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The Serenity of His Rage	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Twenty-Two—Speaking of the Future

            A soft muttering that seemed to be happening right in his ear woke Harry up. He turned his head, blinking. His eyes were always blurry in the morning, whether or not he had his glasses on. But he thought he would see Draco if he was up.

            No. Draco still sprawled across the bed, sometimes next to him and sometimes on top of him. He was breathing so deeply that Harry thought it would probably be hours before he woke. He trailed gentle fingers along the top of Draco’s scalp and then turned his head a little more.

            There was a hunched shape standing next to the bed. Harry hissed under his breath. He knew that shape even without his glasses.

            “What do you want, Kreacher?” Harry asked tiredly. It wasn’t like the elf to mutter and grumble this softly. Maybe it was Draco’s presence, since Draco was part Black, that had made him refrain from waking them up.

            The elf stopped speaking and glared at him as if Harry hadn’t been supposed to wake up. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. It would only make Kreacher more upset if he did understand it.

            “You have it,” Kreacher said.

            “I don’t know what you mean.” Harry found himself shifting automatically as if to cover Draco from the elf’s sight, and then stopped. Since when did house-elves care about things like whether a human was naked or not? Even Dobby and Winky had never showed that they cared.

            “Kreacher has seen it.” Kreacher’s fingertips scrabbled for an instant at the blankets on the bed, and then he leaned forwards and stared obsessively at Harry. “The locket with Master’s handwriting in it.”

            Harry caught a painful breath that made him cough, and ruined all his fine attempts to keep Draco asleep. Draco twisted and muttered next to him, and then sat upright, shaking his head as he brushed his hair behind his ears.

            “What is it?” And then, even in the midst of his question, Draco’s eyes found him, and he gave Harry a private smile that was sweet and wistful. Harry found his hand and held it. Nothing else existed for a minute but the two of them. Not Kreacher and not the Horcruxes and not the war and not what Harry thought he’d just found out about the handwriting in the locket. Nothing except Draco’s soft breath and the tremble of his fine, pale golden eyelashes.

            Kreacher brought him back to earth with a little bump. “The locket with Master’s handwriting!” The elf was clutching his ears and rocking back and forth. “Kreacher was seeing it!”

            Draco caught his breath in turn. It didn’t sound as painful as Harry’s had been. “Your master?” he whispered, and then turned and shook his head at Harry. “I should have thought of it before. Those initials with the B at the end. It could have been Black.”

            “Could have been, but that doesn’t mean it had to be,” Harry said, anxious to keep Draco from blaming himself, even if it was mildly and for silly reasons. “There are lots of other wizarding families that have last names starting with B. Like Bones.”

            Draco only shook his head and looked at Kreacher again. “Your master,” he said. “What was his first name?”

            “Regulus.” Kreacher had stopped rocking and was staring at them in what Harry thought was hope, maybe because they hadn’t immediately sent him away and told him he couldn’t have the locket. “He was being Regulus Black. He is being dead.”

            “Well, that’s not a surprise,” Draco muttered. He sounded shaken. “Harry, you know—I mean, I know the history of my mother’s family pretty well, but did your godfather ever talk about his brother?”

            “Only once that I can remember,” Harry said, shivering a little at the intensity of the memory. It was as if he was standing with Sirius in front of the worn Black family tapestry again. “But yeah. He said he was a Death Eater and believed in blood purity, and he was their parents’ favored son.”

            “Master Black,” whispered Kreacher, and his hands clutched at his ears again. “Master Black was betraying the Dark Lord. He was only telling Kreacher.” He lifted his head, and one eye glared at them under a mess of ear hair. “Only Kreacher.”

            And he probably wonders how in the world we wound up with the locket, Harry finished silently. He exchanged a look with Draco, who hadn’t turned away from Kreacher until now. Maybe we can make a bargain with him.

            “We found our way to the locket differently,” he told Kreacher, trying to feel his way carefully and find the right words. “I mean, not the way your master took.” It had to be that, or either Dumbledore would have been careless or Regulus would have been more prepared. “We took the fake locket he left there—”

            Kreacher cut him off with a wail. “The locket was to be staying there!” he said, and stamped his foot. “It was to be staying! Nasty, dirty, filthy Mudbloods! Thieves!”

            “No, no,” said Harry, speaking before Draco could. Draco might have had better words, but he might also have said the wrong thing. Harry only knew for sure what he could feel in his own throat. Even the bond was flat with Draco’s shock, revealing nothing much right now. “I mean—Kreacher, there was another locket that your master took away from the Dark Lord, right? Where is it? We have to destroy that one before we can give you Regulus’s locket. We have to exchange them.”

