"Were you a son of mine, Harry, I would pour you a glass of firewhiskey and force you to drink the whole thing," Lucius says smoothly as they begin the walk back towards the village. Harry glances up at him, trying not to laugh.

"You're so strange," he says.

"Luckily for you," Lucius continues as if he hadn't heard Harry speak, "Black is your guardian, and you are therefore his concern. Judging by his retained brain power, he began drinking at perhaps twelve."

"So did you," Harry says, and Lucius glances at him, seeming surprised. "You're French, right? Bet you grew up drinking wine with dinner." Lucius laughs. The sound is rich and it rings through the woods around them, bouncing off the trees, but Lucius doesn't argue. He gets a faraway look in his cold eyes, and his lips part as if he's going to share something with Harry, but then he closes his mouth, and he says nothing more.

"I'm not French," he says finally. "I was born in Clapham. And Draco was born at home. My mother was French, Harry, and we simply embrace our heritage in that regard." There's a short pause, and then Lucius says, "I did grow up drinking wine at dinner. But firewhiskey is something else entirely. The wine served to children at my table is watered down and weak - firewhiskey won't only make you drunk, but it will burn. And what want of yours is it to be drunk, boy? You think imbibing will strengthen your mental shields?"

"I wasn't thinking about that," Harry says, and at a cold win, he pulls up the hood of his cloak, so that both he and Lucius are hooded as they walk.

"No, you idiot child, you weren't thinking about anything." There's a soft crack behind them, and Harry and Lucius both freeze at the same time, mid-step, shoulders stiffening. Harry's hand goes to his wand, drawing it from his pocket, and Lucius unlatches something in his cane, drawing his wand forth slowly.

Harry moves instinctively to mirror Lucius' position, standing so that they're back to back and looking outwards at the copse of trees around them. The woods here aren't especially thick or difficult to traverse, simply weaving in between the fields and farms outside of the village proper, and no one could possibly have come out of nowhere. There's nowhere to sneak.

"Who's there?" Lucius calls out, his voice resonant in the quiet copse of trees. There's no response. Harry becomes aware of every single sound around him - the quiet rustle of his robes and Lucius', the soft, wet noise of the path beneath them, the singing of the birds in the distance, and the whispering of the wind through the trees. Harry scans the green around them, and then he stops.

Reaching back, he touches Lucius' lower back, stopping him short. They'd begun to rotate, naturally, but with Harry's hand touching him in silent warning, Lucius goes still. Harry wonders if he should have been a Seeker in his past life, because he sees the barent glint, the barest hint of colour between two bushes, through the leaves there. He sees an obnoxious carnation pink, and it's not from a flower that grows here.

"Stupefy!" Harry casts, swinging his wand forwards, but he's too slow: he sees the robe move, and already he's launching himself towards Chad Arnett. He's a short, compact man, but he has muscle on him, and when he grabs Harry he can't quite pull himself away, unable to twist his arms out of the other man's grip. Harry shifts, kicking as hard as he can in the direction of Arnett's inner thigh; he lets out a sharp sound, and then a pale hand cracks hard against the ginger-stubbled skin and Harry's thrown backwards. He lands on his arse in the dirt, scrambling to get hold of his wand again, but Lucius is already moving with cold, swift movements.

He has Arnett by the hair, holding him tightly in his left hand, and he grasps hold of Arnett's neck. Harry stares, wide-eyed, because he sees the way Lucius positions his gloved hands at the sides of Arnett's jaw, ready to snap the man's neck.

"Lucius!" comes a call from behind Harry, and before Harry can move his wand has been pulled out of his hand and another wand is against his throat. "Let him go." Harry can't look behind him, focused too much on staying completely still with the spell-warm tip of the wand at his neck, but he can see the sudden extra paleness on Lucius' features, the wideness of his cold, grey eyes, the tight grip of his hands on Arnett's neck and Arnett's own, panicked expression. "Now, Lucius, don't you want this nice young man back?" the voice behind him is cold and smooth and soft, and it reminds Harry of a snake's voice. "Let's trade, shall we?"

"Now, now, now," Arnett says, voice quavering. "Now, now, you really don't want-"

"Evan," Lucius murmurs, using an oily, clever voice that he's never aimed at Harry. "It hardly seems a fair trade. You don't really want this pathetic excuse for a wizard, do you?"

