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The Dust of Water	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20632 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-Four—Burning, Blinding
            “Welcome to the Malfoy Manor dueling room.”
            Harry resisted the urge to smile as he turned his head from side to side. Yes, this was a dueling room, all right, he supposed. Not that he had ever seen one, but one of the ancient Malfoys had probably taken everyone’s fantasy of a dueling room and then added two hundred ostentatious flourishes.
            It was made of marble, for one thing. Harry could imagine how stunning blood would look on that white stone, which was presumably part of the point. In the exact center was a ring of black stone, set into the marble in such a way that Harry couldn’t feel a break. He bent down and brushed his fingers over the edge of the ring. It felt silky and glassy, like obsidian.
            “Is this made of obsidian?” he asked Malfoy.
            “How should I know? I didn’t make it.” Malfoy seemed to miss Harry’s eyeroll as he walked across the dueling circle and stood on the other side. When he drew his wand, his face was full of emotion like subdued fire.
            “Do you see the designs on the walls?” Although Harry didn’t know if he should take his eyes off Malfoy so near the start of a duel, he obediently turned his head. He could see the designs when he squinted. They looked like gold and silver shields traced in faint light on each of the eight panels that made up the octagonal room.
            “Those help contain spells and dissipate them harmlessly if they pass outside the dueling circle, so we don’t have to worry about them bouncing and hitting us in the back.” Malfoy’s voice was a low, passionate sound as he paced back and forth in front of Harry. “And if either of us stumbles out of the dueling circle, we lose.”
            “There’s nothing to keep us in it, is there? No sort of barrier or shield?”
            “No. You simply have to watch your step.”
            Malfoy was grinning like a tiger. Harry nodded once and said, “All right. How formal is this? Are we going to bow?”
            “We can if you like. It’s an acknowledgment of the power your opponent has, a good way to demonstrate respect that might not be clear otherwise.”
            Malfoy sounded so indifferent that Harry almost expected an attack as he bent at the waist. But even if Malfoy didn’t like the formal customs of dueling, he performed them gracefully, making it seem as if the bow and the straightening up was all part of one flowing motion.
            “Do you have any other questions?” Malfoy was looking at Harry, or at the Elder Wand as he drew it. Harry couldn’t tell which one. He shook his head and half-braced himself.
            “Good, then,” Malfoy said, and abruptly exploded in a run towards Harry. Harry nearly leaped backwards before he remembered that he couldn’t go out of the dueling circle.
            But he’d fought people in confined circumstances before. Harry crouched instead and snapped, “Impedimenta!”
            Malfoy leaped over the hex and kept running. Harry turned a little to the side and this time used a Stunner. Malfoy spun past that one and ended up with his wand trained on Harry’s heart, which had probably been his goal from the beginning.
            “Cordis Arcus!”
            A brilliant splash of rainbow light exploded into being on Harry’s chest, right over his heart, spraying light into his eyes. Harry slammed them shut and rolled instinctively away from both Malfoy and the edge of the circle, further into the center of the dueling ring. The spell still shimmered hard on the other side of his eyelids, waiting to blind him if he looked.
            But it did nothing to interfere with his hearing. Harry could hear Malfoy running towards him, his footsteps fast and excited. Harry planted one hand on the floor and waited until Malfoy had got near enough that it would be hard for him to reverse his charge.
            Then Harry aimed his wand at the floor and thought as hard as he could, Conglacio.
            The next sound he heard was a sharp gasp and then a thump. The floor had turned to ice, and Malfoy had slipped on it. Harry grinned and crab-walked on his hands for a second, as he got ready to stand. The Ice Transfiguration spell only worked forwards from wherever his hands were touching, usually in a half-circle.
            But Malfoy had another trick ready. “Praestigiae Ignis!”
            Harry heard the roar of fire a second later. He snapped open his eyes, but had to close them again. Walls of flame surrounded him from every direction, still less brilliant than the stupid beaming spell on his chest.
            Harry turned his wand on himself. “Finite Incantatem.” He had to be able to see before he could do anything else.
            Meanwhile, his mind was working feverishly on the memory of the spell Malfoy had used. He knew he’d heard that incantation before. Never actually cast it, but he knew he’d heard it, knew there was some counter…
            As if summoned from the past, which wasn’t so distant to him, he heard Snape’s bored voice drawling in his head. “..or the Fire Illusion, a variation on the Boggart Illusion that calls up the image of your greatest fear, whose incantation is Praestigiae Ignis…”
            This is just an illusion. It’s my own belief that’s giving it its power, and I can overcome it if I can just make myself walk into it.
            Harry stood up and whirled around to face what he knew was the back of the dueling circle. He did feel a faint flicker of fear and doubt that he might have got the direction wrong and any second now he was going to burn to death or slam into Malfoy and lose the duel, but he pushed it aside. He was good at directions. He always knew where he was in Quidditch, no matter how many times the broom spun.
