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A More Worldly Man	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10960 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Ten—Unexpected Attacks

            A steady, thunderous sound had invaded Harry’s dreams and was ringing against the sides of his head. He found himself struggling against it, trying to wake up. He’d been dreaming about the moment when he plunged into the pool in the middle of the Forest of Dean to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor. Maybe the pounding was just his heart in his ears when the locket tried to choke him.

            But he opened his eyes, and the thundering sound was still there. Knocking, he realized finally. He sat up and reached for his glasses with his only free hand; his other arm was caught under Draco. They’d sprawled in the middle of the bed together, naked and laughing at each other in the moments before they’d fallen asleep.

            Draco raised his head and yawned so hard that Harry could hear muscles popping in his face. His eyes were still shut, as if sealed with sleep. “Who’s that?” he muttered.

            “I don’t know,” Harry said. “I’ll find out.” He slipped his glasses on, awkwardly, and then bent over and kissed Draco on the forehead. He could hear the knocking increase, and fainter sounds that might have been complaints from his neighbors. “You need to move so I can get my arm back and retrieve my wand.”

            Draco grunted and rolled over. Harry snatched up his wand and Transfigured the pillow he’d been sleeping on into a shapeless robe. He could always change it back later. Or he could use Draco for a pillow, he thought, smiling as he tied the robe together in the front with some of the looser strips of cloth dangling from it.

            “Harry?”

            In the doorway of the bedroom, Harry paused and looked back. Draco had raised himself on an elbow and was staring at him with eyes that looked enormous in the moonlight through the windows and the Lumos charm Harry had started without thought on the end of his wand.

            “Be careful,” Draco said.

            “Always, now that I have you,” said Harry, and had the pleasure of seeing a wan smile cross Draco’s face before he turned and left the bedroom.

            He paused when he came into the main room of the flat and tilted his head. He could tell that the people pounding on his door were wizards from the sense of magic that tingled about them and brushed the edges of his wards. He knew they weren’t familiar, however, and he thought he knew Hermione, Millicent, and even Diggory well enough by now to tell if one of them had been outside.

            Hermione wouldn’t have bothered with the knocking in any case, since she can come through the wards, Harry reminded himself, and said calmly, “Who’s there?”

            The knocking stopped at once, but Harry heard rustling noises that sounded like the beginning of a furious argument. He leaned against the wall and waited, several defensive spells surging to his lips. His magic rippled up and down in him like a banner tossed by the wind, but Harry was reluctant to rely on the wandless aspects of it now, when he was off the potion.

            Finally, a voice said through the door, “Harry Potter?”



            “I might be willing to confirm that,” Harry said, aiming his wand at the door, “if you tell me who you are.”

            “I certainly have no objection to doing so,” said the pompous voice. “My name is Auror Dominic Willowberry. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is here to arrest you under the Dictate of Limited Magical Strength.”

            “I’ve never heard of such a law,” said Harry. “Why are you arresting me? What’s the charge?”

            For the first time, Willowberry sounded uncomfortable. “Do you really want to discuss this in the open in front of all your Muggle neighbors?”

            “You’ve already mentioned the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” said Harry, leaning his shoulder on the wall again. He could hear thrashing noises in the bedroom now, and wondered if he should be grateful or not that their conversation would probably wake Draco up. “I’m sure they think we’re all mad.”

            Willowberry gave a sigh that seemed to last for hours. “All right,” he said at last. “The Dictate of Limited Magical Strength is a law created for the defense of ordinary wizards against magical creatures. It’s meant to keep the powerful from trampling on the less powerful. It’s one of the reasons that most magical creatures cannot carry wands, for instance.”

            Harry bit back several of the more sarcastic comments he would have liked to make. “That’s nice,” he said. “But I’m not a magical creature.”

            Now Willowberry sounded grave. “I’m afraid, Mr. Potter, that you could now be classified that way, thanks to evidence released to the Ministry of Magic that you have the ability to make ordinary wizards into Squibs. Beings who devour magic must register with the Ministry and not carry wands. Those who refuse to do so are punished with the minimum of three years in Azkaban.” Willowberry sounded sadder than ever. Harry thought he probably wasn’t gleeful to see Harry Potter specifically punished; he was just one of those odd blokes who became Aurors because they liked to see laws endure unbroken.

