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The Name I'll Give to Thee	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42129 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-Four--A Chilling Argument

            Harry waited until Draco had shut the Manor door behind them before he turned around with his arms folded and his nostrils flaring and his face gone some strange mixture of red and white. Draco reckoned that he could be grateful for small mercies, and stared straight back at Harry with his jaw set and his arms folding themselves. He didn't mean to look that mulish, it wasn't always in him, but Harry brought out a lot of things from him he had never known were there.

            Ossy appeared in the entrance hall, scooped up their cloaks, took one glance at them, and Apparated away.

            "You never discussed this with me," Harry began, in a voice that made it sound like he was contemplating charging Draco. "When was I supposed to find out? When I tried to go back to the Ministry and they told me, oh, you're not welcome anymore, your lord and master firecalled and told us that's not your job?"

            "I never would have done that," Draco said. He became aware that his arms shook a little. He braced them down and against himself. He was not going to fuck this up. "I would have discussed it with you like a civilized person before you tried to go back. And in private."

            "Oh, yes, the bad thing about this is that I brought it up in public, not that you want to do it in the first place!" Harry began roaming back and forth, slapping his hands together. Draco frowned and stepped out of the way, watching for his wand. "When they asked if I was coming back to the Ministry or was loyal to you, what would have happened if I'd smiled and politely refused to discuss it, hmmm? They would have thought they were right and you held something over my head. There was no way out of that situation that didn't involve me declaring my loyalties."

            Draco shook his head. "Then you could have held your temper and declared them in the right place."

            Harry turned slowly on one heel and gave Draco a look that made him flinch. "You're not listening," he said. "They would have suspected I was turning against them no matter what. At least this makes me look as though I'm fighting you--"

            "And thus we're disunited, and no one will believe in the theory of our working marriage," Draco interrupted.

            "How would they have believed it from the moment you spoke up about me not retaining my job?" Harry turned his back and paced towards the wall as though he was finding the right place to kick it. "There's no way to look independent after that."

            Draco shook his head. He had a head full of words and a mouth full of emptiness. "I'm surprised that you thought I would allow this," he said at last. "You thought I would let you go back to a job so threatening as that?"

            Harry laughed and turned to face him. His eyes had taken on the taint of bitter ashes, and Draco found he didn't like to see that, but he had no idea how to get rid of the color. "What makes it more threatening than what I've endured so far as your husband, Draco? Nearly losing myself in the attempt to be your obedient emotionless pet. Seeing you stabbed in the back. Being attacked by a dragon. Being threatened with scandal by Zabini. There's no reason to think that being your demi-husband will be much safer than being an Auror. And there's plenty of people who will keep chasing me because I'm Harry Potter and they have grudges."

            "You're Harry Malfoy."

            "That doesn't matter to them," Harry said, with a smile Draco wished he could smack. He might have, except that it was undignified for Malfoy spouses to brawl. "They don't care. I'm still the man who defeated Voldemort, and now they're going to see that I'm out of the supportive power structure of the Ministry and only have a few wards and house-elves to defend me, and think of me as a prime target. You've increased the danger to me with your stupid demands, not lessened it."

            "You won't be out in front of Dark wizards and getting cursed all the time for a few Galleons a day," Draco said coldly, while the pace of his heartbeat made him feel as though he had vertigo.

            "No, I'll be inside and getting cursed by them," Harry muttered, and lifted his hands to yank at his hair. "In parties, in manor houses, in all these places that I don't understand and don't like."

            "You knew that becoming my husband would involve sacrifice."

            Harry turned around and stared hard at Draco for a moment. Then he said, "Right. Sacrifice." His eyes had gone almost black. He looked at Draco until Draco was waiting with bated breath for what he'd say, and then nodded. "So. Here's the scroll." He held out the scroll about the demi-marriage that Draco had copied.

            "What are you going to do?" Draco snapped, accepting the scroll but watching Harry.

