Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Name I'll Give to Thee	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42129 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Thirty-Three—Long Confessions

            “Do you want to tell me what you did to Zabini?”

            Harry’s voice was low and undemanding. Draco sat in front of the fire in the library where they had retreated, and looked into the flames, and said nothing, though. The moment when he wanted to take revenge on Blaise had passed, and with it had passed his resolve. He didn’t know what he would say if he opened his mouth to talk about it now. He didn’t know what Harry would accept.

            He was snappish and hunching, and that made him feel vulnerable. He didn’t like the steady light in Harry’s eyes. He didn’t like anything about what he had done, or the haunting fear in the back of his mind that he might have made the wrong decision.

            “You don’t have to talk about it.” Harry leaned forwards a little, drawing Draco’s eyes. “But I’d like to know.”

            Draco could feel his breath quickening as he swallowed. Harry’s eyes were wide and gentle, compassionate, and he looked as though he’d like to reach out and stroke Draco’s fringe back from his forehead. It was the way he had looked when Draco went to bed with him for the first time, or the way he’d looked in hospital after Draco was stabbed at the Ministry.

            “There were reasons I wanted to do it alone,” Draco said. “I don’t think it fits into torture, or I couldn’t have done it, but you might not approve.”

            Harry blinked. “That would stop you?”

            Draco rolled his eyes, glad that they had something to fight about. That always made him feel better. “I already did it, so no, obviously. But just as you were afraid of the way I might look at you after you forced the Veritaserum down Robbs’s throat, I’m a little afraid of the way you might look at me over this.”

            Harry leaned back in his chair and seemed to think about that for a while. Draco drank the water Ossy had brought to ease his throat. He’d thought about asking for something stronger, but it was still some hours until dinner, and Ossy had Views about alcohol.

            “All right,” Harry said. “I can’t promise that I wouldn’t disapprove of some things you could do, some Dark curses, but I’d still like to hear.”

            Draco raised his eyebrows. “And you won’t glare?”

            “I can’t promise that,” Harry repeated, in that gentle, infuriating way. “All I can say is that I’d like to hear about it, put the invitation out there. You don’t have to tell me. I can’t force you. I’d still like to hear it.”

            Sometimes being married to a Gryffindor is more trouble than it’s worth. But Draco had come this far, and Harry’s face was almost neutral, really, laid open like this. Certainly quiet, more hopeful than he had thought it would be, gentler. Accepting. And if Draco couldn’t find acceptance from the demi-husband who had become so strangely attached to him, where would he find it?

            So Draco told him about the Blood-Turning Curse, and if he leaned back in his chair as the story went on and contemplated his fingers, laced in front of him, well, that was his business, wasn’t it? Harry could still turn away or make disgusted facial expressions, and this way, Draco wouldn’t have to see them.

*

            Harry had never heard of the Blood-Turning Curse. Listening to it, he thought he could see why. He was an expert mostly on the kinds of curses that could be performed in battle, and you wouldn’t use that there. You wouldn’t have the time to finish uttering a three-part curse, for one thing.

            But that Draco had done it to Zabini…

            He must hate him now. And he said that he was his friend before, or at least Zabini seemed convinced they were close enough that Draco would have been glad to marry him.

            Harry rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. He knew that he would probably phrase this time the wrong way and alienate Draco, at least a little bit, but he couldn’t think of any other way to ask what he wanted to ask. So he came out with it.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—is there something else you could have done that would have allowed you to keep his friendship? Did you think you had to use the Blood-Turning Curse because he tried to attack me? Because I could probably protect myself, if you want to take it back and use a less violent punishment.”

            Draco stared at him. He had been looking at his hands the whole time he told the story to Harry, but now he sat up in his chair and pointed his face at Harry like a hawk getting ready to dive off its branch. “Explain what you mean,” he whispered.

            “I mean,” Harry said, “that Zabini was your friend, and I would hate to lose a friend like that. Did you want to do something else? I could protect myself if you wanted to use something else.”

            “This is exactly what I hate,” Draco said, and his hands crushed together in his lap.

            “What?” Harry asked, in honest bewilderment.

            “You acting like you’re less important than anyone else,” Draco said, and jammed his glass on the table—which told Harry a little about how upset he was, because normally he would have more of a care for inherited Malfoy furniture—and leaping to his feet to pace back and forth. “What the fuck can I say to convince you that I would do anything for you? That my demi-husband is more important than someone who admitted he would only take and not give if he married me?”

            “It’s just,” Harry said, floundering a little. He could feel the back of his neck tingling the way it normally only did when he could feel an enemy staring at him. He would do anything for me? Really? “I want you to have everything you want. Within reason, I mean. Your friends and your demi-marriage, your wand and your wards back. I don’t want you to feel like I’m limiting your choices.”

