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The Mark of the Fox	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7763 -:- 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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�� Harry had
reached the section of the valley he had come in by before he finally felt safe
enough to stop running. Even then, it was more a decision that his body made
than one his mind did. He couldn�t go any further.

�� He sagged
to the ground, bracing his palms in front of him, trying to assess his injuries
while his blood flowed with adrenaline and his mind flew faster than it had
been forced to in years. A lump on the back of his head from where Malfoy had
cast him into the fountain. Aches along his ribs from where he had fallen from
the battlements, but nothing broken. Harry had had broken ribs before. He knew
what they felt like. This was flaring pain that would almost certainly leave
him with enormous explosions of purple and black along his sides, but that was
manageable.

�� And a far
greater respect for Malfoy than he had ever thought he would possess.

�� Harry shook
his head and tried to keep a smile off his lips. A smile was irresponsible. He
had fought someone who was apparently draining magic from people, someone who
was much more powerful than Harry had thought he was and had defeated some of
his best spells. He would have to get news to the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement immediately. Harry was right in the center of the Department�s
politics, and he would have known if anyone had suspected this of Malfoy. So
far as he knew, not one rumor about this had migrated out of Fox Valley.

�� The smile
insisted on staying anyway.

�� Malfoy
could fight.

��

And
does fighting like that allow you to escape the thought of your responsibility
for the lives you have destroyed, the people you let die on your watch, and the
children you failed to save?

Harry felt his smile freeze and
then crack off his face like delicate pieces of frost, the way it should. He
drew a painful breath and relished the pain for a moment, because it would keep
him away from thoughts like that, both the good and the stupid. He rose to his
feet, glancing over his shoulder out of habit, but no one was hunting him. Yet.

A message to the Ministry. That had
to come first. Harry might have gone back himself, but he�d understood, from
some of the silences Robards had left between his words, that he�d been sent on
this holiday to get him away from the bad press that surrounded the Ministry in
the wake of that last case as much as to give him a rest. Coming back too soon
would defeat the purpose. Besides, Merlin knew what would happen to the poor
people here while he was gone.

�� Besides, it�s not as if anyone there will be
particularly worrying about me.

�� Harry
huffed softly. Two years since Ron and Hermione had left for Australia. He
still talked to them by Floo regularly, and sometimes by albatross when they
wanted to pay for the expense of sending a message or package that distance. He
still had dinner with the Weasley family on occasion and answered their
questions about his life and asked them about theirs.

�� But there
was a wall between them nonetheless. He didn�t know the details of Ron and
Hermione�s daily activities anymore. They didn�t know about most of his cases,
since Harry was under orders not to discuss them. The Weasleys were moving on,
getting over the war and Fred�s death, and the next child to be born into the
family or the latest song by Celestina Warbeck was more important to them than
details of the Dark Lord who might have taken over Britain if Harry and the
other Aurors hadn�t stopped him in time. And that was the way it should be,
Harry admitted to himself. They were the ones who had normal lives. He was the
one who had gone from one kind of fighting to another, living his life back to
front, putting the worst struggles first.

�� Those
thoughts didn�t matter. He had to stop thinking about himself, because he
wasn�t what mattered here. Malfoy�s innocent victims were. Harry reached into
his pocket and drew out ink and quill and parchment, which he always carried
with him thanks to Hermione�s long-ago nagging. He scribbled a succinct
description of what was happening in Fox Valley and glanced around. There was a
pebble on the path beside him that would do nicely.

�� He made the
pebble into a Portkey using a spell that he wasn�t supposed to know, which took
him more concentration than would have been wise to use earlier, and then cast
it into the air. It spun and vanished, heading for Robards�s office. Harry
relaxed. He was glad to know that the spells on the valley didn�t prevent the
making of Portkeys.

�� On the
other hand, they probably detected them. It wasn�t safe to stay here any
longer. Harry got ready to move.

�� And then he
heard the baying.

*

�� Draco
leaned forwards, smiling into the restored lens in his office. He had lenses
all over the valley so that the subtle draining of magic could continue all the
time, and so that his guests couldn�t escape observation or get to one place
and wonder why they suddenly felt so much more energetic. That meant he could
watch the battle between Potter and his Twin Brothers no matter where it
happened.

�� It was
happening near the cave where Potter had first landed when Draco had thought it
would be an ordinary day, and he�d obviously just sent off a Portkey. That
didn�t matter. Draco trusted his contact in the Ministry to intercept any
message Potter sent and keep the secret from emerging. After all, his neck
would be on the line, along with everyone else�s, if it did.

�� Potter had
heard the baying by now, and he backed up so that his shoulders touched the
mountain. There was wariness and confusion in his eyes. Draco was pleased to
see that. Potter must already know that the voices, though similar, were not
the cries of hounds.

�� Draco touched
the lens with the wooden fox, and the scene shifted in a whirlwind of color,
landing on the stretch of street that curved around a rocky spur of the
mountain and headed for the cave. The Twin Brothers moved swiftly. Draco
doubted that he would have been able to fully understand what he was seeing, no
matter how magnificent the view, if this were the first time his eyes had tried
to absorb the vision.

�� They were
huge, and looked like wolves the size of ponies on first glimpse: their coats
gleaming grey, their jaws lined with fangs the size and length of paring
knives, their paws hitting the ground with such force that they bounced off it.
Their cries were constant, never stopping or slowing down, no matter how much
they panted or slavered. They bounded and floated around the obstacles in their
path, trees and boulders alike.

�� And yet, if
one looked more closely, one could see that there was something off about them.
Their fur was too smooth, their fangs so large that they couldn�t close their
mouths. Their paws were hand-shaped, and their legs crooked in such a way that
one could see the bends of knees and elbows in them. And Draco knew, even if no
other observer would, that on the left foreleg/forearm of each Brother was the
stylized mark of a fox in flight.

