The Brightest Black

Snow began to fall and coat the dark ground with a pure white blanket, but Draco paid it no mind.

His thoughts were as far away from the small garden as they possibly could be.

Every time he closed his eyes he was back in the dining room at Malfoy Manor. Sometimes he was once again speaking with Lord Voldemort. Other times he was watching his father fall, doing something he had thought he could never do - defying his master.

Had his father's words about the Malfoy magic been real? Had there ever been a chain? Or was it a lie passed down through the generations? Keeping Malfoys in line.

"Why, father? Why change now?" he whispered into the soft silence.

"Draco?"

He looked up to see his mother standing in the gated entrance. The cheerful lights of the cottage causing her to glow like the angel he had once thought her to be.

That had been a lie.

In the few days he'd been stuck in bed it had been quite easy for him to realize she had been prepared for that fight. That shield in front of her - disguised as a serving platter. Even her placement at the table - putting herself between him and Lord Voldemort. She had reacted so quickly to his defiance, as if she had predicted it.

Potter had been right: his mother was much more than she pretended to be.

That's why he had been avoiding her since he first woke up several days ago to the sound of Hermione arguing with Mr. Lovegood.

That had been surprise, just as much as the sight of Potter lying across the foot of the bed. Not that it had really registered as a surprise until later, when the potions wore off and his brain cleared. At first it had seemed right to see her beside him propped up on pillows, her arm and shoulder bandaged up. He’d drifted back to sleep to the sound of her demanding word changes and arguments over the proper tone. When he’d awoken again he’d heard his mother speaking to Snape about potions, their conversation was accompanied by Hermione’s even breathing next to him. He’d pretended to still be asleep, his brain clear enough to remember why he was in a bed that was not his own, his heart and soul unwilling to tip the scale he was lying on and show him everything his defiance had caused.

He’d been avoiding her ever since. As well as almost everyone else. At least Potter and Hermione never seemed to want him to speak when he was around them.

But, he supposed that avoiding his mother today was not a kind thing to do. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

When he made no response she crossed the fresh snow and sat down on the bench next to him. Idly brushing the snow away with her hand, her wand still secured in her robes - as it would be for several weeks.

"You've been avoiding me."

He shrugged. She would need to explain more before he would decide whether to actually respond to her or not.

"You have questions, I'm assuming."

Still he said nothing.

Surprisingly, she chuckled.

"You are most certainly the son of Lucius and myself. Both of us were much too stubborn to see the truth for far too long."

He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow, she smiled in response and then let out a long sigh.

"Alright, interrupt me when you have questions. Otherwise, I will try to explain why you feel so betrayed. As a Black I was almost like royalty in Slytherin House at Hogwarts. When I entered Slytherin House I already had two older sisters in it. Bellatrix was four years older than me, but due to our birth months she was five years ahead of me in school. Andromeda was only two years ahead of me and before Hogwarts the two of us were inseparable. Until they finished school I was practically invisible, just the baby sister of two much more visible witches. I adapted to this and, when Bellatrix graduated, I began making it work for me, using my invisibility, but prominent family name, to make small changes in the house. To take apart some of the 'traditions' that an old prefect had started about twenty years before I entered. Andromeda graduated and then eloped with Ted right before my sixth year. Lucius also graduated that year, so he only knew my name, not me personally. He was supposed to marry Andromeda, before she ran off and followed her heart. In my last two years at Hogwarts I took over and ruled the House with an iron fist - though only those in my year truly knew it. I discovered that keeping up appearances and working from the shadows tended to net more results than being in the limelight."

She stopped and let out a small sigh, "And that was when I made my first mistake."

He couldn't help but ask, "What did you do?"

"I found myself engaged to your father and I chose to hide my true nature. He despised me. He had wanted a strong, confident wife, not the china doll I projected to the world. There's a reason we were married for so long before you were born. He-"

"Mother! I understand!" He protested, nothing could make him willing to hear about his parents' sexual lives. He preferred to believe he was hatched from an egg.

