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An Image of Lethe	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21751 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter Thirteen—Battles Averted
            “So. You’re here.”
            Draco tried to keep from snapping as he concentrated on the book in front of him. It was one that Astoria had brought him early that morning, commenting that it seemed like it might help, but the handwriting was so cramped it was difficult for her to read. Draco had immediately seized it. A handwritten journal—probably—could aid them a lot more than a book other people would also have on the shelves of their libraries.
            “Malfoy? Are you paying attention to me?”
            More than I’d like, Draco thought, but he shut the book and turned around. “I am,” he said, and kept his face empty. “What do you want?”
            “To know why you’re here.” Weasley stood with his arms folded near the doorway. He hadn’t even looked around at all the books on the shelves, which Draco would have thought was the point of a library you didn’t visit often. He looked straight into Draco’s face as if that would tell him what treachery Draco was plotting next. Draco found his temper rising, and had to place one hand on the book to remind himself of what was important. “Why would you join Harry’s effort to—to—”
            “You don’t know, do you?” Draco had to smile. “Granger is working with us, and you didn’t know.”
            Weasley glared at him. “I did know. It’s the reason that I wasn’t writing to Harry very often and staying away from him. Hermione wanted to save me to be a spy on the inside. But after the Ministry arrested Bill and then Fleur, they probably wouldn’t trust me, either.” He turned to the side as if he was going to finally examine a shelf, but Draco was keeping one eye on the wand he clutched. “I just thought you were living somewhere else.”
            Draco tried to remember if he had ever told Granger outright that he and the others were staying here. Maybe not. But Weasley was still upset over nothing. “Potter has plenty of room in the house. It makes for a convenient meeting place.”
            “And your ancestors lived here, so that’s something, right?” Weasley sounded as if he was jeering, now.
            Draco froze for a second, wondering how Weasley knew about Aster. But then Weasley turned around and jabbed a finger at him, and crowed, “I knew it!”, and Draco suspected this was about something else.
            “You knew what?” he asked coldly, almost wishing he had simply concentrated on the book and let Weasley’s words wash over him. He didn’t need this, not on top of the way that Potter had simply leaped into the Aurors’ arms and let them carry him away. Plan or not, Draco doubted Potter had his own good in mind half the time.
            “I knew you wanted to take the Black house away from Harry!” Weasley moved slowly into the middle of the room, and Draco recognized a battle stance. Well, he thought Weasley had started Auror training. “You wanted to inherit it when Sirius died, and probably that crazy aunt of yours—”
            “Don’t talk about her,” Draco said automatically. It wasn’t like he mourned Bellatrix, but her name brought up a whole surge of emotions that he wasn’t ready to deal with. She was the one who had taught him Occlumency and torn into his mind, and she was also the one who had tortured Fenrir Greyback once for having the temerity to touch Draco. She was too crazy for Draco to know what he felt.
            “I won’t,” said Weasley. “You probably hoped she would inherit the Black fortune and leave it to you, and she didn’t. That hurts, huh?”
            Draco wondered what Weasley would say if he told him that inheriting the house, with its impenetrable wards, would have been far more convenient than inheriting a fortune, but the wondering was pointless, since it wasn’t like Draco would tell him. Draco shut the book and stood up. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m off to find a quieter place to read.”
            “If you’re planning to betray Harry, then I need to warn him,” Weasley said, and stepped in front of Draco when he tried to leave the library.
            Draco boiled over before he could stop himself. “You idiot, you don’t even know if Potter’s coming back from the Ministry! And without his help, I don’t have anywhere to go, and there’s no—there’s no rebellion, there’s no chance for me to do anything but flee Britain or let them put me through the Lightfinder, and then there’s no anything. Shut up! You don’t matter next to that!”
            Weasley stared at him in what seemed such surprise that Draco was viciously glad he’d said the words, although Potter might be angry at him later. Then again, that whole thing hinged on Potter’s survival.
            “You really don’t want the house?” Weasley asked, and stepped absently in front of Draco again when Draco tried to make his way around him.
            “No,” said Draco, and glared hard enough that he thought Weasley either had to go for his wand or sue for peace, which he did by lifting his hands.
            “Well. All right, then.” Weasley scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “But why did you come to Harry at all?”
            Draco sighed. He wanted to be alone and read the book, or at least with Pansy and read the book. But he thought that Weasley might leave him alone if he answered the question honestly. “Because I knew he was already under suspicion from the Ministry, and I wouldn’t draw more if I went to him. But he’s also powerful enough to fight this—if he gets his head out of his arse and decides to stop overreacting to every little thing.”
            Weasley flushed. “My sister-in-law being imprisoned isn’t a little thing.”
            “Well, it is next to the whole of Britain and the loads of people who might be imprisoned on even less justification,” said Draco, unimpressed. “You might not want to hear it, but that’s the way it is.”