�� When Draco
had heard about two werewolves who had been trapped in one of their
transformations back from beast to human, and who retained their human
intellect while also carrying the crippling fury of the beast, he had known
that he had to possess them.

�� There was
no way that Potter could resist them, stop them, or slow them down.

�� Farewell, Harry Potter, Draco thought,
giving a little salute to the lens as he sent the vision reeling back to the
original one of Potter by means of the wooden fox. I shall wank to your image. You deserve that tribute.

*

�� Harry saw
the creatures round the last curve that separated him from them, and he began
to shiver, wondering what in the world they were and how he could defeat them.

�� But to
begin with, he had to use the knowledge he had. They looked like werewolves,
and so he would fight them that way until he knew otherwise. He lifted his wand
and murmured, �Pluvialis argentums.�

�� The air
between his wand and the leaping werewolves�great Merlin, the first one was
almost on him already�darkened and growled. Then the silver rain he�d called,
each drop a pure dollop of molten metal, hurtled away from him and in the
direction of the beasts.

�� The rain
hit one of the werewolves, the one on the left. The other one had already
leaped over it, turned a somersault that Harry bitterly felt was meant to mock
him with its grace and speed, and landed in front of him. It lashed out with
one paw even as the other beast stumbled and howled, but kept coming on anyway.

�� One thing learned, Harry thought as he
ducked beneath the sweep of the gigantic claws, and, a moment later, the
snapping fangs. A weapon that drops an
ordinary werewolf in its tracks is no use against them.

�� He really
ought to have known that, Harry admitted as he dodged right, dodged left,
leaped backwards, and then tried a somersault of his own. Ordinary werewolves
wouldn�t be out in daylight a fortnight before the full moon. It only made
sense that things would be different�

�� The one
he�d struck with the rain recovered and leaped at him. Harry spun aside from
most of its weight, and noted with satisfaction the ragged, smoking holes that
his silver rain had ripped along the sides of its jaw and through its muzzle so
that the killing teeth showed.

�� But the
great paw had brushed him.

�� Harry
staggered to his knees, belly full of dizzying, nauseating pain. He knew the werewolf hadn�t scratched him;
he wasn�t bleeding. But the mere touch of that silvery fur seemed to be enough.
He leaned forwards on all fours and began to throw up as if his intestines
would come through his mouth.

�� Ironically,
this saved his life, since the one on the left had crept close and then
launched a hard strike that was probably meant to snatch his head from his
shoulders. But it went above his head, only whiffling his hair, as he dropped.

�� Harry
vomited again, but he was thinking clearly now, instincts reacting where
ordinary thought couldn�t. He plunged a hand into his own mess and lit it on fire
with a wandless spell. Then he cast another spell with a nonverbal incantation,
one that not many people knew anymore but which he�d perfected ever since
learning it from the Dark wizard called the Corer, and flung the stinking,
burning, dripping handful at the werewolf on the right.

�� The beast
sprang to catch it, jaws snapping gleefully at it. It swallowed the thing in
mid-flight, and its twin hung back with what sounded like a chuckle while the
first one licked its lips and flattened itself to the ground to creep nearer.

�� Oh, even better, Harry thought, spitting
out bile. Satisfaction overrode the ache in his stomach and chest and along his
ribs. You�re going to be sorry you did
that.

�� The
werewolf�s staring red eyes crossed suddenly. It raised one leg and began to
scratch frantically at its side. The other one backed up and snarled, looking
from its twin to Harry as if it couldn�t decide whether to attack him or stay
and see what happened.

�� The first
werewolf exploded, cored from the inside out like an apple, falling apart into
sharply divided pieces. It was the way that the Corer had liked to dispose of
his victims. Of course, living beings made a lot more mess than an apple did,
given all the guts and flesh and intestines that that produced.

�� Good-bye, Harry thought, and scrambled
to his feet to face the other.

�� The second
werewolf sniffed frantically at the nearest section of the first, and then
tilted its head back and gave a long, wobbling howl Harry could only assume was
meant as mourning. Then it turned around, every hackle on end, with a snarl so
deep Harry could feel it in the ground beneath his feet, and began to stalk
him.

�� Harry
circled, careful not to take his eyes from the thing. He wouldn�t get so lucky
the next time, and no matter how mad those red eyes were, there was
intelligence there. It knew to take him seriously now.

�� But not seriously enough.

�� His stomach
was empty, his skin still buzzed and ached from the tingling brush of the first
werewolf�s fur, and his ribs were doing something more than aching. He thought
he could also feel a trickle of blood from the lump on the back of his head.

�� But the
pain and the shock had also cleared his mind. He could feel himself smiling, a
smile that Ron would have recognized and backed away from.

�� The wolf
didn�t have the sense, or maybe just the experience with Harry, to be cautious.
It came closer still, moving in smaller steps than Harry would have thought
such an enormous� beast could, and then
hurtled forwards with a howl that Harry suspected was meant to chill his soul.

�� It didn�t
chill his hands or his head, though, and those were the more relevant things to
helping him defeat this creature. He lifted his wand and sketched a quick cross
pattern in front of him, while intoning, �Casses
infragiles.�

�� The air
solidified just as the werewolf started to leave the ground to spring on him.
Then it turned silvery and crisscrossed with black lines. The net that resulted
fell on the werewolf from above, but it was already reaching down to the ground
on either side of the colossal legs, locking itself into place with massive
pins that bored into the stone as though it had turned soft.

�� The
werewolf rocked to a stop, snared. It struggled furiously, but the Latin
incantation meant �unbreakable net� for a reason. Harry suspected whatever
remnant of a human mind the wolf still possessed was enough of one to consider
that eventually, so he moved while he still had the advantage.

