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Ragnarok	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11309 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ragnarok
- 2-Strike
- 3-Assault
- 4-Counterstrike
- 5-Backblow
- 6-Clash
- 7-Collision
- 8-Blast
- 9-Jab
- 10-Rush
- 11-Unite
- 12-And Conquer
- 10
- 11
- 12
Thank
you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Eleven�Unite

�� Draco had a long time to think as he
lay in the bed next to Potter; he didn�t need as much sleep as Potter
apparently did, and the feverish excitement that had been boiling in him since
Gilfleur�s death wouldn�t let him rest anyway. He might as well put his mind to
work hammering away at the shape of reality.

�� Soon
we will be the ones forging it, he thought, and saliva flooded his mouth as
he lay there. He licked his lips and then waited, but Potter slept on, head
curled against Draco�s shoulder. The noise he had made must not be as loud as
it had seemed in the silence.

�� He considered the immediate reaction
of the Wizengamot to Gilfleur�s failure to appear, and smiled. With a few
careful rumors and wide-eyed silences, he could plant the suspicion that she
had left the country or withdrawn from the Wizengamot, leaving the battlefield
to Draco, in order to plan her next move. By the time that people started to
disbelieve, it wouldn�t matter.

�� He considered other strategies and
rejected the majority of them. There was always someone who would ask
inconvenient questions, or a simple lack of time that would prevent them from
conducting elaborate maneuvers. But two things remained clear.

�� First, they must perform enough of
the rituals they had planned to give Potter competent control over his magic.

�� Second, they must move fast.
Potter�s strength and his own were their weapons. Draco knew his mind was
quick, but he was new to working with Potter. They could not conduct a long
campaign without people becoming suspicious, especially since the Wizengamot
knew the flavor of Potter�s magic so well. Swiftness and brutality were their
best chance.

�� We
will conquer the wizarding world in a few days, Draco thought, and laid his
head back on the pillow with a small sigh. I
wonder what Potter will say to that when I tell him?

�� Picturing Potter�s amusing facial
expression led to another thought, and he chuckled and shook his head.

�� I
am sorry to miss Risidell�s.

*

�� I don�t see how we can do that.�

�� Malfoy looked at him patiently. They
were together again in the Manor�after a day of Harry wandering around his
room, staring at the walls and trying to get used to the fact that he had
successfully slain one Wizengamot member and not been charged for it, and
Malfoy attending to his political duties�and Malfoy had just told him something
insane. Harry shook his head, trying to cope with what lay behind the look
Malfoy was giving him rather than the look itself.

�� You really think we can do this,
don�t you?� he muttered.

�� Of course we can,� Malfoy said, and
leaned across the table to pour another crystal glass full of wine. Harry tried
to keep his eyes away from it, since he didn�t think he should be drinking, but
his nose twitched anyway, and he knew he�d probably end up swallowing it. �If
we do as we must and get the rituals done tonight.�

�� Harry had to snort. �We�ve both been
drinking. What makes you assume that we can conduct the rituals without a mistake?�

�� I never drink to excess,� Malfoy
said, so calmly that it sounded like a fact rather than a boast. �And you�ve
had a large meal to fill your belly along with the wine. I would never have let
you drink too much, either.�

�� Harry studied Malfoy with a frown.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows back, but seemed to realize he would gain nothing
from rushing Harry�or perhaps realized he didn�t understand why Harry was
staring at all�and held his peace.

�� In reality, Harry was trying to
decide how much trust Malfoy required from him and how much he could give. It
was a lot, more than he�d bargained for, if he trusted Malfoy to make decisions
about Harry�s clarity of mind along
with his own. Did he give in and potentially cause a disaster in the ritual? Or
did he admit that Malfoy probably had some idea of what he was doing and agree?

�� But
probably isn�t good enough.

�� Harry pushed the glass of wine away
from himself, which made Malfoy�s mouth tighten, but nodded to him before he
could have an outburst. �I don�t trust myself as much as you do. Let�s go and
perform the ritual as soon as we�re finished.�

�� Of course,� Malfoy said, eyelids
falling like shutters over whatever emotion blazed in his face. �But we must
have dessert first.� He struck his spoon against the plate, and the dessert
appeared on it. Harry jumped, and then told himself not to be stupid. How many
times had he seen food appear like that on the plates in the Great Hall at
Hogwarts?