            The bond gleamed abruptly, like obsidian catching the sun, with Draco’s respect. Harry grinned at him and faced Kreacher again, who had hesitated and was tilting his head back and forth, eyes turning from one to the other of them.

            “You will be giving Kreacher Master’s locket if he is letting you destroy the other locket?” Kreacher asked suspiciously.

            “Yes, we will,” said Harry, recklessly committing himself. He didn’t know if that was such a great idea when he hadn’t talked to Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore, but on the other hand, Dumbledore wanted the real Horcrux as much as they did. Maybe more. He probably wouldn’t care too much about how Harry had got it as long as it was there.

            Kreacher disappeared. Harry sat up and turned to put his glasses and his shirt on.

            “And you think he’ll bring it to us?”

            Harry paused and looked at Draco. “Do you have some reason to distrust him?”

            “Only that he betrayed your godfather.” Draco would have looked like Sirius at the moment, Harry thought, if his hair was black. He’d raked his hand through it until it was standing on end. “I don’t want him to get the chance to do the same to you.”

            He reached out and encircled Harry with both arms, and Harry leaned against him with a small sigh. Then Draco muttered into his ear, “Especially now that I know what a good blowjob you can give. It wouldn’t be right to let you die without getting to experience that at least once more.”

            Harry rolled his eyes and shoved him away. “Git. Anyway. You can deal with him, if you’re worried. I’m the one who can technically command him since I inherited the property, but you’re a Black by blood. He might listen to you better.”

            “And I have the naturally more commanding personality.”

            Harry would have stuck his tongue out in response, but that would only have proven Draco’s point. He settled for lying back with a snort and muttering, “Go ahead, do what you want.”

            Draco smiled and faced the spot where Kreacher had reappeared, clutching a long golden chain that presumably had a locket at the end of it. Harry couldn’t actually see the locket, since it was wrapped up in Kreacher’s hands, but he sucked in his breath anyway. There was suddenly a feeling like a greasy, heavy darkness in the air.

            He caught Draco’s eye and nodded.

            Draco nodded back and faced Kreacher, looking perfectly arrogant even half-naked. “You know what we can do to you if you’ve tricked us?” he asked.

            “What would Master Malfoy be doing?” Kreacher glanced from the locket in his hands up to Draco. Harry felt the bond thrum, and tensed a little. They might lose their chance if Draco acted too arrogant.

            “I would make sure that your head never hung on the wall with your dead ancestors the way you want it to,” Draco said.

            Harry started to sit up, but the threat made Kreacher whimper and crouch on the floor. “Master Malfoy is being cruel,” he whimpered. He sounded as though he didn’t know whether or not to be happy about that.

            “Yes, I am.” The bond was bright with something like radiance now, and Draco never wavered. He sat up and stared at Kreacher down his nose. Harry shivered, remembering the way that would have infuriated him once, if Draco had done it to him in Hogwarts, and had to cross his legs to control his new reaction.

            “I will do what must be done,” Draco said. “The locket you have must be destroyed. The one we have must be given to you—unless you’re trying to trick us.”

            Kreacher shook for a few more minutes. Harry was glad Draco was there to squeeze his shoulder when he started to open his mouth to respond to Kreacher’s pleas. They had to stay silent and let Kreacher convince himself. Intellectually, Harry knew that.

            It was just damn hard to remember in practice.

            “Have you made up your mind?” Draco finally asked, with a voice so snooty that it sounded as though he was talking through his nose.

            Kreacher stood up and shuffled towards them. He was staring at the locket in his hands, which looked so much like the one they’d found in the cave that Harry blinked.

            But the sense of Dark magic he could feel around this one continued to make his bones ache.

            Draco didn’t seem to be in any doubt, but Harry still felt the bond relax from a taut state as Kreacher laid the locket in Draco’s hand. Draco nodded and put it on the bed, then reached for his wand. “Accio fake locket,” he said in a bored voice.

            Harry heard a few loud, rattling bangs, as though the locket had had to pass through a few doors to get to them. But once it was there, Kreacher reached out with a twitching hand and grabbed hold of the chain, not even letting it fly to Draco on the bed.

            “This is the one Master put in the cave,” Kreacher whispered. He kissed the locket with such a loud smack that Harry saw a few trickles of saliva run down the side. “It is the one he was putting there, with Kreacher watching him.”

            Harry started to open his mouth, but maybe Draco thought this wasn’t the time to question Kreacher, because he only said haughtily, “I doubt you want to spend time around us, and we don’t want to spend time around you. You may go.”

            Kreacher looked at Draco worshipfully and then bowed once before he vanished. In the silence, Draco turned and lifted the locket with a spell, shuddering as he hung it around one of the bedposts.

