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Parsimony	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14122 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter Thirty-Three—Down to Will

            Things happened very fast.

            Harry tried to turn towards Draco, ready to knock him to the floor and stand guard over him. But that left the wolfwere unshielded, and Narcissa-Lucius reached through the bars so rapidly that he had no time to put even that minor plan into action before her fingers locked around his arm. She held him still, and Parkinson turned towards him, raised that harp he’d already seen her with in the Forest of Dean, and hurled it straight at him.

            The harp struck Harry, and a strange vibration seemed to ring all through his bones. He felt the grip that Narcissa had on his arm as burning, and then as ice. He panted, he shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, the corridor was wavering up and down and he had dropped to one knee without quite remembering how he got there. He knew that his bones were trembling on the edge of liquefying, though.

            Lucius stepped towards him, and his face was twisted in that kind of superior smile that Harry had become very familiar with from his visions of Voldemort. It didn’t look any more attractive with grey eyes and those proud Malfoy features. And he was far less handsome than his son, Harry thought, with the kind of rambling, wandering thoughts that seemed to have become the norm since the harp struck him.

            “Hold him still,” Lucius whispered, his voice as tender as though he spoke to someone dying in a hospital bed. “Then I can touch him with this.” He held out a blade that narrowed to a point so thin Harry thought it was a needle at first. “And that is the end of our problems.”

            The wolfwere had gone somewhere. Harry couldn’t see through the Disillusionment Charm, not with his eyes and his brain spinning the way they were. Parkinson hung behind Lucius, panting with excitement and not about to interfere.

            And they had discounted Draco as of no importance at all.

            That was a mistake, Harry thought, as Draco’s voice cut through the din in the corridor, as thin and sharp as the blade that Lucius was going to use.

            “That’s enough, Father.”

            Harry felt the grip on his arm shake as the Lucius in the cell looked at Draco, too, given that name. But he—she—whatever he was supposed to call them—had also reacted when Draco said that he knew a spell to separate Lucius and Narcissa. There must be some sort of consciousness left in them, Harry imagined, something that recognized the danger that Draco might present if he really did know such a spell.

            That didn’t give Harry much sympathy for them, or any. But it did leave him some hope. If they could part them, then Draco might have a chance at his family left.

            And strange how that was all he could think about now, when the threat to his life was plain and clear.

            “Draco,” Lucius, the one in front of Harry, said. He sounded faintly puzzled, the way Harry thought he might have if a wall had started talking. “Stand back. We can speak later, and I can explain what happened.”

            “I know what happened.” Draco moved into the corner of Harry’s vision. His hand was held out in front of him, light and straight, his fingers laid along the shaft of his wand as though it was an arrow he would shoot at his father’s heart. Harry wasn’t sure he understood the expression on Draco’s face, except that it wasn’t the fear that had seemed native to it during this year so far. “That doesn’t mean that I agree with it, or want to feel loyalty to you when you feel none to me.”

            “Not loyal to you?” The Lucius in the cell spoke from behind Harry, their breath thick and sweet against the back of his neck. “Is that what you think? Draco, we are more loyal than you know, loyal to the ideals of our family that we are going to support. This imprisonment is only for a short time, and then I will be free—”

            “Which one of you?” Draco asked.

            There was a silence that was broken only by the rich sounds coming out of Parkinson’s throat, the panting that Harry didn’t think she could help or stop by now. He had the feeling that she had changed forever when she shed her blood on the harp. On the other hand, that might make her less of an immediate danger.

            And his head was beginning to clear, although he still couldn’t really come to the point or form a coherent plan of attack. He did, though, start easing his hand down towards his boot. He didn’t have his wand in his hand anymore, he didn’t know what had happened to it, but there was something else there that might help him, one of the plans he had formed just in case Chervets betrayed them.

            “I will be free,” said the Lucius in front of Harry at last, shifting that little blade as though he couldn’t wait to stab someone with it. “I am Lucius Malfoy. We are both, we are one now, and there is only one.”

