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The Rising of the Stones	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13237 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty-Four—Teaching
“I didn’t expect this.”
Draco looked up. Harry was sitting across the table from him, staring in silent shock at a letter that had come with the morning owl-post. Draco casually shifted himself around so he could see it. The outside had had nothing remarkable on it.
The rambling words and the scrawled writing made him want to shake his head and back away the instant he looked at it, but he forced himself to persevere. It seemed that whoever had written this wanted Harry to teach them earth magic. They also babbled on about what a great and sensitive hero he was, and how brave it was of him to live without a soulmate, but that was the gist of it.
“What do I do?”
Draco swallowed back a laugh when he saw that Harry had turned to him for advice. “What do you mean, what do you do? You have to write back and decide whether you want to tutor this person or not.”
“Of course I don’t!”
“Then tell them that,” Draco said, with a shrug, and returned to his eggs. Now that he knew for sure this wasn’t a political threat, he was more amused than anything. Harry was turning this into a bigger deal than it needed to be.
“How can I?”
“You pick up your quill, and you write the words. Make sure that you remember how to shape the letters so someone can read them, unlike the chicken scratch that you have there.” Draco pointed with his chin at the letter. It didn’t deserve any more polite gesture.
“Very funny.”
Draco would have started really teasing him then, but he took in the way Harry was clutching the letter, almost ripping it, and shook his head. “What’s bothering you so much? This is probably the first time someone wanted you to teach them earth magic, but the other sentiments aren’t new. And you told me that people used to write to you because they wanted to learn how to defeat Dark Lords or duel.”
“I know, but…” Harry stared down at the letter, then up at Draco with a ferocity that caught him by surprise. “Do you think I might have made other people discontent with their soulmates?”
“Does that letter say something about it?”
Nodding, Harry swallowed. Draco watched disapprovingly. He could at least have swallowed food, instead of air, which Draco was afraid he had. “It says that she thought the man she was dating was her true love, because he shares her soul-mark, but now she’s afraid that she might love someone else, and be settling for him.”
“It’s not your fault if she does. Trust you,” Draco added, “to find new things to blame yourself for, once the Minister is out of power and you can’t blame yourself for not fighting him anymore.”
That at least wrenched Harry out of his martyrdom-trance. He jerked his head up and glared at Draco with what someone else might have mistaken as loathing. “You can’t even let me figure out if I should be worried about this.”
Draco shrugged and ate the last of his eggs, then looked meaningfully at the ones on Harry’s plate. Harry started to shove the plate over to him, glaring all the while. Draco sighed, looked up at the ceiling to be a witness to this, and pushed Harry’s food back to him. “You’re always going to be an inspiration to people because of what they’ve seen you do, and also what they think you can do. You can’t deny that. The only thing you can do is refuse to let them control your life.”
“I could give them good advice, too.”
“And do you think good advice always works out?” Draco demanded. “No. Then they would blame you more than ever.”
“But if I’ve made some people doubt their true love—”
“I sincerely doubt your friends will suddenly leave their spouses because there might be the faintest chance that their soul-marks didn’t tell them the person best-suited to them,” Draco snapped. “And anyone who can leave someone else they’ve built a life with just because you found me was mentally deficient in the first place.”
“Draco. Don’t call them that.”
“Now you’re demanding that I lie?”
Harry put his hand over his eyes. But at least he was sitting there and appeared to be thinking, instead of simply reacting. Draco stood up and fetched himself some more eggs, ready to snap again if Harry tried to whine and inveigle his sympathy.
Draco had time to make the eggs, sit down, and eat several of them before Harry looked up with a deep sigh and muttered, “I’m going to get more letters like this.”
“How could you stop them?”
A twitch of Harry’s shoulders was the only sign he’d heard. “And I have to figure out some way to respond to them that doesn’t leave me feeling guilty and useless at the same time. That helps no one.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“You.” Draco had thought Harry would go on pretending to ignore him, and so it was a shock, though hardly an unpleasant one, when Harry’s eyes focused directly on him. “Because you were the one who gave me permission to do all sorts of things, like live without a soul-mark in the wizarding world and fall in love with someone who had a different soulmate. I know it sounds like I take a long time to learn those lessons, but—thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Draco temperately. It was true that Harry’s little fit hadn’t lasted as long this time, but Draco was going to save his deeper emotions for when he saw Harry take action.
Like he did the next second, casually rippling the stone floor of Draco’s house to bring him quills and parchment on floating curls of rock. Then he sat down to begin scribbling an answer, his face so full of determination it seemed to spill out and lie on the table between them.
Draco cleaned up breakfast, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder whenever he passed him. Harry never looked up, but his shoulder always pressed firmly into Draco’s hand, and then relaxed as Draco let him go.
I am content.
