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An Alchemical Discontent	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10911 -:- 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.

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Chapter Eighteen�Against the Barriers

�� Draco came
gasping out of the latest experience that had flowed over him like bloody
water. Or was it a dream? Or a combination of one of the memories Daphne had
returned to him and something she had been doing to his body at the same time?
She had a previously unsuspected talent for using Legilimency at the same time
as she deployed a whip, a scallop shell, or a sharp-toothed comb, causing Draco
to lose his hold on reality and tumble into her reality.

�� He was
still bound with the wire, he found when he tried to move, and his ribs had a
tender soreness about them that made him suspect he was at least bruised there.
But this time, instead of hanging upside-down, he was bound to a chair. He was
naked, and when he looked down, he could see a glittering curl of wire
uncomfortably close to his groin. He shuddered.

��

�� Ah. You�re
awake.�

�� Daphne
stepped in front of him. Draco blinked and stared. There were bleeding crescent
moons on her belly, the mark of scrabbling nails, and a sharp bite on her right
breast that looked human. Had he done that? If so, he retained no
memories of it from their latest encounter.

�� Then he
reminded himself of how clever Daphne was. She could have given the marks to
herself and displayed them on purpose to confuse his sense of time. Draco
lifted his chin and glared at her, not choosing to speak.

�� Daphne held
out her wand, still smiling. Draco jumped and cried out, the bonds tightening
and cutting into his flesh. His hipbone had suddenly rotated in its socket,
causing a sparking, blinding pain that reminded him of nothing so much as his
body turning against him.

�� Watch it,
Draco,� Daphne murmured. �I wouldn�t like it if you somehow thought you had authority
here.� She turned slightly away from him, and for the first time, Draco
noticed a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. They were in a bedroom, but it
didn�t look like the ones his scattered memories had returned to him, chambers
buried deeply inside her fortress-like home where they often fucked. Daphne
pointed her wand at the mirror, and an image blurred and flickered to life.

�� He had to
swallow to keep his resolution of not speaking. The image showed Harry and
Granger leaving the Ministry entrance by the broken phone box. Granger was
consulting what looked like a map, her mouth set in a grim line and her fingers
moving from place to place on the parchment with astonishing rapidity.

�� And Harry�

�� A
combination of pleasure and distress sent a long shiver down Draco�s spine.
Harry�s face was pale and quiet. He showed no sign of anger outwardly, the way
Granger did. He had no expression at all, in fact, and might have been passed
by people in the street as someone having an ordinary day.

�� But Draco
had never seen his eyes glow like that, not even the first time they had brewed
the Desire potion together and Harry had so far forgotten himself as to lick
Draco�s hand. It was rage, and not pleasure, that made Harry so pale. And Draco
could imagine the magic and power brewing beneath that still surface, ready to
explode on the nearest available target.

�� Merlin,
let it be Daphne.

�� A snap of
Daphne�s wrist, and the image in the mirror vanished. Draco looked up as she
turned to regard him again, tapping her wand on her arm. She looked thoughtful,
assessing, the way she might if she were buying a fine house or investing half
her money in a chancy business. Draco knew what that expression meant, and he
didn�t like it.

�� But what
would he gain from cowering and acting afraid? His task right now was to stay
alive until Harry found him. Annoying Daphne was not the way to do so, but
giving her what she wanted would only afford her more reasons to torture him,
so as to inspire more fear. He stuck his most neutral mask on his face and
waited for her to complete her appraisal.

�� I have had
many lovers,� Daphne said. �And most of them have come, in turn, to love me, or
at least feel some degree of liking for me.�

�� Draco kept
his bewilderment at the change of subject off his face. Stay alive. The more
strange things she says to you, the less time she spends hurting you. And there
might be a clue in one of these statements.

�� Even in
cases where they were unwilling to indulge my�particular preferences, we
have come to an understanding,� Daphne continued, her voice soft and lulling.
�An arrangement.� Her green eyes shone, and though they really weren�t that
different in color from Harry�s, just a little less intense, Draco could only
marvel at the difference in effect on him. �They gave me what I wanted. I gave
them what they wanted. We parted mutually satisfied.

