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For Their Unconquerable Souls	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29229 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Seventeen--Narcissa to the Rescue

Narcissa remained with Lucius that afternoon, whilst Draco went to watch Harry sleep and probably try another phase of his unsuccessful courtship. Narcissa knew it would be unsuccessful because she did not yet see true commitment to honesty in her son�s eyes. Harry would need more than that. Draco was still focused too much at the moment on wooing. If he sought to change Harry so that he would become a more acceptable Malfoy, he had also to change himself.
But her son was young enough to learn lessons once they had collided twice or thrice with his stubborn head. Narcissa was more concerned at the moment with Lucius, in whose face she had recognized subtle signs of weakening.
It was a slow poisoning. He spoke of Harry after Draco left, slipping between his last name and his first alternately--something he never would have done in a normal mood. He touched her hand and then let his own hand drop as if he had forgotten the point he was trying to make with the gesture. He stared at the ceiling with glazed eyes for a moment or two when Narcissa was describing the reactions of the Death Eater wives and daughters she had met with so far.
He was feeling inadequate, Narcissa thought. Confined to bed, not as physically strong as normal, with the main part he could play in keeping Harry in the family as a patient only, he needed some means of triumph.
She leaned towards him, still speaking smooth, cool words. Lucius didn�t notice. His eyes had fixed gloomily on the foot of the bed, and his mouth had curved into the kind of frown usually followed by a Blasting Curse.
Narcissa leaned a hand on his shoulder and kissed him.
He turned towards her, a startled exclamation bubbling in his throat, and Narcissa kissed him again. She had long ago mastered a wandless, nonverbal spell that would release her hair from any confinement, and now it fell waving around her face and his, a fall of gleaming blonde untouched by gray. Lucius made another wordless sound, greedy this time, and tangled his hands in it.
Narcissa smiled.
They moved slowly, as though underwater, struggling against the invisible weight that was Lucius�s injury (and, for Narcissa at least though perhaps not for Lucius, the inaudible words that Harry would speak if he could see them, scolding them for taking any chance that could set back his patient�s healing). Narcissa used her hands and mouth to make Lucius shudder, sigh, and throw his head back; she avoided his chest where the most wounds had opened. Lucius recovered and gazed at her with his face flushed and aglow, then indicated she should move up the bed and straddle his mouth. Narcissa did so, and found it hard to do anything but close her eyes when Lucius proved that his tongue did not always say foolish things. The words he mouthed against her groin and her vulva were more than clever.
But she had always been unable to live in the body only (one thing that she and her new son had in common). Even as she arched her back and cried out in a soft, breathy voice she never heard at any other time and which didn�t sound like her own, her mind was busy working, delving into the question of what ought to happen next.
They needed time. They needed secrecy. They needed answers. They needed power.
Reluctantly, as she collapsed beside her husband and turned so that they were lying neck against neck and shoulder to shoulder, Narcissa decided that she would need to retract the revenge story she had created for Eleanor Greenbriar about Lucius pursuing another woman. It would cost them too much trouble at the moment if it were believed. She needed a different tack instead, and she would think of one.
She took revenge by biting Lucius on the throat instead, and then casting a glamour to cover the injury. Lucius whinged a bit about the drawing of blood and the minor pain, but knew better than to inquire for her reasons.

*
Narcissa paused when she stepped into the library. Harry was standing with a hand braced on the shelves, scowling at them as if he thought the books he wanted were deliberately hiding. His muscles were all locked stiff and straight; his sleep after his healing of Lucius had perhaps done him no good at all.
�Harry,� she said, letting the door fall to behind her with a small squeak so as not to startle him, �why didn�t you tell me you wanted more Healing books? I would have had the house-elves bring them to you.�
Harry turned around and bowed promptly, this time catching himself on a chair. He had a smile on his face, but it didn�t take Narcissa�s level of experience and training with false expressions to know this for a simple, shallow mask. And why did he need a hand on the shelf and the chair? He might have been using his fingers against the wood of the bookshelves to trace a particular line of titles, but on the chair, he could have no such excuse.
�I didn�t think of it,� he replied, with a faint rasp to his voice that Narcissa thought would have been too subtle for Draco to notice. �I�m not used to dealing with house-elves. And you�ve already done so much for me.� He forced a blush onto his skin, and Narcissa wondered why he would need to feign embarrassment, when so far he had done well enough growing it naturally. �Besides, I�m afraid I wanted to see more of this house.�
Narcissa moved a few steps closer. Harry had shifted his shoulders as if he would gesture around the library, and then frozen at the last moment, hissing quietly under his breath. He probably wasn�t aware of the motions; they were the kind of thing few people would notice. Narcissa sought an answer for them, and noticed the tight creases at the corners of his eyes and the way he held his head as if it were full of blown eggs. Pain, but what part of the body it is coming from I do not yet know.