            "Going up to bed," Harry said, turning his back and climbing. "Since I can't have it anymore, I'll dream about the life I've lost."

            "But does this mean that you see it's impossible to be an Auror or not?" Draco called, taking a step after him.

            Harry leaned over the railing and looked at him again. Draco took a step back.

            "I've accepted it," Harry said quietly, "without understanding it."

            And he went back to climbing.

            Draco shook his head. He hated it when Harry retreated like this into quiet, into calm, instead of fighting. Surely he should have learned by now that Draco didn't want him to stifle his emotions, that he wanted a Harry who would fight and give Draco all he was, give to the demi-marriage all he was? They couldn't survive against their enemies, including the ones who would hunt them less openly, if Harry locked himself away.

            Ossy appeared in front of Draco, gravely observed him, shook his head, and Apparated away again.

*

            Harry paced back and forth across his room. He'd never have thought to say this about any room in Malfoy Manor, but it wasn't big enough for pacing.

            He wanted to break something. But all the delicate decorations in the room suitable for smashing, or the sheets, which were suitable for tearing, were the Malfoys', and not his. Picking up a pillow and throwing it didn't relieve his feelings. Flying or dueling would have, but doubtless Draco would say that was too dangerous and tuck Harry back into bed like a china doll.

            One of the reasons he wanted to marry me was so that I could defend his family. Why the fuck does he want me to give that up, and play the good little husband--something I'm not? When he wants to rule, when he wants me to just yield and go along with him in public instead of discussing it first, then he's right back to saying that he wants an obedient automaton like the one I tried to give him before! He can't make up his fucking mind what he wants.

            "Master Harry."

            Harry turned around and frowned at Ossy. It hurt, physically, to confine his breath within his lungs, to keep from shouting. He ended up tucking his hands behind his back where he could dig his nails into his palms and not show Ossy what he was feeling. "Does Draco want me to watch Narcissa?" he asked, keeping his voice dead.

            Ossy studied him again, and then shook his head. "Master Harry is being a Malfoy, too," he told the pillow on the floor, and flapped his hands so that it straightened out and flew back to the bed. A few more waves of his hands, and the creases flattened and sharpened out. "He is having equal rights to the Malfoy property and to the Malfoy heritage." He paused and watched Harry expectantly.

            "I don't know what that means," Harry told him, and sat down on the edge of the bed. The outrage was draining away, but what replaced it wasn't the sparking willingness to work with Draco that he'd been feeling lately, either. He had done what he could. He had made this marriage, and there would be sacrifices. He had given up living on his own, his last name, access to his family's box (even if he hadn't known about that at the time), seeing his friends whenever he wanted, and now his job.

            What else is going to be left to give?

            Well, at least he could live secure in the knowledge that whatever it was, Draco would find it and demand it.

            "Master Harry is not knowing what that means?"

            Harry started and looked up. Ossy was squeaking, something he almost never did, and his hands had come together in front of him as though to cover a cut throat. While Harry stared, Ossy swayed back and forth and nearly sat down on the floor.

            "Hey!" Harry leaped up and looked around, then grabbed one of the pillows off the bed again and positioned it behind Ossy. "Are you all right? You look like you're going to faint."

            Ossy immediately straightened up and glared at him again. "Master Harry is not taking care of Ossy," he said. "Ossy is taking care of Master Harry."

            Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. At least he knew how to bring a distressed house-elf back to life now, he supposed, so he could say being a Malfoy had given him something instead of taking it all away. "Fine," he said, as soothingly as he could. He tried to think of the voice he used on witnesses, and then threw the thought away. It wasn't as though he would ever need that voice again, was it? "Fine," he repeated, with his tone a little harder. "Are you going to explain what you meant, or are you going to just join with Draco in thinking I should know what you mean without an explanation?"

            "Ossy did thinks that Master Harry is knowing what he meant," Ossy said, and shook one finger at Harry. "Ossy did not be knowing he did not know! Now that Ossy knows he does not know, Master Harry will be knowing what Ossy is knowing, and will knows more!"

