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Corybantes	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9767 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter
Ten�Conversations and Recoveries

�� Harry woke
so slowly that at first he couldn�t distinguish the dream from the reality. He
had dreamed of lying on something soft, with warm arms around him. He would
have been content to stay in that world for longer than his mind wanted him to.
It was close to some of the fantasies he�d had, close to some of the gentler
dreams, and he knew he wouldn�t find anything like that in the real world.

�� But when he
did finally open his eyes and focus blearily on the wall opposite him, he found
that the soft thing had accompanied him. He ran his hand over blankets that
someone had Transfigured and blinked. The spring that usually pressed into his
back was gone. The pillows behind his head felt more yielding, too.

�� And though
there were no warm arms wrapped around him, there was a warm hand resting on
his shoulder.

�� Harry
turned his head, shivering. The hand ended an arm, and the arm extended up to a
body, and the body turned out to belong to Draco Malfoy, who was sitting in a
chair next to his bed. Harry thought dazedly that he looked too fresh to have
been sitting in the chair all night. Maybe he�d had monitoring charms that
alerted him when Harry moved. Harry stared at him and said nothing. The
remembrance of what had happened between them last night dried most of the
saliva in his throat.

�� Hullo,�
Malfoy said quietly. �I hope that you feel well enough to sit up and eat a
sandwich. Do you?�

�� I thought
toast was more traditional for breakfast.� Harry could hardly keep track of
what he was saying. The words simply seemed to tumble out of his mouth.

�� So it
would be,� Malfoy said, his voice warmer now, �but seeing as it�s nearly noon,
I thought you might prefer to have lunch instead.�

�� Harry
winced and struggled to sit up. Even though he�d remembered that Kingsley had
sacked him and so he didn�t have to be to work on time, he still found the
thought of lying around while other people were up and about disturbing. Too
self-indulgent. And when he was self-indulgent, bad things happened.

�� You didn�t
have to make me lunch,� he muttered, looking down at his hands. More and more
memories struck him every moment, burning like cinders. He flinched when he
recalled that he�d shed at least a few tears on Malfoy�s shoulder.

�� He knew he
had to repair the barriers that had held him away from the rest of the world,
because there was no way that he could live with this sickening vulnerability.
He just didn�t know how to repair
them.

�� Malfoy
placed a hand beneath Harry�s chin and tilted his head up. Harry stiffened in
shock as Malfoy slipped his glasses over his face. It hadn�t occurred to him
that Malfoy would touch him like that. Comforting and soothing was one thing,
but the hands that helped him out of bed now felt�authoritative.

�� Harry
swallowed down his completely inappropriate reaction and tried to stand on his
own. His body wasn�t really weak, he thought, just groggy from his long sleep.
�You didn�t have to make me lunch,� he repeated, because he hadn�t seen or
heard any response from Malfoy the last time he said it.

�� I know
that,� Malfoy said. His voice was too close to Harry�s ear, but if he noticed
the shiver that sped down Harry�s body, he was much too polite to mention it.
�I did it because it�s my pleasure. I know that you�ll need some time to
recover and decide what to do with yourself, and I won�t pressure you to
fulfill the rest of my fantasies right now. But helping you, advising you if I
can, making sure that you don�t slip back into the automatic responses that you
showed before�yes, that will please me.�

�� But you
don�t have to,� was all Harry could
think of to say. Most of his attention was taken up with the fact that it
sounded as if Malfoy wouldn�t let him become the person that he needed to
become again.

�� Malfoy
simply shook his head and then urged him into one of his kitchen chairs. Harry
sat down in self-defense and reached for the sandwich that Malfoy handed him. Biting
into it nearly choked him, there was so much cheese and ham and pickles piled
on it. Harry licked his lips to get rid of some of the juice and gave Malfoy a
glance that he knew he was incredulous. He didn�t care. If Malfoy had killed
Keatson with strange magic, obviously he didn�t mind trying more mundane means
on Harry.

