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The Rising of the Stones	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13237 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Fourteen—Catching Up to Them

            Draco started and found himself standing next to his bed and clutching his wand, staring at the wall of his bedroom. On the other side of that wall was his front door, and someone was pounding on it hard enough to make all his instincts shriek in alarm.

            “We know you’re there, Malfoy. And you’re going to tell us what’s going on with Harry!”

            Weasley’s voice. Draco grimaced and shook his head as he rapidly dressed. Someone must have betrayed part of the truth to Potter’s friends. Perhaps Doge himself. He loved sending anonymous letters and “hints” to people he was supposed to be keeping secrets from. He couldn’t betray most of the secrets Draco and Potter had given him until he was ready to write his article, but he could spit out Draco’s name in connection with them.

            And he’ll always do it where he thinks it’ll cause the most chaos, Draco thought grimly as he opened his door to Weasley.

            Or Weasley and Granger, it turned out. When Weasley tried to barrel in, Granger put a hand on his arm that restrained him. She nodded to Draco with a set, respectful expression on her face. She was going to bite her tongue if it killed her, Draco thought.

            “We got a letter saying you knew something about Harry and where he’d gone, Malfoy. That’s why we’re here.”

            “You always trust anonymous letters, then?” Draco leaned on his doorframe, considering the merits of telling them. On the one hand, they would be ridiculously annoying until they found out some part of the truth.

            On the other hand, they probably wouldn’t approve of the “Slytherin” tactics Draco wanted Potter to adopt. And they might get in the way of the things that would actually spare Potter the worst of his pain.

            “How did you know it was anonymous, Malfoy?”

            “It had to be, or you would have sought out the letter-writer instead.” Draco had no intention of telling them about Doge until and unless he had no choice. He studied them again, then shrugged. “Come in.”

            “Thank you, Malfoy,” said Granger, proving she’d grown in grace and dignity since Hogwarts, and led Weasley in. A timely frown at him prevented him from saying something Draco would probably have wanted to shred him for, and she turned to nod to Draco. “Do you know where Harry is?”

            “No. But I know he’s safe and sane.”

            “How can you know that if you don’t know where he is?”

            “Hush, Ron.” Granger turned back to Draco with enough calculation in her eyes that he was glad he’d approached her on such a cautious footing. “I think you can understand why that reassurance might not be enough for us.”

            “I’m only obeying his wishes.” Draco spread his arms and assumed his most innocent expression. That might not work on Granger, either, from the way she arched her eyebrow at him. “He didn’t want you involved. He was worried about what you would do when you learned the truth.”

            “How could he be?”

            “Something about powerful enemies, and Gryffindors dashing in to get killed.” Draco leaned back and smiled a little at her as he shook his head. “I couldn’t understand all of it. Then again, I don’t have Gryffindor friends who might dash in and get killed.”

            Weasley opened his mouth to say something, and Granger’s hand landed heavily on his arm. Draco was just as glad. Weasley had probably been about to say that he was surprised Draco had any friends at all, and although the suspicion of the words was bad, the memory would have been worse and might have destroyed his desire to work with Potter’s friends at all.

            “That can’t be the only reason,” Granger said, and looked around as if deciding where to sit. Draco didn’t plan to invite her, but wasn’t surprised when she found a chair anyway, and perched on it expectantly. “If you’ve spoken to him, tell us what he said.”

            A lot of things I have no intention of sharing with you. If Potter wanted his friends to know he was markless, he would have to tell them himself. Draco wasn’t interested in dealing with the disbelief and anger his words would provoke.

            “I can’t remember the words of the conversation precisely. I’m not a Pensieve—”

            “Do you have one we can use?”

            Draco stared at Granger emotionlessly until she seemed to remember how matters stood between them, and flushed a little, looking at her hands. “Right,” she whispered. “That might be too much to hope for.”

            “I think it should be up to Potter how much he engages you. The only thing I know right now is that he didn’t do it immediately, so I won’t tell you anything else, either.” Draco shrugged. “He’s the one who has to make that decision.”

            “Since when do you respect Harry’s wishes that much, Malfoy?”

            “Ron,” Granger hissed, but Draco thought the question worth answering, if only because it would give him another way to taunt Weasley.

            “I must admit, it’s a little strange to find myself doing so,” said Draco blandly, and smiled at the surprise on Weasley’s face. “But I was assigned the case by the Ministry, and that seemed a good enough reason not to abandon it at first.” He leaned nearer and lowered his voice, and they unconsciously imitated him. “And then I learned something so strange, so wondrous, about Potter, that…”

            It took them a second to realize he had no intention of continuing. Then Weasley snapped, “Well?”

            “And, I don’t think I should tell you,” said Draco, ducking his head and doing his best innocent impression. “That’s where the information that he wanted to keep to himself comes in. It’s his decision to share.”

