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Acts of Life	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21189 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty-Three—Storming
            Harry stared at the owl that perched on the sill of his window. It was regal-looking, but didn’t belong to anyone he knew. And it looked as though it had had spells cast on it. As far as Harry knew, no natural owl had those white feathers with the black stripes cutting their way across them.
            Unless it’s a snowy owl that just decided to roll around in soot for some reason.
            Harry bit his lip and told himself not to be an idiot and let memories of Hedwig make him tear up, then went to let the owl in. Even when he did, the bird sat there, examining him, as if it had to make sure he was Harry Potter. Then it did move a single step forwards—Harry couldn’t call it a hop, not when it was so much on its dignity—and held out its leg while turning its head away in a small gesture of dismissal.
            Harry snorted at the owl’s theatrics, and thought he saw it twitch. There were only a small number of people this owl could belong to, he thought, as he opened the letter. And he wasn’t surprised to see the name scowling up at him from the bottom of it.
            It was from Mournegath, the man who had thought he could get away with opposing the memorial, draining Hogwarts’s lake, and building a private school for the study of the Dark Arts.
            Mr. Potter, if that is the name you still go by and you haven’t taken to calling yourself Mr. Malfoy,
            I thought you might like to know that I have brought my ideas to the members of the public as you suggested. Enclosed is the pamphlet I have published and am distributing around the Ministry. If you do not see the foolishness of opposing me after reading it, then you never will.
            “I’m afraid that your prophecy is right,” Harry said aloud, and the owl twitched.
            “It’s nothing to do with you,” Harry told him, and gave the owl a sympathetic scratch on the head. The owl actually tolerated that, although it continued to look at him as if he was somewhere between a tasty meal and a problem too small to notice.
            Harry turned to write a response, politely telling Mournegath that he could do what he liked, and Harry would enjoy reading the pamphlet. Then he held the letter out to the owl. The owl took it slowly, glancing around and ruffling its feathers as if Mournegath had told it that it would be assaulted here, and it was disappointed with Harry’s efforts in that regard.
            “It’s okay,” Harry told the bird. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I think your master will be pleased to hear from me.” Then he shoved the owl into the air, where the bird gave him one more unnerved snap before soaring away.
            Harry chuckled and shut the window, then turned to look through the pamphlet Mournegath had sent along.
            It was just as insane as he had expected.
            The proposal to drain the lake at Hogwarts showed up again, this time along with a claim that merfolk were dangerous to students because they might charm them into the water and “do unnatural things” with them. Never mind that there was no record of the merfolk in Hogwarts’s lake doing anything like that. It was still something that might happen, so they should drain the lake and set up a Dark Arts building to prevent it.
            That was the most mental part of the pamphlet, Harry thought. Mournegath said Dark Arts might cause insanity and sadistic students and all the other things they had been proven to cause at Durmstrang, but that was no reason to stop practicing them. Harry shook his head. Who does he think he is? Someone who has a lot of power?
            But when Harry read further in the pamphlet, he did think he understood. It was like Mournegath believing Harry would want to read the bloody thing. He thought everyone was standing around waiting breathlessly for his ideas, and they would rally to him, cheering, the instant they heard him.
            Dark Arts is a necessary component of the Hogwarts teaching curriculum so that we do not fall behind Durmstrang.
            That was a single sentence, without any evidence or any explanation of what it would mean for Hogwarts to fall “behind” Durmstrang. The latest news Harry had heard said that it was actually easier for Hogwarts students to find a job than Durmstrang ones, because too many Durmstrang professors had been Death Eaters, and so had some of the older students.
            Harry finally snorted and tossed the pamphlet away from him. He would deal with the consequences of this as he needed to, but for now, he had more pleasant things to think about.
*
            “There’s who in the fireplace?”
            The house-elf made another little bow to Draco, as if it thought its news would grow less absurd the more it bowed. “She is saying her name is Hermione Granger, Master Malfoy.”
            Draco blinked and stared, and blinked and stared. Still the world didn’t change around him and let him wake up from this dream.
            “But why would she be Flooing me?” he muttered. The elf held its ears in response, since of course it had no answer.
            Draco finally sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk to her,” he told the elf, who once again bowed before it vanished. Draco shook his head as he walked down the stairs to the drawing room.
            If something is wrong with Harry…
            The thought made his breath catch for a second, but then Draco reassured himself. Granger would probably have told the elf that the minute the Floo opened, so Draco would come to her faster. This way suggested she had something Weasley-related to talk about, or maybe she wanted to berate Draco for his existence.