�� And yet, I
find myself unable to do so with you. The disadvantage of using Legilimency in
the ways I have trained myself to do is that any lover subjected to it reacts with
a restricted range of emotions. Uncertainty, doubt, fear�one may adore them and
yet grow tired of them with time. Whereas someone who knows what I have done
with him feels reluctant pleasure, disquiet, disgust with himself, perhaps some
weariness as we near the end of the arrangement.�

�� She cocked
her head and began to pace around him. Draco hated it when she passed behind
him, then paused and pressed her wand into the back of his neck. But he held
himself still and didn�t react except in the ways he couldn�t help,
half-closing his eyes and letting out a single tense breath.

�� I see no
other way than to tame you with these unknown spells and with Legilimency,
however,� Daphne continued. �The first time we met, you bargained from too
great a position of self-respect to bow to what I wanted of you. And this time,
your own shame preoccupied you, and then the fear caused by my spells. To earn anything
from you, I need to accept that I will not get everything I desire.�

�� Draco
blinked. He wasn�t sitting directly in front of the mirror, but he was sure it
would have reflected his bewildered expression if he was.

�� But now
there is something new involved,� Daphne said. �Something that was not in your
eyes when you first came to me, shivering with desperation to have forty
thousand Galleons.� An odd contempt touched her voice for a moment, and then
vanished as she continued. Draco would have snorted if he dared. She had some
nerve scorning him for whoring himself out for money, considering the crimes
she had committed, both moral and sexual. �And that new thing makes me less
certain than ever that I will get what I want, even if I kill you.�

�� Draco
judged it might be time to respond when the pressure of the wand on his neck
increased with his continued silence. He cleared his throat. �What is this
thing?� he asked. �You may be sure that I would have tried to conceal it if I
knew about it. Any strength unknown to its possessor is a weakness.�

�� Daphne
laughed a little, and the wand eased up. Draco felt free to breathe again. She
stepped in front of him and studied him thoughtfully.

�� You are
considering commitment, and not to me,� she said. �I know that look in the eyes
of a lover. When someone who shares my bed begins to dream of other flesh, to
see that body imprinted before his waking eyes, to feel the shape of shoulders
and a chest not my own molding to him, I always know.�

�� Draco
frowned, not understanding. He had already been attracted to Harry when he came
to Daphne, after all, and he could not believe she would not have sensed that,
particularly when she could read it out of his head. �I am not in love with
anyone,� he said.

�� There are
other forms of commitment than love,� Daphne said. �Indeed, love is chancier
than most people think it, when it can veer and change as infatuation often
does, and when it is subject to such deep wounds in case of betrayal. But
loyalty, friendship, the desire to trust and to stay trusting, instead
of the desire to stop when one feels oneself getting too involved�that is what
you are feeling that you did not before. That is what other lovers of mine have
felt in the past, when they were ready to pair with someone who was not me. And
often I have had no choice but to let them go, because I would never derive as
much satisfaction from them again, and I knew it.�

�� Draco
caught his breath. Could Daphne have kidnapped him and given him back his
memories simply because she intended to surrender him when Harry arrived? It
would be strange, but Slytherins had done stranger things for excitement, and
she might like the notion that his life and his chance of happiness with Harry
were gifts from her hands.

�� Daphne
leaned forwards. �Your thoughts are so plain on your face,� she said softly, �I
do not even need Legilimency to read them.�

�� Perhaps
not, then. Draco drew into himself and tried to look as if he were a wary
man of the world, ready for anything.

�� With you,�
Daphne said, �so hard to tame, and so intent on settling for someone else even
before you came to me, there is only one thing I may do to gain the
satisfaction I desire.� She turned her wand over twice in her hands, then
looked up and into his face.

�� I will let
this Harry Potter you are so fond of come before me,� she said, �though I will
test his magical strength with a few trials beforehand, of course. And then I
will kill him.�

�� Draco
ducked his head, but it was too late. She had seen the way his face changed.
She chuckled.

