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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
More questions at the end of the chapter! And more thanks
for the reviews up here.

Chapter 17- The Uncertain Limits of Friendship

�� Friends
normally do things other than stay in the Manor and play Quidditch together,
Harry,� Draco said at breakfast the next morning.

�� Harry
stared at him over his porridge and didn�t answer. He didn�t know how to
answer. He�d been feeling a startling mixture of resentment and desperation
ever since Theresa released him from the therapy session yesterday.

�� This was-

�� This wasn�t
how he�d envisioned the next few days at the Manor. And every time he thought
he had a way to shake himself free of obligation to Draco, the sneaky git
turned around and cornered him again. Theresa had decided to help him, and now
even reality seemed determined to abet Draco.

�� Reality,
through the Soul�s Mirror, said that Harry couldn�t just go back to his
comfortable life the way he had planned on. And he could even become a Dark
Lord.

�� Harry
couldn�t express the depths of his dismay at the idea. If there was one thing
his life should have preserved him from, it was that. He�d avoided the kind of
poisonous ambitions, the desire to surpass natural limits, that had made
Voldemort into the monster he was. How could he be a Dark Lord, when
he�d kept the emotions that drove his magic under control, when he�d avoided
all the temptations that came with fame?

�� It was
horrible, that he�d tried all he could to avoid interacting with the world in a
negative fashion, and now it seemed that that very work was undoing him and his
promises.

�� Harry?�

�� He looked
up and held Draco�s eyes. He had to strengthen this bond, Theresa had said,
because it was currently the strongest one in his life. Something- his sexual
attraction to Draco, his anger at him, or something else entirely- made Harry�s
barriers part where he was concerned. And he had no choice. This had to
happen, or he might become suicidal or insane and hurt others.

�� Harry could
not find words to express how much he hated that, either.

�� Do you
know,� Draco said, as if talking to the wall, �I find the way you�re glaring at
me most discouraging, Harry. I�m giving up my own time to help you. I�ve
indicated that I�m willing to persist, in spite of all the obstacles you�re
putting in my way. And you�re not trying to meet me even halfway. Perhaps I
should advise Theresa to take you to St. Mungo�s, after all.� He laid down his
fork and leaned across the table. Harry flinched back; he couldn�t help it. He
didn�t want Draco to touch him. Draco stopped, but his face darkened, and a
line settled between his brows. �Let me help you, Harry. Please.� The last word
was spoken through gritted teeth.

�� I- � Harry
stopped and closed his eyes, swallowing. �I do want to heal,� he said. It was
easier when he didn�t look at Draco. �I meant that. I said I�d try, and I meant
that, too. But that wasn�t the purpose you kidnapped me for, Draco. Don�t lie
to me, even if you�re going to lie to yourself.�

�� Draco
snorted. Harry peered between half-lowered lids to see an expression of vast
amusement on his face.

�� Of course
it isn�t,� said Draco. �I did take you for my own selfish purposes. But those
have changed now. And if I have to heal you before I can fuck you, that�s
hardly a sacrifice, Harry.� He reached out and leaned his hand on Harry�s arm,
not stroking, just pressing. Even that felt too good. Harry pulled his arm away
by reaching for his cup of orange juice. Draco hissed as his hand smacked flat
on the table, but his voice stayed calm, if a bit more forced than before. �Why
don�t you tell me why you�re so afraid of this? It�s friendship, not even sex,
Harry.�

�� I don�t
want to change,� Harry told his orange juice. �I still like the person I am,
Draco. And this is all about changing me, because the way of life I lived
wasn�t good enough.�

�� Of course
it wasn�t good enough,� Draco said. �And while you might have valued it, it�s
killing you, Harry. I understand that you�re afraid. But if you don�t change,
you�ll die- or go mad, and one Dark Lord was quite enough for my lifetime, thank
you. So resenting that this is necessary strikes me as useless. It won�t make
the problem go away, and it won�t change my intention to help you.�

�� Harry
closed his eyes and sat there in silence. It was really hitting him, for the
first time, that when he emerged from Malfoy Manor again, there would be no
returning to his flat and his job as they had been. His quiet, peaceful life
had been destroyed. He�d taken care of himself and managed quite well for
eleven years, but now that lay in pieces on the ground, and Draco and Theresa
would smack his hands if he attempted to pick them up again.