�� Malfoy
frowned. �Don�t you like it? I assumed that you liked all these ingredients
since you had them here, but perhaps I was wrong.� He looked thoughtful. �I
don�t know that much about making things from scratch, since the house-elves do
so much for me. For you, I�d be willing to try, but that doesn�t mean my first
effort was any good.�

�� The
thoughtful look and the near-apology�as well as the implication that Malfoy
could admit his own mistakes�made Harry feel as if he�d fallen straight back
into the surreal mood from last night. He took a smaller bite of the sandwich,
chewed a few times to work it down his throat, and then laid the sandwich back
on the plate. �I appreciate it, Malfoy,� he said. �The sandwich is fine. But I
think that you need to go back to your club now, and I need to go back to my
investigation.�

�� For long
moments, Malfoy did nothing but survey him. Harry felt a flush mount his
cheeks. Did he have more pickle juice on his face?

�� But he knew
it came from a deeper source than that. No one needed to look at him that intensely, with an expression that said
he cared about the smallest things Harry did and experienced. He wanted it to
happen, but that was one more selfish desire that could be stuffed under the surface
and ignored.

�� The moment
he got past the�fall that had happened to him last night.

�� Listen,
Malfoy,� he said, and ate another bite of the sandwich. �I appreciate that you
were there for me. I needed someone who was.� Malfoy gave him a smile that Harry
had to look away from. �But you�re right that I don�t trust you enough to let
you into my mind and start describing all my faults to you.�

�� That�s far
from the first time you�ve acted as if you�re horribly twisted and wrong for
having fantasies,� Malfoy said, his voice less tense than Harry would have
expected. �Why? I know that you�re disgusted by Corybantes, but you seem to be
harsher on yourself than on people who want to experience sex with their mirror
image or have a dozen people kneeling to them and worshipping them.�

�� Those
people are�ordinary,� Harry said, after a long struggle that he hoped would let
him find a better word. Nothing came to mind. �Not Aurors with lives depending
on what they do during their cases. I don�t mind if they want to indulge
themselves, as long as I don�t have to watch it.�

�� But why is
it wrong or disgusting to indulge fantasies in the first place?� Malfoy�s chair
creaked as he leaned forwards. Harry still refused to look at him, but he could
tell what he was doing. �That�s what I want to know.�

�� It shows
that you�ve lost control,� Harry said. He was fumbling for words again, but how
could he help it? After all, he had said that he didn�t want to trust Malfoy
with his secrets, and he couldn�t explain his reluctance without explaining the
cases he had been involved in, the cases that had taught him to hate the corruption
most people carried around in the depths of their minds. He thought a moment,
and then smiled. Maybe Malfoy would understand this comparison. After all, even
in Corybantes people seemed to perform their most sexual acts in private rooms,
not in the entrance hall.

�� It�s like
masturbating in public,� he said, looking at Malfoy triumphantly. �You wouldn�t
want to watch someone doing that, would you?�

�� Malfoy�s
eyes widened, his pupils dilating. �For me,� he said, voice deep, �it would
depend entirely on who was doing the wanking.�

�� Harry
caught a glimpse of what he thought Malfoy was thinking�not because he was good
at Legilimency, just because it was clearly written all over his face. He had
some idea about Harry masturbating. He probably thought Harry did it wildly,
jerking himself with quick and painful motions, his head tilted back and one
hand clapped over his mouth to stifle his moans�

��

�� Harry
turned away again, his face painfully flushed.

�� But that�s
what it�s like for me,� he mumbled, though he had little hope that Malfoy would
pay attention to him. �I don�t want other people to see me masturbate, and I
don�t want to walk in on them doing it. It�s so private. Why would you want someone else to see you doing that? I
don�t�I don�t get that.�

�� Malfoy said
nothing for long minutes. Harry continued eating the sandwich. Once again, as
had happened last night when he said that he hated himself, his words were
echoing in his mind, and he thought of the many ways that Malfoy could take
them. None of them were ways that Harry wanted them to be taken. It would
probably sound like he was a prude or repressed, and that wasn�t true.

�� Lovers probably watch each other wanking all
the time.

�� Harry shook
his head and reached for the next sandwich Malfoy had made, a much smaller one
with corned beef on it. His jaws were grateful that they wouldn�t have to
stretch around another huge gulp of food, he thought wryly.