�� No, that
is not quite the expression I want,� she said, �but for now it will do.�

*

�� And you
are certain this is it?� Harry stared at the enormous house in front of them
with his hands clenching around the stalks of the tall bushes that hid him and
Hermione. The house itself looked fairly ordinary, not even as imposing as
Malfoy Manor had looked when they �visited� it during the war. The fa�ade had
beautiful Classical columns, but the gardens surrounding it were shaggy with
dark green bushes, and the house itself was neat and self-contained, made of
brick, without spreading wings to either side.

�� This is
the address Daphne Greengrass has on record with the Ministry,� Hermione said.
She had been nearly as tense as Harry ever since they had acquired the map to
Greengrass�s house. She shadowed his every movement, clearly not intent on
letting him charge into danger alone. Now she looked down at the map as if
checking it, though Harry knew well enough it didn�t show individual
buildings�he had memorized it before he would let Hermione touch it�and nodded.
�The Ministry does require some knowledge of where people live, you
know, so it can tax them appropriately.�

�� She might
have a hidden lair,� Harry breathed. He found it hard to think, but as long as
he concentrated on the goal immediately in front of them, he could maintain a
calm eye in the center of the rising storm of rage in his head. Right now, he
had to work out where Draco was, so that was the overriding determination.

�� Really,
Harry, she�s not an Acromantula,� Hermione snapped. Then she paused, as if
reminded by her words of the battle with Cordelia, and moved behind him. Harry
glanced over his shoulder at her as she waved her wand and murmured a soft
spell. A moment later, he yelped as his back flared with light. Luckily,
Hermione had already cast a concealment spell to cover the light, or Harry
would have cast one himself and then yelled at her. This way, he could proceed
straight to the yelling.

�� Hermione!
What��

�� You didn�t
heal that wound that Cordelia gave you when we fought her,� Hermione
interrupted in some disgust. �You just stopped the progress of the curse. The
stasis spell might have worn off whilst we were fighting Greengrass, and what
would you have done then, I wonder?� She clucked under her breath and
shoved him forwards, so Harry had to hang on to two stalks of the bushes in
front of him in order to keep his balance. �Hold still so I can heal it.�

�� Harry
rolled his eyes, but didn�t protest. Hermione was right; the curse could indeed
have become a problem when they went into the house to fight Greengrass.

�� And he
wanted absolutely nothing to distract him from finding Draco.

�� The rage
roared through him at that, as red and fast and large as the Hogwarts Express.
Harry closed his eyes and welcomed it, luxuriating in the way it made his
muscles lock and tremble and the adrenaline pound up and down in his head. He
should be doing things.

�� The rage
gave him the strength to do them.

�� He had to
admit now that Draco was right, that giving up this emotion had been like
locking a piece of himself away. Of course, it was a piece he had managed to do
very well without for six years; he could live without getting
tumultuously angry over minor things every five minutes.

�� But that he
had forgotten what it was like to hurl curses in battle, to want to hurt
someone for hurting someone else he loved�

�� That is
not moral and you know it, Harry, his conscience said, and presented him
with the image of his casting the Cruciatus Curse in retaliation for Carrow
spitting on McGonagall during the war. That had not been justified. McGonagall
had been in no pain, simply insulted, and the Cruciatus was a means of causing
pain, unendurable enough when Harry had experienced it in the graveyard
that he would not have wished it on any other human being.

�� At the
time, anyway.

�� But he had
changed enormously between the end of his fourth year and the end of his quest
for the Horcruxes, and part of him had deepened and ripened into an
appreciation of hatred for his enemies. Dumbledore had been quite wrong to
think that Harry was capable only of love. The very desire for vengeance he�d
felt when he considered how Voldemort murdered his parents was an indication of
that. But Harry had never confronted that desire in himself because he�d
been too young and callow, and when it called attention to itself, he panicked
and imprisoned it.

�� Now he
would have to take his thirst for revenge in hand if he was to have a hope of
rescuing Draco. Daphne Greengrass was subtle, skilled in Legilimency and in
magic that Harry had never heard of before, as well as the creation of new spells.
What Harry had against that was brute strength and the slight added advantage
of his potion enhancing his magic.

�� And the
rage.

