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Easy as Falling	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31246 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Six—Consequences

            “Draco.”

            Draco pried his eyes open slowly, confused. Rosenthal was the one who usually woke him up, with the schedule for the coming day and her own suggestions for what he could do to improve on that schedule. He rubbed his eyes and turned towards the Floo in front of him, wondering where she was.

            He sat up hard enough to bump his head on the bed’s canopy when he saw who was present instead. His father’s face hovered in the fire, pale and stern and looking so Malfoy that Draco reached up to adjust a school tie that wasn’t there.

            “Father,” Draco said. At least his voice didn’t shake. He made a little bow from a seated position and swung his legs around so that they rested on the floor. “I didn’t know you would be calling on me today.”

            I expected Rosenthal, or maybe Harry. At least a glance out his bedroom window told him why Rosenthal wasn’t here. The sky had turned soggy and cloudy, pouring down rain. He’d been supposed to have a huge outdoor meal this morning for some of his supporters. Rosenthal had already told him that if the weather was bad enough to make the awnings sag, they would wait until this afternoon instead.

            “You know that I dislike what you are doing, Draco.”

            Draco looked back at Lucius and said nothing, not knowing what his father wanted him to say. Yes, it was true that no Malfoy in history had ever sought the Minister’s position, because it was too public. Less freedom to collect bribes and favors if you had eyes on you every minute and the whole wizarding world inclined to blame you personally for every downturn in economic or martial fortunes.

            But Draco had announced his plan to run for Minister two years ago, at least to his parents, and he’d thought they’d accepted it. Draco simply blinked at his father, and waited.

            “Your friend Blaise Zabini informed us of your—connection—with Potter.” Lucius’s voice dropped. “Close enough to receive personal photographs of his past and discuss them with him over a private Floo call, Blaise said, receiving answers that were honest as far as he could tell. What are you doing, Draco? You cannot simultaneously be the independent Minister that you took pains to make yourself and the servant of a Dark Lord, the way I was.”

            Draco didn’t fold his arms, didn’t sigh, but he wanted to. So this is Blaise’s revenge for what happened to his mother. I suppose I should accept that he could have done worse.

            “I am not a servant,” Draco said. “I’m an ally. If Blaise thought I was a servant, he was mistaken. The way Potter answered my questions should have clarified that for him. If I was Potter’s subordinate, he could have ordered me to shut up, and I would have had no choice but to obey.”

            “A valued servant might find a way around the rules,” Lucius said, and the flames lit up his cheekbones with stark shadows. “You know that as well as I do. I repeat: what are you doing?”

            Draco sighed. Useless to hope that he could hide this from his parents, even for as long as this. He didn’t know when Blaise had told them, so Draco’s alliance with Harry might have been exposed almost as soon as Blaise knew the truth about his mother.

            Useless to try, Draco decided, watching his father’s face and hoping Lucius didn’t take Draco’s easy surrender for a sign that he should try and separate Draco from Harry.

            “It is an alliance,” Draco said. “It started out that way, and we don’t intend to let anyone else know of the alliance until after I’m elected. Maybe not then,” he added, thinking of the way that the gaping mouths and eyes of the people at the debate had pleased him. “But I’m not a servant. Potter has no idea about how to be a Dark Lord, not really. He only declared himself one because he thought it would intimidate the Board of Governors and the Minister into backing off from closing Hogwarts. He wanted to save the school. He bonded with it. And I’m teaching him some political aspects in return for support that doesn’t look like support.”

            “Why must you have the personal touch in such a bargain as this?” His father frowned at him.

            Draco smiled at Lucius and crossed his arms over his chest, although he leaned sideways enough in the bed that it didn’t look intimidating or like he was trying to confront his father. He hoped. “Because why shouldn’t I take pleasure where I find it? And it’s one way for Potter to pay me for my political instruction.”

            He would not say it was more than that. Not yet. He had to come up with terms that his father would accept, and right now, this was it.

            He got a long, slow look that told him he wasn’t fooling his father as well as he had hoped. Nonetheless, Lucius could not have many other sources besides Blaise, and he had trusted Draco enough to expose that source right away. So he didn’t intend to abandon Draco to a hopeless existence devoid of his trust.

            Lucius remained silent. Draco knew he was turning the explanation Draco had offered him over in his mind, letting it acquire the proper polish from the grit already stored there to make it into a pearl.

            “If you risk your campaign on this…” Lucius began.

            “Rosenthal’s already let me know all about the consequences of that,” Draco said, and saw Lucius smile for the first time since the conversation had begun. His parents approved of Rosenthal. “But why would you care that much about it, Father? I thought you would be just as pleased not to see me run for Minister anymore.”

            He gasped a little at the way Lucius pinned him with stern eyes. “Because you have chosen to make your run in public, and in a way that has already begun,” Lucius said slowly, as though Draco was stupid. “What a Malfoy begins, he finishes. Do you understand?”

            “Yes,” Draco said, and felt, as though from the touch of a ghost, emotions he had believed were years dead. He was no longer a child, no longer even someone who lived under the domination of his father most of the time. But he shook it off a second longer and gave his father a thoughtful look. “Does Mother feel as you do?”

