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A Determined Frame of Mind	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16811 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Twenty-Three—Day of Wonders

            “Where do you think you’re going, Draco?”

            Draco couldn’t quite keep his fingers from clenching down hard on the sleeve of the formal robe he’d just pulled on. Caught.

            He craned his head back to see Harry standing with his arms folded on the spiral staircase that led to the first floor, his head cocked to the side, a small smile on his lips. The smile was not amused. Draco thought of pointing out that Harry only wore a pair of trousers, therefore he couldn’t accompany Draco even if Draco was going somewhere, which he wasn’t, but decided that was rather counterproductive given the growing stormclouds in Harry’s eyes.

            “I was dressing for the meeting with Weasley and Granger.” Draco still had reserves of cool dignity to call upon, even when he was embarrassed. He called upon them now, raising his chin and fixing Harry with a haughty stare. Harry came down a few more steps, staring at him in return all the while. “God knows they won’t be impressed with your choice of lover. I thought I would at least impress them with my clothes.”

            Harry’s lips drew back slightly, and the smile vanished altogether. “Oh? You mean the meeting that isn’t until this afternoon? The meeting that we agreed I would attend, alone?”

            Draco rolled his eyes. “So I might have sent them an owl asking them to breakfast this morning in Diagon Alley,” he said. “So I might have intended to give them a short speech about what would happen should they hurt you again. What would have been the harm in that?”

            “Draco.”

            When Harry used that tone, as Draco had had ample opportunity to observe during their arguments of the last three days, he was past joking. So Draco dropped his own amusement and stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “They hurt you,” he whispered. “There needs to be vengeance for that, more than you would ever take.”

            “Draco,” Harry repeated, and stepped closer to him, resting one hand on his shoulder. Draco shivered. Even through the silk of his shirt, the heat of Harry’s palm felt delicious. They’d spent most of their time since Harry’s rescue in bed, but Draco’s body didn’t care; it wanted to return there immediately. “I don’t need you to take vengeance for me. I know you love me already. I also know that you’d defend me against my every enemy. I agree that I can’t just accept Hermione and Ron back into my life as if nothing had happened. But I don’t want you hurting them, either. Otherwise, they’ll probably never stop distrusting you and trying to persuade me to leave you.”

            “But you wouldn’t,” Draco said, glad he could keep his voice steady.

            “We know I won’t,” said Harry, and Draco bathed in the reassurance of that, in the fact that he and Harry were part of a “we” that didn’t include Weasley and Granger. “They don’t. And I’d rather not be a victim in the tug-of-war between you, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough of unnecessary pain.”

            Draco’s arms rose and enfolded Harry of their own free will. Harry embraced him back, gently rubbing up and down the middle of his spine. Draco couldn’t help a little thrust of his hips. Harry laughed, but didn’t return it.

            “You shagged me until I’ll have trouble sitting down this morning,” he muttered, and broke away from Draco. “Let me throw on a shirt. I don’t think I’ll need formal robes for this.”

            Draco blinked. “I thought you’d send an owl telling Weasley and Granger that you want to meet them this afternoon instead.”

            “They’ve probably already left,” Harry said calmly, turning to face the stairs again. Draco felt a surge of private glee at the visible mark on the back of his neck; Harry had listened to him, with some persuasion, and cut his hair short enough that it showed easily. “I’d rather not alienate them on our first meeting—that they remember—in some time. We’ll go to breakfast, and it can take the place of the afternoon meeting.” He paused and shot a glare at Draco over his shoulder. “But you’ll leave me alone with them when I tell you to.”

            Draco nodded slowly, his eyes fastened on his lover’s. Harry had shown a greater range of emotions in the past few days than in the month before that; he was finally aware, it seemed, that Draco wouldn’t leave him for being angry or upset or frightened. Draco would not have discouraged the half-fury on his face now for the world. “I promise.”

            Harry gave him an unabashedly sweet smile, and rushed up the stairs to dress. Draco leaned on the wall and consoled himself. At least he would be there for part of the meeting.

            And Harry had forbidden threats, but not threatening glares. Draco could make his point—that he would tear Weasley and Granger apart if they hurt Harry—almost as well silently as he could aloud.

