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The Serenity of His Rage	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Chapter Fourteen—Professor Snape Does Not Approve

            Severus stopped when he got into the kitchen. Potter was sitting at the table as if he had been there every day before when Severus had visited, reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up and nodded a little at Severus, then turned and flipped over a sandwich he was cooking in a pan above the fire. The sandwich was made of toasted bread with cheese running out of it, Severus saw. Such a Muggle thing.

            “Where is Mr. Malfoy?” he asked Potter, and if Potter had been paying attention, he couldn’t have missed the extreme rage in Severus’s voice.

            Potter only glanced at him and smiled as though he had decided to ignore that, and murmured, “He’s still asleep, I think. Draco is probably studying. Or brewing. He did say something about that.”

            Severus had meant Draco. He had to grip the back of the chair in front of him to prevent himself from exploding with rage, while Potter gave him a quiet, impish grin. A grin he probably thought was impish, at least. He abruptly flipped the sandwich into the air. When it came down, he studied it, nodded, and then grabbed it out of the pan and tossed it onto a plate.

            “Why have you left your relatives’ house?” Severus asked then.

            “Oh, it was by mutual agreement,” Potter assured him.

            Severus bit his tongue sharply to keep from screaming at the exasperating child. “I did not ask how.”

            “Oh, you asked why. It’s because I decided that I was tired of starving and being locked up like Dumbledore’s secret weapon while the war went on without me, and Draco invited me to stay with him.” Potter produced a bright smile from somewhere. “Are those more acceptable answers?”

            “Potter.” Severus sank down in the chair across from the boy and stared at the crumbs falling to the floor as he crunched into his sandwich. “Do you want to put Draco in more danger with your presence?”

            “Are you going to turn traitor and spy for Voldemort instead of Dumbledore?”

            Severus choked. He was sure that Potter hadn’t had the power of making him do things like this while he was still at Hogwarts—in fact, the few months between Easter and the end of the term had been the quietest in that regard that Severus had spent for six years—and wondered when he had acquired it.

            “What kind of question is that?”

            “A sane one.” Potter bit into the sandwich and spoke around a gooey mouthful of cheese. “I’m safe under the Fidelius as long as I’m here, unless you turn traitor and break it.” He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Are you going to?”

            “Of course not,” Severus snapped, feeling as though someone had cracked a whip at him. “What a ridiculous thing to ask.”

            “Someone had to ask it,” Potter said, unabashed, and went back to eating.

            Severus turned away with a shake of his head and a small snort of disbelief. At least footsteps were coming down the stairs. That meant someone saner would show up soon, and perhaps, combined with Severus’s words, a Malfoy’s innate good sense would agree that Potter should go back to Surrey.

            But Draco, when he stepped into the kitchen, looked at Potter with a pride and satisfaction that made Severus’s stomach sink. Worse, he then looked at Severus in a way that made it obvious he knew what he was thinking.

            And didn’t approve. Or at least didn’t agree.

            Draco walked behind Potter to the fireplace, to fetch his own breakfast, toasted bread that Potter must have made before Severus came in. On the way, he trailed his fingers over the nape of Potter’s neck, a casually possessive gesture that Potter only responded to with a smile and a tilt of his head.

            This is worse than I thought. Severus gripped his wand because it was hidden and no one would guess his state of mind from such a simple gesture, and said, “Mr. Malfoy, you would agree that having Mr. Potter here is unsafe?”

            “Not exactly,” said Draco, with a tilt of his head that made it clear how stubborn he was going to be. “After all, he was more unsafe with his relatives than with me. Or they were unsafe with him. Take your pick,” he added, and Summoned a napkin to spread beneath his toast.

            Severus turned back to Potter. Potter shook his head. “I already told you about being starved and locked away. What other reason do you need?”

            “You cannot be literal—”

            “I am,” said Potter baldly. “My family’s starved me for years, and they also locked me away in a cupboard until they started thinking someone was watching them. You should ask Dumbledore what address was on my Hogwarts letters. Or maybe Hagrid. Well, no, wait, the one he brought me had a different address on it, because my uncle was trying to keep me from going to Hogwarts and was dragging me around by then.” Potter took another bite of sandwich and gave Severus a frankly disgusting smile.

