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Light of Heaven	By : Draeconin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 28741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Light of Heaven

by Draeconin

See chapter one for ratings, summary and other details.

Disclaimer: If you don't recognize it, it's mine. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders.

Chapter Twelve

Shortly after they appeared in the large, natural clearing, the *pop* of a great many house elves suddenly arriving rang through the air. Dobby, Jinkies, and the other four house elves that had transported Drake and him made their obeisance to Conall, then went off to join the ranks of what looked to be thousands of elves, of many races. They ringed the clearing; some dressed in bits and pieces of human cloth and clothing, such as the house elves, others in woven greenery, and some nude. The last looked so natural, that anything else would have seemed perverse.
And then there were the Veela, who wore spider silk gowns that shimmered in the sunlight. They were tall, slender, white-blond, and mostly female. Conall could only pick out two males in this group. There weren't many Veela, perhaps a few dozen, but they were just as beautiful as Conall remembered from his third year at Hogwarts. But the Noble Veela, of which there were only a handful present, stood out from the crowd like a lit candle in the darkness. It wasn't any one thing you could put a finger on that made them different from the other Veela, but the totality was breathtaking. 'And I'm supposed to be related to them?' Conall questioned, to himself. 'Dobby must be mad!'
The only male Noble Veela, and two of the females, separated themselves from the crowd and approached Conall and Drake. With that, the ceremony was begun. One of the females, upon reaching Conall and Drake, turned to the crowd. "Who calls this Convergence, and why?"
Dobby had, evidently, approached again while Conall and Drake's attention had been upon the approaching Veela, for it was he who replied. "Dobby called for Convergence by order of a Master, Thraia. A Master wishes marriage with his mate."
"Where is the High-Born and his mate?"
This was not a part of the ceremony, and suddenly Dobby looked nervous. She should have turned to Harry and Draco and welcomed them, congratulating Harry, as the High Born, upon finding his mate.
"Master Conall and Mister Drake, Thraia. Those brought in House Elf circle of honour," Dobby replied, trembling.
Thraia said nothing, but turned to the two men.
'Something isn't right, here, Drake. Unfortunately, we're fairly well helpless without our wizarding magic. Not knowing how to use this other magic doesn't help at all, either,' Conall 'said'.
'Still, this may be just a test. I hope so, because we wouldn't get far if we ran. We're surrounded.'
'"Die like a Gryffindor," eh, Potter?'
'D'Lumière, Drake. And don't use me as the target when you're nervous. I'm scared, too.'
'Sorry, Harry.'
Conall ignored his mate's use of his old name. He reached over, took Drake's damp hand in his, and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"Present yourselves as nature, so that all may know you come in peace," Thraia commanded. Dobby had briefed them well. What was being asked was that they remove all man-made coverings to show, among other things, that they carried no weapons. This should have been reassuring, since it was a return to custom, but Conall still sensed her suspicion; her distrust.