*

            Harry came into the Eyrie slowly, his shoulder against Draco’s, his arm entwined with his, his eyes darting ahead as he searched out Ron and Hermione. They ought to stand out because of their hair if nothing else, but the Eyrie was so quiet and dim inside that it still took Harry several moments to spot them.

            Then he saw them, and a little thrum of tension ran through his body. Harry reminded himself whom he was there with and whom he was there to see, and told the tension to be quiet.

            Ron was shredding a napkin through his fingers, but he looked up at Hermione’s gesture, and then scrambled awkwardly to his feet. Hermione was standing already, eyes ablaze with tears, her arms reaching out. Harry supposed she had expected a sudden dash forwards and a hug.

            Part of Harry longed to give that to her. It would be easier than the slow approach he had promised himself he would use—easier for her, at least.

            But he would not pretend that everything could simply fall back into place the moment they saw each other again. If he started lying about what he felt now, to spare their feelings, he’d probably explode with the resentment at a later point in time and they’d have no idea why.

            Besides, Draco was there, squeezing his elbow sternly, as if to say that Harry had better show the mixed emotions Draco knew he felt.

            So Harry gave his friends a small smile and walked steadily forwards. By the time he reached the table, Hermione’s arms had dropped, and she was gazing searchingly into his eyes, as if she wanted to find the barrier there that had kept him away.

            Harry nodded slightly, the way he would to friendly acquaintances, and then said, “Ron. Hermione.”

            “Harry,” Hermione whispered, “we missed you.”

            That part was completely true no matter what the circumstances of the curse had been like. Harry gave her a wider smile in acknowledgment of that. “And I missed you,” he said. “Thanks for coming.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a server approaching them, and he reached for his chair.

            Draco pulled it out for him, and then hovered—though doubtless he would object if Harry used the word—until Harry sat down. Amused, Harry let him push it in. Draco immediately took the seat beside him and stretched his arm over Harry’s shoulders.

            Ron was staring from one to the other of them in total, shocked silence. Harry let him do it, then nodded to the server and murmured his assent to Draco’s preferred meal of kippers and porridge. It was far from the fancy fare the Eyrie would serve at lunch and dinner, as Draco had told him before they Apparated, but Harry knew they could get even better food at the Manor.

            “Harry,” Ron said at last when the man had gone, and Harry felt a surge of gratitude for Ron’s courage to step into the middle of complicated situations where anyone else would have trod cautiously. “What is this?” He nodded to the arm Draco had over Harry’s shoulders.

            “Draco is my lover,” Harry said steadily. “And the man I love, and my best friend. He discovered the truth about the Cassandra Curse before anyone else.” He shot a quick glance at Draco, just to make sure that he hadn’t changed his mind about what they’d agreed on before they came here. Draco flicked an eyelid, so Harry knew he could continue. “And he gave me a piece of his soul to tear through the curse. We’re connected in every way possible.” He paused to drink from the glass of water the server had already sat down. Draco’s hand landed on his a moment later, his fingers intertwining tightly with Harry’s.

            Hermione blinked several times, opened her mouth, but in the end said nothing. Ron was the one who turned red—with several complex emotions, Harry imagined—and blurted, “What about Ginny?”

            “Ginny has someone else, Ron,” Harry said. “I don’t blame her for that. As you told me a few days ago, she had to find someone else if she wanted to get married, and she thought I’d turned on her.” Ron’s eyes dropped away from his. “Draco is the one who fought for me, helped me, supported me—“

            “So it’s just gratitude?” Hermione cut in, with a glance at Draco.

            Draco’s hand clenched down on Harry’s, but Harry was perfectly capable of showing his own anger. He had realized his friends wouldn’t understand him falling in love with an old enemy. On the other hand, he didn’t require their approval.

            “No, Hermione, it’s not just gratitude,” he snapped. “Not unless you think that people regularly give each other pieces of their souls out of thanks.”



