Providence | By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 15841 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
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Chapter Eleven—What
Harry Potter Argued
“I’m sorry
to see you leaving us so soon, Mr. Potter.”
Harry
smiled tightly at the Spanish liaison assigned to him, now that Rodrigo had
made it clear he wouldn’t work with Harry any more. He was a perfectly nice man
with the first names of Juan Felipe—Harry couldn’t remember his surnames at the
moment—but he had keen brown eyes that made Harry feel as if he were being
scrutinized to be chopped up into Potions ingredients. He’d had enough of that
when he was still a student in Snape’s class.
“Well,
urgent business calls me back to Britain,” he said brightly, and stepped away
from the desk behind which Juan Felipe sat. Urgent
business, ha. I want to get out of here before I explode at someone.
It didn’t
help that in the last day, he’d got very little sleep—thanks to Draco’s
insistence on taking the bed and his own inability to conjure a good
replacement bed out of the floor—and that Draco had made several remarks about
blood status that caused Harry to grit his teeth. It seemed Draco had changed
his mind about fewer things than Harry thought.
This is never going to work. We’re never
going to survive.
But Juan
Felipe didn’t need to know about any of that, so Harry turned his back on him
and started to walk away.
“Is that
why another Auror showed up to retrieve you, the evening before yesterday?”
Juan Felipe called, leaning out after him.
Harry choked
on hysterical laughter. Yes, Draco is an
Auror. Because part of an Auror’s duty is to curse people who displease him. But
it was simpler to have other people think that, so Harry simply shrugged and
ducked out of the office into the hot bright day.
He couldn’t
enjoy the sight of the buildings—now more advanced than he’d seen them when he
first came to Madrid—or the billowing pavilions the way he might have a few
days ago. Draco’s face obscured everything, and his drawling voice overpowered
even the sound of Hammering Charms.
Of course I wouldn’t expect someone like
Granger to understand that, with her blood. Blood runs to the brain.
Have you considered how lucky you are, that one of your parents was someone?
Blood traitor? You ought to know what it
means by now, Potter, but I’m willing to explain it to you. It means someone
who literally turns their back on their own blood, the most important thing of
all. You can betray principles and people and still have a place of honor, but
to betray what runs in your own veins… And Draco had finished with a solemn
headshake that made Harry want to grip and shake him.
He despises me and my best friends, as well
as half the people who work at the Ministry, since they’re all either
Muggleborns or committed to making things work with the Muggle world. What
makes him think that he can get away with saying that to me? He was more polite
to random people who wanted money from him.
And then
Harry paused, leaned against a building façade to watch the architects
levitating a ton of stone above his head, and swore softly.
He was polite to them because he thought it
would damage his reputation if the news that he still hated Muggleborns got
out, and they were strangers who cared nothing about him and might try to hurt
him. But he believes that I won’t do anything to him because I’m in love with
him.
Harry
snorted under his breath and began to walk more swiftly towards the house where
Draco still waited. (It was with difficulty that Harry had persuaded him out of
coming to the Ministry; he seemed to assume that Rodrigo would try to pounce on
Harry the moment he was out of Draco’s sight). If it were just him Draco was
hurting, he might hesitate, yes. But this had the potential to hurt his best
friends.
And if Draco thinks I’ll give them up just
to have him, he’s having problems
with the connections between his blood and his brain.
*
Something
had changed in the time Potter was gone.
Draco
scowled as they went through the last Apparition and landed outside the London
Ministry with a slight bump. I should
have put the spy spell on him after all. That will show me to be too trusting.
Potter
stood looking at him with concentrated attention of the kind that Draco didn’t
like for a long moment, then turned towards the phonebox that would give them
entrance into the Ministry. Draco followed closely. Potter didn’t acknowledge
him one way or the other. Even when they rode the phonebox down and emerged
into the Atrium, Potter kept walking as if he had devastatingly handsome men at
his heels all the time.
Draco felt
jealousy waver up through him like the smoke from a bonfire. Potter was able to
sustain attraction to men, as Draco had seen in Spain; it wasn’t like Draco was
the only one he’d ever looked at with admiration. And it was ridiculous to
expect him to stay celibate and faithful to the image of Draco for two years, especially when his letters plot
proved that he hadn’t ever expected a chance.