�� Ferrum argentus,� he said, and the air
shimmered next to his left hand. The silver sword he held was as long as the
Sword of Gryffindor, with a hard, cold hilt that Harry�s sweaty palm slipped
on. His head buzzed a warning song. He didn�t have the strength to keep up the
weight of the blade for long.

�� That didn�t
matter.

�� He stepped
up to the side of the net. The werewolf tried to turn to face him, but the net
had already wound around its jaws, and it could only snap in useless
confinement. Its eyes rolled wildly as Harry picked his spot and stabbed
between the meshes into the werewolf�s flank.

�� The howl
threw Harry from his feet. He let go of the sword, and popped back up on his
feet a safe distance from the thrashing beast. Maybe the silver by itself would
take care of it, he thought hopefully.

�� Then he
remembered how the silver rain incantation hadn�t worked as well as it was
supposed to, and shook his head, holding his wand towards the sword. �Defende contra malis,� he murmured.

�� The sword
glowed and started wriggling fiercely, driving its way into the werewolf of its
own free will. The wolf rolled on its back and tried to use that neat position
to leverage the sword out of its side. Nothing happened. It had already dug too
deep, chewing through the wolf's vital organs, slicing muscles apart from each
other, making it fall into neat halves along a distinct line.

�� If I cored the other one like an apple, I�ll
cut this one like a loaf of bread, Harry thought crazily.

�� Then he
blinked as sweat ran into his eyes, and realized how much he hurt. When he
glanced back towards the Valley, he couldn�t see any pursuers, but that had
meant nothing the first time, and would mean less than nothing now.

�� He had to
get out of sight, away from those bloody mirrors if he could. And since he was
near one now, he would have to move, instead of crawling into the cave he�d
come from, even though he didn�t think it had any mirrors.

�� He began to
limp away up to the head of the valley, leaving the howls of the werewolf to
fade behind him. It made sense that the further he went from the center of the
valley, the smaller Malfoy�s influence would become. He should be able to find
a hiding place up here, and food. He could, as long as he had something solid
and small, Transfigure it into food. It would be tasteless, and he couldn�t
survive on it for long, but he shouldn�t need long.

�� And then I�ll see about settling Malfoy, he
thought, baring his teeth and almost hoping that the bastard could see him.

*

�� Draco gaped
at the lens for long moments after Potter had vanished up into the hills and
the glass had shown the last convulsions of the dying Twin Brother, because he
hadn�t ordered the vision to move and follow Potter.

�� Then he
made a grunting sound he knew was undignified and dug into his trousers with
one hand, which clawed at his thighs as he rooted into his pants and seized his
cock. It had started swelling painfully when he saw the first Twin Brother fall
apart into cored sections, and now he had
to do something about it or fall over from lust.

�� He tilted
his head back as he yanked at himself, his motions so fast and rough that he
abraded the skin, his eyes shutting so that he could watch the images of the
battle flash through his mind again with fewer distractions. The way Potter had
moved, his black hair flying behind him like a banner. The way he had chosen
spells that would handle not just werewolves but most opponents.

�� He hadn�t
hesitated when it came to Dark Arts, the way Draco knew most of the people at
the Ministry did, including the one he�d Marked. He had wielded his power with
skill and grace, and made the right decisions with very limited time to do so.
He�d had luck, but he�d used the luck
instead of trusting to that to save his arse. He was fully worthy of that
beautiful body.

�� Draco
uttered a garbled cry as he came over his hand, and slumped against the desk,
breathing harshly. He hadn�t come that fast since he�d masturbated in this
office the day after Fox Valley was completed and the lenses perfected.

�� He shook
his head and reveled in the satisfaction buzzing through his body for long
moments before he stood upright. He knew the course that he wanted to pursue
now. None of his people would be of any use against Potter in a direct
one-on-one confrontation, that was clear now. He would used his Marked ones to chase him, wear him down again,
and finally tame him through exhaustion.

�� And then he
would have him.

�� Draco was
as disinclined to kill Potter, now that he knew what he was capable of, as he
would have been to let the Twin Brothers go free.

�� Besides, he owes me for taking away a few of
my best monsters, Draco thought as he sent a mental call to Lisa.

*

�� Harry tried
not to gulp the sandwich he�d Transfigured from a pebble. It was tasteless, the
bread crunching like sand and the cheese papery, but that didn�t matter. It
would keep him going for a short time, and a short time was all he asked for.
Besides, he was hungry enough, after the werewolf had made him vomit, to eat a
slice of the cake that Robards had offered everyone when he turned fifty-five.

�� Then Harry
paused and thought carefully about that.

�� Maybe not that hungry.

�� Sandwich
finished, he pulled his shirt and looked down at his ribs. Yes, purple
sunbursts of bruises, just as expected. Harry shook his head and laid his wand
next to them, murmuring basic healing spells. Some of the ache left, and he
could breathe more easily. It would have to do. He had never been proficient at
healing spells deeper than that. Some Aurors were, and could combine the two
skills, but several of the other Aurors who could sense magic better than Harry
could had told him his magic had a flashy, aggressive edge. It wasn�t suited
for magic like healing, passive magic that wasn�t an attack against anyone or
anything, or a defense against an attack.

�� Harry had
tried for a while to think of healing
magic like that, because how the magic behaved was influenced by the way that
someone chose to put its image together in his mind. But it didn�t work. In the
end, he�d given up and gone on to hone those talents that he was better at.

�� And it worked, didn�t it? he thought as
he piled his head on another Transfigured stone behind him, this one made into
a pillow, and shut his eyes. That�s the
reason you survived that attack, and Malfoy�s attack, where someone else
wouldn�t.

�� Malfoy�

�� Harry
shivered and opened his eyes to look up at the massive overhang that sheltered
him again. He didn�t want to think about the way Malfoy had fought. It was like
a shot of wine for his mind, clearing it, shocking it, making him go over every
movement and acknowledge the truth: for the first time since he had entered the
Aurors, he had found someone who could match him in battle.