Prepared as they were for the command, their culture had not prepared them for casual nudity; so try as they might, there was more than a trace of a flush over the bodies of both young men, but no hesitation as they disrobed. One of the females gathered up the clothing and took it towards the clearing's edge, while the male and other female circled the couple once, twice, thrice; affording the gathering at least a small glimpse of the two.
At this point the male should have handed each a length of silk to drape around their loins to provide a semblance of modesty, but it didn't happen. Instead, the Veela waited for their third to return, then all three took on their non-humanoid form, growing a beak and feathered wings. This, then, was another indication of their being Noble Veela. Common Veela had scaly wings. Insofar as Conall and Drake knew (or, indeed, the whole of the wizarding world), this transformation only happened when Veela were angry, but instead of attacking, they merely spread and stretched their wings over the heads of the young men, creating a sort of canopy.
Conall felt magic working now, but it wasn't of a sort he was used to feeling. It wasn't wizard magic. This magic was at least a little more in tune with the magic that now infused his and Drake's bodies, but it was not the same. Suddenly it stopped, and the Veela returned to their humanoid forms.
"House elf," Thraia said sternly."I thought you said that these were only one-quarter Veela?"
Dobby was crouched down on all fours, pressing himself as close into the ground as he could get, and trembling violently. "This be what Dobby is hearing, Thraia. Master Dumbledore and the Pomfrey-lady say Master Conall and Mister Drake one-quarter Veela, and Master Conall be having Noble Vampire. Dobby see the Power, Lady. Dobby see the red eyes!"
"Humans! The Veela 'breed male is almost three-quarters pure, and the High Born 'breed has almost no human to him!"
The Veela male spoke up. "There are traces that great magics and bondings have been involved, Thraia, and still are. Is it possible that those magics could have altered their bodies far more than is usual? Perhaps those magics purified their bodies further? Even you must admit that these two are unique."
Thraia frowned, then examined the subjects of their conversation again, using other magics to gain more information. Eyes widening, she said "It seems you may be correct, Folmar. Very well; the house elf may live."
This last pronouncement shocked Conall. He had no idea that Dobby's life had been in danger. Dobby obviously had, from the way he had been cowering, and the way he now seemed a bit more relaxed; if loosening his grip on the turf a fraction could be called more relaxed.
"And the wedding?" asked the other female
Veela, called Coriga.
"The High-Born - Conall? - has the right. It will continue. You have the silks, Coriga?"
Coriga didn't answer, but handed over two lengths of fine silk to Folmar, who knelt to wrap the silks loosely about the loins of the nude males, though these did little to conceal their forms. The length given Conall was a deep forest green; the one given to Drake a rich peach colour. Folmar arose, and stepped back a pace.
Silence descended on the clearing, broken only by the sound of falling water from somewhere fairly close by, but out of sight. No birdsong, no insect noise, no tree breeze sounds - nothing else could be heard. Then, slowly, the Veela started to dance to a music only they could hear, and wended their way into the clearing around Conall and Drake. They were followed, one by one, by the other elfin races, from highest in order of hierarchy, to lowest. And as they danced, a 'wind' of magical energy arose, getting stronger in intensity and concentrating on the couple in the centre of the clearing. As it did, the golden glow that had twice before manifested did so once again; and for the second time, their feet left the ground. But this time both Conall and Drake remained fully aware as the magical energy whirled them about as though they were in a slow, gentle tornado. The result looked as though they were, separately, slowly dancing in mid-air.
As the 'dance' progressed, the glow grew brighter, and the spiral tighter. The tighter the spiral grew, the brighter the glow, until the limbs of the two young men were wound tightly about each other. The golden glow seemed to rival the brightness of the sun, then turned a blinding, electric blue-white before it started to fade. Drake and Conall's bodies gently drifted to the ground. As the final bit of glow left them, a deep, resonant voice rang out over the clearing, seeming to fill all space, canceling out all other sound.

"Thrice linked in the glow; thrice linked in the Light of Heaven; bound in mind, in body, and in spirit; bound in life, in death, and in rebirth. All hail the Dragon Lord to be; all hail the Healing Hand to come."
As the voice died away, all eyes that were capable of doing so stared in astonishment as the body that had issued that voice sank to the ground, unconscious. None moved to aid the pitifully small body of the elf. Dobby lay alone.
"The Elven are not subject to such usage!" Thraia denied fiercely, finally finding her voice. Even in the face of her own senses, she could not accept that these two young men, reared in Human society, could be any more than they appeared - human; albeit better specimens than most. Yet events, and her own magic, insisted that the situation was otherwise. Thraia turned to the crowds, and addressed them. "This Convergence is at an end. Go to your homes."
Slowly, the crowds of elves thinned out, each departing according to its nature, and then they were gone.