He might
have dated other men. Some other men might have had him, or even walked in
Draco’s exact same position.
That took
Draco’s attention away from Potter’s arse, which he otherwise would have been
watching. He jogged up to Potter’s shoulder and hissed in his ear.
“Have you
had a boyfriend?”
Potter
slewed him a look of astonished disgust. “Do you really think the Prophet would have left me alone if I
had?” he responded, never breaking stride.
Draco
dropped back with a small frown. Yes, I
forgot that. Rita Skeeter, at least, who had been so insistent on naming
any woman whom Potter spent time with as his girlfriend, would doubtless pounce
on the news that the Chosen One was homosexual.
He was
angry with himself for forgetting that, and it made him step up closer to
Potter when they got on the lift with another Auror—tall, handsome, dark hair
and eyes—who smiled at Potter and started a conversation about some obscure
criminological matter. That man looked at Draco and dismissed him with a single
glance as someone who couldn’t possibly be interested in their chatter. Draco
half-lidded his eyes to conceal the rising rage.
He wasn’t
sure that he wanted anyone else to know he was dating Potter yet, but he had to
stake his claim somehow. He rested a hand on Potter’s arse and kept it there,
out of sight of the dark-haired bloke, spreading his fingers and then relaxing
them in a gripping, squeezing pattern.
Potter
tensed, but didn’t otherwise respond. When they reached the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement, he did make a point of moving away from Draco as soon
as possible.
Draco
followed him, calmer now. Potter could be discreet when the moment called for
it. Draco was glad to know that, as it destroyed several dangerous scenarios
that had been building up in his mind.
“Back,
then, Harry?” Kingsley Shacklebolt still had piercing eyes, but that was less
troubling than the way he looked from Draco to Harry with barely concealed
amusement.
Potter put
his report on the table and began talking in a monotone. Draco leaned against
the wall, arms folded, and met Shacklebolt’s stare without flinching whenever
the man had the nerve to look at him.
He couldn’t
wait to get Potter out of the Ministry and into the Manor. Potter was too
comfortable here and had too obvious a familiarity with the ground. Draco
wanted the walls of his own home around him, and privacy for such sharp,
drawling words as he was pleased to speak.
He wasn’t
insensible. A coldness had fallen between them since the day before yesterday,
when they’d made such sweet promises to each other. But Draco didn’t intend to
give up that sense of rich life without a fight.
And then
they stepped out of the Minister’s office and ran straight into Weasley.
*
Harry
sighed silently as Ron saw him. His friend smiled and stretched out his hand.
“Oi, Harry, we’ve been lonely without you for the last—”
Then his
eyes focused on Draco, and they narrowed, and the last traces of pleasantness
were swept away. Maybe Ron could deal with Draco when he was alone and asking
questions about bouncing ferrets, but seeing him walking behind Harry was
another thing altogether. And Harry knew that Ron still retained some trace of
his old fear that Harry would abandon him for a different, richer set of
friends.
Harry
turned adroitly so that his body was between them and said, “Ron, you know
Draco Malfoy, of course. Draco, you know Ron Weasley.” He tilted his head back
towards Draco and gave him a cold-as-glass look, so that he would know how he
was expected to behave.
He’d done
his work well, because Draco liked to set the tone of conversations. On the
other hand, if someone had said something that should prevent a confrontation,
then Draco wasn’t gauche enough to start one. He glared back at Harry and held
out his hand so that Ron could clasp it.
Ron looked
almost ill, but at least he did it. Then he turned to Harry and said loudly, “I
need to talk you to about important Auror business.”
“Anything
you can say in front of Harry, you can say in front of me.” Draco’s voice was
all polite courtesy, but the hand he laid on Harry’s arse was anything but.
Harry held
his face still with an effort. What is he
playing at? He must know that Ron isn’t interested in dating me. Not that
nearly as many people are interested in dating me as he thinks.
“No, I
really can’t,” Ron said, his temper smoldering like a brushfire in his gaze.
“It’s also private Auror business.”
Harry knew
that Draco had widened his eyes, even though he wasn’t looking at him right
now, because that was in his tone. “But Harry and I are dating now, and I know
that he’s an Auror and does dangerous things. Don’t you think I have the right
to hear how dangerous they are, in case I lose my boyfriend?”