*
The Floo flared late that evening, and Harry looked up with wary eyes. Draco frowned with him. There were few people who should be Flooing him at this hour, and Harry’s friends would have sent an owl, or a Patronus, or simply come over and banged on the door.
“Is it okay?”
Draco raised his hand in a silent order to wait, and then went to the Floo. He arranged his face in a pleasant expression as he made out the dark purple robes of a Wizengamot member, and bowed his head. “What can I do for you, Madam…?”
“Zelbrin.” The woman was one he didn’t know, but she had the name of a minor, respected family, the sort who worked for the Ministry all their live and got a small plaque at retirement. She also had shrewd dark eyes, and at the moment, that mattered to Draco more than her name. “Esmeralda Zelbrin. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the selection of the new Minister, Auror Malfoy?”
“You’ve made your decision, then?” Draco kept his voice pleasant, too.
“We have. Yvonne Vance.”
Draco blinked a little. Vance was a member of a family that had worked for the Ministry practically forever, and she had had relatives killed in both wars, from what Draco could remember. He didn’t know her personally, but he knew she had been an Auror, had worked desk jobs in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and now held some position in administration whose title he couldn’t remember.
“Why her?”
“She is inoffensive, accustomed to the workings of power, and won’t seek to change anything major, but guide the Ministry into a new era of peace and prosperity.”
She won’t challenge or change anything, Draco thought, and knew he had interpreted matters correctly. But that was no reason to disapprove of the Wizengamot’s choice. If nothing else, perhaps Harry could have some peace now, and lose whatever guilt he still had that the Ministry had no head now thanks to him. “She sounds a respectable choice.”
“Good.” Madam Zelbrin still hesitated, and a second later, Draco knew why.
“You want to talk to Harry.”
“If Mr. Potter is available, yes.”
Draco glanced at Harry, tilting his head in silent invitation, and reminder that Harry didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. Harry clenched his jaw, shrugged a little, and walked over to bend down in front of the Floo.
“Yes?”
“You’ve worked with Assistant Undersecretary Vance in the past, I’m told. What do you think of her?”
Harry’s nostrils flared, and Draco put a hand on the small of his back, where it wouldn’t be visible to Madam Zelbrin. Harry tilted his head in silent acknowledgement, although he kept his eyes fixed on the woman’s face in the flames. “I think she’s a fine choice.”
“No more than that?”
“What do you want me to say?” Harry’s voice was low and cold, but he was in control; not even the stones in the floor under his feet trembled. “I wanted Minister de Berenzan to act like a human being with the normal range of care for helpless infants, and that didn’t happen. I don’t think Vance is going to kill people like me. I don’t know her very well, outside those few training sessions I took with her years ago. What would satisfy you?”
Madam Zelbrin blinked and raised a hand to touch one of the large garnets hanging around her neck. Draco grinned viciously, and didn’t care if she saw him do it. Harry was pushing back against the people who demanded impossible things of him, including approving a Minister who, as he had said, he didn’t know that well and shouldn’t have to approve. If Madam Zelbrin tried anything else, including scolding Harry for something that should have been her job, she would get a nasty surprise.
Fortunately, she didn’t. She did clear her throat a time or two, and act as if she thought that would make Harry speak, but when it didn’t, she nodded and said, “Our choice of Vance is confirmed, then. You’re welcome to come hear her first speech.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, with a sweetness more cutting than any harshness. Draco bit back his chuckle as Madam Zelbrin hastily shut the Floo.
“You were magnificent,” Draco breathed against Harry’s neck, and reached out to skim his knuckles down his nape. “Much more effective when you don’t lose your temper than when you do.”
“I know. But losing my temper is more satisfying, in some ways.” Harry craned his head back, nuzzling at the side of Draco’s throat as if he knew how mad that drove him. Draco kissed his fingertips. “Then they at least know I’m upset with them.”
“But leaving them in uncertainty terrifies them more.”
Harry was silent for a second, breathing in such a way that Draco thought he might disagree. Then he laughed softly. “There’s that.”
Draco pulled him gently out of the room. He doubted Harry wanted to stand here discussing politics, and since Vance’s acceptance speech wouldn’t be for a few days, they had little to say to each other anyway. They might as well put their time to good use.
*
“Malfoy? Malfoy! I want to talk to you!”
Draco opened his eyes and shook his head a little. The sound wasn’t as clear as it would have been coming from the Floo, which must mean someone was standing outside his window and shouting at him. Good thing they hadn’t tried to come too close, Draco thought as he sat up, stretched, and threw a shirt and robes on, or the wards would have roasted them.
He followed the sound of the clamoring voice in a leisurely way towards the window that overlooked the front steps, and found himself staring when he looked out.
Rose Sheldon stood there, her face flushed and her hands trembling. Draco wondered in a detached sort of way if she was out of her potion again, or if she had forgotten to cast a Warming Charm against the chill of the morning.
