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The Wages of Going On	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 43959 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Twelve--The Promise of Power
            Draco told himself, as he watched the owl fly away, that he wasn't a bloody schoolgirl. He had no reason to stand here twittering to himself and being nervous over a perfectly acceptable letter. He had no reason even to be nervous of Harry's reaction. Harry had shown himself content to avoid Draco so far, except in moments of extreme need.
            But am I going to be content to let him avoid me anymore?
            Draco reckoned his letter--which included the copied passage from the book Severus had shown him, and an explanation of its significance, and an invitation to meet and discuss the bond further--showed he wouldn't. He only hoped that Potter took that in the spirit it was meant.
            He bit his lip anxiously and turned away from the window. He had sent the owl, and there was no getting it back. Harry, Potter, whatever name Draco should call him, would have the information now, and he could choose to respond any way he wanted. Draco would have to sit back and await results.
*
            The potion boiled over, drops of transparent liquid cascading down the side of the cauldron to end up on the floor.
            Severus bowed his head and stood there in silence for a time. Then he cleaned up the cauldron and the failed potion alike with one flick of his wand, and took his seat on the chair near the lab's window, staring out. At the moment, the view from the enchanted window showed what was probably close to the real one, a white peacock dancing around a white peahen in the Manor's gardens and spreading his tail.
            If I had the power of the bond, I could analyze my hatred for Potter from a distance and figure out how much is deserved and how much isn't.
            Severus closed his eyes. When he raised one hand, he could feel the stinging from the slap Draco had given him still on his cheek, and when he reached back along the bond in his mind, he could encounter the weight of the steel mountain, the heavy shimmering patch of emotions that were Draco's hope--bright pink--and his anxiety--bright yellow.
            Even those colors reminded him of what the book had said about the sunset place in Potter's mind, and how it proved what bond they had.
            Severus opened his eyes slowly. He had never attempted to be objective about Potter. During the war, his duty required only that he hold his feelings in enough check to be going on with, and since the war, he had avoided him. Was it not enough that he had helped his worst enemy's son to survive?
            Lily's son.
            Lily's virgin son, whom he had raped, who had manipulated the bond and the situation in which he became a virgin sacrifice with a precision and strength and clarity that Severus could only admire from a distance. If Draco had done it, if any of his former Slytherin students had managed it, he would have sent a letter expressing unqualified admiration and readiness to help.
            But Potter...
            Severus bowed his head. He did not care what Potter and Draco might be feeling through the bond right now. Draco might feel an increase in bitterness, but based on his words to Severus yesterday, he did not know exactly what that increase signified. And Potter would know, but he was not here to torment Severus, and he would likely not care.
            Severus had thought his rage was deserved, that his hatred was deserved, that he was being the most rational one about the bond, in his own stubborn way. They would never be able to work together. Why try? It was ridiculous, nonsensical, a waste of time.
            But now he had allowed it to infect his brewing.
            He should not have done that. Nothing had ever done that, not the height of the war, not the stress of the year he had spent as Hogwarts Headmaster. Potions had always been his escape and his art, never touched by the outside world.
            Now that it had been, he had to admit that he might have made a mistake. If he could not have the clarity of mind needed to pursue his art, then fleeing from the bond would provide no refuge.
            Severus opened his eyes and gazed out the window again. The peacock was pecking mildly at the grass, with no sign of the peahen. He did not know what had happened, whether they had mated or she had left because she was not interested.
            He had to know some things, he decided at last. Retaining uncertainty until the end of his life was not acceptable, because the uncertainty would--once again--infect his potions. He stood up.
            He felt the rippling clarity in the back of his mind resolve itself, at the same moment as the mountain behind it shot up to a new height. The sensation was so dizzying that Severus gasped and caught himself with his hands on the edge of the table. He wondered what had happened. That sensation was the strongest he had experienced through the bond, save only the moment when it had felt as if his ribs were attempting to leave through his chest wall.
            But no answer came, and Severus frowned. He was left to rely on Draco or Potter themselves for news, and that was not acceptable.
            And if he had found something that was not acceptable, then it was up to him to rectify it. One could not always depend on Draco to do the sensible thing, as his desire to submit to Potter proved, and one could never depend on Potter, who seemed as if he would have preferred to die rather than depend on them.
            Severus left the lab with a rapid stride, and made his way towards the library.
*
            Harry stared at the piece of parchment in his hand, light-headed with rage. Then he crumpled it up into a ball, tossed it into the air, and drew his wand.
