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The Long Defeat	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30612 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
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Chapter Twelve—Turning of the Tide
            This time, Harry just fed the raven enough bacon and cheese that it landed heavily on his bed and began to drowse with its eyes open immediately. He had spent the morning training Draco, but most of the afternoon in a long lunch and lazy conversation with Narcissa that had made him more and more agitated, even though he thought she meant to relax him. He really needed to hear from his friends right now.
            Mate, said Ron’s handwriting from the beginning, in a way that made Harry tense. Ron didn’t start most letters that way. Had something happened?
            You sound so depressed when you write to us that I can’t stand it any longer. Are you sure there’s no way we can visit? That’s what you need, a return to your normal life, and not just being cooped up with the high and mighty Malfoys all day long. Hermione can come up with a glamour and an alibi that should fool the goblins if they ever challenge it. Or we could sneak in. We made it into and out of the Manor once before when they didn’t want us to. We could do it again.
            Harry smiled, and felt some part of him that had been shriveled and dead and cold even during the meal with Narcissa warming and beating again. Sometimes he thought that he could trust Draco and Narcissa even with his life, like when he showed Draco a painful spell and knew that Draco wouldn’t strike with his full strength. But there was part of him that would always belong to his friends, and only be alive when they were there to comfort him.
            That was all the letter said, but it was all it needed to say. Harry reached for the quill he needed to write, not even caring that the raven was too full to fly, and might not take his answer back to Ron and Hermione for some time.
            Dear Ron (and Hermione),
            Yes, it’s lonely here. I don’t think the Malfoys mean to do it, but they just keep reminding me how different I am than them. They don’t see anything strange about having a meal with three courses and house-elves popping up to serve them all the time. The elves don’t try to serve me, so don’t worry, Hermione. But sometimes the Malfoys command them to, and then they don’t know what to do because I’ve only got my own food or clothes or whatever. So they stand there and wring their hands. I feel bad for them.
            Not being able to go outside is killing me.
            Harry stopped there, and stared at the wall. He wondered whether he really wanted to tell his friends that Draco had kissed him.
            Then he nodded, firmed his lip, and turned back to the parchment in front of him. Of course he did. They were his friends, and they would share in all his triumphs and sadnesses. They might not know exactly what to make of Draco kissing him, but then again, Harry wasn’t sure that he did, either.
            The goblins are still buying this bollocks that I’m a Malfoy slave. Draco helped me stage the latest ruse. We were pretending that I was his completely submissive slave, and he kissed me. Then I kissed him back to convince the goblins. Some of them were looking at me in this way that makes me glad I never experienced being their slave.
            Harry stopped and stared at the words again. There. That was the simplest way he could say what he meant.
            Except, of course, that it wasn’t all he meant.
            Draco wants me to stay in the wizarding world, and he keeps telling me that I should relax and enjoy the things the Manor can offer me. Which is nice food, I suppose, and nice clothes. But the elves keep looking at my clothes and squeaking, too, so it’s hard to feel that they really belong to me.
            I’m just so tired of all of this. Even the ruse to appease the goblins. I know the Malfoys are doing the best they can by me, and I do appreciate it, but I want it to end. I want to run out of the Manor today and tell the goblins and everyone who turned their backs on me when I asked for help that they were wrong. I want to be free to travel the world and go to the Muggle world.
            He hesitated, then added one more paragraph. If Draco thinks that kissing me is the only way to keep me in the wizarding world, he’s wrong. But I’ll ask them about you visiting. I don’t want to sneak you in, but I will if they deny me.
            He didn’t sign his name, the way Ron hadn’t signed his. There was no need, not when they knew each other so well. He set the letter aside, a little calmer already just from writing it, and sat down on his bed, waiting for the raven to wake up.
*
            Harry appeared late for dinner, and halted when he came into the room and saw Lucius sitting at the table. Draco knew that had to be it, because he and his mother were sitting closer to the door, and Harry had appeared nodding to them. He’d only stopped when he fully rounded the corner and Lucius came into view.
            Draco’s father turned back to his plate as if he had more interesting things to contemplate than Harry, which was probably true. Draco’s mother stretched out one hand. She didn’t say anything. Draco wondered if Harry would appreciate the silent plea, and how rare it was for one of them.
            It seemed he did. He came slowly to his seat, looking back and forth between Draco’s parents as if he didn’t know which one of them surprised him more. He ignored Draco completely while he did it, which was annoying.
            At least he took his usual seat opposite from Draco without the fuss that Draco had anticipated. He also took a glass of pumpkin juice that Draco passed him, and sipped it, without taking his gaze from Lucius this time.
            “My father sometimes joins us at dinner,” said Draco, too annoyed now to let it pass, even though he probably should have. “It’s something that families do together. I take it you’re not familiar with it?”