            Harry took a deep breath and rubbed the inside of his wrist. Narcissa Malfoy’s threat of a strike against Harry and Draco made sense now.

            A soft sound came from behind him. Harry whirled around, although he knew rationally that no one could have got inside his wards without his having more notice. Draco, dressed in a much better version of the robe he was wearing, narrowed his eyes at him and then flicked his glance at the door.

            “How ridiculous,” he said quietly. “You can’t go with them.”

            “And you don’t know what they do to people who resist arrest,” said Harry.

            “Mr. Potter?” Willowberry had recovered from whatever sadness he’d shown earlier and now sounded extra-pompous. “We’re waiting, and we are not willing to wait much longer, in case your magic-eating abilities prove a danger to us as well.”

            Draco was shaking his head, his eyes still wide, but his lips worked into a thin line. “They’ll hurt you, Harry,” he said. He turned to the side, and Harry saw he was holding his wand. “And I won’t allow that to happen any more than you’ll let them hurt me.”

            Harry sighed. His heart was pounding furiously, the way he had imagined it was when he woke from the dream. “Draco, they’re far less likely to hurt me outright than someone like Daphne or Cordelia Nott,” he said. “Please. Let me face this. You can be more useful if you don’t get yourself arrested along with me. Contact Hermione and tell her that something more important than identifying all of Daphne’s ex-lovers has happened.”

            For a long moment, Harry thought Draco would insist on fighting the Aurors. His whole body tensed. But he only turned away and punched a wall, and then turned forwards and seized the back of Harry’s neck, dragging him into a kiss. Harry responded eagerly, his tongue twining around Draco’s before he pulled them forcefully apart and turned towards the door.

            “If I don’t hear something from you, or see you myself, in two days,” Draco said from behind him, “then I’m going to storm the Ministry.”

            Harry paused and looked back at him, his lips twitching up into a smile despite himself. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’ll think of some much more subtle and Slytherin way than that to destroy them.”

            He had the satisfaction of seeing Draco smile back before he opened the door and began removing the wards, though he left up the stronger defensive ones to sting if it turned out that the people at the door weren’t Aurors after all.

            But they were clad in the regulation dark robes of Aurors and held their wands in that special stance Harry had seen them use before, not quite aimed at the suspect but quick enough to rise if need be. The leader, a tall man with a thin face, nodded and said in Willowberry’s voice, “Thank you for agreeing to come along quietly, Mr. Potter. We will, of course, take your wand.”

            Harry handed his wand to Willowberry, suffering a brief spasm of regret that he’d stopped taking the potion after all. He didn’t know if he could defend himself sufficiently if something happened to him, even if he thought about danger to Draco.

            Hermione will come for you. And Draco. Trust to them.

            Harry relaxed. Trusting his friends was at least something that he was used to. He turned and walked away from his flat in the company of the Aurors, his head high and his back muscles relaxed. He wanted to present as cheerful a picture to Draco as he could for as long as he could.

*

            Draco didn’t hesitate when Harry was gone. First he shut the door and leaned against it, allowing himself exactly ten seconds in which to have an internal temper tantrum about how unfair things were.

            Then he thought of a plan, the sort of thing he would naturally do in this situation—

            And then he discarded the plan. He didn’t think he could, in good conscience, go back to the Slytherin games he had abandoned.

            Even if they would free Harry from the Ministry?Even if you think you’ll play them better than the Gryffindor ones?

            But Draco shook his head firmly. No. Besides, he doubted contacting his parents and pretending to surrender at this point if they would drop the charges against Harry would have the results he wanted. Narcissa’s price would probably be a public renunciation of Harry, and Lucius’s would be Draco’s moving back into the Manor, or at least allowing Lucius to put spells on him that would prevent him from doing certain things, such as associating with Harry. And they would demand both before they dropped the charges.

            If they did.Given their alliance with Diggory, they might simply pass along the responsibility of keeping Harry imprisoned to him, and then claim they’d kept the letter of their bargain with Draco.

            Harry was not yet in such danger that Draco had to resort to such desperate tactics. He opened his eyes, his mind calming and his heart stopping its frantic beat. He went to find the ink and parchment for two letters.

            He would owl Granger, yes, the way Harry had suggested. She worked in the Ministry and would know the procedures there; she might even have contacts who could ameliorate what had happened to Harry.

