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A Black Stone in a Glass Box	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10352 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Fourteen—The Pale Web

            Potter’s lips were open and wet and warm against Draco’s. Draco curled his tongue into motion, licking at Potter, knowing that Potter’s mouth was only open because he was shouting in shock and had nothing to do with how talented Draco was at kissing, but also knowing that that didn’t diminish how brilliant the kiss was.

            Because it was brilliant. Draco had shared more tender kisses with his other lovers, and more passionate ones, too, but none that were as warm, as charged, flickering with the potential for more. Like the way a storm-charged sky flickered with the lightning, and the potential for thunder to come, Draco thought hazily. If he’d been able to bring his hands up and away from that bloody web, he would have clutched at Potter’s head and showed him more of what a kiss from Draco could do.

            It was shock, too, that kept Potter as still as long as he was. Draco knew it. It didn’t stop him from sampling Potter’s mouth, again and again, sucking at his lips, moaning a little in delight at the way his tongue tasted.

            Then Potter yanked his head away, and leaped aside, and stood there with one hand raised as if he would beat his own face in, staring at Draco.

            Draco licked his lips, slowly, taking his time. He let Potter see him doing it. He met Potter’s gaze, and his smile deepened, and he inclined his head a little as he hummed, “Mmm. Has anyone ever told you that you’re delicious?”

            Potter shut his eyes. He stood there, still. Draco watched him. He was vaguely surprised that Potter hadn’t come over to beat his face in, or at least that Potter hadn’t started screaming curses or flinging hexes. That must be one powerful burst of shock to last that long.

            Then Potter’s glazed eyes slid open, and Draco caught his breath. It wasn’t shock that had overcome Potter. It was passion.

            How long since he was kissed like that? And even though this chain ritual only seems to have affected him for a couple of weeks, that might be long enough for him to forget what some intense emotions felt like.

            Potter stared at Draco for one second more and turned his head away. His face was bright, rosy pink. One hand lifted to his mouth, and he wiped his lips and then spat theatrically on the floor of the tunnel.

            Too late. Draco smiled, while his heart thrummed into overdrive the way it had when he was actually kissing Potter. He had seen what he had seen, and pursuing a reluctant lover had always been one of his favorite activities.

            “I saw what you felt,” he whispered, and while he had tried his best to make his voice less taunting, he didn’t succeed. “I know what you felt. It felt good, didn’t it? Warm. Striking to the center of you, and making you realize that you’ve missed experiences like that, and all of your self-centered smugness about saving the world can’t compare to—”

            That finally got Potter to shoot back across the tunnel, and drive his wand into Draco’s throat. Draco broke off and widened his eyes, although he didn’t try to shake his head, not with Potter’s wand pressing into cartilage and tendons.

            “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Malfoy.” Potter’s voice was thick and hoarse, familiar, although Draco had to concentrate to remember where he’d last heard it. At Hogwarts, when Potter was so often angry at him that it was difficult for him to speak. Draco didn’t bother to hide the smile that flooded across his face, because he didn’t think Potter would kill him for smiling. “I have a good—I have a good life. I have lovers you know nothing about.”

            “And none of them wondered why you stopped firecalling them for a fortnight?” Draco clucked his tongue. “You might have had good lovers, but they couldn’t have been recent.”

            Potter shut his eyes. He was shaking, but to Draco’s disappointment, it didn’t seem likely that the vibrations in his wand and limbs would build up to the point where he would start shaking the web and Draco could break free. “I’ll thank you to leave them alone,” he whispered. “They don’t bother you.”

            “Well, no,” Draco conceded, after considering this for a moment. “But they aren’t taking care of you, either, the way they should. Otherwise, you would have been disgusted or at least familiar with my kiss. But you haven’t had a lot of passion in your life lately, have you?”

            “You’re disgusting,” Potter whispered back, with the force behind his words that Draco would have expected to hear from him in the beginning. “Disgusting. You can say what you like about me, but don’t—don’t say anything about other people.”

            Draco leaned his chin on a strand of the web that ran right below his face and smiled at Potter. “I doubt you mean that. Whenever I tell you that you’re stupid for doing this chain ritual, which is no more than truth, you get upset. I think that you’re going to get upset no matter what I say.”

            Potter cursed him, comprehensively, although not the kind that would make him break out in boils, and then reached up and touched his wand to certain key strands of the web. They broke, and Draco sagged towards the ground. Potter scooped him up with another wave of his wand that knotted some of the strands around Draco like a cocoon, and then turned. Draco bobbed at his shoulder like an apple in water as Potter strode towards what was presumably the entrance of the tunnel.

            “You could drop the anti-Apparition wards now,” Draco offered. “Since you have me captured.”

            “I don’t trust you not to get away,” Potter retorted bluntly over his shoulder, and kept walking.