            He walked straight through the illusion, despite the sparking of heat against his skin and the sensation of small hairs on his arms singeing.
            It was horrifying for several moments. Then it was over. And Harry found himself turning around in the middle of clear air, on uniced ground, and casting another spell that he had used on a few Death Eaters. “Flagello Tergum!”
            The spell uncoiled from his wand in a hissing, dancing whip of sparks. Harry had to squint as he watched them disappearing into the illusion. He wondered for a second if illusion magic could protect Malfoy from the spell he’d aimed.
            A scream of anguish a second later said that no, it couldn’t. Grinning, Harry took a running start and leaped back through the illusion.
            He found Malfoy rolling on the floor, trying to disenchant the spell that floated above him and was whipping his back bloody. Since it was invisible, not a trail of light or anything like that, it was difficult. Malfoy still aimed his wand and spat angry curses, though, only to interrupt them when he screamed again.
            Harry made sure he didn’t slip on the ice as he came up beside Malfoy and smiled down at him. “Ready to yield?”
            A second later, he supposed he shouldn’t have said that. He could have cast the Disarming Charm and taken Malfoy’s wand easily enough from him right then. But his words made Malfoy open his eyes with a crazed expression, stick his elbows underneath him, and spring to his feet.
            He moved so lightly that he didn’t even seem to care about the ice this time. He looked Harry right in the eye and spat, “Caeco!”
            Harry didn’t recognize the incantation, but that didn’t matter, not when twin black arrows materialized from the end of Malfoy’s wand and aimed at his eyes. Harry wasn’t going to let arrows anywhere near his eyes. He rolled on the floor in response, but the arrows kept up, diving at him relentlessly. Harry raised a Shield Charm that broke one of them, but the left one was still coming.
            Harry lashed out with a defensive burst of pure magic, not thinking about what the consequences might be.
            The magic came out as a flying cascade of white sparks, one that hit the left arrow and broke it. Then it hit the ice on the other side of the dueling circle and broke it, crazing it and melting it.
            Then it hit Malfoy.
            Harry stared as he went flying. He didn’t fly over the outer side of the dueling circle, instead bouncing back as if he’d hit an invisible barrier after all, despite his claims that there was no such thing, and rolling limply towards the center. Harry went running towards him.
            Malfoy was breathing, Harry could see that much even from a distance, but he didn’t move as Harry bent over him. Then Harry heard a croaking mutter escape from his mouth as he aimed his wand at Harry’s feet.
            “Locomotor Mortis.”
            Harry leaped the Leg-Locker Curse, but he came down with a grudging respect for Malfoy. Harry knew his head had to be ringing. Harry didn’t know if he could have summoned up the breath or the will to muster a spell after a hit like that.
            “Damn you anyway, Potter,” Malfoy said dazedly as he raised his head and shook it. “Why can no one guard against you half the time?”
            “Expelliarmus!”
            Malfoy’s eyes glittered as he pinned his wand beneath him, negating the spell, and then fought his way to his knees. “Finally remembered that we’re supposed to be in a duel and not some kind of mutual admiration contest?”
            Harry didn’t bother responding to that with words. In his opinion, Malfoy was the one who sometimes forgot they were in the middle of a duel, although he acted like it was a battle to the death instead. Instead, Harry came up with another nonverbal spell like the one he’d used to turn the floor to ice, and concentrated on it as hard as he could. Ango medullam!
            Malfoy gasped as he bent over. Harry knew his arms would be aching; the particular curse Harry had used was called the Marrow Torment, spreading pain from the bone marrow outwards, and he’d hit Malfoy’s arms instead of his whole body because he didn’t think his wordless magic would be powerful enough to cover all of Malfoy.
            Harry had his shield up, ready to move the instant Malfoy dropped his wand or used it to end the spell, but Malfoy didn’t do either. He raised his wand despite the sheer pain that must have been cutting him to pieces and croaked, “Corvus.”
            The giant raven that flew out of his wand gave Harry more problems than he’d anticipated. For one thing, it flew straight at his head, and Harry had to duck. In the meantime, he could hear Malfoy ending the Marrow Torment and probably doing something else that would make him more of a problem for Harry in just a minute.
            For another, what Malfoy had done was a kind of summoning, and Harry couldn’t simply cast Finite at the bird and solve the problem that way. It needed a specific Banishing Charm. Harry tried to remember what the one for ravens was while ducking.
            He didn’t duck far enough. A sharp beak hammered into his scar and made him gasp. Then he was down on his knees while the raven perched on his shoulder and rained blows down on his skull, grabbing Harry’s shoulders in its surprisingly powerful feet while it did.
            Finally, the incantation came back to Harry. “Corvum ablegatio!”