�� He shook
his head and stood. Suddenly the walls of the Manor seemed to press in on him,
hot and stifling.

�� Draco�s
hand caught his wrist. �Where are you going?�

�� I have to
get out of here.� Harry opened one eye and glared. �No, I�m not attempting to
go back on the bargain by leaving, Malfoy. I just- I have to fly, or be
somewhere else in the open air. I can�t stay here.�

�� Draco
smiled. It was such an unexpected sight that Harry stared, and nearly missed
his words. �Of course we can go somewhere else, Harry. Why didn�t you ask? I
told you that friends don�t just sit in the Manor or fly all the time. I�ve had
invitations arranged for a concert for some time. I thought we would go later,
when we knew each other better, but we can go this afternoon.�

�� The
concert�s being held this afternoon?� Harry asked doubtfully.

�� The
concert is held every day.� Draco waved his hand airily. �But only those with
standing invitations, such as the ones I have, are guaranteed the room to
attend.� He inclined his head to Harry. �Shall we go?�

�� Harry
hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could wait a few hours for the promise
of freedom. In the end, he nodded. It would give him some time to control
himself and think about the way he would appear in public.

�� Good.�
Draco stood and switched the grip on his elbow to his wrist. �Now, let me help
you choose the robes. Some of those in the wardrobe are only fit for lying
around the Manor in, you know.�

�� Why�d you
put them in there, then?� Harry muttered. He knew he ought to be more grateful
for Draco�s resolve to help him, but every reminder that he didn�t know things
Draco took for granted reminded him how utterly unsuited he was for this kind
of life.

�� Draco
raised an eyebrow at him. �Because I thought that you would need clothes
suitable for all the activities of your new life, Harry, not just attending
concerts.� He steered him firmly out of the room. �This way.�

�� Your new
life.

�� Harry
wished fervently for the old one for two moments, then shook his head and fell
into stride beside Draco. Wishing wouldn�t make it so.

*

�� Draco
wondered if Harry had considered what kind of splash they would make, arriving
together at one of Mrs. Parkinson�s fashionable concerts. There was the fact
that Draco had a new lover, of course, or so it would seem to those familiar
with his habits. There was the fact that his friends would at once become aware
that he�d caught Harry.

�� And for
those who might recognize him, there was the fact that the hero of the
wizarding world was at Draco Malfoy�s side.

�� Draco had
arranged this concert because, although outside the Manor, it didn�t truly
count as a public venture. Those who might recognize Harry would keep it quiet
and far from the ears of the Ministry, or the St. Mungo�s staff, who for all
they knew still had a comatose Harry Potter in their care. But they would
discuss, and they would speculate, and narrowed eyes would follow Draco
wherever he went from now on in this small social circle, gauging his prestige
and wondering what game he was playing.

�� Draco
enjoyed it all. He knew that Harry likely wouldn�t care for such games, or even
be disgusted with them. He didn�t care. He was deriving some benefits from
Harry�s presence in his life, the way Harry was from Draco�s presence in his.
Given what he was working through for Harry, Draco thought he deserved such
small considerations as these.

�� Mrs.
Parkinson�s conservatory was in the upper room of a large, Unplottable house
that her family owned in London. It was open to the sky, though spells
clustered invisibly about the windows, insuring that no sudden gust of wind
intruded, and that the air was always comfortably warm, no matter the weather.
The walls were a white that shaded into a pale green or rose here and there,
offering a cool, reserved atmosphere and never distracting attention from the
latest musical prodigy Mrs. Parkinson had discovered and set up here.

�� Draco
handed his cloak and Harry�s to the house-elf who came to meet them. Bussy
accepted them with a dignified bow, and then vanished with them, so softly that
Draco heard no crack. He smiled. Someday, Trippy might attain Bussy�s level of
calm and refined service, but he would not look for it soon. Bussy had been in
service to the Parkinson family for more than a hundred years, and Trippy
wasn�t even thirty yet.

