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The Long Defeat	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30612 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-Three—Goings-On
            “I am not to hear what goings-on occur in my own house, I suppose.”
            Though Lucius’s voice was aggrieved, Narcissa knew that he wasn’t truly angry, because he would have come in cold silence and sat at the head of the table if that was the case. Instead, she could look up at him, seated directly across from her, and reply with mild warmth, “I knew that you would approve of the letter, or I would not have sent it.”
            “You did, did you?”
            Narcissa used her napkin to conceal her smile. Another sign of her husband’s true feelings was that he had not started his complaints until Draco and Harry had left the table. He would have spoken out with cold anger if he felt that way, not caring if he hurt Draco’s feelings or not. “Yes, I did. You want the goblins to pay for having put you in this uncomfortable position.”
            Lucius developed a great interest in the half-eaten contents of his plate.
            “I know you do,” said Narcissa, and reached across the table to clasp his hand. Lucius said nothing, but turned to hold her fingers when she rubbed his wedding ring. “And so do I. I enjoyed writing that letter as I have enjoyed nothing since we first decided to pay the life-debt to Harry.”
            “You call him by his first name, then.” Lucius spoke the words with as much flat control as Narcissa thought he would be able to muster in front of the goblins themselves, but then his exasperation boiled over. “You, too?”
            “I speak it for different motives than Draco, of course,” Narcissa said, placidly agreeing without agreeing. “I have already met the man I am in love with.”
            At least this time Lucius’s returning exasperated glance was tinted with fondness. Narcissa smiled and caressed his hand again.
            “But for one of the same motives,” Narcissa continued. She wanted Lucius to understand this, before he put his foot in his mouth in a way that would hurt their son as well as their guest. “Because I want to understand the man Draco has chosen to share his life.”
            “Boy,” Lucius muttered, and once again his plate was the recipient of a glare.
            Narcissa shook her head. “If you believe he is a child after what he has gone through, then I must accuse you of having no eyes.”
            Lucius tightened his grip on her hand a moment, but in a way that meant he didn’t agree with her yet. “Draco is young. I know that he is—devoted to the boy. Infatuated with him. I have agreed to a truce with Mr. Potter that he understands, as well. But I see no reason yet to assume that our association with him must be permanent.”
            “Draco’s devotion does not abate,” said Narcissa quietly. “He was infatuated with people and things, yes, and he always let them pass from his mind quickly.” She and Lucius shared a smile then, though it seemed against Lucius’s will. Narcissa knew they were both remembering some of the brooms and toys and friends that Draco had once passionately insisted he couldn’t live without. “But for how long have we been hearing about Harry Potter?”
            Lucius looked off into the distance, at the wall.
            “Harry told me that you discussed some of this with him,” Narcissa said. She and Harry had spoken after Harry had sent the letter, and he had told her that much. “He said you understood each other. Why this reverse now?”
            “Because I spoke to him alone, and I had not seen, or not noticed, the way that he interacted with Draco.” Lucius would have stood and prowled the room, as was his habit when this disturbed, but Narcissa squeezed his hand and kept him with her. “I had not seen Draco practically climb into the boy—Potter’s lap. Is he going to have the respect that he needs to command, if someone else sees him acting like that? It seems that we brought Potter into our house as a slave, but Draco is the one who wears the collar in that relationship.”
            Narcissa’s eyes widened, and then she laughed.
            Her husband glared at her, but Narcissa shook her head and held up one hand, and Lucius subsided enough to listen. It was partially because he liked to listen to her laughter, Narcissa knew, and less because he respected her words. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he paused.
            “Draco is the one who kept pushing for the connection between them when Harry would have been content to ignore it,” she said, when she could speak. “It’s true that Harry has powerful magic and he could bring the world to kneel at his feet if he wanted. He could do that using the power of his name alone, I think, without the added impetus of his magic. But Draco is the one who wanted to be with him, and he is the one who adds the energy and drive to their relationship. His was the idea of vengeance on the goblins, if not the pure impulse. I don’t think you need to fear for him.”
            “I hope so,” said Lucius, and did some more frowning that he appeared to think was impressive. “I told Draco that I would tolerate this relationship of his. But not if it makes him less a Malfoy.”
            “In what way is he disdaining your lessons?” Narcissa asked. “He understands his own desires and is trying to get what he wants. In a way that doesn’t demean his name or himself. And he has found a partner who will stand beside him, a partner he can be proud of. I don’t think any of that is a problem, or untrue to his heritage.”
