“Ah. You want to take a Vow, then?” Harry asked, his throat tightening.
“Clever boy.”
“I will.”
“This ans forever, Harry.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure?”
Harry wished he could run it by Hermione and Ron, but he knew the shock of Draco being alive and having to explain his seemingly sudden change of heart towards his old rival would prevent them from being any kind of help. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Ron and Hermione. He couldn’t keep this from thim. Well, obviously, he could but it would be incredibly difficult, because even if he kept to himself, Hermione had an incredible talent in snooping into situations that interest her, particularly when they pertain to Harry.
“You’re hesitant,” McGonagall said, studying him.
“Ron and Hermione—”
“Will pose a problem, yes. I know you have been rather reclusive since the end of the war, but I don’t imagine they will let you keep them away for much longer. Especially when they start having children. And I should think it would be harder for you to keep away once they start asking when ‘Uncle Harry’ will e to visit and harder still when their children e to Hogwarts. Which is why I suggest we have them take a Vow, as well,” McGonagall interrupted.
“Really?” Harry asked, flabbergasted. It seed like too many people to be involved in such a big secret.
“You’ve always found strength in numbers, Harry. And you three have always been good at keeping secrets. And that way, if sothing should happen to you—unlikely, but it is possible there are still people who support Voldemort that would like to see you done in- Draco would still have a support system.”
“Are you sure, Professor?”
“I have to be, don’t I? You’re the least likely person in the world to be hiding Draco Malfoy and you’re one of the most trusted figures in the wizarding munity. You’re the best and only choice I have, Harry.”
“Then I guess I have to be sure, too,” Harry said.
Chapter 8
Draco never saw himself ending up here. Not even before he had taken the Mark and there was still a chance for him to lead a semi-normal life. He never saw himself on his knees, joining hands with Harry Potter, preparing to take a Vow. But here he was. He used his free hand to push his hair back from his face, more of a nervous tick than a necessity. Harry’s hand was smaller than his, but broader. Draco realized he hadn’t ever touched the other boy —man, now—for this long, unless you counted the incident with the fiendfyre, which he didn’t.
“You’ll have to look at each other, if you can manage it,” McGonagall’s stern voice interrupted Draco’s musings. Draco then realized that the both of them had been avoiding the other’s gaze.
“Draco, do you rember the conditions you are to ask Harry?”
“Yes,” Draco said, studying Harry’s face as the green light that filtered through the dungeon window’s made shapes appear across it.
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