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The Name I'll Give to Thee	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42158 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine--What The Daring May Do

Harry paused outside the Atrium and shut his eyes, gathering his strength in a single long, cold moment and movement, the coiling power pulling from his stomach.

I was the one who came up with this plan. I shouldn't even have told Draco about it if I didn't intend to go through with it.

The thought of Draco made him open his eyes and walk forwards. What he couldn't do for himself, he could do for someone depending on him.

For your husband. For your lover.

And that was the kind of thing he could think about later. Right now, the full might and force of his enemies was awaiting him.

The Atrium had never seemed like a particularly friendly place to Harry, though part of that undoubtedly came from the memories he had of battle there, and the simpering smiles of the faces of the new Fountain statue they'd put up after the war. But the Atrium of the past was a haven of cool, comfort, and calm compared to the one that awaited him now. A crowd of hostile eye from every direction tried to fill him full of invisible arrows. Aurors, secretaries, officials with no official rank, Ministry lackeys, and even a few Unspeakables watched, and leaned forwards, their posture telling him clearly that they had only come to watch him being conquered.

And off to the side were his friends, Hermione with her glance just as hard as the others but because of anxiety rather than anger, and Ron with his eyes eager and his fists clenched.

Someone else has been waiting for this day even longer than I have.

Harry walked the final few steps smiling. He ended up beside the fountain, with his back to it, a deliberate choice for those who wanted to read symbolism into such things. Draco had been the one to point out that they needed to appease that crowd, too, not just the usual suspects.

Harry met pair after pair of the eyes that watched him, and nodded coolly back to them. He was here, in the heart and center of the Ministry’s power, what he had once thought was destined to be his power, back when he had thought of being an Auror as a simple and uncomplicated destiny.

A month ago I was planning how to save the world. Then I was married, and the Ministry granted me a holiday and grumbled about it. They said they would celebrate, but they didn’t. How long have I been making myself an embarrassment to them?

Harry didn’t know, but he did know that that could stop now. The Ministry could stop pretending to give a shit. Harry could stop pretending to feel awful and bad every time he did something that the Ministry or his superiors didn’t like. Really, the arrangement would benefit everyone involved. Harry didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of something like this long ago.

Because you were still fighting to make them like you. You thought your life was worth nothing if they didn’t.

Harry grinned, and the smile was hard, and tight, and brilliant. He had thought that, but he was different now, and woe betide the Ministry if they thought he was the same and challenged him. Of course, after the little speech he was going to give, no one should think he was the same, but he had never given the Ministry that much credit for intelligence.

He waited until he was sure that most of the shifting people in the room had focused their attention on him, and not their notebooks or their stomachs or their desire to sit down or their need to go to the bathroom. Then he turned and faced the nearest hearth, his heart hammering in in his chest. He had tried to pull off a few of these grand symbolic gestures in the past, and they had always, always gone wrong.

            But he hadn’t had Draco Malfoy on his side at the time. This fireplace flared the way it was supposed to, the flames and smoke rose up and roared away, and there was Draco, stepping out of the Floo and shaking his cloak to rid it of the soot. By the time he stepped out into the Atrium and made his way to Harry’s side, it was spotless.

            Harry inclined his head to him, fiercely glad, his heart howling like a wolf inside him. Draco gave him the tiniest of smiles. They had agreed on that. Show too much emotion in public, and gossips would seize on it. No one should know that their relationship to each other had changed that much. Instead, they would give people something to gossip about later, and in the meantime, present even more of a united front than before.

            Draco’s hand did slip into Harry’s, and grip it, before he fell back towards the Fountain and let Harry face his challengers alone. Harry was the one who had thrown down the gauntlet, and so he was the one who would have to deal with the consequences.

            “I called you here today to make an announcement,” Harry said, his gaze traveling from face to face. His heart still beat wildly and his stomach still ached, but yes, all in all, this was easier than he had thought it would be. Perhaps he had always wanted to do this, the same way Ron had always wanted to see it, and he simply hadn’t acknowledged it to himself, because if he did, he would know he had rounded the point of no return. “I’m married to Draco Malfoy, yes, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve abandoned my allegiance to Auror work, or to saving the world, or to truth and right. But some Aurors have accused me of letting my marriage change me, as though people didn’t get married every day with much less fuss.”

            He had already located Eliot in the crowd, so he could turn and look at her. She flushed, but she was no coward, and she stepped forwards, her wand in her hand but lowered at her side. God knows we wouldn’t want anyone thinking she was the threat, Harry thought dryly.

            “You aren’t married to just anyone,” she said. “You’re married to a former Death Eater. And you’re not just anyone to get married, either. The Chosen One can’t do things and expect to be treated like a private citizen.”

