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Nova Cupiditas	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37321 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

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Chapter
Nineteen�Indivisible

�� Harry sat
down that evening to make a list.

�� Hermione
and Ron were asleep in the guest rooms down the corridor, though not the one
that Draco had used. Harry had promised himself that he would pitch a fit if
they asked, but they were wise enough not to. Or maybe they hadn�t wanted to
sleep in the same place that someone they despised had.

�� Harry had
wanted them to go home, but Hermione had said they weren�t leaving him, and Ron
had nodded firmly. Because Harry had a job to do, and didn�t want to waste time
arguing, he had nodded and accepted their decision. At least they didn�t try to
argue with him over anything else, once Draco had left.

�� Ron had
even gripped his shoulder tightly, once, and fumbled awkwardly for words. Harry
had smiled at him sadly, and in the end Ron had nodded and gone to bed, though
he kept glancing at Harry as he did so.

�� Then Harry
pulled out ink and parchment, and began to make a list of the things that he
needed to do to make sure that Draco wouldn�t get accused of murder, rape, or
something even worse, including all of Draco�s crimes.

�� Draco had
murdered eight people in the meadow. He had tortured two. He had attacked Ron
with a Dark spell, and he had cursed Lucius. Harry didn�t think Lucius would
bring that attack to the attention of the authorities, given that it was
revenge for his murder attempt on Harry, but the others would almost inevitably
show up. There was simply no way to hide the shedding of that much blood for
long.

�� Harry
paused when he�d finished, wondering if he had to include his own near-rapes in
that list. Then his hands closed down into fists despite himself, and he shook
his head firmly.

�� No. He
wasn�t�there was no way that he would let that happen.
He would lie, coldly, to the Minister�s face before he would allow Draco to be
arrested for something that wasn�t his fault, but the fault of that bloody
curse. And Harry had resisted successfully. If he had actually been raped, he
might feel�different. But he didn�t. He had to deal with reality, instead of
imaginings of what had happened.

�� And that
included imaginings about Draco, he told himself, when he found his mind
wandering in that direction again. How cold Draco had looked when he left. The way he held himself.

�� It had to be this way. They were separate
people again, and this way, Draco would be able to decide for himself what he
wanted to happen. Healing, in Harry�s company or out of it.
Or simply forgetting about the curse, putting the past behind
him, and moving on with his marriage to some pure-blood witch.

�� Especially
considering the method that Harry intended to use to solve this list of
problems, it was for the best if Draco kept his distance.

�� Harry sat
back and regarded the list for a moment. Then he smiled.

*

�� Draco had
expected to sleep like the dead that night. But he didn�t. He simply leaned
against his pillow, staring into space, and thought again and again of the
reception he had met with when he came home. It wasn�t at all what he expected.

�� He had
stepped into the Manor and listened to the door closing behind him, thinking it
was like the door of a tomb. Then he told himself not to be stupid and walked
forwards. He was alive, with sacrifices paying for that, and he wouldn�t
belittle them with his morbid thoughts.

�� Mother?�
he called. �Father?�

�� A rustle
from the side startled him, and he turned in time to see his mother coming out
of the library, a large book balanced on her arms. She paused, staring at Draco
with eyes that widened and went on widening until Draco thought she would
faint. Then she turned and called sharply for Lucius, not listening to Draco�s
stuttering attempt at an explanation.

�� Draco�s
father limped out of the library. He was carrying a huge book, too, and he used
his cane as if he needed it more than usual. He paused when he saw Draco,
nostrils flaring, and laid the book down on a mahogany table that stood next to
the door.

�� So,� he
said. �You have returned home to die?� Then he seemed to study Draco�s eyes and
the outlines of his face. �No, I don�t think so. You would suffer at being
apart from Potter too long.�

�� Draco
licked his lips. He could see Harry�s face in a flash as vivid as a bolt of
lightning when his father spoke the name �Potter,� and
with it came the hunger. But it was so diminished, compared to the way he had
felt before, that he could ignore it without trouble. �He cured me, Father. He
managed to cut the spell in half, and what is left can�t control my life
anymore.�

�� His mother
closed her eyes, and although she didn�t move, Draco was careful to avoid
looking at her. He knew the strength of her emotions probably embarrassed her.
Lucius leaned forwards, studying the knuckles of his hands and the way he held
his arms.

