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Easy as Falling	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31246 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Eighteen--United

            "I half-expected you to throw me out."

            Harry snorted and sipped from his cup of water. He didn't feel like anything stronger right now. As if sensing that desire, or maybe in mutual agreement that he shouldn't have a drink, the house-elf had brought him this beautiful silver goblet already full to the brim with a small, silent bow.

            "I thought about it," he said, turning to Malfoy, who sat with his legs folded up beneath him on a cushioned stool. Harry had Transfigured the stool for him with nothing more than a wave of his hand. Performing complex magic inside Hogwarts got easier all the time. "You were making me talk about things I didn't want to talk about."

            Malfoy turned his head to the side and studied Harry with one eye from beneath his fall of silky hair. Harry grimaced. He shouldn't be noticing things like that about his hair, but it seemed useless to try and stop it.

            "I didn't make you talk about it," Malfoy corrected, with a little sniff and a shake of his head that caused Harry to lick his lips. He promptly soothed his throat with more water. "You know I didn't. You could have thrown me out or commanded me to shut my mouth, and I wouldn't have had any choice."

            "But I didn't feel like I could," Harry said. "Why is that? I'm the more powerful wizard here, but it seems I can't get my own way, not around you and not around Briseis."

            Malfoy laughed at him. "Haven't you learned anything yet, Potter? We were both Slytherins, and you weren't. That's automatically enough to shift the balance of power to us in any situation that involves politics."

            Harry rolled his eyes. "I was watching your face when I told you about my childhood, you know. You were surprised at the amount of political awareness I showed." He winced a bit as he remembered that he hadn't had a chance to display the same amount of knowledge to Briseis. He had surprised her and taken her off-guard, and then insulted her.

            "You know more than I would have expected, that's for sure," Malfoy said, and looked up to smile at him fully. Harry definitely needed that water now. "That will be an asset as we plan our strategies. But you didn't know enough to realize that talking about your childhood and your feelings with someone specific would help you."

            Harry's eyes briefly saw the inside of his skull as he rolled them. "You helped me," he said. "Thank you. I appreciate it." Malfoy's smile deepened, and Harry cleared his throat and put his cup of water down beside him. "In the meantime, we should talk about other things. I know someone in the Ministry sent those photos. It's the only logical conclusion. They got photos of the house that the Dursleys don't live in anymore. That I don't live in anymore. At the least, those photos have to be six or seven years old, and probably more than that."

            Malfoy just nodded as though that made sense, and then said, "Do you think it was someone who saved them to use as political ammunition against you? Or someone who stumbled across them unexpectedly?"

            Harry shook his head. "I have no idea. Could be either." He bit his lip, hesitating, but Malfoy leaned forwards, and his eyes practically pulled the confession out of Harry. Harry had no idea how he did that. "I hope it was someone who stumbled across them. Or--well, maybe I shouldn't hope that. But if it was the same person who first took the photos or arranged for them to be taken, it means that someone in the Ministry knew I was abused for at least a decade, and did nothing about it."

            Malfoy simply inclined his head. "There might be a way that you can use to find out," he said.

            "I can?" Harry cocked his head. He had assumed, without thinking about it, that those greater political sensibilities and contacts Malfoy had been bragging about and hinting at would be used to discover the answer to this particular puzzle. "You aren't going to have Rosenthal search the Ministry?"

            Malfoy stood up and crossed the distance between his stool and Harry's chair. Harry wouldn't rise and reveal his nervousness that way. He let his hands rest on the padded arms and twisted his head to the side, echoing the trick Malfoy had used on him.

            That had the pleasing effect of making Malfoy pause and swallow before he touched Harry, at least. Although since his hands slid like water down Harry's shoulders and ended up in the middle of his chest, with him staring at Harry from a few centimeters away, Harry decided that it counted as a qualified triumph. "You can do it," Malfoy whispered. "Because you have the power."

            "A ritual?" Harry asked. Those were the only things he knew of that depended on sheer magical strength. Yes, rituals often needed special times of the year and artifacts, as well, but you had to have the power to take advantage of the time and raise the potential of the artifacts.

            "Yes," Malfoy said, his voice all but muffled against Harry's temple. He really likes to turn his head, Harry thought muzzily, and kept still. Yes, he could follow, but that would press his lips to Malfoy's. Not the time for this, when they were trying to plan. "A ritual that can be conducted on the full of the moon, with the burning of something an enemy has touched, to reveal the face of that enemy. The moon will be full in four days, and, oh, look." He reached into a pocket and delicately drew out two of the glossy photos that he had showed Harry through the fireplace. "We just happen to have originals, not only the copies of the photos that were made for the papers."

            Harry had to laugh as he took the pictures. They were the ones of the cupboard door and the locks on his bedroom. "Do you think there's any way our enemy could have anticipated this? Got someone else to touch the pictures, perhaps?"