            But he would also owl Millicent. Millicent would be most unhappy to find out that Lucius Malfoy was trying to deprive her of revenge.

            Draco smiled grimly. He would instruct Millicent to come to Harry’s flat before they went to the Ministry, mostly because he wanted to be along when she charged the people who thought they could keep one of her allies captive.

            It will surely make a wonderful noise.

*

            “And how long have you been able to devour magic, Mr. Potter?”

            Harry sat upright on the chair in front of the Minister’s desk and smiled as naturally as he could. It was difficult with one of his old friends avoiding his gaze and speaking as if Harry was a stranger to him.

            “I have no idea,” Harry said. “The ability didn’t exactly develop overnight, or walk up and announce itself.”

            Kingsley glanced up for a moment, then averted his gaze. His hand tightened on his quill. Harry had no doubt that he wasn’t happy to be here and interrogating Harry like this, unlike Willowberry, who maintained a rigid posture against the far wall and followed every question avidly.

            “When do you think you developed it?” Kingsley said, his voice as sharp as a diamond scratching on glass.

            “I really have no idea.” Harry thought the best thing he could be was candid, since the Ministry already knew most of the details he’d have liked to keep hidden. The point of this wasn’t to protect his pride; the point was to convince the Minister that he wasn’t a danger to the wizarding world and to get back to Draco. “Six years ago, I used the ability on a close friend, but I managed to restrain that magic in time. She didn’t tell me until recently that she thought she had lost part of her power at the time.”

            “That friend’s name?” Now Kingsley’s voice was a diamond on ice.

            Harry closed his eyes. “Ginevra Weasley.”

            The scratching of the quill paused for a moment, but then Kingsley said only, “Of course it would be her,” and returned to his writing. Harry sat and waited for the next question. There was freezing sweat on the back of his neck. He wished he could reach up and scratch it, but such a gesture would either be an admission of weakness in front of people who had just become his enemies or taken as a sign that he was reaching for a weapon. Willowberry was already nervous enough, and Harry didn’t think he wanted to know what Kingsley was feeling in any more detail than he had to.

            “What reasons did you have for making Daphne Greengrass into a Squib?” Kingsley asked at last.

            Harry was glad to get into this portion of the interview, if only because he thought it likely the Malfoys had left out the reason entirely when they sent the memories to the Ministry. He opened his eyes and leaned forwards. “She was torturing Draco Malfoy,” he said quietly, “my business partner and now my lover.” The skin between Kingsley’s eyebrows pinched tighter, but this time he didn’t speak. “There was very little I could do to stop her. She was a skilled Legilimens and would have read any complicated plan out of my mind before I could put it into action. So I went into the situation concentrating on danger to Draco. That’s when this ability rises up in me, when I have extremely strong emotions towards someone I want to protect.” And that part was true. Harry would mention those emotions if he needed to. “She had tortured Draco whilst she waited for me. She knew I was a powerful wizard, but so was she, so she wasn’t afraid. I tried to convince her to give Draco up and stop hurting him, but I knew she wouldn’t, and so—“ Harry looked directly at Kingsley. “I suspect you’ve seen the memories in a Pensieve, haven’t you, sir?”

            Kingsley frowned more deeply. “You speak as if you know who brought the charges already, Mr. Potter.” Behind Harry, Willowberry took a step forwards.

            “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy did,” Harry said. “I already knew that Greengrass had a spell in her house that recorded certain memories and sent them to other people. She selected the Malfoys as appropriate recipients of the moments when she became a Squib. And, of course, she sent along no memories of Draco’s torture.” He felt his lips twist, and fought to keep from sneering. No one would understand if he sneered at the Minister instead of the Malfoys, as he so longed to do.

            “Then why would they bring charges against you?” Kingsley asked, quick as a snake unfolding. “If she was torturing their son, they ought to feel grateful you freed him.”

            “Ah,” said Harry, tasting the full weight of bitterness on the back of his tongue, “but she didn’t send the memories of the torture to them. So they can pretend that part didn’t happen, and they can ignore everything I say about it as lies. They want me away from him because they don’t approve of Draco near someone they think might swallow his magic—even though I would never hurt Draco. And they don’t want Draco to be Harry Potter’s lover.” He leaned in closer still. “Before they sent the memories to you, sir, they tried to display them to many of their pure-blood friends at a party to which Draco and I were invited. Charlemagne Diggory appeared as well. I destroyed the spells they’d prepared to show the memories before they could appear. If you think I’m lying, sir, I can bring in witnesses who will say the same thing, or I’m willing to give you my own memories in a Pensieve or undergo Veritaserum. The Malfoys’ intentions are not pure and not motivated only by concern for their son. This is a political move to try and destroy me. The fact that they’re allied with Charlemagne Diggory, who’s already publicly expressed concern over the Desire potion Draco and I are brewing, also argues that.”