�� Harry.�
Malfoy spoke quietly. Harry grunted to show that he was listening, but didn�t
turn to look at him. �I meant what I said. I want you to have the time and
space away from me to work these things out if you need to. At the same time,
I�m not sure that anyone else would have the zeal to dig under the layers of
deception that you�re setting up to safeguard yourself.�

�� Harry
whipped around then, and winced as a piece of corned beef flew away from a
bitten corner of the sandwich and hit Malfoy�s face. Malfoy wiped it off with a
napkin. Harry whispered, �Sorry.� Then he remembered why he had turned around
in the first place, and snapped, �I�m not lying.�

�� Not
consciously,� Malfoy said. �I know that. And your lies are good enough that
someone else, like a Mind-Healer, might be fooled by them. They�re certainly
good enough to fool you. But do you
remember what you said last night? You hate yourself.� His voice fell to a
whisper that Harry inched towards him to listen for. When Harry realized what
he had done, he was disgusted with himself, but Malfoy�s words captured his
attention again. �That�s not normal. You can feel disgusted by other people�s
public display of sexuality without having any problems with your own, but it�s
all too clear that you do. And with
your ability and right to indulge in pleasure in general. I think some of your
fantasies aren�t sexual, but you feel just as uncomfortable with them, don�t
you?�

�� Harry shut
his eyes. Malfoy�s words had got into his head, and rattled around the center
of his skull. No matter how many different explanations he thought of to put
Malfoy off and challenge his interpretations, he knew that none of them would
convince someone determined to disbelieve them.

�� More than
that, Harry no longer thought that he could believe those explanations himself.

�� He
swallowed. No. No, I really think that
the shameless indulgence I see from so many people is disgusting.

�� But was
self-loathing really a sane response to that?

�� I don�t
want to answer that,� he said, and his voice snapped and rasped like a claw
along stone. �I don�t have to answer that.�

�� No, you
don�t,� Malfoy said quietly, and then stood. Harry opened his eyes and watched
him from behind his last sandwich as Malfoy went into the kitchen and opened
the cupboards. When it looked as if he was making himself soup, Harry sat up,
frowning. After the resignation in Malfoy�s voice, he had thought the git would
leave.

�� If you
know that I won�t talk to you about this,� he asked, �then why don�t you go
back to Corybantes? I�m sure there are clients there who need you.� He clamped
his mouth shut the moment he had spoken the last words, because they came out
with shocking bitterness, and he didn�t want to think of why.

�� My
employees know how to handle Corybantes in my absence,� Malfoy said. He was
smiling as he cast a Warming Charm on the soup, and then a charm that Harry
didn�t know but which seemed to stir it at high speed. �I think Shadow was
rather relieved, actually. She doesn�t want me in Corybantes trying to attend
to clients and decide whether certain dangerous people should be allowed in
when she knows that I�m stewing about you.�

�� But you
could leave for other reasons,� Harry said, thrown off again. �I won�t give you
what you want, so there�s no reason for you to stay.�

�� Malfoy
paused for a moment, though all he had been doing was leaning on the counter
and watching as the invisible spoon of his magic sped around and around the
bowl of soup. Then he looked up and straight at Harry. Harry shuddered back
from what he saw in his eyes and dropped his gaze to the table.

�� Would you
say something like that to your friends?� Malfoy asked. Harry both longed and
dreaded to hear a sneer in his voice, because of what it would mean, but Malfoy
sounded gentle and tragic and tired. �Would you assume that anyone who wanted to share your life and
help you would only do so as long as you would gratify them?�

�� Harry
swallowed around a tongue that felt too large. Even suggesting something like
that was unfair and disloyal to Ron and Hermione. He knew it. But they were
friends from Hogwarts, and anyone he�d made friends with more recently seemed
unlikely to stay with him just because he needed help.

�� But why? his inconvenient curiosity,
which Malfoy seemed to have stimulated, asked a moment later. Why should the friends you made at Hogwarts
and the friends you made later in your life be so different? You know that
there�s no rational reason for that difference.

�� Harry
leaned back in his chair and took a long, careful breath. He felt as if he was
about to fall apart again. The pieces of his brain trembled in his brain. He would lose control of
them if he moved. He had to sit still.

�� Harry? Are
you all right?� Malfoy came up behind him, soft-footed so that Harry didn�t
hear him until it was too late to hide the expression on his face, and laid his
hand on Harry�s shoulder.

�� Harry
caught his breath, and knew it was on the edge of tears. He turned around,
intending to get up and flee to his bedroom.

�� Malfoy
caught him and steered him back into the chair. Harry put his hands over his
face. Malfoy didn�t try to remove them, but shoved his own chair close and sat
there with his arms around Harry. Harry took slow, deep breaths, furious with
himself for collapsing twice in twenty-four hours.