            Harry shook his head a little under the assault of verbs. "Fine," he repeated. "So what?"

            "Master Harry is Master Draco's heir."

            Harry would have held his hands up to the ceiling in helplessness, except he knew that wouldn't express what he was feeling. Nor could he think of anything that would except tugging on his hair again. "So what?" he snapped. "He's made it clear that what that means is that I obey him and give up whatever he tells me to give up." And to think he had thought marrying into the Malfoy family would bring him some things, too, if only privacy behind the wards and more of that delicious food. He'd been a fool.

            "Master Harry is owning things in Malfoy Manor, too," Ossy said, and leaned close enough that Harry was afraid his dreams that night would be full of house-elf eyes. "Master Harry has no idea how many things he is owning."

            "I have a private vault or something?" Harry asked skeptically.

            "Not vaults," Ossy said, and then turned and moved towards a far corner of the room. Harry stood up to watch him go. He was aiming for a little carved table of some wood that was probably mahogany or something else expensive in a niche in the wall. On it was a crystal vase.

            "This is being Master Harry's," Ossy said, and turned around with the vase in his arms and an expectant look on his face.

            "So," Harry said, fighting the urge to break into an evil grin, and then giving in because Draco wasn't here, "if I wanted to break it and use a Reparo on it, there's no way that Draco would ever know?"

            "Ossy would be using the Reparo!" Ossy snapped, immediately lifting the vase over his head as if he had changed his mind about telling Harry the truth. "Master Harry is not to be straining himself."

            Harry rolled his eyes. They didn't seem to understand in Malfoy Manor that he liked straining himself, that he was awake and alive when he could feel the blood pounding through his muscles and the magic fighting his control under his fingertips. But arguing with Ossy would be less productive than arguing with Draco right now, so he nodded and reached his hand out. "Okay, give it here."

            Ossy skimmed the vase gently across to him, and Harry held it, looking at it. Bright veins of purer light ran through the crystal, and he could see the wall through it if he squinted. It was like holding a cloud in his hands. It swelled so delicately from the bottom that it was hard to see where it happened even when he was actually touching it. It was a subtle, brilliant work of art.

            Harry concentrated until he had found all the similarities he could between the vase and Draco's way of life. Then he whirled and flung it at the far wall.

            It exploded hard enough to make the shards fly back at him. Harry's hand snapped up, but Ossy's shield had come down in front of him, and the crystal hit what seemed to be flexible air and dropped ringing to the floor. Ossy swept them up and made the vase whole again, while Harry collapsed on the bed and laughed.

            Someone pounded on the door.

            Someone, Harry thought, rolling his eyes as he got up. He would have to change more of the habits of his brain before he would ever be comfortable living in Malfoy Manor, that much was certain. There was only one person it could be, and always would be, even if Harry didn't want to think his name.

            He opened the door to find Draco staring at him, pushing hair back from his eyes. "What was that?" he demanded. "I heard a crash."

            Harry toyed for a moment with the idea of pretending that he had broken his own leg in frustration, but then he shook his head and said, "Ossy was just reminding me that if I break a vase I own, he can repair it."

            Draco stared at him some more with his mouth open. Then he said, "I haven't distressed you that much."

            Oh, you idiot, Harry thought, resisting the urge to subject Draco's head to the same treatment as the vase. He shrugged and turned away. "Whatever you say," he said, nudging the door shut behind him.

            The door hit something, probably Draco's outstretched foot from the way it made him yelp, and then he limped in, rubbing his shin and glaring at Harry. "I don't like that," he said.

            "Me shutting the door in your face?" Harry glared at him, his arms folding again in what felt almost like a comforting blanket around his chest by now. "Well, if you're serious about allowing me to have some privacy, then I don't see why I can't do it."