Oh, that’s torn it now, Harry thought in
resignation as Ron took a step closer and thrust his face right into Harry’s. Draco doesn’t like to start confrontations,
but of course he can manipulate people into doing it.
“You’re dating the prick?” Ron whispered to him.
“What about Ginny?”
“Are you
going to allow him to insult me, Harry?” Draco murmured into his ear at the
same moment.
Harry badly
wanted to smash both their heads together, but he preferred a direct answer, so
he launched into it without waiting. “I gave up on Ginny a long time ago, Ron,
and she gave up on me. She’s happy the way she is. When she wants to date
someone, then she will. And I’ve been in love with Draco for two years. I’ll
thank you not to insult him.”
Ron blinked
at him. Harry could feel Draco’s smugness in the way he pressed closer to Harry
from behind. He thought he’d won because Harry had taken the time to address Ron.
He fails to realize that I’m only addressing
Ron first, Harry thought, and turned around. “And he has no reason not to
insult you, not when you think he’s a blood traitor,” Harry said. “Really,
Draco, I don’t know why you want to stay with me. You’ve made it clear in the
last few days that you think I’m nothing more than a half-blood who’s lucky to
have a chance with a fine specimen of pure-blood masculinity like yourself.” He
said the last phrase in an absolutely flat and neutral tone, which he knew
would drive Draco mad. “You hate my friends, including my Muggleborn best friend, simply because of the families they were
born into. If you want me, that will have to change. You’ll probably say that
you shouldn’t have to change your beliefs for me, but the belief that other
people are rubbish? That’s worth changing. That’s worth challenging. I’ll try
to respect your other beliefs, but I can’t respect you for that one. And I care
enough about you to want this
relationship to succeed, so no, I will not just keep quiet and then burst out
scolding you one day.”
There. Clear, calm, powerful delivery,
and fast enough that neither Draco nor Ron had the chance to interrupt. Harry
fastened his gaze on Draco’s face and waited.
*
That’s what’s bothering him? Of all the
stupid—
But Draco
caught his temper and threw it backwards when he saw the way Potter’s eyes were
narrowing. Obviously, to Potter, this was not a stupid objection, and Draco had
not made his reputation as someone who could coexist with Muggleborns by disregarding
his opponents’ convictions. And he had to remember how long Potter had watched
him, how well he knew the subtlest expressions of Draco’s face. He might detect
contempt that an ordinary observer would not.
Draco
lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. He would wait a few moments, until the
impact of Potter’s speech had faded and he would not look as if he had an immediate reaction at all. Many people were
impressed by the appearance of thoughtfulness. Potter would expect that at the
bare minimum from him.
Weasley
interrupted, loud and braying, before Draco could marshal his words. “Why would
you give him a chance at all if he thinks that, Harry?” he asked furiously,
shouldering towards Potter, who now stood with his back to him. He put a hand
on Potter’s shoulder and shook it. Draco had to repress an immediate snarl. No one should touch him as roughly as that
but me. “Just ditch the bastard and have done with it.”
“No,”
Potter said, and stepped forwards until Weasley’s hand slipped off. He seemed
to feel neither fear nor elation at being this close to Draco, but only intensity.
His eyes had never wavered. “I want him. I love him. I’ll give him a chance. He
said that he did want to have a chance to love me. But he’ll never get that if
he can’t change his mind about me and my friends.” He raised a brow. “I won’t
sleep with someone who thinks he’s slumming when he’s with me.”
“I never
thought that,” Draco snapped, stung into fury. “Why would I? Your name, your
face—”
“Aren’t
good enough reasons,” Potter said calmly. “I already know that you’re attracted
to me. That could be cause enough for some temporary fun.” The faintest flush
on his cheeks showed that he was probably remembering their encounter in the
room at Madrid, but it didn’t show in his voice. “But no more than that. If you
want more than that, you’ll have to meet and face this first test.”
Draco
thought swiftly. A mere promise not to talk about things like this around
Potter wouldn’t work. Neither would saying that he didn’t mean it that way; he’d
tried that and Potter had discarded the words the way he could an Imperius
Curse. Potter wanted something more, a revolution in Draco’s deepest beliefs.
And would that be so bad?
