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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimers: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros. I make nothing from this. In fact, I lose money to write this, so… no suing, ‘kay?

Chapter List
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Disclaimers and Warnings: Both are located in chapter 1.

Author’s Notes: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! Jokes, darling, you’re the best! Also, I’d like to apologise for the length of time that it took for this chapter to come out. Writer’s Block plus a writing frenzy for Wooing the Reluctant equals no work on this story or Here But For the Grace of Merlin for a long time. Trust me, it was annoying.

Chapter Twenty-Four —Not Okay With All Right

Dumbledore bit back a sigh as he watched Harry’s progress up the staircase to his office. Since the outing of his and Mr Malfoy’s relationship three days ago, both boys had been quiet and withdrawn from the limited group of people that had stayed at Hogwarts over the holiday season. A few times since then, Dumbledore had found his young protégé in the library—pouring over his homework—or with Draco Malfoy as the blond called upon his recuperating mother in the infirmary.

Harry wasn’t like he was during fifth year, thankfully. His anger was quite justified in this instance—not that Albus was going to deny that Harry should have been angry about the deaths of both Cedric Diggory and Sirius Black. It felt as though this time it was so much worse than the previous times, however. Every morning, he and Draco received huge amounts of mail—so much so that the remaining professors were having difficulty keeping up. Even banishing the Howlers sent had only lessened the great amounts very little. That was part of the reason that he had called the young man to come see him privately while Draco sat with Narcissa on New Year’s Eve.

The other part had to do with the inevitable fight between the young man and Voldemort. It was time that Dumbledore explained a few things he had discovered in the last few months while Harry and Draco became friends—and more. He also wished to discuss Draco’s situation with the Death Eaters now that the information about his relationship had come to light.

There was a final thing that he wished to discuss with Harry, but as of yet, the headmaster was still at a loss as to how to address it.

A loud knock on his office door startled the old wizard from his brooding thoughts and he quickly forced himself back into the here and now. “Come in, my dear boy,” he said miserably, giving Harry a sad smile as the boy walked through the office door. “Please, sit down. Lemon sherbet?” he offered, trying to make this meeting no different than their previous sessions.

Harry shook his head vehemently as he crossed the room. “You wished to talk to me, sir?” the boy asked as he sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs before the headmaster’s desk.

“Yes, Harry, I did,” Albus responded. “Would you like some tea before we begin? We have a lot to discuss in a short amount of time, so perhaps refreshment might be in order before we grow too serious.”

He watched as Harry’s normally warm green eyes narrowed in examination. Albus made it a point to make sure that his face was as open as humanly possible. It would have been too much effort to attempt to hide his weariness from Harry on this day. “Yes, please,” he said after a few moments of pregnant silence.

“There are a few things that we need to go over, but I will start with the niceties first,” the headmaster said cordially as he set about conjuring a tea service, complete with chocolate covered biscuits. “How is the Malfoy family faring?”

“Narcissa’s recovering pretty nicely,” Harry answered as he took his cup of tea. “Madam Pomfrey assures us all that the baby is doing well also. Draco, of course, is happy to hear that they’re doing well. He says that once Narcissa can actually sit up, they’ll exchange Christmas gifts. It’s the situation with Ron that he’s having issues with. You’d think it was him that had a friend turn against...” Harry paused. “I just remembered the thing with Parkinson and Zabini. Ugh.”

“I’m surprised that he finds Ronald’s action so devastating. Their animosity is almost as famous as the formal rivalry between yourself and Draco.”

“I don’t think it’s so much as Ron did that to him, but that my supposed best friend would throw me to the wolves like that,” Harry growled.

“And how do you feel about this whole thing?”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he thought things over. “Well, to be honest, Ron and I haven’t really been friends since the beginning of the school year.” He gave another sigh—this one so big that Albus worried that the boy would actually begin crying. “He, uh, he’s too inflexible. Ron didn’t want to think that maybe you’d let Draco return for a reason that we weren’t allowed to know.”

“Ah, but you’ve known for a while now just why Draco returned to school this year,” Albus said. “Why did you not explain to him, as I’m sure you told Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom, what the situation was?”

“Because it would’ve required that Ron removed his head out of his arsehole long enough to listen to anything that any of us had to say,” Harry spat. “Sorry, Headmaster.”

“No need, my boy. I can understand how one’s best friend can drive one to distraction. Did you have any indication that Ronald would have done something like this?”

“Truthfully, I can’t tell you what Ron’s capable of anymore. Course, I guess he’d say the same thing about me. I s’pose that we just outgrew each other, but I never really thought that he’d run to Rita Skeeter with my private life so it could be splashed all over the front the Daily Prophet. Neville sent Draco and me a letter warning us to watch out, but this is something that neither of us foresaw.”