            "I hate it when you retreat!" Draco snarled, and his face was wild and pink and flushed and nothing like the vase that Ossy still cradled off to the side at all. "I hated it in Hogwarts, and I hate it now! I want you to tell me what's wrong!"

            Harry felt himself choking on emotion. Then he said, "You fucker. What have I been doing? But you tell me that it can't possibly be that I like my job, that I can't possibly feel frustrated that you made another stupid bloody decision and overwhelmed all of mine, that I can't possibly think this won't do anything because our enemies won't stop coming after me. I tell you the truth, and you don't accept it. What fucking bloody other thing am I supposed to tell you?"

*

            Draco shook his head. He had words now in his mouth, but he didn't know which were the right ones to speak. Harry's eyes were as brilliant as stars, as the lines in the vase Ossy had repaired, as the magic that Draco could feel tumbling and sparking around the Manor in the new wards when he reached out for them.

            "I want you to tell me the truth," he said at last, because it was the only thing that mattered. Well, that and that Harry not shut himself away from Draco and just give him what he wanted all the time. Draco wanted his willing surrender, wanted Harry to agree with him that, yes, it was for the best that he give up the Auror job, and stay inside the Manor more often, and find something else he wanted to do. "Why do you want the Auror job so much? Are you still addicted to saving people? Is that it? Or is it something else that I haven't grasped yet?"

            Harry buried his forehead in his hands and sighed. Draco caught Ossy's gaze, and looked hastily away again.

            "Well?" he asked, when several minutes had passed and Harry still hadn't answered.

            "Something you haven't grasped yet," Harry muttered. "How can you--how can you be content to live in the world without making a difference? Without changing it?" He turned around and stared at Draco with an earnestness that made Draco open his mouth to speak, and then close it again, because if something mocking came out of it right now, Harry would probably never trust him again. "How can you just stay inside the Manor and do nothing?"

            "I'm not doing nothing," Draco pointed out coldly. "I'm managing the Malfoy affairs, and getting used to my demi-marriage, and taking care of my mother."

            "But what were you doing before I shattered your wards?" Harry demanded, leaning forwards. "Before your mother was sick, and you were demi-married? Can the Malfoy business affairs fill one end of your week to the next?"

            Draco frowned and shook his head. He wanted to say that he could barely remember a time before he had been arguing with Harry, but that wasn't true. "I enjoyed myself," he said. "Took leisure time for myself, which isn't something you ever seemed to consider. I read, and studied, and learned spells." He glanced at the basilisk wand resting against his waist. "Something I can't do now."

            "It sounds like a boring life."

            Draco glared at him. "Spoken like someone who's spent his life so much in the service of other people that he doesn't even know there is anything else."

            Harry rolled his eyes. "Spoken like someone who's been so content pursuing his own pleasure that he doesn't realize there are different kinds of pleasure," he retorted. "That isn't what I want, Draco. I need a career. I need to connect with other people. I need to show them that I can do something more than float on laurels. That's what everyone expected me to do, after the war. They thought that destroying him was enough for me. I want to show them it's not."

            Draco distantly noted Harry's courtesy in not using the Dark Lord's name, but he was more focused on the words themselves, perhaps the most honest and most revealing thing he had ever heard Harry say. "You realize that you don't sound as though you live your life the way you want to?" he asked quietly. "It sounds like it's controlled by other people's opinions, as if what they think of you matters more than anything else."

            Harry gave the most humorless, bitter laugh that Draco had ever heard; it made him want to clean his mouth out. "I'm always going to be someone to whom people's opinions have to matter," he snapped. "Because otherwise they'll call me a playboy, a fame-whore, a madman, someone who's desperately chasing after his lost youth to try and maintain his reputation as the Hero and Savior. The least I can do is influence what they think of me so it's a more pleasant life to lead."

            Draco was breathing deeply, as though he stood on the edge of a high mountain. He tried to make himself stop doing it, but that just made his chest feel stifled, so he let himself keep doing it, and used the extra breath to smile at Harry and speak the right words, this time. "But you don't have to do that anymore, do you see? We can give you the tools to ignore what they think of you."