            Draco strode one step forwards. Staring at him as if fascinated, Lucius let him do it, but the one behind Harry clutched him so that their nails cut into his arm. Harry caught Draco’s eye and tried to blink rapidly, tried to convey the idea that he might not be that much help if Draco relied on him to do something.

            Draco seemed to understand, if the way he turned away from Harry was any indication. And he looked taller and straighter as he did it, his hair acquiring an unusual sheen, a tremor rippling up his body that firmed his spine. Maybe it mattered to him, Harry thought, to be the strong one for once, or at least someone who was cooperating in his own rescue instead of standing around and getting splattered with werewolf blood.

            “I see two bodies here,” Draco said. “And only one of them can emerge from this prison. And others will see two bodies, as well, and not know which way to turn, not know which one to arrest. Is one of you always going to stay here?” He looked straight behind Harry this time, and Harry wondered what emotions softened his eyes as he said, “Mother. You gave up your life and your existence for him. But does that mean that you have to stay in prison for all time? What are you going to do when it ends? You chose a permanent solution for a temporary problem.”

            The world changed very fast again. The Lucius in front of Harry spun away, aiming his blade, and rushed at Draco. The one behind Harry was uncertain, their hands spasming open and down. Parkinson tottered a step forwards, and then stopped, staring down at the harp, lost and confused.

            Draco braced to meet his father, and Harry heard a cry from behind him, loud-voiced, as the second Lucius started to cast a spell.

            The air blurred and shivered as the wolfwere jumped through the bars and crashed into the second Lucius, ripping and biting.

            Harry surged to his feet and flung the Wheeze he had owled George for a few weeks ago, with the vague idea of cheering Draco up, straight at the Lucius attacking Draco. Draco had used his wand to turn the blade’s thrust aside and was now dodging back and forth in front of his father, while Lucius screamed and aimed at him again. The blade was acting more like a wand, after all, Harry thought; it looked like it wouldn’t function away from him, or he would simply have flung it.

            The Lucius in the cell screamed, and then gurgled. The Wheeze burst into multi-colored sparks and noise right above the other Lucius’s ear, and he jumped and started. Draco spun past the wild thrust of the blade and came in close.

            Parkinson tried to hit Harry with the harp again.

            Harry dropped straight down to avoid her, then found his wand near at hand and cast a Tripping Jinx and a Summoning Charm at the same time. He didn’t dare use stronger spells, because, given his tendency to kill in battle, he’d probably end up killing her. And he wanted to rescue her, bring her out of this, if it could be done. He wasn’t sure that she understood what she was doing right now any more than Narcissa did.

            The harp flew out of Parkinson’s hands and towards Harry at the same moment as she sprawled face-down on the stone. Harry cast a Shield Charm to deflect it and a second hex that made it spin into the wall, shuddering all over the way Harry had when it hit him. The strings tore, and the gleam of vivid magic along its edges suddenly flickered off.

            Harry heard growls coming from the cell as he bound Parkinson, but couldn’t bring himself to look in that direction. Not yet. He wasn’t sure what had made the wolfwere attack the body of the Lucius who hadn’t actually done his pups harm, but he would have to make sense of the bloodied ruin later.

            For now, he looked for Draco.

            He was still dueling with his father, hexes flying from his wand and Lucius trying to stab him with the blade. Once, Harry thought he saw the blade about to go into Draco’s eye, and screamed a warning. Draco dodged it and continued pressing forwards, forcing Lucius onto his heels again and again.

            Draco’s face was grim, dry, drained. His eyes looked as though they had seen death get up and dance. Harry had seen that look in the mirror more times than he could count, since the war, but he hadn’t thought he would ever see it on Draco.

            And he mourned for the necessity, even though he was also proud that Draco was holding his own.

            But he hadn’t known Draco was such a good duelist. If he had been, Harry thought, then he might have had problems confronting Draco in the Room of Requirement. But he could have watched, and he could have learned.

            And he had the will, now, to confront his father and hold his own in the battle before that. That had been all that was missing in the Forest of Dean, Harry thought, heart hammering as he watched, and other times, too. It wasn’t that Draco was a horrible person, or a coward, even if he had made the wrong decisions in the past. It was that until this moment, or maybe this day, or maybe the day that he’d brewed the Dreamless Sleep Potion he gave to Chervets, he hadn’t had the determination that would let him use his natural qualities.