            Lucius sighed again. “Our son is going to end up with Potter, isn’t he?”
            “At least for a time,” said Narcissa, and petted his arm with her free hand. “Perhaps it won’t last forever in terms of them being lovers. But at the very least, they’ll be connected for the rest of their lives, I think. And that’s not even talking about the life-debts that bind them. Harry hasn’t repaid the one he owes me. And there may still be one that he owes Draco.”
            Lucius closed his eyes tightly. He looked a little ill. “As long as I need not—see anything of it.”
            Narcissa mercifully changed the subject, while silently reminding herself to tell Draco to practice strong locking charms.
*
            "I think we have to talk about this."
            Draco hunched his shoulders and stared harder at the book in front of him, the one that described cases that sounded a little like Harry's--mostly wizards who had been through some great betrayal or trauma of war that made their magic curdle and turn even more dangerous. "It's okay," he said, and turned a page. "It's not like I'm afraid that you're going to use that magic on me, and you're gaining much more control with the business rituals."
            "I didn't mean that you were afraid I was going to use the magic on you deliberately," Harry said, and his heavy hand fell on Draco's shoulder. "But I don't want you to be afraid of even an accident."
            Draco sighed and turned around. "What can I say?" he asked, tilting his head back so that Harry's hand could slide into his hair. "I know you care for me. I know that you have much better control now of your power than you did."
            "But?" Harry was standing behind Draco, massaging his neck. Draco decided he didn't like that, and turned around so that they were face to face.
            "But I know that you also are so much more powerful than I can even begin to comprehend. Sometimes I worry about what that means for me."
            Harry, to Draco's pleasure, took some time to think about it, instead of immediately snapping that he didn't understand what Draco meant and why he would even be worried. "You're worried that you might slip into my shadow?" he asked, and the grip of his hand was even tighter on Draco's shoulder.
            "Exactly," Draco whispered, and leaned against him. "Like Weasley."
            "Ron is not in my shadow," said Harry, and he sounded genuinely angry. Draco rolled his eyes. It was true that he didn't often see signs of jealousy in Weasley, but they were there, and Harry was the one who ought to be paying enough attention to his best friend to see them, instead of Draco having to tell him about them.
            But Draco didn't want to have an argument about Weasley right now, so he said, "That's what I'm afraid of, though. That I'll become completely of no account. That, that you might decide to leave me and be with someone who can challenge you more, or match you more. Magically, anyway." He wasn't about to say that he thought he was really stupider than Harry or not a good match for him in other ways.
            "I don't want that." Harry's voice had lowered to that intense whisper Draco was accustomed to hear when Harry really meant something, was really concentrating on something. "What I want is you, alive, healthy, and ready to walk beside me."
            "But why?" Draco hated how needy he sounded, but at least he and Harry were alone, without an audience, even his father. Especially his father, he thought, and tilted his head further back to hold Harry's eyes. "What do I have that you can't find elsewhere?"
            Harry stared at him for a second as though wondering what he meant, and then began to smile. He bent down and stared into Draco's eyes.
            "You were the one who approached me first," he said. "You didn't do it because you're impressed by my Boy-Who-Lived credentials. You're the one who told me about revenge through living well, and through getting back at the goblins this way."
            Draco listened in breathless silence, and then began breathing on purpose. He needed to hear this, yes, but there was no point in making it more dramatic than it really was.
            "And you're the one who can play my master in these charades that we put on, but still treat me respectfully behind closed doors," said Harry, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You haven't got hung up on your family traditions or tried to make me behave in a certain way because of them. If someone had asked me whether we could ever be friends, I would have said no, because I would have thought that that was what was going to happen."
            "I hope we're more than friends," said Draco, daring a little.
            Harry laughed without opening his mouth. "We are," he said. "I was just giving an example. I don't think anyone would have asked me if we could be lovers before we became that way."
            Lovers. So there. Draco felt a tingling thrill run through him, an invisible rejection of the kind of statement that people who were trying to separate him and Harry--like Harry's friends--might have made. They could say that Harry had never used the word before, or didn't mean that he and Draco were lovers even when he was enjoying Draco's attention.
            But now they were. Harry had said so.
            Draco lifted a hand and placed it on Harry's cheek. "You're impressive, you know," he said, and persisted when Harry made a face. "Your magic. You're impressively strong. You are."
