Blaise relaxed considerably in Narcissa's company as they greeted each other like old friends. He was finding it all a bit strange. Draco talked back in June about seeing Potter again after the war... and he had talked a lot. But Dray had always talked about Potter a lot. But this! And damn if Dray hadn't gone and slipped it into the conversation, all casual like, that he was soulmates with Potter and they'd bonded. And he'd thought Dray was as straight as an Escher staircase but he supposed that was all living up to Lucius's bloody ideals. He'd have to get the full story later.
And then there was Harry bloody Potter himself. Lord Potter, by all accounts, living in a fucking castle in the middle of somewhere, location undisclosed. Only he wasn't behaving like a lord any more than he'd behaved like the Chosen One at school. Sure, Dray and Pansy used to go on about his exploits and accuse him of riding his reputation but Blaise, well, Blaise liked to observe and he saw. He saw Potter didn't like the fame and the attention and everything that was thrown at him. Blaise knew he should have done more, said more, perhaps even defended Potter, but it was difficult for a half-blood in Slytherin House to speak up so it was easier to keep his head down. Just survive, as Potter put it. And by the time seventh year came around, well, all he could do is be there for Dray and watch his own back. Especially with those nutters, the Carrows, practically running a torture shit-show.
Then Dray, after the war, disappeared in on himself and threw himself into studying but both of them stayed in contact because now they knew they could be friends. And suddenly, at a time when he desperately needed it because money was running low and he'd be damned if he was going to go crawling to his mother for her support, up Dray pops with a lifeline.
And so, he found himself in a huge drawing room in the west wing of Potter's confusingly large castle, only Potter insisted on calling it a Hall. The room was really quite beautiful once you saw beyond the odd bits of furniture that were stacked up and the boxes. There were two huge ornate fireplaces and waist-high panelling and the rest was covered in damned great big green family tree tapestry along every wall which framed the windows and a large opening which led into what was clearly a room set within the base of a turret. Potter had loads of bloody turrets! It was a fucking castle!
He found himself staring at the tapestry, it went back to the tenth-century, of all things, according to Narcissa. And to think they used to rib Potter for his diluted and muddied blood status. His family was one of the oldest in existence. It went beyond the Peverells and they were the stuff of fairytales.
And here Blaise was, in the middle of it all, with Harry's Godson hanging on his arm as he tried sketching Harry so he could compile a study of the man before it came to do the final portrait. He found himself knocked sideways that Pansy was here too, somewhere, carrying out research with Hermione Granger and apparently bonded to Luna damned Lovegood. Merlin, if someone had told them this when they were at school they would have died laughing and carted the so-called seer off to the Janus Thickey Ward in St Mungo's. Blaise snorted lightly to himself; maybe he'd get to revisit his fifth-year crush on Ginny Weasley now he knew he wouldn't be stepping on Potter's toes. Then he could complete the whole laughable plot twist in their fates. Ms Weasley was, after all, extremely hot; he knew that from the magazine shoots the Holyhead Harpies' star chaser did every so often. Apparently, she was turning up tomorrow.
He also found it quite hard to believe that he was sitting with Narcissa, Andromeda Black and Minerva fucking McGonagall. He couldn't help chanting to himself, scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, witch's mummy, maw and gulf... He decided that, combined, they scared him more than his own mother. It appeared the three women had spent their morning trying to straighten the room though there were still boxes stacked about the place. Narcissa said the House-Elves had moved some of the excess furniture into the room that ran parallel with the library and the witches had levitated most of the remaining stuff into the turret area. Apparently, there was a Grand Piano in there, underneath it all. The only furniture that had been left in the room for the moment was arranged around the fireplace. A oversized sage-green velvet sofa that was so deep that the other two laughing as Andromeda complained and tried to inelegantly heave herself out of blancmange-like cushions. The sofa faced a matching oversized footstool. They'd also found, or at least transfigured, two chaise-armchairs, covered in an intriguing cream and green floral and dragon design. It was all bizarrely comfortable and homely, considering the size of the bloody place.
'What is in all these boxes, Narcissa?' Blaise asked, intrigue getting the better of him.