�� Then he
said, �You�re not lying.� The faintness of his voice was comparable to the way
that Narcissa had closed her eyes.

�� No.� Draco
gave him a hesitant smile. Lucius didn�t smile back, but Draco thought it was
due to his stunned astonishment rather than because he actually resented the miracle Harry had managed
to perform. �I�it�s hard to explain, but Harry�s a magical researcher. He came
up with a spell that let him see the shapes on my shoulders, and then one that
let him cut the web of the curse around me. And so, the spell is gone.�

�� Narcissa
stepped forwards to embrace him then. His father remained where he was, still
looking painfully bewildered. Draco hugged his mother and decided that if it
took time for Lucius to accept this, then that was fair. Draco hadn�t begun to
recover himself, yet, or deal with the unexpectedly doubled set of memories in
his head. He had assumed that he would forget his sensations and emotions under
the curse once he was cured.

�� Instead, it
seemed as if he could react both like himself and like the cursed persona he
had become, and remember his motivations for acting as he had, even as he
judged them harshly.

�� Narcissa
took him into the dining room�the largest dining room�and made him sit down at
one end of the grand table, while she clapped her hands and ordered the
house-elves to come back with food for him. Draco tried to say that he didn�t
need an elaborate meal, but Lucius, who had drifted in behind them, caught
Draco�s eye and shook his head sharply. Draco shut up. He understood the silent
message. Let his mother do what she needed, to make the situation normal again.
He could assert himself when his survival was less new.

�� And sure
enough, when his mother sat down across from him and gazed at him with
devouring eyes, Draco knew the advice had been good.

�� He
explained what Harry had done, as far as he understood it, while they waited
for the meal. When it came�a steaming potato soup, slices of thinly cut lamb in
a sauce that made Draco�s mouth water even though he wasn�t really hungry, a
slice of chocolate cake big enough to make his teeth rot looking at it, and a
glass of Draco�s favorite white wine�he was too busy eating to talk.

�� His parents
didn�t seem to mind that. His mother sat back in her chair and watched him as
if she was getting used to the idea that he would live. His father, who had
long since sat down, tapped his fingers against the cane and watched.

�� When Draco
swallowed the last bite of lamb, Narcissa leaned forwards and asked, �What do
we owe Potter, for saving you?�

�� Draco
blinked. It hadn�t occurred to him that she would immediately think in terms of
debts, but of course she would. He would have himself, if he was completely
normal. Pay Potter off, and they would free themselves from the heavy burden of
gratitude as well as cut a connection that could prove embarrassing in the
future.

�� I�m not
sure that he would want to be paid,� he said, stalling for time while he played
with his fork and drank his wine. Those were methods of stalling, too, but ones
that his mother was more likely to see through. �He doesn�t seem like the kind
of person who would appreciate that.�

�� Doesn�t seem?� Narcissa cast him a sharp look.
�I had thought you would know him well by now, Draco. What would he take from
us?�

�� Draco
sighed. His parents wouldn�t like this answer, but he knew it was the true one.
�Only our thanks.�

�� Lucius
shook his head briskly, making the light flash off the head of his cane and
even his eyes, as if they were made of silver. Draco had forgotten, or not
remembered, or never noticed, how cold they looked. �That is not good enough.
He has performed a miracle. That requires more than mere words.�

�� Draco
nodded to his father, but he didn�t share the conviction. He knew what lay
behind Lucius�s insistence. Cut the tie.
Don�t leave a way open for him to make a claim on us in the future.