            “As a matter of fact,” said Harry, with a smile so sharp that Draco flinched, “I’m not. My parents died when I was a year and a half old, you see, and the family that raised me didn’t like me to eat with them at the table.”
            Draco blinked, and said nothing. His mother was the one who spoke, her voice soft and gentle. “But that’s terrible. Why did they think they could justify excluding you?”
            “Because I had magic, and they were afraid of me,” said Harry. He looked down at the baked salmon that had appeared on his plate without seeming to care about it, which was a crime, Draco thought. One of the first pleasures Harry should take up luxuriating in was the pleasure of food. “I thought it would be different when I came to the wizarding world and realized there were a lot of people, all like me. And then I realized that it wasn’t, and those people still thought I was a freak for something I didn’t know I’d done.” His hand clenched around the fork.
            “That is terrible,” said Draco’s mother, still sounding placid and unruffled. Draco and Harry both stared at her. She sipped from her own chilled drink and didn’t flinch. “Perhaps the best way you can get back at the people who exiled you from their company is to live and enjoy your life. Don’t you agree?”
            Harry shrugged. “I’ve managed to enjoy myself more than I thought I was. I had some fun at school. And with Quidditch. And even for a few months after the war.” He picked up the fork at last, but showed no sign of recognizing how good the fish he was cutting into minute bits and putting in his mouth was.
            “I meant more than that,” said Narcissa. “Enjoying your life now, and forgetting about the way they tried to spite you out of it.”
            Harry paused, then said, much more politely than he’d spoken to Draco in the training room, “I know that you’re being good to me. But I can’t forget that I’m still a slave in name and have to submit to the goblins, even if it’s just a pretense. It’s preferable to what I would have had. But it’s still uncomfortable.” He paused, then added, “I’d like it better if my friends could visit, though.”
            Draco discovered something burning at the bottom of his stomach, and put his hand over it, confused. He couldn’t possibly have food poisoning from house-elf cooking.
            But perhaps one could be poisoned by jealousy, which was what he decided a second later that he was feeling.
            “What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice snapping like ice despite himself. “My company isn’t enough for you?”
            “No,” said Harry.
            Draco flinched again, and dropped back into his chair. His mother was the one who interceded, her voice again as cool as her drink. “I don’t think that insults and comparisons are particularly useful, in this case. What if, Harry Potter, we were to make another bargain? One that involves the visit of your friends, helped by us so that they won’t betray themselves to the goblins accidentally, and you do something in return for us?”
            “What is that?” Harry’s hunched shoulders spoke of the kind of thing he expected to be asked.
            Draco opened his mouth to say something else about that, about the way Harry kept distrusting them even when they put themselves out for him, but his mother interrupted. “That you relax, stop snapping at us, and attempt to take some revenge on those who have wronged you by enjoying what we can provide you. Even if they never know about it, it is fitting revenge if you stop feeling as much like an outcast as they have made you feel.”
*
            Harry bit his tongue on half the things he could have said. He was used to controlling his anger, sort of. It was the way that he had kept from actually melting someone so far.
            He thought about what Narcissa was asking. To enjoy life. To take revenge on his enemies. The last part sounded good to him. He just wasn’t sure that enjoying life was the best way to do that.
            But he didn’t have many other options. Bringing down Gringotts was unthinkable, not when it would cause so much pain to people who hadn’t hurt him, and even people like the Malfoys who had helped him. He gave a quick nod. “All right. What were you thinking of?”
            “First of all,” said Narcissa, smiling at him in that way she had where apparently she beamed with delight at the whole world, “you might learn to enjoy the taste of your food. Eat slowly.”
            Harry blinked down at his plate, and then slowly picked up his fork. He stuck it into the fish, watching Narcissa this time. She nodded and smiled. Harry plucked a bite of fish, put it into his mouth, and forced himself to chew slowly, although he thought it was a little silly.
            The taste seemed to explode over his tongue, searing it, and not really with heat. Harry gasped. How had he managed to ignore that?
            “Good, isn’t it?” Narcissa picked up her fork in turn. “I thought that the house-elves here would never manage to approximate the food that I enjoyed when I was at home, but they have. If you have a favorite food, you only need to ask for it. They’ll make it for you.”
            “But what about formal dinners, like this?” Harry gestured around the table. Draco was still watching him so intently that it was spooky. Harry did his best to ignore that. “And what about the fact that I’m still a slave? Are the elves supposed to serve me?”
            For some reason, Narcissa glanced at Lucius out of the corner of her eye, and he flushed a little. When he spoke, it was slowly, but Harry didn’t doubt that he meant what he said. “The—confusion of the elves over your status is a reaction to my own uncertainty. If I can convince myself to treat you as a member of the family, they should do the same thing.”