            “Harry, I didn’t mean—“

            “I meant every word I said for the past year,” Harry said. “I mean them now. I know it wasn’t easy for you when you realized what the Cassandra Curse was and what Scrimgeour had done to me, but remember that it was even less easy for me. I’m not going to defend my actions to you. I’m not going to let you criticize Draco and not respond. He’s mine, and I’m his, and we’re a part of each other’s lives from now on. That’s all there is to it.”

*

            Draco had not voiced it, but he had been somewhat afraid for Harry—one reason he had wanted to go early and confront Weasley and Granger alone. Harry was not weak or fragile any longer, but he had not met his friends since the ending of the curse, either. He might be overcome by their apologies, or feel he had to listen to them too much because of the echoes of their long friendship .Draco knew he wouldn’t be swayed by anything like that, and so he could defend Harry from himself.

            Now he saw that those fears were groundless.

            Harry spoke with quiet power in his voice, his eyes flashing as strongly as they did when Draco pinned him to the bed and bit his nipples. He looked both Weasley and Granger in the eye, and his face hardened when they said something stupid.

            He was fully committed to the defense of himself. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was standing more solidly on his own two feet than Draco knew he would have managed, were he the victim of the Cassandra Curse.

            Harry would be fine.

            Granger had gone silent after her ill-advised interruption, her eyes lowered and suspiciously red around the edges. Harry waited calmly, patiently, for the assault, one arm tucked around his chest and one stretched out so that his fingers could continue holding Draco’s.

            So, of course, the next comment had to come from Weasley.

            “I just—“ He waved a weak hand. “Harry, we’re sorry for what we did .But you know we were victims of the curse, right? You know that we couldn’t help it?” His face was tight and anxious, his eyes searching Harry’s.

            “I know,” said Harry, and smiled a little. Draco sighed inaudibly and wished the food would get here. No, he didn’t have to worry about Harry, but he could have wished that Harry shared just a little more of his taste for rubbing people’s mistakes in their faces.

            “Then—“ Weasley licked his lips. “I don’t understand why things can’t go back to the way they were before…?”

            Harry’s lips tightened. Then he glanced at Draco and said, “Love, do you mind stepping outside for a moment? I promise that I won’t let your food get cold.”

            Draco held his eyes, telling Harry wordlessly that he had better call Draco back inside if Weasley attacked him with magic or tried to guilt him into something he didn’t want to agree to, and then shoved back his chair without a word. He stepped outside the Eyrie into the bustle of Diagon Alley and tilted back his head so that he could study the wispy clouds still clinging around the sun.

            Harry had quite obviously changed his mind about how much of the conversation Draco would be allowed to be present at, but he still had a finely tuned sense of how much his lover could tolerate. Draco would probably have snapped at Weasley in a moment.

            It was better to stand out here, and watch the passerby who would never know anything of the great love he and Harry shared with some pity, and be ready to rush inside in an instant if wands came out.

*

            Harry faced Ron. He made sure to keep his expression even and his voice smooth and calm, especially since the server had returned a moment after Draco left and put their food down on the table.

            “Because we’ve all changed,” he said. “I haven’t really been part of your lives for the past year, and you haven’t been part of mine. And—“ He took a deep breath, his anger running like illness through his veins for a moment, and spoke when he thought he could sound rational. “The last time we met, you punched me. Look me in the eye and tell me that things will be exactly the same after that.”

            “We were under a curse,” Hermione whispered, more as if she didn’t want him to forget than as if she were protesting his conclusions. That was the only thing that kept Harry from snapping at her.

            “I know that,” said Harry. “And so was I, for that matter. But this was no ordinary curse, and it won’t have ordinary consequences. Scrimgeour’s probably going to be tried and kicked out of office.” The Daily Prophet’s writers were turning themselves inside out with joy over that, he thought with some amusement, and his handing the story to them ensured plenty of praises of Harry Potter. For some mad reason, Draco was keeping all the clippings of the story he could find and every photograph of Harry that appeared. “I’ve learned that I can fall in love with a man—“

            “That’s another thing,” Ron interrupted bluntly. “Are you gay?”