Draco wrinkled
his nose against the thought, but the voice of his own and his family’s advantage
was not so easily silenced. If you have children
and teach them contempt for Mudbloods, they’re likely to go to school and show
that off, the way you did when Lucius taught you. Children that young simply
don’t have much respect for propriety, even when they try. And it will be far
less easy for them to receive social advancement if they have those beliefs. It’s
a different world now than it was when you were a child, and by the time you
raise any children, it will be more different still.
Thanks in large part to Potter.
Draco
forced himself to remain still for a few moments more, not only to look as if
he would think over Potter’s words but to really think them over. And each
time, he met the same obstacle. There were several circumstances in favor of
his giving up such a belief, but he couldn’t change so fast.
And he
couldn’t abandon his pride.
He stared
into Potter’s eyes. Potter looked unsympathetic, his face stern, his eyes
almost blank with seriousness, but Draco knew better. Somebody merely asking for help was usually enough to
melt Potter’s heart.
So be honest about your objections. In the
end, Potter will help you over the barrier himself.
Draco
cleared his throat. “I simply can’t give up something I believe as if it were a
missed meal,” he said. “And you wouldn’t believe me if I claimed I could.”
A grim
smile flickered along the corners of Potter’s mouth. “Got it in one.”
Draco did
his best to ignore the mocking tone of the words. “So I’ll need time, if I do
commit to giving it up,” he said. “And there’s my pride.”
“I don’t
want you to give up your pride,” Potter said quietly.
Draco furrowed
his bow.
“I only
want you to give up your arrogance.”
Potter leaned forwards. “You can be proud of your family. I’m proud of my
parents, and especially when I remember that my mother sacrificed her life for
me, and without that none of us might be alive right now.”
A Mudblood’s sacrifice shouldn’t be strong
enough to block the most powerful Dark Lord in a hundred years. But Draco
was resigned to the fact that it had happened, no matter how much he might wish
otherwise, so he only nodded in response to Potter’s words.
“You can’t treat
others like they’re rubbish,” Potter said. “You need to respect that I have a viewpoint which won’t always
complement your own, though the women you dated in the past might have had one
like that. You need to show respect towards my friends. You need to explain any
serious objections to me, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”
“And what
will you give up in return?” Draco demanded instantly. He knew that his father
would see this as an unequal bargain, and training at home, in his House, and
during the war had ensured that Draco would never make one of those.
Potter
laughed in his face. “Find something about me that annoys you as much as your
arrogance annoys me, and which you can persuade me to give up, and then perhaps
we can bargain. Otherwise, this is simply a condition that I’m putting in
place.”
“An unfair
one,” Draco said, making one final try. “Would you demand that every pure-blood
in the world change their beliefs?”
“Not every
pure-blood,” Potter said. “Ron’s family doesn’t have those beliefs. And I think
there’s a difference between beliefs in the value of your culture and beliefs
that say other people literally aren’t human and shouldn’t be treated like they
are. There’s no reason for the last
except to puff yourself up and justify cruelty towards them.” He stepped closer
to Draco, and the intensity from before was in his face again. “Convince me
that you’re superior on your own, without denigrating others. Show me what you
can do.”
Damn him. Potter knew Draco as well as
Draco knew him. He had chosen a tactic that appealed directly to Draco’s pride.
Of course he knew that Draco would want to show him exactly why the Malfoy way
of life was so superior to the Mudblood one, and of course he knew that Draco’s
confidence he could do so was up to the challenge.
It appeals directly to my pride, Draco
thought again, and then he thought of the letters from his writer, and the
moment of lust he’d shared with Potter in the room in Madrid, which was more passionate
than anything he could remember sharing with a woman.
And it’s irresistible.
“I’ll do
it,” he said abruptly. Then he sneered at Weasley over Potter’s head. “And you
should watch out, Weasley, because by the time you get your friend back you won’t
know him anymore.”
*
Harry
couldn’t conceal his triumphant smile, so he didn’t try. He knew that Draco
hadn’t entirely surrendered; he would still try to find some excuse for calling
Hermione a Mudblood and separating Harry from his friends. But he could try all
he liked. It wasn’t as though he’d succeed
at either of those things.
“Harry—”
Ron said behind his back.