            “Harry can’t be the one to stop that, though.” Weasley shook his head. “It was one thing when he was facing Voldemort. That had a prophecy behind it, and Harry was the only one who could destroy him. But there’s no prophecy this time, and Harry’s just one person. He deserves a holiday from saving the world, too.”
            “Excuse me for not thinking that,” said Draco. It at least confirmed that Weasley wasn’t going to turn against Potter any time soon, but turning against Potter wasn’t the same as supporting Draco—at least not if Weasley decided it wasn’t. “He’s the one who has the political power from the last world-saving adventure he was on. And the Ministry isn’t going to leave him alone, anyway.”
            “So he was a convenience.” Weasley’s eyes were blazing again.
            “He was someone who would listen to me,” said Draco, as bluntly as he could. Maybe Weasley would back off if he said that. “He’s someone who could help me, and that’s the way it was. He agreed, too.”
            He finally brushed past Weasley, and went up to the room that Potter had given him. He lay back on the bed, arranged his pillows so he could prop his head up at a comfortable angle and read the book at the same time, and tried to go back to reading.
            But it was no good. His mind was blazing the way it had when he was younger and had a violent illness, various images of what might happen to—or without—Potter coiling through his sight like fever dreams.
            Everything really was at an end if this was the end of Potter.
            Come back safe, Potter.
*
            “It wasn’t you, Harry,” said Kingsley, and caught his hand. “I knew it couldn’t be. I knew it had something to do with Voldemort.”
            Harry gave him a small smile and looked down at the part of his chest where the amulet should have hung. It wasn’t there; of course it wasn’t, given that the Unseen spell still held and it was invisible. But it did make him want to touch it and thank the Unseen for their help. Lying to Kingsley would have been a lot harder without it.
            Of course, that only made him wonder exactly what price the Unseen were going to demand for their aid, sooner or later.
            Kingsley interrupted again before Harry could pursue the thought to its logical conclusion. “And that means we can continue the tests but change them,” he said, and sighed out, sitting down in the leather chair behind his desk and looking at Harry with pleasure and satisfaction that made Harry want to sigh himself. Kingsley didn’t really want to believe Harry was evil, that much was clear; he had done it only because the evidence seemed overwhelming.
            But he never thought that the Lightfinder showing a dark color wasn’t the same thing as finding a taint in the soul.
            However, if Harry was going to use that perception to fool Kingsley and Splinter and other people, now wasn’t the time to complain about it. “What are you going to change the tests to?” he asked quietly, and took the chair on the other side of Kingsley’s desk when Kingsley gestured to him.
            Splinter, who had hovered nearby and listened with wide eyes while Harry told the whole story of the Horcrux and the shred of Voldemort’s soul still beckoning to him, interrupted at that point. “We need to make sure they don’t damage your magic. What we need to damage is the piece of soul that’s hiding in you.”
            “Exactly,” said Kingsley, nodding. “Before, we knew that being free of the Dark affinity was worth any price, but there was a chance that Lethe would have damaged your magic.”
            Harry swallowed back the horror that gripped him. No matter what he said, he was certain, they wouldn’t understand it. For one thing, they had both grown up in the wizarding world. They had never lived a time of their lives without magic, and didn’t understand what it would mean to Harry to go back to that kind of existence.
            For another, Harry needed to encourage this kind of idea so they could continue with the plan. It was just hard to remember that, sometimes, when he knew he had people hiding at home and in prison who could be benefited if Kingsley would only see sense.
            “And—and you’ll let Bill and Fleur go?” he asked timidly, looking from Kingsley’s face to Splinter’s.
            Splinter didn’t say anything, but looked at the Minister. Kingsley sighed and touched his face. “You have to understand, Harry. Attacking Azkaban is no small thing, isn’t something we can let go, in case other people decide that the rules don’t apply to them, either.”
            Harry blinked rapidly and sat up. “But don’t you know that Fleur is a Veela and was attacking Azkaban because Bill is her mate and she needs him?” In truth, he wasn’t sure how full-Veela Fleur actually was, but it sure made a good excuse, and it probably had its roots in the truth. “I thought there were exceptions in the laws for Veela who needed their mates back and did something that would usually be considered criminal. After all, they have to have their mates back to survive. It’s not like they can help it.”
            Kingsley blinked. “I didn’t think she was as much Veela as all that. I did work with her and Bill in the Order for a while. I think I would have known—”
            “Well, her attacking Azkaban shows it, doesn’t it?” Harry demanded. “Do you think she would have done something so mental when you knew her?”
            Kingsley hesitated for long moments. Again, Splinter didn’t say anything. Harry thought he didn’t care that much about things like people in Azkaban, except for how they affected Harry. His focus was Harry and Harry’s magic.