            “I don’t know,” Harry said calmly. He wouldn’t explain about curved and slanted yet, and maybe not ever. That was a private and special thing for him and Draco. “I didn’t fall in love with several men, just with Draco. I probably would have fallen in love with a female Psyche-Diver who took the trouble to find out about the curse and gave me a piece of her soul, too.”

            “That’s it, Harry,” Hermione said earnestly, leaning forwards and putting her hand on his. It felt peculiar, but Harry suspected that was simply because he’d gone without touch for so long and then received only Draco’s. “We just want you to be happy and safe, and I don’t know if you can be with Malfoy. I mean, patients falling in love with Healers happens all the time, but not in a healthy way.”

            Harry turned his head slightly, to give her the full benefit of his long, slow, incredulous glare. Hermione blushed and lowered her eyes again.

            “My relationship with Draco is not open to question,” Harry told them. “He gave me a piece of his soul, Hermione. He didn’t just heal me. He didn’t just wash his hands of me when the going against the curse proved to be difficult. He’s the most important person in the world to me, and always will be. I understand the source of your questions, but if you really trust and love me you’ll accept my word that I’m safe and happy now. At last.”

            He paused, ate a few of his kippers, and then added, “I’ll be happier if we can be friends again, of course.”

            “That’s why we’re here, mate,” Ron muttered, and briefly reached across the table to squeeze his arm.

            Harry nodded. “But we’ll have to work at this friendship. It can’t be just the same. It won’t be effortless. Memories of old times aren’t enough. I’ll be cautious around you at first; I won’t be able to help that. It took a lot just to come here today.” Of course, part of that had been his helpless delight in the fact that the Cassandra Curse was gone and random strangers wouldn’t spit after him in the street, but his wariness towards Ron and Hermione was greater. “I want to know if you’re willing to work at it. If you’re not, then let’s just part ways here and now. I’d rather live my life without you than constantly do all the labor.”

            Hermione blinked, the tears gathering on the edges of her lashes. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “I—we love you. We missed you so much. Yes, I’m willing to work at it.” She glanced sideways at Ron.

            Ron coughed. Harry thought he might be chasing away tears of his own. “Of course, mate.”

            “And Draco?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “I have to tell you, if you can’t treat him civilly, there won’t be many meals like this and no visits to the Burrow. I won’t go where he’s not welcome.”

            “We can try,” Hermione said firmly. “If he makes the effort, too.”

            “Mum and my brothers will take some time to understand,” Ron acknowledged. “But they’ll learn to do it. They love you, too, Harry.”

            Harry gave them a cautious smile, and then reached over the table. Their hands closed firmly around his.

            It wasn’t flawless, he thought. But it was a beginning.

*

            Draco turned at a flash of red hair down the street. His first thought was that one of the Weasley brothers had found his “invitation” to Harry’s friends and had come to make sure Draco intended no treachery.

            But then he made out the slender, feminine body beneath the hair, and he stood straighter, growling quietly to himself.

            Ginny Weasley was smaller than he remembered her—not that he had ever paid that much attention to her at school. She had mostly been important to him as taunting material for Blaise, who had been ashamed of liking a blood traitor. Draco reckoned she had grown up well enough for people who liked that sort of thing, who could look past the hideous hair and the clean but unfashionable robes she was wearing. She walked directly towards him, eyes fixed on his face, and Draco had no doubt that she meant to accost him.

            “Weasley,” he said deliberately when she came close enough to hear him. She might be uncivilized, but she could not make him shout. Draco knew his tone was cold enough to carve icebergs, and he saw her flinch a little at it.

            But she nodded to him instead of running away, which Draco had to admit was a bit disappointing. “Malfoy.” She glanced at the Eyrie. “Harry’s in there, I think?”

            “Yes,” said Draco. “And if you’ve come to grovel before him, or shriek at him like the Hogwarts Express and demand he come back to you, then you should know I’m his lover.”

            He sounded too defensive, too possessive. He knew it. But Ginny Weasley was a threat in a way none of Harry’s friends ever could be. Harry had only ever had her as a lover, he’d confessed a few nights ago, before he came to Draco, and there were seven years of memories between them. Draco knew that he wouldn’t lose what he had with Harry easily, but he also knew that Harry was too much of a believer in abstract, idealized notions like truth and justice, or else why would he have disdained vengeance on Scrimgeour and his friends? If the baby Weasel begged and cried enough, then she might convince Harry to feel sorry for her and spend time with her. And Harry might still be the kind of person who could be snared out of pity.