            Harry spread his hands and widened his eyes. “But isn’t that just what you’ve decided I am? What I have to be, because otherwise it isn’t fair? When I break the rules, I’m punished like an ordinary Auror, because otherwise it would be favoritism. But at the same time, I have to hold up a higher standard, because I’m not like them.” He smiled at Eliot, but his words were for everyone, and his eyes touched on certain points in the crowd, certain watching faces, to make sure they knew that. “You have to decide which one is true, because I’ll tell you something, I’m really fucking sick of the double standard.”

            That caused a stir, the way he had known it would. Reporters scribbled. A few people in Auror robes, although Harry had never seen them among the field Aurors, exchanged hard glances. And someone in the back of the crowd looked as if he was about to begin pushing his way to the front.

            Eliot didn’t deign to take any notice of that. “I can’t answer for that,” she said. “I wasn’t the one who made the Ministry rules. But you have to realize that this much fame and power carries consequences and prices.”

            “I was eighteen when I defeated Voldemort,” Harry said, and laughed when the name made her flinch, after all these years. Draco had probably flinched, too, but everyone’s eyes were on Harry and not him. Harry could take the intense, hostile stares better, as the protector of his family right now, and he gloried in that, to know he had someone to protect even when he was doing the most selfish thing he’d ever done. “I had no choice. There was a prophecy, and I got dragged into it. And if you think that I should pay some kind of price for that, more than I’ve paid already, in grief and fear, then I’ll tell you what I think of people who let teenagers fight their wars.”

            Eliot just stared at him. Harry knew she had known that, so she probably just didn’t expect him to bring it up and didn’t have a counterattack for it.

            “You ought to know,” Harry continued, his voice growing stronger, “that I did that so the world wouldn’t die. And then I—and other people—sacrificed things again just a few weeks ago so the Dementor ghosts would stop attacking us. Even before we got any thanks, I learned about the price I had to pay.” He jerked his head at Draco, silent and watching, and thought he saw him flinch again. “In this case, it was my fault, and I was happy to atone. But now you’re telling me I have to pay the price for—what? For being the only person brave enough to do what was right instead of cowering in a corner? For saving the world twice, when most people never even have to save it once?”

            Eliot kept blinking, and then she looked over her shoulder, as though she expected someone to step forwards and rescue her. But no one else was going to volunteer, except perhaps the person Harry had already seen shoving to the front of the crowd. And he was nowhere in sight yet. Eliot had chosen this position on her own, and now she would have to bear the costs of it.

            To her credit, she seemed willing. She straightened her spine and her neck, and said, “Other people helped you. You weren’t the only one who took the brunt of You-Know-Who’s attacks, or the ghosts’ attacks.”

            “Then why don’t those people have to pay the same kind of price I do?” Harry asked, in a monotone. “Oh, I forgot. Those people don’t have the same kind of face and name recognition. They aren’t as easy to blame and shame. They aren’t as easy to guilt into doing whatever you want them to do.” His voice was rising, and he paused and pulled it back under control. “No one else in the Ministry who didn’t already care about me has ever cared about the extra threats I face because of my name, and now you tell me that it’s reasonable and expected for me to pay that price, but I can’t claim anything for myself because it might make me suspect.

            “Well, some of that is my fault.” Harry could feel Draco stirring behind him, ready to move forwards, but he waved his hand behind his back to make Draco stand still. He wasn’t really heading in that direction, although he could see why Draco might think he was. “I put up with it for so long that you began to think, I’m sure, I actually agreed with you. And I thought I did for years, that the alternative was to become some sort of Dark Lord myself.

            “No more. I don’t think like that anymore. I think I deserve the same level of respect and protection that all the other Aurors, all the other employees of the Ministry, get. You’ll start believing me now, and you won’t question my loyalty to the Ministry again. Because the very next person that does that is going to be responsible for Harry Malfoy quitting.”

*

            Draco could feel heat surging up his chest and throat like a brushfire, could feel himself having to swallow and swallow again against the temptation to break out laughing. Or maybe he would howl, or utter some mad combination of laughter and braying.

            I wanted to hear him say those words. Maybe not as much as Weasley did, maybe not as much as he needed to, but I wanted it.

            And I have the right to ask things of him now. He might not always grant them, but I can ask them.

            Draco took a step forwards to be more at Harry's side, smiling at the people whose eyes he caught. Yes, he had the right to ask those things of Harry, because Harry had granted him the right. No one else had it, except perhaps Harry's friends.

            For years, Harry had given the Ministry power over him. He understood that now, that the very power he was scared of wielding could have let him challenge them. Now he was making it a weapon against them instead of against himself.

