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Soldier's Welcome	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25565 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 17
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Chapter
Eighteen�Between Two Fears

�� The
memories were eating Harry alive.

�� This time,
the sensation was much more intense than it was when he relived his memories
thanks to his fits. This time, he could feel the sensations as if they were
happening again: the hunger gnawing at his belly when the Dursleys shut him in
the cupboard under the stairs, the urge to be sick as he stared down at
Cedric�s motionless body, the chill wind blowing on him as Sirius fell through
the veil.

�� But mingled
with it was the knowledge that all these things had already happened and so he
couldn�t prevent them. He was helpless.

�� He tried
anyway, of course. He darted through the veil after Sirius, and grabbed
Cedric�s body to drag it out of the way, and turned to open the door of the
cupboard so that his younger self could escape.

�� It was all
useless. His hands passed through the images as they would have passed through
Pensieve memories. He yelled for help, but his voice died in a heap of muffled
echoes. He pounded on the door, and it stood up to him, dully solid. He found
himself back on the other side of the veil as soon as he had gone through, with
the streamers flapping mockingly at him and the stream of cold and restless
voices whispering.

�� The present
mingled with the past, bleeding into one another, and Harry didn�t know whether
the more intense grief came from looking backwards or living it again. He
didn�t think he could tell.

�� Already his
thoughts were running like paint that someone had thrown water on. The moment
when he stood before the veil and glanced over his shoulder, he saw Remus
standing there and didn�t think it strange. It took him time to remember that
Remus had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. And when he walked through the Great
Hall, filled with motionless bodies, and found Remus and Tonks there, he had to
struggle to remember poor orphaned Teddy.

�� Teddy?

�� The name
pivoted through his head, attached itself briefly to Ted Tonks, and flowed on.

�� His
childhood was mud when Harry turned to look back at it. There was a child in a
cupboard, and he thought briefly that that wasn�t normal, but he really didn�t
know. Maybe, where he came from, it was perfectly normal for people to shut
children up in cupboards and not give them food and pretend they didn�t exist.

�� Where did
he come from?

�� Somewhere
strange, where beams of green light cut the sky and stabbed into the darkness
through flapping curtains. Curtains that could kill people. Harry thought he had
seen at least one person die that way. But someone else had held him back when
he tried to follow. Someone who was large with a sad purple face, named Uncle
Vernon, Harry thought. Or maybe Uncle Curtain.

�� He came
from somewhere that used sticks as weapons. But he had left that place now, and
he didn�t think he would need the stick he had taken from it anymore. Harry
began to fumble absentmindedly for the stick, thinking it would be a good idea
to break the pieces apart so that no one could use them as a weapon again.

�� Grief struck
him as he watched a flash of green light stab past him and strike a woman with
red hair and green eyes. She fell over, but she didn�t look real, Harry
thought. Her scream was the real thing, stabbing through the darkness like the
green light had and making him catch his breath and choke as the tears started
to his eyes.

�� He was
hollow, empty, except for that single flowing emotion, the sorrow that drowned
him and made his mind flicker with odd-colored lights. He closed his eyes and
saw a river behind his eyelids, strong and silver, dancing with red and green.
The stream started to slow to a trickle, and Harry was relieved. That had to be
the river of his grief. If it stopped flowing, then he had nothing to worry about.

�� Then
someone called his name.

*

�� Draco had
stepped forwards with the vague idea that he should drag Potter away from the
red and black magic. He had drawn his wand, and he meant to cast a spell that
would dissipate it at once.

�� Never mind
that he hadn�t the slightest idea how to get rid of mingled despair and killing
spells.

�� But then a
streamer of red and black magic lashed at him and dragged him behind the flower
that had consumed Potter, into what seemed to be the same space. Draco tensed,
but nothing touched his mind. The streamer, once it had dragged him in, fell
away from him as if the murderous magic had suddenly lost interest.

�� No, not
lost interest, Draco realized when he looked up and saw Potter crouched on the
floor, his eyes shut, his fingers crooked in front of him into strange and
awkward shapes, his mouth open and held there as sharp screams emerged from it.
It simply had another victim right now. It would probably turn on Draco when it
had disposed of Potter.