            Draco closed his eyes, basking a little in what Potter had said, even though he was stuck tight—literally—in the web, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out again. It was so nice to be respected.

*

            When Potter finally Apparated them, Draco didn’t expect to recognize the destination, and he didn’t. Potter took him to a clearing in the middle of a forest where the trees loomed high and large around him. Draco thought they were hemlocks. He could think of all sorts of appropriate reasons for them, but he stifled his laughter, because he didn’t think Potter would like him to start snickering helplessly.

            Potter turned to face him, his hands planted on his hips, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

            “You could let me go, give me back the fang, and let me kiss you again,” Draco suggested helpfully.

            To his surprise, there was an absolute tumult of red color up Potter’s cheeks, and he turned his head away and coughed. “Besides that, I meant, Malfoy,” he said, and his voice had gone interestingly strangled.

            Draco sat up as much as he could in the web. “So you thought about it too! Damn, I’m an even better kisser than I thought I was.”

            Potter narrowed his eyes and tightened the web around Draco with a few sharp jerks of his wrists. Draco lounged back as much as he could in the web that wrapped him and widened his eyes at Potter. He thought the world needed some balance, so dark and forbidding were the snake-like slits of Potter’s eyes.

            “You have no idea what I could do to you, if I wanted,” Potter whispered, and for a second, his hand shook on his wand. “The spells I know, that I was taught because I’m an Auror. And now there’s no one around to scold me about prisoners’ rights. I can use any of them, and what exactly are you going to do?”

            “I don’t know,” Draco said peacefully. “I doubt I could do a lot if you really wanted to kill me, that’s true. But have you considered that keeping me prisoner isn’t a viable option, either?”

            Potter sneered. “Why not? No one knows I have you.”

            “My parents would start looking for me, if I’m gone for too long,” Draco said, settling his shoulders back into the web and shrugging a little. Of course, it was too strong to be broken that way, but any little bit that could weaken it might help. “And your friends know that I’m involved in doing something to you now, too. They would ask you about me if I went missing, and you wouldn’t be able to lie to them.”

            Potter shook his head, once, twice, quickly, as though that would force Draco to make more sense. “You can’t do anything as long as I keep you here,” he said. He sounded as though he and not Draco was the one who had a web wrapped around his throat. “Your interference has no point. I’ll just wait until—”

            He faltered, and Draco nodded and smiled at him. “Right,” he said. “If I don’t have much ability to escape from you and continue breaking the chain ritual, you also don’t have much reason to hold me. The chain ritual isn’t whole anymore. You can’t leave me and create a new one without breaking down the components that still remain. That might return you to your former state of mind because all your emotions would come pouring free. If you just stay here and wait, then you won’t care about those things anymore, and you’re likely to let me go because I ask you to, the way you showed me where the golden bird was because I asked you to.”

            Potter was breathing as heavily as a dragon getting ready to snort fire. “I can’t believe how unscrupulous you are, Malfoy,” he whispered, as though that was something to regret.

            Draco grinned at him. “There’s that, of course. But you don’t have much more choice than I do. We’re caught in a game that’s going to end in stalemate if you keep me here.” He paused, and repeated more carefully, “If you keep me here.”

            “You think I’d be fool enough to let you go, now that I have you?” Potter stared at him. “I might be less passionate than you’re used to, but I’m not stupid, Malfoy.”

            “Really,” Draco said. “Because you thought this plan was a good idea, and you thought keeping the ritual secret from your friends was a good idea, and you thought the ritual was a good idea in the first place—”

            “Shut up!” Potter shouted, stepping towards him. One of the trees leaning over the clearing caught fire from the sheer, outraged aura of his magic beating around him. Potter cast a spell to put it out, but never took his eyes from Draco’s face. “Protecting the world is more important than whatever you’re bleating on about.”

            “I’m bleating about getting you back to normal,” Draco said. “And the problem is that this plan isn’t a very good one for protecting the world. For all the reasons that I’ve already mentioned.” Despite what he’d said, he didn’t think Potter was stupid, just shortsighted, and that meant he should be able to remember what Draco had already told him, all the reasons he’d named, and that he shouldn’t need to have them recited again.

            Potter shut his eyes. “We’ll need to wait a while,” he whispered. “Then the ritual should change me back into what the world needs me to be.”

            “How do you know that the ritual is still working the way it’s supposed to, now that you’ve partially emerged from the trance?” Draco asked, and worked his way back against the web. This time, it was because his shoulders hurt, and he gave a little grunt of discomfort when he couldn’t get them into the right position.

            Potter glanced up, sighed, and cast a spell that loosened some of the strands of the web. Draco nodded to him, and tried a smile that made Potter simply stare at him. After a moment, he turned away and continued speaking.

            “The ritual is powerful. It should still work. We only have to wait until then, and I’ll be back to what I need to be.”