            I don’t want to belong to the same family as you. Treating you as an ally is something different.
            But Harry restrained his tongue again, and glanced at Draco. “You were the one who came up with the plan for me to relax in the first place. Do you have other suggestions?”
            Draco’s mouth fell open a little, which made Harry feel better. At least it probably meant that Draco hadn’t known his mother was going to suggest this bargain, either, and so they hadn’t sat around plotting against him behind closed doors.
            But Draco recovered quickly. “You can go outside and walk in the gardens. You can shower for longer than five minutes at a time. You can ask for the kinds of sheets you want on your bed, and new clothes. You can go to some other rooms of the Manor and admire the beautiful paintings in them. You can—”
            “Your father said that I couldn’t go outside the wards,” Harry interrupted. “So a walk in the gardens is out.”
            “I am sure that he was not thinking of the complex illusion spells someone can perform that will allow you to do that,” said Narcissa, and gave Lucius a smile of the kind that Harry thought must drive Lucius mental. It would drive Harry mental. He just hoped that he never married someone like Narcissa. “He or I can perform them, and then you can walk invisible in the gardens and escape the prying eyes of the goblins.”
            “Yes,” said Harry. “Yes. I’d love that. Let me try that first.” He didn’t really know what to make of some of Draco’s other suggestions. Changing the length of his showers wouldn’t change the way he lived, and neither would listening to haughty portraits of Malfoy ancestors comment on his looks. But he would like to be outside.
            “Let’s go outside after dinner, then,” said Draco. “You can cast the necessary charms, Mother?”
            “Yes, of course,” said Narcissa, without blinking, although Harry didn’t know if she’d expected Draco to ask so soon. “In the meantime, let us enjoy the meal, and stop distracting Harry from it. You may write to your friends this evening, Harry, and tell them that they are welcome in the Manor as soon as they wish to come.”
            And with that, everyone did turn back to their fish, and to the soup that followed, and the slices of thick white bread with some kind of chocolate drizzled in the center of them, and the candied peaches, and Harry almost would have thought nothing had changed at all. The meal was the same level of formality it always was, and Draco darted little glances at him when he thought Harry wasn’t watching. The biggest difference was Lucius’s presence.
            But at the same time, he felt as if he had broken through walls into sunlight.
            Maybe that’s what they’re talking about. Maybe an internal change really can mean almost as much as an external one.
*
            Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone pray fervently, except Aunt Bellatrix when she was hoping that the Dark Lord would look with favor on something she’d done. But he knew he was close to seeing it as he watched Harry stand in the largest garden, under a complicated combination of charms linked to the wards that would make him invisible if anyone approached the house from outside, his eyes shut and his mouth breathing in the air and the light.
            A second later, Harry opened his eyes and grinned at Draco. Draco caught his breath. That was the exhilarated expression that he wanted to see from now on.
            “This is wonderful,” said Harry, looking now at the square flowerbeds and carefully-tended roses as if they were a Quidditch pitch. Draco opened his mouth to say that they shouldn’t try to play Quidditch here, but Harry had already sprinted away from him and knelt down next to a rose that nodded and drooped from the weight of its enormous scarlet head. “What’s this one called?”
            “I didn’t know you were such a Herbology enthusiast,” Draco said dryly when he’d recovered from his gaping. “And I don’t know. You’d have to call the house-elves who bred the thing.”
            “I’m an enthusiast for being out,” said Harry, and the smile was gone. Draco winced a little. Damn. He hadn’t meant to do that. “Anyway, call the house-elves, will you?”
            Draco shook his head at once. He didn’t want to share his sojourn with Harry. “It’s called a narcissus rose. From the way that it drops like a narcissus drooping over a pond. My mother’s very fond of it.”
            Harry blinked, one hand arrested in a caress of the rose’s petals. “You did know? Why would you lie and say you didn’t?”
            “Because it’s embarrassing,” Draco muttered, looking away. “The kind of knowledge that can’t do me any good. It’s not like I’m going to be called on to practice Herbology in my mother’s garden, and there are lots of plants here that don’t grow anywhere else.”
            “Do you only value knowledge that’s practical?”
            And now there was something soft and hurt in Harry’s voice that Draco didn’t understand. He turned around with his hands on his knees, ready to rise and touch him if he needed to. “What do you mean?”
            “Do you only value our dueling practice when I teach you spells that have an immediate application?”
            Draco frowned again. “No,” he said. “I value them mostly because I get to spend time with you. Although I also hope that you’ll teach me to defend myself as well as you defended me that day in Diagon Alley.”