            “Malfoy,” said Granger, in what was probably the exact tone she’d used to scold someone she caught breaking curfew when she was a prefect. Weasley had been reduced to incoherent spluttering. “You can’t—you can’t build us up like that and then drop us.”

            “What laws of nature or magic say I can’t?”

            “Harry wouldn’t want you to treat us like this. If you were going to invite us in at all, you should have included other things in the invitation.”

            “I don’t know whether or not he would want me to,” said Draco honestly. Potter might be happy Draco had spared him the task of confession to his best friends, or he might be angry about it. Draco really didn’t know. “What I can say is that both of you don’t have his confidence or permission yet. I wouldn’t get cocky until you do.”

            “There’s no need for that, Malfoy.”

            Draco started badly. Potter had flowed out of the stones of his fireplace and was advancing across the floor towards them, eyes resting on his best friends as if he’d been hungry for the sight of their faces.

            So now they’re his best support? When they might make his position harder or more complicated because they insist on being told secrets that don’t belong to them?

            Only a second later did Draco think of what should have been his first concern, that Potter could slip so easily into his house through the protective spells that squirmed and danced in a net around Draco’s walls. Draco chewed his lip and said nothing. There was little he could say, now that Potter had turned to face his friends.

            “Harry,” Weasley said. He nodded to him, all calm and placid suddenly, as if the mere glimpse of Potter walking around and breathing was sufficient to reassure Weasley that there was really nothing wrong with him. “How are you? Did you come back because you couldn’t stand being shouted at by Malfoy?”

            “How are you, Harry?” Granger was calmer, kinder, but her eyes never left Potter’s face. “Is there something we can help you with?”

            Potter studied them for a second, and then said, “I’m not sure.” He stepped back so he was leaning against the wall, about halfway between Draco and his friends, where he could see both of them. “Can you work well with Malfoy?”

            “What does he have to do with this, mate?”

            “He was the Auror assigned to chase me. And he’s helping me go up against the Ministry because he doesn’t care for the Minister, either.”

            “This is some kind of problem with de Berenzan?” Weasley sounded more outraged by the second. Draco wished he knew of some way he could bottle that outrage and turn it against his own enemies. “Is he the one who planted those Dark Arts books so he could accuse you of crimes you didn’t commit?”

            “Maybe the question I should have asked is whether you can work with me,” Potter muttered. “No, I collected those Dark Arts books on my own, Ron.”

            His friends stared at him in appalled silence. Draco blinked. He had thought Granger would immediately begin asking questions and demanding answers, but she sat there as frozen as Weasley.

            “But—you can’t have, mate,” Weasley finally said. “You’re not that kind of person.”

            “I’m a person,” said Potter tightly, and Draco saw the way his body and mood had shifted, “who’s sick and tired of not having what everyone else has.” He slapped his own forehead hard, but Draco was the one who winced for him. “This lightning bolt isn’t my soul-mark. It isn’t covering my soul-mark. I don’t have one.”

            “That’s not possible, though,” Granger said. “I started looking that up when you first disappeared, Harry, because I knew you were talking a lot about soulmates and you broke up with Ginny because she wasn’t yours. But no one is born without a soul-mark.”

            “Most people who are don’t live long, true. But that’s because the Ministry kills them, not because they simply die of having no soul.”

            In the moments before Weasley and Granger both erupted into shouting, Draco thought in resignation, Well, that’s torn it.

*

            “Fine, maybe Dementors don’t affect you anymore, but that could be because you got rid of the piece of Voldemort’s soul, mate! It doesn’t mean that you don’t have one!”

            Draco sipped his tea and did his best to concentrate on the report in front of him that his superiors wanted him to investigate for signs of corruption. The writer was a very junior Auror with strong family connections to some wizards punished in the past for smuggling and vengeance cursing. The Head Auror didn’t entirely believe that this particular Auror was writing the truth.

            The problem was, the conversation going on beside him was a lot more fascinating than a report replete with self-defensive remarks and spelling errors.

            “I’ve given you the evidence I have. And I’ve told you the truth, Ron.” Potter sounded tired. “Short of casting that spell George taught me that turns my clothing transparent and spinning around in front of you, I don’t know how to convince you that I don’t have a soul-mark.”

            “No need for that!”

            “Right. But now will you believe me?”



            Draco sneaked a look at Potter. He was still standing in front of his friends with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. Draco snapped his eyes back to the report in front of him when it occurred to him that he was a little disappointed Potter wouldn’t be casting that spell that turned his clothes transparent.

            Keep your foolish reactions to yourself. It was good advice when his father had given it to him in childhood, and it remained good advice now.