            He wondered for a moment why the Malfoys had done this at all. Did they think he wouldn’t tell the truth about Draco’s torture? That once he was in the Ministry, all evidence of what was really happening could be hidden beneath paperwork? Maybe they hadn’t known that the Minister would insist on questioning Harry himself, and that he was unlikely to lose track of this case. Or were they depending on a public reaction of such depth and intensity to the announcement that Harry could eat magic that any justice in the trial would be bowled over?

            I’d reckon they didn’t think I’d tell the truth. Slytherins rarely seem to think anyone will choose that option.

            “The reasons behind the charges don’t really matter,” said Willowberry, his tone so nasal it sounded like a bray. “You’re still a dangerous magical creature who should have come and registered with the Ministry the moment you realized you could swallow magic.”

            “I’ve tried to make it clear that I didn’t know for a long time,” Harry said. “And then I assumed if I did announce it, the panic would prevent any fair treatment.” He kept his eyes locked on Kingsley. “What do you think, sir? What will happen now?”

            Kingsley stared at his quill. Harry watched him and thought he could sense some of his thoughts. There were those who would say that Kingsley’s taking any actions against Diggory came only from his fear that he wouldn’t get reelected, that his moves in themselves were purely political and therefore devoid of justice. Others would say he only sought to protect Harry Potter because of the friendship between them. And others would be outraged if he didn’t protect Harry.

            On the other hand, letting a friend go to Azkaban and letting Diggory and the Malfoys get away with something like this were things Kingsley wouldn’t want to happen either.

            Kingsley lifted his eyes at last. “Willowberry,” he said. “Take Mr. Potter to a holding cell. And ask your Aurors not to talk about this arrest until we have more complete data.”

            Harry could feel Willowberry’s spine stiffening. “You can’t hide news of this magnitude, sir,” he said. “It’s already out. And forgive me, but I do think the people have a right to know a creature as dangerous as this was walking among them.”

            Yes, Willowberry can indeed be very annoying without being against me specifically, Harry thought, and resisted the urge to rub his forehead.

            “Then you will instruct the Aurors not to allow anyone access to Mr. Potter without written permission from me,” Kingsley said, his voice so calm Harry thought this might have been his plan all along. “This is the sort of case that could become ugly very quickly, and I will not have anyone in our custody abused.”

            “Excuse me, sir,” Willowberry said, “but other prisoners aren’t granted such special treatment. If someone wants to see Mr. Potter—“

            “Other prisoners are not in such danger.” Kingsley turned to stare at Willowberry, and Harry would not have wanted to be the Auror at that moment. “Or do you think that all prisoners who are the possible targets of vengeance should also be left open to murder or curses before they go to trial?”

            Harry hid his smile by bowing his head in mock humility. Willowberry sighed, but didn’t voice another objection. “It shall be as you said, sir,” he muttered mournfully.

            “Very good.” Kingsley turned back to Harry, who lifted his head when he felt the Minister’s eyes on him. Kingsley’s mouth was tucked down in a frown, but Harry flattered himself there was contemplation in that expression, not just anger or disappointment in him. Hopefully he realized that the situation was not entirely Harry’s fault. If Harry had turned himself in—assuming he’d known about this law at all, or agreed it was his responsibility to do so—he would have been doing Diggory’s work for him. “Go with Willowberry, Mr. Potter, and I do hope that the trial itself involves less trouble.”

            “So do I, sir,” Harry said honestly, and stood up to walk beside Willowberry, so that the Auror wouldn’t have an excuse to drag him along by one arm.

*

            Granger arrived at Harry’s flat first, but not much before Millicent. Draco had barely had time to tell the Muggleborn Harry was in trouble before someone else knocked. He aimed his wand at the door and said conversationally, “What was the first reason that you decided to prank Daphne Greengrass instead of Pansy Parkinson?”