            Now he did.

            Draco cast Body-Binds, Leg-Locking Jinxes, Blasting Curses, and Firework Curses, one after another and with great precision. Harry had the impression that Lucius would have been countering with fancier spells, but turning his wand into a blade, or using it instead of his wand, or whatever had really happened, limited him. All he could do was whip his hand back and forth and try to stab his son. Draco kept leaping back out of reach before he circled in again.

            Then there came a complicated moment when Harry thought for a moment Draco was dead, since the blade had flickered out to touch his throat, and knowing Lucius, there was probably some kind of nasty poison on the end, and Harry had taken a step forwards with his own throat so dry that he didn’t know what he was going to say next—

            And Draco twisted again and came up, unmarked. But only a few inches of the blade hung in Lucius’s hand, snapped off near the hilt like a broken needle. He stared at it, his mouth slightly open in a way that made him look as mad as his wife. Well, Harry thought giddily, Draco had said that the body-sharing spell, or the body-creating spell, or whatever it should be referred to, drove both people mad in the end.

            For a moment, Draco stood there looking at his father. Harry didn’t think Lucius met his eyes once. He continued to gape at the shattered blade in his hand, and Draco’s mouth tightened when he saw that. Harry didn’t think he was feeling especially pitying, though.

            “Father,” Draco said, voice so soft that it made Harry’s ears ache. “It doesn’t have to end this way. I can—I can make sure that you aren’t punished for what happened.” Harry ground his teeth, but said nothing. The Aurors might be willing to grant Harry special consideration given his status, and while another thing he wouldn’t do for Draco was get Lucius’s crimes excused, he might be able to convince the Ministry to move him to St. Mungo’s instead of Azkaban. No one deserved Azkaban. “You can still have a life.” Draco half-closed his eyes and clenched his hands. “I was telling the truth. There is a spell I discovered that might disrupt the one Mother cast. I—don’t think that I can cast it right now, not at my current level of strength, but there is someone who can.” He turned his head, his eyes seeking out Harry.

            Harry nodded at once. Despite the great mass of things he would not do for Draco, a number that seemed to be growing at every hour, this was one he still could.

            Lucius moved in a serpent-like blur, seizing something from his pocket and drawing back his hand to throw it at Draco.

            He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off him, Harry thought, and lurched into clumsy motion, wondering how in the world he was going to get there before Lucius used the wand, or whatever it was, on Draco. And I shouldn’t have waited so long to nod. Why did I wait so long?

            But then—

            Then it appeared that both he, and Lucius, might have underestimated Draco.

            Draco whipped back towards Lucius, and appeared to unfold as he did so, to grow taller and stronger, straighter and more fascinating. His hand rose, and Harry saw the shine of what he at first thought was a matching blade in it. His breath caught in his throat, even though he was still running and he thought he would need all his breath for that. But he believed he was going to watch Draco kill his father, and that took precedence over a few trifling physical limitations.

            No. It wasn’t a blade. It was another potions vial.

            Draco threw it into Lucius’s face, where it appeared to explode. Lucius sank down choking, his hands flying to his neck and clutching there. His face was red. His eyes streamed what Harry hoped were tears but which looked thicker and more dramatic than that. He kicked and drummed with his heels for a moment, and then fainted. Harry could hear his breathing from where he now stood beside Draco, though, so he knew he wasn’t dead.

            “What was that?” Harry whispered, as Draco stared at his father with an expression so complex that Harry would have trembled if asked to define it.

            Draco started and turned towards him, his mouth set in a fierce frown, his hand rising as if he thought he might need to throw another potion and Harry would be the next target. Harry stepped back with his hands raised, keeping his face as blank as possible. Draco flexed his fingers and took a breath that went on endlessly.

            “A variant on a Pepper-Up Potion,” he whispered. “I got the instructions for it from the same book that taught me to brew that special Dreamless Sleep. It mentioned that it could be used as a weapon and was dangerous to someone who spilled it on themselves instead of drinking it. I—reasoned out the rest.”

