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Sanctum Sanctorum	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 28253 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Thirty-Five—In Decision

            “You don’t have to leave the Ministry if you don’t want to.”

            Harry didn’t look up at Ron as he spoke, instead focusing on the four small conjured beds in front of him. He had asked Adam if he was all right sharing his bedroom with the new children, and he had agreed at once. So Adam, Emery, Paulette—the girl with wandless magic—and Walter, the other little boy whom the magic had told Harry was going to be his, now lay asleep in the same room at Grimmauld Place. Harry hadn’t yet learned what power Walter had, but the shadowy cat that had appeared from nowhere and coiled up on top of his shoulders might be a clue.

            “Did you hear what I said, Harry? Once people know what was going on, there’s no way that they can condemn you. They might even think that you’re a hero for freeing those children.”

            Harry said nothing, but he did nod. The way that Ron spoke was the way that things might work out, if Harry had the patience for them and said the right thing at all times and was willing to work for months to reestablish his credibility. And that would take away from the time that he might spend with Draco and the children ahead, how he might get to know them and make up for any harm his actions might have caused them.

            The other children were home now, the ones who could go there. They remembered their last names, or their parents’ names, or the names of the towns they had been stolen from, or they had memories of their houses intense enough that Harry and Draco and Ron and Hermione could use them as Apparition coordinates. They would be shocked and scarred for a long time by what they had seen, Harry thought, but it was better for them to recover with their families. They had wanted to go home.

            And their families might be frustrated at the lack of answers, might want to know, but at least this way meant that they would have their children back, if not the answers. Harry found it hard to imagine the relief that would be.

            Or, maybe he didn’t, not now that he was a parent himself. He had known blinding relief when Adam climbed out of the Blood Bubble and straight into his arms, forgiving him for what Harry had put him through.

            “I don’t understand why you won’t at least try.”

            Harry sighed and turned to Ron. There was a plaintiveness behind the words that proved Ron understood what some of the problem was, and so Harry thought he deserved an answer. He motioned Ron out into the corridor before he replied, though, so that he could shut the door behind them and avoid disturbing the children.

            “Because I don’t want the kind of life that the Ministry would encourage me to devote myself to,” he said quietly, meeting Ron’s eyes. “The Dark Arts again. The relentless investigation. Barely any time to spend at home. The fighting against corruption, and Wizengamot members who would never forgive me for killing Schroeder—or for figuring out a way to dupe the guards and make them think that they were holding Harry Potter in prison all this time—and try to trip me up. No, Ron. I didn’t realize how much I wanted something different to do and think about until I started spending time with Draco and Adam. No. I want that different thing, now.”

            Ron shook his head. His face looked pale in the faint light that came up the stairs. Hermione and Draco were in the kitchen, and Harry reckoned they were either getting along well, or someone was dead by now. “But, mate, why? When did this happen? Just a few weeks ago, you were devoted to your work.”

            “Because I had nothing else,” Harry said simply. “That would be one thing if I had chosen to be, well, isolated and alone are the proper words for it. But I simply never looked elsewhere or tried to choose anything outside of that. And I want to choose it, Ron. I want to show the world, and myself, that Harry Potter has better things to spend his time on than merely Ministry politics.”

            “Our Auror jobs aren’t always politics,” Ron began.

            “But I’ll be involved in them as long as I live, if I go back, because of who I am,” Harry said. “And how many arrests did we lose because of corruption? How many times did we think that we had someone safely locked up and then he got out again because he was related to one of the Wizengamot members or someone higher up than we were on the Ministry hierarchy? No. I like being able to act without hesitation, because there’s a cause in front of me that commands my complete devotion. And the children need it, and I don’t think Draco will be willing to settle for less,” he added, with a faint smile.

            “That won’t be enough to content you forever,” Ron said. He took up a stance in front of Harry as though he was going to charge him, absurdly. Harry stared back at him, and Ron had the grace to lower his hands again and look a little embarrassed. “What—Harry, what are you going to do with yourself when the children are grown up? Or if you and Malfoy end up leaving each other?”

