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The Marriage of True Minds	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 55083 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter Twenty-Eight--Closing the Distance

            "I wanted to say sorry, Mrs. Malfoy."

            She turned to him, and her face was so cold and remote that Harry winced in spite of himself. She looked like a marble statue standing there, her pale hair coiled behind her shoulders, her hands folded in front of her as though they were holding an invisible skein of wool. She looked like statues Harry had seen of Fate, in fact, the few times he had run into Dark wizards who used such things.

            "If you were," she said, her voice soft, demanding, relentless, "you would call me by the first name I have, multiple times, given you permission to use, rather than by my married name."

            Harry winced again. He was sure there were all sorts of hidden messages in those words, like the part where she called Malfoy her "married" name rather than her "family" name. He knew the distinction was important to pure-bloods, although he didn't know exactly what the distinction was.

            If you're going to be part of this family, possibly forever, don't you think you ought to learn?

            "Sorry, Narcissa," he said.

            She relaxed minutely, enough to walk around him to the couch that stood behind him. Harry sat down facing her, fighting the impulse to fold his arms or perch on the very edge, although they were defensive maneuvers he would have liked to use. They would make him look too much like he was on the edge of bolting, he knew, and, accurate impression or not, he didn't want to confirm that.

            "Tell me why this is so hard for you," she said, sitting on the couch in a graceful, elegant way that made it look like the only way people should ever do it.

            "The apology?" Harry asked, trying to keep from staring at the delicate patterns in the marble on the walls. Blue and silver veins. He had no way of knowing whether they were natural or not, and no polite way that he could think of to ask. "Or calling you by your first name?"

            "Calling me by my first name." Narcissa leaned towards him, and Harry blinked. Was it his imagination, or was there a slight tremor in her voice? Did she actually care about this in a way that went deeper than just caring about his rudeness? He remembered Draco saying that he'd hurt her, but...

            "Has someone who asked that of you hurt you?" Narcissa continued. "I could understand the reaction, though I would also ask you to acknowledge and travel past it, for the sake of the comfort of both of us."

            "Uh," Harry said. "It's just...you're in a position of authority. Draco obviously respects you a lot. You're a rightful part of the family and the house. It would feel like calling one of the victims' relatives that I worked with by first name when I was investigating a crime scene. They belong there. I don't."

            Narcissa closed her eyes. She looked pained. Harry did fold his arms this time. Lying upset her, telling the truth upset her, and being himself upset her. He reckoned that being a Malfoy might not, but he couldn't think of himself that way, and he doubted he would even if the marriage bond worked out. He would still remember how he came to be here, the fact that the bond had forcibly changed his name, and that he had once thought of the people who had this name as enemies.

            It was one thing to consider that they might be better people than he had ever acknowledged in Hogwarts. It was another thing to consider himself one.

            "This is your family," Narcissa whispered. "This is your home."

            "But so were my parents," Harry pointed out, "and the house where they died. So are the Weasleys, and so is the Burrow." He tried to smile, because he felt that someone should, with the relentless tide of gloom creeping into the conversation. "Maybe the problem is that I have too many families rather than not enough."

            Narcissa shook her head. "You feel discomfort with your surroundings, and with the ideals that we hold dear," she said. "What can we do to make them more familiar to you, more comforting?"

            Harry shifted his weight. Another tactic that he hadn't expected her to pursue. He had thought she would get up and walk away from him, the way that Draco had a reason to do if he really wanted to marry Laura.

            Why should anyone have to give up anything for me? I made a bargain with Draco, that's one thing. But I didn't make a bargain with her.

            He wished the situation could be more like it was with the Weasleys, where they simply folded around him and that was it, that was the whole of the process, he was just there and one of them. But then again, maybe that would have felt like he was betraying the Weasleys if it happened. He just didn't know.

            "I don't want you to give anything up," he said. "Or--or change yourselves, or something, just to make me more comfortable."

            Narcissa examined him through narrowed eyes. Then she twisted her head to the side and said, "You are not used to people putting your comfort first."

            Harry snorted. "Yes, the madman who chased me throughout my childhood was the first indication that it wasn't everyone's top priority."

            "But even those who declare good intentions towards you are distrusted," Narcissa said. "And it has something to do with family, with the fact that you can't imagine someone who considers you family putting herself out for you."

            Harry felt as though he had a target pinned to his back that someone had already shot with two arrows, and now they were aiming the third. He had to assume they would hit, unless he could distract them. "That's because of the orphan thing," he said. "And Molly Weasley acted like my mum. She was the first person I'd ever met who did, except my actual mum, and I only have one memory of her." Wild unicorns couldn't convince him to say what that memory was, either.

            Narcissa's gaze sharpened. "A family is missing from your list," she said. "The Muggle one who raised you."