            And it was wonderful.

            Draco met pair after pair of surprised or shocked eyes, and that was wonderful, too. He didn't need to move. He could stand there, and watch them reel back or step back cautiously or scribble or stand and stare, as was their nature.

            Someone had forced his way to the front of the crowd, though, and it seemed that he wouldn't be as tame as the Auror who had questioned them so far. He was a big, bulky man who looked vaguely familiar to Draco; perhaps he had seen him on one of his visits to the Ministry to answer the latest questions about the Manor and his family that the Ministry's lackeys had come up with. He had a long black beard, and snapping blue eyes, and he faced Harry without hesitation.

            "You didn't need to marry Malfoy to make up for what you supposedly did," he said. "You can divorce him at any time."

            Draco caught his breath, but not out of the fear someone suggesting another option to Harry once would have inspired. And he could see the delighted smile slowly widening on Harry's face, too. This had been the kind of thing he'd wanted to lead the conversation to, but he hadn't known if he would succeed.

            "I could divorce him, maybe," Harry agreed, "except that he provides me with things I want." His hand strayed sideways and gripped Draco's. Draco squeezed back, understanding perfectly well that this was only a pretense and that they didn't need to tell anyone else about their sex lives for this to count as a legitimate marriage. "And I don't want to give everyone who wants me divorced the satisfaction."

            "The satisfaction of counting you as a loyal Auror again?" The man folded his arms and gave Harry a scanning look, like a bear picking a weak spot.

            "The satisfaction of seeing me dead, or seeing Draco dead," Harry said, and put his head back and showed all his teeth.

            The man automatically put some distance between him and Harry, as if he suspected Harry would charge him right then. Draco wondered what exactly Harry's reputation in the Ministry had been, and how he could find out.

            "Who is he?" he whispered quickly to Harry, while the man was trying to figure out how to respond.

            "Brian Calumney," Harry breathed back, not taking his eyes from Calumney's face. "An Auror of twenty years' standing, and everyone's choice for the next Head Auror. He doesn't particularly like that I got into the Aurors on the strength of killing the Dark Lord."

            Calumney recovered before Draco could answer that. "You're arguing that someone who wants to see you divorced and your loyalty returned to the Ministry, and to your birth family, wants to kill you as well?" He shook his head. "You've always had a bad case of thinking the world revolves around you, Potter, but this is the worst I've seen."

            "First of all, my name is Malfoy, not Potter," Harry said. It made his friends look a little ill, but Draco had to admit that some of that could come from the caressing hand Draco laid on his shoulder, rather than the words. "Second, yes, it's rather hard not to think you're important when everyone tells you are from the time you're a child. And third, no. There have been numerous attempts on my life since I agreed to fulfill the debt I owed Draco, and some on Draco's."

            Silence, and people glancing at each other. Maybe because Calumney didn't seem to have an answer to that, the Auror who had been speaking before--Eliot, Draco remembered her name was--took over again. "Who would want to kill you for that?"

            "I don't know," Harry said, and let his eyes travel back and forth between the two of them, saying nothing more.

            "We might want to see you back where you belong," Calumney said gruffly. "That doesn't mean we would resort to murder."

            "Where I belong? When no one is ever satisfied with my behavior no matter what I do?" Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. I'd rather live with the enemies taking shots at me because I'm a Malfoy, visible enemies, than the invisible ones I had here. Enemies like Aurelius Shepherd at least want to kill me for a definable reason."

            It was a risk, mentioning the name like that, but Draco had agreed to it. Because they were in public, and that meant he could see reactions. His gaze was on the crowd and not Harry the minute Harry began speaking this time, because he knew what direction Harry was going in.

            There were a few people who caught their breath, a few people who paled. Draco thought he could dismiss them. They were either reacting to Harry's words, or they knew his cousin and might worry Draco or Harry would suspect them.

            But there was one person who jerked, his hand flying up before he snatched his arm back to his side.

            Blaise.

            Draco narrowed his eyes and looked down. Blaise might have seen his reaction already, but Draco would conceal it if he could. And he wanted to laugh at the vicious satisfaction that thrummed through him like a second heartbeat.

            Blaise had been his friend in the past, but for a special definition of "friend" that meant "people who had known each other long enough to know certain things." They had never been close, never fought on the same side of the war, never discussed family beliefs. It had just been assumed that they were the same. Draco had learned, too late, what not discussing beliefs with someone else could lead to. He had never suspected, for instance, that Vincent Crabbe was a much more devoted Death Eater than he was.

            But if Blaise wanted something badly enough, he would go after it. It made sense that he would try to remove Harry in one way if the first one he wanted didn't work. Perhaps not the attack on Draco in the Ministry had been his, but definitely the hiring of Madeline Robbs, whose fee Draco was sure his cousin couldn't have afforded.