�� But he
strove to forget about the revelation, because it didn�t matter. Malfoy was on
the opposite side of everything Harry stood for, he had hurt innocent people,
and he would never agree to become a recruit for the Aurors, which Harry had
thought was the natural fate for anyone who was his equal.

�� Besides, he
had more important things to think about, such as his rest. Harry tapped into
that mental discipline that he had learned along with other skills during Auror
training, and forced himself into sleep.

*

�� Draco let
his gaze pass slowly along the line of Marked ones assembled in front of him.
It included Lisa; Victor; Thalia Desander, who looked back at him with patient,
bored blue eyes; Oliver Hurston, with his slightly breathless look, as though
he�d just blown in on a random wind; and Mina Johnson, his Potions master. Mina
still looked more than a little irritated at having been pulled out of her lab.

�� Draco
didn�t have time for her irritation. In fact, he had time for little except the
warning he was about to deliver and his instructions. Every minute he paused
was one that Potter could be resting up, regaining his mental and physical
footing. Draco had no illusions about what would happen to them if he allowed
Potter to recover fully.

�� I wish to
chase Potter,� he said. �To force him to keep moving from one place to another.
He doesn�t know the ground around the valley, and he won�t leave the area
because he�s sure that he needs to rescue our visitors. Those are to our
advantage, and so is the fact that he doesn�t know about your various gifts.�
Thalia smiled tightly at that; the others only nodded. �Those are our only advantages. Potter killed the Twin
Brothers.�

�� He hadn�t
told anyone that yet. Lisa shut her eyes. Victor spread his hands and said
helplessly, �My Lord, if that�s the case, how can we face him?�

�� That is
the second part of your instructions,� Draco said. �Don�t face him for long,
and never let him hit you directly. I want him cornered in the end, but I�ll
decide when he�s weakened enough for me to face him. In the meantime, strike
him with little bites out of his flanks. Weary him enough, and he�ll be no more
dangerous than any other wizard.�

�� I doubt
that,� Lisa said, in the special whisper that only Draco could hear.

�� Draco tilted
his head at her, and faced Mina. �In particular,� he said, �I don�t want you to
use any of your explosive potions. They might come too close to hurting him.
Use the ones that will be likely to trap him instead.�

�� Mina
sulked. She was a tall woman with long black hair and the only natural violet
eyes Draco had ever seen, which made the sulking quite a sight. Draco had
sometimes been attracted to her, but he looked at her now, and the thought of
Potter�s power flashed through his head, and he knew that was at an end. �Why
are you so intent on taking him alive, Lord?� she asked. �Dead, he would be
much less of a threat.�

�� He owes
me,� Draco said simply. He knew better than to talk about Potter�s beauty in
battle. They would see danger in that, not least to their own positions, and
not the fierce draw Draco contemplated.

�� That was
enough for Lisa and Victor, even Oliver, who bowed to him. Thalia looked at him
thoughtfully. �And his death would not be enough payment?� she asked.

�� It would
not,� Draco answered, fixing his eyes on hers and sending a pulse of pain
through her Mark. Thalia closed her eyes and swayed on her feet, but refused to
show any other response. That was her way. Draco was not unappreciative of it,
when it wasn�t leading her to challenge him on matters that she really ought to
have left well enough alone.

�� Oh, very well,� Mina said. �I have potions that I
can use.�

�� Everyone
is grateful for that, Mina,� Draco said dryly, making the others laugh. He
nodded to them, and they scattered out onto the streets. Draco waited until he
was sure they were gone and would not double back to ask questions before he
turned to the observation lens again.

�� He needed
to tend to some of the business of Fox Valley, and did not have time to watch
most of the hunt after Potter unless his people ran into trouble�which he both
expected and did not expect. His mental balancing of their strengths and
Potter�s was so delicate, it was hard to tell who would win.

�� But he did
allow himself one glimpse of Potter resting on a Transfigured pillow, his eyes
shut, his breaths deep and heavy. Draco shook his head, his smile far gentler
than he would have allowed any of his followers to see. He knew that some
Aurors could train themselves to sleep on command, but few actually used the
skill, because they would want to be alert all the time, anxious to finish the
job as soon as possible. Based on a description of Harry Potter and previous
knowledge of him during their Hogwarts days, Draco would have said that he was
one of those.

�� No, as
Draco could see now. He was practical enough to appreciate the value of a good
sleep.

�� Draco
reached out and let his fingers delicately skim above the surface of the lens.
It was as close as he could come to a caress without changing the vision.

�� Enjoy your last rest in freedom, Potter.

*

�� Harry
jerked and opened his eyes. His brain felt as if spiderwebs were scattered
through it, and he had to swallow several times before he could remember what
he was doing. He hadn�t had nearly enough sleep, but that didn�t matter. His
senses warned him that someone was nearby. He dug an elbow beneath him and
listened.

�� Then he saw
the woman standing beyond the overhang, watching him with a bored expression on
her face, and wondered why he hadn�t seen her earlier.

�� Don�t come
any closer,� he said in a quiet tone, holding up his wand so that she could see
it.

�� Look,� the
woman said in a bored, rapid voice, �I always prefer the reasonable option, so
I�ll offer it to you on the slim chance that you�ll take it. Our Lord wants you
to pay for killing his werewolves. He�s decided to take you in payment. I don�t
know why. Maybe because you�re a good fighter, or because your fame impresses
him.� She snorted and folded her arms. �I think he likes that, sometimes, to
Mark famous people or powerful ones and have them work for him. Will you
surrender and come with me? That way, you avoid a lot of wounds and I avoid a
lot of trouble.�

�� While she
was speaking, Harry studied her. He didn�t see the muscles or trained movements
of a fighter that he�d noted in Lisa Baines. In fact, she looked far too
slender and doll-like for Malfoy to be interested in employing her. She was
pretty, though. Maybe he sent her to people he assumed would fall for her charms
and react using their pricks instead of their brains.