            Flames curled around the ball of paper in mid-flight. In seconds, it was gone, and even the ashes that were left caught fire. Harry sprayed his wand back and forth, spraying heat with it, absorbing what was left of it, the smallest and most insignificant parts, into the force of his own power.
            He finally lowered his wand when he was convinced that no part of the letter remained to pollute the Black library. His hand was shaking.
            He wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to do several things, most of which he would not permit himself to do, clamping his will around his lungs and his stomach and any other disobedient body parts.
            In some ways, that bloody ritual circle was good for me, Harry decided, as he paced slowly back and forth and calmed down again. It taught me that there's nothing I can't do. Even work myself up to asking them for help when I have to. Even making them submit to me in turn.
            But that would not be necessary this time, and he was privately appalled that Malfoy wanted more from him. He had thought Malfoy understood that he needed time. If he was willing to submit to Harry, then he should have been willing to leave him alone, whether he had found the same passage that Hermione had or not.
            Then Harry remembered something, and smiled. Ineffective as he might have been when he tried to be a Death Eater, Malfoy was still a Slytherin. Power drew them like maggots to rotting meat. Of course he would "recommend" that Harry work with him to make the power of the bond a reality. He wouldn't want to do anything else once he read about what it might give him.
            All they think of is what they can take, Harry thought, and kicked the leg of the table. It didn't move, but it hurt his toes, and he relished the burn of pain up his leg. Never what they can give. Or what they can fucking leave alone.
            He folded his arms and closed his eyes. He had to decide whether he was going to respond to Malfoy right away or wait. And whether he was going to tell him that he'd already known the information Malfoy found, thanks to Hermione's research skills. And whether--
            Then Harry opened his eyes. Why did he owe Malfoy anything, least of all a quick reply? Malfoy was the one who was reversing himself, moving away from the understanding Harry had thought was possible to a naked appeal for power.
            He owed him nothing. He owed Snape nothing. They had raped him. Or they had been caught in a terrible situation with him and survived, if you wanted to take the view that made Harry not have a debt of revenge towards them, too. Either way, that didn't mean any of them had to have anything to do with each other afterwards.
            Harry nodded. He wouldn't respond. Perhaps Malfoy would finally understand, that way, how little care Harry had for this bond and what he could get out of it. Perhaps he would even cooperate better when Harry wanted to destroy the bond, because that would mean he'd have given up on the notion of power.
            The power could tempt me, if it wasn't for the consequences, Harry acknowledged to himself. The power to find the Lestranges and speak to people from a distance...
            But only if they were people he trusted. That was never going to be the case, and in the meantime, it would distract him from his real goal.
            He went back to planning ways to get near Johnson's office without being seen and release the memo, glad that he had destroyed the letter. That way, it couldn't even lie near him, taunting him with Malfoy's incredible thoughtlessness.
*
            "Why did you send him that information?"
            Draco leaned back in his chair and regarded Severus. "Why do you care one way or the other?" he asked. "You've made it obvious that you want nothing to do with Potter."
            Severus lowered his eyes to his hands on the library table. Draco blinked. Well, that was better than he'd expected, or at least less full of shouting than he'd expected. Now to see whether Severus had really changed his mind, or if this was some odd ploy to soften Draco up or try to get him to be the one to approach Potter. Draco had no doubt Severus would want the power of the bond if there was some way to get it that didn't involve him dealing directly with Potter.
            Draco wouldn't play liaison, though. The book had been clear: all the participants in the bond had to work together to acquire that much magic. It wouldn't work for two of them to be a unit and one to be on the outside.
            "I spoiled a potion today," Severus said.
            Draco waited, and waited for more. Then he said, "So what? Why would that be enough to make you change your mind?"
            Severus left his head. "It was a Pepper-Up Potion," he said. "Not an experimental one."
            Draco blinked. "And you've never spoiled an ordinary potion?" He knew a number of casualties, in the way of cauldrons and vials, were expected with experimental potions. He had thought that Severus would sometimes have an off day in the way that anyone else would, though, and ruin an ordinary one, too.
            "Not since I became a Potions master."
            Draco eyed him skeptically. Well, it was the sort of thing that might convince Severus. Draco just didn't think they could rely on it to convince anyone but him. Potter, for example, might scoff a bit.
            "I do not want this bond." Severus's gaze was steady on Draco's face. "Even the power would only tempt me if there was an easier way of gaining it. But I do not like the person I have become in resisting it. Someone who spoils potions is not what I wish to be. I should have enough self-control not to do that, and I do not."
