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The Serenity of His Rage	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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“The bond shared between you and Harry has already weakened the Horcrux. It might have awakened it as well, but a Horcrux cannot share the same place in you with love. You’ve changed it, driven it to the edges of your awareness.”
Draco tried to breathe as normally as he could. Either shallow or rapid breathing might give Dumbledore the undesirable impression that he was managing to influence Draco.
“But I thought you said the bond hadn’t worked the way you wanted it to. Hadn’t pulled Harry’s soul away from the Horcrux the way you thought it should.”
“I did think that,” said Dumbledore, and sighed a little. “I’ve done more research into the nature of soul-bonds since then, however, and based on what Severus has told me as well as my own observations, I believe there have been changes. Not ones I anticipated. But changes.”
Draco stiffened his shoulders. The problem with Dumbledore was that he could make things sound reasonable, but then he never gave enough specifics for Draco to decide if they actually were. “What changes?”
“It’s hard to define them precisely—”
“Try. Or I won’t convince Harry to go along with your plan.”
Dumbledore gave him a long, slow look. Draco sat there and didn’t back down. He was pleased to notice that what he’d said to Harry was true: he didn’t need to keep within boundaries and pretend to be impressed with Dumbledore the way Harry would have. Dumbledore already expected disrespect from a Slytherin, so he actually tolerated it better.
“I will ask you to be polite to me, Mr. Malfoy.”
“And I’ll ask you to be clearer.” Draco leaned forwards and slapped the edge of the desk with one hand when Dumbledore opened his mouth to make some other excuse. “Listen. You can come up with whatever excuses you want, but you’re the one who thinks that the Horcrux has to be destroyed in this particular way. I’m not a Gryffindor, to follow you blindly. Convince me.”
Dumbledore looked as though he’d swallowed his own beard for a long moment, but he finally nodded and reached into a drawer of his desk. Draco tensed despite the phoenix crooning reassuringly off to the side. At least Dumbledore only pulled a parchment out and not his wand or something else far worse.
“Look,” said Dumbledore, and unrolled the parchment. Draco blinked at the look of the ink on it, such a bright silver that it flared against his eyes. “The possible directions that a soul-bond can move a soul are highlighted here.” He ran his finger down the side of the circle in the middle of the page, along a line that looked bluer than the rest. “It would work the same way with a soul-piece—even better, in some respects, because a shard doesn’t have the same protections against being influenced by a bond that an entire soul does.”
Draco made a polite noise under his breath and leaned over to study the lines on the parchment. Once again, he wasn’t worried about not understanding them completely. Professor Snape could read them in Pensieve memories and tell him what they were all about. Or even Granger, assuming she had the relevant knowledge and experience.
He found, though, that at least one of the lines, the bright blue one, was familiar. He’d seen something like it in one of the innumerable books that Father had had him read between fourth and fifth year, when he thought Draco needed to focus more on magical theory and less on Quidditch. Draco had hated that summer, but at least it was paying its way now.
“This represents the way that a soul would usually move when joined in a marriage bond, right?” he asked, tracing the blue line with a finger.
Dumbledore jolted beside him. Draco kept his eyes down and resisted the temptation to smile. Even if it was just because he enjoyed being the one who explained everything, he didn’t think Dumbledore had expected him to know that.
“Yes,” said Dumbledore, after a cough and a long pause. “And that is what your soul-bond with Harry most resembles. A marriage bond, as I’m sure you know, doesn’t permit the people in it to marry someone else unless they dissolve it of their own free will first.”
“But Harry still has both the tie to the Horcrux and the soul-bond to me,” Draco mused. He knew they were on the verge of something, but he didn’t know what yet.
“Yes. Under ordinary circumstances, if there was a lingering, one-sided soul-bond, the tie to the Horcrux would have been forced out by the person willingly undergoing the new ritual, and your soul-bond would have taken its place. But a Horcrux is different.” Dumbledore sighed a little. “I hoped that might happen anyway. It did not.”
Draco nodded politely. “And how does this relate to the firewalk that you think is going to free Harry from the Horcrux?”
Dumbledore stroked his beard and stared pensively at Draco. Draco resisted the temptation to cross his eyes or laugh.
“Fire is the elemental power most used in rituals of purity,” Dumbledore began. “I think the firewalk—”
“Would purify Harry so the Horcrux wouldn’t be able to hold on to him anymore?” Draco frowned. “But then he should be the one doing it instead of me. And that wouldn’t help us identify Death Eater magical signatures.”
