. He calls me Harry, most of the time. I call him Draco. We get along.”

“And you, Draco? Are you adapting to being Harry’s charge?”

The blond shrugged, looking awkward. Finally, he nodded reluctantly, blood burning in his cheeks.

“Is he treating you well?”

Draco started to deny it, and then thought about his treatment. He nodded.

“All right, then. I’ll let you two go. Harry, I’ll make sure Minerva sends the documents you need to re-enrol Draco in Hogwarts.”

“Be well, Albus. I appreciate the help.”

“Thank you. I will see both of you at the next meeting.”

The two boys left, reappearing in Harry’s living room. Draco asked, “Are you really going to take me to every meeting?”

“For as long as you’re interested, if you don’t really make me angry.”

“I don’t like having to sit there silently, but it’s interesting. It’s probably more interesting when the topic isn’t me.”

“I’m sorry if we embarrassed you, talking over your head like that. Still, they can’t interfere with how I raise you.”

“I wish you’d stop it with the surrogate parent shite.”

“I’ll try not to patronize you, but I am re-raising you. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Lovely. I’m the ‘child’ of someone six months my junior.”

Harry studied his charge and smiled. “You’ll survive. I’ll go get things for lunch. Will you set up the chessboard?”

The blond sighed and nodded. “After lunch, you’ll take me shopping?”

“Yes. After lunch and a game of chess, I promise I will take you shopping.”

“Where’s Black?”

“Call him Sirius, and he probably went up to Hogwarts to see Remus.”

Harry went into the kitchen, smiling. He could hear the Slytherin setting up the chess game while he began to make sandwiches. A couple of moments later, Draco appeared in the door to the kitchen.

“You’re letting me wander around your flat unrestricted and unsupervised,” the blond noted cautiously.

“Why shouldn’t I? We’re the only ones here, and the flat, like your room, has wards to keep you from leaving. You’ve been doing very well. There’s no harm in giving you a bit of freedom.” He handed Draco two plates of sandwiches. “Take these out, please?”

The Slytherin stiffened, but he obeyed without comment when he saw the calculating expression on his host’s face.

“Well done, Draco,” Harry commented when he came in a moment later with drinks. “I expected you to balk or at least make a smart remark.”

“I had no intention of ending up serving the meals here for the rest of the summer,” was the cross retort. “I figured that’s what you’d make me do if I let on I thought I was too good to do something like this.”

“What makes you think I won’t when you’re admitting it now?”

“You’ve already praised me. Besides, if I were too good for such work, wouldn’t it imply I’m too good to be sent to Azkaban and left to die there?”

Harry smiled. “Good. Let’s eat.”

They had finished eating and were starting their chess game when the alarm on the Floo went off. “That’ll be Sirius,”

Harry said quietly. “I hope nothing’s wrong. He’s early.”

Draco shrugged. “Pawns don’t move like that, Harry, pay attention.”

Harry looked at the board. “Pity. I was about to have you in check.”

“With a pawn? I think you need. . .” He was cut off as a girl tumbled out of the fireplace.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, startled. He made shooing gestures at Draco, trying to send the Slytherin back to his room, but it was too late.

“Hello, Harry—Malfoy?” the girl demanded, seeing the blond as he tried to slip away.

“You might as well stay, Draco. Mind yourself, though.”

Draco nodded and returned to his seat. “Hello, Granger.”

“Hermione,” his host corrected.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything, merely arching a sarcastic eyebrow at the speechless girl.

Hermione looked from the grey eyes to green and back again. “Harry, please tell me what’s going on.”

At that moment, Ron followed his girlfriend out of the fireplace. “Hey, Harry,” he started, but went abruptly silent for a short moment when he saw who else was there. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Azkaban, you stupid ferret?”

“No, I’m not,” was the snide reply, accompanied by the trade-marked sneer.

“Draco!” Harry warned. “Watch yourself.”

“So you want me just to sit here and be insulted?”

“You’ve earned every word from them, but you can go to your room if you prefer.” Green eyes said it wasn’t a choice.

Furious and humiliated at being sent to his room like a child, the Slytherin obeyed.

Fiddling with his wand for a moment, Harry returned his attention to his friends. “Why don’t the two of you sit down? This might take a while. Yes, that was Draco Malfoy. He’s living here, due to complicated reasons.”

“Explain,” Ron said tightly, only his girlfriend’s hand on his knee and the patience the war had forced him to learn keeping him from exploding.

