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Here But For the Grace of Merlin	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. We make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Chapter List
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Warnings: Angst, OOC, DH spoilers (minus Epilogue), language, violence, self-harm, drinking, slash, smut, non-con, BDSM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros and some other stupid companies. I make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Author’s Notes: This fic has really started to get stuck in my head. I feel like I might actually be a real HP fanfic writer. Shocking, I’m aware, but the muses are happy and I don’t die. That’s how it should be. Review if you have the time. It keeps the muses working.

Chapter Three – Unwelcome Visitors

The house was quiet, even the house-elves gone to bed. Draco stared up at the canopy of his king-sized bed and sighed. Sleep had been avoiding him for hours yet, his mind turning over the news of Potter’s ‘accident’ and the obvious rupture of the Golden Trio of Hogwarts. As much as he had wished for their friendship to have completely disintegrated during their time at school, now that it had after the war was not that satisfying. ‘Probably because I can’t see their miserable faces as they suffer,’ he thought, but he knew that wasn’t what was bothering him exactly and he couldn’t place his finger on what really was. Deciding to take a Dreamless Sleep potion, he got out of his bed and walked to his en-suite.

Just as his bare feet hit the plush carpeting, he heard what sounded like a crash come from somewhere on the first floor of the Manor. Cursing under his breath, Draco snatched up his wand – the one that Potter had so graciously returned through Minister Shacklebolt after his horrid trial – and silently padded through the darkened halls to find who the intruder was.

It was only when he heard frighteningly familiar voices that he remembered the utter folly of what had happened since Voldemort’s defeat. While the Ministry had instantly re-warded the Manor against all but the Auror corps and Malfoy family, the dungeons had separate wards. And Lucius had never reset them, or showed Draco how to do so himself! He swore that if he lived after this evening, he was going to re-ward the whole damn property around the Manor against everyone but his parents and himself. Fuck the Aurors and the Minister…

“Sod all, Travers, could you be any more useless?” That sounded oddly like his… Uncle Rodolphus.

“Roddy, might want to keep it down, yes? I’m sure Lucius and Cissa are sleeping like babes, but who knows what ickle Drakie is doing,” his brother, Rabastan, sneered. Draco’s blood froze in his veins. Out of all the loose Death Eaters roaming the countryside, the Lestrange brothers, Travers - and probably MacNair and Avery too - was the worst possible situation – aside from Voldemort himself, his brain added sarcastically.

Draco was well aware that he was truly, utterly and royally fucked, unless his parents woke up. He could take out Travers, MacNair and Avery by himself, but his uncles… Only his father, in his prime, could deal with those two. Although, if what the Healer said about the Death Eaters being adversely affected by the Dark magic backlash at the final battle was correct, none of the men downstairs were at their absolute best. That thought was the one ray of sunshine in the whole dark, fucking pit he found himself suddenly in.

“Rabastan, I feel rather out of sorts,” Rodolphus said, his voice sounding a little too airy for Draco’s tastes.

“That’s wonderful, Roddy, but what would Bella do at a time like this?”

“Why, she’s go after her traitor sister and her horridly pathetic husband first, and then cast the Cruciatus on darling Draco until he went insane.”

“That wasn’t the plan, Lestrange!” Ah, yes, Avery was there.

“We’re only after some of Lucius’ money to get the hell out of Britain,” MacNair snarled. They were too predictable, running around in the same packs, but it was something that the older men never caught onto when Draco tried to explain it to them in his seventh year at Hogwarts. “Although, from the news I heard, Draco holds the purse strings now.”

“MacNair, Travers and Avery, go find the beautiful Narcissa and her worthless husband,” Rabastan barked. “Rodolphus and I will find young Lord Malfoy.” Draco held back on swearing, but promising himself that if he and his parents made it out of this situation, then he’d brew enough Felix Felicis to last several generations of Malfoys.

The two Lestrange brothers’ footsteps made for the direction of Draco’s room, where the blond returned and quietly shut the door behind him, casting Locking and Silencing charms quickly. There, safe, for the moment, Draco let loose a string of swearing that would have scandalized his mother. Frantically, he looked around for anything that he could use as a weapon, aside from his tightly clutched wand. Then, he remembered those stupidly intrusive wards that Shacklebolt had demanded he add to the Manor’s already impressive defenses. They were supposed to alert the Ministry and Auror corps if tripped.