She snickered, "Alright, but by the time I did get him to come around and accept me, he had already given his allegiance to the Dark Lord. That was when I snapped and let my true personality show. For, you see, I knew that the Dark Lord was born Tom Riddle. My father knew him in school and loved to wax poetic about him. The Dark Lord was the prefect - Tom Riddle - that had started the despicable practices in Slytherin House. The ones that truly ruined the House's reputation. I hated that man. I still do. It's why I started working years ago to ensure you would never follow him like your father did."

He reeled under this knowledge, "That's why you wanted me to get engaged to Hermione. So I wouldn't admire him like Father!"

He couldn't believe it. She hadn't just planned out this evening. She'd planned out his life.

"That's part of the reason, yes. But I also know you are very like your father. You want to be surrounded by strong, confident people. Even as the weak look to you for guidance, you crave the attentions of those that are your equals, or, even those above you. Do you remember when you bumped into Hermione during your second year and she kneed you in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor? Then Dumbledore found you? You wrote me about it."

Draco winced as he remembered, "Yes."

"She had just accidently gotten her hands on something your father slipped to Ginerva Weasley. A dark object that had once belonged to the Dark Lord. I don't know much about it, but I do know that it spoke with the Dark Lord's voice. From the way he reacted upon learning of its destruction...I can make a few guesses, though I find some to be truly unbelievable. At the time I only knew it was evil and intricate. And that it was a sign, I knew, deep within my soul that he would come back. I was at loss of what to do to protect you, that is, until you came home and spent almost an hour ranting at me about 'Hermione Black and her bloody inability to mind her own business.' Frankly, I'm quite grateful she can't mind her own business. Otherwise I would already be lying next to your father right now."

"You've been planning for this moment since I was twelve!?!"

He couldn't believe it. Planning ahead so far...with so many variables...

It was inconceivable.

"Draco, I've been planning for your future since the day you were born. I regret to say that I let my own blood prejudices shape your younger years, as much as my inability to deny you anything. After the Dark Lord fell I was giddy with the thought that Lucius was now all mine. The Dark Lord may have chained Lucius to him with power, but I had chained him with love. A love I returned in equal measure.” She grew silent for a moment and he looked over to see her fingers clenched into fists, wrinkling her robes. “A wise, if rather foolish man, used to say that love was the most powerful force in the world. Your father proved that to be true."

"He said nothing could break the chain formed by our family magic. How did you know love would?"

She smiled sadly and reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand for a moment before pulling back.

"I didn't know. I was prepared for both possibilities, but I could only hope your father could break the chain. I've spent many years researching family magic. Malfoy family magic is built around subtlety, but, more than any other family, it is focused on protecting itself, no matter what. When you were in danger, the future of the family was in danger. Between that, and the love that binds the three of us together, it was enough. He did what no Malfoy has ever done before - he broke a chain formed in the idiocy of youth."

His fists clenched and he looked up, watching snow dance through the moonlight.

"Idiocy of youth. What if I follow his path? I don't admire Lord Voldemort," his mother visibly shuddered at the name, but he continued on, “but what if I admire the wrong man? If history repeats itself? "

"Draco, it doesn't have to be a man you admire."

Her words slipped out into the cold air, dancing among the snowflakes before landing on him like an avalanche.

"Hermione," he whispered.

It made sense. He'd admired her just a little bit ever since she'd leapt out that window to go rescue her brother. His respect for her had only grown over the following months. Especially after he had seen her scars - had known what she lived with every day. He admired her and she was a powerful witch. He’d even put himself at risk to rescue her. Put his entire family at risk.

He had chained himself without even realizing it was a possibility.

Something clicked, deep down in his magic. He could feel a line, one that had been there for a long time, but he had only just noticed. It ran away from him and back into the cottage.

At first, relief flooded through him. Hermione would never grow dark. She would never torture children or force him to kill. Of all the people he knew he could be chained to, Hermione was the best.

She would never use it against him.

