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Burning Day	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10061 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Fifteen—Weaving
            “What do you think, my Lord?”
            Gabrielle was standing with her hands clasped in front of her, eyes fastened on the ground. She wore a demure little white dress that Harry had never seen her in before, although at one time he would have been willing to say that all Veela probably wore clothes like that. She sneaked a glance at him and then lowered her gaze back to the ground.
            “It’s incredible, and you know it is,” Harry told her. “So stop standing there with that false modesty and tell me how you did it.”
            Gabrielle smiled and moved forwards to reach up and caress the slender, springing branch of what looked like a small sapling. Its silvery wood glowed with soft white light under her touch. “This is part of my soul,” she said. “You know that.”
            Harry nodded. He knew that Veela kept parts of their souls outside their bodies, hence why they had mates and these trees, which they’d had to bring with them when they came to his Court. Now there was a long stand of trees spreading along the flank of the castle into the Forbidden Forest, whispering and moving in the sunlight.
            But that wasn’t the most incredible thing they were doing.
            The branches of the trees reached through the stone of Hogwarts, and had woven around them so that they cradled the actual blocks and cobblestones and flagstones and walls in several places now. That was how the Veela had chosen to solve the problem of needing space for their trees but not wanting to intrude into the Forbidden Forest where the centaurs and other allies lived, or grow the trees only inside, away from the sunlight. The trees were growing out of the stone, and around it, absorbing the walls of Hogwarts into their trunks and branches.
            Harry knew that his Court would be well-protected with them there. And now that the trees were used to stone, Gabrielle had explained, they would naturally carry it with them and make more as they grew. Hogwarts’s halls and rooms would gradually expand—something that Harry could use, if the number of people came into his Court that he was expecting.
            “And now my soul is rooted here,” said Gabrielle, stealing Harry’s attention back. She still had her hand on the silvery tree, staring at it the way that Harry thought he used to look at Persephone—although Gabrielle had been the one to tell him that the connection between Harry and his phoenix was unlike the connection that the Veela shared with their trees, and ultimately unstable. “This couldn’t happen unless I, and the other Veela whose tree-souls are growing here, had accepted the Court as their home.”
            “Then it’s less likely to encourage rebellions and plotting against me, the way that Madame de Lis tried at first.”
            Gabrielle gave him a long, cool look. “There’s a reason that she gave dealing with you over to me, you know.”
            “Yes. She tried to trick me.” Harry admired the wall of trees again. “What would happen if someone did attack them?”
            “The trees know certain kinds of magic that wouldn’t come naturally to a tree otherwise, because they really are embodied souls, and not ordinary plants.” Gabrielle stroked her soul’s trunk again. Harry didn’t think it was his imagination that one of the white ripples of light on its bark ran down to meet her hands. “You’ll see, and your enemies will too, how well they defend themselves.”
            “Good.” Harry stepped back and studied the trees once more. He wanted to take the memory of their beauty with him, to remind himself of what he was fighting for when the politics he dealt in became tiresome.
            And to remind himself that there were ways to get things done other than just by charging in and using the most powerful magic he could. He might, for example, be able to weave illusions into his politics the way that Draco had advised him to.
            He would see how well the lesson had entered his mind in just a short while. He and Draco were about to have their first public meeting in full view of other people since they had started this pretense about Draco being the Minister Harry loved to hurt.
*
            “You look cold, sir.”
            Draco turned around and smiled at Lucy Lenneal. Of all the people gathered around him at the edge of Hogsmeade—the far edge of Hogsmeade, not the one nearest the gates of Hogwarts—she was the only one who knew the truth about him and Harry, the only one who would understand the way he was trembling. “Fear sometimes makes its way into the bravest of hearts, Ms. Lenneal.”
            Lucy frowned, but said nothing else. In fact, a second later her gaze rose past him towards the castle, and Draco turned around with a feeling of accomplishment. He knew that he was the only reason that Harry had agreed to this meeting.