            “Daphne was beautiful and knew it,” came the prompt response. “And she told me that I was a child of trolls and shouldn’t think I was fooling anyone by dressing up in human robes.”

            Draco chuckled grimly and relaxed the wards. Millicent stepped into the flat and shut the door behind her, scanning the corridor slowly, before turning around.

            Draco glanced back and forth between Granger and Millicent, then stepped prudently out of the space between them, in case their locked stares actually set the air on fire.

            Granger obviously recognized Millicent. She was bristling like a cat confronted with a stranger nonetheless, her fingers twitching on her wand as though she’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. She didn’t spit, but only because she had more dignity than that, Draco thought.

            Millicent raised an eyebrow and studied Granger with more interest. Nevertheless, she did move her left hand in a particular gesture Draco recognized from their schooldays. She would have something beyond her wand up her sleeve, and she was moving it into position for throwing.

            “You didn’t tell me this was your extra help,” Granger said at last, her voice deeper than usual, her gaze never wavering from Millicent.

            “A nice way to refer to someone with the money and some of the contacts to help get Potter out of Azkaban,” said Millicent. Her smile widened across her face, and her left hand stopped its soft rolls, though Draco didn’t know why she’d decided Granger wasn’t threatening. She probably would have looked warier if she’d seen Granger torturing Theodore Nott.

            “I have my own contacts in the Ministry,” Granger said stiffly. “And a good knowledge of magical law. I think I can rescue Harry by myself.”

            “Oh, come, Granger,” said Millicent, and she didn’t sneer on the name, to her credit. Draco thought he probably would have, in her position. “I thought Gryffindors were all about teamwork and cooperation.”

            “School was a long time ago,” Granger said.

            “Indeed.” Millicent stood straighter now, and her voice had become clipped. “So I’d appreciate it if you stop treating me as though I were going to insult you any moment. I’ve poured money and time into the Desire potion already. I won’t give that up easily. I’ll help rescue Potter, and yes, it will be easier with me along. Otherwise, I’ll just have to act independently, and we’d get in each other’s way. Stop thinking you need to be the only intelligent witch present.”

            A dull flush crept along Granger’s cheeks, making Draco wonder if Millicent’s words were on-target. She cleared her throat and turned to look at Draco. “I know the law they arrested Harry under,” she said. “It was clever of your parents to use it.” Draco smiled wryly. She hadn’t even thought it might be someone other than his parents who had arranged Harry’s arrest. Of course, Harry would have owled her about Lucius and Narcissa’s possessing the memories of the moments when Harry devoured Daphne’s magic. “But it’s not perfect. Getting a conviction under it for a human is nearly impossible. After all, the usual definition of ‘being’ includes those who are not human. And even if they insist on testing Harry, they’re not going to discover that he’s part-Dementor or anything of the sort. If he had Veela blood, he might be in trouble.”

            Draco nodded, narrowing his eyes. “I couldn’t believe my parents wouldn’t have known that. They must have hoped for a delaying tactic rather than permanently taking Harry out of the game.”

            “Yes,” Millicent said abruptly. “And I think Lucius wanted to show you what would happen to someone who opposed him, Draco.” She had an expression on her face that might have been a smile, except smiles usually curved the lips instead of twisting them. “Well. I can think of ways to make him sorry he’s allied with Diggory. Should we approach the Ministry?”

            Draco glanced at Granger. She was staring at Millicent again, but this time the stare seemed to have an evaluative edge to it, as if she found herself reluctantly forced to acknowledge her rival might have a point.

            Then she caught Draco’s eyes, and jerked her head down in a sharp nod.

            “Let’s,” Draco said.

*

            Mangacat: Thanks very much! The sex felt sort of awkward to me; glad you found it hot.

            Thrnbrooke, avihenda: Thanks for reviewing!

            Yume111: Draco is more exasperated at his mother’s obstinacy, at this point. Things would be much easier if she would just listen, but she doesn’t want to.

            Harry has sort of forgotten how to be passionate. And Draco is different from any other person he’s made love to. He’ll probably relearn it after a bit.

            I doubt Draco ever lets go. His analysis is part of who he is. He can blow up the way he did at his parents’ party, but even that is a conscious decision to say some things rather than others, and he didn’t go so far as to start hexing everyone who moved.

            And thank you very much for the compliments!
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A More Worldly Man