            “That a Malfoy should finish what he begins?” Lucius sneered the answer.

            “No,” Draco said. “I meant, does Mother feel that she can approve of me running for Minister now?” It had never been as much of an open contention between him and Narcissa as it was between him and Lucius, but she had dealt with his campaign by refusing to discuss it with him. Draco knew one of the most frustrating evenings in Rosenthal’s life had happened when his parents invited her to dinner and then spoke around and under her work instead of about it.

            “She will come to,” Lucius said. “She could accept you in power more easily than she could the servant of someone else.”

            “It isn’t servant,” Draco said firmly. “Potter doesn’t think like that. But I would never call myself his master, either,” he added, answering the question that he knew Lucius was opening his mouth to ask.

            “Someone who does not know what mastery means will come to crave it more, the more he is bathed in power,” Lucius said.

            “But you were powerful in the Ministry for a long time, and you never tried to rule people that way,” Draco said, deciding that a little judicious flattery couldn’t hurt. “Who’s to say Potter can’t resist the temptation?”

            Lucius half-lidded his eyes, in the way that made it impossible for Draco to tell what he was thinking—not that he was always successful at other times, either. “I contented my impulse to mastery in other ways,” Lucius murmured. “I do not want your Potter to start imagining that he can content his by ruling over you, however.”

            Draco sighed again, and made an offer that he might regret. However, his parents had met Rosenthal and not exploded in spontaneous anger, so he might get away with this, too. “Why don’t you meet him, have dinner with him? Oh,” he added, as his father’s eyes widened enough that Draco could see more of Lucius’s eyelashes than usual, “I know that you know him, in a way, but you haven’t met him since the war.”

            “And I am content to keep it that way.” His father was staring at him.

            “Host him,” Draco said firmly. “Invite him over. Feel the magic he exudes. And then you might understand why I’m as close to him as I am now.”

            “I would not want to be enslaved myself,” Lucius said simply, “if his magic is really as intoxicating as you think it is.”

            Draco rolled his eyes. “I never said anything about his magic being the only reason I want to be close to him, Father.”

            “I can see it in your eyes, however.” Lucius leaned back as if he would close the Floo connection. “I had much the same light myself, once upon a time, when I began to serve the Dark Lord.” His voice grew soft, while Draco stared at him. Lucius had never willingly spoken about that time that Draco could remember, during the first war, even when Draco had asked him. “Walk away from this while you still can, Draco. For the moment, it might seem as though Potter will give you everything you want. I assure you, that is not true. He might not have the same intentions that the Dark Lord did, but he will end up disappointing you in the same way.”

            Draco took a deep breath and tried to think of a way to honor his father’s confidence and his alliance with Harry at the same time. Finally he decided that he couldn’t do it in the same sentence, and bowed to his father instead. “Thank you for telling me that.”

            Lucius nodded, a silent, resigned look on his face. He knows what I chose even before I said it, Draco thought. He could only hope that Lucius listened to the second part of Draco’s little speech, instead of dismissing it because he thought he already knew what Draco meant.

            “But I promise,” Draco said, leaning forwards while his fingers dug into the bed so hard that Lucius would be able to see it if he looked, “I’m not marching blindly to my doom. I would back out of this if Potter couldn’t give me what I wanted. But I really do think that he can. And when I’m elected Minister, even if I broke off the alliance, I would still have to deal with him. That he’s declared himself Dark Lord is a fact now, and we can’t go backwards from that. It’s better to have a relationship with him now instead of only after I get elected.”

            Lucius’s eyebrows rose. “A relationship?”



            Draco flushed, and then cursed himself for doing that. “A poor choice of words, maybe, sir,” he said, bowing again. “But I meant it as having an alliance. If I rejected him now, it would be much harder to work with him when I became Minister.”

            Lucius studied him in silence. “What makes you think he will work with the Ministry at all, rather than simply take it over?”

            Draco laughed, and then had to speak hastily as he watched the thunderclouds move in across his father’s face. Lucius never had had any tolerance for someone making fun of him. “Forgive me, sir. But so far, everything Potter has done is reactive, not active. He hasn’t tried to kill anyone who hasn’t tried to kill him, and he even came and interfered in the debate Tillipop and I had only because I was in danger of being arrested. He didn’t try to kill Tillipop or stop him from speaking. He left.”

            Lucius was immobile for a short time, so much so that Draco finally accepted that he would close the Floo call without saying anything more. He sighed and reached for his robe. Whether or not his father approved of him, he had things to do.

            Lucius finally said, “Perhaps what you say is true. I would not trust it, not from someone who looks like he is in love with Potter.”

            Draco knew the deep, betraying blush rose straight from his groin and came all the way to his face. He didn’t look down, though, because if Lucius already knew his deepest secret, there wasn’t much to do but keep pushing forwards.

            “But perhaps,” Lucius said, leaning back and looking at Draco with the sort of tolerant look that he used on lost puppies as long as they were clean and purebred, “I should invite Potter over to see for myself. You may tell him that your mother and I expect to see him at eight-o’clock on Tuesday.”

