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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 Nineteen--After the Ritual

            Harry leaned back from the Pensieve and closed his eyes for a second. He had committed the memory of the ritual to it, and although the wisps left inside his brain had lost much of their original intensity, he was convinced that what was in the Pensieve was enough. Malfoy would recognize the face, or maybe Briseis would, and then they could hunt him down and figure out who he was and what he had to do with their campaigns.

            "My Lord."

            Harry snapped his eyes open and turned his head sharply before he could stop himself. He had told Briseis several times how much he disliked that title, but it seemed she was determined not to listen. He sighed. He couldn't say he had listened much to her lately, either. He leaned forwards with his hands clasped in front of him and his smile as welcoming as he could make it. "Yes? Do you have something for me?"

            Briseis was carrying something on one wrist, he saw, blinking at it. It looked like a complicated arrangement of small silver wires and smaller stone medallions. She halted in the middle of his new office, and all the wires swung out so they were pointing straight at him.

            Briseis considered him for a moment, then sat down on one of the stools Harry had Transfigured and shook her head. "I thought it would probably be you, that no one else could be performing Dark magic that powerful in your domain without you being aware of it, but I had to be sure."

            Harry smiled at her. "Of course you had to be. Now, can you tell me what you were looking for?"

            "Dark magic," Briseis said. "I felt the ritual take place last night, on Hogwarts grounds. I thought it was unusual, given that it was not only your realm, but a night of the full moon, a time traditionally powerful for Light magic. But that might not make a difference for a Dark Arts practitioner who had been a Light wizard until relatively recently." Her eyes were fastened on him. Harry wondered what she thought he might do, hide the truth from her, or run away, or deny it.

            Perhaps because he chose to do none of those things, her jaw tumbled open when Harry nodded and said, "Yes, I meant to inform you of my intentions beforehand, but I was busy practicing the ritual and making sure I didn't get it wrong. Sorry."

            Briseis studied him. "It was a ritual that needed the full moon to work, my lord?" she asked at last. "There are only a limited number of those."

            No, there aren't, Harry thought, startled, and then realized that this was another test, of sorts. She was spreading a trap for him, seeing whether he would agree with her and hide the truth again, or reveal a woeful lack of magical knowledge. Harry didn't think Briseis would agree to stay and work for a stupid employer. She practically hovered on the edge of her seat, holding her breath.

            "There are many," Harry said, and nodded at the Pensieve. "But in this case, the ritual was an attempt to reveal the face of an enemy, the one in the Ministry who sent out those pictures. Because the photos are old, and that means someone took them a long time ago. I want to know who at the Ministry knew I was being abused."

            The last words came out in a rolling, growling tone he hadn't meant to give them, and Harry paused a little. He wondered if he should apologize, if there was the potential that he might scare her.

            But Briseis rose up as if propelled from the stool by wings. She stood with her hands clasped together, her eyes fastened on him, and her grin so wide that Harry turned in spite of himself to look over his shoulder, wondering if Hogwarts had put on one of the whimsical magical shows it sometimes did now to get his attention.

            "I wondered if you would ever start taking things personally," Briseis said, and clapped her hands together and bowed, giggling like a girl. "Forgive me--it just--it's so nice to serve someone who is going to take the insults that his enemies hurled at him personally and do something about it, to show them that they don't run the wizarding world."

            Harry stared at her and said the first thing that came into his head, which she would probably resent. "I thought you wouldn't like it that I started taking things personally. Isn't it better when I react politically? You were angry because I hadn't told you about my past before the pictures appeared, and I wanted to keep it to myself because it was personal."

            Briseis furiously shook her head, and didn't take her eyes off him at the same time. Harry had no idea how she did that. "I was angry because I didn't know about it, and so I couldn't help you plan for it, and I had no idea of how it would affect your behavior," she contradicted him in a low voice. "But I'd started to worry that you only ever did something for the sake of someone else. Which would mean you were helpless unless the people who sent the pictures attacked Mr. Malfoy or someone else you value."

            Harry opened his mouth to ask how exactly she thought he valued Mr. Malfoy, but Briseis was sweeping on. "But you have a personal sense of insult, too! You'll react in the future when they try to hurt you!" She abruptly blushed, and clasped her hands to her mouth, shaking a little. "Sorry. I am sorry. But it's so exciting to know that you're finally going to retaliate, and I get to be there and watch."

            Harry eyed her. "What do you think I'm going to do with my enemy once I've identified him? Raze the Ministry to the ground?"

            "You have the power to," Briseis said. "You performed that ritual last night--"

            "With the power of the moon helping me, and with the help of my blood," Harry said. Briseis just smiled at the mention of blood, which Harry knew most of his friends wouldn't have. "That doesn't mean I can do anything. It means I can do some things, though," he had to admit.