            “I don’t know yet,” Harry answered easily, and felt a strange happiness bubbling up in him, like champagne, when Ron stared at him and shook his head. “But I know what will happen if I go back to the Ministry. More bitching, more anger, more attempts to control me and sack me when I do something that the powers there don’t like. I’ve had enough of it. This is better, though. This way, I get to burn my credibility with them up in a blaze of glory for a worthy cause, instead of trying to murder some harmless flunkey who doesn’t really deserve it someday.”

            “And there’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind,” Ron whispered.

            “None.” Harry reached out and squeezed his friend’s shoulder kindly. “I know it’s not really fair to you, depriving you of your partner like this, and I’m sorry for that. But I think it’s for the best that I leave now. Like I said, it would only have been a matter of time until I had to leave. This is better,” he repeated.

            “Just tell me one thing,” Ron said, when he had closed his eyes and stood there with his head practically hanging down in despair for the few minutes it seemed to require. “Was it Malfoy who put you up to this?”

            “No,” Harry said quietly, and let his smile fade as he looked Ron in the eye. “I think I would have wanted to leave even if I hadn’t met him. He’s just an additional incentive, and he definitely is the one who made me see how many Dark Arts spells I was using, and why they were bad for me.”

            Ron nodded slowly. “So your decision is going to last even if he and you—even if you don’t last?” he asked.

            “Yes,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

            Ron swallowed, then said, “Don’t worry about me. They’ve been wanting to partner me with someone else for years, and some of the choices they’ve offered aren’t too bad. I want you to be happy, Harry, and it sounds like this way, you might be.” He shot a hand out and closed it convulsively down on Harry’s arm. “So long as you are, that’s all.”

            “I think I will be,” Harry said, and held Ron’s gaze, smiling, until he turned away and roughly wiped a hand over his eyes.

            “Good,” he said. “Now let’s go find out what Hermione and Malfoy are up to. I’m surprised that we haven’t had to dodge curses yet.”

*

            “You were the one who put Harry up to this.”

            Draco kept his eyes on the kettle, which he had volunteered to use even though the ridiculous house-elf wanted to do it, because it would give him a slight distraction from Granger’s accusations. He shook his head, and made sure the motion looked absent, idle, because he knew nothing would upset Granger more. “Me? Of course not. If I had my way, he wouldn’t have sacrificed his career like this. He would have done something subtle and vicious but not Dark, and made sure the Wizengamot knew everything their darling Schroeder was up to, and deprived Moonstone of the ability to ever finance any grab for power again while leaving his money intact. This accomplishes the goal, I must admit, but it lacks the flexibility and elegance that distinguish my projects.”

            In the silence that accompanied Granger’s half-strangled breathing, the kettle came to a boil. Draco Levitated it smoothly off the fire and over to the table waiting for it; by the time it landed, he had already performed all the other necessary charms to make the tea. He poured two cups, mismatched but a kind of expensive ivory that Draco couldn’t help but approve, and held one out to Granger.

            She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall, away from him, every cell of her body all but radiating loathing. “I don’t want to take anything from you,” she said violently.

            Draco nodded, and sipped his own tea, and smiled. “Then you shouldn’t want to whisk Harry away from me, either.”

            “You’re the reason that he did that,” Granger whispered. “That he murdered people in so many horrible ways. He didn’t act as though he cared. He kept us from participating in the battle, and then he murdered Schroeder, and he took Moonstone’s magic away, and he acted as though nothing mattered to him but winning…”

            “In battle with enemies like these, nothing should,” Draco interrupted her. “Let me say that I was impressed that Harry didn’t let his moral scruples stop him or slow him down when it came to winning. I thought he would, and that would have been fatal.”

            Granger closed her eyes and did some deep breathing for a moment. She was the first person Draco had ever seen who seemed inclined to believe that worked. He sipped his tea and smiled at her in fascination, shaking his head.