�� He solved
it without our help,� Narcissa added softly. �Without access
to our library or the spells that he might have been able to discover there.
That makes the debt all the more pressing and urgent.�

�� I agree,� Draco
said. �But Harry won�t.�

�� Son.�

�� A single
warning from Lucius was all he would get, Draco knew. And he knew what it
meant. He had to stop calling Potter �Harry.� He had to stop speaking of him
with that regretful tone in his voice, too, or his parents might think he was
less grateful for his survival than frustrated over the fact that he could
never touch Harry again. Draco looked back at his plate and pushed around the
last scrapes of sauce, at least until a bowing house-elf appeared to take it
away.

�� He would
have to get used to that, again, he thought as he handed the plate over. Constant service. He had lived that way most of his life,
but after the days under the curse, it felt distant.

�� More than
anything else, he wished he could have time to think. To get his head in order, to understand his own emotions.
But he knew, from the imperious way that his father gestured when he rose in
addition to everything else, that he wouldn�t get that.

�� Come and
join me for a glass of wine in the library, Draco.� It was less an invitation
than an order, and Draco nodded, standing.

�� His mother
came to him first, though, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him hard
enough that it left his lips bruised. Draco touched his mouth and looked after
her in wonder when she left the room. From her hurried steps on the stairs, he
knew she was going up to her music room, where she would presumably play a
symphony in gratitude for his survival.

�� If she was that worried about me, then
perhaps she can be persuaded to understand why we can�t just shrug Harry off
and forget about him, Draco thought hopefully as he followed his father
into the library.

�� The tables
were still crowded with books that his parents had obviously been working
through, but Lucius paid no attention to them, beyond clapping his hands and
ordering the resulting house-elf to pick them up. Then he sat down on the chair
in front of Draco and studied him so keenly that Draco�s dinner curdled in his
stomach.

�� You cursed
me with an Unforgivable,� Lucius said, the first passage of swords in the duel.

�� Draco
returned the gaze calmly. He remembered doing so, and again he had a doubled
set of memories: horror and agony, triumph and joy. �You nearly killed the man
who, it turned out, saved me.�

�� Lucius
thought about that. Then he turned his hand over. �I find the offenses equal.
Can we forget about them?�

�� Draco bowed
his head, but he knew that what Lucius was asking for was essentially
impossible. He would, perhaps, forgive his father for trying to kill Harry with
one part of his brain; Lucius had been desperate to find the cure, and it was
possible that the curse would have faded once Draco no longer had someone to
focus his obsession on. With the other part of his brain, he remembered what
had happened and regretted only that Lucius had not died under his
Unforgivable.

�� But they
couldn�t ignore what had happened,
and he was mildly contemptuous of his father for thinking they could. He didn�t
say that, of course. He sat still, and sipped the new glass of wine that the
house-elf had brought him, and waited for his father to speak of the real
purpose in their coming here.

�� Lucius
finished his wine before he spoke again. The fire, newly-lit,
flickered on his face. He looked thoughtful. Draco was never sure
whether that was bad or not until he heard what Lucius had to say as a result
of his thoughts.

�� You must
know,� Lucius said, looking suddenly at Draco, �that we cannot have anyone
suspect that you committed crimes while under the curse. It would destroy your
reputation, and I want you to live a full life.�

�� What does that full life entail? Draco
thought, warned by the way his father�s words had trailed off. But he nodded.
�Potter said that we would work on that tomorrow,� he said, careful to articulate
the name he should choose.

�� Lucius�s
smile was his reward. Draco tried not to contrast it with the one he thought
Harry would have given him. �Good. Then the second step can be proceeded to. We
must distance you from this curse,
Draco. I have read about the lingering effects it has on the brain and
personality of the affected for what seems like a week.�

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes. �What do you mean, Father?� he said, careful not to sound
accusing. He would need to be careful around his father for some time now; he
could see that, simply given the direction of this part of the conversation.
�No one has ever cured Nova Cupiditas before. There is no reason to think we know
what will happen to me.�

�� Lucius
shook his head. �Forgive me. I meant spells like it, curses that are curable. They linger and create a
double set of memories, a double life. Some of the testimony of victims, and
about them, says that they were torn apart.�

�� Draco
grimaced and nodded. He could see why traveling between two opinions, two
arguments, two voices in one�s head�both the fragments of one personality, but
unable to reconcile�might drive someone mad.