            “It just seems…incredible,” Granger said. Her hand rested on the book that Potter had found addressed to Minister Bagnold, and her face looked younger than it really was as she stared up at him. Draco concealed a sneer. He supposed it was more distressing to Granger than the average person that the Ministry had turned out not to be trustworthy.

            Honestly, the only thing Draco had had trouble believing was that Potter didn’t have a soul-mark and didn’t have a soul, and some of the consequences that implied. Not that the Ministry would do stupid things in response to a truth so incredible.

            “I know it does.” There was Potter being all soft and conciliating and giving his friends second chances again, and Draco really had to keep from rolling his eyes with a vicious effort. “But it’s true. There are records in the Ministry archives about the children born without soul-marks who all died of heart attacks before they were one year old.”

            “Well, maybe not having a soul-mark weakens your heart,” Weasley offered.

            Potter snapped his head to the side, making Weasley flush with the light of his eyes. “Then why am I here?”

            “You’ve always been extraordinary, though, mate. You could have a lot of other traits and things like that that someone else wouldn’t have. Because you had a—a bit of soul in you and the Elder Wand and all.” Weasley glanced anxiously at Draco, who continued to ignore the conversation as if he found it uninteresting.

            In truth, though, Weasley and Granger’s reactions were excellent examples of the way that a lot of ordinary people in the wizarding world would probably react when they heard the news. It was just another example of Harry Potter’s extreme specialness, or it meant nothing because he had survived. Draco hoped that Potter was taking note and crafting arguments in response to it.

            From the way Potter leaned into Weasley’s face, though, this individual contest was still too important to him to take advantage of the instruction that Weasley provided. “Listen to me, Ron,” he whispered. “Would I lie?”

            “I don’t think you’re lying!” Weasley thrust his face back into Potter’s, close to his, close enough to bother Draco for some reason. He ripped his gaze away and concentrated on the report once more. “I just think you’re mistaken. We don’t know enough about this. What if you’re wrong?”

            Potter shook his head. “If I could show you the birth records that I found…”

            “Can’t you?” Granger interrupted, looking her most winsome and irritating. “I mean, I know the Minister said that no one can access your birth records, but wouldn’t they still have to allow people in to look at birth records in general?”

            “I wouldn’t want to expose you to danger,” said Potter, his anxious martyred self again, and turned to face her. “I got away with looking at them because no one knew what I was looking for, then. But if you go in and start sniffing around, the Minister is going to know something’s up just because you’re my friend.”

            “We need someone who can look without arousing those suspicions, then,” said Granger at once, and then frowned. “But the only people who come to mind are your enemies, and honestly, that’s not much better.”

            They were all ignoring such an obvious solution that Draco waited a moment for them to suggest it, but no one did. He cleared his throat. “Lovegood.”

            Potter turned to him with a hopeful look in his eyes that Draco decided he was going to ignore. He could only put up with so many instances of Potter’s naïveté. He was more interested in the way Granger focused on him.

            “Yes, I think Luna could do it,” Granger said after a moment’s consideration. “She goes into the Ministry archives to research her articles all the time. And no one pays much attention to her anymore. As long as she waits a few days and doesn’t just look at the birth records, then no one should suspect her.”

            “That could work,” Potter acknowledged. There was a funny little smile in his eyes as he looked at Draco. “Did you say that because I suggested her before?”

            “Before what?” Weasley again.

            But Draco felt entitled to ignore him as he studied Potter, and at last said, as coolly as he could, when Potter’s smile was beginning to fade, “Of course not. I suggested her because she’s the best person for the job.”

            “Of course,” Potter said, and turned away, leaving Draco obscurely disappointed. He spoke quietly with Weasley and Granger for a little while, and Draco did finally turn back to his report and not listen in. It was just reassurances that Potter still thought of them as his friends, and yes, he would show them the magic he could do later, and no, he wasn’t planning to take up the Elder Wand or tell the rest of the Weasleys any time soon.

            Thank Merlin. I’m not ready to have my house invaded by a ginger horde.

            But after Weasley and Granger had left, Draco did clear his throat before he let Potter simply melt through the stones of the fireplace. “There’s some merit to what you said,” he murmured when Potter faced him. “About having Lovegood write about this. Just not at the same time as Doge, or before him. I think she would make a far better researcher in the Ministry archives.”

            Potter paused for a short time, eyes resting on Draco as if he doubted him. That made Draco want to snarl. Why should Potter doubt him?

            “I think you’re right,” Potter said, finally, peacefully, and went away, becoming a small spiral of color that flowed into the stones and was gone.

            Draco sat down and stared at the wall. He knew he should feel triumphant, and he finally dismissed the niggling question of why he didn’t, and went back to reading the report.

            It continued to be less interesting than Potter, though.

*

            SP777: Well, she was never his fiancé, but yes.
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The Rising of the Stones