�� Draco edged
closer, wand at the ready, wondering what was happening to Potter. He had no
blood trickling down his body, but he screamed as loudly as if someone had
mortally wounded him. And something was strange,
Draco thought. Something didn�t feel right as he approached Potter.

�� He had no
idea what it was until he realized he had braced himself unconsciously against
the welcoming pull of the compatible magic, and that it hadn�t touched him.

�� Draco swore
and chanted a swift incantation that would allow him to see the ambient magic
in the area. Most of the time, this was a useless spell as long as one was
still in the wizarding world, but Draco was counting on the red and black magic
to block out most of the spells that could influence his result so that he
could see if what he suspected was true.

�� Sure
enough, the red and black flower flared with dazzling silver light, but nothing
intruded from beyond that. Draco used one hand to block the glow and studied
Potter grimly.

�� He looked
dull and empty. His magic was flowing out of him, coiling in the air next to
him like a stream of visible wind. As Draco watched, it turned and proceeded
towards the edge of the red and black flower. Merlin knew what would happen
when Potter�s magic touched the entwined spells.

�� And Draco
had no idea what he could do to stop it. According to everything he knew, one
wizard couldn�t affect another wizard�s magic.

�� On the
other hand, according to everything he knew, Potter shouldn�t have been able to
pull on the compatible magic between them and drain Draco like he had when the
�Death Eaters� were attacking. And there was supposed to be no spell that could
work someone�s magic loose of their body like this anyway.

�� Draco
shouted, �Potter!� at the same time
as he aimed his wand at the floating magic and cast a barrier spell. The
flowing stream hit the barrier, a variation of the Shield Charm, and writhed
around it in confusion. Draco doubted it would take long to find a way over or
through.

�� He really
needed Potter�s help for this.

�� Potter!� he shouted again, and this time
he thought he saw Potter stir. Hoping it would be enough to awaken him from his
trance, he constructed another barrier behind the floating magic and moved
around to attack it from the side.

*

�� Harry tried
to answer the call. He really did. But it felt as though someone had tangled
ropes made of memory around his feet, and when he tried to decide who might be
calling him and why he recognized the voice, he pitched headlong into another
bout of grief. This was of the way Fred had fallen over, the grin frozen
forever on his face, the rocks of the castle bounding about him.

�� My fault, Harry thought, his teeth
chattering in the wake of the wind of regret that swept through him. If I had been a little stronger, a little
faster, a little more alert, I could have knocked him out of the way and made
sure he survived, or at least made sure that I died in his place.

�� The image
wavered, and instead of seeing Ginny looking at Fred with tears in her eyes in
the Great Hall, he was seeing her watch him with a sad, soft smile as she
explained that she couldn�t deal with his nightmares.

�� I need a
hero, Harry,� she whispered in a voice that still twined through his dreams. �I
need someone who came through the war more or less unscathed, because, you see,
I have scars of my own. I need someone I can talk to about Fred, who will
understand instead of mourning with me.� She paused, watching him with vague
regret, and then added, �You�re just not strong enough. I wonder if you ever
were.�

�� Harry
shuddered and turned away in revulsion from her, hearing the voice call his
name again.

�� That was
when he realized that some of his memories were in the proper order once more,
and he could attach names to faces. He lifted his head, his hand snapping down
to his wand�

�� Which felt
rough and useless against his palm, without that tingling spark he�d always got
from it.

�� Harry
cursed and dragged it frantically out of his pocket. Was it broken again? But
no, it was strong and firm. He swished it, shouting, �Lumos!�, but no light shone from the end.

�� He felt
different, come to that. He was weaker and heavier on his feet. He stretched
his arms above his head and tried to feel the magic humming through him, but he
couldn�t.

�� The wand didn�t lose its power. It�s me.

�� Potter!� the voice cried again, and
Harry knew this time that it was Draco, and that he sounded desperate.

�� Sheer
determination sent Harry surging out of his mind. He had been useless to Ginny,
not strong enough to support or save her, but it would be different with Draco,
because it had to be, because he willed it so.

�� He opened
his eyes and staggered to his feet. For a moment, he was disoriented�it seemed
that everything he had been through, including the spell he had tried to cast
with his wand, had taken place entirely in his head�but then he managed to
focus on the situation in front of him, which was the important thing right
now.