'It appears,' Narcissa said, 'that the many generations of Potters just boxed up all their ancestors' belongings and dumped them in a convenient empty room within the Hall. And all the many generations of Potters have been ignoring the issue so it was little more than a hoarding nightmare as the task became too big to deal with. No one, along the way, has deciding what to keep and what to throw away.'
Minerva pursed her lips, 'indeed. A hard task and ever growing harder. We've decided to start tackling it. Starting in this room, seeing as we might get it clear in time for Christmas and then we can have a Christmas tree up in here.'
Blaise was uncertain who the 'we' meant but it seemed to encompass everyone.
'It's simply a laborious task of separating what can be vanished from items to keep, to items to sell,' finished Aunt Dromeda.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. 'And what is Potter doing?'
'Harry,' said Professor McGonagall, with a disapproving look, 'is procrastinating rather than getting on with fixing the tapestry.
Blaise wasn't sure if the disapproval was because he said 'Potter' or because Potter was procrastinating.
'I am in the room, mum. I can hear you perfectly well. Unhelpfully, the book only said to start at the beginning...'
'...which common sense dictates...'
'...are the roots of the main tree. Yes, I know. But I'm just checking in case the beginning is actually the earliest date because Ignotus was born before Linfred...'
'I suggest you begin with your most direct line,' offered Narcissa.
Blaise went back to his sketching.
'And are you sure that it's just enough to pour my magic into the tapestry?'
'Darling, we've been through this, go back and look at where you touched it yesterday.'
'Yes, I know, mum...'
It was strange to hear Professor McGonagall and Harry talk in this way; at school they had kept family life quite separate, so much so, that many didn't know at first. Of course, there had been that big row between them before Harry went on the run in the seventh year. He supposed...
'Can I ask?' he said. 'That scene that was reported about the two of you fighting in the middle of Hogsmeade before our seventh year... was it...?'
'Entirely,' Minerva said with a little satisfied smile. 'Harry insisted we stage a fight that would be well witnessed to buy us a bit of time. We didn't quite expect it to be believed for quite as long as it was. We understood what was at stake by that point. Severus protected me in his own way too but we couldn't be certain what attempts would be made or how safe I'd be at the school. I would have been a prime target for Voldemort's lackies so we had to make it seem as if we'd parted company in the most severing way and then I never left the school grounds. Of course, the Carrows tried, every so often, to threaten me but they were rather stupid for all their cruelty and Severus always seemed to be on hand if they ever got too close. They never dared to defy Severus.'
'Oh,' said Blaise. He got up to wander around and find a new angle to sketch from. He was finding that Potter rarely stood still for more than two seconds. He took some photos too, it was quite good that the room was dark because the morning sun hadn't made its way round yet and Potter's face was shadowy and very solid looking, yet there were intriguing reflections on his glasses.
Potter stood by a patch of tapestry that was greener and brighter than the rest and he assumed this was what they were referring too.
'Did you realise,' Blaise said, 'the green is the same colour as your ancestors' eyes? If you look at the portraits again, they all have this sage green eye-colour, except you, of course.'
'They do?' Harry said. 'Well, that explains it. I wondered why a family of Gryffindors, according to Ossy, would choose a green background...'
Potter stepped forward by the gold trunk of the tree, placed his hands on the roots and closed his eyes.
Blaise automatically stepped back.
And Minerva, Narcissa, and Andromeda stopped talking.
Even Teddy stopped fidgeting as Hercules placed his head in Teddy's lap.
The room became very still and calm.
Harry could feel it, the ripple of ancient magic pouring through his very bones to his fingertips and spreading outwards. The sensation was extraordinary, like it was being called to and it started in his stomach, in his very core and tingled outwards through his blood and across his skin. It was almost as if, if he opened his eyes, he would expect to see his skin sparkling. It was, in some ways, reminiscent of the Bonding. Certainly as intense. In his mind's eye, he saw his magic as white threads of light weaving into itself into the ancient cloth through the roots of the tree and trickling out to the furthest tips of the branches. He felt the magic as it drew towards his ancestors; a familiarity of recognition as it touched on the name and embroidered face of Linfred of Stinchcombe, and then his six children. Harry's magic then passed to Hardwin Potter and Iolanthe, then linking to her father, Galahad Peverell, and then Ignotus. He added Antioch and Cadmus and felt the links to Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin and Morgana Black.