            Malfoy shrugged. "That would depend on him not only knowing about the ritual, but anticipating that we would, knowing that you have the power to conduct it, and believing we have the level of trust between us to share our plans and for me to tell you about this." He drew back, his eyes brilliant. "You said, our enemy."

            "Isn't he?" Harry lifted his chin. Malfoy was far enough away now not to make that awkward. "Since he sent the pictures to you, tried to involve you in this, I think he's your enemy as well as mine."

            "But you spoke of us together." Malfoy's voice was low, his hand soft as he stroked the side of Harry's face, just beneath his ear. "I'm startled and pleased, that's all, Harry. Give me a moment to enjoy it."

            Harry had to smile in spite of himself. He held still and let Malfoy touch him. He only reciprocated with a quick touch to Malfoy's hand. He didn't want Malfoy to think he was ungrateful, but he did think that they had more important things to talk about right now.

            "Besides," Malfoy said, seizing the chance to continue speaking sooner than Harry could, "even if the face revealed is that of an underling who touched the photographs, then we could still find him and figure out where the chain of influence leads, from him to the person who actually ordered the photos sent."

            Harry nodded. He was no good at figuring out chains like that; time and again, Ron had told him that Harry had insulted someone who mattered a lot, or had relatives who mattered a lot, and Harry hadn't known. "That'll be a task for you."

            "Hmm," hummed Malfoy, stroking the skin beneath his ear again. "Just as the ritual is for you. See how nice working together can be?"

            Harry laughed in spite of himself. Malfoy smiled at him and finally stepped back enough to go back to his own chair. Harry watched the way he moved, and then shook his head a little. A few days ago, he would have said that he was glad Malfoy was graceful because it meant he was more likely to handle himself in a duel and require less of Harry's protection. Now, he didn't feel like lying to himself.

            It was still an open question how far the personal aspect of their alliance should go, and whether Briseis or Rosenthal were going to like it. But Harry decided that he could tackle one thing at a time, and still have them count.

            "Teach me how to conduct the ritual," he said.

*

            "You look magnificent, and you know it, Minister Malfoy."

            Draco turned away from the mirror with a languid smirk and turned it into a smile as he looked at Rosenthal. "Weren't you the one who told me not to refer to myself with that title yet?" he asked, as he opened the door of the room he'd used to preen and stepped out into the corridor that led to the grand dining room where he was having his dinner party for a hundred of his closest allies and enemies. "Never anticipate victory before it comes, you said."

            "I spoke it so that you would cease your preening and follow me." Rosenthal walked in front of him, her head turned back only a little so that she could keep him under observation from one bright eye. "Is Potter going to be here?"

            Draco shook his head. "He's busy tonight."

            Specifically, with the ritual that Draco had told him about. The full moon gleamed through the Manor's windows as Draco passed after Rosenthal. He smiled at it. He had planned this party several weeks ago, wanting to show his guests the Manor gardens by moonlight, but it made a convenient distraction for anyone who might want to choose between keeping an eye on him and Harry at the same time.

            "With something that will help us instead of put us at a disadvantage, I hope," Rosenthal said, turning around at the great white door that blocked entrance into the dining room and staring at him.

            Draco smiled at her. "Yes. A ritual that only he has the power to perform."

            Rosenthal hesitated. "The one you had me look up two months ago?" Her fingers curled into her palms.

            Draco shook his head and put one hand on her arm, only now aware of how far he had pushed her, if she could think that. "No. This is one that I already knew about, and found in books in the Manor library. The time to use the ritual that you looked up for me hasn't come yet. It might not ever do so."

            Rosenthal stood there in silence for a little while, looking straight at him. Draco just stood there and looked in return, because he knew nothing about what was going through her head. He had given her the task of looking up the ritual because it could be used defensively as well as offensively and because it might let him win the campaign, which after all was what he'd hired her to help him with.

            But it had also been a test of her loyalty, in a way. If Rosenthal was that committed to him, then she would show it. If she wasn't, she would balk at the thought of using such Dark magic.

            Rosenthal broke his gaze and gave a slight grimace as she arranged herself in front of him in the stance of a herald. "It seems the wizarding world as a whole is becoming Darker," she muttered.

            Draco shrugged with his palms flat. "With a new Dark Lord in Hogwarts, what can you expect?"

            Rosenthal closed her eyes and took a deep breath before pushing the door open, her own arms extended as she cried, "Ministerial candidate Mr. Draco Malfoy!"

            Draco stepped into the shining room with a shining smile. The light came back to him from the innumerable branches of candles that he could see gleaming along the walls, and the torches that shone and flamed among them, and the enormous chandelier that the dining room hadn't originally sported but which Draco had declared was indispensable to his plans tonight and had set Rosenthal to finding.