“All right. First off, Draco was a Death Eater. He surrendered to me. Ron, don’t you dare taunt him about it. He was sent to Azkaban to be given the Kiss when he should have had a mitigated sentence. He hadn’t killed anyone, and he never even tried to fight me. There are several Death Eaters that survived who should still be in school, like Draco.”

“Stop calling him that! He’s bloody Malfoy!”

Harry ignored the interruption. “Some genius apparently decided that a lot of what they did was because of how they were raised. So they may be given second chance, placed with powerful Light families. Draco is the test case, and he’s staying with me. I’m re-raising him, essentially.”

“Why don’t you just use an age-regression potion and start from scratch?”

“The point is not to destroy who they are, Hermione. Draco and I are managing. We get along, for the most part.”

The conversation had given Ron time to think things over and calm down, something the war had forced him to learn how to do. He said finally, “Look, Harry, if you get in over your head, we’ll help.” He was visibly anticipating seeing his enemy humiliated. “You shouldn’t have to deal with ferret-boy on your own.”

Hermione seconded the offer.

“All right. Thanks. But both of you will have to start calling him Draco. Will you wait here a moment?”

At his friends’ affirmatives, he disappeared into the Slytherin’s room. “Draco?”

The blond was seated in an armchair and refused to look up.

“I know you heard. What’s said in here can’t be heard out there right now, since I put up a silencing charm when you came in here, but you could hear us just fine.”

“So, if you’re my surrogate parent, what does that make them?” he asked bitterly, eyes still firmly focused on the floor.

“You could consider them an aunt and uncle,” Harry snapped. “I know I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. That didn’t keep you from doing it! Why?”

“You’re still weak as a kitten from prison, and you know it, and regardless, you need to learn to respect people who aren’t rich purebloods. I didn’t want you fighting.”

“You sent me to my room like a little child!”

“Yes. To avoid an argument. I can’t let you fight with people, Draco. I also didn’t want to have to punish you if you did get in a fight or an argument. I don’t like to treat you this way.”

“So your friend can be as rude to me as he wants, and you send me to my room. You sent me out even though you admit you knew it was humiliating!”

“So I avoided an even more difficult situation and embarrassed you. Would you have preferred me to leave you to do something I’d have to punish?”

“Sending me to my room in front of them was punishment!”

“That wasn’t intended as punishment. Ron and Hermione think you left because you wanted to. Please come out and be civil for a few minutes. I won’t push you this time, I know you don’t like them, but I’d appreciate it.”

“Wrong word, Potter. I hate them.”

“I know, Draco. I won’t push you today.”

Draco sighed and stood. “My pride’s in shreds anyway,” he muttered. “Lead the way. I can’t leave this room without your permission, if you’ll recall.”

“You know why, Draco. It’s not like I leave you in here or send you here often.”

They walked back into the main room quietly, Draco fighting to keep a rein on his tongue. “Ron, Hermione,” he said finally, quietly, nodding to each of them.

“Draco,” Hermione answered coolly. Ron just narrowed his eyes slightly and stayed silent.

Harry sighed. “Not that I don’t appreciate your visit, but perhaps now isn’t the best time. Did you have something specific to tell me?”

The girl blinked. “Oh, yes. We had a fireplace at our summerhouse connected to the Floo network, so the three of us can visit more easily.” She stood. “Ron, we’d better go.”

The redhead nodded. “See you soon, Harry.” He stepped into the fireplace.

“Next time, we’ll call first, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Wait a moment. I need a favour, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“What is it?”

Harry gestured to his charge. “Draco’s going back to Hogwarts with us, but he’s missed several months and the OWLs. I need him to be able to take those before the end of the summer. I can teach him most things, but I’m crap at History of Magic and most of Herbology. Those subjects weren’t considered important for me to cram in last year before the war.”

“What about Arithmancy?”

Harry glanced at the Slytherin, seeing wide grey eyes in a pale face. “You can help me teach him Muggle studies, since he’ll be taking that, probably instead, but I think I have it under control.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll do it. I doubt you’re ready now. Owl me when.”

“Thanks, Granger,” Draco said, to the complete surprise of the Gryffindors.

“You’re welcome,” Hermione answered automatically. She left the way she had come, and the Slytherin collapsed back on the couch, exhausted.

“I think,” Harry said gently, “that we’ll stay home this afternoon. You’re exhausted. I know I promised, but I don’t think it would be the best idea. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, I guess. You’ll take me tomorrow?”