            But probably not the only reason that Harry came gliding down to Hogsmeade on a cushion of wind, carried by yellow-colored currents he must have tinted with his magic so people could see them. That would be partly Harry’s sense of drama. He stepped out of the cushion after a few seconds and started hovering above the delegation’s heads, peering down.
            A few of the people around them gaped, but others were bristling. Draco could read their minds as if he had used Legilimency on all of them. They were thinking that Harry’s superiority was all arrogance, and how dare he show up like this and oblige them to pay attention to him? He should be humble.
            Draco bit his lip to avoid smiling. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise of what Harry was about to do.
            Harry hesitated, examining the people in front of him, as if he was surprised to see so many there, although he and Draco had “negotiated” beforehand exactly how many Ministry workers should come with Draco. Then he held up his hand and made a negligent gesture with his arm towards the skies.
            Draco jumped along with everyone else when a bird’s screech cut through the air. He honestly hadn’t expected that level of realism in the illusion.
            The phoenix that soared down to Harry’s arm was an exact copy of Persephone, except that the flames around her flickered more blue than violet. She landed on Harry and eyed them all in silent hostility for a second, then tilted her head back and screeched at the sky again.
            And a silver phoenix came diving down to Harry’s other shoulder, balancing so lightly that Draco caught his breath in sheer appreciation. He had known vaguely what Harry was going to do, but he hadn’t seen these illusions before. Harry must have practiced them in front of a mirror in order to get the exact right impression that the phoenix was landing on his shoulder, and leaning in such a way that suggested it might take to the sky again at any moment.
            “So,” said Harry in a bored voice, looking at every face in sight, but Draco’s last. Draco was sure he was the only one who knew what the slightly raised eyebrow in his own direction meant. “You can see that your own creatures of the Light favor me. Can we stop this tiresome business where you declare that you have to destroy me as a Dark Lord now because clearly I only engage in Dark magic?”
            “If you created that phoenix from your own magic, then it’s still a Dark creature,” Amos Diggory said, pressing forwards. Draco restrained the impulse to groan. He knew that Amos did want peace with Harry, and was probably only doing this to get the challenge someone might make later out in the open. But Harry was staring at Amos with sheer boredom. Not a good sign. “I’ve never heard of a silver phoenix.”
            “Believe what you like,” said Harry, with a shrug. The silver phoenix lifted into the air and flew in a circle around Amos. Draco was close enough that he could feel the hot air wafting off its feathers. “But you know I could barely create one black phoenix before, and then only when I was striving desperately to save my own life. Could I create two?”
            The silver phoenix screamed into Amos’s face. Then it began to croon, and Draco felt tears threaten from the sheer beauty of its song as it flew back and perched on Harry’s shoulder, spreading wings that shone like a butterfly’s from the light through them.
            He knew that Harry had heard phoenix song, and was drawing on his own memory of it to create it now. But it was still thrilling, unearthly, and bloody convincing.
            “I—I apologize, Dark Lord,” said Amos, although he glanced at Draco from the corner of his eye as though he wanted to know why Draco hadn’t told them about the Dark Lord’s silver phoenix. Draco was glad of that, actually. It would help to convince them that he was more a helpless pawn of Harry’s than a minion to be trusted. “I didn’t realize that silver phoenixes existed.”
            “Now you do.” Harry glanced back and forth calmly across the crowd’s heads. “Why have you come to me?”
            Amos was still staring at the illusory birds and seemed at a loss. Draco sighed delicately and stepped forwards. He didn’t mind. He had suspected he would have to play this part anyway, as the one person there who only needed to feign fear of Harry.
            And it would be a good debt to remind Amos that he owed Draco later.
            “We’ve come to try and make peace,” he said, and bowed until his hair almost swept the grass. When he looked back up, Harry had a perfect sneer on his face. Draco and Harry were the only ones there who would know that it was a sneer at the sight of Draco bowing, which Harry didn’t think he should do under any circumstances.
            And Draco was the only one there who knew that he didn’t mind, that he liked bowing to Harry because he had sworn to Harry as his Lord. But that was another thing that his brain could keep to itself. He held the bow a moment longer, then straightened. “Are you ready to make peace, Harry Potter, Dark Lord of Hogwarts?” Make this sound as pompous as he could, and there was a chance that they wouldn’t need to repeat it any time soon.
