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An Image of Lethe	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21751 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty—A Single Chance
            Harry was glad that he was alone when Hermione’s Patronus swam abruptly through the wall and reared up in front of him, sparkling silver. But he still found himself freezing sort of the way he would if he wasn’t alone and had to explain the presence of a ghostly otter to a bunch of Death Eaters.
            The otter sat up on its hindquarters, groomed its whiskers for a second, and looked Harry in the eye. “The Ministry has decided to blame the Death Eaters for the explosion of the Lightfinder. They’re hunting them seriously.”
            Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He supposed he should have expected that, if only because it was the worst possible thing for the Ministry to decide, and the Ministry was always deciding the worst possible thing for Harry.
But he shook off the pessimism and leaned back in his chair, curling his fingers around the arms. The books on the table next to him seemed to tremble in the wake of his sigh, or maybe that was the wake of the Patronus disappearing, which it had done by the time he opened his eyes.
Harry took the time to draw his wand and conjure his own stag, though it took a moment for him to get the spell right when he didn’t dare shout the incantation. The stag that bounded out turned to look at him curiously for a second until he said, “Go to Hermione,” and added, “Message received. Thank you, Hermione. I’ll do what I can.”
The stag blurred with its speed as it left, and Harry turned and eyed the pile of books again. They were both the ordinary books that Astoria and Parkinson had found, and the tomes that he had retrieved from Slytherin’s vault.
            He thought he knew what he had to do, and what would solve the various problems: taking care of the Death Eaters, curing the madness inflicted on the wizarding world by the Lightfinder, and solving Draco’s problem with his father. But he only thought he knew what to do. Harry would have appreciated it a lot if he had been able to take some more time and figure it out in finer detail.
            But he didn’t have that time. He reached for the first book and began preparing himself, mentally and emotionally, for the Death Eater meeting he would have to hold tomorrow.
*
            Draco kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked into the dining room the next day. His mother walked behind him, and every time she met his gaze, Draco thought she would see the lie he had fed her.
            He had said that the reverse Lightfinder Harry was researching would give them the ability to cure Lucius. Draco barely remembered the lies he had spun now, what he had said about madness and notes and intentions and Light and Dark magic. He had only known that his mother needed the reassurance and he needed the breathing space, the time that he would have before his mother would start to pressure him into leaving the Death Eaters, and leaving his father behind.
            Of course, he would have to tell Harry about the lie and find out whether he had some way to make it come true.
            He looked up and caught Harry’s eye as they took their place in the assembled crowd. Harry nodded distantly to him and then looked out over the heads of the Death Eaters again. Draco bristled and swallowed and tried not to show how hard his heart was thumping. That would only make it worse, if he betrayed fear now.
            Greyback was the next to catch his eye, from where he crouched near the foot of Harry’s throne. He winked, the exact same way Draco had thought he would. Draco thought he managed a compromise between a sickly smile and the knowing one Greyback would expect.
            No matter how Draco looked, though, he couldn’t see his father. He hesitated, wondering what Lucius was doing. If he had been less prominent among the Death Eaters and had fewer eyes fixed on him, he would have tried slipping away from the back of the meeting to find out.
            “My faithful followers!”
            Draco jumped. Harry had added something to his voice, a hissing, clacking, sliding undertone that had never been there before, and which Draco didn’t know how he’d produced. He found himself staring along with the rest as Harry rose to his feet and waved his wand. Out from behind the throne floated what looked at first like a few small pieces of wood stuck in a piece of ice.
            Then Harry enlarged it, and Draco stopped breathing as he realized he was looking at a working model of the reverse Lightfinder.
            That was what it had to be. Harry wouldn’t have wasted his time building anything else. Draco could see the gleams, here and there, of the exotic gems and wood that some of the Death Eaters had been detailed to get, and smoking and bubbling in a small pit in the enchanted ice was a Pepper-Up potion, the one his father had brewed. Harry stepped slowly behind the floating model and smiled into their silence.
            “To prove to you that I hold no resentment for your actions in the past, and am as willing to take risks as anyone else in the pursuit of our goals…” he said, and flicked his wand in a different motion, one that made the following word come as less of a surprise to Draco. “Serpensortia!”
            The cobra conjured by the spell reared up in front of Harry like a ribbon of darkness and turned its head to regard the Death Eaters. Draco couldn’t understand the hiss that rolled off its tongue, but he could translate an approximation, and he flinched as the snake unrolled a centimeter or two forwards.