“What I was thinking,” said Dumbledore, at his softest and most grandfatherly, “is that it would serve to purify you. The purity would pass along the bond between you and Harry, and force the Horcrux out that way.”
“I have nothing to be purified from.”
Dumbledore watched him and waited as if he thought Draco would change his mind about that declaration, then shook his head a little. “I don’t think that’s true, my boy.”
Draco let his sneer work its way onto his face. Dumbledore was irritating him enough that he no longer really thought keeping the peace important. “Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it? Because if you think that and I don’t, then the ritual won’t work.”
Dumbledore grew a little paler in the instants before his jaw firmed. “I think this ritual is the best chance to help Harry, Mr. Malfoy. I think you probably believe so as well, or you would have argued more with me about it.”
“But I don’t think I have anything to be purified from,” Draco said softly. “Nothing to purge. I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t tortured them. I might have come close a few times, but I never succeeded. I played childish pranks, but so did the Weasley twins, and I don’t see you recommending a firewalk for them. And if you think that I need to be refined because I’m a Slytherin…you’re ridiculous. Professor Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore said nothing, but simply looked at him. It took Draco longer than it should have to realize that he was looking at Draco’s left arm.
Draco flushed and clasped the Dark Mark before he could stop himself. Then he said, “That would cause a problem, though, wouldn’t it? If I was purified of magic related to the Dark Lord, then there’s a high chance the ritual might sever the soul-bond instead, because the magic would be intent on removing me from any lingering remnants of the Dark Lord. Like the Horcrux inside Harry.”
“We can modify it so that that will not happen.”
“The problem is, Professor,” Draco said, standing up and making sure he had his hand near his wand and his face bowed a little so Dumbledore couldn’t look him directly in the eye, “I don’t trust you to modify the ritual.”
“You must,” said Dumbledore urgently, standing. His blackened hand caught Draco’s attention for a moment, and Draco was almost sure the curse had moved further up the man’s arm. Then he jerked his eyes away and moved towards the door. “I am the only one who understands all the theory!”
Draco held his tongue about Professor Snape. The longer Dumbledore could be fooled into thinking he was still on the side of sending Harry to his death, the better. “I’ll do some research of my own,” he said calmly, and opened the outer door of Dumbledore’s office. “I think I’ll have to, because there’s just no way that I can trust you enough.”
“If trusting me is the only chance you have to save Harry’s life, would you still resist?”
Draco closed his eyes and let his fingers tap on the door for a second, and tension work down his jaw. Then he said, “I don’t know that it is, and I can’t trust you when you say it is. So I’m going to go away, and ask some questions, and think about it.”
“Draco.” There was still power in Dumbledore’s voice, enough that Draco shivered when he spoke his name. “You need me. There is no one else who has the knowledge I have and who cares so much about Harry.”
Really? I think Professor Snape and Granger might come close.
But again, it would have been criminally stupid to say that aloud. Draco just nodded, said, “I’ll think about that, Professor, and work on it as hard as I can,” and opened the door to step out onto the moving staircase.
Dumbledore didn’t fire a curse at his back or try to hold him there. Draco became aware that he’d been waiting for that.
He relaxed only when the staircase had carried him down six turns from Dumbledore’s office and there was no sound—except the phoenix’s crooning, which Draco could hear even through the closed door. He sighed and refocused his mind.
He and Harry wouldn’t have much time to relax. Draco wanted to meet with Professor Snape and Harry’s friends as soon as possible. Even Weasley might have some insights to contribute, about Dumbledore if nothing else.
*
Severus stared a little blankly at Draco as he finished speaking. The five of them were once again gathered in his office, after Severus had Flooed Albus to tell him he was going to Diagon Alley and Granger and Weasley had asked permission to visit Weasley’s parents.
The longer Albus had no reason to look for them, the better. And he would hardly be surprised that Harry and Draco were avoiding him.
“Sir? Do you need me to repeat something?”
Severus put a hand over his eyes and shook his head. No, what Draco had said was a true and faithful recounting of his conversation with Albus. Lucius had trained Draco well in memorization, if only because he had thought Draco might take his place in the Wizengamot someday and have to be able to recite conversations quickly and accurately to his political allies. This had happened.
But what Albus had said was…
Against all magical theory. And not only for the reason Draco had identified, that burning away the Dark Mark might not have the effects on the Horcrux that Albus hoped it would.
“Sir? What’s the main reason that won’t work?”