            Severus felt as though his Occlumency walls had taken a beating from the Dark Lord. He said slowly, “You were being literal.”

            “Yes.” Potter shrugged. “They didn’t try to lock me in the cupboard this summer, but I’ve had to stay in a room with locks on the door. And I’ve spent day after day there while Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione do—I’m not sure what. Apparently I would have been able to leave the day of my seventeenth birthday, but why? There’s no specific deadline other than the blood protections dissipating that day. And Dumbledore won’t tell me anything, so I don’t know if he would have completed the Horcrux hunt by then or what.” This time, he handed Severus a blank look. “I should be as safe here.”

            Severus took a step back. “You could be putting the Malfoys in danger.”

            “I was in danger without him,” said Draco. “The bond was pulling at us, and it was torture not being able to sense his emotions well enough. I don’t intend to give him up now.”

            Oh, no. Severus had once heard Draco say much the same thing about his rivalry with Potter, when Severus had tried to counsel him about not showing his disgust for Potter so openly and working against the brat in more subtle ways.

            Now—now the force of that rivalry was the force with which Draco beamed at Potter like an intoxicated lover.

            Lover. Wonderful.

            Severus swallowed back the bile and said, “I should speak with your father about this.”

            “Be my guest. But my father is trapped by his own promise to Harry to give me a happy life. And I need Harry to be happy.” Draco gulped a little more toast and stood up. “You want to come outside and fly, Harry?”

            “Yes,” said Potter at once, sliding off his chair. He gave Draco a smile of the same intensity as they left through the front door.

            Severus stood looking after them in silence. He had made a vow to protect Lily’s son. He had tried his best over the years to be a good Head of Slytherin House and ensure that his students, including Draco, did well and got what they needed, if not always what they wanted.

            And now it seemed that the way to fulfill both vow and promise was to leave Draco and Potter together.

            Yet, that cannot be, not when Potter would have to leave for the war anyway, Severus thought, with a frown. Lucius cannot have thought this through. Draco will be unhappier in the end than his brief joy at having Potter here can justify.

            “If you have an objection I haven’t made, one that might actually convince Draco to let go of Potter, then I’d like to hear it.”

            Severus started and turned. Lucius had come downstairs after all, although Severus hadn’t heard him. He watched as Lucius made his own tea and then sat down in the chair Draco had abandoned to brood over his steaming cup.

            “He should let go of him because Potter would put you and your son in danger. I can convince Potter of that if you get him alone.”

            Lucius sighed. “I did try that yesterday evening. I talked to him and explained how much effort Dumbledore will put into searching for him. I thought I’d succeeded. But then Draco came into the room, and Potter turned towards him, and—that soul-bond, it doesn’t allow them to reach other’s minds, does it, Severus?”

            “Not words, if that’s what you mean. Only emotions.”

            Lucius sipped his tea and watched the steam. “That is apparently enough. Draco accused me of distressing Mr. Potter and warping his mind. Then he fed some emotion through the bond to Mr. Potter, apparently. And Mr. Potter told me that he can’t leave, because it would upset Draco too much.”

            “I warned Albus this might happen,” Severus spat, while his stomach clenched.

            Lucius sat up. “What might happen?”

            “They’re growing emotionally dependent on one another. It can happen with the sort of unnatural closeness this bond brings.” Severus turned his head and looked out the window. He could only occasionally see Potter or Draco, given the way the brooms dipped as they flew. “I thought it might not happen because they had a rivalry before the bond, and Draco does not seem the sort of person to grow close to anyone. But with the loss of his mother—”

            He stopped, remembering who else had lost someone in this room. Lucius only looked at him once before he sighed and said, “Narcissa’s loss has influenced me as well. After all, I might have promised more to Draco than I meant to because I was still in shock over it.”

            Severus grimaced. “I will get Draco alone and speak to him. Potter is too willing both to sacrifice his own peace of mind and cling to his friends. Draco is the more independent one.”

            “Now?” Lucius slowly shook his head. “Draco has never had a best friend. And he seems to have expanded his definition of family to include Potter. At least, I have seen him looking at the boy as I only saw him look at his mother and me before this.”