“I will. Try to get some sleep.” He guided Draco back to the blonde’s room, ignoring the Slytherin’s token protests.

“I’m not tired!”

“You sound like a child saying that, Draco. Isn’t that how they act? Begging for a few more minutes up?”

“I’m not a child!”

“I didn’t say you were, Draco. Not in this instance, at any rate. You’re just tired. Here, lie down.” He turned out the lights and put some more wood on the fire, though the fireplace was charmed to take care of itself.

“Thanks, Harry,” Draco said softly, just before his host left the room. “I didn’t know what you were going to do about my schooling. Although I’m not sure I like being taught by a mud-Muggle-born.”

Green eyes narrowed. “I’ll let that pass, since you’re clearly exhausted. Don’t get used to it.” He left before he could lose his temper.

“Shite,” the blond muttered. “I put my foot in it again. I’m never going to survive this.”

Harry watched from outside the doorway, unnoticed, as his charge went to bed, still dressed in the sky blue clothes he had been given. The other boy’s words were reassuring, the regret telling him that the blonde was starting to make progress. Finally, the Gryffindor walked back out to the kitchen to make some calls on the phone he had insisted they have.

Halfway through, Sirius returned and started dinner. Harry finished his calls just in time to be sent to fetch the Slytherin for dinner.

He shook the blonde gently until grey eyes opened just enough to glare at him. “Changed your mind about punishing me?”

“No, it’s only time for supper. If you don’t eat, you’ll never get your strength back. Do you really want still to be taking naps like a child—a child you refuse to be—when we go back to school? If I have to, I’ll rearrange your schedule to allow for it, but I’d think you’d be embarrassed at having a nap-time, knowing your pride.”

“What I need is to get out of your flat. Sun and fresh air would do me a world of good.” He got up, pushing his hair out of his face.

“I’ll start taking you out, but you have to listen when I say you’ve done enough.”

“Not like I have a choice.” His stomach growled, and he went pink.

“Come on. Let’s go eat. We can argue more tomorrow,” the Gryffindor teased gently.

They went out to the dining room. That night, Harry took the foot of the table, his charge beside him.

Draco noted with bitter amusement that he was still being deprived of a knife. His Death Eater status coming back to bite him again. He ate everything on his plate except the steak, wanting to make a smart remark but knowing Harry well enough at that point to realize he’d be punished.

The Gryffindor boy, with his usual tact, asked,” Draco, why didn’t you eat your steak? It’s very good.”

The blonde blushed and snapped the first thing that came to mind, “I don’t eat meat. I disapprove of killing.

“You’ve been eating meat since you got here, and you were a Death Eater. Killing is part of the package.”

Sirius snorted and put in, “I didn’t give him a knife, Harry. He can’t cut it.”

“Oh.” He turned to Draco. “So you lied to me. Why didn’t you just ask? I’m not punishing you in some obscure way. I just didn’t think.” He leaned over and carefully cut the taller boy’s steak. “What did you think I meant by it?”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s punishment for not liking your friends. Maybe a hint that you’d rather I ate from a tray in my room. Maybe that you just don’t trust me enough! You’ve certainly made that perfectly clear.”

Harry made a face. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to like my friends, though I will ask you to be civil to them. I let you eat with us because it lets you out of your room, which makes you claustrophobic, and makes a good time to talk. I can’t always spend every minute with you, so those things may become more important. I told you when you came here that you wouldn’t have access to anything that could be construed as a weapon, so no, I won’t give you a knife yet. I think it’s a reasonable constraint, and besides, it makes Sirius happy. It isn’t all about you. Eat, please.”

The Slytherin obeyed silently, regaining his composure. Finally, he asked, “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“That would be the last day you get to settle in here. After that, we start working. I figured we’d do what you wanted, within reason.”

“Spend as little time in the flat as possible?” Draco asked hopefully.

“We can even pack a picnic lunch, but you’ll have to stay with me, especially since the papers will be coming out with your presence here tomorrow.”

“I don’t care if you put me on a bloody leash, as long as I can get outside. Just don’t let anyone else see it.”

Harry shrugged, not commenting. “So if we’re going to enjoy tomorrow, you ought to get to bed. I suggest you look under your pillow.

Draco’s pleased reaction to the sky-blue silk pyjamas was all Harry could have hoped for. Then the blonde noticed him just outside the doorway. “Thanks, Harry.”

The Gryffindor smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome. Sleep well, Draco.”