When the relief faded, anger began to boil up. His mother had set this up. She had manipulated him as much as his grandfather had manipulated his father.

"You planned this."

"Yes."

There was no apology in her voice.

He wanted to ask why, but he already knew.

He stood up and straightened his robes, "You couldn't have planned everything. You didn't know I would-" he stopped, a thought appearing.

"You did know! You had Snape show me how to cure Hermione!"

He stared at her, shock leaving him gaping down at her pinched and tired face.

"Yes, though it was always your choice. You never had to brew the potion. You didn't have to save her."

His head reeled. It was too much.

He turned and ran.

XXX

"You are much too quiet, what's on your mind?"

Hermione nibbled on her lip and looked over at Padfoot. Just the sight of him made her want to crawl up and cry.

His hair had been cut by the healers, which only seemed to highlight the fresh, red scars crisscrossing his skin.

He looked like Uncle Remus now.

Hermione had heard Padfoot joking about that, when he was still at St. Mungos.

She didn’t know how they could joke when all she wanted to do was cry.

Padfoot was scarred, like her.

Except he couldn't hide them. And it was her fault. She'd been the one to lead the charge into Malfoy Manor. She was the reason the Order had come.

The reason Dumbledore, Whistledown, Doge, and several others were dead.

The reason Pansy was in a coma and Theo was in physical therapy. It was her fault Ron now sported a nasty cursed scar across his chest - he claimed the spell actually only hit him after bouncing off a silver goblet.

She shuddered to think what it would have done if it was a direct hit.

Luna had been hit in the head with a small fireball. She'd only suffered minimal burns, but now parts of her scalp refused to grow hair.

All because they trusted her enough to follow her.

She could've gotten them all killed.

She and Harry had been moments from dying. She had allowed herself to lose control. First to the Black bloodlust, and then to her own fear.

She was weak.

"Hermione Granger Black."

She jumped and looked back up at Padfoot. It was hard to meet his eyes, what with him lying face down on the lounge as his back was still tender.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head. And I'll tell you the same thing I told Harry: Look at the guilt, accept the guilt, and then put it away. Once you've done that, look back at the situation again. I won't tell you what you'll see, but I know what I see."

Her fingers tightened in her robes, but she didn't look away. He was right, she couldn't let the guilt consume her, it would do no good.

"What do you see," she asked.

"I see my daughter, a young woman brave and honorable enough to stage a rescue mission to save our cousin. I also see a young woman clever enough to force the Order to action and, through the manipulation of public opinion, force the Ministry to get involved. Make them realize Voldemort truly is back."

"You lied to the Ministry at first. You showed that fake ransom note."

He chuckled, "That was Andy's idea, I'll admit, but it got them moving. It was your articles that made them accept what they saw. Made it so that when the aurors that came returned to the Ministry with the news they were believed. Also," he looked at her seriously, "Cissy wouldn't be alive right now if you hadn't taken action."

"But so many people died..."

She looked away again and watched the light from the fire dance across the rug.

"Yes, but we also killed or captured a lot of death eaters. This is a war, Hermione, people are going to die. We just have to do our best to lower the numbers and make every person count."

Her fists clenched and she felt her nails dig into her skin. The sharp pain calmed her, bringing her attention back to the present. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. As she did so she uncurled her hands.

Little half-moons decorated her skin, reminding her of the full moon outside.

It was the first full moon Padfoot had been unable to keep Uncle Remus company. The last full moon for which Whistledown had brewed Wolfsbane for him.

No.

She pushed the thoughts back and made herself continue to focus on breathing.

She was so focused that it took a soft hand touching her own to bring her back.

She looked up, blinking in confusion until she realized the woman crouched before her on the rug was no other than Narcissa Malfoy.

"Hermione, I think Sirius and I need to talk with you some more on the Black magic. If you feel up to it at the moment."

She was instantly reminded of losing control, of coming within seconds of killing Bellatrix.

The thought sickened her, but she did not throw up.

"How do I control the bloodlust? I don't-" she paused and swallowed, "I don't want to lose control again."