Drake and Conall had not, this time, become unconscious after the glow left them, although they were drained of strength. By the time they were able to move, only they, Dobby (who was yet to be noticed by the young men), and the Noble Veela called Folmar were left in the clearing. Sometime during their recovery period, Folmar had retrieved the young men's clothing. As they dressed, the former wizards were startled by a large shadow passing by overhead. Quickly looking up, they could see only a dark silhouette, but that was enough to tell them that a dragon of some kind had passed, flying towards the north-east.
"What, in the name of Merlin's beard, was that?" Drake asked, knowing even as he asked, that it was a stupid question.
"T�hnscht�lle. The dragon folk come and go as they please. This one attended, and observed here."
"Why?" Drake inquired, grateful that Folmar had substituted 'who' for his spoken 'what'.
"They do not explain themselves, and we do not ask."
"Well, that seems fairly damn stupid, to me," the ex-Slytherin stated, his natural arrogance asserting itself.
"Drake! We don't need to be insulting the only ones who can help us!" Conall reprimanded.
The blond just glared at his mate, embarrassed to be corrected in front of a stranger, and angry that he became embarrassed. Conall sent a mental caress to his mate in a mute attempt at conciliation, but otherwise ignored him. And seeing that the line of questioning about the dragon from the now-offended Noble Veela was now fruitless, they turned to other matters.

Neither young man had yet seen the limp form of Dobby. Although they had heard the proclamation, they hadn't seen from whence it came.
"Folmar, what was that nonsense about a dragon lord, and - what was it? A healing hand?" Conall asked, as they dressed.
"No nonsense, High Born. For an elf to be touched and used in such a manner as that one was," Folmar replied, indicating Dobby with a wave of his hand, "is unheard of."
Their attention drawn to Dobby's still form, Conall uttered a quiet exclamation, and hurried over to the house elf. Checking him over, Conall was pleased to note that Dobby was alive, and apparently unharmed. Folmar and Drake had followed Conall, Drake touching Conall's shoulder in mute support while his mate checked Dobby over.

As Conall stood and turned to put an arm around his lover, Folmar asked "The house elf is alive?" At Conall's nod, he said "Then he will recover. The proclamation made through him said you were 'thrice-bonded'. If I might inquire; this was your third bonding?

"Yes," Drake replied, simply and quietly.
"Amazing," Folmar replied.
"To achieve even one Golden Bond is rare; two is almost unheard of. Three? There is an old legend of our people of such a happening, but we thought it merely a youngling's tale. I only believe because of the anomalies of your Air Dance."
In response to the puzzled looks he received, Folmar explained. "All who choose to be Joined - who are 'married', as you call it - as you were, experience the 'Binding Dance', or the 'Air Dance', as it is sometimes called. The Golden Bond was unexpected, but did not come as a complete surprise, as it occasionally happens. It is always greeted with joy when it does occur. But the Spirit Glow that showed at the end...!" Again, he had to explain. "When your Golden Bond turned blue. It is only seen around our strongest healers when they do spirit work, or about their hands as they heal - until now. That, and the...utterance of the house elf, is proof enough."

"His name is Dobby," Conall informed him.
"The house elf? Very well, then - Dobby. But on to other matters. You have much to learn, Conall, to take your place amongst us, and you are many years behind in that learning. I would take you to the place of your learning, but I have been instructed otherwise. It is felt by some that if indeed you are what you have been proclaimed to be, then it must be proven. You will have to make the journey as best you can on your own; or rather, without help from any Veela. The house elf - Dobby - will guide you. It appears he is now awake."
The newly wedded young men knew that Folmar referred to the Noble Veela, Thraia, as the doubter. She was, evidently, the current leader of the race, or at least highly placed in the hierarchy.