            Harry gave him a single, blazing-eyed glance, and then turned and stared at the Ministry workers. As one, they gave an uneasy shuffle backwards.
            Harry half-snorted, and turned back to Draco. “I am. As long as you can give me a promise of true peace.”
            “What does that mean, true peace?” Draco knew, of course. He and Harry had staged this conversation in several different variations, each of them depending on how frightened the Ministry workers who had come with Draco were. But that didn’t mean that they could skip over the spaces between, the important words, as if they really did know each other’s intentions.
            Harry had scary teeth, when he chose to use them. “True peace means that you don’t attack me every time I do something that frightens you or pisses you off.”
            “I’ve been warned that, as Minister, not even I can fully control the Department of Mysteries,” Draco said. He knew the Unspeakables would have spies among the people with him today, although no fully-acknowledged Unspeakables had come. In fact, he and Harry were rather counting on the spies.
            Harry held out one hand, where a thin tongue of black flame danced. “Oh, that’s quite all right,” he said. “Since even the Marking I did on some of them hasn’t rendered them susceptible to reason, I’m about to give them something that will, something that came hunting for me and asked me what service it could do me.”
            Even knowing it was only an illusion, Draco had to stare in frank admiration as he watched the black flame grow wings and a slender body, writhing around on Harry’s palm and breathing fire at all and sundry. Harry had said that he could make another black phoenix out of illusion, but since he would already have one on his shoulder at this meeting, Draco had suggested that it be a different kind of creature instead.
            And it was. In the middle of Harry’s palm crouched a small black dragon, incredibly solid-looking, its wings spread as it hissed and deposited pools of flame in the middle of Harry’s sleeve. The fires stayed there, burning, but of course didn’t consume Harry’s skin or cloth.
            Of course not, they’re illusion, Draco thought a second later. God, even he was in danger of falling under the influence of Harry’s sense of the theatrical.
            But it took an incredible sense of control over one’s magic to keep the fires burning like that, and to keep adding to them as the skeletal dragon reared and grew in size, black scales running over a tail and feet that had been air only moments before. If their enemies knew the truth and had any sense, the amount of skill Harry had with potentially wild power would worry them more than what he had done so far.
            They neither knew the truth nor had any sense, however, so they gaped as Harry’s dragon winged over to them and hovered, hissing. Amos even ducked when a few sparks fell towards his hair.
            “This dragon is the representative a small clan of sentient dragons chose to send me, and it will keep watch on the Unspeakables,” Harry said softly. “It will fly through their Department of Mysteries and check on their progress in achieving peace. They don’t need to suffer damage from its fire as long as they don’t touch it. But if it sees something that looks like planning for an attack on me, it will fly back to me and report immediately.” Harry gave the assembled Ministry workers a small, nasty smile. “And it will do the same thing if it’s damaged, of course. In fact, it can turn itself insubstantial if anyone tries, so that blows will go through it. Keep in mind the way it appeared just now, as if from thin air. Then it will fly back to me.”
            Draco caught his breath. Oh that was perfect, perfect. Some exceptionally powerful illusions really could spy for their masters, and Harry had just made all the excuses he would ever need for the spying as well as for the inability of the Unspeakables to hit the illusion, should they try.
            “Is that—is that necessary?” Amos finally asked, having managed to clear his throat. “The Unspeakables—”
            “Have done nothing but attack me for weeks in some misguided attempt at vengeance,” Harry said flatly, and paused so the phoenixes could shriek and the dragon could hiss. “I don’t trust them. This will encourage them to be more prompt with cleaning up their own house.”
            “At least they will retain control over their own house,” said Draco quickly, when he saw some expressions hardening out of the corner of his eye. “So you won’t take it away from them or make it impossible for them to retain control of the Department of Mysteries, will you?”
            “No,” said Harry. “As long as they follow my precise instructions.”