            Harry sat still. The walls of the room could have fallen in on him and he would have felt less like he needed to get away. But he sat still, because running would have confirmed too many of the conclusions now stirring behind Narcissa's eyes. There was still the chance that he could extricate himself from this relatively unharmed if he sat still.

            "No one in that family acted like a mother to you," Narcissa said. "Although I believe I remember hearing somewhere that Lily Potter had a sister."

            Harry met her gaze. Not for long, though, because a violent twitching in the corner of his right eye made him look away. He swallowed loudly as he did, and wondered why in the world he was just sitting here like an idiot instead of arguing with her that he had a good life and no one had hurt him or abused him or offended him.

            Because it's not true.

            Since when does that have to do with anything, when it involves the Dursleys?

            "What did they do to you, Harry?"

            Harry reached deep, deeper than he had reached when he was working up the strength to do the ritual despite Draco's interruption at the door, deeper than he had reached when he was trying to find the will to continue with the Horcrux hunt. The only times he could compare to it were when he had to walk into the Forbidden Forest to die and when he had to hold back the monster dwelling inside him so that Draco would have a chance of surviving.

            I can do this. I'm stronger than the memories of my childhood. They had a part in making me who I am, but they're not the whole of me.

            "The same thing that any family raising a child does," he said evenly, and this time he managed to meet Narcissa's gaze. "Some bad things, some good things. Taught me moral lessons. Fed and sheltered me. Scolded me, but let it go in the end. Stared at me uneasily sometimes, wondering how I would turn out."

            "I think the staring and the scolding were much the most frequent."

            Harry nearly snarled, and then remembered that he didn't have to confirm the guesses she made. He merely shrugged and smiled, and Narcissa leaned back on the couch as if she wanted to study his face from this new angle.

            "It would explain much," she said, as if talking to someone else, "from the unease that you feel at claiming another family as your own, to your insistence on staying out of the way and at a distance from the interactions between us that you regard as important."

            "It would explain a lot," Harry agreed, confident now that he would get through this because he hadn't run when she first made the guess, "if it was true."

            "And it is not?"

            "Not in the slightest," Harry said, and showed off his teeth.

            Narcissa watched him, and Harry had to turn his head away in the end. He hated that curiosity showing in her eyes now. He'd seen it before, in the faces of reporters who had assumed they were in a good position to track down the Dursleys, and that he would talk to them if they did. They wanted to know what had happened to him, not to help, but simply to know. He hadn't expected it from Narcissa, but then again, it was merely a sign of how little he fit with the Malfoys.

            "Do you accept my apology?" he asked abruptly, standing. "Only I agreed to meet Draco in Diagon Alley at noon, and I think I'll be late."

            "Accepted," Narcissa said. "If you will come back to me tomorrow and we will speak of this again."

            Harry grimaced. "I'd prefer not to," he said. If she cared for his comfort as much as she said she did, maybe she would accept the deep reluctance in his voice and let it go.

            "Does that mean that you will not?" Narcissa looked the picture of serenity now, gazing up at him as if her only interest in his actions was what he would do next. Her hands stayed clasped in front of her. Her breathing didn't stir the front of her gown. Harry wondered if she was breathing.

            "I don't want to," Harry repeated. "Please don't make me."

            He hated to reveal that much, in a way, because it would tell Narcissa that she'd stumbled onto something important. But it might also hold her off, and he was gratified to see that the curiosity dimmed in her eyes, and turned into something else. Of course, the "something else" was no more comfortable for him, and he turned away and paced to the door of the sitting room, nervous with energy.

            "You may go, Harry," Narcissa said. "And I will not ask you to speak to me about your Muggle family until you want to."

            Until, not unless, Harry thought. She's still arrogant enough to believe that I should.

            But gratitude was the strongest emotion he felt right now, so he nodded and smiled and saved breaking into a run until he was at the door of the Manor.

*

            "We really have to go to an apothecary?"

            Draco smiled at the distaste in Harry's voice, but kept his eyes fixed on the street ahead and the people who swirled and darted there, some of them getting out of the way, some of them gathering into clumps to speculate about what business Draco Malfoy and Harry Malfoy could have together even as a married couple, and some of them simply going about their normal business. "Do you have some objection to them?"

            "You try being a student Snape didn't favor and seeing how you like them," Harry muttered.

            "I must admit that they're not my favorite place even as a student Snape did like," Draco said, and steered Harry adroitly up the steps of Aoife's. "But we need ingredients for your ritual that we won't find anywhere else."

            "If you insist," Harry muttered, and then looked around with stunned appreciation on his face as Draco drew him further into the shop. Draco hid a smirk. Aoife's tended to take people like that when they were seeing it for the first time.