            And now, there would be some revenge.

            Blaise had caught himself now, and simply stood there looking indifferent. Draco looked away from him and scanned the rest of the crowd. There might be someone else involved with the murder attempts here, perhaps the one that had happened to him in the bathroom at the party. He wouldn't pass up the chance to catch their other enemies simply because they seemed to have caught on to one large section of them.

            But no one else had reacted so recognizably. They just waited with parted lips for the next juicy piece of gossip.

            "Outside attempts to murder you have little to do with the Ministry," Calumney was objecting now.

            "But both of you make my life more difficult," Harry retorted. "And why should I come back to a place that hates me and tells me that I have no right to make claims on them even as it also tells me that I'm special and should makes claims? I'll never be treated normally here. I'll always be the hero or the scapegoat, never anywhere in-between. Either you promise that it'll change, or I walk."

            Eliot looked troubled, playing with her wand, but Calumney puffed himself up like a blowfish victim. "And you think to threaten us with that? In the end, you're only one small part of us, only one part of what makes this Ministry work, not the whole thing."

            Harry winced a little, and Draco knew why. This hadn't been the outcome he hoped for. Draco played with his fingers to let him know that someone still supported him.

            But Harry drew himself up with a little breath and nod, and Draco knew that, best of all, he wouldn't give in to the Ministry's ridiculous demands the way he had done in the past. Draco leaned back with a smile, and watched, and waited.

*

            That stung. No matter what happened, there was some level of blame. No matter what happened, someone wanted him to stay and devote his efforts to the Ministry, and at the same time wanted to say that he should do something extra, and then wanted to remind him in the same breath that he shouldn't expect anything special for his efforts, because that would be selfish.

            Harry was aware, even as he stood there, of the guilt creeping in. Wasn't it selfish to quit because he was treated poorly by some people? Not everyone did it. And wasn't it selfish to want more than the fame and renown he had gained for defeating Voldemort? He'd had a lot.

            But no, he had put up with this behavior for years, and it hadn't changed. If he couldn't make it change, he didn't owe it to anyone to stay and endure it. That satisfied no one except his guilt complex, really, since too many people in the Ministry thought that his endurance was a sign of him plotting something evil later.

            "I'm going," he said. "On that note. I don't want to be an Auror anymore, and I resign." He took the resignation letter out of his pocket and cast the enchantment on it that he had learned for multiple memos in the Ministry, which would cause it to seek out the Head Auror. It rose, flapping, and skimmed off.

            He next took out the shrunken package from his pocket that held his Auror robes, enlarged it, and dumped them all on the floor. He stirred them with his foot, looking mildly at Eliot and Calumney, who continued to stare at him. "Take them back," he said. "I think you'll find that's all the official robes that were ever issued to me. I'm not an Auror now."

            He turned around in time to catch the triumphant grin on Ron's face, and tip a little salute back. Yes, he had done it. He had come this far, and this time, it was going to stick. He would have to make a new life for himself.

            But with Draco at his side, that would be far easier than it would have been otherwise.

            Draco took his hand as he walked away from the Aurors, towards the fireplaces. He had no need to go out the front doors this time, or walk to an Apparition point like a private citizen. He was going home, and that was the end of it.

            "Potter!"

            Harry twitched, but didn't turn around. That wasn't his name anymore, and they had lost the ability to command or call him by it.

            Then arms were around him, and Ron and Hermione were hugging and congratulating him. Harry hugged them back, although part of him worried that Ron would take even more backlash, and maybe Hermione too, from demonstrating their loyalty to him in front of the Ministry.

            At least no one can harass Ron into making me come back, though. And he chose to do this.

            Draco waited patiently until Ron and Hermione chattered their way through felicitations, and then took Harry through the Floo. They came out in the sitting room where Harry had once received Zabini, and Ossy stood ready with drinks for the both of them.

            First, though, Draco pinned him against the stone of the fireplace, and gave him a long and extremely thorough congratulations of his own.

*

            delia cerrano: Harry will continue to worry about it, but he won't bring it up until Draco is ready to discuss it.

            SP777: Verbal butt-kicking.

            And thanks for the compliments. I think I've just been writing lower-rated stories lately.

            Diana: Sooner than usual, this time.

            CareLessLover: I don't think Harry would have been comfortable with that yet, and Draco might not have either.

            Rina: I do think Harry had someone to fight for in the past: his friends. But this kind of relationship with Draco is a new one in his life, and you're right that he and Draco's strength is really greater than the sum of its parts.
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The Name I'll Give to Thee