�� And for no good reason. Malfoy wasn�t
threatening him; Harry even half-believed him when he claimed that he didn�t
want to force Harry to talk. He�d made lunch for him and stayed with Harry
during the night. Harry knew better than to think there was anything diabolical
or inhuman in all that. Malfoy might still have diabolical motives, but they weren�t coming out in his actions.

�� Yet Harry
sat there, on the edge of breaking down, trembling as though someone had
tortured him�yes, it was like the Dreisenberg and Coli cases�his defenses
breaking, his mind on the verge of shattering, his sensibilities punished.

�� Hating
himself.

�� Harry knew
the answer, then, and he stopped shaking to consider it. Malfoy only moved
closer, his voice a formless murmur as he wrapped his arm around Harry�s
shoulders. Harry was too involved in the thought of what was happening to him
to resent the gesture, and he leaned on Malfoy�s shoulder before he thought
about it.

�� The
thoughts in his head were too large to leave room for anything else.

�� Malfoy was right. Hating himself for having
fantasies and emotions and lacking superhuman control wasn�t a normal response,
and it was a stupid one. Harry had felt that last night; now he was thinking
through it rationally.

�� He hated
what was happening to him, but the easiest way to face it was to go through it
instead of trying to ignore it, because it just threatened his control again
when he ignored it. He could face it, and trample through it, and beat it down,
and stop letting himself react this way.

�� If he
acknowledged that Malfoy was right, and that he was sick and tired of
chastising himself for mistakes that weren�t mistakes to anyone else.

�� Harry
shivered. The hard part was that he would need to trust someone else with his
fantasies if he was going to do this. He didn�t need to do them, but he needed to at least discuss them. And that would mean giving the other person a chance
to laugh at him.

�� Talking to
Malfoy might actually be an advantage, though. He had probably seen worse fantasies. Looking at his desires as he clearly
could with his reluctance still in the way, Harry had to admit that what he
wanted wasn�t so unusual or strange or repulsive.

�� Maybe. It would depend on what he says.

�� One thing
was sure: Harry would rather talk to Malfoy, who ran a club and was used to
negotiating with his clients over how to fulfill fantasies that might hurt them
or someone else, than he would a Mind-Healer. And talking to Ron and Hermione
about things like this was impossible if he ever wanted to look them in the eye
again. Harry cleared his throat and shifted his head, hoping that Malfoy would
let him up.

�� He did. He
watched Harry with the same gentle eyes and smile as before. Harry stared back
and saw the sharp glint under the surface of those eyes for the first time.
Malfoy was concerned about him, but he was trying hard not to show it more than
he already had. Harry wondered if that was delicacy or common sense. After all,
Harry hadn�t exactly acted grateful for everything he had done so far.

�� Harry spent
a few minutes thinking carefully about how to phrase this. Then he said,
�I�reckon you�re right about at least one thing. Trying to act like everything
is normal and I can go on as I have been doesn�t work. I was on the verge of a
breakdown just now, and I wasn�t even sure why.�

�� Malfoy
snorted. �Finally,� he said, the word
seeming to burst out of him as if he�d been repressing it as much as Harry had
been trying to repress his emotions. When Harry frowned at him, he grimaced and
shook his head. �Forgive me,� he murmured, lifting a hand so that he could
stroke Harry�s hair. Harry let his eyes fall shut and struggled to keep from
moaning. Just having someone touch him gently like that was one of his minor
desires. �But yes, it�s not going to work, Harry. The only question is who
you�d prefer to have help you. There are Mind-Healers in St. Mungo�s that
you�ve worked with before, I know. Would you like one of them? Shacklebolt may
have alerted them already.�

�� No,� Harry
said. �I can�t talk about this with a stranger.� He grabbed the flimsy sort of
courage that was the only kind he had left these days and looked Malfoy in the
face. �I�d like to talk about this with you.�

�� Malfoy
blinked several times, then shut his eyes and bowed his head. His hands moved
to Harry�s shoulders and tightened there. �Don�t say this if you don�t mean it,
Harry,� he whispered. �I�ve longed to hear you say that, but I would rather you
do what�s best for you. Don�t dangle hope in front of me and then yank it
away.�

�� Is that
what you feel like I did?� Harry whispered.