            Draco nodded, limp with relief. “Thank you,” he said, and then wondered why he should say it, when Lucius was the one issuing an ultimatum and making Draco’s life more difficult. Draco was the victim in this situation.

            I’m saying it because no one else will, he reminded himself, when he looked into his father’s face again. Because it’s big of him to give me this chance, and Harry will probably come as long as he doesn’t have a school to save that night.

            “I hope you know what you are doing, Draco,” Lucius said, and hesitated a moment. Draco was beyond stunned when he leaned forwards and said one more thing before he closed the Floo. “I would not see any child of mine make the same mistakes that I did.”

            And then the fire winked shut, and Draco stood there blinking and wondering exactly how he was supposed to respond to that.

*

            “Eight-o’clock?” Harry turned away from Draco’s owl to Briseis, who hovered nearby with a long scroll of parchment in her hand. “I could do that. Couldn’t I?”

            Briseis firmed her lips and looked at the schedule once to be sure, or for effect. Harry knew she had the bloody thing memorized. “It’s not the time that concerns me so much as the day,” she said. “That’s the day before the Hogwarts Express arrives, my lord. Are you sure that you want to devote that much time to a single appointment instead of being here, where we can reach you if we need you?”

            “What would prevent you from reaching me in Malfoy Manor?” Harry propped his feet up on his desk and yawned. The magic of Hogwarts stretched around him like a lazy cat, and played with the collection of Auror wands it had buried in the earth. So far, no one had come to demand their wand back yet, but it was only a day since Harry had taken them. He would give them time.

            “I meant,” Briseis said, “the kinds of questions that only you can answer, and might not want to do in front of an audience.”

            Harry shrugged, and watched her with an easy smile, which she didn’t return. “If necessary, I could shield the Floo connection when you called me so that no one else would be able to listen in.”

            Briseis rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, considering him. “You’re impossible.”

            “I hope that means you won’t be leaving me?” Harry was well-aware that not all the professors he wanted to hire would probably stay, once they learned exactly how much power he wielded in Hogwarts and the costs to their reputations in the outside world. Ron, too, had been very quiet the past few days, although Hermione had accepted his offer of the position as History of Magic professor. Harry wondered who else he would lose before this was done.

            “No,” Briseis said, giving him a flat look as she raked her fingers through her hair. “Who exactly do you think would arrange your schedule and coordinate everything you need if I leave?”

            “I would have to hire someone else,” Harry said simply. “But will you tell me what really worries you that much about this dinner?”

            Briseis sighed. “Lucius Malfoy is cunning,” she said bluntly. “There’s no reason to think that he would agree to this invitation without an ulterior motive.”

            “Draco said that he wanted to make sure Draco wasn’t falling into a trap or slavery,” Harry said quietly. He was thinking of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Lucius and Narcissa doing anything they could to defend their son. “I can believe it. He really does love Draco.”

            “But there’s nothing else?” Briseis leaned her hip on his desk and looked him in the eye. “I think that’s what Mr. Malfoy believes, and I know that he honors you with the confidence.” She muttered the last words between gritted teeth. “Nothing that Lucius Malfoy might want from you, beyond making sure his son is safe?”

            “Can you think of anything concrete?”

            Briseis sighed. “No. I’m asking you if you can.”

            Harry shrugged at her, smiled. “You’re the political expert here, and I’m only the one with large amounts of power. If you can’t imagine what he wants, I think I can’t, either, until I get there.”

            Briseis stood up a little straighter. “As long as you acknowledge that there could be ulterior motives.”

            Harry nodded. “I’m inexperienced enough not to be able to imagine what they are, not stupid. I’ll shield the Floo calls if you have to make one, and I’ll question Draco if he wants to share anything else with me.” He winked at Briseis. “He’s the one I’m considering a closer alliance with, you know, and not his father.”

            Briseis didn’t smile back. “I would not like to imagine what might happen if Lucius Malfoy learned that,” she said quietly. “Hold it back.” And she swept out of the room with his schedule dangling from one hand.

            Harry sighed and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to tell Briseis that, from what Draco had said and hinted at in the letter, Harry was pretty sure Lucius already knew.

            And if that was the case…

            I’ll deal with it when I need to.

            It was a philosophy that he hadn’t needed to change yet.

*

            delia cerrano: Yes, but the Ministry thinks that they aren’t illegal when it does them.

            SP777: No, I really don’t. I’m not trying to be annoying; I just don’t know what you mean.

            It’s been four or five years since the war; Harry was in his first year as an Auror. So they’re 22-23.

            kain: Well, the emphasis should be on the you in that sentence. Harry does think that he has enemies that can hurt him, but that wizard is not one of them.

            moodysavage: The Ministry does not intend to publicize this.

            BAFan: Thanks! I keep wondering whether I’ll have to change this story’s rating. But maybe I’ll just save all the sex for the sequel.

            CareLessLover: I think the British wizarding world relies a lot on the press, as witness the way the public’s opinion of Harry changed every time the Daily Prophet reported something. Only if Harry takes over some publicity can he get them to see his perspective.

            alexkdp: Please don’t apologize! I hope your life improves soon, and I was glad you liked the chapter.
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Easy as Falling