            “You know Hermione and Dumbledore are going to be a little upset when they find out what you did with the fake locket,” Harry said mildly. “Especially since Kreacher probably won’t give it back.”

            “Granger will come round.”

            Harry had to grin at the way Draco completely failed to mention Dumbledore, and then Draco turned his head and beamed, and Harry’s breath caught.

            “Besides,” Draco added, “we just found the first real Horcrux. We should be able to ask for whatever the fuck we want, and Dumbledore should give it to us.”

            Harry cleared his throat. “He might not if you put it that way.”

            Draco shrugged and reached out as if he was going to touch the Horcrux, but he pulled his hand back at the last moment. Harry couldn’t help but approve. “Then I’ll put it another way. But the fact remains, we have one of them.” He looked up, and his eyes and the bond had the same luster. “And nobody had to die for it.”

            Harry wanted to look away, but he told himself a second later how silly that was. Draco didn’t think Harry should be sorry for having a Horcrux in his head, unless he decided to embrace dying and didn’t do something about the soul-bond first. Or tell Draco. Or maybe embraced it at all.

            “I don’t want to die,” he said, and leaned out to slide a hand down Draco’s face until he reached the top of his ear. “Especially after last night.”

            Draco flushed, but his smile was vicious with delight. “Good,” he said, and reached up to encircle Harry’s wrist with two fingers. “And what are you going to do if Dumbledore tells you that you must?”

            “Find another way.”

            “If it doesn’t exist?”

            “We don’t know that yet.”

            “I know.” Draco shifted a little, folding his legs as if the bed had suddenly poked him with a spring. “I’m only trying to come up with some of the objections that Dumbledore will probably make.”

            “Oh.” Harry hesitated once, and then committed himself. “Then we’ll do something to the rest of the Horcruxes, and you and I will be the ones to make the decision. To sever the soul-bond—”

            “That’s never going to be a decision I make,” Draco said pleasantly. “I just want to tell you that right now.” His fingers had tensed on Harry’s wrist until Harry winced, knowing they would leave a bruise, and even then, he thought Draco only released him because he felt the pain through the bond. “There’s no way to force me to forsake you, Harry. To sever the bond, or walk away from you and let you get yourself killed, or stand back while you do something risky. So give up the notion.”

            “Then I don’t know,” Harry said, exasperated and tender both at once. He wanted to lean forwards and kiss Draco, and he wanted to have a very serious conversation about how some things were worth more than his individual life—only he knew Draco would never listen to him even if he did. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if Dumbledore tells me the only way to end the Horcrux in me is to die.”

            “Good,” Draco said, which startled Harry so much that he stared at him. But the bond was placid and rippling with light like a lake in the sunset, and Draco beamed at him and reached up to cup Harry’s chin. “That was all I wanted to hear. If you have a plan, I want to know about it.”

            “And otherwise?” Harry whispered, because he could almost hear the words lingering behind the ones Draco had actually spoken.

            Draco kissed him. “We find the way forward together.”

*

            “I am—impressed with how you managed to retrieve this Horcrux, Mr. Malfoy.”

            Draco held back a vicious chuckle, and simply smiled at Dumbledore. He wondered if Harry could see how hard the man was struggling not to say something else, something that wouldn’t be praise.

            From the amused looks Harry was darting at him, he at least knew what Draco was feeling, if not all the nuances.

            “Who would have thought that simply asking a house-elf for the locket would be effective?” Dumbledore marveled, picking up the Horcrux and turning it over.

            Harry twitched when he did that. Draco hadn’t missed it. He didn’t think Dumbledore did, either. But with how carelessly and ceaselessly he manipulated people, he probably didn’t even realize that doing that made Harry more twitchy and on his guard around him—or at least he would deny it if asked.

            “We never would have found it if Kreacher hadn’t approached us first,” Draco said. “And I have to give a large part of the credit to Harry.” He ignored the way Harry turned towards him and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed. This was true no matter how many people it surprised. “Harry is the one who taught me to listen to house-elves. I’m used to just dismissing them as irrelevant. But Kreacher approached us, and, well.” He gave a modest little shrug and leaned back, most of his attention on Dumbledore and part on the bond.

            The only problem with that was that he hadn’t spared any attention for Harry’s friends, and he jumped like a startled deer when Granger spoke. “You should have been paying attention to house-elves all along, Malfoy. Maybe it would have prevented you from getting into as much trouble as you did.”

            Draco bit back the reply he wanted to give to that, and saw Dumbledore give Granger a weary look. It would be wonderful if he was as tired of her scolding and lectures as Draco.

            “Maybe I should have,” Draco said, and just looked back at Dumbledore again.