�� That�s not
a choice,� he said. �I don�t want to be Marked. And you were probably enslaved
against your will, weren�t you�� He paused temptingly. �What was your name,
ma�am?�

�� Thalia.�
She smiled at him. �But I do wish that you wouldn�t call me ma�am. It�s been a
long time since I thought I deserved that title.�

�� Harry put
that interesting comment away for later, and said carefully, �You don�t want to
be Marked? If you helped me, then perhaps we could defeat Malfoy and earn your
freedom.�

�� Thalia
shook her head. �He designed the Marks to last even if he�s dead. And he�s
nearly invulnerable.� She stroked her left arm, and Harry wondered if Malfoy
had done something to her to ensure that she wouldn�t speak about his powers in
more detail. �No surrender, then?�

�� Harry shook
his head and began to stand.

�� Well, the
hard way it is, then,� Thalia said. �Honestly, some of the people he wants me
to hunt are so boring.� Her body
blurred and flowed.

�� Harry
backed up a step when he saw her Animagus form. It was a heavy-set cat, but
that didn�t matter, not with the golden fur patterned with black and the jaws
that could crush skulls. He knew a jaguar when he saw one.

�� Thalia
prowled a pace nearer. Her growl was low and inquiring. Harry tensed further as
he watched her. He didn�t know why she wasn�t attacking immediately.

�� On the
other hand, her not doing so provided him with the perfect chance to launch the
first blow. He aimed his wand at her paws and began to incant a spell that
would send the stone beneath her flying and throw her into the air.

�� She leaped
before he could, and bore him to the ground with a speed and power that left
Harry literally breathless. He thrashed, but she batted his wand out of the air
with a swift paw. Harry ducked its cut as it came back, cursing under his
breath. He had never fought an Animagus that was in an actually dangerous form
before. He was learning now how much power a predator�s body could have when
paired with a human mind.

�� Then he
felt Thalia�s jaws slip around his skull. Specifically, he felt the pressure of
the great front teeth pressing against his forehead.

�� Harry
closed his eyes and went very still. His only hope at the moment was that
Thalia would let her guard down and he could do something while she was
occupied with demonstrating her power over him.

�� Thalia
didn�t press down, but held him there, rumbling all the while in what might
have been either a growl or a purr; Harry wasn�t particularly interested in
identifying it. He swallowed and began slowly to call his power. Maybe Thalia
was only supposed to hold him here until Malfoy or someone else could arrive.
Maybe she didn�t mean to kill him.

�� And if that
was the case�

�� Wandless
magic surged and bubbled in the center of Harry�s chest. He knew it was
dangerous to clutch it for too long, lest it consume him. But he ought to be
able to let it fly soon, at least if Thalia really was a trap and not the major
hunter.

�� Thalia
shifted backwards, as if trying to find a more comfortable spot on his body so
that she could continue to hold him. In doing so, she put one paw down on his
sternum and made him bear her weight.

�� It was what
Harry had been waiting, or hoping, for.

�� He released
the magic in an uncontrolled blast that made his bones and skin glow from the
inside out and filled the air with the sound of madly ringing bells. The golden
fountain of power, or what Harry could see of it from behind mostly-shut
eyelids, caught up Thalia and tossed her into the air and over the side of the
mountain. The last he heard of her was her despairing, disappearing yowl.

�� Harry,
gasping harshly, stood and felt his chest. New bruises, and he felt a sharp
twinge of pain from his sternum that might indicate Thalia had broken it.

�� No time,
though, because he was certain someone else was drawing near. He snatched up
his wand and ran, heading up the mountain and away from Fox Valley, further
from the center of Malfoy�s power.

*

�� Draco
checked the reports a final time and leaned back, satisfied. Yes, all was going
exactly as it should be. The lenses had pulled magic from all the guests
currently in Fox Valley, enough to render them dreamy and lethargic but not
hurt them. Draco knew exactly what would happen to his business, and his
chances of gaining further power, if someone died in his resort.

�� Draco was
rather proud of the lenses. They were his creation, worked with spells that
Draco had learned when he left England after the war and wandered across the
Continent in search of a driving purpose now that he had seen how much tinsel
and rubbish his family�s pride had been. Magic worked on mirrors was ancient,
but that which absorbed the power of wizards had been born when Draco placed a
potion of his own invention before a mirror and lit it on fire, letting the
wavering smoke be drawn to, and into, its reflection.

�� Wizards,
unlike many other magical creatures Draco had experimented with, could
regenerate their power over time, even overnight if little enough was taken.
Thus Draco had his lenses operate on a strict schedule, never drawing from
someone who had been drawn on the day before, and never letting the drain
happen for more than an hour at a time. He gave people what they came to Fox
Valley for: a feeling of lovely, sleepy relaxation, which they missed and
yearned for when they returned home, ensuring they came back.

�� And in
return, he had the magic he gathered, which he could use to create still more
enchanting and addictive places to gather more magic, as well as store in
certain artifacts that enhanced his own power.

�� Draco
glanced at the bracelets that he had worn when he dueled Potter and smiled.

�� Then
another thought ran across his mind like blood down a lens, and he closed his
eyes. There had been something off
about that duel. Draco had completely emptied one bracelet in the fight. He had
never faced an enemy so powerful.

�� In and of
itself, that was not surprising. However ready he might be to disclaim the
title, Potter remained the Boy-Who-Lived, and the best Auror in the Department.
If Draco was going to use up half his extra magic in a fight with one wizard
who didn�t have Veela or goblin blood, it would make sense that Potter was the
one.

�� On the
other hand, if he was that strong, why hadn�t his contact in the Ministry
informed him of the fact?