�� Harry
licked his lips, glad at that moment he�d never told Draco exactly what his
magic had done to Ginny so that Greengrass wouldn�t have a chance to read it
out of Draco�s mind and anticipate his actions, and raised his eyes as Hermione
finished removing the curse from his back. The house looked back at him, calm
and ordinary on the surface. Hermione had told him that Greengrass had probably
used wizardspace inside, however, so that she could have more rooms, and more
luxurious ones, than the house would otherwise let her contain. They might have
to find their way through a maze before they reached Draco, or they might have
to fight cunning and elaborate traps.

�� Harry
didn�t care.

�� The force
of his indifference to the danger struck him like a bracing wind, and stole his
breath away in the same manner. He didn�t care. Greengrass could have
imprisoned Draco on top of a volcano crowded with dangerous magical creatures
maddened with a clever Imperius curse, and Harry�s only fear would have been
that she would drop Draco into the volcano before Harry could reach her.

�� He would
tear her limb from limb if that was what was required. Or he would bind her
hand and foot and meekly deliver her up to the Aurors. There was nothing he
would not do to ensure Draco�s safety.

�� Harry
shivered. He wondered at how long it had taken him to recognize the manner in
which the potion had changed, or, for that matter, his own feelings for Draco.
Even though his potion suppressed his sexual jealousy, it didn�t suppress love;
it had never changed the way he felt about Ron and Hermione, and only time had
altered the gentler emotions he felt for Ginny.

�� I
suppose I became so used to lying to myself about my emotions that I
automatically concealed them when something changed.

�� Well, no
more. Harry would do anything required to reach Greengrass, and anything
required to make sure Draco was happy and safe after that�court him, give him
up to some other lover, visit him with flowers every day, help him brew two
dozen cauldrons of the Desire potion. That was what he wanted to do, and
if his own will and his own potion couldn�t keep him from doing it, who did
Daphne Greengrass think she was to try?

�� There,�
Hermione said abruptly, and Harry jumped a little. �That�s every wound from the
last battle healed. I of course didn�t need any healing magic myself, since I
fought them rationally.� She stepped up to Harry and stared into his
face for a moment. �Be careful.�

�� I know
that,� Harry said. The rage roared through him like a dragon again, and he
trembled with eagerness.

�� You don�t
look like you know it,� Hermione muttered, and then sighed. �Malfoy�s going to
be a permanent part of our lives if we get him back, isn�t he?� she asked the
air.

�� Glad to
see you recognize that,� Harry said, and then cast a Disillusionment Charm on
himself and started walking towards the house, leaving Hermione, grumbling, to
follow.

*

�� Nothing
happened until they had crossed the porch and come in among those Classical
columns. Harry couldn�t even feel wards. Of course, that meant they were there
and he just couldn�t sense them. He was tense and ready, despite what Hermione
might think, to move in a moment if anything coiled around his legs or tried to
strike at his back.

�� But the
first strike, it turned out, came from above. Stone shifted, and then small
gargoyles that had crouched out of sight on the pediments of the columns came
swooping down at Harry and Hermione, shrill screeches tearing out of their
throats.

�� Harry
turned to the side, so that the first gargoyle swooped over him, and lifted his
wand. He hadn�t seen the point of putting it away from the moment they�d
stepped out of the bushes. �Reducto!� he shouted, and the force of the
spell caught the gargoyle in the chest and smashed it to the steps.

�� Cracks
radiated through the stone with such quickness and force that Harry was
surprised. He understood, though, when each fragment grew wings, a head, and
taloned hands, and then there were two gargoyles where there had been one. They
both sprang at him, one rushing his knees, one diving at his head.

�� Hermione,
from the sound of it, was using the same spell she had on the Acromantula,
gathering up her attackers into one silken net. Harry favored different
tactics, and he had the chance to think about which one he might use; for some
reason, the gargoyles seemed to come at him in slow motion.

�� He laughed
aloud, and the magic moved without his directing it, the way it had when the
young witch came to the door of his flat.

�� Ice covered
the gargoyle attacking from above, and it fell heavily to the steps. This time,
though, when it tried to crack and divide, the ice wrapped itself more firmly
around the stone, thickening and holding on like permafrost. Harry leaped the
gargoyle that tried to grab his knees, receiving no more than a nick from its
claws in passing.