�No need to apologize,� said Narcissa. She luxuriated in the cool feel of the tile under her feet; the library floor had been replaced with brilliant blue glass a year ago, when Narcissa had remarked to Lucius that she never saw enough of the sky in the Manor. �But I do wish you had felt free to call a house-elf for help. That would have found the Healing books for you more quickly than this search would have.�
That got her a tight smile, which crinkled with more pain. Time, perhaps, for more direct tactics.
�I fear you are in pain.�
Harry shook his head at once, and promptly staggered. From the green tint to the edge of his chin and his cheeks, Narcissa thought he had nearly vomited. A soft �Fuck,� escaped his lips.
A headache, then. Narcissa narrowed her eyes. How did I not notice this before? Of course, if Harry Potter were skilled in one form of feigning, it would be hiding his own wounds.

�I�m so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy,� Harry said, absurdly, a real blush on his cheeks this time, whilst his eyes watered with the pain. Rogers popped into view to the side, his ears drawn flat against his head like a spitting cat�s. Narcissa had seen Draco briefly that morning, and she knew that her son had given Harry into their oldest elf�s charge. Rogers looked torn, now, between exasperation that Harry had escaped his sight for even a few minutes and concern that it had caused him real injury.
Narcissa had already waved her wand, of course, and a blue mist visible only to her eyes had flowed out of her wand and encircled Harry�s head. It came back to her a moment later, and imprinted letters on her mind as gently as a baby�s hand pressing against an adult�s. A headache curse.

She could not have been more startled and mortified if a house-elf had had to empty a bucket of ice water over her head to awaken her in time for a social call. She clenched her hands shut and allowed herself a moment�s luxury of fingers pressing tightly into her skin.
I should have noticed.

A small sentence, but it was enough to remind her of her duty. It was the duty of a pure-blood matriarch to see to the comfort of guests in her home, which she knew in ways that were likely to be different from her husband�s; if she had married into the family, so much the better, because her learned familiarity with the house could enable her to see weaknesses those born into it would never notice. And she had claimed Harry as her son by blood, she had encouraged Lucius and Draco to speak more gently to him, and what had she done?
She had missed something as simple and basic as a headache curse, which meant Harry had spent needless time in pain.
A shiver of irritation worked up her spine and then down again. She had to take deep breaths to contain the ache that the shiver wanted to become. However, with Harry so involved in his own embarrassment, she didn�t think he had noticed--one good consequence of his ridiculous concern with swearing in front of her, at least.
�I am more sorry, for not noticing the curse on you at once,� she said. �As the guardian of this house, I should have noticed anything on my guests that might cause them harm.� He would not understand the full impact of the apology, but she needed to speak it for her own sanity. And if he did become more fully a part of the family in knowledge as well as blood and study the traditions, he would understand someday. Narcissa was willing to wait for that. It had taken Lucius and Draco years to learn certain lessons she had wanted to teach them.
She stepped forwards and pressed her fingers against Harry�s temples, orienting herself to the curse. It circled his head like a tight circlet of thorny gold, pressing so close that Narcissa was surprised he did not cry out.
But he has been taught to disregard it, she decided, seeing Harry�s eyes more focused on her, more concerned with what she was doing, than with the notion that he was cursed. Something is dreadfully wrong with him, yes. No normal soul binds to pain like that, when pleasure is available instead.

The person who had cast the curse was probably one of those who had done much to habituate him to agony, Narcissa thought. Therefore, she cast a spell that twined into the curse and stripped it from him rather than one that simply made it vanish. The stripped curse blew into her head as Harry staggered and Rogers caught his elbow to keep him from falling.
�Master Harry Potter has not learned what sense is yet. Rogers did so hope he would have.� The elf shook his head, his ears flapping and his eyes big with sorrow.
Narcissa stood still a moment to absorb the information her spell had brought her. It contained a certain magical signature, one that throbbed with angry life and malignant power--but not power that reminded her of the Dark Lord or her Dark sister. This was the signature of someone frustrated in life, she judged, someone who would cast the curse on Harry for petty revenge.
But the effects on Harry had not been petty. They had fed into the sickness in his soul that made him consider he deserved no better than hard work and constant anguish. Therefore, Narcissa would take vengeance on the caster, as soon as she had placed the magical signature into a Pensieve, compared it to her memories of the time they had spent in hospital, and determined which Healer or mediwizard had a signature like it.
�I�I don�t know what you did, but thank you.� Harry raised his head with a sickly smile. Narcissa wondered if he had ever known what it was to be in true health. �No magic has ever affected them before. Even headache potions only help for a while.�

�I should think they do,� said Narcissa, and frowned at him. Did he never suspect unnatural means of pain when that was the case, when the headaches escaped measures that should have affected them? She did not think Harry was stupid, having seen him react quickly and effectively under extreme pressure, but this was another sign of the way he diverted attention, even his own, from himself. �There was a curse on you, Harry, one that made you suffer devastating headaches at random intervals. I haven�t seen it often, which is the only excuse I can give for not banishing it the moment you stepped into our home.�
Anger and regret tightened her throat. Understanding of pure-blood traditions or not, Harry might still blame her for failing to protect him.

Harry stared at her. Then he swallowed. �Would a Healer have known that spell and how to apply it?� he asked.