�� Drooping
strands of red and black surrounded a small area of stone floor. Beyond the
shifting tendrils, Harry could see nothing. They seemed to hang down from some
central point, like the tentacles of an octopus. In front of him, Draco was
raising Shield Charm after Shield Charm in front of a stream of floating blue
particles, which kept trying to dart past him to reach the red and black
strands.

�� Harry found
his eyes fixed on the blue particles as if someone had nailed them there. Each
grain shone with an individual gleam of light, and he was certain that this was
his magic, translated somehow into a physical form.

�� He had to
get it back inside him.

�� Somehow.
Harry had to admit that nothing he had learned in either Hogwarts or Auror
training had prepared him for his magic escaping.

�� He sprang
up next to Draco and laid his hand on his shoulder. Draco leaned back without a
sign of surprise and snapped, �We have to corral your magic back in your limbs.
Do you have any idea about how to do that?�

�� Let me
think,� Harry said, staring at the blue magic and fighting the sinking
sensation that Hermione, who had read so many books, would know what to do
better than he did. A doubting voice whispered in his head that he had no idea
what to do about anything, and that
he had always let Hermione handle too much for his own good. The voice sounded
like Ginny�s.

�� We need to
do something now, Potter.� Draco�s
voice was a hiss as he stepped back towards Harry, his wand weaving
frantically. His Shield Charms fractured almost the moment he raised them now,
Harry saw. The magic seemed to learn what to do and become more bloody-minded
the longer it was out of Harry�s body.

�� Harry
licked his lips. He had no idea how he could help, since his wand was useless
now. It was Draco who would have to�

�� Yes, exactly. It�s Draco who has to.

�� Harry
experienced a fleeting moment of being grateful that it was him the red and
black magic had attacked. He trusted Draco more than Draco trusted him, as
could be clearly seen by the fact that Draco couldn�t call him by his first
name yet. They had a chance of surviving.

�� Harry leaned
forwards until his lips were next to Draco�s ear. �You need to direct the magic
back into my body,� he whispered. �I don�t have a connection to it now. It�s
beyond my reach. But I think you can pull on it the same way that I pulled on
your magic the last time we faced the Death Eaters.�

�� Draco
quivered as though Harry had touched a lightning bolt to him. He took a deep
breath, but his voice was still uncertain when it emerged. �How can I? I mean,
I�d need your permission, and you can�t give it if your magic is free.�

�� I took
from you without permission last time,� Harry murmured. His eyes were locked on
his magic, trapped temporarily by the glass box Draco had conjured but already
managing to work a tiny crack in the side as it searched for freedom. �I think
you can take from me and send the magic where it belongs without permission.�

�� Draco
shuddered once. �I don�t�I don�t know how��

�� I just wanted badly,� Harry snapped. His magic
was out of the glass box now and heading towards the red and black magic as
fast as a snake. �The only thing you have to do differently is focus on the
magic in front of you instead of focusing on me. For God�s sake, Malfoy, hurry!� He clamped down with his hand,
hoping that would inspire Draco.

*

�� Draco
wanted to snap that he didn�t know what to do, that he thought this was stupid,
and that Potter�s plan didn�t have a chance of working�

�� And then he
realized he would sound exactly as Potter did when he said he had to think.
There wasn�t time, and Draco didn�t have any ideas. He had to adopt Potter�s
stupid plan and hope for the best.

�� He reached
back to clasp Potter�s hand where it rested on his shoulder, having the vague
idea that it might be easier if they were touching, or at any rate if he was
returning the touch. Then he made himself look at those floating particles, no
matter how strange it was to think of them as the magic he had felt pulsing and
entwining with his, and silently commanded them: Return to me. Return to us. Return to him.

�� The
particles wavered towards him as if someone had pushed them from the side, but
then continued on their straight path. Draco gritted his teeth. Want it badly, Potter said. As much as I
hate to take his advice�

�� Come
here,� he hissed.

�� The magic
bent this time, and flowed around him, and pierced his body. Draco cried out.
Briefly his skin felt stretched around the amount of power it was trying to
contain. It seemed that he might burst like DeChancie.