            Draco spun around. “I don’t feel that way. Satisfied?”

            “Don’t you want Zabini back as a friend?” Harry countered. “Maybe you weren’t really close to him, but he’s still someone you’ve known for a long time. Don’t you want him back?”

            Draco said, “I don’t consider anyone who tries to kill me a friend. Or who tries to kill my husband, if you really want to make that distinction,” he added, which Harry was indeed opening his mouth to do. “If you would consider someone a friend even after that, then I really have to worry about the intensity of your friendships.”

            Harry huffed and crossed his arms. He was saying the wrong thing all the time, and now Draco was the one who seemed serious and honest and adult in a way that Harry didn’t think he would able to compare to. “I might think about whether my friend was under the Imperius Curse, or something like that.”

            Draco laughed, showing teeth that seemed whiter and sharper than Harry remembered them. “Blaise was under the influence of good, honest ambition. He admitted as much in that conversation you overheard.” He took a long, sliding step towards Harry. “What is this really about?”

            “It’s about wanting you to have everything you want!” Harry snapped. “I said that already! You should have your friends, and if this demi-marriage is going to cost you your friends, then I wonder if—”

            Draco made a sound that Harry thought would have been appropriate for suddenly seeing Shepherd appear in front of them armed with his wand again, and then crossed the distance between them. His hands clamped down on Harry’s arms, and Harry winced despite himself. Draco shook him, furious and frantic, leaning in close enough that Harry’s eyes crossed trying to keep up with him.

            “You keep acting like you’re the worst thing in my life, or that I must regret the marriage to you, or something like that,” Draco said, in what wasn’t a shout only because it was so intense and so close. “What can I do to make you see that it’s not like that? Do you want me to make a love confession? Get down on my knees and propose real marriage? Take you to bed and fuck the daylights out of you? What, Harry? I don’t know what can make you see that, if my words don’t.”

            By the end of his monologue, he’d let Harry go and turned away with his head bowed between his shoulders like a turtle. Harry rubbed the bruises Draco’s hands had left on his arms and took a deep breath.

            All right. I don’t have the right words, but maybe Draco didn’t think his were, either, and he gave them to me anyway. So I’ll give him some.

            “I just want you to have everything you want,” he repeated quietly to Draco’s back. “If that’s me—shit, Draco, good. But I’m still upset that Zabini was such a wanker and you couldn’t stay his friend, too.”

            Draco turned slowly back towards him. His arms were still folded, but he wasn’t ducking his head as much anymore. “And if I tell you that I don’t want Blaise’s friendship back ever again, and that’s done, and I’m glad it’s done, if he could strike at my family the way he did?”

            Harry nodded. “That would help. I would still worry about it hurting you, but I do that with all my friends.” He tried to smile.

            Draco moved a step closer to him, eyes bright and interested. “And do you have sex with all your friends?”

            Harry knew he was blushing, but that hadn’t been something he expected Draco to say. “There are a lot of people who would say that that didn’t count as real sex,” he muttered, to have something to say. “I mean—I think it does, but you don’t have to worry about my doing it with my other friends. Maybe you have, though. Um.”

            Draco was smiling at him now, and in a way that made Harry think his words might have been too serious. He reached out and put his hand on Harry’s right shoulder, then moved in even closer and put his hand on Harry’s left. He left them both there, stroking slowly up and down, which Harry could feel, even through the cloth. He was shivering by now.

            “I’m sorry about losing Blaise, to an extent,” Draco said. “I really thought I could trust him more than that. And I can’t pretend that I won’t ever wonder what he’s doing or what he would think and say about something.”

            He moved closer, and forced Harry’s legs open. Harry had to cling to Draco’s shoulders in turn to keep upright. Draco touched Harry’s cheek briefly with his chin, then moved sideways to whisper into his ear.

            “But I’ll always choose my family. And you’re family, now.”

            Harry thought about the things Draco had been willing to do for his parents during sixth year, and swallowed. “Just don’t put yourself in extreme danger for me,” he said, moving his hands around to Draco’s back. Draco’s shoulders didn’t feel broad enough to carry everything they needed to.

            “If you return the favor.”

            “I can protect you,” Harry said. “I don’t know if you could do the same thing for me. I mean,” he added with extreme haste as Draco moved away and stared at him, “not without getting yourself into trouble. I’m a trained Auror.”

            “Who gets wounded and into trouble anyway,” Draco said dryly, while his fingers pinched at Harry’s shoulders.

            “Yeah, but—I just really want to protect you,” Harry said.

            “And I want to do the same thing.” Draco was giving him a pleasant smile that Harry recognized from some of their fights in Hogwarts. “If we just agree that we can both do it and we’ll fight side-by-side, then we’ll get along a lot better.”