            Maybe. Harry wanted to use Aster’s spell to find out, but now wasn’t the time or the place, when he was on the verge of convincing Kingsley.
            “That doesn’t account for Weasley’s initial imprisonment, of course,” Kingsley said at last. “Or the color he tested in the Lightfinder.”
            He’s in prison because your lot put him there. But Harry knew better than to say something like that. He thought he would have even if it wasn’t for the warning and help of the Unseen, and the ability to lie. He spent a moment fidgeting with his eyes on his hands, and then stood up and said in some agitation, “Well, if I was tainted by being a Horcrux, what do you think he was?”
            Kingsley looked at him with his mouth open for a second, as though he was going to ask what Harry meant, but then he closed it again and looked wise. “The scars on his face.”
            “Exactly,” Harry sighed, and sat down again. “When a werewolf like Fenrir Greyback attacks you and scars your face…” He shrugged. “I’d like to see how pure even someone who tested red would be, if that happened to them.”
            Kingsley looked as though someone had slapped him and he thought he deserved it. “I can’t believe I was so blind,” he whispered. “I never even considered that explanation. Or the one that makes sense of your color, either.” He looked at Harry intently.
            “How could anyone know what I was?” Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore specifically said that I couldn’t tell anyone except Ron and Hermione. And it was a jolly good job Voldemort didn’t know, or he wouldn’t have cast that Killing Curse at me.”
            “The Killing Curse should have destroyed the Horcrux,” Splinter announced at that moment. “Shouldn’t it?”
            “I don’t really know,” said Harry, and let his face fall. “I know that’s what Dumbledore hoped would happen. But even though I don’t feel like I have a connection to some separate being anymore, I can still hear it. Whispering.”
            He shivered violently with disgust, not even having to feign it. He didn’t want to be reminded of the taint on his soul, and what he had been for most of his life without knowing it. If there had been a way to burn out the feeling of being a Horcrux without touching anything else, then he would have taken it in a heartbeat.
            “Yes, we can’t take any chances,” said Splinter, and he looked pleased with himself again. “Perhaps we should concentrate our efforts first on those touched or tainted by the Dark, and then we can help those unfortunate souls.”
            “And will you release Bill and Fleur?” Harry made appealing eyes at Kingsley again. “They really won’t get better if they’re in prison, and Fleur is shut away from her mate, and Bill is left alone with those scars festering on his face. And maybe Greyback’s voice whispering to him.”
            Kingsley looked at Splinter, but he was writing notes down, and seemed as uninterested in the fate of anyone who wasn’t Harry as ever. Kingsley faced Harry, looking thoughtful. “If you’re willing to sponsor their continued good behavior, Harry…”
            “Yes.” Harry didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course I will. I can advise them to stay in Shell Cottage for right now and not venture out in public the way I do, for example. That would probably help.”
            “It would soothe any public outrage. When we explain what happened, of course, and make the public see they were only innocent victims, then the outrage should ease.”
            Harry had his private doubts about that, with the fear the Ministry had stirred up that there were Dark wizards walking around, hidden, everywhere someone looked, but if he had tried to argue with Kingsley and Splinter about that, he would have failed. He only bowed his head and looked as repentant as possible. “I hope it will, sir.”
            “Good,” said Kingsley, and there were lines of tension about his face that had been erased completely. “Then you’ll go with Splinter and do the last tests that we need before we’ll be able to complete Lethe?” He smiled winsomely at Harry. “I’m not above begging, if I have to, but I don’t think I will. You understand the necessity for this, and for making sure that we get rid of that piece of soul in your head.”
            Harry resigned himself to it. It wasn’t any different from what he would have spent most of the day doing, anyway, if he hadn’t run into the Unseen and had simply marched into Splinter’s hands again. “Yes, sir.”
            “Good.” Kingsley stood up and came around the desk. Harry thought he would just walk out the door, but instead, he gripped Harry’s shoulder in a crushing way and bent down to hug him. “You don’t know how happy and relieved you’ve made me,” he whispered. “Yes, it’s horrifying to know that You-Know-Who has been affecting you this long, but at least you’re going to come back.” His hands tightened, and he stood there for a second until Splinter cleared his throat. Then he turned and walked out of the room without looking at anyone again.
            Harry stood up, blinking, and turned to Splinter, who gave him a somber glance. “We need to do some recalculations on Lethe and make sure that we have it right,” he muttered, as if that was Harry’s fault. “You do realize how inconvenient this is for us? Why didn’t you tell us about this Horcrux thing from the beginning?”
            Exhausted, more than he’d thought he would be from the simple effort of lying, Harry told the truth. “Because I didn’t want people staring at me and thinking I’m mental.”