He pulled his hands away and bowed his head. For the first time in months, he felt the errant magic that had coursed around his body to be depleted. It was almost shocking how used to it he'd become. 'I think we need Mione and Pansy,' he whispered hoarsely. 'And some water.'
The others were watching him with open mouths and nobody moved.
'What?' he said.
'There were threads of light; silver and gold,' Minnie said in a quiet voice. 'All around you and they were feeding into the tapestry. It was extraordinary. Look at the tapestry too.'
He turned to study where he'd just been focusing his magic and found the tapestry almost gleaming back at him, the old patinaed gold and silver threads were now alive with light that appeared iridescent. The faces and names of Linfred, Hardwin and Iolanthe, Galahad and Ignotus shone back at him, gleaming and clean and the brightness of their names clear against the refreshed sage-green background.
'It's beautiful,' he said, picking out the new gold branches with its pearly-silver blossom that joined the line of Black and Slytherin to the tree.
'I think we need the Unspeakables too,' said Minerva. 'Teddy darling, can you go and find Aunty Hermione and Aunty Pansy and ask them to come here? They're in the library.'
As Teddy dashed off, Minerva sent her Patronus soaring off to find Hugh Rambures and Chloe Flaubert.
'It's some heritage you have, Harry,' said Blaise.
'I assume that my son hasn't quite explained it all to you,' Narcissa said. 'It would appear Mr Potter is connected to a lot of the old families, including the Malfoys.' Her lips twitched. 'The lines have both been neglected and currently end with him. That's why there are problems. Ancestral Magic,' she added, as if that would clear everything up. 'A little-known area of magic which we are all suddenly finding out about and realising how important it is. And, unfortunately, how wrong the reasoning was that the Dark Lord used to create war.'
'Oh...' mumbled Blaise.
Andromeda said, 'he's not just connected to the Malfoys. There're a number of marriages to many of the old names, including the Blacks too, our Great Aunt Dorea. She was, naturally, disinherited.'
'Yes,' Narcissa smiled. 'Aunt Walburga did so like to take her anger out on the Black family tapestry. It's very satisfying to know it was all for nothing. And Lucius was very unhappy about Gabriel Malfoy's marriage to Gladwyn Potter in the fourteenth century and refused to talk about it, even though it seems so desperately long ago. But Lucius did like to hold on to his ridiculous grudges.'
'We even had her portrait at the Manor but we don't know where. Obviously well hidden,' Draco drawled from the doorway, towering over Mione, Luna, and Pansy, with Teddy dragging them in.
'You're related?' said Blaise, utterly shocked considering the feuds of the distant past.
'Very distantly.'
'You have to see what Da did with the tapestry. He went all sparkly and everything,' Teddy enthused.
Draco was at Harry's side in three long strides, 'are you okay?'
'Yes,' he smiled. 'It's helped. Have you an antidote to the Calming Potion? I think I need all the raw magic I can draw on for this, it's intense.'
'I'll go and get it. Don't start without me!' he said as he eyed the sparkling clean and refreshed parts of the tapestry keenly.
'We're going to wait for Hugh or Chloe to arrive. They need to see this too.'
People were crowding around the tapestry to see Harry's work, if it could be called that, so Harry took the opportunity to ask Letty to bring refreshments for everyone.
When Draco returned, he brought both Unspeakables who had just arrived by Floo and Dumbledore's and Severus's portrait.
Feeling like he was a circus freak, Harry stood by the tapestry tree roots again. Once more, as he placed his hands on the cloth, he closed his eyes and felt the call to his magic which he directed into the tree. This time his magic went straight towards Iolanthe and was drawn through her towards her children and their descendants. Old English names like Bedivere, Malduc, Grisandole, Ector, Ettare, Ozanna, and Pellum were unfamiliar in Harry's mind but his magic reached them, giving life as he crossed centuries. There was a promise within the threads that he started to understand. These people where his past but also his future and through them and through him, the Potters would continue into the next centuries. There wasn't a power in this, but rather a promise of wellbeing, a promise to the land on which he stood, and a promise to the future of the Wizarding World that meant inclusivity and accepting the new but holding onto the right traditions that preserved the old ways of Wizarding kind.