Yes, he is not unintelligent. His mind is running along the same lines as mine did. �Oh, surely.� Narcissa twitched her head in a quick toss. �The reverse of that spell is a charm developed by--� say the right word �--Muggleborns to cure migraines. It would be easy enough to turn it back and use its opposite.�

Harry hissed between his teeth. His eyes focused on the distance for a moment, flat and deadly. Narcissa studied him with covert approval. Let him only look like that at the one who cast the curse, and I will not have so many fears for his safety.

�Thank you,� he whispered again, and his eyes turned soft and warm once more. Narcissa did not think his anger had passed, but he was good at burying it, it seemed, and turning his mind to something else, in this case thanking her--
For something she did not deserve thanks for.

�You need not thank me,� said Narcissa. �As I said, I keep this house. I am in charge of making sure our guests are comfortable�in all ways. And my not noticing the curse at once, and letting you suffer through it for a day, is inexcusable.� Her foot beat a tattoo on the tiles. To stop it--though she supposed displaying irrepressible agitation could go some way towards convincing Harry how sincerely she cared for him--she sank into a curtsey. The tile was cool against her feet, her knee, her skirts. �Can you forgive me?�

Harry was silent for long moments, as if fighting his anger. But Narcissa knew she had mistaken the emotion when he spoke. �Of course,� he whispered. �I had no idea it was there, how could you?�

�It has to do with the duties of a pure-blood family and a pure-blood hostess,� said Narcissa. �And a pure-blood lady of the family.� She rose to her feet and laid her wrists on Harry�s shoulders, staring into his eyes. �There is so much you have been deprived of,� she whispered. �I bless your mother for dying for you, because she saved us all.�

The hunger in Harry�s face went into Narcissa�s heart like a splinter of ice. How many people have ever praised his parents? How many different stories has he managed to hear about them? One would think his Muggle relatives would speak of his mother, sing her story, and value him the more because her blood bought his life, but Muggles do not understand the most basic necessities, sometimes.

�But I wish she had lived, to provide you with those things you had missed.� Narcissa caressed Harry�s cheek this time, and she made a silent vow to that brave Mudblood woman, dead these twenty-six years, that she would do her best to care for her son in Lily�s place. �You are noble and self-sacrificing, we have seen that, but those virtues have overgrown the other virtues you might have developed. I hope that we can teach you to explore other possibilities than being a flawless hero at all times.� She smiled at him, seeing from the twitch around his eyes that that was enough truth for right now, and retreated into a more cool commonplace. �Now, tell me the Healing books you�re looking for.�

�Any that reference Dark magic,� Harry said, and his eyes fluttered, as if he didn�t want to ask for her help but didn�t see how he could avoid it. �And any that might explain why the blood magic worked to heal your husband yesterday.�

Narcissa paused, forcing herself to remember this moment. Harry would rather look to books for answers than ask his new family simple questions.
I will remember that. One measure of our success in making him part of the Malfoys will be when he actually does ask those questions.

She laughed in the next moment, so that Harry would not put an ill interpretation on her silence. �Ah, you should have asked me about that,� she said, and stroked Harry�s cheek again. It was pleasant indeed to have a child she could touch this much, and who leaned into the caresses even if he would have denied that he needed it in words. Draco had early outgrown fondness for his mother�s signs of affection. �It works by the combined efforts of the family, a commitment of as much of themselves as they can safely give.�

Harry shook his head. �But how could it not have healed the curse Lucius was under? Why did you come to St. Mungo�s in the first place?�

�We can only heal damage we see and understand,� said Narcissa. Which is why we need to know more about you before we can heal you completely. �We did not know the Mirror Maze existed, or even that the wounds opening on my husband�s body were the result of a combination of curses.� She considered, and decided Harry could endure a short lesson. �And besides, we can only commit as much of ourselves as is safe. Our priority is the survival of the family. If it turned out that the wounds run so deep we might destroy two family members in healing one, we would pull back.�

Harry nodded slowly. Fierce emotions rolled under his eyes and expression like battling sea-creatures, emotions Narcissa could barely understand or guess at. But she would need to familiarize herself with them. Until Harry learned the benefits of valuing his life, they would have to value it for him.

�You still have much to learn,� Narcissa continued, but made her voice a gentle murmur rather than a scold. �We will not punish you for your ignorance. Come and speak with me if you cannot bear the thought of asking my husband or son.� She stiffened her expression. �And now, if you will excuse me, I am going to seek out a Pensieve.�

She could feel Harry staring at her in bafflement as she swept out, but she knew that she had made at least one advance into his feelings. Harry judged people by their actions--unless they were his patients, and then he seemed to judge mostly the actions that might jeopardize their health. And she had cured his headache curse, giving him freedom from pain.

He would remember that when her words faded.

*
celestialuna: Thank you!
hieisdragoness18: Yes. I feel I know this story better when writing through Draco�s perspective now.
DTDY: I definitely feel sorrier for him than I did during the original story.
Sara: I�ll try to keep up regular updates. At the moment, I don�t know if I can promise any more.

linagabriev: I can�t yet tell you what will happen (of course), only that you may be surprised by what Draco does to/with the information on the Dursleys.
Nusku: Draco doesn�t yet know what he will do, which is perhaps more worrisome than anything else.
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For Their Unconquerable Souls