�� Then Potter
leaned towards him and grabbed both his hands at once, roughly spinning Draco
until they faced each other.

�� Their hands
turned blue and golden before Draco could say anything, and he choked as
magic�rather like a mixture of sand and honey�filled his throat. It came
bubbling up his throat, and Draco opened his mouth, hoping that Potter was
close enough to catch it. He didn�t fancy it dripping on the floor. God knew
what he would have to do next�drink it, lap it up, roll it into a ball�

�� Potter
leaned close and placed his mouth over Draco�s, making a noise like a house-elf
confronted with a mountain of dust.

�� Draco
froze, dreading to feel the touch of Potter�s tongue, dreading this business
altogether, but Potter simply made the elf noise again, and this time Draco
realized that he was sucking in air. The magic went with the air, flowing into
Potter�s mouth and making his body stiffen as though someone had punched him in
the solar plexus.

�� The next
instant, he had released Draco�s hands and was doubled over, uttering muffled
cries, and Draco was left to lick his lips and wonder why they were still
tingling so hard, when Potter hadn�t touched them.

�� Much.

*

�� Harry
hadn�t realized before how much magic affected him. He had never been without
it, even as a child when he had lived with the Dursleys and believed there was
nothing special about him at all.

�� It was like
the ability to move�something he never noticed until he was in a Body-Bind.
There was warmth filling the empty places in his chest, now, and making his
heart beat more strongly than it would have done otherwise, and making his lips
tingle and smart as though he�d split them.

�� Or maybe
they smarted for a different reason, Harry thought as he straightened back up
and saw Draco watching him with dazed eyes, touching his mouth lightly.

�� There was no
time to think about that. The faint light around them vanished and the space
seemed to grow smaller, and Harry knew the black and red flower had contracted,
shutting them in. Angry bubbling noises worked their way out from the tendrils.
It was going to work to drain the magic from him again, and maybe Draco, as
well.

�� Already the
memories flickered along the edges of his mind. Harry could feel grief pushing
at his eyes, forcing tears from them.

�� We have to
act against the magic,� he said, his teeth gritted so that he wouldn�t
surrender. Draco didn�t sound as if he were surrendering. Harry should be
strong enough to overcome what the magic was trying to do to him, too. �Black
is despair. Red�is anger. You told me that.� He had to swallow back more tears
as they streaked down his face. �How can we fight them?�

�� We can try
to do what we did before,� Draco offered.

�� Harry shook
his head. �I don�t think that will work. I�m already�overwhelmed�by this.� He
blinked furiously and leaned against Draco, trying to use the solid weight of
the other man�s body to detach himself from the floating world that the magic
was trying to escort him into. �I can�t�I don�t think I can keep on my feet
long enough to concentrate and give you the compatible magic that you need.�

�� What exactly
happens to you when the magic touches you?� If Draco was irritated or angry,
Harry couldn�t tell. He was speaking briskly, yes, and probably keeping a wary
eye on the magic, but he also sounded as if he was trying to solve an
interesting problem that Dearborn had set them.

�� It makes
me relive my worst memories as if they were happening around me again, but also
the knowledge that they�re in the past and I can�t do anything to change them,�
Harry said. Sirius. The name lay on
his tongue, and he had to gag hard before he could be sure that it wouldn�t be
the word he spoke next. �All the grief comes rushing out on me, and��

�� Grief magic.� Draco�s voice hissed, and
Harry turned his head blindly towards the sound, focusing on the fact that
almost none of his worst memories included Draco to anchor him in the present.
The memory of Dumbledore�s death on the Tower promptly tried to ambush him, but
Harry gritted his teeth and held it off and away. �Of course. A magic that
combines despair and anger would be likely to result in grief. And since you
have so much grief, it affects you more powerfully.� Draco�s voice grew muffled
on the last words, as if he didn�t like saying them, but in the end he took a
deep breath and held his wand up, from the movement next to Harry. �Lean
against me, Potter. Pass control of your magic back to me.�

�� Harry bowed
his head and muttered, �I give you permission.� It was all that he seemed
capable of, when his mind was full of Dumbledore�s white face and the hatred
that had twisted Snape�s expression when he cast the Killing Curse.