            Splinter’s face softened a little. “Better to be mental than Dark,” he said, and then gestured commandingly at the door. Harry followed him out it, one hand on his wand. If he could cast the spell that would tell him what Splinter was really thinking about him, the spell Aster had shown him and Malfoy…
            But Aurors joined them beyond the doors, although they didn’t surround Harry as closely as he thought they would have a day ago, and Harry dropped his hand away from his wand with a sigh. Perhaps he would just have to wait and hope he could find out the truth later.
*
            Draco spun around when he heard the door shut below him. Weasley, who’d taken to lurking across the library and toying with a book as if he wanted to convince Draco he could understand Dark magical theory after Draco came back to the library, stood up at once.
            Draco swallowed, but it made his throat feel painful, and he shook his head in irritation. He walked over to the edge of the staircase and waited for some sign that this was safe, instead of Aurors invading the house.
            He heard Kreacher’s obsequious questions, and relaxed. He opened his mouth to call to Potter, but Weasley rushed up beside him and interrupted him. “Harry! Did you get Bill and Fleur out, mate?”
            Potter paused in taking off his cloak below them and looked up with a faint smile. Draco rubbed one shoulder where the tension had knotted painfully. He really hadn’t thought he would see that smile again.
            And he would have missed it. He could admit that to himself, if he wasn’t going to admit it to anyone else.
            “Yes,” Potter said. “I convinced them that Fleur only attacked Azkaban because she was a Veela who needed a mate, and that Bill wasn’t Dark, he was just influenced by the werewolf scars on his face.” He hesitated, looked once at Draco in a minutely probing way that Draco resented, and then added, “And I told them I wasn’t Dark, I was just influenced by the Horcrux that lingered in my soul. I told them I could still hear Voldemort’s voice whispering to me and tempting me to evil.”
            “That,” said Draco, and surprised himself with the supreme coldness of his voice, “was perhaps the worst thing you could have done. Now they’ll distrust all the Dark wizards even more. Now they’ll continue to think of Dark wizards as evil.”
            “They already think that,” Weasley began, with a scowl at Draco that seemed to erase the hours they had spent in relative, tense peace.
            “It was a tactic that I didn’t really want to use, but it does give us one useful thing,” said Potter, shaking his head. “A spy in the inside ranks. Kingsley’s going to trust me now and be calmer around me. I’m not sure about Splinter, but at least Kingsley won’t hide information from me and think of me as an enemy. And that could be useful.”
            Draco stood rigidly still for a moment, and then inclined his head. At least it seemed as if Potter wasn’t denying his own affinity and stretching things out in an unacceptable way. Draco could accept that, as long as it didn’t come to denial.
            Weasley was probably also right that no one in the Ministry would accept Potter’s explanation of Dark not being evil right now, and would only have regarded him as more untrustworthy if he tried to push it. But Draco was free to dislike the measure even while he acknowledged the necessity.
            As Draco watched, Potter’s hand rose as if to toy with something around his neck. He flinched a second lat and lowered his hand back to his side. That made Draco wonder what in the world hung there. He couldn’t see anything, but Potter hadn’t made the gesture at his neck before he left.
            Weasley was chattering to Potter about affairs concerning the rest of his family that Draco had no interest in. He held Potter’s eyes for one moment before he withdrew to the library.
            He was sure something had happened. But although he listened to the rising and falling tones of their voices, or rather Weasley’s voice with Potter’s calm replies, he heard nothing that sounded like an explanation.
            That meant Potter was hiding it from his friend. That could be fine, as long as he didn’t think that he could hide it from Draco.
            In the end, the respite proved a good thing, because Draco managed to stop the inexplicable shaking of his hands that had plagued him since the moment of his seeing Potter. He had felt that way a few times when the Carrows had taken one of his friends into their offices in Hogwarts, and Draco had thought it would be the last time he’d ever see them.
            He’d felt that way when the Aurors came through Astoria’s door.
            It suggested certain things about Potter’s importance to him that Draco did not like. Of course, it was mixed up with Potter’s importance to the resistance movement they were launching, but he still didn’t like it.
            He was still thinking about it when he heard a movement near the door and looked up. Potter was there, with Pansy right behind him. Pansy came over to take the chair near Draco, wrinkling her nose.
            “You have something around your neck that irritates my senses, Potter,” she said. “What is it?”
            “Yes,” Draco said, holding Potter’s gaze, “tell me.”
            “Us,” Pansy corrected, but Potter responded more to Draco’s entreaty than to hers, Draco thought, as he nodded and moved towards the chair in front of Draco.
            “Yes,” he said. “You deserve to know.”
            Draco slowly nodded. As long as he thinks that.
*
staar: Harry doesn’t know much about them at all yet.
SP777: The Unseen are mostly going to have pretentious names of various types—uncommon words.
And some action should be upcoming next chapter, if you mean battle.
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An Image of Lethe