Onwards his magic crept through a long line of male heirs to Ralston, Thaddeus, Abraham, Sterling, Stephan, Wellington, Digby, Henry, William, George, Conrad, Charles, Henry, Charlus, and Fleamont. He needed to add James, Sirius, and finally his own name. It was like he was completing the circle, capturing his magic between the real him and the tapestry him. But he knew he wasn't finished yet. There were siblings and spouses and the links to other families to strengthen, and he found Longbottom and Black, Abbott and Prewett, which he knew was Molly Weasley's maiden name. He found Macmillan and Parkinson, Lovegood and Woods, Ollivander and Malfoy, and more. All these ancient names connected by magic. He sighed in relief when he found Urquart and then the Fleamonts who related to Ross and then Minnie; a link was then made between them as her heir. He added his mother, the only supposed Muggle in all these people but as the line of magic tugged between them, he felt it and smiled. Yes, the theory was right, she was a descendant of the Fawleys and he wondered if they'd find the last direct descendants had died out before she was born.
He let his magic flow and explore the links, find the holes, fill them in, and although he was tiring, he knew there was still some additions he needed to make. So, he added, Remus next to Sirius's name with a link to Harry as Sirius's heir. And he found the long link, through Sirius, all the way back to Salazar Slytherin. Then he added Tonks and Teddy and another link from him to Teddy. And with a contented smile, he added Draco Lucius Malfoy next to his own name. It was then that he slumped down to his knees, utterly exhausted. He felt unable to open his eyes.
He felt Draco's cool hands touch his cheeks and his forehead. 'Harry,' he was saying softly. 'Harry,' he was calling.
Harry languidly opened his eyes and looked into silver-grey eyes, the colour of the thread he'd woven into the tapestry that was still growing outwards to the silver blossom on the furthest branches that wove and curled around the windows and doors and into the corners.
'Are you okay?' Draco was saying, his voice filled with concern.
'Yes, just a little tired.'
They held each other for a long time, Harry resting his head on Draco's shoulder. They didn't care that the others watched.
'You added my name,' Draco whispered.
'Yes,' Harry said. 'I'm not letting you go, Dray. Not now...'
Finally, he stood up to make his way to the sofa. His legs felt weak and he desperately needed a drink. He glanced around the room and could see marvel in Minnie's eyes and unspoken questions bursting from Mione. Pansy was writing notes hurriedly, Luna always next to her. Blaise with his sketchbook open but his pencil on the floor. Dromeda was sitting very still, Teddy pressed against her, his thumb in his mouth. The Unspeakables had their heads together and were whispering hurriedly in hushed excited tones. Ron, leaning against the door jamb, silently watching what was going on, a slight furrow of concern across his forehead. Draco watching with apprehension. When Harry looked at Narcissa, he saw tears in her eyes, so he sat next to her and took her hand.
'That's what he means to me,' he said quietly.
She touched his cheek softly. 'You shouldn't really have added him, you're not betrothed.'
'Nor were Sirius and Remus but they were soulmates too... Anyway, if I can't have him, I'll remain without any other partner because no one can replace him. He'll be in my heart forever. I hope you'll give us your blessing when the time is right.'
She smiled and whispered, 'of course.'
'I promise I'll look after him, always.'
'I know, Harry. You're the one person in this world who can't be doubted when they make such a promise.'
'I need a drink.'
Narcissa got up from the sofa with an elegance that only she could exude and went to pour him a glass of water from the jug Letty had left on a table at the side.
'I think,' Harry announced. 'I just need to sit quietly in the corner until lunch time. No questions for the moment, I'm not sure I can cope with that right now,' he smiled at Mione, warding her off for the time being. 'I guess now's your chance, Blaise. I might actually sit still for more than five minutes. We'll do questions over lunch.'