"Give him to me." The snake's voice hardens, and Harry sees a muscle in Lucius' jaw twitch, but then he shoves Arnett forwards, and when Harry stumbles towards Lucius, he grasps hold of him as if he's Lucius' own son. Harry catches his wand when it's thrown towards him, and he stares after the man in the silver cloak as he grabs Arnett by the shoulder, dragging him towards the village proper. Lucius pushes Harry back, examining him carefully and looking into his eyes, checking his skin.

"Are you alright?" Lucius asks, very seriously.

"Who did you just give Chad Arnett to?" Harry demands, and Lucius' nostrils flare. "We need to move. Come, now. Back to the Hog's Head, tout suite. Keep your wand to hand, now."

"You sound like a bloody military commander," Harry mutters, shaking off the dirt on the backs of his robes.

"In some ways, I used to be one." Lucius speaks so coldly that it actually makes Harry flinch slightly, and when Lucius says, "Now," Harry hurries up. The two of them walk quickly towards the village, and Harry slips into the back of the Hog's Head. The members of the Order are spread more naturally around the bar now, although Moody is now nowhere to be seen.

"Evan Rosier is here in town," Lucius says sharply, drawing the others up and out of their seats. "He's just taken hold of Chad Arnett: I'm not sure of their particular plans, but Arnett looked terrified."

"Given what he did to Rosier's sister, I'm not surprised," Arthur says, and Harry freezes, glancing between Lucius and Arthur. He hadn't connected it, the name Rosier, but now he remembers Sinistra's tears, remembers Theo telling him about the Rosiers, and it all comes together. It makes him feel sick. "He wasn't wearing his robes or his mask?"

"No," Lucius murmurs. "I don't believe he's here in his capacity as a servant of the Dark Lord. This is a personal revenge, unless-"

"Avery was meant to be looking for them. For Lockhart's people," Harry says. "Thadeus Avery and Bellatrix Lestrange." Hermione grabs her cloak, pulling it on over her robes. Her lips quiver, but her expression is resolute.

"We've got to get the other students inside," she says firmly, obviously doing her best to stop her voice from shaking as she pulls out her wand. Harry sees her lips move, reciting spells to herself, and he nods, moving to stand behind her, and before Lucius, Arthur or Ted can grab hold of them, the two of them rush outside.

---

The pleasant, sunny day out in Hogsmeade isn't at all in-tune with the panicked beat of Harry's heart or his heavy breathing, and he splits away from Hermione, letting her go to Binns and Tonks on one of the corners. The castle is too far away to get everyone up to the gates, and although he thinks of the Shrieking Shack, that's equally distant. Honeyduke's, then? He wants to keep the exit secret, but he'd rather get everyone in to somewhere where he can evacuate them back to the castle.

"Hermione!" he calls; she, Tonks and Binns look towards him. "The Honeyduke's basement!" She nods her head, and Harry scans around as Hermione and Tonks each start moving towards different staff members and Aurors dotted around the village. "Cedric! Francis!" The two prefects are stood together, and judging by Francis' completely neutral expression and Cedric's completely guilty one, they'd been discussing him. "Look, Francis, we think something's about to happen near Hogsmeade, with the Death Eaters, so we need to get everyone inside. There's a secret passage in the Honeyduke's basement, a trap door between a few shelves: get everyone into the shop and start funnelling them down towards the castle."

"I'll come with you, Harry," Cedric says as Francis straightens and starts herding the youngest students in towards the sweet shop, explaining hurriedly as he goes to Cho Chang and a fifth year Slytherin called Riggs as he goes. It takes barely a few minutes, and there are only Aurors, Hermione, Cedric and Harry left in the streets; with the past two years, the Hogwarts students and the Hogsmeade residents are all too easy to push inside, and Harry wonders vaguely if there'll be some cap on Hogsmeade visits after this.

"You should go inside, children," Lucius says, coming forwards. It's odd, seeing him and Arthur Weasley stood side-by-side - Harry's heard too many nasty comments from both families about the other, and it's more than slightly bizarre. They're complete opposites, with Lucius' pale hair and pale face, Arthur's dark freckles and bright hair, Arthur's green suit and Lucius' deep-blue robes, with Lucius so built with muscle and Arthur so damned lanky.