�� You need a
new interest in your life,� Lucius said softly. �One that
trades on some of the same obsessions as this curse, one that you ought to have
taken up long since. You are going to marry.�

�� Draco had
just put the wineglass down, and he was glad. His hand didn�t tremble, but he
would have squeezed it to shards. He shook his head slightly. �Did your reading
really say that a
regular shag improves one�s chances of survival after a curse like this,
Father?�

�� Lucius
didn�t smile. �You do not understand, Draco,� he said, fingers flexing slowly
open and closed like the claws of a great cat. �You need a new interest because
this curse was sexual. The reading I have done say that usually the curses� cure, the cure for this obsession and double-sidedness, is
to replace the unnatural interest the curse created with one that resembles it,
but is natural. For a curse that encouraged constant talking, the recommended
cure might be a holiday with talkative friends, or a new pet. For a curse that required constant jerks of the body, taking up
Quidditch or some other physically demanding hobby. And so on.�

�� Draco
lowered his eyes and nodded as though he were seriously considering his
father�s solution. In fact, he had rejected it without hesitation the moment he
heard about it, the center of his brain feeling as though it was pushed up
against a wall.

�� And why should that be? he thought a
moment later. I don�t doubt that my
father�s magical theory is sound. A wife probably would help me to get over the
sexual aspect of the curse that was directed towards Potter. I have to distance
myself from Harry, and I know that.

�� Because he didn�t want anyone else. That was the simple
truth, and no matter how much Lucius�or Draco himself�didn�t like it, it still
remained true. Draco didn�t feel the overwhelming lust for Harry that the curse
had given him when first cast, but he did
want to sleep with him. He wanted to touch him, see what it was like to
suck him off or be buried inside him, and even, perhaps, experience Harry�s
cock up his arse. He didn�t want to
share his bed with anyone else. The delicate, refined pure-blood witch with a
core of steel that his father would probably look for was especially unsuited.

�� He needed
someone male, passionate, devoted. Someone who had fought
beside Draco and risked his life for him. Someone who
could look Draco in the eyes, unflinching, after Draco had nearly raped him.

�� It was the
lust that told him that, but the rational part of his brain agreed with his
darker half. Too great a rupture from Harry right now would simply doom his
attempts to recover.

�� Draco shook
his head slightly. He knew that wasn�t what his father wanted to hear, and,
quite honestly, Draco didn�t think it was what he wanted to tell him, either. He lifted his head and
looked critically at his father, pondering whether he could survive the shock
of hearing the truth.

�� You
haven�t yet agreed with me, Draco.� Lucius had a sharp smile when he was being
threatening, and he wore it now. Of course, he would never offer a simple
threat, Draco knew. He loved his son. The threat would come
soaked in bribes, wrapped around with temptation. �I hope that you know I�ll
offer you a choice of several women? I would never order you simply to marry
someone whom you might not favor.�

�� I know
that, Father.� It was the first simple sentence that had passed between them
since they came into the library, Draco thought. He picked up his wine again
and took what he hoped was a thoughtful, judicious sip.

�� Lucius
leaned forwards. �But I will order
you to marry, Draco. The continuance of our family and your world depends on
it. I should have ordered it some time since. You will have stability and
someone to share your life as well as someone to help you forget about Potter.�

�� I never can.

�� The lust
pounded beneath his heart. The jealousy bounded beneath his skin. Draco thought
the effects might be temporary, but he wasn�t willing to bet on it, not without
more magical help. Of course, that didn�t have to come from Harry. It was
possible that St. Mungo�s might be able to do something, now that the greater
curse didn�t threaten him, but only a lesser shadow of it. And he could stay
away from Harry and hope that the urges would lessen as they didn�t come into
physical contact and the memories from the curse�s influence faded.

�� Could, but don�t want to.

�� So that was
it, then. Draco would have to murmur meaningless nothings to content his father
for now, but he was going back to Harry, and he would work out either a
permanent solution or�well, a permanent solution. It simply remained to be seen
what kind it would be, not whether it would happen.