�� Draco
turned and reached again for the file that he had received on Potter from his
Ministry contact. It was possible that there were clues there, worded
cautiously in case the file fell into the wrong hands, and he had missed them
on his first swift read-through.

�� But it was
also possible that the words were simply lacking altogether, which Draco now
thought to be the case.

�� In which
case, he would have a different kind of problem on his hands.

*

�� Harry
collapsed at last on a loose slope of scree and boulders that looked ready to
slide away at any minute. He was panting so hard that his ribs had started to
ache again. If he could go any further, he would still be running.

�� Right now,
he curled his legs beneath him and tried hard to rest sitting up. He didn�t
want to lie down, at least not until he had estimated the damage Thalia had
done to his skull. If he had a concussion, he shouldn�t go to sleep.

�� But when he
reached up and felt gingerly around, he located only a small pair of holes that
bled thin streams. Harry sighed in relief. A small piece of good luck on a
supremely shitty day. Right now, he�d take that.

�� He glanced
around, trying to find, or think of, a place nearby that he could defend. But
all the vegetation was scrubby here, and he saw no sign of a cave. He reckoned
he could brace his back against a boulder, though that wouldn�t keep an enemy
from coming over the top of it.

�� Mr.
Potter?�

�� Harry
groaned, not even bothering to keep it under his breath, and whirled to place
his back against the nearest boulder, holding up his wand.

�� The man who
stood facing him widened his eyes and skipped back a few steps. Harry examined
him narrowly. He had a weak face, wide blue eyes as clear as a baby�s, and
blond hair that looked like dandelion down. He was wearing, for some reason,
brilliant orange robes. Harry wondered for a second if he could possibly be a
guest in Fox Valley, a potential ally against Malfoy.

�� But he
lacked the dreamy glaze to his expression that Harry had seen on the woman
drained of her magic, so he didn�t think so. A pity, Harry thought, and stared into the man�s eyes. �What do you
want?�

�� The little
wizard squeaked and cowered. Looking up from beneath his arms, he said, �M-my
name is Oliver Hurston. I w-work for Lord Malfoy. I was assigned to find you
and bring you back.� He cleared his throat and looked hopefully at Harry as if
wondering whether that would be enough. The sight of Harry�s iron expression
seemed to convince him it wouldn�t, because he hurried on. �A-and now I�ve
found you. Could you come with me, please? It would save e-everyone a l-lot of
trouble.�

�� Harry
decided that, despite all temptation to do so, he wouldn�t sit down on the rock
and laugh aloud at the universe and the way it faced him with these reasonable
pleas from his enemies. After all, Thalia had turned out to be no joke, and
Hurston might be the same way.

�� Given that
Malfoy will kill me if I go back to him,� Harry said as calmly as he could, �no,
I don�t think I can agree.�

�� Oh, he
wouldn�t kill you,� said Hurston. �He told me that himself. And m-my darlings
won�t kill you, either. I�ll tell them not to.� He was smiling now, bobbing his
head as if he were listening to music that only he could hear. �So, c-could you
come back?�

�� Harry
settled his shoulders more firmly against the boulder. �And I�m just supposed
to take your word for it that he won�t harm me?�

�� Not m-my
word!� Hurston looked shocked that anyone would ask for such a thing. �Lord
M-Malfoy�s.�

�� No,� Harry
said. �Why don�t you adopt a different kind of solution that won�t make trouble
for people and just let me go?�

�� Hurston
blinked. �But I can�t do that,� he said, and touched his left arm. Harry was
really starting to hate that gesture, since he�d hoped it had died with
Voldemort. �Lord Malfoy would be very angry. He knows that I can stop you, or
at least hurt you, since I have my darlings.�

�� Your
darlings?� Harry found himself staring at the buttons on Hurston�s bright robes,
wondering if that was an odd way of referring to hidden weapons.

�� Yes,�
Hurston said, and looked both embarrassed and delighted. �I w-would introduce
them to you, but you wouldn�t want to meet them. No one ever does,� he added
mournfully. �Except for me. And my d-darlings are so lonely.�

�� Harry
tensed. Hurston seemed thoroughly distracted, talking about these invisible
darlings, and not that much of a threat. Harry could sense his magic; it wasn�t
powerful. Maybe he could strike at him and get away.

�� But Hurston
saw him lift his wand, and danced back, shaking his head. �You shouldn�t do
that,� he said. �Not when we w-were having that n-nice conversation.� Then he
lifted his head and called loudly, �Darlings!�

�� The air
around Harry and Hurston turned chill. And then Harry caught a glimpse of
darkness out of the corner of his eye, and heard the echoes of a scream. He
whirled around.

�� Dementors
closed in from every side, ghosting above the ground, silent and eerie and so
swift that Harry knew it would do him no good to run. He braced himself against
the fear already creeping over him, fixed his mind on the memory of solving his
first case in the Aurors, and bellowed, �Expecto
Patronum!�

�� The
Patronus bounded out of his wand, shimmering and silvery and as strong as ever,
and lowered its head as it faced the Dementors.

�� Finite,� said Hurston loudly, and the
Patronus vanished. When Harry stared at the little wizard, he saw that his face
was pale, but determined.

�� You
shouldn�t do that,� said Hurston. �Th-those things are n-nasty to my darlings.�

�� Harry drew
his breath to retort, but then the Dementors were on him.

�� Green light
and screams swam before Harry�s eyes in a mist of grey. He lunged forwards and
found himself hitting nothing. The cold of the Dementors swam away before he
could touch it, and the fear grew so bad that he thought he would have
preferred the touch of the werewolf�s fur that had made him vomit again.

�� They�ll kill me. They�ll Kiss me.

�� The air
around him was colder, and colder. It wasn�t air anymore. He couldn�t breathe.
He was falling, or he was standing still, and either one might have been true
as easily as the other.