            The strikes ended so suddenly that it made Harry feel as if he had phantom pain in the top of his head and shoulders, as if they were the places his lightning scar had been. Harry was still gingerly raising a hand to feel his skull when Malfoy barked, “Daphnis!”
            In an instant, Harry didn’t have a hand anymore. He had a set of twigs covered with budding leaves. He stared down and found that his feet were sliding into the floor, rooting there. Already his toes were long and wriggling, diving into the ground as they looked for water.
            Harry snatched his wand, but his voice was blurred when he tried to speak. Bark was covering his face. He saw Malfoy watching him smugly.
            No. I will this not to happen.
            The back of his mind stirred, and there was a spell there. Harry didn’t know where it came from. It was simply there, and he knew enough not to question it. He knew that it was the only spell that could save him now.
            Ignis intra! His thoughts were the only way he could produce magic at the moment.
            The fire burst out of Harry, burning him. He shrieked, but at least it was in a human voice, and he could feel the bark melting away from him as if it was a coating of chocolate gone liquid. Harry kicked, and his feet had toes again and moved to his command. His hands stung, but they were hands and not twigs.
            Malfoy fell back a step before Harry. His eyes were wide and glazed, and he stared at Harry as if he had never seen anything scarier in his life.
            Harry grinned. It was about to get scarier, he thought. Because after Malfoy had used that spell, Harry wasn’t content to simply use a Disarming Charm and call it even.
            “Comminuo,” Harry breathed, and the spell writhed out of his wand and dived down on Malfoy like an eagle.
            Strangely, Malfoy didn’t even make an attempt to avoid it. He stood there and stared, and when the spell landed on his shoulder and delved into him, he only turned his head a little, dreamily. Harry wondered whether he had hit his head on something when Harry wasn’t able to see through the bark, or if he was suffering from magical exhaustion.
            His expression changed in a second, though, and Harry knew what he was hearing. There would be a voice whispering to him, in the back of his head, loud and persistent and sounding like the voice of someone he trusted. Probably someone dead, to make the impact all the harsher. Maybe even Snape.
            Harry knew the sorts of things it would be saying, too.
            You’re worthless. Why would anyone bother trying to save you? Why would anyone want to be with you? What makes you worth more than the ground you tread in? Why don’t you crumble to dust and die?
            Malfoy fell to his knees a second later, hands clutching his temples. His hand dropped his wand limply, and it rolled across the floor towards Harry. Harry strolled towards it and picked it up, spinning it between his fingers.
            He was aware of the desire to let the spell continue, so that Malfoy might suffer at least some of the panic that Harry had when he almost turned into a bloody tree. But that was cruel, and Harry refused to be Old Harry.
            “Finite Incantatem,” he said loudly, although he had to direct rather a lot of power into the spell to break the Diminishment Curse he’d already cast on Malfoy.
            Malfoy uncurled slowly from his fetal posture when Harry let the spell go. He lay there, panting and staring up at Harry in silence.
            Harry knelt down next to him and smiled at him. He thought the expression was dangerous, but Malfoy didn’t flinch from it.
            “If you ever try to turn me into a tree again,” Harry said, slowly and calmly, “what I just did will be nothing compared to what happens to you.”
            Malfoy lifted a shaking hand. Harry had no idea what he was doing until Malfoy locked his hand around the nape of Harry’s neck and tugged him down. Harry went with it, utterly astonished and already trying to decide if Malfoy thought he could win the duel by head-butting Harry or something.
            Then he realized it was something else. Because Malfoy’s mouth had locked on his and was sucking at him greedily, desperately.
            Harry suddenly saw the dazed, blank look in Malfoy’s eyes again, saw it in a new light. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d been standing there in worship, in awe.
            In lust.
            Harry brought a shaking hand forwards and stroked Malfoy’s hair, his neck. The contact made Malfoy groan and writhe, and at the same time, Harry felt as if he was the one being lit on fire, through his fingertips.
            He was hard so fast he felt dizzy. And he was—he was being kissed in a way that wasn’t wet, that just wanted.
            His vision clouded over, and with it, his mind. He wanted, and he wanted, and he wanted. Maybe he hadn’t before.
            But he did now.
            Harry slid his arm behind Malfoy’s head and kissed back, tugging impatiently at Malfoy’s shirt in the meantime. His body buzzed with magic and the wild rush of knowing someone just wanted him instead of wanting him back.
            He was more than his lost memories and possible crimes to Malfoy. He was his magic and his body and his contrast with Old Harry.
            And right now, that was all Harry wanted to be.
*
Severus1snape: Thank you! I think people are starting to adapt to the loss of Harry; it’s just that for Harry, it’s not visible yet.
SP777: I think some decline at some point is likely, but yeah, I know what you mean.
I trust Harry smoked it sufficiently? ;)
moon: Not unaware, not since Draco told Harry he’s attracted to him. Just uncertain until now.
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The Dust of Water