�� Malfoy
shook his head. �Not consciously. I know that you couldn�t help it, that you
were suffering. But I�ve wanted to help you, to heal you, to care for you and
have you care for me for so long, and I thought I would get the chance when you
came to Corybantes to investigate Keatson�s death.� He stiffened for a moment,
probably because he thought Harry would pull away from him when he mentioned
the case, but Harry stayed still and Malfoy let out a shaky breath. �I want to
know if this is the real thing or not.�

�� It�s the
real thing,� Harry said, as solemnly and as truthfully as he could.

�� Malfoy
leaned forwards, slowly enough that Harry had plenty of time to withdraw if he
wanted, and pressed his lips against Harry�s jawbone. He withdrew a moment
later and said, �You don�t know what this means to me, but I�ll try to show
you.� Already his eyes were brighter and his movements more confident. Harry
smiled back at him. This was one of the best cures he could have, he thought.
Helping Malfoy meant he didn�t feel entirely useless and as if he was a
parasite sucking the life out of other people. �Now. I need to speak to you
honestly if you can, Harry.� His voice dropped into sweetness on the last word,
making Harry shiver. �What is it that makes you so frightened of losing
control? I thought at first that perhaps your magic had gone wild and killed
someone else, but I know that your first partner didn�t die from that.�

�� My first
partner died because I made stupid mistakes,� Harry said thickly. He closed his
eyes against the flood of memories, and felt his mind shake and quiver again.
This was going to be hard, not easy, he reminded himself, against the
temptation to keep both eyes and mouth shut and not say anymore. �I�I�ve
suffered through cases where I lost control.�

�� What
happened?� Malfoy�s voice was pitched as if he wanted to hypnotize Harry, and
he started stroking the back of his neck.

�� I was
tortured,� Harry said. Malfoy�s hand faltered once, then resumed the stroking
in a pattern that made Harry�s muscles relax. �And once I was undercover
working with a cult, and I nearly became one of them. And I know Occlumency
because of a case where a Dark wizard invaded my mind with Legilimency. I
thought I had to be controlled,
because otherwise I couldn�t keep my job. And then I started to feel that
losing control was unnatural and wrong.�

�� There�s
nothing unnatural about losing control under torture,� Malfoy declared. Now his
voice was rough.

�� I know
that.� Harry opened his eyes against the temptation to keep them closed. �But I
didn�t feel that. It�s like the
difference between knowing and feeling you were right. I have to have both of
them in conjunction, or I can�t act.�

�� Malfoy fell
silent, though his hand never ceased moving. Then he said, �Do you think it�s
too early for me to try to fulfill one of your fantasies, Harry? A small one,�
he added hastily, when Harry opened his mouth to protest. �Just a small one, so
you can pull back easily if you feel like you�re losing control.�

�� If we do
that,� Harry said, feeling compelled to warn him, �it might open the
floodgates. I don�t know if I could rest content with you fulfilling just one.
I might demand more from you.�

�� Malfoy gave
him a bright smile. �But that�s just what I want, Harry.�

�� Harry felt
his will tremble again, but this time with a different purpose. He had fought
so long against surrendering, seizing tools from his principles and his magic
and his circumstances as an Auror.

�� But if his
surrender was going to happen, it should happen in front of someone he
partially trusted and could at least escape than in front of a powerful,
enraged Dark wizard.

�� And�darkest
of dark secrets, churning out of him like a monster out of a dark cave�

�� He wanted to surrender. He was so tired.

�� All
right,� he whispered. �All right.�

�� Malfoy
lifted his hands to Harry�s cheeks and stroked them, his fingers widespread to
touch many small places on Harry�s skin at once, for an answer.

*

�� hieisdragoness18:
Yeah, he couldn�t have done this on his own.

�� MewMew2:
Yes, and it�s not getting restored any time soon.

�� mariahs_fantasy:
Thank you so much! I�m glad Harry�s moment seemed plausible for you, as one of the
pitfalls of people identifying with the character is that they�ll want to stay
with the old perspective instead of changing it.

�� Yeah, Draco
isn�t crazy. He is intense, and I would say obsessed, but he doesn�t come up
with the kind of self-denying mechanisms that Harry does, and he can act
differently around different people. Harry acted the same way towards everyone.

�� callistianstar:
Thanks! I think Chapter 8 showed Harry headed toward a breakdown, but not this
clearly.

�� puresilver:
�Harry accepts that he needs help now! I
don�t know if I would say he�s crazy, but he�ll try to heal.
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Corybantes