�� But he wasn�t a child anymore, and
this wasn�t Hogwarts. And he had never seen a dessert like this.

�� It appeared to be a castle, made of
cream, icing, and frozen fruit, so delicately arranged that Harry held his
breath in case he blew one rich tower down. Malfoy reached over, letting his
spoon glide across the sugared dome, rich with slices of berries cut to
resemble sapphires, and then broke the dome with a movement of his arm. Harry
realized his mouth was open as if he was about to cry out against the palace�s
destruction and cleared his throat roughly, embarrassed.

�� Malfoy, eyes on him, pushed the
plate closer. Harry looked at the castle, then at him, wondering what Malfoy
wanted him to see. The strawberry rubies, peach stained glass windows, and
wonderfully elaborate molding of gates didn�t look that much different on one
side of the castle than on the other.

�� But Malfoy nodded downwards, so
Harry leaned over and looked in through the broken dome.

�� It showed a hidden bedroom; in fact,
most of the castle looked hollow inside, rather than solid as Harry had
assumed. In the center of the room was a large canopied bed, silver and green
icing forming the curtains and the posts. And in the center of the bed were two
figures that looked like them.

�� Harry looked up, caught Malfoy�s
eye, and swallowed. The way he was staring said that Harry was supposed to take
this seriously. Harry looked down, hesitated, and let his finger trail across
the black curls on the head of the figure that resembled him. Black cherries,
maybe? The scraps of fruit wound about his fingers, catching delicately and
then falling away. The body blurred into a smear of cream.

�� An early victory,� Malfoy said, and
reached down to pluck himself out of the bed. Harry thought he was made of spun
sugar, with the flesh of oranges for his hair. Malfoy ate himself with a few
crunching bites and then leaned back and smiled at Harry.

�� Knowing this was a challenge, even
if he didn�t quite understand why, Harry settled for a glare and ate the figure
that resembled him, trying not to get the fruit and icing all over his hand. It
was a relief to accept a piece of the cake onto his own plate and be able to
eat with a fork, though even then he felt the judging pressure of Malfoy�s eyes
on him.

*

�� Once again they stood in the room in
his dungeons where he usually performed the rituals, but it was different this
time. Light blazed from every wall; Draco had had house-elves bring down
torches and light a fire in the hearth that usually went unused except to heat
torture instruments, but even that was not enough, given the demands of the
ritual. Draco had also cast a spell that made pure white light, without motion
or warmth, shine down from the ceiling. Potter had hesitated, blinking and
dazzled, when he first came down the stairs, but moved on at Draco�s push.

�� In the center of the room, Draco
created a normal ritual circle with no more than a thought and a flicker of his
wand. There was a spell for that, and he had learned it long ago. The ritual he
had found that might enhance Potter�s control over his magic was not
complicated in that respect; it simply took power and a finely balanced notion
of when one should intervene to prevent that power from growing out of bounds.
When Draco gestured for Potter to stand in the middle of the circle and Potter
walked over the floor as though it contained Muggle explosives, Draco hadn�t
been able to refrain from rolling his eyes.

�� But now he stood where he was
supposed to, in the exact center of the ring�Draco had cast other spells to
give them the measurements�with Draco outside. Draco nodded to him and began to
walk around the circle. Potter started to turn to face him, but stopped at
Draco�s cold snap of a command.

�� Draco closed his eyes and let the
frustration float away. He was going to win a prize greater than he had dreamed
could be his in just a few days. There was no reason to rush, no reason to feel
discomfort. It was the Wizengamot who would feel discomfort, Risidell who
looked at him as if he were a disappointment for making enemies, which was
inevitable, and the other credulous fools who had lapped up the rumors about
Gilfleur going abroad.

�� When Draco�s body thrummed with
pleasure, always the best mental condition in which to work any ritual, he
opened his eyes.