�� I know
that you can order me to marry, Father,� he said calmly. �But I have been
through not only the cure to the curse today, but also nearly raping Potter,
which he was good enough not to hold against me, and rescuing him from the
group of Muggleborn fanatics who cursed me in the first place. Can I rest
rather than speak with you any more about it?� He stood up from his chair.

�� Lucius
visibly checked a motion to stop him. �What group�� Then he seemed to take a
better look at Draco, and ended up nodding. �Of course, son.
God knows that you deserve some chance to rest, especially since you now have a
future to look forward to.�

�� Draco gave
him a tired smile and clasped his hand in a quick, tight shake before he
climbed up the stairs to his bed.

�� Where he had been since, wondering what he ought to do and
reviewing his family�s reception of him. His mother, he thought, might
support him. She seemed to have a better sense of exactly how much they owed to
Harry. His father wanted simply to get past it, for these things never to have
been.

�� It was an
understandable reaction, but not one that Draco could condone.

�� In the
morning, he would see Harry. Draco reminded himself of
that and closed his eyes. It was enough. He would force it to be enough.

*

�� Harry.�
Kingsley Shacklebolt�s face was surprised, but he managed to mask the yawn that
threatened to crack his jaws open. �I�m glad to hear from you. And glad to hear
that you�ve survived,� he added.

�� Harry
nodded. The gossip would have spread when he left St. Mungo�s with Draco, of
course, and Ron and Hermione might have said something to Kingsley, too. �I
have a favor to ask, Minister,� he said.

�� Kingsley
blinked. �You know that I�m always happy to do anything I can for you, Harry,�
he said, and then smiled. �Is it another Order of Merlin?�

�� Harry shook
his head, though he relaxed enough to smile back. He�d campaigned for a
posthumous Order of Merlin for Snape until he managed to pin one on the
stubborn git�s portrait in the Headmaster�s office. �No. Actually, I need your
word that you�ll seal the record of crimes that someone performed under a
curse.�

�� Kingsley
blinked and stared at him. �Harry,� he said softly, at last, sounding as though
Harry had knocked the wind out of him. �You can�t�the crimes need to be at
least tried, even if we ultimately
decide not to convict.�

�� There are
two things that I can offer you,� Harry said. �The first is that I cured Nova Cupiditas today.
I want to share the knowledge with the Ministry, and I�ll offer it to you free
of charge and immediately, writing down all my notes�but not if I know that
someone who committed crimes because he wasn�t in his right mind is going to be
treated like a criminal.�

�� Kingsley
blinked again. Then he said, �That serious, eh? And what�s the other?�

�� Harry
pulled back the fringe over his scar. Kingsley gave him an inquiring, baffled
scowl, and Harry, having lowered his voice even further than Kingsley�s had
gone, said, �I know that you once said that all Britain owed me a favor because
of this scar and what it means. I never called in that favor. I�m doing it
now.�

�� After that,
it was all over but the spluttering. Kingsley didn�t like it, but he knew well
enough the scandal that Harry could create if he wanted to, and since both
Harry and Draco had survived and Harry was willing to testify that he hadn�t
been raped, Kingsley�s greatest fears were allayed. He did pale when Harry
recounted the murders of the Seekers of Justice, but Harry reminded him that
the Aurors hadn�t caught the Muggleborns before now, which might point to some
corruption among them, and that they
would have the means to reverse Nova Cupiditas for anyone the Seekers of Justice used it on
in the future. Kingsley gave in, with bad grace.

�� The Floo
connection closed, and Harry sat back on his heels and shook for a while.

�� It was
done, something he despised himself for. He had never traded on his fame. But he couldn�t bear the thought of Draco
suffering for something that hadn�t been his fault, that
had been the curse�s violent manifestations, and was Harry�s fault if it was
anyone�s. He should have tied up Draco and deprived him permanently of his wand
much earlier.

�� He could
give Draco this final gift, to ensure that he could return to his normal life
untouched.

�� But he
would still meet Draco tomorrow. To say good-bye.

*

�� Review
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