            "But you'll do things now," Briseis said with satisfaction that ended in a little sigh. "That's what I wondered." She cocked her head to the side, eyes gleaming. "I wondered why you were keeping so quiet the last four days. But you were getting ready to aim at a target, weren't you? What are you going to do now that you know who he is?"

            "I don't know his name," Harry said, hedging, and knowing he was hedging. But he really didn't want to make a promise to Briseis, or move fast, without more information about who this man was and what his name was. He thought it likely that it was information only Malfoy could give him. "The ritual only showed me his face. Once I know, then yes, I promise I'll move fast enough to satisfy you."

            "I wasn't asking about the speed, My Lord," Briseis said, the capital letters so obvious that Harry could have heard them if he'd never met her before. "I was asking about what you would do, My Lord."

            Harry settled back with a little sigh. He had to admit there were political considerations, ways to punish the man who had known he was being abused that might not alienate the public and the Ministry further from him--

            But, when he thought about it, was that really a primary consideration? He had done the best he could not to alienate them, and it hadn't worked. They still reacted, at least some of them, as though he was an evil murdering Dark Lord, even before he had had any of the fun of evil murdering.

            Maybe what should matter is what can help us, rather than what would make everyone else calm and accepting. The problem with calm and accepting is that it probably doesn't exist anyway.

            He faced Briseis and said, "I'm going to get revenge."

            She looked as if she'd like to swoop around the room, but instead firmed her jaw and asked, "How?"

            "That will have to await the suggestions of Malfoy and others," Harry said. He added, as he saw the spark dim in her eyes a little, "But there will be definitely be revenge. I just don't want it to hurt Malfoy's campaign in any way."

            Great, now I have to promise my political adviser not to take her toys away.

            "I can see that," Briseis said, the lines in her face all as sharp as if her expression was made of creased linen. "But I think you should talk to him soon. It's been almost five days since those photographs were released, and you haven't done anything that the public knows about." She left the room with one more sharp glance at him, her mouth opening as if she wanted to add something else but couldn't think of anything.

            Harry sighed and sat down at his desk again. What kind of revenge could he take, given that it would have to depend on Malfoy's advice and Briseis's and maybe even Hermione's? He had spoken with his friends since the pictures were published, but all of them were awkward with each other. Hermione seemed to think she should have asked more about the Dursleys before this, Ron knew that Harry didn't want to talk about them even now and made chattering small talk that irritated both Harry and Hermione, and Harry wavered between telling them about Malfoy and keeping that secret.

            Talking with Malfoy will be a relief. He knew Malfoy had had some kind of dinner party last night that he expected to produce political results.

            Harry had to laugh a little, even as the chair arm beside him grew soft and flexible, Hogwarts's attempt to comfort him by making a snake. Harry stroked its back and shook his head.

            Who knew that I would ever accept Malfoy as a source of comfort?

*

            Draco smiled as he stepped from the most heavily warded Floo of the Manor into Hogwarts. The dinner party had gone exceptionally well last night. He had managed to cast dollops of doubt into the common opinions about Harry's actions, Harry's reputation, and Minister Tillipop's sanity. The fewer people who believed the Daily Prophet in general, the better, he felt. Even if the paper began to report accurately on some of the things he and Harry did, they could use readers who thought more skeptically and critically.

            "Malfoy?"

            Draco blinked and turned around. He had come into Harry's office, but he hadn't seen him right away. He was seated with his feet up on his desk, flicking through a collection of papers. Draco drifted towards him, trying to see the papers without being obvious. It must not have worked, because Harry grinned at him and held them out.

            "I had Briseis do some research for me," he said. "Punishments in the wizarding world for adults who knew that a child was being abused and did nothing."

            Draco made a hungry noise in spite of himself, and reached for them. In his hand, they looked as if Harry had already thumbed through them once, although having met Briseis, Draco knew she might have done the same thing. Draco noted, approvingly, that some of the punishments involved spells thought to be Dark when practiced outside the Aurors. Harry could use some more practice in Dark magic if he was going to call himself a Dark Lord. When a serious challenge came, he had to be able to back up his response with more than sheer power.

            "You look happy."

            Draco smiled at him, seeing no need to hide it. "I am. My party went well, and you're finally moving to defend yourself in a proper way."

            Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back against the chair. "You'd think not so many people would be interested in that," he muttered. "Yes, I do know that I'm going to get revenge, but that's a personal thing. You might not even know what I decide to do, in the end, or what effect it has on our enemies."

            "But they are our enemies," Draco said. "And they tried to involve me in hurting you. Even if you decide that you need to keep the information secret from Briseis and your friends, I'm hopeful that you'll tell me. That you'll want to."

