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Easy as Falling	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31246 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Thirty-Three—Carrying the Battle to the Enemy
            Harry let the magic flow.
            He stepped out of the way, in his mind and in his magical core, and the power lapped and leaped through him, fast enough that he felt as if his mind was whirling away with it on the tide. He was sure that he could get control over it any time he wanted, though, so he waited to see what it would do. He hadn’t really known the kind of restrictions he would dream up for Rosenthal before he did, and he hadn’t known he would come up with the dragon that could scratch Rosier.
            The magic settled into a heavy, fire-colored lump. Harry was disappointed for a second. Compared to a lot of the other things he’d created, it didn’t look very, well, creative.
            Then the creature turned and stared at him, and Harry realized it did have a head, although it was sunk and buried in the weight of the thing’s shoulders. It unfolded its neck, unfurled it, and following it into existence came a pair of great wings. The creature extended on and on, up and up, until its body filled most of the corridor, curling and shifting, and Harry recognized it as a dragon.
            Just a dragon much bigger than the one he had created to watch over Rosier, and one that had glowing golden eyes and claws that blazed with inner light.
            Harry swallowed. He knew the dragon was waiting for instructions, but he wanted to circle around it for one second, touch the plates of its scales. The dragon let him do it. The scales felt like warm, heavy coins beneath Harry’s hand.
            Harry smiled up at it. “I want you to frighten them,” he said, in what could have been either English or Parseltongue. He didn’t know at the moment, and he didn’t care. “I want you to herd them with fire into the center of the Wizengamot’s courtroom and hold them there, until I come.”
            The dragon’s wings creaked in response and it slithered down the corridor. Harry watched it go, shaking his head a little. And then he turned back to Draco and knelt next to him. Now that the immediate need for revenge was over, he thought his magic would be a little gentler, and that meant he could try seeing what the spell had done to Draco.
            “Draco?” he whispered, keeping his voice low enough so that no one creeping up the corridor could hear him. No need to let them know that the person who had accompanied Harry and stood at his shoulder was one of the candidates for Minister.
*
            Draco heard the word from across a great gulf. He knew his name, and he knew that he had to wait here until someone told him to come. He had to wait for orders. That was the central purpose of his being, and this country, which was fire-colored and constantly shifting, would be his home until it was realized.
            Now he felt the rest of his being pivoting to look outside himself. He knew that something was coming, knew that he would be rewarded soon, told to follow orders and do as he was supposed to. And a voice spoke his name. It was still his name. It was the key to his existence. He stood and turned in that direction, and reconnected with his body.
            When he opened his eyes, Harry was bending over him. Draco knew the name, but more than that, he knew the impulse that flowed through his body, the impulse of absolute and imperative obedience. He nodded and said, “Yes, sir?”
            Harry paused, then cursed. Draco couldn’t understand what for. Maybe he didn’t want Draco to obey him.
            Draco felt a flicker in him, the sharp struggle that began in a few moments and stopped after a few more. Maybe he didn’t want to be a slave, not all of him. Maybe this wasn’t the life that he would have chosen. Draco shrugged mentally. It was the life that he had.
            “Yes, sir?” he repeated again. It was the only set of words he could use until his master told him to say something else.
            Harry paused, a tongue darting out to lick his lips. Draco felt a response beneath his conscious mind, on the level of flesh and blood. Once, he thought, he would have been very happy to feel that response. He would have liked to see Harry lick his lips that way.
            But Draco couldn’t remember why. And it was tiring to concentrate on issues like that, on things he wasn’t supposed to think about. Instead, he stood at attention, and when Harry asked, “Do you know who cast the spell on you?”, he was ready to answer, even though the question didn’t make much sense at first.
            “I can feel the intention through the magic, sir,” he said, cocking his head and trying to think. Distantly, as though it was a childhood memory, he knew he’d knocked Harry to the ground, and he remembered the spell going off around his head. There was a name in there, a murmur and a rhythm to the magic that Draco didn’t think he was supposed to hear, but he heard it anyway, because he was good at that.
            There was a flash of pride. Was that inappropriate? Draco didn’t know. He thought he was just supposed to be proud to serve his master, not about anything else, but to be honest, he didn’t think he could manage that.
            There was so much going on in his head, impulses fighting and clashing. Draco thought he would be glad if Harry gave him more direct orders, so that he could rest and obey and do what he was supposed to do in the first place.
            “And the name that the magic gave was Hammon Rosier,” Draco said.
            He couldn’t remember that, either. Was that the man he was supposed to obey, instead of Harry? But Harry gave a savage smile, and Draco decided that it didn’t matter. Harry was stronger, and closer, and more frightening. Draco would listen to him and do what he told Draco to do, and that would probably be okay.