            It wasn't that it was different from so many other apothecaries in the basic setup. Barrels of less sensitive and more common ingredients, such as bat wings, lizard tongues, and dragonfly eyes, occupied the wall near the door, with scoops for the discerning customer to make his own choice. The counter was on the wall opposite the door, with rarer ingredients behind it. On shelves safely out of casual reach and warded against a Summoning Charm sat cages, boxes, mortars, pestles, cauldrons, stretched skins, vials, glasses, cups, stirring rods, flower presses, and numerous other objects that Draco wouldn't expect Harry to understand or appreciate.

            But Aoife's was not dark and dim in the way that so many other apothecaries were. The inside of the shop was filled with light, beaming softly from the moonflower specimens that the current owner grew from jars behind the counter and attached to the ceiling. The predominant smell was sweet, the elusive scent of many different kinds of flowers, rather than the dust or the blood that seemed to perfume other apothecaries in Draco's experience. And the walls were of wood and decorated with carvings of Quidditch players, the symbols of the Hogwarts Houses, and graceful unicorns, as if to prove that the owner was an ordinary wizard like anyone else.

            Or witch, in this case. As far as Draco knew, it was always a witch who had owned Aoife's, or at least worked in the front. She stepped towards them with a nod now, a tall woman with immaculate grey hair. She wore white gloves on her hands that led up to the elbows and were stained with runnels of red and brown. "Can I help you gentlemen?" If she saw Harry's scar, she saw no reason to indulge in excitement, but chose Draco as the more experienced consumer and focused on him.

            "Yes," Draco said, and pulled out the list he'd made. "We need six sunflower leaves, three ounces of shaved silver, five pegasus hooves--halved, mind you--and two dried adder skins."

            "Hmm," the apothecary murmured. "I have the leaves and the hooves. It's going to take me a few days to acquire that much silver."

            "We can wait," Draco assured her. Among other things, those few days would give him and Harry the chance to spend more time in each other's company, and perhaps teach Draco what the hell he wanted to do.

            "I don't believe we've met," Harry interrupted, smiling at the apothecary and ignoring the way Draco stared at him. That was more casual friendliness than he got from Harry even now.

            He swallowed the jealousy and gave a small bow to Harry before turning to the woman. "Harry Potter, this is Jeanette Rabelais. Madam Rabelais, Harry Potter."

            Madam Rabelais nodded with no change of expression, and Draco could almost see that endearing her to Harry even as he watched. He ignored the temptation to grouse to himself. All right, so he would never treat Harry as though they hadn't crossed paths before. That didn't make it a goal to aspire to.

            "Thank you," Harry said. "Are any of the ingredients on the list illegal, Madam Rabelais?"

            Draco choked. That was a question he wouldn't have asked, and he opened his mouth to scold Harry for rudeness--

            Then he realized that the reason he wouldn't ask was that he knew already, and closed his mouth, wincing. Harry really should understand the legality and illegality of certain ingredients better than he did, and he had a responsibility to try and learn, as an Auror. If Madam Rabelais could teach him without offending him, Draco should stand back and let her try.

            She looked at Harry carefully now, as if to ask whether he was making fun of her, and then seemed to decide it was ignorance, the way Draco had, rather than deliberate discourtesy. She shook her head. "Silver and sunflowers are naturally occurring ingredients; the wait for the silver will happen only because I never keep that much of it on hand. Most potions require small amounts."

            Harry nodded, paying focused, serious attention. Draco turned away to examine a barrel of dried toads so that he wouldn't feel that stupid, foolish jealousy.

            It was just...he and Harry had come here as one of their "dates," spending time in an ordinary setting, and Harry seemed to want to find someone else he could talk to instead. Draco would have liked a few more words addressed his way.

            "And the pegasus hooves?" Harry asked. "I thought those were classified as non-tradable, since pegasi are magical creatures."

            Draco could hear the smile in Madam Rabelais's voice. He didn't torment himself by turning around to watch it. "Pegasi are also raised as mounts and show horses by a great many people, Mr. Potter. One can call them domesticated and common. Their hooves are no trouble to obtain."

            "And the adder skins?" That came after a long, slow pause in which Harry seemed to be considering whether he could accept that definition of domesticated. Draco rolled his eyes to relieve his feelings. Harry was such a Muggle sometimes.

            "They are also readily obtainable." Madam Rabelais's voice had acquired a rough cadence that Draco had heard in it before when he was asking whether her ingredients were fresh. "May I ask whether you have some reason to suspect that I would trade illegal ingredients, Auror Potter?"

            Draco smiled and turned around again. Harry had flushed, and he turned one hand up in what was probably an unconscious gesture to demonstrate that he didn't have a wand. He shook his head.

            "I didn't mean for my questions to come off as an interrogation," he said. "But we need these ingredients for a ritual that I want to perform, and there would be hard questions later if any of them turned out to be illegal. I don't know much about potions."