�� But the
Kiss didn�t come, no matter how he sickened and weakened and felt as if a cut
in his soul was letting all his happiness drain out. Instead, the Dementors
simply hovered, and when Harry came back to himself, he was crouched on the
mountainside he had started on. His knees and his hands ached, as if he had
been pressing down on the rock at the same time as his mind floated and
tumbled.

�� Hurston
shook his head dolefully in front of Harry. �My darlings are so hungry,� he
said. �But Lord Malfoy said I wasn�t to kill you, and I obey Lord Malfoy. Come,
darlings.� He smiled and raised his hand, and the Dementors flooded out of
sight. No matter how hard Harry squinted at them�and with his swimming head,
that wasn�t easy to do�he couldn�t see where they went.

�� Harry was
left to shake and try to reassemble his thoughts. Malfoy commands a man who can command Dementors. This man lives in
terror of displeasing Malfoy, and he�ll obey commands that obviously go against
his own inclinations.

�� Malfoy is terrifying.

�� But that
only increased Harry�s determination to bring him down. Someone like this could
not be allowed to live and keep exercising control, or to create an army of
wizards like Hurston. Who knew what he would do with that army once he had it?
Based on his past performance, his ambitions could make Voldemort�s look small.

�� For the
moment, Hurston was holding back and just looking at him with mild blue eyes.
Good. Harry did what he should have done in the first place and cast a Stupefy on him, though he had to do it
twice, and nonverbally, because his teeth were chattering too hard to force the
words out.

�� Hurston
fell, his eyes gratifyingly wide. Harry staggered to his feet and began to
lurch down the slope. He would run sideways this time, and see if he couldn�t
buy some time before Malfoy�s next hunter found him.

*

�� Draco had
read carefully, and twice. Only when he was sure that he hadn�t missed anything
did he put down the report from Arthur and fold his hands, looking carefully
into the observation lens. It showed Oliver lying on a deserted slope.

�� Draco
almost wished he could have shattered the observation lens, but that would be a
waste of both a useful instrument and cold rage.

�� Arthur had
said that Harry Potter�s prowess had been exaggerated. He was not the
unstoppable killing or arresting machine he was sometimes portrayed as to the
public. The Ministry pretended he was, of course, for its own benefit, and
Draco could recognize and appreciate that motive. He did the same thing when he
had to, though as yet more of his prowess lay in secrecy than an outlandish
reputation.

�� Arthur had
said that the last case�about which the report was irritatingly vague�had
deprived Harry Potter of the will to live, almost, as well as bringing him into
the bad books of both the general public and the Ministry. He�d fucked up, and
two people had died. That meant that Potter, with his tendency to blame
himself, would be especially vulnerable to any schemes that Draco might want to
build around him.

�� Except that
none of that was true. Potter was strong, and he obviously wasn�t shy about
using Dark Arts, which meant he had grown ruthless somewhere along the way.

�� If Draco
had been thinking more clearly, then he would have known that the statement
about Potter�s losing the will to live was also false. Potter used guilt as a
lash, driving himself on to larger and stronger feats. He might wallow, but
only until he encountered another challenge and could use it to become a hero.
Draco had seen that kind of modus
operandi even in Hogwarts. Some things changed with time, but Potter�s essential
character was not one of them.

�� Now, all of
these discrepancies could have easily been explained if Arthur did not have
access to the truth of Potter�s files and had believed what he wanted to
believe, or collected evidence based on incomplete observations.

�� But given
who Arthur was, Draco knew he was supposed to be holding Potter�s true file.

�� That could
mean only one thing.

�� Arthur had
betrayed him, and had sent Harry Potter to Fox Valley to do something else
entirely, perhaps to bring Draco down.

�� The more
Draco thought about it, the more sense that made. Potter was a champion of
freedom. He had hated the Dark Lord more passionately than anyone Draco knew.
That meant he would hate anyone who Marked his followers in the same way, and
who might seem to have the same goals.

Draco did not have the same goals, of course. He preferred quiet methods to
noisy ones, and he preferred power to immortality or making people fear him.
Making people fear him was something that had to happen only sometimes, one
among a range of similar tactics. But from the outside, he could see how Potter
would refuse to believe that of him.

�� Potter had
come here as the weapon of the Ministry, whether or not he knew it, and the
weapon of someone Marked against his will.

�� Draco could
have admired the cleverness of the plan, except that not enough layers of
deception had protected it, and it had fallen apart the moment its defenses
were probed.

�� Draco did
not lash out in rage and shatter his observation lens. Draco smiled.

�� My plan is perfect, then. I will harness
Potter, and together we will punish my traitor and bring down the man who sent
him here, not caring if he lived or died, not telling him the truth, and used
us both.

�� And then I will teach Potter to rejoice in
my cause and fight for me willingly, which will punish the Ministry that Arthur
works for.

�� Yes. I like that plan.

*

�� I can�t go much further.

�� Harry
grimaced over admitting that much even to himself, but there was no question of
it. His ribs ached more than ever now, his head felt grim and murky after the
encounter with the Dementors, and he was rapidly nearing magical exhaustion
from the blast of wandless power he�d used on Thalia. He crouched in a shallow
dip in the hills that was the closest he�d found to a cave since his entrance
point and shut his eyes.

�� I can�t afford to sleep, either. Especially
since I know they won�t let me rest for long.

�� It wasn�t
long before he heard footsteps. With a long, slow groan, Harry clenched his
fists against the ground and forced himself to turn so that he was at least
facing the sound. He wondered if it would be Baines, the woman who had escorted
him into Fox Valley. He might be able to bargain with her, if so.

�� But now, it
was a tall woman with peculiar violet eyes and astonishingly ornate robes.
Harry blinked. He thought, so far, that Malfoy had chosen people who
deliberately seemed ordinary or even weak on the surface. This woman, though,
dressed in a way that practically proclaimed, �I�m a Dark wizard!�

�� Harry
chuckled weakly at his own thoughts, and then shook his head. If he found that
funny, he was further gone than he�d believed.