            The room was filled with dazzling light, and subtle spells and even subtler mirrors, set into the white marble walls, funneled the brilliance to a cone focused on the door, where Draco stood. Draco placed one hand behind his head and rolled it a little, knowing that he would spark and sparkle in the eyes of most of those there. Many of them wouldn't even realize that they were seeing more than the light provided by their own minds.

            Draco's robes picked up and refracted the light back from their gold trimmings, and Draco made his way down the wide, shallow stairs, towards the clump of reporters who waited for him. He would speak with them first, and then make the round of the room, flirting and joking and making courteous, cold remarks, as required.

            He would do everything he could to get himself elected as Minister. That hadn't changed, despite Rosenthal's private opinion of his goals. Draco still wanted this, now that he had the challenge that had been missing. Maintaining his position as elected Minister and yet ally of the new Dark Lord would be a balancing act that only one bad slip could mar forever.

            The days between the publication of the photos and now had passed with no more revelations about who their enemy might be. But Draco didn't worry. Harry's ritual would take care of it, and he might hear something tonight.

            "...shocking photographs..."

            It appeared he had found the first group he should join. Draco turned towards them with a smile that he knew was more enchanting than the light playing around the room, and said, "Champagne, ladies?"

*

            Harry stood up and glared at the circle trampled flat into the grass. Hogwarts had done it herself, eager to help him, but Harry had had to correct the position of some of the blades. If the circle wasn't perfectly flat and clear of all interference, then Harry knew that some of the power would leak away and refuse to stay inside.

            He tilted his head back and studied the sky. The instructions Malfoy had left him said the ritual had to be performed halfway between moonrise and moonset, the moon's "noon." Harry had used his magic to create the illusion of a shining golden star at the right position in the heavens. The moon would cross it in a few minutes.

            Harry sighed and closed his eyes. The rest of the preparations wouldn't take long. It was the nature of what Malfoy was asking him to do that made him hesitate.

            Harry had used Dark magic, or at least Light magic for Dark purposes. But this ritual was purely and simply made of blood and fire. He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, then laughed breathlessly when a breeze tried to smooth it out for him. Over the last few days, his bond with Hogwarts seemed to be increasing. The air and the light--and the grass--shifted around him now, orienting on him, seeming to plead with him to pay more attention to them. Harry found he didn't want to disappoint them.

            "Well, let's get on with it," he said, as the moon edged closer to the right moment. He stepped into the circle and turned to hold up one hand. He sharpened the air into an invisible knife, and sliced open his right palm, continuing the mark around onto the back of his hand, ending up at the beginning, a complete circle of its own.

            The blood hissed as it came out. Harry stared. There was a gold sparkle on it, like the star he had created to tell him of the correct moment. He wondered if it came from his own power or his bond with Hogwarts, or the ritual itself. He wondered what it would do to the ritual.

            It was a bit late to worry about that now. Harry took a deep breath and squeezed down on his hand, and especially the wound, with more of his magic, making the blood spray out in a high, leaping fountain. It fell on the circle, and immediately began to run along it, as if the circle was a much deeper groove than Harry had made it. The golden sparkle dimmed, and then reappeared, dancing on top of the blood like flames of St. Elmo's Fire.

            Harry tilted his head back and regarded the moon. He felt the blood flow around the entire circle, meeting itself on either side, at the precise moment as the moon reached its apogee. His body shuddered with the power and the rightness of the magic, the echoes between earth and sky.

            He focused his will into a reaching lance, and whispered aloud, "The enemy who touched these." He held up the two photographs Malfoy had given him and tossed them into the air, casting an Incendio at the same time.

            The fire turned yellow at once, even though Harry had called only ordinary scarlet flames, and the golden power yearned upwards from the blood to join it. For a moment, the smoldering pictures hung in the air, connected by chains of fire. Then the chains began to whirl, and joined with rays of moonlight reaching down from above.

            Harry held his breath as the chains writhed and formed into images, stained with gold the way that faces during Floo calls were covered with green. The top one, he didn't recognize, but others began to form around it, connected with thinner and longer chains, and those led to people he did know. Secretaries in the Minister. Other Aurors. Minister Tillipop.

            The spell was showing him all the people connected to the plan to send the photographs out, with the one who had originated the plan at the top and in the middle.

            Standing in the circle, his heart beating and his world expanding around him, Harry tossed his head back and laughed. Hogwarts's breeze encircled his hair, Hogwarts's grass ruffled at his feet, and there was a murmur of savage contentment and strength at his feet.

            If this is Dark magic, Harry thought, it's not all that bad.

*

            SP777: He is! At least of Harry this way. He probably wouldn't have paid much attention to Harry the Normal Auror.

            Seiren: Thank you very much!
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Easy as Falling