Severus looked up. Miss Granger was leaning forwards, her hands resting on her knees. She gave Draco a frowning glance, but then focused on Severus again. “Can you tell me, Professor?”
“Fire is a purifying element, yes,” Severus said aloud, slowly, thinking of the best way to parse the tangle of his thoughts and lay them out in a clear, easily followable way. “But it is not—tamable. Not in the way Albus intends to tame it. It cannot be subordinated to other rituals. The rituals it is used in cannot be easily modified. With time, yes, I think Albus could work on this the way he did on the uses of dragon’s blood, and figure out insights that would elude lesser minds. But not in the amount of time he has had. I think he is acting out of desperation and fear, and that makes me warier than ever of relying on him.”
“Could he have been working on this a while? For something different, I mean, and this is just the first chance he’s really had to use it?”
“The soul-bond ritual was like that, Miss Granger,” Severus said, and focused on her for the moment. Harry and Weasley didn’t understand enough, and Draco stood with his arms folded and an expression that said he was clearly too intent on interrupting. “He had developed part of the theory behind its modification for a friend, and then he thought of ways it could be used for Draco and Mr. Pot—Harry. But he showed me his notes and calculations right away, and involved me in designing it when he knew he wanted to use it. We worked on it for hours. In this case, he has not done so.”
He paused, meaning to clear his throat and go on, but Granger took it from there. “So either he hasn’t been working on it for long at all, or he hasn’t started, or he doesn’t trust you enough anymore to involve you.”
“All of those are bad news,” Severus agreed quietly. “But the first one, perhaps the worst. There are reasons that those who modify rituals usually have partners. There are simply too many aspects to keep track of. Working under a deadline, with the conviction that he must do it alone, working with unstable aspects and with the distrust of Draco that he has in place…at best, he would create something that would not work.”
“At worst?” It was Harry who asked that, his shoulders a little bowed and his back the same, as if preparing to accept some weight.
“At worst, he would create a modification of the ritual that might well destroy Draco, or anyone else attempting it.”
Harry shivered and took a deep breath. “Maybe I should be the one to talk to him, after all,” he said, sitting up and trading glances with Draco that made Draco’s eyes narrow, hard. “If I can get him to see that he’s working too fast and he needs help—”
“How can you, without betraying that Professor Snape is working with us?” Draco demanded, in a voice as harsh as a crow’s. “It’s ridiculous, Harry. I knew I felt there was something off about this, but I could never lay out all the objections the way Professor Snape just did. You can’t go talk to Dumbledore.”
Harry sighed and messed up his hair in a way that reminded Severus more of Lily than James. “Fine. But we have to do something.”
“There is something we can do,” Severus said. “A masking ritual.”
Draco and Granger, as he had expected, jerked and stared at him with wide eyes, but Weasley was the one who spoke. “I don’t like the idea of anything that makes Hermione look like that,” he said. “What is it? Professor,” he added grudgingly, when Severus turned to him.
“It’s a ritual that works under the cover of another,” Severus said. The more he considered his new plan, the more he hated it. Draco and Harry had already been asked to put their safety too much at risk. But this was the only strategy that would allow them to use Albus’s wisdom and prowess without alerting him to their true plans and loyalties. “We would let whatever ritual Albus wants to use—the firewalk, perhaps—begin as he intends to use it. Then we would cast a spell that wrenches the rising power over to our control, and conduct the actual ritual. If done properly, all the movements, gestures, words, and symbols we use would look like the ones Albus expects.”
“It would work on Professor Dumbledore’s mind,” Granger added, and sighed a little shakily. “It’s very Dark, isn’t it, sir?”
“Not any Darker than the sort of thing he wanted to use on me,” Draco snapped, his arms folded, and his power churning around him in a way that made Severus certain the bond between him and Harry was active with—interesting thoughts. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
“We have not yet heard from the other person most intimately concerned in this,” Severus said, and turned to face Harry.
*
Harry’s stomach was twisting. At this point, he almost would have welcomed knowing that Dumbledore wanted to use the firewalk ritual to kill or purge Draco. Everything was—changing too fast for his liking. Too uncertain. The masking ritual would be Dark, it might not work, Dumbledore might have rushed into this and Draco might get hurt even if everything went the way they planned it…
He started when he felt a hand on his elbow and realized that Draco was studying him, his eyes and the bond alive with compassion. Harry gave him a weak smile in return and sat up a little straighter.