            Harry thought about the way those fights in Hogwarts had gone, and ended up nodding. He was anxious to avoid another one, if he could. And not just because he and Draco were married, now.

            “Good,” Draco whispered. He stepped up to Harry again, and put his hands back in place on his shoulders. Harry reached up to clasp his hands there, and closed his eyes. “I hope I’ve sufficiently reassured you that I don’t regret the loss of Blaise, compared to what I might have lost in you.”

            Harry hesitated, then nodded. “You’ve convinced me of that,” he murmured.

            “Good,” Draco repeated, and kissed him.

            Harry held him still, combing his fingers through Draco’s hair. Draco’s tongue was thick and sweet and wonderful in Harry’s mouth, and he found that he didn’t want to give the kiss up. When Draco started to pull back, Harry chased his mouth, and Draco laughed and used his grip on Harry’s shoulders to hold him back this time.

            Harry opened his eyes. Draco’s hair stuck out like straw, and he was smiling so hard that Harry reached out to touch the smile, to make sure that it was real. Draco caught his hand and kissed his knuckles, then lowered Harry’s hand back to his side. His eyes were shining, were warm, and Harry leaned forwards a little, waiting to hear what he would say.

            Then a sharp pop cut the air, and Ossy’s voice said, “Mistress Narcissa is being awake, and is asking for Master Draco and Master Harry.” He managed to make it sound as though it was momentous and ordinary at once, which Harry thought a pretty good trick for a house-elf.

            Draco blinked, then stepped back from Harry and bowed slightly to him. “It seems that you’re going to meet my mother properly this time, without her lying to a Dark Lord for you. Will you come with me?”

            Although he badly wanted to know what Draco had been about to say, Harry wondered how in the world Draco could think that he wouldn’t want to come with him. He reached out and caught Draco’s hands, swinging them slightly back and forth. “Of course I do. If only to show her that I can be polite to my mother-in-law.”

*

            Narcissa was sitting up when they came into her room, and looked better than when Draco had last seen her, with fewer shadows beneath her eyes and her hands less like twisted claws. She held a steaming mug of tea in her palms. Now and then she lifted it to her lips and sipped. Draco wanted to explode in pride that she was feeding herself, but he contented himself with catching her eyes and grinning.

            His mother understood. She had always been quick at games like that. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned to Harry. “Mister Potter.”

            Draco opened his mouth, but shut it, because Harry had already bowed and said, “Harry Malfoy, but I appreciate that it’ll take you some time to get used to it. It did for me.”

            And that was a test, Draco saw, from the quick, critical way that Narcissa’s eyes flickered over Harry. Well. Harry had passed it. Draco didn’t think his mother could have gone so quickly from “Black” to “Malfoy” when she married.

            “I understand I have you to thank for this,” Narcissa whispered, and gestured to her white hair and age-marked skin.

            Harry held her eyes and nodded without flinching. “That was the major reason I wanted to marry Draco and make up for it. I couldn’t stand to think that I had deprived you of your right to live as long as you naturally would.”

            Narcissa examined him again. Draco watched him and wondered where this sudden graciousness had come from—but he thought he knew, when he considered it more deeply. Harry was treating Narcissa like a potential enemy, with the same distant courtesy he’d probably use to someone at the Ministry. Draco had forced Harry to engage with him at a deeper, more personal level from the time he had come to see him at Weasley’s bedside.

            I want him to engage with Mother like that, too.

            Draco had to admit that it would be hard as long as Narcissa was intent on testing Harry, though. He took a step closer to Harry and caught his mother’s eye, hoping she would read the signals and give Harry some time and space to react in a different way. Narcissa flicked him the edge of a smile and faced Harry again.

            “It is good that you are making up for it in a way that pays the debts and respects the old pure-blood ways, at least,” she said. “I am somewhat surprised that you agreed to this, and that your friends let you.”

            “I never meant to let my friends have any say in who I married.” Harry’s voice was polite, friendly, easy. “I got married somewhat sooner than I would have otherwise when Draco came asking for my hand, of course. I would have done something else if there was a different way to solve the problem. But Draco assured me there wasn’t.”

            Another moment of silence, while his mother sipped her tea. Draco could have shaken his head, and wished he dared do so. Harry could respond to this kind of challenge all day. He could answer pointed questions, and he wouldn’t mean any of the answers. He could smile, and he would never mean it.

            Draco spoke before his mother could finish the swallows of tea. “What my mother wants to know, Harry, is whether you regret allying with us.”

            “Regret marrying you? No.” Harry smiled at him. “But I thought I would when I first married you, of course. It wasn’t a promising beginning.” He turned to Narcissa. “Draco hasn’t asked me to do anything that I was really unwilling to do. I hope you won’t, either.”

            Well, that’s one kind of personal assurance, Draco thought, a little dazed, and turned back to Narcissa.