            Harry snorted and flopped back on the pillow that looked oddly disarranged, his arms folded behind his head. "Of course we can. As long as I ignore the fact that everyone in the Ministry will think I'm in thrall to you the minute I submit my official resignation."

            "But you don't need to care." Draco made those words as blunt as he could, and from the way Harry rolled one eye towards him, he knew it and didn't appreciate it. "You can if you want to. But you don't need to spend the rest of your life placating them and giving interviews to anyone who wants them, or doing nice, gentle, cautious things just in case the Ministry decides to lock you up."

            Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "I thought that once, too. But then I discovered the only way I could live independent of society was to embrace what everyone expected of me--the crazy Savior who thinks that his fame makes him above the laws. I want to be connected, Draco. I want to do the same things that everyone else does, and make them think they can arrest me if they need to, if I break a law."

            "You do that all the time, and they still don't think that."

            Harry rolled towards him with a fluid grace, coming up on one elbow and maintaining the pose with far more ease than Draco knew he could have done. "Explain what you mean." His voice burbled and growled like the undertone of several of Draco's nightmares.

            "I mean," Draco said, sure the words were right even if the flat stare on Harry's face wasn't, "that you spend all your time trying to be ordinary and trying to placate them, this constant balancing act, and it doesn't matter. Your long service to the Ministry isn't important. They still turned against you the moment they found out we were married. They thought you would be more loyal to the Malfoys than them even if they didn't know you would. They thought changing your name meant changing who you were." It would have been, for many pure-bloods, but not for Harry, and Draco acknowledged to himself that he had been unreasonable to think that would happen. "You aren't ordinary, Harry. You might as well live your life the way you want, because nothing else will ever satisfy them."

            "I was living my life the way I wanted!"

            Draco met and held his eyes. "Were you?" he asked quietly. "I'm not talking about your job. We can--talk about that." He had the feeling he'd just thrown himself to the ground, but the way Harry's eyes brightened made the feeling more than worth it. "I'm talking about the way you had to guard your temper, the way you had to volunteer to save the world from the Dementor ghosts even though everyone was suffering equally, because people just sat back and expected you to save them. How many honest things have you said to anyone in the Ministry who's not already your friend? How many times have you done something you didn't want in the hopes that it would lessen their fear of you, and found out that it wouldn't?"

*

            Harry shut his eyes. He was thinking of the expression on Eliot's face, the way that people in the Ministry party they'd attended who had nothing to do with Draco had glanced at him and then away, the time he'd saved a young Auror trainee's life last year and had to deal with his terror because the trainee thought Harry had used a Dark spell.

            It was never enough. Only his friends knew him and loved him for who he was.

            Those friends don't include Draco.

            But maybe they could, if he could offer Harry something as a trade, as a bargain, instead of endlessly demanding. And he had learned, if he was offering to talk about Harry's job.

            Harry opened his eyes and shook his head. "There's no--I can't promise that I won't want to return to being an Auror."

            "I know," Draco said. He said nothing else, but held out his hand.

            Harry swallowed a few times, and thought again about the way the Aurors had assumed he was a different person the minute he changed his name--or rather, the same person, just revealing the true, Dark colors they'd always thought he'd had--and reached out for Draco's head.

            Maybe the only true thing he said is that I'm not ordinary.

            But in that case, it's time to stop lying to myself.

*

            delia cerrano: I wouldn't describe what Harry and Draco have as love, but it is a much deeper understanding than they used to have. And neither of them trust Blaise enough to let him get close.

            Seiren: Thanks for reviewing!

            unneeded: Yes, that's what Harry thinks too. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

            SP777: You've got that right!

            moodysavage: No, but then, he's not really a friend at all.

            polka dot: It's true that Harry would deal better with a holiday, but he doesn't want it to be a permanent one.
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The Name I'll Give to Thee