            Harry just pressed Draco’s hand, and said nothing. Draco leaned against him for a moment and closed his eyes.

            Then, because someone had to and Harry didn’t want Draco to be the one who had the first sight of it, he turned around and faced the cell where Narcissa-Lucius had been, before the wolfwere sprang in and devoured her, or them.

            He had thought he would see a dead body. He had not expected to see a living one, cowering against the far wall of the cell, while the wolfwere snarled and spun around something thick and dark in its teeth. Harry would have said congealed blood at first, but this writhed as if it had its own will and kept curling up what looked like a scorpion stinger in its attempt to get at the wolfwere. Harry blinked and stared.

            The wolfwere tossed the thing into the air and then backed up beneath it, judging its fall as skillfully as Harry could have judged a Snitch’s. When it lunged and snapped this time, Harry heard a faint wail as the thick thing dissolved. Moments later, the wolfwere was licking bloody jaws, but the blood faded as Harry watched.

            Whoever or whatever was now in Lucius’s second body went on cowering against the wall. Apparently the wolfwere hadn’t stolen its soul or whatever could keep it alive.

            “What was that?” Draco whispered. He had evidently turned around to watch sometime during the ritual, and his voice was as thick as the dark thing had been, with what Harry thought was revulsion.

            The wolfwere shook himself all over and trotted towards the front of the cell, squeezing himself sideways to fit through the bars. Harry saw bones and muscles shifting under his skin, turning smaller, and then growing larger again once he was past the obstacle. Harry gripped his tongue firmly between his teeth and told himself not to throw up, that he had seen more disgusting things on their march down here, in the way the Azkaban prisoners were treated.

            “What was that?” Draco repeated, stepping forwards as the wolfwere emerged into the corridor again and sat down to lap at some ruffled fur on his paw.

            The wolfwere glanced up with his eyes as golden as the full moon. “I sensed the mind that harmed my pups in that body,” he said, tilting his head towards the cell. “It took me some time to be sure. But I went in and drew out the thing that made it harm them, and now it is dead. I could not kill either body. What had harmed my family would only flee to the other one. When I knew where it was, though, I could pull it out and kill it.”

            Harry blinked, and then shook his head. “Draco?” he asked, turning instinctively to him. “You’re the one who understands this spell better than I do. Do you know what he means?”

            Draco bit his lip and stood still for a moment, his hand reaching out as though he would lay on the wolfwere’s ruff. The wolfwere stopped grooming himself and sat still, eyes fixed on Draco in a fashion that was almost friendly. But it was clear that he wouldn’t tolerate any attempt to touch him, and after a moment, Draco shook his head and let his hand fall.

            “I think that the mind my parents shared could go back and forth between their bodies,” he whispered. “So the bargain might not have been as horrible as it seemed. Sometimes one of them could experience freedom while the other endured imprisonment. But I didn’t think my mother would ever let my father feel that way, I thought she would spend all her time here…” He let his voice trail off, and stared at the wolfwere.

            The wolfwere yawned at him, and then scratched the back of his neck with one foot. “You don’t understand the nature of the experience,” he said. “There was a desire in that mind that could move from body to body. I found it and slaughtered it. Now the desire is gone.”

            Draco swallowed, and nodded. He seemed on the edges of understanding, despite what the wolfwere had said, so Harry decided to shut up and wait for a while. Perhaps Draco would explain it to him later, and, well, if he didn’t, then it wasn’t as though Harry had to know the answer right this second.

            “Can you tell me where the desire came from?” Draco whispered. “And why he wanted the blood of your pups?”

            “The desire for power,” the wolfwere said calmly. “For mastery.” He spoke the words as though he had heard them pronounced but didn’t quite know what they meant or what they were for, Harry thought. A moment later, the wolfwere snorted, and something dark flew from his nostrils and landed in the middle of the corridor. Both Harry and Draco ignored it, though Harry thought he saw a muscle jump in the corner of Draco’s jaw. “He was using some kind of magic that needed blood, and he thought the blood of my kind would make it more powerful.” He nodded at the silver harp lying on the floor. “There is something like it there, something like what he was trying to make or build.”

