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Nature of the Beast	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 48976 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirteen--Interventions and Interference
            "I will go now, then," said Aloren, making a small bow and looking from one of their faces to the other, as though he assumed that they were making the decision separately. Draco wrapped a wing around Harry's shoulders and just waited, and Aloren nodded as though that had been an answer to the question. "If you cannot yet decide whether you want to hear more about submissives and dominants and the way that they answer the call of their bonds, I can't blame you."
            "I would be willing to hear more," said Harry. Draco tested the bond and found that one of the conduits was open enough, or Harry's emotion was powerful enough, to come to him in scattered fragments. Harry was calm right now. "But we do have to work out a compromise on our own. Greater understanding can come after that."
            "Are you willing to do this?" Aloren looked at Draco this time.
            Draco met his eyes and reminded himself that he was trying to help, and not challenging Draco's right to cradle or comfort or protect Harry, the way a hostile dominant would be. "I need to compromise," he said.
            Aloren seemed to understand the unspoken words, which involved there being no other mate for him, and grimaced a little. "There might be the option of breaking the bond," he said. "It is uncertain whether you would survive, but we could try it."
            "How many people have survived the breaking of a Veela bond?" Draco asked. He knew it couldn't be very many, or it was one of the first options his mother would have suggested once Harry began to show the signs of not being a typical submissive.
            "One or two," said Aloren. "It was never the same two from the same bond, though."
            Draco nodded. While the possibility existed, it was as he had thought: it was so low that it was essentially the same as a death sentence.
            "Yeah, I can't die," said Harry. "I have to live."
            Draco paused once, his wing tightening a little despite himself. Harry gave him a quick neutral look, and Draco shook his head. He needed more, after the dazzling smile that Harry had given him on the stairs. And while he would keep his promise not to ask about Harry's past and what had damaged the bond that badly, at least as much as he could, he needed to ask about something else.
            "Can I talk to you now, Harry?" he asked, and made his voice as friendly and accommodating as he could. "We should start creating the grounds for that compromise."
            Harry nodded, although the look he cast at Draco was measuring, that of someone who knew that he was up to something. He moved towards the library, and Aloren cocked his head and gave Draco a glance up and down.
            "You know that you can't plot against him," he said. "That he won't take any sort of secret plans well."
            "I know that," Draco said coldly. Aloren wasn't a hostile dominant trying to take Draco's mate away, but he was annoying. "That would be why I'm talking to him now."
            "You don't have any idea what you're up against," Aloren whispered, and the expression on his face was almost tender. "I don't think this is a situation that any Veela have ever faced since bonding came into being."
            "All the better for me," said Draco, with an expression he knew his mother would probably dismiss as stubborn. But this was Draco's life, and his bond, and he was the only one who could decide what he would put up with.
            "If you say so," said Aloren, after a long moment when Draco thought he would offer more unwanted advice, and his head inclined in a smooth bob. "I will come back if you summon me, but only then."
            He left. Draco watched him go, and only really relaxed when the front door of the house shut and he could be sure that Aloren was out of his domain.
            Or his submissive's domain. But he supposed he could think of them as sharing the house, since Harry was so reluctant to take up his traditional role.
            He still waited a moment before he turned and went into the library, but that was to brace himself for the confrontation to come as much as anything else.
*
            "I know that you said you wouldn't tell me about your past that led up to the damage to the bond, and I would try not to ask. But I wanted to ask about something else. What made you so absolutely committed to leading the peace effort?"
            "Admit it," Harry said, keeping his back turned as he examined the books on the shelves. There was nothing here that looked as if it would be useful to him, unlike some of the other libraries on the upper floors. There was only general magic theory, and a few books on wizarding history. He supposed this was the "respectable" library that the Malfoys could show to anyone who came in from the Ministry and wanted to see what they were reading. "You were about to say absurdly committed."
            "Maybe I was. So help me understand."
            Harry sighed and turned around. He thought it wouldn't do much harm. This was all documented in newspapers, for one thing. Malfoy could find out even if he didn't ask Harry, and Harry would rather that he ask him so he could control the flow of information.
            It was different from things like the Horcrux, which Harry was never going to admit to, and the Dursleys, which Harry would only admit to his friends. And maybe it would help Malfoy understand Harry's insistence on a political career.
            "I knew the war would continue, after it was supposedly over," he said quietly. "Some Death Eaters sent me owls swearing vengeance and saying they would attack Hogwarts if I ever went back there. And then I started hearing from Muggleborns who felt mistreated, and pure-bloods who did, and the Ministry told me about all the problems brewing under the surface."
            "The Muggleborns and the pure-bloods and the Ministry were writing to you?"