Looking to where they had left the small elf to recover in peace, Drake and Conall were relieved to note that Dobby had raised himself to a semi-reclining position on one side, and was looking in their direction. "Dobby!" Conall exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Dobby is being all right, Lord," the house elf replied, looking distraught.
"A lot has happened, Dobby: and do you know why a dragon would have come to our wedding?"
"Dobby be sending invitation to all the magic folk, Lord." Dobby was struggling to gain his feet, presumably to be able to show proper respect to the one he considered his lord. It was not done that one sat or reclined in the presence of a house elf's human masters, much less in the presence of elven nobility, without express permission.
"Well, that answers that question," Conall remarked, to no-one in particular, "except why it chose to come."
"Dobby not be knowing, Lord." the little elf replied, having gained his feet. "Maybe dragon folk hear of the great Harry Potter?"
"Probably just curiosity," Conall replied, "but it seems, Dobby, that you will be guiding us to the home of the Veela. Apparently Drake and I need to prove something to some of them by getting there without other aid than yours."

Conall had found it extremely uncomfortable to realise, and live with, the fact that most of the wizarding world seemed to either almost deify him or demonise him. He didn't want to believe that he could be important to non-human folk as well. It seemed entirely unlikely, and the possibility was distinctly uncomfortable. Coming from Dobby, though, it almost seemed comical, which made it easier to deal with.

Dobby looked shocked, but nodded. "Dobby is being most happy to serve you, Lord. I's is being happy to guide Master Conall and his mate. But I's might be needing help to keep the Lord and his mate safe! May Dobby bring his mate?"
"I didn't know you had a mate, Dobby. Congratulations! Of course you may bring your mate." In light of his own recent experience, he knew better than to make assumptions; so not knowing if Dobby's mate was male or female, he avoided using pronouns.
Dobby was now hopping around in his efforts to both express and contain his joy. "Oh, thank you, Lord! Dobby so happy! Twinkie be happy, too!"
Conall frowned, slightly, wondering why Twinkie, a female elf he'd met a time or two in the kitchens, hadn't come to Dobby's aid when he fell. "Was Twinkie here today, Dobby?"
"No, Lord Conall, sir. Twinkie is being needed at the castle." Then he got a worried expression on his face. "Will Dumblee let Twinkie come with Dobby?"
As only a few had been invited to the human-style wedding, this was a reasonable worry. "I'll buy her from the school if I have to, Dobby. I look forward to meeting her again. She was very nice when I talked to her." Dobby beamed, his eyes almost sparkling, and if it hadn't been for his new status, Conall was sure he'd have had a very happy house elf wrapped around his leg.
Conall turned to ask Folmar a question, only to find the Veela gone. A look around the clearing proved that the Noble Veela wasn't anywhere in the vicinity, so they were probably on their own, as of now.
Conall turned to his mate. "Well, love, it looks like it's time to leave Hogwarts behind. We need to get ready, and say our goodbyes."
"Nobody there I care to see again anyway; except, perhaps, Professor Snape. It may be a good idea to see if I can get some potions from him for our journey, for healing and such."
Conall agreed, but was privately amazed that his mate hadn't put up a fuss about leaving.
Dobby pointed the way, and they set out for the castle.

"But Harry, you can't go!"
The newly-renamed Conall chose to ignore that his friend was using the wrong name on him. "I have to, Ron. We have to. Without functional magic, we'd be little better than squibs if we stayed. So we have to learn how to use what we now have, and we can't do that here."
"Then Herm and I will go with you!" the redhead declared.
"Ronald Weasley! Since when have you had the right to make decisions for me?" Hermione huffed, in outrage.
Ron blushed and hung his head. "Sorry, 'Mione." But then his expression again became determined. "But I'm going, anyway!"
"As if I'd let you go anywhere alone!" Hermione declared, leaving Ron gaping, his mouth moving like a fish out of water. She loved keeping her man off-balance.
"That's a very tempting offer, but we don't know where we're going, and you wouldn't be accepted once we got there. How would you get back?" Conall objected.
"A portkey, 'Conall'," Hermione replied, her voice deceptively reasonable.
"Of course you know how to make one, Granger?" Drake sneered.
Hermione blushed slightly. "No, but I'm sure..."
"And Dumbledore will, of course, be delighted to let you leave the school and go into unknown conditions; perhaps into danger?" Drake continued.
"Listen, Ferret-face! We don't-"
"Ron!" Conall interjected forcibly. "That's one good reason, right there, why you shouldn't go with us!" Conall remonstrated. "I can't, and I won't, have even my best friend insulting...my husband."