            Harry hissed something. Draco watched the Death Eaters sway in rapt contemplation, and Greyback whine and roll on his back, and understood why Harry was putting on this show, when it might seem tangential to his purposes with the reverse Lightfinder. It would remind them that he was a Parselmouth and had magic they had only ever attributed to Voldemort.
            And it might reassure a few of the slipping faithful that he still has Voldemort’s soul inside him.
            The cobra wreathed itself around the reverse Lightfinder, smothering a great deal of the wood and gems under its bulk. It kept away from the ice and the potion, Draco noticed, but then he wasn’t surprised by that. What mattered was that Harry, in a few minutes, had a model essentially covered with snakeskin. The cobra dropped its head down and became docile, like Draco’s conjured snake had in second year after Harry ordered it to stop attacking.
            “To show you,” said Harry, still with that clacking undertone to his voice. Draco found it hard to read his expression. He knew this was only an act, but it was still hard to put that same face on the one from his memory, flushed with passion and yearning for him. “What it means to be a Dark Lord, what it means to command magic that no one else does.” He closed his hand into a fist, and the reverse Lightfinder burst into flame.
            Draco cried out, and Greyback cowered back as though someone had flung the fireball at his nose. Well, it was almost at his nose, spitting and tossing sparks, Draco had to concede. Harry had lit the machine rather suddenly on fire right in front of his throne, and Greyback was close by default.
            Draco thought if he had the time to slow down and consider the fire carefully, it would be a less impressive effect than it seemed, but Harry wasn’t giving anyone the time to do that considering. He was tracing his wand in circles and—appropriately—serpentine patterns, and the cobra caught fire.
            It didn’t move, though, remaining still even as the blue light and the red and the grey and the silver crawled up through the joins between its scales. Draco winced. He didn’t want to watch an animal burn to death in front of him, even a conjured and poisonous one.
            But Harry waved his wand again, and there was another bright surge of fire and light, and the flames that had begun to dance around the cobra coalesced into one significant snap and burned out. When Draco could see again, his mouth fell open.
            Where the cobra had been, awkwardly draped around the Lightfinder and unwinding itself from that frame with a click of hooves on the ice, was a unicorn foal. It stared and blinked from face to face, stubby horn lifting and bobbing as it apparently looked for grass, or maybe mother’s milk. The coat was slick gold.
            “What did I tell you?” Harry’s voice rose to a triumphant shout. “A machine that can change Dark into Light and Light into Dark, the dreaded symbol of one into the revered symbol of the other! Making a Light wizard into a Dark one is possible now!” He turned to face the densest cluster of the Death Eaters, the one that included Arsinoe Rosier and the Lestrange brothers, his fists upraised. “We have won this war! Any Light wizard that we capture will turn into a Dark one and join our side on command! The Ministry have left them no choice, not with the hunting of Dark wizards that they have proclaimed!”
            He might have said more, but it was lost in the cheering. Draco shook his head, dazed, and couldn’t help glancing at his mother from the corner of his eye.
            Narcissa was standing rigid, eyes flickering back and forth between the unicorn foal and Harry’s face. Then her expression set again. Draco found it hard to tell what she was feeling, as he often had during inconvenient moments of his life.
            “I will rule!” Harry’s voice finally rose loud enough to be heard over the uproar, or maybe he had used another spell to strengthen it. “And my most faithful followers will rule with me!”
            This time, the shouting was cut with applause, and a few speculative glances. Draco, because he knew the way Death Eater politics worked, was sure that some of them were already drawing lines between “faithful” and “not faithful enough” and becoming sure of where they stood—and who they needed to eliminate.
            “I will exhibit my invention on a human in a week’s time,” said Harry, and gave a dark smile at some of the Death Eaters. “And perhaps you will remember, you who questioned my power or thought I could not have it because I am trapped in his body, what I may ask of you to prove your loyalty.”
            Draco blinked. He had to admit he had no idea what Harry had planned, and that worried him. Still, he needed to get to Harry and warn him about his lie concerning Lucius before his mother could demand a demonstration. He wondered what excuse would work for that, or if he would simply have to wait and try to find him alone later.
            It turned out he didn’t need to. Harry turned back, and Draco found himself pinned in the grasp of eyes that were glamoured—he was almost sure they were glamoured—red. Harry reached out and snapped long white fingers at him.
            “I will need other faithful servants to speak to about the machine and the components that power it. Come with me, Malfoy.”
            And off he swirled, his long cloak snapping behind him and pulling Draco in its wake, while Draco heard the excited murmurs of the other Death Eaters rising. It seemed most of them were trying to figure out where Draco stood, if being invited with Harry meant he was faithful or not.