�� Potter was watching him with a
hopeful expression. His hands were crossed in front of his body, but he dropped
them when Draco gave him a stern look. Draco had tried to be as frank with
Potter as he could about the chances of their ritual succeeding, and it
wouldn�t if Potter moved around too much or acted too tense. The magic depended
most of all on Draco�s state of mind, not Potter�s, but it was delicate. Draco
might pick up Potter�s agitation and unwittingly reflect it back.

�� Draco turned to the circle, took a
deep breath, and spread his hands.

�� A line of shimmering white light
trailed them, as though the spells he had cast earlier had flown down to
outline his fingers. Draco smiled at them, refusing to notice the way Potter
had sucked in air as if he was trying to breathe in a smoky room, and then
began to turn in a slow circle. The light trailed behind him, wavering like a
ribbon blown by a faint breeze.

�� When Draco had completed one full
turn, he had a ring of white light around him at head height. He locked eyes
with Potter and was pleased to see him staring in fascination. While not as
ideal as complete peace, having Potter interested in what was going on would
make a nice change from uncertainty.

�� Draco spread his hands again, still
glowing with the light, and blew on the ribbon. It wavered one more time and
then soared away from him�Draco ducked, or otherwise the magic would have
passed through his head and they would have had to start all over�and towards
Potter. Draco had given Potter careful instructions, but he watched now with
narrowed eyes. Potter seemed to ignore instructions a good portion of the time.

�� Potter did beautifully now, reaching
up one of those arms Draco had felt wrapped around his back not twenty-four
hours ago and snatching the ribbon from midair with a carefully curved fist.
The ribbon swayed back and forth as he caught it, but didn�t break. Draco
swallowed and chided himself for tension in turn. There was no reason to think
that the magic would fail to notice, although now most of the ritual�s onus was
on Potter.

�� Again Potter followed instructions
and turned in a slow circle, offering the ribbon to every corner of the lighted
dungeon room. He was sweating, but the expression on his face was one of almost
pure concentration. Intensity. It contained nothing damaging, Draco thought,
and breathed again.

�� Potter knelt down when he came back
to his starting point and held his hands out in front of him. The ribbon
writhed like a living thing and tied his wrists together in light. Draco knew
from experiencing a similar ritual that there would be nothing physical to feel
from such a bondage, nothing but the shining around one�s skin, but Potter had
started to tremble anyway.

�� Then Draco squinted. No, Potter
wasn�t shaking. Instead, a shimmering outline projected from his body, one that
grew firmer as Draco watched. It rose and grew, until a second Potter, faint
and bright as a mirage, was kneeling beside the first. Arms held out in front
of him, hands tied with light, eyes closed, the only thing that distinguished
him was that transparency.

�� Draco waited. He knew what the
ritual was supposed to do; that was
very far from assuming it was the thing that would happen in all cases.

�� The second Potter began to flicker
back and forth like a candle flame. The real one closed his eyes more tightly
and drew in a huff of breath that sounded almost like a sob. Draco took a step
forwards and then forced himself to wait. It was not as though he could cross
the circle without disrupting the ritual, and Potter would either manage this
on his own or he would not.

�� I
wonder what�s passing through his mind?

*

�� Harry couldn�t remember the last
time he had felt this exalted.

�� The magic entered into him with a
confidence and a�a finesse that had become
unfamiliar since the botched ritual. It wound his snarling magic in inevitable
coils and pulled it to the side. Harry had never found something that could
resist him until he met Gilfleur�s defensive spells, and those were not the
same thing. They merely shifted aside the brunt of some of the force, and he
had conquered in the end.

�� This was firm, a barrier. Despite
the bonds that Harry knew he wore on his wrists, he experienced the spell as a
wall that drove through his soul and separated the magic into controllable and
uncontrollable portions. Then, while it stood firm, the power itself flowed
under the wall in one direction, while the wildness flowed in another. What was
left to Harry was purified, freed, and tamed.

�� He wanted to cry when he realized it
was working. He did not, but more because joy stunned him speechless, rather
than because he remembered that he shouldn�t break the silence that the ritual
needed.