“Not right
now,” Harry said, in the same gentle, commanding tone that he’d sometimes used
to calm criminals down. Ron knew not to interfere when he heard it. Draco
sneered when he saw Ron back off, though, as though he thought Ron was some
kind of obedient slave. Harry merely smiled. He’ll learn better soon enough. “I’ll talk to you later and explain
everything, all right? But not immediately.” He looked over his shoulder at Ron
and smiled.
Ron
squinted and flushed, but nodded. Harry squeezed his arm in gratitude. He knew
that his friends would have to adjust to Draco as Draco adjusted to them, but
not as much, so Harry felt free to ask for some indulgence from them at first.
“Shall we
go?” Draco reached out an arm as if he were going to escort Harry from the
Ministry the way he would a female date, then hesitated.
Harry took the
arm, and Draco started a bit. As long as
I can keep him guessing, Harry thought happily. “Of course,” he said. “The
Manor first?” He didn’t think Draco would want to wait long to break the news
to his mother.
“Of course,”
Draco repeated, and laid his hand over Harry’s. The gesture seemed to increase
his self-confidence, if the way his eyes widened and his face flushed hungrily
was any indication. Harry barely kept from rolling his eyes. The idiot has his mind far too full of plans
for subduing me, still, instead of living with me as an equal partner.
Well. I’ll take care of that soon enough.
Harry shook
Ron’s hand, and then he and Draco paraded out of the Ministry. They received
plenty of stares and whispers, which Draco reveled in, if the smug tilt of his
head was any indication. Harry had to conceal a smile, but he was damned if he’d
show Draco that.
When they
were outside, Draco turned to face him. “The wards around the Manor prevent Apparition
by anyone except immediate family members, and I want to leave them intact, for
the sake of Mother’s safety,” he said. “So you’ll need to Side-Along Apparate with
me.”
Harry
stepped unhesitatingly forwards. It was all too clear that Draco expected him
to act like some kind of shy, blushing virgin, and Harry was determined to
disappoint him.
Draco,
though, lowered his head and used his arm to crush Harry to his side, whilst
his eyes locked with Harry’s. The gaze was more than hungry, it was devouring, and Harry shuddered with a
mixture of pleasure and unease so strong that he barely noticed the sensation of
the Apparition.
They arrived
in the large garden that Harry had seen mostly from a distance since the war,
and Draco escorted him towards the house. His arm never left Harry’s shoulders;
his eyes never left Harry’s face, despite the danger of tripping on the gravel
path in front of him and perhaps doing his pride and his face both an injury,
which Harry knew he’d hate. He told himself that Draco was probably just too
confident to look, given how well he knew this path, but he didn’t think that
was the real answer.
The doors
swung open in front of them. The house-elf holding them bowed low. Draco didn’t
even look up. He just handed Harry carefully up the steps, and then placed his
hands on his shoulders, turning him in a circle so he could see both the
portraits and the lack of color in the immense entrance hall.
“Welcome to
my home,” Draco said into his ear, making Harry shiver and crave closer contact
still.
Welcome to my home ground, he might as well have
said.
Harry
shivered again as Draco’s hands moved, fingers playing gently up and down the
nape of his neck and twining into his hair. He suspected that Draco would do
his very best to get vengeance for the advantage over him Harry had obtained in
the Ministry. He should be cautious.
But if he
had wanted someone safe, there would
have been plenty of other choices.
I can’t wait for the game to begin.
*
MewMew2:
Thank you! I’ve been reading Darwin; trees are my new favorite metaphor.
Thrnbrooke:
Harry did agree! But not without caveats, as you see in this chapter.
Yami
Bakura: Thank you! I am certainly looking forwards to Intoxicate the Sun, but I want to finish at least one of these
novels at first.
butterpie:
Unfortunately, moments of equilibrium only last so long.
Mizu.B:
Thank you so much! I’m glad it reads well all at a time as well as in separate
chapters.
YanaYugi:
What Draco has forgotten is that Harry might not like him being possessive.
SP777: I
don’t think Harry is necessarily easier to write. After all, there’s so much
information on him in the books, you could argue that it’s easier to forget
something and write him OOC. But I do feel more comfortable mentally with him.
There are certain things Draco says and does in the books I could never accept
(witness the beliefs about blood in this chapter).
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