            “Perhaps I may come not to regret your introduction into the family, Mr. Malfoy,” Narcissa said, and smiled at Draco, probably because he had about to flinch from her saying “Potter.” “At the moment, I am thinking more of what you cost us than what you brought us.”

            “Understandable,” Harry said calmly, before Draco could protest about his wand and the wards. “What would you like me to do?”

            “What makes you think that I’d like you to do anything?” Narcissa sipped her tea again. She was using it much the way she had a glass of wine at dinners when his father was free, Draco thought, to shield her mouth and give her hands something to do. He sighed, torn between gladness that she was well enough to do things like that and frustration that she couldn’t accept Harry as the son-in-law he was now.

            “Because the questions you’re asking me are all ones that you know the answer to.” Harry watched her unblinking. “So you must want something else, and you’re testing my reactions until we get there.”

            Narcissa smiled with the barest curl of her lips. “Very, very good, Mr. Malfoy. There is something I want, in fact.” She set her teacup delicately aside and leaned forwards. “While the strength you’ve brought to the family will sustain us for a time, I think we need something else to make us stronger still.”

            “Name it.” Harry watched her like a hovering hawk.

            “I’m not sure that you should promise to do it for me before I tell you what it is.” Narcissa pursed her lips thoughtfully.

            “That wasn’t a promise.”

            Narcissa blinked. Draco blinked. He touched Harry’s back with one hand, slowly, carefully. Harry gave no sign that he noticed. He waited, and he watched Narcissa, and there was a tension in the room that had little to do with the past, Draco thought, staring back and forth between both of these people who were in his family.

            “I want you to free my husband,” Narcissa said at last. “He has spent enough time in prison, enough to pay for whatever crimes he might have committed. He deserves to be free, to spend what might be the last years of his life with his wife and son.”

            “And his son-in-law?” Harry’s muscles had tensed beneath Draco’s hand the moment Narcissa started speaking, but he didn’t break away. He didn’t sound as though Narcissa’s announcement had surprised him. His voice was very distant, very thin, reminding Draco of some winds he had heard blowing around the Manor on winter nights. Draco eyed him uneasily. Harry said nothing, but Draco didn’t like the glaze in his eyes.

            “Lucius will be disappointed, certainly,” Narcissa said, aiming her cup a little at Harry. “But he will adapt, as I have. As I will,” she added, perhaps because she had seen something in Harry’s face that told her he didn’t believe she had adapted to him yet.

            Harry nodded, and said nothing for long moments. Then he murmured, “This will take me a short time to think about.”

            “What is there to think about?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows. “One member of your beloved new family asks you to do something. And you were willing to marry Draco, to make a much greater sacrifice.”

            Harry smiled. Draco shuddered and stepped to the side so that he didn’t have to see it. “I think you know little about what kinds of sacrifices it costs me to make, and what it doesn’t,” Harry murmured. “But I will think about it, because Draco didn’t ask me to do something illegal. You are.”

            “I did not say that you could not use legal methods to free him.”

            “You implied that I should move quickly,” Harry said gently. “With the line about how you wanted him to spend whatever time he has left with you and Draco. And legal methods would take time.”

            “You would surely have to agree that Lucius has paid for his crimes.” Narcissa leaned forwards. “You agreed that Draco and I had.”

            Harry stood silent for long moments. Draco had no idea what he was thinking, for the first time in weeks. He stirred, but he didn’t think he could say anything. The tension lay on his tongue like the bit of a bridle, preventing it.

            “Neither you nor Draco tried to kill me directly,” Harry said at last. “He did. Neither of you tried to murder one of my friends, not directly.” He glanced at Draco. “There was an accident with poison that could have killed Ron, but he lived. Ginny Weasley wouldn’t have lived if I hadn’t—if there hadn’t been a good bit of luck with the diary.”

            “Shall I call in one of my life-debts?” Narcissa asked, soft as new snowfall. “I want my husband back at my side. You are a poor substitute.”

            Harry just looked at her, and then he bowed. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said, and walked out of the room.

            Draco could feel his mother’s gaze on him. For long moments, he didn’t know what he should do, and he hesitated, with words hovering on his tongue that might not want to speak.

            Then he turned and hurried after Harry, telling Ossy and Affy over his shoulder to bring his mother anything she wanted.

*

            SP777: What do you mean by “good part?” Sex might be delayed for a while.

            polka dot: Blaise is going to have a hard time thinking of anything but Draco for a long, long time.

            delia cerrano: Why? I think they cooperate pretty well now. Some misunderstandings are always going to happen.

            Diana: Less than soon this time, sorry.

            nightlo: Yes, they still don’t know that for sure.
- 32
- 33
- 34
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Name I'll Give to Thee