            Draco snorted slightly as he stepped in front of the fireplace. He didn’t have to take the berating, especially since he could just cut off the Floo connection without saying anything in response. What would Granger tell Harry, that he’d been rude by not listening to her rudeness?
            But the face floating in the flames didn’t look upset or impatient. Granger just studied Draco, as if taking in every detail of the robes he chose to wear in the middle of the day, and then nodded and locked eyes with him. “Do you think that Harry will ever reconcile with us?” she asked abruptly.
            Draco blinked, and sat down. “I don’t know why you think he’s split apart from you.”
            “He doesn’t spend much time with the Weasleys at the Burrow anymore.” Granger gave a faint smile that Draco didn’t think was real. “Or with me and Ron. And it’s worrying, and annoying. We miss our friend.”
            Draco relaxed a little. It was different for her to end with those words than the ones about it being worrying and annoying. “I know he doesn’t spend a lot of time at the Burrow because he doesn’t want to make things awkward for—Ginny and her parents.” Granger didn’t explode in anger when Draco used the other woman’s first name, which Draco thought was a good sign. “With you, I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.”
            “It can only be because he’s dating you, though.”
            Draco narrowed his eyes. “Things have changed. I have no idea what would make him not spend as much time with you. Just me, or me plus being busy with his political career, or not wanting to encounter statements like the one you just made.”
            Granger paused. Then she said, “That was pretty mild.”
            “Maybe he thinks Weasley won’t be mild. I don’t know. You would have to talk to him,” Draco ended pointedly.
            Granger sighed. “You know how much we’ve been through together. You know how important he is to us.”
            “He hasn’t chosen to discuss it with me in detail,” Draco said, with a small shrug. “But yes, I know you are both his good friends, and he would hate to lose you.”
            “Then you wouldn’t try to keep him away from us?”
            Draco lifted his head. “No. Only away from Weasley’s sister, but she hasn’t made an attempt to approach him anyway.”
            “You have nothing to fear from Ginny. And Ron—wouldn’t urge Harry to date Ginny, either. He finally talked with his parents and with Ginny. I think he knows now that that’s never going to happen.” Granger paused, and Draco couldn’t interpret the expression on her face. Then Granger said, “So you could tell Harry that.”
            “I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t tell Harry that,” Draco pointed out. “You’re the one who wants to know his reasons for doing whatever he’s doing.”
            “I—the situation might still be too volatile—”
            “Merlin spare me from Gryffindors who shouldn’t have been Sorted into Gryffindor because of their lack of courage.”
            That worked. Granger straightened so hard that Draco imagined he could hear the snap of her spine across the miles. “That’s a low blow, Malfoy,” she said.
            Draco shrugged. “You’re the one who’s convinced Harry’s avoiding you, for whatever reason. I didn’t know he was. I haven’t talked to him about it. The only thing I know is that he’s not going to date Weasley’s sister again, and that’s enough for me. You’re the one who needs to go make peace with Harry, or talk to him and find out all your worries are delusions, or whatever the truth really is.”
            Granger made a little motion with her mouth Draco didn’t understand. “And you’re saying you don’t give a damn if we make that peace or not. I thought you cared about Harry.”
            “I do,” Draco said. He would have got upset at that accusation if Granger had made it a few days ago, but now he understood things he doubted Granger could understand if they bit her on the arse. He folded his hands and smiled at her. “About Harry. I want him happy. But as far as I can tell, he’s not unhappy. He might not even know that you see him as avoiding you. You’re the one who has to have the courage to talk to him and figure it out one way or another.”
            “And you won’t stir yourself for us.”
            “No more than you would for me.”
            Granger squinted at him. “It’s not the same thing.”
            “Of course not. One of those would involve you acting, and one would involve me acting. I’m naturally lazy. I know what I would prefer.”
            Granger wasn’t squinting as hard. “There’s something to what you say, Malfoy.” Draco held his tongue against the impulse to agree with her, loudly and insincerely. Granger hesitated a moment, then added, “I—don’t think that Harry would mind if I talked to him.”
            “Of course he wouldn’t.”
            Granger nodded. “If I talk to him, and it turns out it’s nothing, expect an invitation to dinner with us. While Harry’s there, of course,” she added hastily, as if she assumed Draco would be dying to invade her kitchen without Harry at his back.
            “Done,” Draco said, and waited until the Floo connection shut and he was sure Granger had gone.
            Then he leaned back on his couch and laughed and laughed, because what else could he do?

*
SP777: But I’ve already done wedding scenes for them, in stories like There’s a Pure-Blood Custom For That.
Severus1snape: Thank you.
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Acts of Life