�� He wanted to open his eyes, but
Malfoy had warned him that the room might look strange in the beginning of the
ritual, and he didn�t want to get disoriented. So he rested there, and the
light worked, and the last of the chaos left him. Magic remained in his
possession, without teeth that could chew his joints or claws that could scratch
the skin off his back.

�� The magic shimmered around him�he
could see that much by the gentle pressure of the white light through his
eyelids�and then abruptly vanished. Harry remained still, not sure if he should
trust that or not. Malfoy said rituals sometimes got off to false starts, or
appeared to pause halfway through, when in reality the magic was gathering to
begin a second sequence of events.

�� You can look now, Potter.�

�� Malfoy�s voice was oddly subdued.
Harry blinked, opened his eyes, and turned his head. He was alone in the middle
of the circle, although Malfoy had warned him that the ritual would form a
second image of himself, a twin, that he might see. It was the twin that the
wildness would go into, and when the image disappeared from the world, the
wildness was supposed to go with it as well. Considering how much better he
felt, Harry thought the two of them might already have departed.

�� He stood up and glanced down at his
wrists. The ribbon of light was gone. Harry uncrossed them and stretched them
above his head. He could still feel his power, flowing beneath the surface of
his skin, rising further when he called it, sinking down when he told it to,
but it was no longer the restless force it had been.

�� Do something,� Malfoy said, his
voice soft but intense.

�� Harry nodded at him and spun around,
aiming at the far wall. Malfoy had warned him that the ritual would not change
how he used his magic; Harry still had to think of a target and give it a
command rather than use an incantation. But he ought to be able to do more now.
�Clean it,� he said aloud, so Malfoy could share his thoughts.

�� The magic blasted out of him with a
strength that shook Harry�s teeth in his skull. He could see it as a fountain
of something so brilliant that it could have been either water or fire.
Whatever it was, it struck the far dungeon wall between two of the torches
Malfoy had set going through this ritual and chewed into the dirt there, lifting it off in a visible layer. Then
the fountain turned on the dirt and ate it. What was left was polished stone,
shining. Harry thought it might never have been so clean since the foundations
of the Manor were laid.

�� In the silence, Malfoy cleared his
throat. �Can we perform the other ritual I talked about now?� he asked.

�� Harry looked over his shoulder at
him and nodded. He couldn�t have spoken now for Galleons or worlds.

�� And then he burst out laughing and
leaped the circle to dash to Malfoy�s side, and Malfoy�s hands were
understanding and tight on his shoulders, his tongue just as eager to share in
the kiss of victory.

*

�� To the left. Walk three slow steps
and then halt.�

�� Draco droned the words to Potter,
not daring to raise his voice. He hoped Potter would hear and understand him.
Even more than the one Potter had endured, this ritual demanded utter
tranquility, an air almost of boredom.

�� That was difficult, because when
Draco thought about what they might accomplish today, he had to bite the inside
of his cheek.

�� Potter did as he instructed and then
turned his head and studied Draco. His expression was solemn, but Draco could
see a muscle jumping in the side of his neck. He knew as well as Draco did what
this ritual could mean. What surprised Draco was that he seemed to be
struggling with the same excitement, rather than resentment or fear.

�� Draco allowed a flicker of a smile
and then returned to his bored poise. He glanced at the thread of woven grass
that connected them, running from his left hand to Potter�s right. He touched
it just to make sure it was holding strong and then said, �Use it to draw me
towards you. Pull slowly enough that it won�t break apart.�

�� Potter�s raised eyebrow said he had
his doubts about that, but he began to do as Draco suggested. Draco discovered
that he was trembling with nerves and bit his lip in annoyance. He knew he could manage this. He wasn�t
going to hold back and lose out on what he needed, what he desired, and what
Potter wanted because he was frightened.

�� I
shall never be frightened again, if we succeed at this.

�� He got closer and closer to Potter,
and each time the braid of grass seemed about to unwind, it would steady. Draco
swallowed. He�d been able to use magic to braid the rope, and he trusted his
charms in a way that he didn�t trust grass woven by hand.