            Weasley just gazed at him evenly. Then she said, “I’ll have you know Harry Potter was the great love of my life.”

            Draco said nothing. To say he felt the same would not only be crass—he could express it in much better words than she’d chosen—but to share an intimacy with her that she didn’t deserve.

            “And I know that we’ve both moved on, and I know why.” Weasley took a deep breath. “And I understand that it can’t ever go back to the way it was before. The minute the Minister appeared in front of me and confessed his crime, I knew. I—think I felt it more keenly than Ron and Hermione, because I’d lived with him longer and closer than they had.

            “I’m sorry that things fell out the way they did. I wish I could have acted better. And if I had married Harry, I would have been happy, I think.” Her eyes glistened for a moment. “But that’s the way I wish things had happened, not the way things are. I just came to tell Harry I’ll always be his friend, and that I wish him well.” She glanced sideways at Draco. “In whatever he does, and with whoever he chooses to spend his life with.”

            Draco just stared at her in disbelief. She looked back as if she had not said something incredible, and then turned to the side.

            Harry had come out of the Eyrie, and was looking warily back and forth between them.

            “Ginny?” he whispered.

            “Harry.” She nodded, took his hand, and leaned forwards to kiss his cheek. Draco growled under his breath, but the gesture really did seem to be one of farewell, the one his mother had given him the last time he saw her, not a caress from a lover. “I was just telling Malfoy that I wanted to wish you well. And that I hope we can be friends now?” She bit her lip and seemed uncertain for the first time as she met his eyes.

            Harry’s smile broadened and softened into one he’d never given Draco. Draco shifted uneasily from foot to foot. I’m glad he has his friends, he reassured himself. I’m glad that they give him something I can’t.

            That didn’t prevent his pride from stinging a little, though.

            “Of course, Ginny,” Harry said quietly. “It’ll take some work—“

            “I knew that,” she cut in.

            “And maybe it’ll take me some time to forgive you completely, but—“ Harry shrugged. “I’d like that.”

            Weasley smiled one more time, flicked a quick glance and a briefer nod at Draco, and then turned and walked down the street. Draco put an arm around Harry’s waist, only to realize that Harry had already reached for him. Together, they watched her go.

            “This is a day of wonders,” Draco complained under his breath. “That I’m forced to respect a Weasley, of all people, and the one who would have married you to boot.”

            “I think it’s perfectly natural,” Harry said. “Ginny always did have one quality her brothers didn’t: the minute she makes up her mind, she acts on it. Ron will dither around and avoid doing anything for as long as he possibly can—it took him years to realize he loved Hermione and then to do something about it—and the twins plan things out, and Percy would rather that someone else do the acting. But Ginny…” He shook his head.

            There was too much admiration in his voice for Draco’s liking. He caught Harry close and kissed him. Harry went with it willingly, not seeming to care about the people in Diagon Alley who paused to stare.

            “Just remember you’re mine,” Draco murmured, pulling back.

            “Not easy to forget,” said Harry, and motioned towards the back of his neck. “But, you know, it’s hard for anyone to notice this. I want some more visible sign.”

            Draco had to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he had convinced himself his voice was normal. “How should we do that?”

            Harry smiled, and his hand on Draco’s cheek was gentle. “I had an idea.”

*

            Dezra: Yes. The details of the wider political situation will be in the Epilogue.

            Thrnbrooke: Harry does still want to be friends with Ron and Hermione. He just doesn’t want them to think that it’ll be all sunshine and flowers.

            Mangacat: Thanks for reviewing!

            McAbacus: Well, this is the first installment of the last double dosage, and the first installment of the end. ;)

            LadyKatie: In this case, Harry’s main purpose was getting a rise out of Draco. ;) But I do think it shows progress that he doesn’t have to label himself straight any more to avoid panicking.
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A Determined Frame of Mind