"Find an anchor," they said together, causing Hermione to crack a small smile at the expressions on their faces.

She doubted they thought the same thought often, even if their goals in life were remarkably similar at this point in time.

"I used to use James, Remus, and," he scowled, "the rat. That's why I almost lost control when I found out James had died because we'd been betrayed. A rather wise, if neurotic, wizard pointed out that I had other responsibilities at that point. I turned you and Harry into my anchors."

"I used to use Andromeda, when we were in school. Then she ran off and I was adrift for a bit. Luckily nothing truly terrible happened. When Lucius and I grew close and fell in love he was my anchor, but Draco has taken his spot. A very good thing as I don't think I'd be sane right now if Lucius had been my only anchor."

Hermione couldn't help but scowl, "Why wasn't I told this before?"

Sirius sighed and reached up to scratch absently at a puckered, pink scar.

Narcissa looked pointedly at him, "Yes, why wasn't she told? I know I was told before I even started Hogwarts. As were you."

He looked away from them, "At first I thought she'd escaped the bloodlust, though I did warn her that the Black magic could try and force her to do things. When I began to suspect otherwise I realized Harry was her anchor. As he was going nowhere and they also had the blood wards tying them together I figured it was a moot point. I was wrong. Apparently a brother is not a strong enough emotional anchor when faced with the murderer of your parents and the one that carved words into your skin."

"Apparently not," Narcissa said coolly, arching a delicate brow at Padfoot. Hermione envied her that ability.

He very pointedly did not look at her, instead focusing on the crackling fire.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the idea of emotional anchors Hermione cast about for another topic. The quietness of the cottage quickly gave her one.

"Where is everyone else?"

Narcissa turned her attention back on Hermione, "Draco reacted poorly to our discussion and ran off into the woods. I saw Harry chase after them and as I am currently as magically gifted as a first-year I sent Nymphadora and Alianore off after them. Kreacher and Dobby are currently arguing in the kitchen over who gets to prepare breakfast tomorrow. I cast a silencing charm on the room as they are getting quiet noisy."

"Do you think we should break up the fight," Hermione asked.

Padfoot snorted, "Don't even think about meddling in elf business. They're both older than you and can figure it out, I'm sure."

"Yes, besides, they won't be working together forever. I'm think Draco and I will find a new place to live once I'm back to full strength."

"No, you two are not going out to live alone. I just bet Draco is now almost tied with Harry on Voldemort's 'Must Kill List.”

"I agree," Hermione said after Padfoot finished.

Narcissa's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Are you two trying to forbid me?"

Hermione and Padfoot gaped at her for a moment, then Padfoot rolled his eyes, “Really, Cissy? Do you honestly think we’re so thick we don’t realize that you actually want to keep staying here? After all, won’t having Hermione and Draco under the same roof make things easier for you? Unless you’ve given up on your plan to see them wed?” Hermione made a face at that, but she surprisingly felt none of the old revulsion at the idea.

Narcissa sighed as the annoyance left her face, “Can’t you at least let me pretend to be sneaky?”

“Nope! Now, are you really planning to find a different house?”

Narcissa gave a sharp shake of her head, her eyes promising retribution for ruining her attempt at being subtle.

Hermione couldn't help it, she snickered, and when she heard Padfoot do the same she only laughed harder. A moment later Narcissa joined in, and all the tension left the cozy room. Hermione felt more at ease than she had in days.

XXX

He was somewhere in the woods, by a small frozen creek. The air was filled with a stillness that could only be found in a winter night. Not even his harsh breathing could truly break it.

He plopped down on a small boulder, trying to catch his breath. Something sharp dug into his thigh and he reached under to find a rough rope.

Pulling in it did nothing. Using the light of the moon he traced the rope down to the creek, where it disappeared through the ice.

"It's a fish feeder."

He jumped and spun, almost falling off the boulder. His wand pointed at the speaker, even though his magic claimed the speaker was no threat.

"Potter."