*

�� Draco shook
his head. He should have seen this before. The magic didn�t pull up memories of
anger from Potter, which indicated that its nature was more complex than a
simple mixture of spells. Grief involved both despair and anger at different
stages.

�� He reached
out and focused on blasting the magic to nothingness. His desire grew as he
felt Potter leaning more weakly against him, and he waited until he thought
Potter was about to slide to the floor and his own longing couldn�t grow any
more. Then he bellowed, �Reducto!�

�� The
Blasting Curse left him powered by both his magic and Potter�s, and Draco felt
as though someone had turned him inside out and flayed the skin from his body.
He wanted to collapse, but now Potter was holding him up as much as Draco held
him. Draco leaned his head down, and panted, and watched as the bright block of
energy flew towards the red and black magic.

�� The
tendrils frayed where the Blasting Curse touched them, and then began to
unravel and rip apart. Draco blinked when he saw the Blasting Curse double back
and attack again. He had wanted that to happen, but since it wasn�t in the
original nature of the spell, he hadn�t been sure if it actually would.

�� The magic
fought harder than it had when he and Potter confronted it in Draco�s rooms,
but in the end it didn�t succeed any better. The air outlined by the light, the
only visible effect of the Blasting Curse, charged back and forth, chasing and
then rending apart the last remnants of that terrible flower that had swallowed
Potter. Soon enough, Draco could step forwards, dragging Potter with him, and
find himself out in the light of the interrogation room again, next to
DeChancie�s forsaken skin.

�� Potter
shuddered and tried to stand upright. Draco held him in place without turning
his attention from the battle. �You won�t be able to stand, if the way I felt
after you drained me is any indication,� he murmured.

�� You don�t
need to take care of me.� Potter sounded so like a child trying to convince his
mother that he should stay up past his bedtime that Draco smiled.

�� And then he
remembered that Potter didn�t have a mother, and the way Potter had trusted him
to use his magic.

�� And the way
Potter had taken his magic back when Draco drew it into himself.

�� He stopped
smiling and whispered, �It�s my privilege to take care of you.�

�� The last of
the red and black magic finally disappeared. Draco turned around, checking out
of habit to be sure that both he and Potter had their wands, and considered the
skin on the floor. Then he shook his head.

�� There was
no hiding this. The Aurors could count, and they would notice that a prisoner
was missing. And that no one had come to help them meant that the grief magic
hadn�t triggered the Dark Arts wards on the Ministry. This was something
entirely new, something they would have to confess to the instructors and ask
for their help on.

�� Draco
smiled grimly. He had a few questions of his own to ask, too, starting with the
scantiness of the protections on the �Death Eaters.�

�� He turned
to the door out of the room, and paused. Scored on the wall in enormous black
and scarlet letters was the word NIHIL.

�� And beside
it, another. FIN.

�� Draco
raised an eyebrow. He calls himself after
nothingness and he proposes an ending. At least we know that much about him.

�� He kept the
Latin firmly in mind as he opened the door, and began arranging the battle in
his mind as he dragged Potter down the corridor, making up a report of it that
the instructors could listen to.

�� It was
easier to think about that than about the way Potter had trusted him, or the
way his lips ached.

*

�� hieisdragoness18:
Mildly?

�� polka dot: Harry
and Draco don�t know themselves yet.

�� MiraMira:
Well, Draco was partially in shock, so I hope that explains why he just kind of
stood there!

�� js: Thank
you!

�� Dragons
Breath: Thanks! Their working together so easily is one of the reasons they�ve
both decided to accept being partners.

�� Alliandre:
Thank you!

�� SP777: That
image was not that horrifying!

�� I plan for
Harry to grow up both mentally and emotionally. But the first one before the
second.

�� Well, there
was sort of a duel in this chapter.

�� Fine,
thanks. Busy, but it often is.

�� MewMew2:
Thanks! I hope that unfortunate picture didn�t diminish the story for you.

�� Mr Spears:
But that was a good place to end the chapter!

�� callistianstar:
Thank you! There is more to Nihil than that, but so far, the clues to that are
admittedly few.
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