            Not Harry. The Dark Lord.
            It would be fatal if Draco forgot how most of the Death Eaters saw Harry. Or if he couldn’t tell him soon enough what his lie to his mother had entailed.
            Draco tilted his chin at an angle they were free to take as cocky, or stubborn and knowing, and followed Harry.
*
            It had worked. It had worked.
            Harry leaned back against the wall, shaking, in the moments before Draco and the floating reverse Lightfinder followed him into his rooms. He deserved at least this long to tremble and imagine what would have happened if something had gone wrong.
            And revel in the fact that it hadn’t.
            He glanced at the reverse Lightfinder and flicked his wand. The unicorn foal dissolved at once into warm, floating mist. Draco, coming through the door, froze with his hands lifted before him and his eyes blinking, as if he thought it was a special spell that Harry might use on him next.
            Harry smiled at him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you failed to recognize an illusion when you saw one.”
            “An—illusion,” Draco said flatly, and stared at the place where the unicorn foal had stood. Harry gently placed the floating prototype on the floor, and Draco’s stare followed it down before it snapped back to Harry’s face. “But—it couldn’t have been. We all saw it. We all heard it. Greyback would have smelled it if it was an illusion. And that Serpensortia snake was real enough.”
            Harry raised his eyebrows and hissed, “Will you come out now?” The cobra flowed from behind the façade of the reverse Lightfinder and curled up at his feet. Harry reached down and picked it up, enjoying, despite himself, the way Draco’s eyes widened as he draped the cobra across his own shoulders like an affectionate pet.
            Draco shook his head as though trying to get water out of his ears. “How did you do that?”
            “Decided what would be most effective for the Death Eaters to see, in terms of a Dark creature transformed into a Light creature,” Harry said, and shrugged. “Or creatures that most people think of as Dark and Light, anyway. Found a spell that would add a convincing smell to an illusion. Practiced the spells until I thought my hand would fall off. Added a few of the components to the reverse Lightfinder. Added another illusion spell that would provide that flash of smoke and light and conceal the snake at the same time.” He grinned and touched the back of the cobra’s neck, behind the hood, having to admit he enjoyed the stupefied look on Draco’s face. “It’s not good enough to last, but it fooled them for right now.”
            Draco nodded, his eyes already going shadowed. “It’ll last for right now, but what about later?”
            Harry snorted and put the cobra on the floor, where it slithered away into a corner. “I told you that I had a fortnight. Just because I come up with stopgap measures doesn’t mean I’m not working on the real solution.”
            Draco’s fingers clenched into his palms for a minute. “Then you can tell me what they are?”
            “They all depend on the reverse Lightfinder,” Harry said, and Summoned the book that held his notes. They were warded with an enchantment that made Draco flinch as the book came to him, and Harry quickly waved his wand and dissipated it with a muttered apology. “It’s an Aversion Charm, just in case. But I don’t think most people will be prying into the private books of the Dark Lord Voldemort anyway.”
            Draco’s head bobbed at the name, and he gave a quick, dry swallow, but he didn’t show any other reaction. “As long as they think you’re the Dark Lord.”
            “Right.” Harry waved his wand and dissipated the spell that hid the exact nature of his notes. Draco bent towards him when Harry beckoned, and Harry was hit with an unexpectedly stunning desire to bite into Draco’s neck, which was right in front of him and not being exploited at the moment in any way.
            Harry half-lowered his eyelids, controlled his desire, and said again, “Right. The Lightfinder works, or was meant to work, with the powerful will and intention of a single wizard. I’m strong enough to do that. It’ll take a few more enchantments that are a bit tricky, and I really do need some of the ingredients that I’m sending the Death Eaters out for. But I think I can make it.”
            Draco gave him a weirdly outraged look. “Then the ingredients you wanted us to get weren’t real?”
            “Some of them were, some of them weren’t.” Harry shook his head at Draco’s glare. “I wanted to make sure no one could tell exactly what I was building, in case some of them have read up on experiments like this before, and it would seem exciting and mystical to them. And don’t put yourself in the group of Death Eaters. You’re not one of them.”
            Draco shifted a little closer to him. “Who does know all the right ingredients, besides you?”
            Harry leaned a hand against Draco’s shoulder and tried to determine whether the look in Draco’s eyes was real or he was just reading his own desire into things. “Probably Astoria, since she did most of the original research, although I’m not sure that she ever sat down and wrote out the whole list. Why?”
            Draco sucked in a soft breath and grazed his finger over Harry’s lips. “And most of the Death Eaters think you’re moving in on my territory when you spend that much time with Astoria, because they think we’re still betrothed,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. “I’m not sure which of you I should be jealous of, though.”