            Harry frowned at Malfoy, not understanding the flat disbelief in his eyes and voice. On the other hand, maybe he should have anticipated it. Of course he would finally tell the truth and have Malfoy promptly disregard it. "Not the Ministry. I was there daily, testifying at the trials and talking about how I defeated Voldemort and whether I'd enter Auror training. But lots of letters from other people, yes."
            "Why, though?" Malfoy's wings arched up like bows and flexed, once. Harry stepped prudently aside in case he tried to fly across the room with Harry in the way. "They couldn't have found someone else who could have handled their problems? You've already done enough."
            Harry paused. "I agreed with that at first." Sometimes he still did. "But there's a saying, if you want something done, you give it to someone busy. They probably thought I'd be good at saving the world again because I'd already done it once."
            "They should still have found better people to carry the burden," Malfoy insisted. He snapped his wings down again when he noticed Harry watching them, but he sounded upset. "Older people."
            Harry snorted and folded his arms. "Admit it, you only care about that because I'm your mate. You wouldn't give a shit about what I was doing if I wasn't."
            Malfoy glared at him. Then he said, when he seemed to realize that Harry was waiting for an answer, "And you can blame me, with our history?"
            Harry paused, then shrugged. He supposed not. He wouldn't have cared what Malfoy was doing after the war as long as he didn't attack one of Harry's friends or do something that would make Harry have to testify at another trial.
            "Fine," said Malfoy, wrapping his wings around his body as if he was cold this time. "So they were writing to you. But I've seen you ignore people writing to you and about you before. What made you change your mind this time?"
            "I was so angry at everything, all the time," Harry said. "I needed something to take my mind off the war. And here were all these people telling me another war was going to come along soon, and I'd have to fight in it. I got angry at those people, finally. It took about a week after the war," he added, smiling. He could remember the night when he'd made the decision calmly now. "I decided that I was going to tell them all to fuck off, the ones who wanted me to fight and the ones who were threatening me, by dedicating myself to peace."
            Malfoy was still staring, and Harry shrugged again. "I told you once before that my reason was selfish. I'm not some paragon, no matter what the people writing to me wanted to think."
            "I didn't mean to say you were." Malfoy's voice was quiet. "But tell me the story of how you decided it. Was it one day, or did it take longer than that?"
            "I almost destroyed my room," Harry admitted. "I was so frustrated, because first I thought about starting a peace process and then I thought of the Ministry and how badly they were botching it. So I lashed out with my magic because I couldn't see any way to do it."
            "What happens when you lash out with your magic?"
            "I almost destroy things," Harry said, wondering if he happened to be mated to a deaf Veela, and maybe Veela developed deafness at a later age than other people.
            "No," said Malfoy, and his voice was almost eerie now in how flat and seemingly lifeless it was. "Tell me the story. What did it look like? What spells did you use?"
            Harry peered at him again. It was such a strange thing to want to know. He thought Malfoy's goal was to get Harry to be submissive to him. How would knowing something about Harry's magic and how dangerous it was help him with that goal?
            But Harry decided that was Malfoy's business. And in a way, it would be a relief to describe this like he couldn't even to his friends. Ron would have listened, but Hermione wanted Harry to hold onto his temper, and wouldn't have been pleased to know about a time he lost it. And Harry wasn't going to ask Ron to keep secrets from Hermione.
            "I can't really tell you about spells. I was striking out with so much power that I couldn't even put it in words. It would land on a wall, and the wall would shudder and buckle." Harry tried to think of how to describe the small craters his magic had put in the walls, and finally came up with, "It looked like the place a meteor would have landed."
            He wondered if he'd have to explain the Muggle science term to Malfoy, but Malfoy said in what sounded like a breathless voice, "Go on."
            Harry nodded. "Anyway, I was making these colored flashes appear above me, and these whips that made things catch on fire where they landed. And this ball of white fire hovered above my hand. I could feel how hot it was, but somehow I knew it wouldn't burn me. I knew I could throw it at something and it would burn it whole, though. Leave not even ashes behind."
            "How can you hang onto your temper when there's such power waiting to be accessed?" Malfoy's eyes were huge.
            "Because it's only power," said Harry, a little confused. "It's not even the kind of power that can help me do what I need to do. Unless I want to scare everyone into behaving, and set myself up as dictator. Which I don't."
            Malfoy lowered his gaze to the floor. Harry waited for him to ask another question, but he didn't, so Harry added, "And besides, I don't always keep it under control. You saw that when I pinned you to the wall in the library." He grimaced. "I'm sorry for losing it like that."
            "You're sorry for pinning me, or sorry for losing your temper?" Malfoy's eyes were back on him.