            Severus swallowed the impulse to tell Lucius there were worse things than Draco considering Potter a brother, and said, “I’ll talk to Draco tonight.”

*

            Draco leaned back in the chair of the Potions lab, where Professor Snape had invited Draco to watch him brew a tricky potion, and waited patiently. He knew as well as Harry did, from his arched eyebrows when the invitation came, that Professor Snape had some ulterior motive for this.

            And it was probably related to Harry. Draco couldn’t remember Professor Snape ever spending a whole day with them since they’d gone under the Fidelius, but now he had.

            Harry’s emotions pulsed gold and soft in the back of Draco’s mind. Draco had left Harry on his bed reading one of his own favorite novels. Draco would hang onto that and use it as a weapon against whatever claims Professor Snape urged.

            It started slowly, Snape speaking with his gaze fixed on the cauldron. “You have magnificent implements here.”

            “Thank you. I do think the best taught me. Slughorn was nothing in comparison to your skills or discipline.”

            Professor Snape sneered slightly. “Yes, it would not be difficult to prefer someone else’s teaching.” He sighed once and continued, “You might find little time to keep up your brewing with Potter here. He does not care for the art.”

            “I knew that.” Draco shrugged. “But we have enough in common to find other things to do.”

            “About that, Draco.” Professor Snape got to the point sooner than Draco had thought he would, turning around and watching him with deep eyes. “You know you cannot keep up this ridiculous infatuation with him. Someone will find out.”

            “An infatuation,” Draco said, testing the word on his tongue for the first time. He hadn’t honestly considered it before, but now he could feel it draping over him, weighing him down like a robe of cloth of gold. He cocked his head and nodded. “Maybe it is one, at that.”

            Professor Snape made an urgent motion with one hand. “Of course it is. And you should know that you will not be allowed to continue it.”

            “Allowed?” Draco smiled, liking the way that expression made even Professor Snape pause. “Who’s to forbid me?”

            “Dumbledore. The Dark Lord. Potter himself.”

            “Harry’s mine,” Draco said. “He missed me as much as I did him. He won’t disrupt the soul-bond unless he did it to save my life.”

            “Which it would be.”

            Draco snorted. “It would take one of Harry’s miracles to find a way to revoke this soul-bond that Albus bloody Dumbledore himself said was irrevocable. You’re thinking in terms of him leaving me, not him disrupting the soul-bond.”

            Professor Snape paused. He was studying Draco, and Draco studied him right back. Snape had faint, harsh lines in his face now, lines that hadn’t been there the last time he visited. Draco thought he might well be finding his double life as a Potions professor and spy stressful.

            That was his burden, though. Just as stealing his father back and bearing the soul-bond had been Draco’s. The fact that he might empathize with Snape’s sense of duty didn’t mean he would go back to treating Harry like a burden now that he had learned the joys of him.

            “You have taken your vengeance for your mother’s death,” Snape said softly. “Exposed the Death Eater who watched your movements and taken back your father before the Dark Lord could torture him. What need do you have to disrupt the Headmaster’s war plans?”

            “How does having Harry here disrupt them?” Draco asked in interest. Maybe he was finally going to learn something about why they’d needed to keep Harry at the Dursleys’. “If Harry had to stay in one place until his birthday, what does it matter whether it’s here or in Little Whinging?”

            Snape paused again, although Draco didn’t know why. Then he said, “So Potter has told you where he lives.”

            Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, he had to do that so my father could find him and Apparate him here.”

            “I don’t know what has come over you, Draco. There was a time when you would have done anything rather than risk your father’s life.”

            “Do you still think of me the same way you did on the night of my mother’s death?”

            Professor Snape looked surprised at the abrupt question. “Yes,” he said a moment later. “If you mean do I think you weaker? No.”

            “Well, it’s a mistake. I’ve changed,” Draco elaborated, when Snape looked as if he might faint at the thought of Draco admitting to weakness. “That means I don’t think that Father leaving my sight automatically means him going back into danger. And it means I can value people other than my family right now.”

            “You would not value Potter so if not for the soul-bond.”

            “And you wouldn’t think so highly of me if I hadn’t been a Slytherin.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t see any point in ignoring the facts and pretending that hypothetical situations might have changed our minds. The fact is, those hypothetical situations didn’t happen. The ones we’re in did.”