�� Draco! How
pleasant of you to come, my dear. I know you said you were working on a new
project and might be away some time.�

�� Draco turned
to accept Gardenia Parkinson�s hand and kiss it. Pansy�s mother was half a
generation older than Narcissa, which might, Draco thought, account for her
greater poise. Draco had never seen her lose her temper, not once. Her
honey-colored hair hung loose and perfumed around a calm face whose tiniest
expression was important. Her eyes were large and blue, commanding. Though she
had her daughter�s unfortunate pug-face, her other features made up for it, as
did the air she projected, that invisible assurance that well-bred people would
never mention another�s ugliness behind her back. Draco sometimes
regretted that Pansy hadn�t been the mother and Gardenia the daughter; they
would have made a happy and politically devastating marriage, he was certain.

�� His gaze
slid sideways to Harry, and he straightened with a faint smile. Well, they
might have done, but he wasn�t sure that even Gardenia could have kept him
attached once he came to know Harry.

�� My
projects tend to take me less time in isolation than I think they will, ma�am,�
he said. �I long for the sound of sweet voices and the sight of fair faces much
sooner than I believe when I begin. And, of course, it helped that my latest
lover has agreed to come along for this afternoon.�

�� Gardenia
turned towards Harry, cocking her head. Draco was certain she knew who he was
even before Draco began the introduction, though the missing glasses and
charmed-away lightning bolt scar might have slowed her a bit. Gardenia had an
amazing memory for faces- once seen, never forgotten.

�� Gardenia
Parkinson, meet Harry Potter,� Draco murmured, deliberately keeping his voice
down. They were already receiving curious looks. He didn�t feel like indulging
that curiosity. �Harry, Gardenia Parkinson. Mother of Pansy Parkinson, of course.�

�� Of
course.� To his credit- or the credit of the Ministry functions that he had to
attend, perhaps- Harry sounded perfectly composed as he kissed Gardenia�s hand
in turn. Gardenia, of course, pretended so well to perfect delight that she
might really have felt it.

�� I have so
longed to meet you, Mr. Potter,� Gardenia said, and gave a little half-bow,
just her neck tilting down. �I can�t tell you how much I admired your skill as
Gryffindor Seeker during the one Hogwarts Quidditch match I found time to attend
while Pansy was still in school. It is not often that a natural talent such as
yours comes along. You have practiced since then, I hope?�

�� Ah- not
really,� Harry said, blinking. Draco knew why. He�d expected some reference to
Voldemort, and been thrown off completely by Gardenia�s method of attack. Draco
hid a smile. Mrs. Parkinson rarely did the expected. �I�ve been an Auror since
my seventeenth year. That leaves little time for Quidditch.�

�� Well, I�m
certain you defend our world as brilliantly.� Another half-bow, and Gardenia
turned to welcome a new guest.

�� Draco
escorted Harry with a hand on his back to a seat in the middle of the front row
of chairs. Eyes darted after them as they went, and tongues wagged, but Harry
didn�t seem to notice. Nor did he take notice of the position Draco�s hand was
in. It sent a clear claiming message to the rest of the room. Draco did catch
one too-interested gaze, from some flitting butterfly of a woman who was
probably an acquaintance of Pansy�s, and looked at her coldly enough that she
blushed and stopped drooling over Harry.

�� She�s a
bit- overwhelming,� Harry voiced, once they were seated.

�� Draco
nodded. �That�s her. If Pansy had been like that, she would have done a lot
better in our social circles than she has.� He looked forward. It appeared that
Mrs. Parkinson�s latest discovery was a harpist. A tall harp sat shimmering in
the middle of the floor, at least, and Draco could see a woman peering from a
curtain at the side of the room, a witch with silvery robes and so many ribbons
in her hair it looked as though she�d robbed a haberdashery.

�� I barely
remember Pansy,� Harry said, in distraction, and lapsed into silence. Draco let
him. He had something to think about. Draco would let him think it. Besides, it
was a bit exhausting to concentrate on Harry all the time.