“Malf—” Sheldon finally looked up and saw him. Her face flushed a brighter pink, and she stepped back and shook her head. “There you are.”
“Yes, here I am,” Draco said, and folded his arms on the windowsill, and said nothing else. Sheldon could speak her own piece about why she’d bothered to come here.
Sheldon acted for a short time as if she was going to pull the silent trick with him, but she finally gave in and drew her wand. Draco immediately moved to get the wards ready to exclude her if he had to. He certainly wasn’t about to wait for her to Stun him.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just—going to make my voice louder.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Draco leaned harder on the windowsill. “I can hear you from here.”
Sheldon closed her eyes and stood in silence for a time. Then she said, “I didn’t know you were my soulmate.”
“I knew you weren’t mine.”
For a moment, she stared up at him, and Draco, although he couldn’t see it from here, knew the exact way her eyelashes would be trembling in confusion. He had made quite a study of her before deciding there was no way of living with her, after all. “W-what do you mean? Of course we are. The marks we bear—”
“Forgive me. Perhaps I would have made a clearer impression if I said that I would not allow you to be mine.”
Sheldon swallowed. “I—see.”
“From the sound of it, you don’t. Even before I met Harry, I had rejected the notion that soulmates pointed to a romantic destiny. I did that by rejecting you.”
Sheldon shivered a little. “And I suppose I know what made me so objectionable to you.”
“Yes. Your habit.”
Sheldon looked away. “You never heard about why I fell into that habit.”
“Oh, yes, I did.” Draco moved his hand when she looked back at him. “It was one night when you’d stayed late at the Ministry because you hoped I might brew you another dose of your weakness. I asked, and you told me, and then I Obliviated you so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable around me and stop giving me information. It was a story that didn’t surprise me, you know. A story like anyone else’s. You wanted to do it, you started to do it, you found yourself unable to escape. Why would you think that something like that would impress me?”
“I—not impress you. Explain.” Sheldon’s voice was so low that Draco could barely hear her, and he had never heard her sound like that, either. She might have been Harry whispering, almost. “I didn’t know—I never saw your mark. Or you showed it to me and I don’t remember it because of your spell.”
“The latter.”
Sheldon closed her eyes.
“You weren’t impressed with me, either,” Draco added, and shook his head a little as he remembered Sheldon’s reaction. “More horrified than anything.”
“That doesn’t mean you have the right to—deprive me of my soulmate.”
“And you don’t have the right to pull me back when I’ve already chosen another path.” Draco heard Harry stirring behind him, and sighed. He had hoped Harry would either stay asleep or pretend to be, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with this. But he hoped even more that he could make Sheldon understand why this would foolish to pursue. He fixed his eyes on her. “I won’t come back.”
“Not—to make another go of it? Is it because of Potter?”
“It’s because of you. It always was. And I’ve already given you chances to make a go of it. If you’d ever shown a sign of wanting to break your addiction and compensate for your weakness, then I would have accepted you. But you didn’t. I’ve made my choice. Go make your own, if you can make it when you’ve avoided it so far.”
Sheldon stood there a second longer, and then dropped her head. She paced away looking like a broken-kneed Abraxan Draco had once seen at Gregory’s house. He grunted a little, and leaned back into Harry as he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist.
“Did you have to do that?” Harry whispered into his ear as they watched Sheldon Apparate. “Did you have to be that cruel?”
“Yes. To get her to leave us alone.”
Harry sighed a little, and then nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“You’re not angry at me?” Harry leaned his head on Draco’s back in response, and exhaled against his ear. From the feel of it, he was half-naked. Draco was glad that Sheldon had left before she could see this.
“No. I know what you did to her already, and I forgave you for it. It would be ridiculous to hold that against you, especially when this ended your exploitation of her.”
Draco bristled a little, but Sheldon truly wasn’t worth getting angry about. He reached his hand back and stroked Harry’s hair. “You would never have given up as easily as she did, would you? If you had a soul-mark and found out that I was yours, even if we still had all our past history between us and nothing else, you would have sought me out.”
There was a baffled silence from behind him, and then Harry said carefully, “Well, of course I would want to see if you would accept me. But I don’t have a soul-mark.”
“No. I was only comparing your strength to hers.” Draco twisted around in his hold and leaned his forehead against Harry’s. “And finding her wanting.”
Harry looked torn for a second, as if he thought that Draco was being cruel again, and then he smiled and looped his hands under Draco’s elbows and kissed him, seeming to accept the comparison as the compliment it was meant for. Draco held Harry’s cheeks in his hands as he kissed back, fiercely glad that Sheldon had been so weak.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t have Harry.
*
SP777: Draco isn't ready for that yet. Maybe in a few years.
Jester: Thank you! There's only one more chapter after this one, so I'm glad that you feel it's been wrapped up well.
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The Rising of the Stones