            “What will prevent me from simply asking you to free me and give me the fang?” Draco asked, in continued interest and helpfulness. Really, Potter should have come to Draco if he wanted ideas about protecting the world. Draco could give him plenty of them.

            “This,” Potter said, and held up the fang, staring at him. He tapped it with his wand, and the fang Vanished. Draco winced in spite of himself.

            “There,” Potter went on, and he looked as stupid and virtuous as he ever had. “Now you can’t continue breaking the ritual, and it won’t matter what I might do to you in a few hours.” He sat down on the grass and folded his arms.

            Draco watched him, but said nothing. He was starting to think that he shouldn’t be so helpful when it came to aiding Potter in defeating him.

            He did wonder, though, why anyone would want to feel their emotion and intelligence draining away from them.

*

            Perhaps two hours had passed, and Potter had given Draco a sandwich when he complained of hunger, before Potter took in a deep breath and laid his hand against his forehead. Draco glanced up, wondering if he was going back to his emotionless mask.

            Potter hunched forwards and stared at the grass. Draco snorted. Perhaps part of the enchantment returning was an obsession with simple things.

            But Potter looked up and stared at him. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “The ritual never mentioned anything like this.”

            Draco cocked his head. “Like what?”

            For a moment, Potter bit his lips, and Draco thought he regretted mentioning that much. But apparently the need to tell someone had overcome his reticence, because he muttered, “I don’t—I can feel someone getting ready to conduct a Dark Lord ritual. I can hear them talking about it. I don’t know who it is, but I know that they’re somewhere and getting ready to do it.” He swayed a little, before bringing his hands up and holding them against his forehead. “What—what is this?”

            “I don’t know, exactly,” Draco said, considering him as he leaned further back into the web, and flexed the hand Potter had set free so he could eat his sandwich. Draco had suggested that Potter feed the sandwich to him instead, but Potter had backed away and turned so red that Draco had been forced to yield to hunger. “I don’t know enough about the ritual you described to me. But it would probably mean that your chain ritual is permanently weakened now. You can’t prevent the gossip and the ambitions any more. More than half the components are gone, right? You had eight or nine?”

            “Eight,” Potter whispered, and then seemed to realize what he’d said, and stood up with his wand pointed at Draco. “I ought to Obliviate you, and then maybe you’re leave me alone,” he snarled.

            Draco rolled his eyes. “We both know that that wouldn’t work any better than keeping me captive for a long time would. One of my friends would find out, and I would wonder why you were here.” He paused, looking at the tip of Potter’s wand that was aimed right at his eyes, and added, “Besides, you’re too good to do it.”

            “I’ve done it to people before.” Potter waved his wand threateningly.

            “I’m sure that it was to defend yourself or someone else,” Draco said, and smiled a little when Potter hesitated. “Of course it was. You have to remember, Potter, I know you.”

            “You need to shut up,” Potter whispered, sounding fervent about it. “This—this isn’t what I planned on when I chose the ritual.”

            Draco stared at him, waiting for him to add to that statement, since it made no sense as it stood. When he didn’t, Draco shook his head and completed it for him. “Of course you didn’t,” he said. “You thought it would work. But you should remember what I keep telling you. You had no way of knowing that you wouldn’t manage to hang onto your secrets. You told me right away. You would have told someone else, too. Someone who wanted to be a Dark Lord and thought you might know secrets, for example. There’s no—there’s no way that this ritual could have worked. And it’s breaking down now.”

            Potter shivered. “All I wanted was to save the world,” he whispered.

            Draco would have liked to be compassionate about it, but he had to roll his eyes again. It was practically required of him. “That’s too big a goal to do by yourself,” he said. “You were too arrogant. Now you’re paying the price.”

            Potter shut his eyes and turned his head away. Draco held his tongue, because if he didn’t have any compassion for Potter, he wouldn’t have started this crazy dance in the first place. It was too much work to try and help someone who didn’t mean anything to him.

            “Then the only way,” Potter whispered suddenly, “is to end the rest of the ritual, and start over again once the rest of the components are gone.”

            Draco only had one time to blink before Potter whipped around, dissolved the web with a flick of his wand, and stepped forwards when Draco had barely stood up from his drop to the ground and began to wring his hands free of cramps.

            “And since you made this necessary in the first place, with your stupid interference, you’re going to help me,” Potter snapped.

*

            SP777: No, Harry’s style is more to jab a wand into everything. He might want to get that looked at.

            delia cerrano: Yes, and there’s more of it here. Hope you enjoy.

            polka dot: Draco’s not counting on Ron and Hermione to interfere, but he does enjoy how asking about them makes Harry angry.

            Seiren: Harry is going to be very reluctant to tell Draco what they said.
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A Black Stone in a Glass Box