            "Do you know how little I care about that?" Harry demanded, his eyes blazing. "What matters to me the most is that someone can love me and care for me and fight for me, and you do all that. And you'll let me love you and care for you and fight for you in return. Some people would only want one or the other. You don't."
            If Draco was a more honest person, a more Gryffindor person, committed to giving Harry all the choices available, he might have said that Harry only held onto those standards because he hadn't met many potential lovers. He could ask for far more, and dozens of people would be delighted to give it to him.
            But Draco was the one who was here, and who had got here first. And he never planned to give that position up.
            "Kiss me, if you're so swept up in demonstrating my fitness to be with you," he said.
            And Harry did, hard enough to make Draco breathless all over again.
*
            "Since you helped to bring them here, you can help to put them away."
            Those were the first words Harry heard, coming down the staircase in the morning for breakfast. He stopped and stared at the trunks of money--well, some of them had coins spilling out of them, and some of them had jewelry, and some books, and some cups that reminded Harry of Hufflepuff's cup--sitting in the entrance hall.
            Lucius saw him looking, and gave him a small, nasty smile. "My wife tells me that she wrote a letter 'suggesting' that the goblins send all the contents of my vaults home."
            "I can help you set up protections," Harry offered, interested. He and Draco had done some research on wards, too, because there was always the chance that the goblins would try to spy on what Harry was doing through the Manor's wards. It would be a good idea to know how to strengthen them.
            "No, I want you to help carry," Lucius directed, as though Harry was deaf.
            Harry halted and tilted his head back slowly. It was so slowly that Lucius should have been warned, but he went on scowling at Harry. "Are you deaf, boy? Did you hear what I said?"
            "Yeah," said Harry lightly, and he felt the stones beneath his feet tremble a little. "But you have house-elves who can do that sort of manual duty, and I'm not your boy."
            Lucius opened his mouth and then paused. A second later, he said, "You are right that we did not bring you in as a slave for the sake of doing manual work."
            "Too bloody right you didn't," Harry breathed. He felt--well, roused and dangerous. Currents in his veins seemed to shimmer and shift around as though he was floating on a sea made of blood. And the stones beneath his feet were powdering. He shifted a step over, and the line between two flagstones blurred.
            Lucius's eyes flickered downwards, and then rose back to Harry's feet as though he couldn't bear the sight of what was happening to the floor. "Mr. Potter, I forbid you to destroy my house!"
            "Maybe you should have bloody thought of that before you made me angry," said Harry.
            He just had to lean forwards a little, he thought, and touch Lucius, and that would be the end of that problem. He was more tempted to destroy a person than he had been since the goblins first proposed enslaving him.
            He held himself back more because of Draco than anything else. Draco wouldn't want his father destroyed. Draco would understand that he was angry, but not understand Lucius's death. Harry lashed down cords of self-control over the straining emotions and turned away, walking outside. He would destroy the Manor if he stayed inside it, or parts of it, and the gardens would presumably be easier to repair.
            It was maybe an hour later that Draco came to find him, sitting down on the bench beside him. Harry was gripping the metal and thinking about the flowers in front of him to keep from lashing out. The flowers were beautiful, and hadn't done him any harm, and he wanted them to continue to exist.
            "You missed breakfast," said Draco, in a voice as light grey as some of the Manor's walls.
            Harry shut his eyes and shook his head.
            Draco paused, then let one hand rest on his arm. "My father makes you that angry?"
            "When he orders me to carry the boxes of artifacts and money as if I was a slave."

            "I see," said Draco. "If you knew that my mother and I have both talked to him, would that make you feel better?"
            Harry paused in turn. "Talked to him? Or at him?"
            "The first at first," Draco said. "The second later, when he started listening to my mother and realized what he did."
            Harry sighed and did feel some of his anger leave. Just knowing that Lucius had some consequences to his behavior that weren't death, unlike the goblins never having consequences at all, reassured him. "All right. I'll come in and eat. I just don't want him to ever say something like that again."
            Draco had an odd little smirk on his face as he stood. "I think you'll find that he won't have the opportunity."
            Harry didn't know what he meant until he got into the breakfast room and heard Narcissa's casual words. "Oh, Harry, I thought you should know that Lucius has decided that it would do him good to sort the artifacts and money by himself. For the rest of the day. In another room."
            Harry smiled until it felt as if his face would break, and then settled into his usual chair at the table and went on eating as if nothing was wrong. Draco touched his hand, and then nothing was.
*
            delia cerrano: Harry is impressed with Narcissa for that very reason.
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The Long Defeat