            “The most powerful secrets are so often found in the most humble of creatures,” Dumbledore whispered. He sounded as if he was talking to himself. He turned the Horcrux locket over once more and set it back on the dining room table. “There only remains the question of how to destroy it.”

            “How did you destroy the diary?” Draco asked at once. “And the ring?”

            Dumbledore visibly shuddered and touched his blackened hand. “The ring was the result of carelessness on my part,” he murmured. “We would not want to use the same method.”

            “Well, I used the basilisk fang on the diary,” Harry offered. “So basilisk venom is probably the way to do it.”

            “We must take the Horcrux to the school, then,” said Dumbledore, and he seemed to sit up and smile more strongly. Draco eyed him in hostility. He didn’t like the idea of anything that would make Dumbledore do that. “The basilisk fangs that you left in the Chamber are the only ones I know of, Harry.”

            “If you knew about them, why didn’t you use them on the ring?”

            Dumbledore ignored him, which was a convenient habit for him, Draco thought. Granger and Weasley didn’t look anything less than blindly trusting, of course. They only nodded, and Granger said, “Do you think if we found basilisk venom for sale in an apothecary we could trust it, Professor Dumbledore?”

            “I would be afraid that it had been diluted, Miss Granger. But there is no reason we need fear going back to Hogwarts. The basilisk Harry killed is easily within our reach.”

            And you want us back at Hogwarts for some reason, Draco thought, watching him. Is it only because you feel safe there in a way you don’t elsewhere? Because you think I won’t dare return given the way I had to flee, and you think you can get Harry alone?

            If that was the reason, then Draco was more determined to go along than before. He wouldn’t leave Harry to Dumbledore’s possibly nonexistent mercy.

            Or rather, he feels mercy for everyone else, but none for Harry.

            “Mr. Malfoy, will you be returning to your father’s house?” Dumbledore asked then, making it plain what his gambit was.

            Draco let his eyes widen and his mouth curve in a little smile. “But why should I, sir? I was wounded in the battle with the Inferi, and I’ve risked as much as anyone to destroy the locket Horcrux. It would be a comfort to me to watch it dissolve into sludge, or melted metal, or whatever happens to a locket when it’s stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

            Dumbledore gave him a long, steady stare. Draco didn’t quite meet it, since he was looking at Dumbledore’s nose instead of his eyes. Catch him meeting a Legilimens gaze for gaze.

            “You don’t need to go, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore. “Since you were wounded, you probably need some rest.”

            “He got a lot of rest last night,” Harry said. He casually stretched out one arm so that it rested along the back of Draco’s chair.

            Dumbledore sighed. “Then you can come along to the Chamber of Secrets with the rest of us, Mr. Malfoy. But I’m afraid that the sight of a dead basilisk isn’t as romantic or glorious as you may have thought.”

            “Harry knows better than to try to romance me with something like that.”

            Dumbledore gave Draco another look that suggested he didn’t understand everything Draco was doing. Draco widened his eyes back, just as delighted at that. And finally Dumbledore turned away and said softly, “Very well. Since we have one of the Horcruxes and a good idea about the means to destroy it, I see no objection.”

            Harry nodded and stayed silent until they were back in their bedroom—or his, Draco thought. Then he flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. “What objection could there be, for Merlin’s sake? You got the Horcrux!”

            “We got the Horcrux,” Draco pointed out, stretching out and curling around Harry as much as he could while Harry was sprawled in that undignified posture. The bond swept back and forth over them in a smug, warm sea, but with an edge to the waves that Draco suspected was Harry. “You were the one who made the original bargain.”

            Harry didn’t dispute that, which Draco thought was another good sign that he had changed. He didn’t have to be modest with Draco, and he knew it now. “Dumbledore’s still acting like he distrusts you,” he mumbled, turning his nose so it was buried in Draco’s collarbone.

            “He does.”

            Harry blinked at him. “But why?”

            Draco shrugged and offered up what he thought was the real reason, if not a good one. “He dislikes and distrusts Slytherins. He doesn’t think that I’m a good influence on you. The soul-bond didn’t go the way it was supposed to. I only joined your side in the first place to get my father out, and for revenge. Those aren’t good motives—”

            “Whatever brought you to me is a good motive.”

            Harry’s eyes were burning, and Draco felt a dry lump in his throat. He swallowed it and smiled, because he suspected they were about to go on to something a lot more interesting than a conversation about Dumbledore. “Really?”

            “Yes,” Harry snapped, and pulled Draco on and over and down into a kiss.

            Draco was right. What they did next was a lot more interesting.

*

            Kain: Without the soul-bond? Most likely not.

            Neither Snape nor Dumbledore are paragons. But since we get Snape’s POV, I think that makes him more sympathetic to most readers.

            SP777: Severus agrees, believe me!
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The Serenity of His Rage