“How likely is the mask ritual to hurt Draco?” he asked Snape.
Snape’s eyes widened a bit, but he answered at once, “It will not. It cannot. Its only purpose is to work on Dumbledore’s mind, to fool him into seeing what we want him to see, and to drain the power raised by the firewalk in a designated direction.”
“But we’ve talked so much about the other rituals potentially going wrong. Why wouldn’t this one?”
“The others are—think of them as blades,” said Snape, after a moment’s thought. “This is a sheath and a sheath only. It can hold magic raised by other sorts of rituals, but it cannot, in and of itself, strike like them.”
“A sheath could still hurt if you thumped someone in the back of the head with it,” Harry muttered, and was surprised when Snape laughed. He hadn’t thought anyone but himself and Draco would hear that.
“You have a unique turn of mind, Harry,” said Snape, and Harry blinked through the strangeness of being called by his first name, again, by someone who had hated him most of his life. “To continue the unique metaphor, rest assured that this sheath will never get out of our control. We need only set the masking ritual up properly, and it will do everything that we want it to do.”
“That sounds too simple. How can we set it up properly when we don’t know what Dumbledore’s going to do and he probably won’t share it with us?”
“That’s the great thing about a masking ritual,” Draco interrupted, before Snape could say anything. He knelt down in front of Harry and took his hands. The bond between them flowered with blue and gold. “It’s made of intent and power—and half the power gets stolen from the other ritual it’s being used with. All we have to do is go in there with a certain clearly defined set of intentions, and that in and of itself will guide our hands and our words.”
“This sounds so simple, though,” said Hermione, and Harry shot her a grateful smile. He’d been about to say the same thing. “If it is, why isn’t everyone using masking rituals all the time?”
“And won’t Dumbledore think we might use one?” added Ron. He still looked a little uneasy at rebelling against Dumbledore. Harry reached out to squeeze his hand. Ron smiled faintly at him and sagged against his chair.
“It’s illegal,” said Professor Snape with a shrug. He looked more interested and calmer than Harry ever saw him during Potions class. Maybe it had something to do with not being afraid that a horrible accident would happen every second. “It takes a great deal of power, as well. Most of the same reasons that people do not usually use the Unforgivables, despite the incantations being common knowledge.”
“But if we were there all together…” said Hermione, and her eyes were bright. Harry smiled at her, and saw the way she looked at him and Ron, the same gleam in her face that had been there when they first started looking for information on Nicholas Flamel. “If we convinced Professor Dumbledore that we really wanted to help the ritual, for the same reasons that Ron and I wanted to be bonded to Harry…”
“That you thought that was a good idea,” Ron muttered.
Before they could start bickering about that, Harry interrupted firmly. “Yes, you’ll have to convince him that you want to help, and you have a reason to be there.” He turned and looked at Professor Snape. “Is he going to let you be there if he doesn’t trust you, sir?”
Snape gave a slow smile that Harry was glad he’d never seen in class. “There are certain precautions that I think not even Albus would wish to neglect, such as protective spells around the outside of whatever chamber he chooses to make sure no one interferes. If I volunteer to set them, I think he will let me participate.”
“Good,” said Harry briskly, and turned and looked at Draco. “And he can’t split me apart from you.”
Draco met his gaze, and smiled. The bond was everything between them in that moment, rippling with running, cool colors of green and white. “He knows better than that. He knows that he won’t get away with anything if we’re apart.”
Harry reached out and let Draco draw him to his feet. He stood with his hands in Draco’s and felt the warmth fluttering between them. Harry honestly couldn’t tell how much of it was the bond and how much simply their shared heartbeats.
He leaned in and kissed Draco, not caring about Ron clearing his throat or Professor Snape averting his eyes with a frown. This was what he wanted to do at the moment, and no one was going to take it away from him.
Draco’s hand was cupping and gentle on the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in until Harry swayed and gasped, drunk on the lack of air. Then he moved calmly backwards and looked at Professor Snape again.
“Well?”
“Yes,” Snape said, and inclined his head while still looking at the floor, as if he didn’t want to look up and catch some glimpse of the kiss that might be lingering. “You might as well go to him, and tell him that we want to begin.”
At the last moment, he did look up, and the desperate concern in his eyes as they rested on Draco made Harry feel calmer.
That’s something we have in common, at least.
Draco glanced at him, and the softly winged fluttering in Harry’s chest calmed.
And strength is something we have in common. We can do this.
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The Serenity of His Rage