Draco watched as Harry got up and moved across the room to slump into one of the patterned chaise-chairs and put his feet up, his eyes closed immediately in exhaustion. Draco went to him and perched on the chair beside his legs, facing him.
'Are you okay?' he said softly, taking Harry's hand and rubbing soothing circles into his palm.
'Yeh,' Harry smiled, looking at him through half-closed eyes. 'Yeh, good. I think I'll be able to join you tonight.'
'Are you thinking about sex again?'
'No, just sleeping next to you.'
'You'll take it easy for the rest of the day, won't you. You've been driving yourself ridiculously hard ever since we've arrived. You can sit back and let everyone else take the strain. It was quite remarkable to watch.'
'Where did you go this morning?'
'I nipped to Diagon Alley. I've brought some more Memory Boxes. I thought you could use them for Remus, Sirius, and your father's things that we ought to keep. Though I wonder if I should have got more. One for everyone. They'll be easy enough to store up in the attic rooms next to our studies.'
'Thank you.' Harry smiled at Draco, a lopsided quirk that spoke of his tiredness. He eased over on the chair, indicating that he wanted Draco to squeeze in next to him. Within seconds, he'd fallen asleep against Draco, oblivious to the others who worked around the room. The Unspeakables inspecting the tapestry at close quarters and running diagnostic spells. Luna and Hermione diving into a pile of books that Hermione had brought through from the library, much to Hebe's vocal disapproval. Ron was by Hermione's side, the first tentative steps towards rebuilding a friendship clearly happening. Draco had noticed how they both looked to each other, even if Hermione was reticent about trusting him. Pansy and Blaise taking the opportunity to reconnect, talking in low whispers and occasionally looking over at him and Harry, probably trying to make sense of it all. And then there was his mother, Aunt Dromeda, and Minerva going through boxes, vanishing stuff and arguing in low voices about what should be kept and what should be sold and what Harry should make a decision on. There was, he noticed, quite a lot of belongings being vanished and he was pleased about their ruthlessness. Perhaps it was an easier task because they were detached from any sentimentally.
Though he did stop them from vanishing a breastplate from a suit of armour. 'I think it was once Ralston Potter's,' he said. 'There's a full suit amongst all this stuff somewhere.'
Occasionally there was an exclamation of 'oh my goodness, is that a genuine...' whether they were talking about an oriental vase or a pair of silver candelabras. It was in variably those items that got put in the 'to keep' pile. Sometimes they'd hold an object up for Draco to either nod or shake his head at. They accepted easily that he had a say in all this too.
Eventually two console tables were rescued from somewhere and a pair of lamps were added to them and a bronze statue of a Welsh Green dragon was placed on one and a porcelain plate decorated with a Chinese dragon on the other. The three witches smirked in satisfaction, occasionally glancing at Harry, especially when they found a superbly large and dramatic painting of a Hungarian Horntail that they levitated up to above one of the fireplaces.
'It's a genuine Badeea Ali,' Aunt Dromeda whispered.
'The Dragon Drawing Room, very appropriate for Harry,' smirked Minerva.
'The Draco Room,' said Narcissa and they all giggled and looked at Harry and Draco.
He rolled his eyes.
And they continued their search.
It appeared that whichever ancestor these possessions belonged to had an expensive taste in all things dragony.
'William Potter,' Minerva read as she opened a journal. '1759-1795. Pansy, wasn't William Potter one of the ancestors you wanted to find out about. Only thirty, died quite young. Oh! Goodness, he helped set up the Romanian Dragon Reserve, killed by a Peruvian Vipertooth while on expedition in South America. Well, that explains that. I imagine these journals might be of interest to researchers though. Notes and notes on dragons and drawings too. We'll put them on one side for Hebe to catalogue and find a home for.'
'I've found William on the family tree,' said Luna softly. 'He was the oldest son of Henry Potter I. He had no children so the estate went to George Potter.'
'I wonder if he experienced issues with accidental magic.'
Hermione immediately carried the pile of journals to a chair and began to skim read.
And they all went back to their work, finding more dragon artwork for the other chimney breast, discarding more rubbish, and working their way through the many boxes. And all the while, Harry slept until Draco woke him for lunch.
***