            Draco rolled his eyes, and didn't care who was watching him this time to see him do it. Harry didn't need to tell the woman that they needed the ingredients for a ritual, for fuck's sake. Draco would have been happy enough to keep that part of the business to themselves and let Madam Rabelais guess, or, as was more likely to happen, have her put the order out of her head as anything except business. On the other hand, he hadn't narrated the full list of ingredients, as there were some that he possessed himself. So Madam Rabelais would have a slight obstacle in her path even if she wanted to research what ritual they were performing.

            "I see," Madam Rabelais said at last. "So you were protecting yourself rather than considering the damage to my reputation if anyone found out that I had been selling illegal ingredients."

            "Er, yes," Harry said, and his flush deepened.

            But he had said one of the only things he could have that might have calmed her ire at him, Draco knew. Madam Rabelais didn't enjoy someone watching out for her, even when they claimed only the best of motives and she understood who they were. She nodded. "Very well. Then you will accept my reassurance that I am not doing any such thing, and that I will have the ingredients on hand when you call for them again. Give me three days for the silver." She nodded regally to Draco and turned her back, returning to the barrel of beetle scrapings that she was sorting through.

            Harry opened his mouth as if he would ask another question, but Draco took his arm and hustled him out of the shop. Harry went, though now and then he glanced back as if he assumed that Madam Rabelais was like one of his Dark wizards who would launch a spell at their retreating backs.

            "That was odd," Harry said.

            "The only odd thing was that you asked the question in the first place," Draco said, walking briskly and ignoring the stares this time. He wanted to get Harry to a private place where they could discuss this more easily. "Did you really think that I would take you to an apothecary with a dubious reputation?"

            "Really? Yes."

            Draco stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him, which increased the looks they were receiving until Draco thought some of the people trying to give them might faint from the effort. Harry was the one to snort this time and grab his arm, towing him forwards.

            "Why?" Draco was trying to keep his voice low so that they didn't give a free show to anyone else, but it was difficult. "Why the fuck would you assume that I wouldn't check out whether it was all right for you to enter an apothecary, that I wouldn't check that it sold illegal ingredients--"

            "Because that's the sort of thing that would occur to me," Harry said, "as an Auror and someone who has to worry about the Ministry investigating me at any time. But it's not necessarily something that would occur to you." He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes were bright and frank. "You've told me that pure-bloods are different and that you have different standards from me. I thought that this might be one of them. From things you've hinted, you don't mind a bit of illegality in your Muggle business."

            "That's not the world I have to live in," Draco said irritably. "And it's more threats than outright actions, anyway." Of course he would have paid attention to exactly what I didn't want him to pay attention to, instead of what's needed.

            "So you wouldn't commit crimes in the wizarding world, where it might get traced back to you?" Harry summarized.

            Draco shook his head. "Of course not."

            Harry blew out his breath, eyes narrowed as if he was contemplating an unsolvable problem. Draco didn't see why it had to be unsolvable. All Harry had to do was study pure-blood culture a bit more and admit that he might not know everything, and keep an open mind.

            "Look," Harry said at last. "Arguing like this gets us nowhere. What if I--if we agree to a conversation where we can ask each other honest questions, but refuse to answer questions that might be uncomfortable? And we do our best not to argue with each other's answers."

            Draco frowned. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to do. He still thought their best chance of getting to know each other was in ordinary surroundings, talking about ordinary things.

            But Gryffindors favored grand gestures, he knew. And this would at least be preferable to continuing the fruitless rows and wishing Harry would study up some more without having the power to compel him to.

            "Fine," he said. "Where should this take place?"

            "In your gardens," Harry said without hesitation.

            Draco blinked. "You want it at the Manor?"

            Harry glanced at him. "I want it in a private setting, where we can feel safe, but also in a place that's not familiar because of other conversations, like your rooms or mine. The garden it is."

            Draco nodded. "You needn't fear that I'll you get away with dictating everything," he said.

            Harry snorted. "You wouldn't be you if you did."

            Draco wasn't sure that that was meant to be a compliment, but on the other hand, he was wise enough not to ask and find out.

*

            polka dot: So does Harry!

            SP777: Harry's major problem is that he thinks Draco really doesn't feel much for him, given the business-like nature of the arrangement from his perspective, and won't. Draco's problem is that he knows he could be happy with Harry, but doesn't want to be the only one left with feelings, either.

            Wölkchen: Draco will participate in the ritual to see if they can free Harry, at least.

            Night the Storyteller: Harry won't pursue if it seems that Draco really doesn't want it.

            Silvry: Yes, I think you may be right. But they really can't remove the ring without destroying the bond in some way.

            unneeded: It does. And I don't think Harry recognizes that as real fear rather than simple reluctance.

            Eve: The problem with letting the spell fizzle is that Harry probably needs to at least think he's free of the marriage bond and it's not influencing him to feel comfortable.
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The Marriage of True Minds