"Draco. Mind if I sit?" He gestured to the empty spot on the rock.

Draco shook his head and shifted to allow Pot- no, Harry, more room. Might as well call him by his first name. He had almost died saving Draco's mother. If that didn't eliminate their childhood animosity, he wasn't sure what would.

Neither of them spoke for several moments. Draco couldn't help but wonder how and why Harry had followed him. The other boy seemed to know this.

"I overheard you and your mother in the garden."

"So, you followed me in case you had to play hero? Make sure I did nothing stupid?" Draco asked bitterly.

"No."

"Then why?"

Harry was silent, so Draco looked over at him curiously. There was a small frown on the other boy's brow and a pensive look in the eyes that twinkled like emeralds in the winter moonlight. Draco found himself wishing the person next to him had eyes like polished mahogany instead.

"How much do you know about the magic in other families?"

"Not much."

"Okay, well, I'll try to explain as I go along. The Potter magic has always tended towards defense, with the greatest weakness being arrogance and overconfidence. As well as trouble with more subtle things. Things Malfoys have always excelled at."

Draco knew that if he had heard this years ago he would have gloated. Now he just nodded and commented, "But you are far from arrogant and overconfident. Besides, you do fairly well in potions when Snape leaves you alone."

Harry chuckled, "Part of that is due to Hermione. But you're right. I don't suffer from the same flaws as my father and grandfather. In part because my mother was Muggle-born and so did not bind her magic when she got married. This meant her new family magic mixed with my father's. It was her family magic, her capacity to love, that saved me that night. She gave her life to save me. And my father gave his to save her. These sacrifices, combined with the fact that their blood and magic runs through me, allowed Dumbledore to cast blood wards on me."

Harry rolled up one sleeve and tapped his arm with his wand, whispering a strange word.

Runes appeared - runes far outside of Draco's ability to translate.

"Dumbledore hid them, but Luna found the spell to reveal them. She taught it to me. They stay active as long as I share a home with someone of my mother's blood."

"They're still active," Draco said, stating the obvious.

Harry chuckled, "Very active. They've actually morphed into more of a bond than originally intended. I don't think Dumbledore ever expected that. We're able to track each other and speak without words. In highly emotional times we can even see through each other's eyes."

"That's how you two do it."

Draco was shocked, stunned even. He'd always wondered how Hermione had known Voldemort was back or how to find Harry last May.

"Yes, that's also how I found you tonight. I can feel you through ny bond with her, now that I know you're there. Thinking back, I feel like I knew you were tied in with us ever since I followed you to that strange, disappearing potions room last June. It's likely why I trusted you so easily to save her. I never loan out my cloak. Not even Hermione has used it without me."

It also explained why Draco had felt so hurt when Harry accused him of not changing. Or, maybe that was just his imagination. From his father's disgust at Voldemort he was reasonably certain that the bond did not create emotions, even if it needed admiration to form.

"You know, you have to tell Hermione, once you wrap your mind around this. She deserves to know. Especially because it will not be pretty if she learns at the wrong moment."

Draco frowned, "What do you mean it won't be pretty?"

"Black family magic. Hermione's is diluted a bit as she was old enough when she was adopted to bring in some of her own magic, but with her experiences it almost makes it worse. She doesn't take well to learning that something – or someone – she considers hers is put in danger. And with this bond you become - partly - her responsibility."

"You mean she could run off and do something stupid. Like she did when you were kidnapped."

"Yes. It's also likely why your mother manipulated you and everyone else. Blacks will do anything to protect what is theirs, or so Padfoot says. And you are her most prized possession. Though I doubt she views you as a possession any more than Hermione views me as one."

"What about Sirius Black? He's not known for being possessive."

"Oh, yes he is. It's just that as a former Gryffindor most people mistake it for recklessness. When my parents were killed he almost went out of his head with the desire for vengeance. But he had Hermione already when he learned. And a young toddler he had just rescued and adopted ranked higher than my parents on his list of 'possessions'. He was satisfied with letting Moody take care of it."