            “Good,” Harry said, and reached out to put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, gazing deeply into his eyes. “I know this is probably frightening for you. I promise, I’ll figure out how to reverse the spell as soon as possible. And Rosier will pay for this.”
            Another flash from Draco’s buried thoughts, this time of satisfaction. He decided that he might as well just accept it, since he wouldn’t get any answers any time soon, and settle back to wait for further instruction.
*
            Harry stood. He could feel his thoughts tangling around each other, snarling, flailing, and hitting each other with their feet. He didn’t think he cared.
            His mind was on Rosier, and the dragon that would have flown into the Wizengamot courtroom a short time ago and caged him there.
            Harry smiled. He suddenly thought he’d like to see the courtroom, and the rage and hatred that would be etched into Rosier’s face. Or would there only be fear?
            He started up the corridor, and paused when he realized that Draco was standing still behind him. Then he remembered the limitations of the spell, and stifled a sigh. He didn’t want Draco to think that Harry was irritated with him.
            “Come on, Draco,” he said.
            “Yes, sir,” Draco said, and fell into step behind him, as light and fast as though he wanted to obey Harry’s every desire. Of course, given the spell, right now that wasn’t far from the truth.
            Harry narrowed his eyes in silent thought. He wanted to do something to Rosier that would punish him for this, but he also didn’t want to reveal that it was Draco the spell had seized. Who could he come up with that would be important enough to him to justify the kind of vengeance he was going to take?
            Then Harry smiled and shook his head. He had almost forgotten that he didn’t need to come up with someone. He just had to show his hand as a Dark Lord, the same hand he had decided he was going to show when he made his promise to Rosenthal, and set the first dragon on Rosier.
            Any of his people were important to him. Any of his people, he would fight to protect. And for all the Wizengamot knew, Draco was one of his people, since he was disguised.
            Not revealing our relationship turned out to be a good thing, after all.
*
            When they entered the Wizengamot courtroom, Harry saw Rosier at once. He stood at the front of the group of people that the dragon had herded into the center of the room, his arms spread as though he was defending them. His wand was in his hand, but he hadn’t raised it. He probably knew there was nothing he could do against Harry’s magic.
            Harry strode forwards, smiling. He lifted his hands, and the dragon turned into phantom flame and billowed over to settle on his shoulders. For a moment, the fire flickered there, the flames trailing like banners and snapping at each other. Then they faded, and Rosier turned and looked at him in the clear light.
            “I assume this is some demonstration of your powers as a Dark Lord.” Rosier’s voice was low and charged, and he didn’t look away from Harry’s face. Harry wondered for a second why he wasn’t trying to assert his control through the spell that he had used to trap Draco, then smiled again. The dragon itself would have told Rosier that Harry hadn’t fallen into his trap.
            “It is,” Harry said. “Since you left a trap for one of my people, and made it clear that you don’t give a shit about my freedom.”
            Rosier sharpened his gaze and his stance. Harry could almost feel his mind ticking over. If Harry thought it was a trap for his people and not him, then Rosier might escape from this. Harry wouldn’t know that Rosier had meant to control him instead.
            Harry would have laughed in pity if the rage burning inside him had let him. Hurting one of his people was worse than hurting him. Rosier attributed his own ideals to Harry, seeming to think Harry valued his own skin more than those who supported him.
            “Can you prove this?” Rosier asked, his voice soft and passionless. “Your man looks fine to me.”
            Harry turned to Draco. “Come forwards and stand here,” he said. He would use no names, not even fake ones. There was no need to set up a false identity that the Ministry could later prove false.
            Draco moved forwards, his eyes glazed. Harry looked over the Wizengamot and chose Landen, who was staring back at him, motionless. “Madam Landen,” he said. “Would you mind casting a spell that would reveal the trace of any mind-control hex?”
            “If you are accusing Master Rosier of using the Imperius Curse, then you should simply say so,” said Landen, fingering her wand.
            “Everyone knows that using one of the Unforgiveables inside the Ministry would trigger all sorts of wards,” Harry said. “No, I am accusing Master Rosier of being more subtle than that. Cast the spell, please, Madam Landen.”
            Landen did it, staring at him all the time as though Harry had gone mad. Harry didn’t look away from Rosier. He seemed cool, standing there, but it was possible that he would break and run once he realized what the spell said about him. Harry wanted to be sure that that didn’t happen.
            The incantation Landen used, one of several that would tell whether someone had used the Imperius Curse, one of its relatives, Legilimency, or even a compulsion potion, rose into the air and danced away to coil around Draco’s head. For a long second, it hovered there, a luminous cloud, and Harry wondered whether Rosier had been clever enough to use a variant of the normal curse that couldn’t be detected.
            Then the cloud flashed a bright and angry red. Harry smiled, but he saw the way Rosier took a step back despite himself, and thought he knew what the smile looked like.