�� The
gargoyle turned around to come back, and then his magic took over. A glittering
ball of ice crystals simply appeared around it; no matter how fast Harry
looked at it, he knew he couldn�t have caught the ice in the process of
formation. And the magic gave the gargoyle no chance to land on the steps at
all. It hovered in midair, bulging and rippling with odd blue shadows as its
prisoner struggled futilely to break free. Harry laughed again and looked about
for more gargoyles, eager to see how his magic would unite with his will this
time.

�� Hermione
was just Summoning the last one into her silken bag, which she wove extra tight
with another wave of her wand. Then she looked at him sternly. It was obvious
she found either his laughter or his wandless magic entirely inappropriate.

�� Is it best
to show her all our advantages before we even enter the house?� she snapped at
him.

�� It would be
his wandless magic, then. Harry tried to calm the joy flooding through him, but
he seemed to have utterly lost his ability to build dams in front of his
emotions. At least thinking of the possible danger Draco could be in allowed
him to channel them. It was more important to press forwards and try to find
Draco than to stand about looking for things to hit.

�� I�m
ready,� he said, and smiled at Hermione, and cast a spell that should detect
traps on the door. Nothing. Then he cast a spell to detect wards. Nothing
again. At last he opened the door from a distance with a charm that worked like
an invisible hand pushing on it. It opened on darkness. Greengrass would not
have been obliging enough to have lit rooms she wasn�t occupying, and of course
she wouldn�t have Draco on the ground floor of her house; that would be too
easy.

�� Let�s
find out where she has him, then.

�� Harry
stepped forwards.

*

�� Interesting,�
Daphne said, and swirled her wand at the mirror, making it change its image
from the porch of the manor house to the front room, a dim, shaded place. Draco
could just barely make out heavy furniture covered with cloth in the darkness.
Harry was taking the lead, of course, whilst Granger scuttled along behind him
and cast detection spells. �I did not expect them to defeat the gargoyles so
easily. However�� Daphne moved her wand sideways and whispered a spell.

�� Draco
tightened his hands inside the wire, and said nothing. Because she wanted a
reaction from him so much, he would not give her one. And that might occupy her
more with trying to get a rise out of him than with hurting Harry.

*

�� Harry heard
the rattling a few steps past the door, at the same moment as Hermione called
out sharply, �Harry!�

�� But both
warnings were too late; the manticore had already sprung and jabbed its
scorpion-like tail into Harry�s shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of the
poison flowing into his veins.

�� Gritting
his teeth, Harry turned to deal with the latest threat. He had to remember this
was just another obstacle on the path to Draco, to be dealt with and thrown out
of the way accordingly.

�� Ignore the pain. Draco�s the important
thing.

�� The manticore roared at him and
reached out with one paw as if to rip his face off.

�� Harry attacked.

*

�� angelmuziq: I really can�t say what
happens yet.

�� Lilith: Thanks for reviewing!

�� LadyJen: Thank you! And Hermione had
the same idea as you did; Harry probably would have just left that wound there.
;)

�� Mangacat: Harry is very lucky that
Daphne has no idea he can eat magic. If he had told Draco about that, she would
know, and she might still manage to come up with something that works against
it. Of course, Harry doesn�t really want
to eat her magic unless he has no
other choice.

�� Graballz: Thanks! I�m afraid the
flashbacks as to what Daphne did to Draco will be limited in this story,
because I need to keep the rating I�ve assigned it on other sites. But I
believe the ending of the story will satisfy you.

�� Yume111: The potion does not make
Harry supernaturally prescient; it simply removes the helplessness to protect
Draco that he hates. Because Harry has concentrated on protecting Draco through
magic, that is what it strengthens.

�� Cordelia will try to strike back,
but the Vow she swore might make it difficult.

�� When Draco dealt with Daphne, he
never let her have as much power over him as she now has. Part of Draco�s
predicament is his own fault, coming from emotions that he kept in check last
time.

�� SP77: I actually write chapters as I
go, and I think the ending will be satisfying!
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An Alchemical Discontent

Chapter Eighteen�Against the Barriers