            “Yes,” Draco said, and his face seemed to grow pale and narrow. “I am going to have to investigate the experiments that my father was doing, what he knew or suspected or controlled…” He blew out his breath and shook his head. “At any rate. Do you know where the desire came from?”

            The wolfwere looked at Draco, tilting his head in the way that Harry had sometimes seen a curious dog do. Not that he was about to say that in front of the wolfwere; he thought it might get his desires torn out of his mind. “How am I to know, if you do not? You are the one who should know the minds of your parents.”

            “Yes, I should have,” Draco said softly, and turned to look into the cell. The Lucius there stared back at him, and then turned and looked away. Harry thought there was more sense in the blue eyes than there had been. Maybe Draco was right and his mother would be able to return to some sense of her own individual self.

            “They cannot be the same now,” the wolfwere said. “That magic made them the same, made them one, based on what was in their minds while it existed.” When it was cast, Harry thought the wolfwere was trying to say, but either he didn’t know that for sure or he didn’t care that much about the clarity of his words. “Now it has gone. The tree cannot stand when its roots have been pulled out.”

            Draco swallowed. “Then I stand a chance of having both of them back,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder at the Lucius on the floor. “Maybe.”

            The wolfwere simply yawned. The Disillusionment Charm had long since broken from him, and Harry moved to recast it. The wolfwere turned his head and stared into Harry’s eyes for a long moment before he permitted it.

            “You did what you said you would do,” he said.

            Harry nodded back, thinking that this was the closest to a thanks that the wolfwere knew how to give, and then cast the spell. He glanced up the corridor, but saw no sign of Chervets rushing towards them. “Why do you think Chervets didn’t come?” he muttered to Draco, as he helped him Disillusion the Lucius on the floor of the corridor and then wrap him in the Invisibility Cloak. He scooped up and Disillusioned Parkinson, too, though after a few spells that should keep her unconscious for a long time.

            “He’s been paid to stay out of the way,” Draco said, and his mouth curved up and his eyes flashed. “And Azkaban guards keep to the letter and not the spirit of their bargains.”

            Harry nodded. He could be glad of that for Draco’s sake, even though it only contributed to the sickening ball of disgust in his stomach that was his determination to do something about Azkaban.

            He paused and looked back at the Lucius in the cell. “Should we be freeing your mother?” he asked.

            Draco shook his head. “I think their minds will pass back and forth more easily now, and—I hate to leave her here, but she chose it. I can work on separating them just as well when I have this one of their bodies at home.”

            Harry hesitated, but at last nodded. In the end, he wouldn’t let Lucius be declared completely innocent, and he didn’t want to leave anyone in the prison, but this seemed the best solution they could have for right now.

            Draco did pause before they Disillusioned themselves and called for Chervets, and leaned forwards to press his brow against Harry’s. Harry blinked at him from a few centimeters away, and felt his eyes trying to unfocus.

            “Thank you,” Draco whispered.

            “I didn’t do anything, really,” Harry said. “You saved yourself.”

            Draco smiled. “But you were the one who let me.” And then he Levitated Lucius’s body in the Cloak, and Disillusioned himself, and there was nothing for Harry to do but to make sure he himself and the wolfwere were hidden, and then follow.

*

            SP777: I find that long descriptive scenes often don’t move the plot along. Therefore, I only describe them when they seem like something the character would notice and when they add to the story.

            polka dot: In this case, I don’t think Lucius and Pansy suddenly appearing were really Draco’s fault.

            LeaniaSTL: Draco should keep it, now that he’s seen he can do things and not have them turn out badly, which was one of the reasons he was avoiding things so much before.

            unneeded: Thank you!

            ChaosLady: Thanks!

            Makoto_Sagara: Actually, Lucius appearing like that is the best thing that could have happened to the wolfwere, because that way, he could kill the desire that made Lucius kill his pups by having both bodies in the same place.

            And yes, Azkaban is pretty disgusting.
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Parsimony