Ron was gaping at him.

Taking advantage of Ron's - likely temporary - speechlessness, Conall turned to Drake with a wry grin and said "It's going to take me a bit to get used to saying that aloud, Drae; as much as I love you."

"For me as well, love," Drake replied, blushing slightly.
Recovering, Ron made a retching sound, then said "Do you have to say it at all? Knowing you two are together I can handle, but I don't need reminders of what you do together!"
"There aren't going to be private rooms very often while we're on the road, Ron," Conall said.
"You don't mean..." Ron said faintly, turning pale.
Drake sniggered as Conall replied gently, blushing slightly. "I'm not going to ignore him because you have a problem, Ron. And it's not likely either of you will be allowed to accompany us, anyway."
"Right, 'Mione?" he said, looking at the bushy-haired girl.

Hermione sighed, but replied "You're right. I'm sorry, Ron, but as much as I'd like to, they have some very good points."

Ron lashed out in his frustration. "You'd just miss the library!" Then he looked ashamed of himself, but it was too late.
"That's right, Ron; I'm so shallow that books mean much more to me than my friends. I'll be in the library having a scintillating conversation with 'Hogwarts: A History'."

"Harry, I'll miss you," Hermione said, ignoring her red-faced boyfriend. "I hope you come back someday."

"Draco, you take care of him," she continued, turning to the blond, "or I'll hex you 'til your bits fall off!" With that, Hermione stormed off.

"'Mione!" Ron cried out, in a panic.

"I - I have to go, Harry." Ron hesitated, then gave Conall a big hug. "Come back to us!" And then he was gone, running after his girlfriend.

Conall turned to Drake, and pulled him into a short, gentle, yet passionate kiss. "We need to pack."
"Dobby! Pack and shrink our belongings, except for our brooms, then pack provisions," Drake ordered.
"Please," Conall prompted, as Dobby *popped* out. When there was no response from the blond, Conall back-handed his mate's biceps.
"Ow!"
"What did I tell you? They're not slaves, so don't treat them as if they were."
"Don't order me about, Con," Drake hissed. "And didn't you say something about buying one of them?"
"Okay, okay; you're right. I'm sorry," Conall apologised, referring to his 'ordering about' of his mate. "Anyway, I wouldn't really be buying her, just paying for the loss of her services.
Drake muttered something that sounded like a sarcastic "Right."
"Anyway, Dobby's going to be our guide," Conall continued, ignoring the jibe for the moment, "and he would probably be a lot more cooperative and helpful if we treated him and his mate decently. So if for no other reason, you might want to try to be nice to him for that one. It's called 'enlightened self interest'."
"I know what enlightened self interest is, 'Conall'," Drake replied coolly. "I've lived by it my whole life. But you know as well as I do that house elves are eager to please, no matter what; and Dobby would kiss your boots even if you kicked him with them."
"And it would appear that you're trying to start a fight with me, Drake. I don't want to fight with you."
"You know you'd lose."
"I know we'd both lose," Conall said, quietly.
"Let's get our brooms," Drake said, avoiding a direct reply, and headed off for their rooms.
"I love to fly as much as you, but doesn't that take magic?"
Drake stopped cold. "Yes, it does."
"So no flying."
"Bloody hell," Drake said, almost calmly. "They can't expect us to walk to wherever we're supposed to be going, can they?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, love: but flying, riding, or walking, getting training is a necessity. Unless, of course, you'd like to live in the Muggle world?"
"I think I'm in the mood for a stroll," was Drake's response.
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Light of Heaven