“I have spoken to Molly and Arthur recently and there is the option to refuse Ronald re-entry to Hogwarts.”

“Forget it. If that happened, the Wizarding world would just see it as you siding with me because I’m the Boy Who Lived, and it would increase Draco’s hate mail. He doesn’t need that.”

“That brings up the issue of the mail that has been arriving for you and Draco since this revelation,” Albus said as he poured himself another cup of tea. “I understand that the Howlers are arriving to you directly. Sadly, there is no way to intercept them before that happens. None have included anything too outrageous, have they?”

Harry just looked at him for a minute. “They’re all outrageous, Headmaster. None of those judgemental pricks know a thing about the kind of person Draco is. They all think he’s some reincarnation of his father.”

“Much as you and Ronald Weasley thought of him before this year?” Albus asked with a small smile.

Harry had the decency to flush. “Yeah, well, we were kids. A lot of those Howlers are coming from adults,” he grumbled. “Besides, Skeeter didn’t help with her stupid article. It made me seem as if I was some poor imbecile that was just taken in by the big, bad Slytherin. Or was she trying to make me seem like some great redeemer of all the mislead Death Eaters? I couldn’t rightly tell.”

“That is beside the point at this time, I fear. What would you like to happen to Ronald because of this situation?”

“I say let Mr and Mrs Weasley deal with it. Otherwise, it might show as favouritism. I could use a little less pressure on that front, thanks.”

“And you will be informing Draco of this then?”

“Yeah, I guess. As for the mail,” Harry said, showing his intelligence, “if it’s not from close friends or family, burn it. Draco and I are used to the rest of the crap and could stand to ignore it.”

Albus found himself nodding at the wisdom and maturity the young man was showing. “That is probably for the best. Now that those issues have been handled, as such, I am forced to bring up the main reason for this meeting.”

“Voldemort.”

Albus nodded.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You will have to forgive me, my son,” Narcissa said as she looked at Draco with her crystal clear blue eyes, her pretty mouth twisted into a moue of undisguised disgust. “I still find it difficult to believe that you and Mr Potter were able to set so many things to the side to be as…intimate as you have become.”

Draco sighed inwardly at his mother’s obvious distaste at his choice of partner. He knew that his father would not have been happy, but he had hoped that she would at least be a little more open, considering he was actually happy for once. “Mother, I have tried to explain this to you, but I will attempt again, if it will make you happy.”

“Yes, please do enlighten me, Draco,” she said tiredly. He watched as she rubbed at her belly where she was beginning to show and frowned again. “It is not that I am not displeased that you are happy. I can see that when Mr Potter is here with you. And it does make how you obsessed over him in the past much easier to accept. I just cannot fathom how he has managed to overlook the animosity he has of your father long enough to have any sort of actual relationship, my Dragon.”

“I thought the same way, to be honest,” Draco answered eventually. “I wondered how on Earth Harry was going to see me as Draco instead of as a facsimile of Father. It seems that he watched me all of last year, when I spent more time helping my housemates than torturing Gryffindors and trying to get him into trouble.” He could see his mother’s confusion still and continued to explain. “When I returned last year, after Father and the others returned to us,” he tried to tread carefully with this part because he didn’t know how his mother still felt about the rest of their family, “I was very worried about your safety, Mother. I didn’t walk around with Crabbe and Goyle or even Pansy and Blaise half as much. I did a lot of introspective thinking.”

“Yes, I remember that I thought you were maturing much more since you weren’t mentioning Potter quite as much as you had used to,” Narcissa said with a faint, but radiant smile. Draco could feel the tension in his shoulders releasing just a tiny bit. “I suppose I was half-right.”

“I ran into him when I first entered Hogwarts after being ordered by the Dark Lord and Father. He met me on my way to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. We had a few more run-ins after that, and I sadly was the only one around when he had one of his visions and—”

“So, the Dark Lord was not just being paranoid about Potter being in his head then?” Narcissa cut across him. If she hadn’t sounded so terrified, he would have been annoyed at her greatly.

“Yes, that’s true, but Dumbledore and Snape have both attempted to teach him Occlumency.”

“Can he Occlude, my son?”

“I haven’t actually checked, Mother, but I plan on rectifying that as soon as I can after this conversation. As I was saying, I took care of him after he had one of his visions and it appeared that we’d come to an unspoken truce from then on. We avoided one another as much as we could, considering we shared nearly every class since there are so few seventh years that returned.