�� A few
people looked as if they might approach them, but the music began first, the
beribboned witch walking out to take her place at the harp at a subtle signal
from Gardenia. Draco knew that she gave such a signal, but he had never managed
to see it, though he always looked. It seemed, instead, as if the musician
simply floated out and sat down at her harp, hands carefully arranged.

�� There came
a few moments when those still drifting around the room scrambled for their
seats.

�� Gardenia
announced the harpist, whose name was apparently Melinda Moonsong- an assumed
name, of course, Draco knew, since there was no family named Moonsong in the
surrounding area, and Gardenia wouldn�t have selected a commoner, no matter how
outstanding the talent.

�� Melinda
began to play.

*

�� Harry
frowned and shook his head. If Mrs. Parkinson could recognize him and yet not
react with fawning or mockery, did that mean that he might be able to go out in
public sometimes and not need to hide at home?

�� Wait.
When did I begin to think of it as hiding, instead of something I want to do?

�� And then
the music swept in and stole all his thoughts away.

�� Harry had
never cared much for harp music, or music in general. If someone asked him, he
might have shrugged and said that a harp sounded all right, if he could
distinguish it from a lute or any other stringed instrument.

�� He had
never been in the presence of someone truly talented, and so he had never known
that music could affect him like light.

�� His eyes
shut, and he found himself sitting up, leaning towards Draco; Draco was
slightly closer to the harp. Draco�s arm curved up around his shoulders and
supported him. Just this once, Harry didn�t mind it. He wanted to listen.

�� The song
plucked at him, ripples of warmth that traveled up his spine and through his
belly. In his mind, he saw light likewise glinting and rippling, a serene lake
in sunshine. The depth of the song revealed the reflections of trees drifting
in the water, and the sudden cascade of paler notes that followed the dark
cadences called Harry�s heart after them. He lost the image of the pool and the
trees, but it didn�t matter, because the song was already creating new ones.

�� He tried to
remember the last time he had listened to music for its own sake. He couldn�t
remember it. Wormwood usually kept the WWN on, but Harry found the songs on it
a distraction at best. Who cared about some silly singer�s broken heart
when there was work to be done?

�� And then
there was this.

�� The music
soared and dived, and his mood soared and dived after it. The composer could
have been thinking of light when she wrote this, or forests, or a broken heart
after all. Harry didn�t know, and he didn�t really care. What mattered was the
way that the music fractured in his ears, the way it influenced his mind.

�� He forgot
about work entirely, listening to this. He forgot about his resentment over
changing his life. He forgot about his problems with Draco. There was the song,
and the darkness behind his eyelids, and the pictures that sprouted there, and
nothing else.

�� He had
never known he enjoyed music.

�� He returned
to earth as the song ended in a chorus of light notes. When he opened his eyes,
the harpist was standing and bowing. Harry brought his hands together as the
others began to applaud.

�� He was
aware from the stares that his clapping was probably loud enough to be
considered uncouth. He didn�t care. That song deserved it.

�� Besides,
Draco was smirking at him as if this were perfectly all right. His smirk
disappeared, though, when Harry turned to him and said, not considering the
words before he spoke them, �Thank you.�

�� Just before
he turned back to the harpist again, Harry thought the smirk had become a
smile.

*********

�� SLQ: I wouldn�t
call what the spell reveals soul bonds, just bonds of attachment to other
people. The spell wouldn�t show indifference at all. Each level varies with the
intensity of the emotions expressed; thus a cool friendship could be yellow,
while a passionate one could be indigo.

�� Yes, Draco
has spent a lot of time preparing this plan to catch and hold Harry. He knows
that Harry could break free, but that would involve a lot of explanations that
he doesn�t really want to make. And now that Harry has heard that he could die
if he doesn�t do something to improve his life, his breaking free is less
likely to happen.

�� Lady Lynn:
No psych courses. Mostly, just a lot of reading.

�� Druella
Rosier: Thanks! I view Harry�s childhood as a sort of testing period. If it had
gone on longer than it did, if there was no wizarding world to rescue him, then
I could see Harry becoming either suicidal or highly anti-social.
- 16
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Learning Life Over