"We don't know that anything's actually going to happen," Harry maintains, standing stoutly between Cedric and Hermione. "And-" Behind him, Harry hears a loud thump. He, Cedric and Hermione turn on their heels, and Harry stares at the body in the middle of the Hogsmeade footpath. Deep, wine-red blood soaks thickly into the lacy carnation fabric of Chad Arnett's robes, and he looks like he's been cut on every side with swords or daggers or something. He's utterly still, and silent. Whistling over their heads, Harry sees two black-robed figures flit off on brooms, disappearing into the distance.

"We should get everyone back up to the castle," Cedric says, glancing back to Lucius an Arthur and looking between them. "We should- We should get everyone back up there. But we need to move the body, Mr Weasley, the kids, they can't see this."

"The Aurors will take care of it," Arthur murmurs, and he pats Cedric's back. "Don't worry, Cedric."

---

Harry sits in a hallway in the Ministry of Magic. The hallway is cold, and quiet, and mostly empty, and Harry sits alone outside the office of Auror Eleanor Guinan. Harry hadn't expected to be taken aside by Aurors for this, but he'd been escorted into the Ministry, by a few of them, and now he waits before he Floos back to Hogwarts, having received a particular note to Floo back to McGonagall's office once finished. Technically, he's been released to go home now, but he isn't going to, not just yet.

Auror Guinan's office opens, and Lucius steps out, giving the woman behind him a terse nod as he walks down the corridor: Harry stands and walks beside him, and Lucius adjusts his natural long stride to accommodate him.

"Harry," Lucius murmurs.

"Mmm?"

"You are aware, I hope, that it's something of an offence to lie to an investigating Auror?" His tone is not accusative, or sharp, or angry. If anything, it's amused, and teasing.

"Don't know what you mean," Harry says. He thinks of Lucius Malfoy's hands on Chad Arnett's neck, ready to snap it like the fastening on a bottle of champagne. "You were just going to knock him out, right? So you could safely apprehend him." There's a long pause between them as they walk through the corridors - this is part of the reason Harry waited. He had no wish at all to be lost in the winding corridors of the Ministry of Magic, and Lucius knows the place like the back of his hand. "Besides," Harry says finally. "You lied too."

"I believe, young man, that when you first picked up a quill to pen a letter, it triggered the hatching of a most venomous snake." When Lucius glances at him, it's with a fond smile. "I hope you understand how proud I am to know you."

"Don't you also think I'm an idiot?" Harry asks.

"The two feelings can exist simultaneously," Lucius assures him, and he leads Harry into the main hall of the Ministry, where dozens of fireplaces continuously flare green as people come in and go out. Harry lingers for a few moments with his hands in his pockets.

"There were two people," Harry says quietly. "So was it something Voldemort wanted, or was he just killing Arnett because he killed his sister? Evan Rosier?"

"Without wishing to repeat myself," Lucius says delicately, "the two feelings can exist simultaneously. Rosier likely asked for the privilege, but there's a reason they took him elsewhere first. Were he the Secret Keeper of Lockhart's base, they wouldn't have killed him. But even had he not engendered the death of Belle Rosier, they would have killed him merely for being alongside Lockhart. It's an insult to the Dark Lord, that a creator of pageantry like Lockhart might have followers." Harry exhales quietly, and he nods his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Lucius," Harry says, "I know you just gave me a lecture about how unimportant and arrogant I am, but-" Lucius chuckles, shaking his head. "No, no, really, Lucius, I'm serious. If I hadn't had my hood up-"

"He didn't know who you were," Lucius confirms. "Had he known who you were, the evening likely would have ended badly for you. The only reason he left me was because he knew he wouldn't have been able to face me in a duel." Lucius reaches out, tapping Harry's temple with the tip of his finger, and then he adds, "If one wants to focus upon the positives, you haven't worried about Occlumency in at least an hour or so, I suppose." Harry laughs.

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Lucius. I'll write you this week." Lucius inclines his head, but he doesn't actually leave the room. He keeps his gaze, watchful, on Harry until he's disappeared into the green flare of the Floo.