            Harry regarded him for a single moment with bright eyes, then ducked his head and said, "Well. We'll see. For the moment, I need you to look into the Pensieve where I've captured the memories of the ritual and tell me who our enemies actually are. I recognized some of the faces conjured by the ritual, but not all of them."

            Draco blinked as he lowered his head towards the Pensieve. "Faces?" The ritual normally produced only one.

            Harry smiled slightly at him, and his magic rose and eddied around him, the stones of Hogwarts rippling as if liquid. "Yes. It seems that my power, or my bond with Hogwarts, produced greater results than I thought I'd get."

            Draco plunged his head into the Pensieve without waiting, or asking if Harry wanted to accompany him. He wanted to learn what was going on too badly even to wait as a courtesy.

            He found himself on the outer side of a circle in which Harry stood, thrumming with power. Draco stared at him in shock. There was a slight blurring and wavering over Harry's face, as though he had distorted cheeks and extra hair along the sides of his head. Draco knew it must be caused by the power he was channeling, but he'd never seen anything like it.

            It took him another few seconds to rip his eyes away from Harry and concentrate on what he had come to see, the faces.

            There was indeed a pyramid of faces floating in front of Harry, linked by golden chains of power. It was hard for Draco to determine if the chains were made of fire or light, and after a moment, he gave up trying. What was important was that the chains were there, and as much a unique product of the ritual as the multiple faces themselves.

            Draco wondered absently if there was any way of measuring how powerful Harry's magic was. Or perhaps it was only this strong because he had conducted the ritual on the grounds of Hogwarts, and it would suffer a loss elsewhere.

            It might be important to know that.

            For now, though, the ritual was complete and an answer was waiting. Draco need only stare in admiration at Harry's power. And walk to the point outside the circle of blood and magic where he could see the face at the top of the pyramid. He needed no one to explain the arrangement to him, that the one floating there would be the one most directly linked to the pictures Harry had burned.

            He saw the face--an unremarkable, brown-eyed wizard with butter-yellow hair--and his throat tightened painfully, and the constriction in his chest was bad enough that he put a hand up to his heart. But he knew that he wasn't having a heart attack.

            A few seconds later, he was out of the Pensieve, his breath slowing rapidly. Harry leaned in towards him, one hand on Draco's arm as though he thought he might need to support him. And never mind that Draco was already sitting down.

            "It was someone you knew, someone you didn't expect to see," Harry said quietly, eyes fastened on him. "Who?"

            Well, his concern for me must not be all that deep, if he's asking that question rather than if I'm all right, Draco thought, and his breathing and his gaze both steadied. He had a decision to make now. He would make it.

            On one side lay years of friendship, loyalty, secrets that no one had ever tried to take back from him even though he technically wasn't supposed to know them. On the other side lay his future, the campaign he might build, and Harry.

            Draco made the choice more easily than he had thought he might, in the end. After all, if the person behind that glamour of the ordinary wizard had wanted Draco to remain loyal, she shouldn't have sent him the photos in the first place. Draco thought now it was a warning of what she would do, more than a threat--a warning to desert Harry and ally himself with someone else. She couldn't have anticipated that he would have no idea what the photos meant and would show them to Harry the first chance he got.

            Draco sat up, fixed his eyes on Harry, and said, "The wizard at the top of the pyramid goes by the name Caelum Seerwood. A minor flunkey in the Ministry, someone you would walk past without noticing him on most ordinary days."

            Harry blinked a little. "Goes by? Who is he really, then?"

            Good boy. He doesn't need everything spilled out for him, after all. Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, and Harry didn't try to pull it back. He crouched down beside Draco's chair, instead, tracing Draco's face with his eyes, and waited for the answer.

            "A disguise for the witch who, currently, wears the legal name Gioia Fifernum." Harry only blinked at him, and Draco had to add, making his betrayal and repayment for her betrayal both complete, "Blaise Zabini's mother."

*

            alexkdp: Harry is not only feeling what it’s like to be powerful, he has people who encourage him in it—even more addicting.

            qwerty: You’ll get to see some in the next chapter.

            SP777: Harry is a bit wary about falling into the Dark, but he’s also so fed up with the Ministry’s stupidity that he’ll choose the Dark if the alternative is that.

            And yes, Lordship is something I’m writing about lately, although I would say that Harry in my other story concerning it is not a Dark Lord.

            delia cerrano: Well, advising them is their job. As you saw last chapter, Draco doesn’t always do what Rosenthal advises.

            Demonadine: Thank you!

            Seiren: Thank you! But Draco simply needed the chandeliers to reflect the light.
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