"And the Prewett brothers," Draco said, remembering his father explaining why they had found a soulless Peter Pettigrew in Azkaban.

Blowing up the last two male heirs of an old wizarding family had been unforgivable. Not to mention the rat's part in betraying the Potters.

"Yes, and the Prewett brothers."

Draco sighed, "I'll talk to Hermione. Tomorrow, after Christmas dinner. You two just got Sirius Black back from St. Mungos. You should be spending time with him."

Pot-, no, Harry rested a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You should just call him Padfoot. You're family after all."

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it closed when he realized there was a lump in his throat.

Family.

Family was important. Family was all he had. His friends were out of his reach right now. Pansy was still under a stasis charm as they attempted to break the curse on her and Theo was living with the Tonks as he learned to live with his own injuries. Injuries Draco felt were his fault. He was too afraid to see if Theo blamed him. After all, Draco had been the one to defy Lord Voldemort.

And yet all he had received were scars. Scars that were easily covered by the trousers he always wore. Guilt wracked through him and his eyes began to burn.

His father, Headmaster Dumbledore, and several others were dead because of him. His fault, it was all his fault.

Cold fingers grasped his and Draco gasped as there was suddenly a faint presence in his mind.

He tensed and looked over at Harry.

"You think you're the only one that feels guilty?" Harry shook his head, "We all feel it. I almost let Voldemort kill me because of it. But, do you know what Padfoot told me when I visited him in St. Mungos?"

"What?" Draco croaked out.

"Guilt is a teacher, accept it, learn from it, and then put it in a box. Once you do that, you can look back at the situation properly."

"Did," he stopped and cleared his throat, "did you do that?"

Harry nodded, "Yes."

"What did you find?"

A grim smile appeared, giving Harry an almost sinister look in the moonlight.

"What did I find? I found that the only truly guilty one is Voldemort. Not you, not me, and not Hermione. I intend to make sure he pays for his crimes. Now, Draco, will you help me?”

Harry took his hand off of Draco’s - breaking the mental connection - and instead offered it in a handshake.

He stared at it for a single heartbeat, but, really it wasn’t a choice. He reached out and shook the Gryffindor’s hand firmly.

“Of course.”

The two young men smiled at each other, though Draco felt no happiness behind his own smile. More of a comforting security.

A branch cracked and Draco's heart stopped even as he released Harry's hand and drew his wand.

The full moon filtered through the trees, showing two witches standing there. One had long red hair, the other short and pink.

"Wotcher, boys! Happy Christmas!" Tonks said happily, while her companion scoffed.

"Draco, Harry, nice reflexes, but you're both still dead. What possessed you two to go running outside of the wards?"

Draco groaned, why must red-heads take such delight in torturing him with their existence?

"Sorry, I saw Draco run off and didn't think," Harry apologized as he stowed his wand and hopped off the rock.

Draco kept his out and clambered off the rock - he didn't trust Alianore Roux not to give him an impromptu 'test' after he'd been so stupid.

"Luckily Narcissa came inside and told us you'd run off. I left a perfectly good glass of mulled wine to chase after you nitwits," Alianore grumbled as they all began walking back to Black Cottage.

"Point," Tonks said, "Draco, you should know your mother is still magically exhausted. She can't go running after you. Not when she can only cast the simplest of spells."

Guilt rushed through Draco and he felt his cheeks heat up. The truth was, he hadn't been thinking.

So much for being a perfect Slytherin, he was acting much more like a Gryffindor lately.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Alianore let out a delicate snort and fell back a bit so she could clap him on the shoulder, "Don't feel guilty, just think first! Alright? Plans can ensure victory, even against the greatest of odds. Besides, you're a Slytherin. Plans should be the most important thing to you."

"Point," slipped out of his mouth before he even thought about it. Earning a chuckle from the three people walking with him.

Draco felt his lips twist into his own rueful smile as he stepped onto a well-trod path.

Perhaps he wasn't quite as alone as he'd believed he was.