            "Both?" Harry offered, unsure himself. He shook his head. He hadn't felt this uncertain in a while. At least he knew where he was with a schedule of meetings and peace talks and public appearances, and even with something a little silly like receiving an Order of Merlin. He knew what impression the public would take away from that, and it was a good one.
            Or would have been, if Malfoy hadn't ambushed him during the ceremony.
            He scowled a little at Malfoy, who was obviously thinking of something else. "Why is Granger always telling you to hold onto your temper?"
            "It's not just her. Kingsley does the same thing when I have a public appearance for the Ministry and losing my temper could ruin it. And that's the sort of thing that really could."
            "But they keep insisting that you hold onto your temper, and there are some people you would impress if you lost it. And your magic could make you a power in the world in another way." Malfoy leaned forwards. "What did Granger say when you told her that you almost destroyed your room?"
            And this is what happens when you start talking about this kind of thing to Malfoy, Harry scolded himself. It makes you disloyal to your best friends.
            "I haven't told her," he admitted, and then turned away when Malfoy's wings snapped up and a sound that was far too delighted broke from his throat. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore."
            "Please."
            Harry paused in the middle of pulling a random book off the shelf. That sound was too breathy and discontented. He turned around.
            Malfoy was on his knees with one wing extended to him as though he was balancing a platter on it. "You don't know how much this means to me, to hear about this, and know it's our secret alone, when you won't tell me about more of the past," he said, and bowed his head. "Please don't take this from me."
            "Merlin, Malfoy, get up," Harry said, and crossed the room to grip his arms and pull him to his feet. "Don't--don't kneel to me. Please. Not ever. I hate that." He ran his fingers through his hair and patted Malfoy's shoulder awkwardly above the wing. "Fine, I won't stop talking about it. But there's not much more to say. Hermione wouldn't approve. That's why I didn't tell her."
            "I'm glad to know that you would tell me," said Malfoy, and smiled at him. "Even if it's because you don't care that much about what I would say. It says you trust me in a way you don't trust her."
            Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands. He had known this would come up sooner or later. Malfoy just had to insist that this happened because of distrusting his friends, or some other nonsense.
            "I don't want you to be in competition with each other, okay?" he asked the floor. "I don't want them feeling like I'm neglecting them for you, and I don't want you to feel like I'm talking to them about you behind your back."
            "Do they know all about the part of your past that you won't talk to me about?"
            "Not all of it," said Harry. He'd said that because he didn't want Malfoy coming up with the bright idea to question Ron and Hermione, but from the way that Malfoy brightened and preened a little, he was taking it yet another way. Harry sighed again. He didn't know how to handle this. He wanted to lose his temper and he couldn't. He wanted to tell Malfoy to shut up and get away from him, and he couldn't.
            And why did Malfoy care about knowing all those insignificant things about him, anyway? It didn't make sense.
*
            Draco watched the expressions flicker across Harry's face, and smiled in what he hoped came across as a sympathetic way. From the scowl Harry gave him, and the torn emotions pulsing down the ragged bond, it didn't.
            But Draco wanted to be sympathetic. Harry had told him some private facts. He had admitted that he didn't tell his friends everything. He had wanted Draco to stand up and not kneel to him, which was an excellent sign that he meant what he said and didn't want to occupy the dominant role in Draco's place.
            What if Draco took most of what he said as true as well? That he didn't care that much about Draco, but also didn't want to hurt him, and he had a temper, and he didn't want to lose it, and his magic was really that strong?
            It changed some things. Draco could look on Harry with a kinder eye, and think about the bond a different way.
            "All right," he said. "Thank you for telling me what you did."
            Harry paused and turned to stare over his shoulder at Draco. He appeared stricken. Draco didn't know why. He meant what he'd said, and he gave a little bow and walked to the library door.
            "Where are you going?" Harry's voice floated after him.
            "I'm giving you some privacy," Draco said, and paused and looked back at him. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"
            Harry shrugged again, looking embarrassed. "I don't mean to chase you out of rooms in your own house, you know."
            "It's your house as much as mine," Draco said. "Not more," he continued hastily, when he saw Harry's scowl start forming. "Not because you're the submissive. But it's your home, too. You can invite other people over and read the books and put charms on your doors to lock them if you want."
            And he left, because Harry's face was a picture he didn't want to spoil.
            Nothing is going to be the same as I thought it was. But maybe, Draco thought, considering the shiver of pleasure that had run through him when Harry told him the truth and again when Harry pulled him back to his feet, it can be better.
*
SP777: Well, Draco has found one breakthrough: Harry won’t talk about his childhood or the Horcrux, but he’ll talk about other things. And some privacy and intimacy are most of what Draco wants.
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Nature of the Beast