“At the end of September, I was accosted by a group of Hufflepuffs from behind as I took a walk around the Black Lake. I made it to the library, which was safer for me than most of the school and is closer to the entrance than the hospital wing. Harry and Neville were there and would not let me leave on my own. They insisted on taking me to the infirmary, and since then it’s as if we have been friends since we began Hogwarts.”

“They have just forgiven you for what you’ve done to them?” she asked incredulously.

“Mother, I had to apologise, of course,” Draco answered with a curl to his lips. “However, I would do it again if it meant that I could have Harry and the others by my side.”

Narcissa sighed. “And you are happy, are you not, Draco?”

“Yes, Mother,” he said immediately.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. Now, explain to me what has been happening in the world outside of these walls since I arrived.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius paced back and forth as he fumed once again. He’d been like this for days—ever since the Daily Prophet had run that wretched article about his son and Harry Potter being lovers. He had sent Draco a scathing letter, demanding that he denounce the Boy Who Lived as anything but the filthy, uncouth Half-blood he was and threatening disownment if he refused. He’d received no response.

The next day, he had found himself being punished by his Lord for disobedience where his son was concerned. Yet again, Lucius found himself being tortured because his son had stepped outside of the bonds of family and duty to fornicate with the enemy. Of course, he had written the letter that the Dark Lord had requested, adding in his own remarks about his thoughts about Draco’s behaviour and the consequences should he fail to return home for the Easter holidays.

Surprisingly, Bellatrix had become a great ally in his ire against Draco. While she appeared to be as insane as ever in front of the other Death Eaters—even Rudolphus and Rabastan— she was much more sane and scheming behind the privacy of Lucius’s study door. And tempting… She’d taken to dressing much more sensually when there were no meetings with their Lord and grooming herself as befitting a daughter of one of the oldest and purest lines of the Wizarding world.

She was as stunning as his late wife had been, but dark and sensuous where Narcissa had been pale and cool. While his bed at night remained empty, he was not without Bellatrix’s many charms and skills.

When everything was over, he would have Rudolphus killed—if he didn’t manage to have the man killed during the upcoming skirmish with the ineffectual light side or take him out himself—and have Bella as his new bride. They would make a study in light and dark features and he was sure she’d manage to give him a suitable replacement for Draco with little problem. He might even let Lestrange’s child live. The line needed its own heir after all, and there was no way that either Rudolphus or his weak brother would be surviving the war if Lucius had any say in the matter.

A knock on his study door dragged Lucius’s attention from his thoughts and he stopped his pacing. “Come in,” he called. He wasn’t worried about the person on the other side meaning him any harm. They would not have been able to touch the wood of the door if they had, and the sound of their screams of pain would have echoed throughout the halls of Perfidious Albion if they’d been stupid enough to come in without his permission.

The door opened and revealed an annoyed Severus Snape. “Lucius, why did you not tell me that my godson has been so stupid as to entangle himself with that walking target?”

“Because, Severus, I assumed that you could read as much as I could,” Lucius drawled, shoving his anger down as far as was humanly possible. “I was unaware that you had lost that skill. Perhaps you might want to hire an assistant for your brewing then, my old friend.”

“Don’t be facetious,” Severus shot back, his sallow face nearly white with rage. “I cannot make Astoria or Daphne co-operate if they believe they will not be rewarded with something adequate. Young Astoria has had her heart set on that boy since she first saw him.”

“Before her parents turned traitor, she would have been a good match for my heir. However, since he is obviously queer and the bum boy of Harry Potter, she will continue to pine away for him before her untimely death.” Lucius gave Severus a cold and bland smile. “If her uncle does not agree to help us, that is.”

“Of course,” the Potions Master replied blandly. “I have the potion ready for Blueshanks, if you and Bellatrix are ready to put it to use. I soon leave to help the Lestrange brothers with their procurement of certain items that I require for something for your son and his…boyfriend.”

Lucius turned on his friend, wand drawn, and found that Severus had beaten him to the draw. “You will refrain from using that word with my son in the same sentence.”

“You will not draw your wand on me, Lucius. You must face the reality that Draco is in a homosexual relationship with Potter, at least for the moment. That is part of the reason you requested this potion through Bellatrix, is it not?”

“Yes, yes,” Lucius answered impatiently. “I will not apologize.”

“I never expected you to,” was the reply he received as Severus made his way to the study door. “If you should need anything from me, you know how to reach me.”