            "There might be easier ways to become that kind of person who has self-control," Draco said, and waited.
            Severus sneered at him, which at least proved he was still Severus and not some cheap copy created by a golem-maker. "Do you imagine that I have no conception of the difficulties? I know that I will suffer in terms of lost patience, and lost sleep, and attempts to convince Potter to listen to me when he has no reason to--"
            "And you're not considering what Potter will suffer." Draco tapped his fingers on the table in front of Severus, sharply enough that Severus started. "That's the problem. You're so focused on what it would cost you, and the kinds of inconveniences that you would suffer, that you don't even think about what kinds of problems this would cause Harry."
            "Can you not decide whether you will call him by his first or last name?" Severus sneered at him again, gathering the folds of his robes up, as though he expected Draco to snatch at them next. "It is distracting."
            "Not half as distracting or distressing as you attempting to make the bond work when you haven't considered what the cost to Harry could be," Draco said.
            "Why are you so worried about him?"
            Rather than me, the bitterness in the back of his mind and the emphasis on that last word said. Draco rolled his eyes. "If we alienate him, then we make it harder than ever to survive the bond or reclaim it and make it work for us, or even break it. I don't expect you to understand that, since you seem determined to discount Potter from the equation entirely even when you're more open to working with him. It won't accomplish anything if you go in only thinking of what it will cost you."
            Severus considered that, eyes flickering back and forth as though he was trying to see, without actually peering into Draco's thoughts, how much of this came from concern for Potter and how much for concern that the bond actually work. Draco gave him a nasty smile. Even if Severus had used Legilimency, he was unlikely to find that out, because Draco himself didn't know how to untangle his motivations.
            "Let us say that I believe you," said Severus. Draco said nothing, but Severus frowned as though the way that the bond showed itself in his mind had changed. "Why should we make more than the minimum necessary effort to work with Potter? He has shown that he wants no kindness from us."
            Draco bit his tongue to avoid saying something like, A sensible question, praise Merlin. "He accepted my help when it was that or die," he said. "I think we need to make a rational argument showing that it would be better for everyone in the long run, including him, if we can make the bond do what it was supposed to do. Ultimately, if he works with us in the short run, he won't need us around as much in the long run."
            Severus grimaced. "That is unlikely, when the bond requires the three of us together to perform any powerful magic."
            Draco shook his head. "We can learn how to manipulate it so that it doesn't. But that does mean working together more closely in the short term."
            Severus eyed him sideways. "You discovered that? You do not merely hope that?"
            "You didn't read the whole book." Draco reached across the table and poked Severus hard in the chest, making him sway and grunt, because he really was done with this. "And what do I have to hope for? Either associating with someone who cares more about his potions than me, or associating with someone who would rather die than let me help him."
            Severus didn't flinch, but Draco thought that was because of long practice rather than because he wasn't hurt. Well, fuck him, anyway. Draco was doing what he had to do to survive. That didn't include sparing Severus's feelings.
            It might include sparing Harry's.
            But since Harry hadn't written back to him yet, Draco had no way of knowing that.
            "Fine," Severus said. "But will Potter even believe me if I write some kind of conciliatory letter to him? I think him more likely to tear it up."
            "I already took care of that," Draco said. "He hasn't returned an answer to my letter yet, but then again, I just sent it out. Let's wait and see what he does. If he doesn't respond, then we can decide who should communicate with him next, and what they should say. If he does, then we can take it from there."
            "I would still prefer if you took over the task of speaking to him." Severus was grimacing. "I find being in his presence and being reminded of what I owe him--distasteful."
            "And you don't even owe him any bloody life-debts." Draco smiled without humor when Severus's startled glance flicked towards him. "Listen. We both have to be willing to work with him if he says that he'll accept our help. It's no good just me saying that I'll be waiting. He knows that already, because I was the one who submitted to him when you didn't. You have to do it too, or he'll be sure that this is a ploy and reject it."
            "He would never believe me if I said I was," said Severus.
            Draco stood up. "The bond tells him more about our feelings and motivations and actions than it tells us about his. If you explain to him--at the appropriate time--about your desire to survive and be clear-minded enough to brew, he might not like it, but he might accept it."
            "That would entail exposing myself to him," Severus said, and went on talking as Draco walked towards the library door without pausing. "Unforgivably."
            "And you don't think we already saw an unforgivable amount of him?" Draco asked softly, and passed out of the room.
*
            Harry took a silent breath. He wasn't going to get a better chance than this, and it was silly to wait around as if he was.