�� He reached Potter. Potter stared
into his eyes and then moved his left hand. In it he held the silver knife that
Draco had given to him�the enchanted knife that he had kept beside his bed for
years now and picked p on the night that he had thought Potter was attacking.

�� Last
night, Draco realized with a little shock. It was only last night. It seemed that years had grown wings since
then.

�� Like this?� Potter whispered, but
he seemed to be asking confirmation of himself rather than Draco. Before Draco
could reply, he had turned the knife and made the cut on the side of Draco�s
neck that the ritual required.

�� Draco winced and closed his eyes.
The knife could not kill him unless wielded in anger, but the sting of the
magic and the blade together was still hard to bear. He heard Potter gulp as
the blood began to trickle down his throat.

�� I�m not sure�� Potter began.

�� You have to be,� Draco said, in the
same resigned voice that he�d been using so far, but he opened his eyes and
gave Potter a glare.

�� Perhaps it was the glare, perhaps it
was the vision of the rewards they would gain if they did this correctly, but
something made Potter nod and then cut the side of his neck in turn. His face
went white with the shock.

�� Draco leaned forwards, watching
Potter to make sure that he would imitate the gesture, and fastened his mouth
over Potter�s wound.

�� The blood that invaded his mouth buzzed. Draco knew it should taste like
copper, but instead it was thick oil that burst with the scents of sunflowers,
and then roses, and then rotten meat. Draco gagged, but kept drinking anyway.
He heard Potter making similar muffled noises against his throat.

�� Against all the rules that Draco
knew, his body chose that moment to find Potter�s sucking sexy and tried to get
an erection. Draco rolled his eyes and continued his own sucking, which was all
he could do.

�� And the oily blood transformed.

�� Draco gasped as it became sweet and
intangible in his mouth, pure power and pure pleasure. He licked his lips and
then opened them wide, because it was intolerable to think that a bit of that
magic might escape him. Potter was lashing his tongue out in the same fashion
and moaning.

�� They drank at each other, holding
each other close, while the grass rope dissolved into their bodies and the air
turned blue with ringing flames. Draco knew the ritual would have been
spectacular to watch from the outside, but he could barely think about that. He
dug his fingers into Potter�s arms instead and sucked and sucked and sucked. He drank, and the magic traveled
into him and traveled out.

�� Finally, Draco�s tongue was licking
at unnatural scabs. He swallowed disappointment as well as the last of the
blood, and stepped away.

�� Potter stood still with an
expression of bliss on his face. Then he opened his eyes, swaying on his feet
slightly, and squinted at Draco. �That�that was what I thought it was, right?�
he asked hoarsely. �I mean, we traded magic? Does that mean that you can
destroy like I do, now?�

�� Draco shook his head regretfully. He
didn�t know if there was a ritual for that. There might be a series of rituals,
but they didn�t have time to look them up, research, and perform them. �It
means that we�re linked together, now,� he said. �We can cast spells in battle
more quickly and we can act together as if we had trained for years. Not a
large advantage in the scheme of things, but worth more than any other we could
have right now.�

�� Not large, my arse,� said Potter,
and didn�t seem to notice the way Draco�s eyes darted towards that part of his
body. �This is�that felt better than
anything.� He looked at Draco with lowered eyelids then. �Except last night.�

�� Draco leaned forwards and fastened
his lips on Potter�s. He received a kiss that nearly knocked him off his feet,
made his groin ache, and made him wish there was a bed in the dungeons.

�� He pulled back with a breathless
sigh. �We have to rest,� he said. �Tomorrow, we�re going to go out there and
change the world.�

�� Potter laughed. �And then we can fuck each other, after we�ve
fucked over everyone else.�

�� Draco spoke a sentence that he
wouldn�t have thought he�d ever speak. �I like the way you think, Potter.�

*

�� SP777: I would say the chapter
titles reflect violence more than noise, but you�re right on about everything
else.

�� I�m American.

�� polka dot: In the end, there might be
less violence this way.

�� purple-er: Thank you!

�� Shadow Lily: Thank you!

�� Draco is going straight to the top.

�� anonanon: Thank you!

�� luvlustblood: Thanks! I hope you
like the rawness of the rituals, as well.
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