�� My name is
Mina,� the woman told him, and there could be no doubt after that that she saw
him. She even stood arrogantly, head
tilted slightly to the side as if she was examining Harry and finding him
severely wanting.

�� Haven�t
heard of you,� Harry said. His eyes drifted to the glass vials strapped to her
waist, and he grimaced. It looked like she was a Potions master. Great, just what I need. More complications.

�� I wouldn�t
have expected you to have heard of me,� Mina snapped, looking nettled all the
same. �I conduct most of my work in secret, and then strike from the shadows.�
She plucked a vial from her belt and hefted it thoughtfully in her hands for a
moment. �Would you like to see what I can do?�

�� Not
particularly,� Harry said. He had thought of a spell that might not stop her,
but would at least slow her down, and it was a minor one, meaning that he
retained enough strength to cast it. He muttered the spell under his breath,
and watched as the ground behind Mina trembled.

�� Too bad,�
Mina said, and her cheeks flushed. �I�m going to show you anyway.� She aimed
the vial at him and then tossed it.

�� Harry
rolled, his arms around his head in the approved way to defend himself against
exploding potions, or, more accurately, the shrapnel and flying bits of stone
they would unleash. He heard the vial break, but nothing explosive came out of
it.

�� He heard
Mina gasp in the next moment, as the stone he�d sent rocketing upwards plummeted
back down and hit her in the back of the head .She was groaning, but didn�t
sound as though she�d been knocked unconscious.

�� A pity.

�� Then Harry
felt a dizzying fatigue flood through his limbs, accentuating what was already
there until he wanted to weep from sheer fragility. He crashed to the earth,
trying to lift his head but unable to do so. His eyes closed inexorably. Sleep
hovered a breath away, and he thought, dimly, that he knew what the potion had
been meant to do now. Sleeping gas was more a Muggle invention than a wizarding
one, but then, so were observing mirrors.

�� I don�t think Malfoy disdains to learn from
Muggles when it will serve him. At least, the new one doesn�t.

�� Harry
recognized that his thoughts were irrelevant, and forced them back on track
with a jolt that physically hurt. When he stood, his head hanging and his
muscles aching, it felt like the kind of effort that he would make in a dream.
He turned, barely aware that his head dangled as if he were a bear disturbed
from its winter sleep.

�� Mina was
sitting up, but from the dazed way she moved and the frequent way she touched
her head, Harry thought she might have a concussion.

�� Good.

�� He couldn�t
afford the effort that it would take to cast a spell right now�literally could
not afford it. Even trying to think the incantation made his vision waver. He
began to run, lurching and weaving back and forth.

�� In
desperation, he turned to the one force that was sufficient to give him
strength right now. Deliberately, he recalled the smell of burning flesh and
the screams of the innocent as he condemned them to death.

�� The way he
would ultimately be condemning people to death if he left Fox Valley�s guests
in Malfoy�s control.

�� With guilt
breathing through him like a second wind, Harry trembled and tottered on. His
head began to feel better in a few minutes. He was clear from the influence of
the sleeping potion.

�� That was
good. He only had to keep going. He didn�t think he�d left Mina in any fit
state to choose rationally among her potions, either. He fixed his gaze before
him, on the swimming mountains, and went on.

�� He didn�t
see the way the stone suddenly opened beneath him. He knew it only when he felt
himself begin to fall.

*

�� Draco
lifted his head. He knew from the slight tickle in the back of his brain and
the vibration of the wooden fox in the glass case that someone was trying to
contact him. A moment later, he heard Lisa�s voice.

�� Lord
Malfoy, we�ve found Oliver. Stupefied. And Mina has a concussion, and Thalia a
broken leg. Luckily, Potter�s fallen and broken his leg, too.� Lisa�s voice was
bitter. �The only stroke of good luck we�ve had so far. What do you want us to
do, Lord?�

�� Draco let
his eyelids droop. His admiration for Potter, and his determination to own him
for multiple reasons, lapped him like the lazy heat from a newborn bonfire. He
didn�t have to consider the response that he sent back to Lisa for long.

�� I am coming to lead the hunt. Keep a guard
on Potter, both you and Victor, but do not attempt to engage him unless he
gives you no choice. I am coming.

�� He turned
and gathered up new bracelets, the wooden fox, and a small, silvery lens on a
copper chain that was a secret even from his most willing followers. Then he
called to another Marked one, Eve, to come and take over the office, and jogged
easily down the staircase.

�� His strides
lengthened, until he was running towards the head of the valley, the stored
magic in one of the bracelets strengthening his muscles. He wouldn�t tire from
this insane speed, no matter how long he kept it up. Draco laughed. He should
have used this strength to face Potter from the beginning. He liked to be
practical, and that would have been the practical thing to do.

�

�� But no, he
had wanted to challenge Potter and take him down with little assistance from
his enhanced magic, to prove how much he had changed in the years since Potter
had last seen him.

�� And he
could not really regret the impulse. Without it, he would have had no idea how
strong Potter was, or how much it would cost the Ministry to lose him.

�� Or how much it would gain me to have him.

�� He reached
the large boulder that marked the limit of territory guests were usually
permitted to wander, and paused a moment to feel out the Marks. Then he nodded
and turned north.

*

�� paigeey07:
Thank you!

�� k lave
demo: Thanks so much! In this case, Harry will have to work hard to figure out
how to make Draco recognize him as an equal, but Draco is already closer to
that than he is with his other Marked ones.

�� angelmuziq:
Thank you!

�� Katonie:
Thanks for reviewing.

�� mrequecky:
Thanks!

�� Candy_Flapjack:
Thanks for giving it a chance!

�� Thrnbrooke:
Thanks for reviewing.
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The Mark of the Fox