            Professor Snape turned back to his cauldron, because one had to at this point in the potion. His back was stiff, and once Draco would have feared a detention, or at least a scolding about letting his hatred of Harry show itself so openly.

            This time, Draco didn’t have to fear either. He sat still and thought about the conversation, and by the time Snape turned around again, he was able to say, “You didn’t answer my question.”

            “Which one was that?”

            “Why it makes a difference if Potter is in Little Whinging or here. You don’t know, do you? You don’t know why Dumbledore was so insistent on keeping him in one place?”

            “Only that there were blood protections there that would keep him safer than anywhere else.” Professor Snape hesitated once. “I cannot blame you for the opinion you have of the Headmaster, when he didn’t try as hard as he should have to keep your father safe, but I can tell you this. There is no way he would have risked Potter. If he thought Potter should have stayed safe in that place, he would have been safe.”

            “I don’t know much about blood protections. Can you tell me some of the theory?”

            “You know enough to be going on with.”

            Draco widened his eyes in innocence. This was something that he wanted to share with Harry later. “But it’s been a long time since I revised it, and I don’t think I brought any of the books about it with me,” he said in an anxious little voice. “I didn’t think I’d need them here. Are you sure you can’t tell me about it?”

            Professor Snape gave him the sort of glare that said he wasn’t fooling anyone. Draco sat there and smiled. He didn’t need to fool Professor Snape on the what of what he wanted to ask about, only on the why.

            “I suppose it would do no harm,” Professor Snape began grudgingly, and Draco wanted to cheer, especially when he felt Harry’s emotions, still purring steadily and contentedly down the bond. Harry was safe and happy. Professor Snape probably thought telling Draco some of the truth would make Draco concede to sending Harry home.

            It never would, but Snape didn’t need to know that.

            “Blood in a family is a powerful connection,” Snape said, “but mostly because the pure-bloods themselves make it that way.” He sneered a little. “If you didn’t already believe in the importance of the connection, it wouldn’t have magical power.”

            Because he knew about other things, like the way catching a Snitch could be lucky, that only happened because people already believed in them, Draco had no trouble accepting that. “But what about blood connections after one of the family is already deceased? Can one of them still have that power?”

            “Of course. Otherwise your family portraits wouldn’t care about their descendants.”

            The family portraits did little enough when the Dark Lord took over our house. But Draco knew why that was. Father had chosen to submit himself to the Dark Lord. Against a free choice, portraits could do nothing. Only if Father’s Imperius Curse defense from the first war had been true could Malfoy family magic drive the Dark Lord away.

            Father was a fool. But I will not be.

            “The magic of sacrifice, which protected Potter, is different.” Snape sighed, and looked a hundred years older suddenly. “His mother willingly gave her life to save his. The Headmaster thinks that is largely the reason that the Killing Curse bounced. Potter was shielded by Lily Potter’s love for him.”

            Draco sat up. “Then you have part of the problem right there.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Because his mum loved him, and his dad, but his Muggle relatives didn’t. Would there have been any power to the blood protections then? Could his mum’s love attach to a house where his aunt hated him?”

            Professor Snape stared at Draco in silence. Then he said, “Because you have grown up in a family with extraordinarily close and protective parents—”

            “Oh, spare me.” Draco knew exactly what the professor would say: that Draco couldn’t understand Harry’s Muggle relatives because he’d always had a loving family, and families loved in different ways, and so on. “I know what I felt from Harry. They hate him.”

            “He may have the impression that they did. He may hate them.” Professor Snape’s tone said he wouldn’t put any atrocity past Harry. “But the blood protections would not have taken if it was true on their part.”

            “And how strong was the blood protection? Were you ever at Harry’s house and able to check?”

            Professor Snape paused. Then he said, “Dumbledore would not have placed him in a house without any protection.”

            Draco shrugged. “I wasn’t there myself. Father was, and he said that they were extraordinarily weak, like strips of mist.” He stood up. “I thought it would be interesting to get your perspective if you had seen them. Anyway, I think I’ve proved that they probably weren’t very strong and Harry’s as safe here as he would be with his family.”