Praying for once that the Ministry could be trusted, Draco shot a Blasting Curse at one of the windows of his room, watching in morbid fascination as the magic was swallowed by the Manor’s wards and shrinking as a wail that reminded him of a cat that had its tail stepped on rang throughout the Manor. Then, gathering what courage he could muster, he removed the Locking and Silencing charms from his door and waited.

“Dammit,” Rodolphus yelled. “Those idiots must have tripped something. Rabastan, we need to hurry!”

“I don’t think so, Uncle,” Draco said calmly before shooting off a stream of Stunners and Binding Spells, watching as they ineffectually bounced off of the shields his uncles had put up. He didn’t stop casting, hoping that somehow a spell would get passed them in their panic.

Of course, they weren’t sitting back and letting him do that. Oh, no, they were shooting Cruciatuses and Stunners and a very sick looking yellow-brown smoke which smelled heavily of garlic that Draco had never seen used before, only read about in some of his father’s more questionable tomes – the ones the Ministry had gladly confiscated before allowing them to return to the Manor. Not trusting himself enough to shield against that particular curse, Draco threw himself to the floor and then cast a nonverbal Ventus spell.

The smoke cloud was blown back in the Lestrange brothers’ faces, and they began coughing harshly. Their spell casting was obviously affected as the coughing literally had them on hands and knees. Rodolphus’ face was turning a very interesting shade of puce, while Rabastan looked as if he was about to turn in to one of the Merfolk that lived at the bottom of the lake at Hogwarts.

As Draco watched his uncles’ difficulty breathing, he silently vowed that he was going to really research that curse. If the looks on their faces said anything to him, it was definitely a good thing that he managed to avoid breathing it in. Also, he made a mental note to have the house-elves to do an extremely thorough cleaning of his wing. There was no way he was going to let something that potentially dangerous leave any traces that might damage him.

While Rodolphus and Rabastan continued to cough and change colors, Draco quickly cast two rapid Incarcerous spells and Apparated to his parents’ wing of the house. What he found when he arrived was chaos.

Lucius, who still remembered everything from the time he joined Voldemort’s services the first time to the present time, was casting rapid fire curses and hexes that were taking chunks out of the walls and leaving black stains that made Draco wonder abstractedly if they’d ever come out. Narcissa, who looked like some goddess of vengeance, was locked in a one-on-one battle with MacNair. The bulky man was in filthy, dark robes that had slices from various curses and probably from the shards of glass from the shattered window behind his mother.

Travers was the closest, and his wand work was sloppy, taking too much time between spellcasting and saying some incantations incorrectly. How he’d ever made any sort of impact as a Death Eater was beyond Draco, but that didn’t make the man any less dangerous. Luckily, he was too preoccupied in trying to cast a Severing Curse at Lucius to notice that he had company. Draco held out two fingers to his father before shooting a Full Body-Bind at the distracted man.

Lucius took the assistance with a snarl, casting a minor Cutting curse at Avery, knocking the man’s wand from his hand and slicing the fingers that had been wrapped around it. He dropped to his knees. “Please, Lucius, we were once old friends,” he begged pathetically. “I didn’t even want to come here. Lestrange and his brother made me. Please.” The elder Malfoy curled his upper lip in disgust before casting a Stunner at his former comrade. Draco helped by binding him as well, turning to see his mother cast a sleep spell that MacNair failed to completely block.

The hairy, burly man fell face forward onto the carpet at Narcissa’s feet, and she spared a look of utter revulsion before binding him as well. “Where are the Lestranges?” she asked in an emotionless voice as she stepped around MacNair to check her husband over for any marks.

“Somewhere in my wing of the house, bound and dealing with some curse they tried to cast at me,” Draco answered, relief making his heart rate return to something like normal. Aside from a few cuts and abrasions, both of his parents seemed to be fine.

“What curse?” Lucius inquired, pushing Narcissa’s fussing hands away from a bleeding gash on his arm without thought.