            Harry stared at him again. Then he stood up and walked away among the benches, his head bent as if he was studying the flowers and only the flowers. Draco held his breath, hoping that wasn’t true.
            “What’s this one called?”
            It might not be true, but for right now, it seemed that interest in the flowers was the only thing Harry would admit to. Draco sighed, stood up, and followed.
*
            He has to be telling the truth. There’s nothing he would gain if he wasn’t, except spending time with me, and that’s—what he said he wants.
            Harry didn’t really want to be thinking this. He wanted to enjoy the sunlight and learn the names of the flowers and be able to fancy that he was back at Hogwarts again. For all that he had suffered death and betrayal and grief there, it was still the best home he’d known, the place he’d been happiest.
            But he couldn’t ignore the way that Draco was walking with him, and naming the flowers that he’d admitted he had no interest in, and even smiling at him sometimes when he thought Harry wouldn’t notice.
            What’s that but interest? Respect?
            A little unnerved, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Could we ride brooms out here?”
            Draco paused, then nodded. “I think that we’d have to strengthen the charms. These spells probably wouldn’t last up to the darting of a broom, especially as fast as you can fly.”
            Harry glanced at him sidelong, and saw Draco looking up at the sky as if he, too, were remembering their Quidditch games. Harry made the offer before he could regret it. “You know, I could probably teach you to fly the way I do, too. It’s just a matter of having good brooms, and your dad can probably still purchase those.”
            Draco’s gaze jerked down to him, and for a moment, his eyes were so wide that he looked afraid. Then he shook his head. “You could teach me some moves, but I already know those. That—it’s a natural talent, Harry, what you do. I know. The first time I saw you on a broom, I knew it, that it’s one of those things that just can’t be taught.” He grinned, reluctantly. “It took me eight years to admit it and stop trying to compete with you at least in my head, but I knew first thing.”
            Harry took a step towards him, angry for no reason. He was supposed to be enjoying his time outside, he’d thought he was, but this refusal made him furious. Draco held his hands up and looked at Harry uncertainly through his fingers in response.
            “You keep telling me that I shouldn’t give up,” Harry snapped, his voice thick. “Even at something that looks like it’s impossible, and that’s making people regret what they did in not supporting me when they never wanted to in the first place. How can you just give up and say that you don’t need to try?”
            Draco smiled and dropped his hands. “It’s like saying how can I give up on living without magic or taming dragons,” he said lightly. “Some things are just impossible. I know that learning to fly as well as you do is one of them. But you could still get your vengeance. I want to see you succeed in that.”
            Harry shook his head, wordless now with rage, and turned his back. He wanted to kick at the dirt. He wanted to grab a broom and race into the sky.
            Since neither of those were options, he stalked away, his hands behind his back. Draco followed him, although he didn’t try to talk. Harry did see Draco watching him cautiously out of the corner of his eye, though.
            “Are you all right?” Draco asked finally.
            Harry spun on him. At least he had the words for his rage now. “You’re trying to make me rethink leaving the wizarding world!”
            There. It might sound silly and unfair, but at least it was out.
            Draco leveled another intense stare at him. “Is it working?”
            “Yes, it’s bloody working,” Harry said, and sat down on a low bench behind him. He thought it was probably meant to let the person sitting in it admire the glowing roses and other flowers banked before it, but he couldn’t see them through his fingers driving into his eyes. “It’s working, when I thought nothing could.”
            He felt Draco’s hand beneath his chin, pressing his head back. Harry opened his eyes again, wondering if he had damaged some rare flower without looking where he sat or something.
            Instead, Draco kissed him. Determined, gentle, his fingers raking through Harry’s hair. Harry sat there this time, stunned, instead of kissing back, and then reached out and placed one hand on the side of Draco’s head, under his ear. It was all he could do.
            The right thing to do, if the way Draco broke away and smiled at him was any indication.
            “Just think about it,” Draco commanded him softly. “The ultimate decision has to be yours.” He paused, and then added, “And I think you’re really considering it now, where you weren’t before.”
            Harry nodded, wordless.
            “Enjoy the rest of your time in the gardens,” Draco said, and bowed to him—fucking bowed to him—and went back inside the house.
            Harry collapsed on the bench and stared up at the sun, the sky, the clouds, the soft wind. Then he put his hand over his face.
            Yes, now he had to think about it, had to possibly change his mind on something he’d considered settled.
            And hope bloody hurt, that was all.
*
SP777: Thanks! Lucius and Narcissa are going to be an important part of this story, since Harry can’t rely on Draco alone for all his human communication (no matter how much Draco wants him to).
delia cerrano: It hadn’t occurred to Harry that the Malfoys would actually grant his petition or make a bargain with him, or he would have tried it earlier.
Jester: Thank you!
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The Long Defeat