            Professor Snape said in a strangled voice, “What am I supposed to tell the Headmaster?”

            “Whatever you want.” Draco smiled over his shoulder. “I’m sure a master spy should be able to come up with something convincing.”

*

            “And you don’t think Snape would try to make go back to the Dursleys’?”

            “You’re mistaken if you think that Snape has any kind of power over you outside of school.”

            Harry swayed a little back and forth on his broom as he thought about that. He and Draco were flying together, and Draco was right beside him instead of circling above or below trying to beat Harry like he’d done this morning. He seemed to have decided a conversation was better when he was right beside Harry, staring at him.

            Well, it’s easier, anyway, Harry conceded, and said aloud, “It’s strange to think about that. I mean, he’s a member of the Order of the Phoenix, too, and I’m just used to having to do what they say.”

            Draco gave him a sudden fierce look, and the bond throbbed with a cresting wave. But before Harry could figure out exactly what Draco felt—which was harder when the emotions were combined than when they were single—Draco dived in front of him. Harry dived after him, a little bewildered.

            Draco landed with a roll and a bounce on the ground, and came up, standing, to frown at Harry. “You don’t have to do what they say.”

            “They are more experienced wizards than I am. And they’ve fought the war with Voldemort longer—”

            “Not all of them, not if that Auror Tonks you told me about is a member,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. The wave had crested, and yes, there were the cold stinging waters of exasperation breaking around them. “And you break rules all the time, Harry. I’m only surprised that you stayed at the Dursleys’ as long as you did.”

            Harry hesitated. “Dumbledore told me it was important.”

            “And you always do what Dumbledore tells you to do.”

            “If it keeps other people safe, then yes.”

            Draco turned around and glared at him. “So it’s the same thing we talked about yesterday? That you’re fine with doing whatever you have to do to protect other people, but God forbid that you do anything to protect yourself?”

            “Now you sound angry because I was trying to keep myself safe.”

            Draco and the bond together made a noise like a squalling cat, and he kicked the ground. “Safe isn’t separate from me.”

            Harry took a hesitant step towards him. “But I am going to have to separate from you in eight days. You know that.”

            Draco kept scowling at the grass. Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “I promise to come back and see you when I can.”

            Draco looked up. “That’s not enough.”

            Harry rolled his eyes a little. “Because the Great and Powerful Draco Malfoy says it shouldn’t be?”

            “I mean there’s no reason you can’t use the safehouse here as a base of operations.” Draco sounded calm and persuasive. “Conduct the hunt from here instead of Hogwarts. Don’t run around all over Britain without a holiday the way I think Dumbledore would want you to. Come back here to rest after part of the hunt.”

            “I would love to do that,” Harry said longingly, and he knew the bond was blazing and rattling with his yearning. “But I just don’t see how I can. Dumbledore is probably going to be keeping a pretty close watch over me to make sure that I can’t, among other things.”

            “Why? Why would he want to prevent something that would strengthen you?”

            When Draco put it in that light, Harry couldn’t come up with an answer, especially when he still wanted to defend Dumbledore’s motives. He hesitated once, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

            “Right.” Draco touched his hand. “I’m just asking you to give him an answer that includes me in your life. It’s up to you when you do that.”

            “Good,” said Harry, suddenly determined. “Because right now, I don’t want to think about it. I want to go inside and teach you how to bake a chocolate cake.”

            “A chocolate cake?” The bond went still to match the blankness on Draco’s face. “Why?”

            “Because it’s complicated, and you’ll probably be horrible at it the first time. And I want you to have sweet things again after I leave. And because I need you to stop being right all the time.”

            Draco’s face gentled, but he nodded and followed Harry into the house. Harry found it easy, for the moment, to ignore the soft murmur that Draco gave as he did.

            “I want to always be right concerning you, because so many other people are wrong.”

            Harry knew that meant Draco would want to fight for him against some of the things that Dumbledore might want him to do. And at the same time that Harry worried about the consequences of that for the war…

            He felt warmed and soothed by the notion of someone fighting for him. Just for him.

*

            SP777: Draco and Harry are taking their time and not really trying to define it. Snape and Lucius do know, and don’t approve, as you see here.
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The Serenity of His Rage