“I don’t know its name,” Draco said. “But it was a horrid yellowish-brown colored gas that reminded me of garlic.”

“That curse!” The elder Malfoy was then trying to race through the doorway like a demon from hell.

Draco blinked in confusion and turned to his mother. “Do you know what curse it is, Mother?”

“If I remember correctly,” Narcissa said in a cool tone that said she remembered just fine, “that curse is based off of a rather vicious Muggle weapon of war. I believe it is called Mustard Gas…” Her blue eyes shone like hard gems briefly. “Did you breathe it in or let it touch your skin?”

“No, I didn’t remember what it was, and wasn’t going to take any chances. I blew it back in their faces, and while they were coughing up their lungs, I incapacitated them before Apparating here.”

“Good.” She gave a hard smile. “The Healers at St. Mungo’s shall have fun dealing with the boils and such that comes from that particular curse. Your uncles will be lucky if they only have to deal with minor injuries to their lungs and esophagus.” Her face grew stony once again. “And did you set off the wards that alert the useless Ministry to our situation?”

“Yes, Mother, I thought it was prudent to alert them as soon as possible.”

A soft ‘pop’ beside them made them turn to face the house elf that appeared at that moment. “Excuse me, Mistress ‘Cissa, there is men at the door in red robes asking for you and Master Draco.”

“Good, Dibby, show them into the drawing room and Draco and I will be there shortly.”

“Yes, Mistress, Dibby will do that right away.”

“They will examine our wands, I’m sure. The Aurors are just waiting for us to use Dark Arts while Lucius is on house arrest so that they can imprison us all in Azkaban. What spells did you use, my son?”

“Silencing and Locking charms, the Clean Wind spell, a Blasting curse for the wards, the Full-Body Bind, and Stunners – nothing that would have any of us arrested.”

“Good,” she said with an approving nod. “It is only Lucius we will have to worry about then.” She shook her head before heading to her closet for a robe. “Go find Father, and I will meet you downstairs.”

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

“And just where did Mr. Malfoy acquire this wand?” one of the Aurors, a Gillyroot, asked. “I remember Harry Potter saying that his was destroyed at the trial.”

“That wand belonged to my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy,” Draco answered coolly. “As the Wizengamot did not prevent him from having a wand, but only put him on indefinite house arrest because of his condition, I don’t think it a problem that he has it.”

“Look here, boy,” the other Auror, Beetstring, snapped. “You’d best watch your mouth around me.”

“As my parents and I have done your job, and you are in my home, you will remember who you are talking to,” Draco shot back, feeling heat creep up his neck. The cold hand of his mother touched his arm, reeling him in and keeping him from hexing the incompetent arsehole in front of them. “Do not think that I will hesitant to speak to the Minister about your appalling lack of manners,” he said, managing to sound nonchalantly.

“Have you received any pertinent information from any of the five men that we caught for you?” Narcissa asked.

“Now, Mrs. Malfoy, there’s no reason to-” the first Auror began, but the look of pure contempt on Narcissa’s face seemed to freeze him to the bone.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Aurors Gillyroot and Beetstring. My family and I were tried fairly by the Wizengamot back in June of last year. That means we are nearly eight months past being found innocent. And yet, you’ve come into our home, where we have called you for assistance with wanted criminals that you have not been able to apprehend yourselves, and insulted us from the first. We have done nothing wrong. We have been perfect examples of private citizens that have wished to remain so. So, please explain to me how you can walk through the door of where I live and insult me to my face?

“Every spell that we used this evening in our own defense is a legal, non-Dark Arts spell. Even the Cutting charm that Lucius used against Avery was one that is normally used to trim hair, so your behaviour is completely unwarranted and unprofessional. As my son as said, we will be speaking to your superiors about your atrocious performance.”

Both men had flushed an ugly shade of red by the time that Narcissa had finished, and Draco felt like beaming with pride at the way his mother had cowed these useless men, but a brief flash from the direction that Lucius had been sitting drew his immediate attention. His father was swaying, as if drunk, and cradling his left arm to his side. “Father, are you alright?”

“Draco, there is something wrong,” Lucius whispered before passing out.

TBC

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Here But For the Grace of Merlin