When he was alone again, Lucius began plotting how to get the Sexuality Correction potion on his son’s skin without that fool Dumbledore interfering.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked over the headmaster’s massive desk and studied the older man for a few silent, tense minutes. His mentor had never looked older. His blue eyes were no longer twinkling and the lack of the mysterious smile that he normally wore brought attention to the many wrinkles that he had won over the many long years. Even his long, white beard appeared to be limp and dull.

“I’m afraid, my dear boy, that I have finally ascertained what it is that he has been doing since the time of his resurrection that fateful night,” he said tiredly.

The mention of the night of Cedric’s death made Harry sad, but he shoved the remorse he felt down into a box where he kept all such emotions nowadays. “And you’re going to tell me now.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said succinctly. “According to a few of my correspondents in northern Africa, there have been a surprising number of visits from known Death Eaters to countries such as Libya and Algeria, and even to Arabia. I was able to speak to my old friend Nicholas Flamel about what could be ascertained from these countries, and he replied back that that was where he did his research and apprenticeship for the Philosopher’s stone all those many years ago.”

“So, Voldemort is looking into another Philosopher’s stone?” Harry asked, his attention completely focussed on the older wizard now. “I thought he didn’t need that now that he’s back.”

“Yes, I was unaware that he had access to a Philosopher’s stone before his first defeat by you and your mother sixteen years ago. It appears that a well-known alchemist in Albania, a Mr Ivan Kronovitch, came up missing while Voldemort was there studying. According to Mr Kronovitch’s associates, he had an apprentice at the time, an English wizard that they’ve described as rather creepy and disgusting.”

“They actually said that?” Harry asked, feeling a little bubble of hysterical laughter building.

“Well, they didn’t use those words, I can assure you, but that was what Nicholas said he caught from the gist of their conversations. It appears that when Mr Kronovitch disappeared, his friends went looking for him. They found his home and laboratory up in flames. They were unable to ascertain what actually was taken, but the magical safe that was built into the foundation of his home had been blasted open and all of his research was gone.”

“So, you think he’d made a Philosopher’s stone as well?”

“While my friend is credited with the discovery of the Philosopher’s stone, he is not the first nor the last wizard—or Muggle for that matter—to study that branch of magic. I believe that Nicholas was the first to produce the stone, with my assistance. It is possible Kronovitch was able to make his own, as the research isn’t entirely proprietary.”

“Okay, so Voldemort had a Philosopher’s stone…what? Thirty years ago?”

“That seems to be about the correct time,” Dumbledore said, pouring them both another cup of tea and pushing the plate of biscuits closer to Harry. “I have also spent some time since speaking with Nicholas studying the ruined diary of Tom Riddle. There appears to be residual magic that has nothing to do with the enchantment that allowed Miss Weasley and yourself to speak to the teenaged Riddle. I sent it to Nicholas, and he assures me that it was used an anchor.”

“An anchor?”

“Yes, according to Nicholas, when one takes the time to refine the Philosopher’s stone to create the Elixir of Life, one must have a focal point, or an anchor, for your body to keep from aging or your mind from going totally insane.”

“Um, then can you explain Voldemort to me?” Harry asked flippantly. “Because, the last time I checked, he was completely barking.”

“Yes, it does appear that Tom is no longer sane, but I believe that it is partially genetic since his mother’s side of the family was extremely inbred for the purposes of keeping the Gaunt line pure, and it is partially environmental. He spent a lot of time around the purebloods in the Slytherin house, knowing that he was the last heir to the great Salazar Slytherin, but he was only a half-blood. You can imagine what that does to one after a long time. Self-loathing can do terrible things to an already delicate psyche.”

He’s acting as if Voldemort and I don’t come from… OH! Harry blinked at his mentor and sighed. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said eventually, “but that doesn’t excuse him for all the horrible things he’s done.”

“No, I would agree with you there, Harry. Now, since the original anchor that Voldemort used has been destroyed, and so spectacularly, by you, Nicholas hypothesised that the anchor would have transferred to the thing closest to the originator as possible.”

“You think it’s Nagini then.”

“That is a logical assumption at this point.” Dumbledore readjusted his half-moon spectacles absently. “There is also the fact that one must consume the Elixir of Life every fifteen years. Even if we say that Tom took a dosage right before the attack in Godric’s Hollow, he is beyond the time frame for his next.”

“So that means his body has begun to age again?”

“I can only assume so, but because of the Blood Magic that he and Peter Pettigrew invoked that night in the graveyard, he has—in essence—become a Potter. And Blood Magic can only be corrected by those of the same blood.”

“Hence the reason why the prophesy is so important,” Harry added with a heavy sigh. “Wonderful. Tell me what I can do then.”

TBC

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The End Shall Come, And We Will Dance Forever