            “You cannot prove that I was the one who used it,” Rosier said, his lips barely moving. “You have many enemies. Any one of them might have used the chance to try and snare—one of your people.”
            He nearly said “you,” Harry thought. He’s rattled. Maybe I can push him into making a mistake, if I shove hard enough.
            “And how many of those enemies would have known that I was coming to the Ministry today?” he asked softly. “How many of them would invite me to the Wizengamot’s courtroom? How many of them would have recently tried to blackmail someone into hurting me, or admitted that they knew about the abuse I suffered and yet chose to continue letting me suffer anyway?”
            Rosier looked him straight in the eye and lied. “Any of them could have known, if they were on the Wizengamot. Plenty of people know about your abuse now, thanks to the pictures that…certain people were unwise enough to spread. I am your enemy, Mr. Potter, but I hope that that doesn’t extend to using mind control spells on the helpless people who follow you.”
            Landen stepped back, putting distance between herself and Rosier, maybe without even realizing it. Harry thought, She knew, and shoved again, hard. “What would I see if I was to look into your mind right now?” he asked. “Or use Veritaserum on you? Would I see what you just told me, or would I see the truth of what I know?”
            Rosier raised his eyebrows. “Have you gained an unexpected gift in the brewing of controlled potions, Mr. Potter? Nothing that I remember reading about you said that you were skilled at making Veritaserum. And no one else has ever claimed that you were a skilled Legilimens, either, despite the rumors about you being trained by Albus Dumbledore himself.”
            Damn cold politician. Harry took a step forwards, and ignored the flinches from Landen and a few other people. He would deal with them later, if they had known. For now, he was more interested in Rosier. “I don’t need to use Legilimens to tear apart your mind,” he said. “Even to make the contents visible to other people. It would be easier on you if you just confessed, Mr. Rosier.”
            “That would imply that I was guilty,” Rosier said, still meeting Harry’s eyes with no sign that he was angry or upset. “And my proper title is Master Rosier, as you were giving me just a moment ago. What has changed? Because you still have no proof of your ridiculous claim.”
            Harry stiffened. Rosier had a slight smile on his lips now, as though he thought Harry would walk out of here because Rosier could speak smooth words and had a smooth, lying tongue.
            That was it. Harry was done playing by the rules, especially when all of them knew that Rosier had planned to trap Harry and control his mind, and had actually done it with Draco, and kept supporting Rosier anyway.
            Harry plunged. There was a sensation like falling down a long tunnel, and then Rosier’s thoughts were streaming past him. Brightly-colored memories of conquering enemies contrasted with beige ones of meetings in the Ministry, and Rosier was screaming at him in shock and telling him to get out, get out.
            He couldn’t push Harry out, though. This wasn’t Legilimency in the traditional sense. This was the tearing apart that Harry had promised, and he shot and cut through Rosier’s mind until he found the memory that he sought: the meeting where he had persuaded several other Wizengamot members that Harry would be less dangerous with this spell on his mind.
            Harry yanked the memory back out and made it solid, made it play for the others. Garbled words filled the air, becoming more real a moment later.
            “—sure this will work?” That was Landen’s voice. Harry pivoted slowly towards her, and Landen went white.
            “Yes.” Rosier, smooth and cool as he had been only a few moments ago, as he wasn’t now, lying on the floor screaming and bleeding from the eyeballs. “There’s no other way we can safely control him, but we have to control him somehow. It’s just going to take careful handling of him in the right way. Leave the trap up to me. We’ll spring it in the corridor leading up to the courtroom. That way, no one can accuse us of doing something to him in the middle of the ridiculous speech he’ll no doubt make to us.”
            The images and words came to a halt as Harry lifted his hand, and the memory dissipated. Blood was throbbing in his ears, and he wanted to strike, he wanted to hurt, he wanted to injure, he wanted to kill.
            “You were going to do that to me,” he said. “I think it only fair that you should experience some of what it’s like.” He twisted his hand and focused his will and magic, and Rosier floated back to his feet, still scrabbling at his eyes. The blood wouldn’t stop trickling from the corners of his eyeballs, at least until Harry eyed him with contempt and fire cauterized the savage tears.
            “Yes, I think you should know what it’s like,” Harry said. “For one moment, one moment only. Dissolvo obices.”
*
            delia cerrano: Yes, Harry is very tired, of a lot of things.
            SP777: After what Harry does in the next chapter, there will be no compromise with Rosier.
            streakerboi: Thank you!
            CareLessLover: Well, they don’t know who Draco is, and their notion of his relationship with Draco is a bit confused as it is.
            kain: Harry is going to tell Ron and Hermione some things in Chapter 34. He’s not going to have a choice.
            Moodysavage: Yes, especially now that he knows more members of the Wizengamot plotted with Rosier to spring the trap on Draco, thinking they’d be springing it on Harry instead.
            petalsoft: Thank you!
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Easy as Falling