            He opened his hand and breathed on the fake memo for luck, then let it go with the same spell that he would use to send one to anyone in the Ministry.
            He was hiding down the corridor from Johnson's office, and the memo flittered through the half-open door and inside. Harry knew that Johnson was in there, doing paperwork, and currently alone. It might not matter much if he wasn't, but Harry wasn't about to take the chance.
            There was silence after the slight crackle of opening paper. Harry waited, Disillusioned, his wand hanging comfortably in his hand. If Johnson tried to firecall someone instead, he would creep closer and listen. If he sent an owl, Harry would intercept it. But most people responded to a memo with either another memo or going to find the person who had sent it, which meant that Harry would lay good odds on this working out the way he wanted it to.
            Then Johnson burst out of his office, his face pale, and ran past Harry, down the corridor in the direction of offices that generally contained lesser Ministry flunkies.
            Interesting. Raising one eyebrow, Harry went after him, with the same loose-limbed stride that he'd used before to prevent anyone from noticing that someone under a Disillusionment Charm was passing them.
            Johnson seemed to be counting doors when Harry caught up with him, his lips and his hands desperately shuffling. Harry frowned, still drifting. Did Johnson have a contact, a middleman, rather than a direct link to the person who had sent the memo? Well, fuck. That would mean more tracking, more time, more investment in a plan to try and catch whoever this was.
            And Harry had been so counting on being able to spring his trap and get his vengeance sooner rather than later.
            But Johnson at last came to a stop before a small door, took a deep breath, and knocked. Harry waited. Johnson waited. Finally he raised his fist and hammered hard enough to jounce the door and the wall and Harry, leaning against it. He hastily stood up in case sensitive wards registered some weight that shouldn't have been there.
            The door opened. Johnson bent nearer, to someone whom Harry couldn't see, and whispered, "I need to see Morales as soon as possible."
            Harry felt his heartbeat pick up. Yes, this was a middleman, but having a name made a difference. Morales. Heather Morales, one of the top Aurors in the Department, a strong candidate for either the Wizengamot or the Head Auror when Kingsley got tired of doing the job.
            He didn't know of any grudge she had against him, but then, she might be only a link in the chain herself. Perhaps she would lead him to someone else, someone higher, whom he had pissed off.
            Whatever the person in the office said, Johnson didn't like it. He shook his head. "I have to. She contacted me herself. Potter's getting too close!" The unseen face must have hushed him, because he nodded and lowered his voice in the next instant. "Please, I know. I just have to speak to her and determine what we should do next."
            The unseen person murmured something this time, and Harry inched close enough to make out the words "...wants you to think that."
            Johnson snorted and batted at his hair, as though pulling on it would ease his worries. "I don't think Potter is smart enough to have worked out who's plotting against him, much less anything else."
            Harry rolled his eyes until they almost went back in his head. If they thought that he wasn't intelligent, why did they fear him?
            He came closer again, inching around Johnson's back. He was almost at the angle where he could see who Johnson was talking to. That would be nice, give him another link in the chain, which probably led back beyond Morales, but might have other links and leads Harry wasn't aware of at the moment.
            A ward blazed to life around him, while a blaring bell rang, and Harry nearly jumped. Then he fought down the instinct, and swirled to the side instead, as a silver cage of light tried to close around him. Shit.
            The movement got him out of the cage, but not out of range of Johnson's wand. He'd cast in a wild panic, Harry thought, but better than Harry might have anticipated under the circumstances. Harry careered into the side of the Stunner, not enough to knock him out right away, but enough to fling him down and incapacitate him.
            He heard footsteps and Johnson's voice murmuring, "Finite" to get rid of his Disillusionment, but he couldn't do anything other than blink and twitch his fingers a bit.
            "Fuck," Johnson's voice said with feeling, a moment later.
            "Yes, I know," said the person from the office. Harry couldn't roll his head to look at him, but he knew it was a man from the voice. "Well, that's torn it. He'll have to go to Morales now." He paused, then added, "Stun him again. He's not all the way out."
            As Johnson raised his wand a second time, Harry called on all his strength and rolled his head a little.
            The source of the man's voice revealed itself. Theodore Nott, from Slytherin, from Hogwarts.
            Fucking Slytherins, Harry thought, his last thought before the Stunner slammed into him and he was gone.
*
            ChelseaPlume: Well, this might count as the drastic thing. (Maybe).
            I am curious what you mean about Hermione, though. What do you think is the true advantage of the bond?
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The Wages of Going On