            Harry’s head was spinning, and he had to put the book down on the nearest table as Draco leaned more and more heavily on him. He groaned as Draco ran a hand down his chest.
            “You’re not sure who you should be jealous of,” he whispered. “And I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
            Draco hesitated, then whispered, “A kiss. Please? I’ve been thinking about it, and thinking about all the other things we need to regret and keep track of and hold onto, and—and I told my mother you could help my father, and now I’m sure that’s not true and she’s going to be so angry, and just, please, Harry.”
            Harry opened his mouth to say that he did think he could help Lucius, as long as he got the reverse Lightfinder built right and on time, but Draco evidently took an open mouth as an invitation to introduce his tongue. Harry gasped as he staggered backwards and bumped into the wall, then moaned as Draco bit down and surged into him and began to rub at the same time.
            Just a kiss, right, Harry thought dazedly, before he wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders and started giving back.
            Draco rubbed against him hard enough to send Harry into a spiraling, soaring mass of sensation, and there was a moment, two moments, surely no longer than three, when Draco’s hands were not only everywhere but also his tongue, his hips, his cock. Harry gasped back and lifted one leg to wrap around Draco’s waist, and Draco knocked the book over, and Harry sincerely hoped the smashing sound a second later wasn’t an inkwell and it wasn’t getting on the book.
            But it didn’t matter if it was, not with the warmth washing over him, and the way they had slipped down and one of Harry’s feet was twisted uncomfortably beneath him, not to mention his arm twisted over to the side. He kissed with his neck bending, and Draco shuddered against him and his tongue went still in Harry’s mouth in a way that Harry had already learned to recognize. He hadn’t known he could come to recognize it so quickly.
            His mind blurred and burnt with pleasure, and Harry reached out one hand and caught Draco’s arm so he didn’t simply slide to the ground. Draco clucked and purred over to the side, a sound of satisfaction, before he caught Harry’s arm and pulled him neatly back upright.
            “I needed that,” Draco muttered, his face shining.
            Harry nodded. He didn’t know if he could say they both had, even if he suspected it was true, but Draco didn’t have to hear him say it. He blinked at Draco, and Draco smiled and let him go once he was back upright.
            “Your reverse Lightfinder can do almost anything, then?” Draco asked casually, as if they hadn’t just been having a deeper kind of connection than words could give.
            Harry swallowed, breathed, and managed to answer, “Sort of. I’m working on making it a way to cure your father of his insanity, but I can’t say that I’ve arrived at that yet.”
            Draco stared at him. Then he dropped back almost on his arse—only the wall being in the way saved him from that—and began laughing.
            Harry blinked. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d thought Draco would have to that particular announcement. He opened his mouth, about to ask if something was wrong, and Draco didn’t really want his father cured of his insanity after all, but instead, Draco stood up and caught his hands, smiling into his eyes.
            “That’s perfect,” he said. “You see, I told my mother a lie that you would manage to cure Father with your machine.”
            Harry blinked again, very slowly, feeling that he had to be missing something here. “Why would you tell your mother something that wasn’t true—well, that you didn’t know could come true?”
            “Because I was desperate, and she’d given up on rescuing Father, and I wanted to show her it was still possible.” Draco shook his head. “Thank you for making my lie come true.” He leaned in and gave Harry a dreamy glance. “But my father has promised himself—his whole self, his own being—to a potent elemental force. The force of, um, well, its Latin name is something to do with burning.” He pressed his fingers over Harry’s lips, and Harry realized he had been about to say the name, more or less thoughtlessly. “Can your will overcome that?”
            Harry breathed out slowly. He thought about his own stress, and how Hermione had once told him that stress could weaken magic. He thought about how strong an elemental force of magic must be, and all the things he had to do to get the reverse Lightfinder really ready, and how he had to worry about the Death Eaters finding them out in that time.
            And then he thought about how he had defeated Voldemort despite all the forces against him, and he nodded.
            “I can do it.”
            Draco leaned in and gave him the gentlest kiss they’d yet shared. Harry touched Draco’s back and sighed into his mouth.
            And he realized something.

            I’d want to do it for him, even if there was no other reason to.
*
Ciara_D: Thank you!
moon: Thank you.
Severus1snape: Thanks very much! And thank you, too, for the reviews you’ve left on my older stories.
moodysavage: It was pure desperation. Luckily, it worked out for him.
SP777: Maybe if you have a Harry Potter pretending to be Lord Voldemort in love with you, they do.
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An Image of Lethe