            “That’s just control by another name!” called out one of the people Draco had brought with him. She supposedly worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but Draco thought this was probably enough to peg her as an Unspeakable spy. “You’re just controlling them from a distance!”
            Harry turned slowly to her. The illusion-dragon took flight and glided towards her. It flew over Draco’s head on its way, and Draco shook his head in amazement. He could smell the stink of fire and sulfur coming from it. Harry had done an incredible job with the illusion.
            When the dragon hovered above the woman’s head, Harry asked mildly, “You were saying?”
            “You’re still intimidating us,” the woman whispered with more conviction than Draco would have thought possible. But she had betrayed herself. Even as she paled, she tried to correct what she’d said. “Them. You’re intimidating the Unspeakables into doing things they don’t want to, so that you can—”
            “Keep the peace,” Harry drawled in a bored way, while his phoenixes took off and circled his head, and the dragon dropped a little closer to the woman he was speaking to. “The Unspeakables failed to do so. If there are any of them who don’t want war with me, who find the mysteries they supposedly guard more fascinating, then I suggest they speak up and restrain the ones who want to attack me. If all of them want war with me, then I’m taking precautions against a determined enemy. I don’t consider that stupid.”
            The woman swallowed again, her eyes tracing the flight of both phoenixes and dragon. Then she looked down. “It’s still intimidation,” she whispered.
            “And so is what some of the Unspeakables did to me,” Harry said. “Including trying to murder the man I said amuses me.” He cast Draco a sardonic look. “I do defend my toys, you know.”
            Draco bit the inside of his cheek, not sure if he wanted to sneer or chuckle more. It was best to stand still and let Harry handle this, perhaps.
            “Understand this,” Harry said, cutting off the woman when she opened her mouth to make some other kind of protest. “I’m the one who’s in charge here. Not you. Here on the grounds of Hogwarts, I’m in control. I won’t listen to any dissenting voices unless I know that they’re actually part of my Court and trying to change things for the better, not just to give themselves more power.” He nodded to the dragon, which turned and soared in the direction of the Ministry. “I wouldn’t have had to send a spy to the Department of Mysteries if they’d controlled themselves. They chose to attack me, for whatever mysterious motives they don’t want to tell me. Now they have a narrower range of choices.”
            The woman said nothing. Draco didn’t know if she was permanently cowed, but at least she was wise enough not to interrupt this meeting with any more nattering.
            “Are there any other questions?” Harry asked in a soft, pleasant voice, sweeping his eyes around the assembled crowd, and nodded expectantly at the end of it. “Very well. This is the way it will be. I’ll stay inside the bounds of Hogwarts and not venture outside them—unless you mistreat the magical creatures sworn to me, or attack me, or do something else stupid. No, I won’t define all the limits of that. I’m sure that you can figure them out on your own, intelligent wizards that you are.”
            He aimed the arm that the black phoenix sat on at Draco, and Draco froze in place as the phoenix fixed him with one gleaming dark blue eye. “Stay, Minister-elect Malfoy. There are things we need to discuss.”
            Amos and the rest appeared all too eager to leave, though some of them gave him pitying glances. Draco stared back at them impartially. He knew his role, and he would play it.
            Harry landed, and created an illusion that would shield them from sight and sound; Draco knew that without having to ask, or he would never have done what he did next, which was whoop out loud and seize Draco in a tight hug. “You were right,” he whispered into Draco’s ear. “I can accomplish a lot more with illusions than with lethal magic or just sitting tight and hoping they leave me in peace.”
            “They won’t leave you in peace, more fools they,” Draco whispered, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s. “But you did what you needed to safeguard Hogwarts.”
            “And you,” added Harry, and the silver phoenix illusion moved comfortably from his shoulder to Draco’s. “You’re going to have a protector who can alert me immediately if you’re in trouble. No more Unspeakable sneak attacks.”
            Draco touched a hand to the phoenix’s barely tangible talon, and smiled.
*
Jester: I think this is part of the effect they planned on, and a big part!
And yes, I think you’re right: some of Draco’s habits as a child make him a good politician.
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Burning Day