            “You,” Granger said, opening her eyes at last, “have a twisted sense of morality. You can’t see that the multiple murders that Harry has performed have been wrong? Perhaps you could convince me that he was right to kill Schroeder—although he should still have had a fair trial and let everyone else see the true extent of his evil—but the Healers? What if some of them genuinely didn’t know what they were doing?”

            “They tortured children,” Draco said, taking another sip and rolling the tea around in his mouth. “I’d say it’s pretty hard to mistake that for anything else.”

            “But they didn’t know the purpose,” Granger retorted harshly, folding her arms more tightly, as if she was cold. “They couldn’t. Schroeder and Moonstone didn’t share everything about Galen’s notes with them, or they would have clamored for power of their own and probably tried to backstab them.”

            Draco burst out laughing, and Granger bristled at him, but Draco didn’t really care about that. Honestly, Granger was brilliant in her contradictions and the messes and mistakes that she snared herself in without even realizing it. “So,” he said, when he regained control of himself and saw Granger staring at him like a cobra charmer trying to control his snakes, “you think them evil and ruthless enough to desire power, but somehow innocent enough not to torture children?”

            Granger coiled into herself a little more. “I work with people who are ruthless and power-hungry every day,” she snapped. “None of them are torturers.”

            “I think you would be surprised,” Draco murmured peacefully. “But in a way, what you are saying makes the Healers worse, if they didn’t know why Schroeder and Moonstone were ordering them to torture these children, and went along with it anyway. The most deep-seated belief in power and the inferiority of Mudbloods—”

            Granger tried to cast at him. Draco raised a shimmering shield of flame in front of him; he had been working out how Harry did it in his head all evening, and now he was ready. It burned Granger’s curse to harmless sparks and left her staring at him with narrowed eyes.

            “My pardon,” Draco said, and then went on, because Granger wasn’t in the position to stop him. “As I was saying, those beliefs are preferable to me because it means that the person who holds them acts out of a certain kind of principle, and you can trust them to do one thing and not others. But if they did what they did for money, or because their superiors ordered them to, and never questioned it? That makes them criminals, Granger. Villains, of the kind that I would shudder to own as comrades. I am glad they are dead. I am glad they are gone. And with them goes the knowledge of what happened with Galen’s notes, I think, and that means that no one else should try the same thing any time soon.”

            “Moonstone might,” Granger muttered, and wound her arms tighter around herself still. “Harry said that he didn’t think any Memory Charm would take on him, and that means someone else will dig out what he was up to sooner or later.”

            Draco raised his eyebrows at her. “And what makes you think that Moonstone will be allowed to go back to the wizarding world?”

            Granger paled more than he had seen her do yet, and he was honestly a bit impressed that she was still on her feet instead of swooning on the floor. “Harry wouldn’t kill him,” she whispered. “Not the helpless Muggle that he’s made of him.”

            Draco shrugged. “Perhaps not.” He had the feeling that Harry’s taste for killing had been more than satisfied—but then, he also doubted that Harry had a taste for killing at all, in the way that Granger and Weasley thought he did. The soft, subdued thoughts in the back of Draco’s head argued for that, at least. “But it’s true that he really has nothing else that he can do with him, except Obliviate him and exile him to the Muggle world. A fitting fate for one who hated Muggles so much. If he never comes into contact with someone who knows who he is again—and a deep glamour will take care of that, one anchored at the level of the skin—then there is no one who will know how to lift it.”

            “A glamour can’t do that,” Granger interrupted, her interest in spell theory lifting her past her moral objections.

            Draco gave her an amused glance. “Ordinarily, no. But do you think Harry’s magic incapable of it?”

            Granger closed her eyes and touched her forehead between her eyes with two fingers, as if trying to close a third eye that had opened there. “I don’t want to,” she whispered. “But it seems that I may have to acknowledge that it is.”

            Draco cocked his head. “What’s wrong with his magic being powerful enough to do that?”

            “It would mean that he’s using his strength like he did when he killed,” Granger said simply, opening her eyes and looking at him again. For all that, Draco didn’t think she was seeing him. “Not restraining it, just pouring it out on the world, and that—that’s something I don’t want to see him do.”

            Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “You make no sense, Granger. What would you have preferred that he do? Just let the children suffer? Tried to negotiate with people who weren’t interested in that, at all? You weren’t there when he interrogated Moonstone. I was. There was no way that he could have forged a peace treaty with people like that.”

            “I wasn’t thinking about a peace treaty,” Granger whispered, and her fingers went back to that third eye that seemed to be giving her trouble. “But there must have been something else he could have done.”

            “Why?” Draco demanded, and felt a roil from the back of his mind that indicated Harry had noticed his agitated thoughts. Well, he might come downstairs if he wanted. Draco was coming increasingly to think that he and Granger had nothing to say to each other, any more than Harry and Moonstone had had. “Why do you fear Harry having this power so much? If there’s anyone you can trust with supreme power, I think it’s your perfectly good and loyal and trusting Gryffindor friend, isn’t it? Unless you have reason to suspect that he would do something wrong with it, of course.”

            “And he did.” Granger bowed her head again. “He killed people. He tortured them. He took magic. He did good things with it, too,” she added hastily, as Draco opened his mouth. “But he did so much evil along the way…I can’t be easy with that.”

            Draco turned his head away. He thought he could see the problem. Granger was coping with a number of shocks to the system, among them that her precious friend was capable of acting in a way that she disapproved of. If she had some distance from him, some time to think about it and see how ridiculous she was being, then she would probably get over it. She already spoke of taking Moonstone’s magic as a lesser crime than the rest, although earlier she had seemed willing to forsake Harry over that alone.

            Luckily, she would get plenty of time and distance, if Draco had any say—and if the intentions he could feel rippling in the back of Harry’s mind came to fruition.

            He turned around as Weasley and Harry walked into the room. Granger looked up and gave them both a smile. Harry lingered in the doorway instead of going immediately to Draco the way Weasley went to her, whispering into her hair and hugging her around the waist with one arm. Harry looked as if he wanted another smile from Granger, or at least to judge how meaningful her smiles to him were.

            Draco settled the issue by stepping in front of him and asking quietly, “What do you mean to do with Moonstone?”

            Harry’s eyes immediately fixed on him. It was most gratifying, Draco thought, and raised a hand to rest on Harry’s cheek before he thought about it. Harry let his eyes flutter shut and sighed. Take that, Draco heard, directed at Harry’s friends, and he honestly wasn’t sure which one of them had thought it.

            “I’m going to Obliviate him,” Harry said as quietly in return. “Yeah, it wouldn’t have worked if he was going to be a wizard, but he won’t. I’ll destroy his magic and keep it from going back to him that way. It’s too dangerous for him to run into some of his friends—there might be other people who weren’t obvious to us involved in this—and to gain his memory and his power back.”

            “There’s no way to destroy someone’s magic forever,” Weasley said. Draco thought that was interesting; perhaps Granger had exhausted herself in the argument with Draco. “We all know that. There’s nothing you can do that will keep it from manifesting.”

            “Yes, that’s what you would think,” Harry said, without any rancor in his tone. “But there isn’t a way to make something as invulnerable as the Blood Bubble, either, according to conventional magical theory. I’ll come up with something.”

            Draco shifted. “I may be able to,” he said.

            Harry glanced at him, quick-smiling and with the rivers in the back of his mind singing, Always knew it. “What is it?” he asked.

            “I was thinking during the battle,” Draco said, staring back at him and demanding all the attention in the room. He might get less than his share from Granger and Weasley, but Harry’s shining eyes more than made up for that lack. “After all, now I’m subject to a prophecy just like you were. And you told me of some interesting ways that you made being the subject of one work for you, with respect to the Blood Bubble. Why can’t I make the magic work for me the same way, but in another direction?”

            Harry leaned forwards and kissed him. Draco wound his hands into Harry’s hair in response and held him there, kissing back and making sure that their tongues intertwined. Harry pulled away, shaking his head and grinning.

            “You’re brilliant,” he said.

            Which was more than enough explanation for the kiss, if it had needed one in the first place. Draco hummed under his breath and turned to face Harry’s friends, leaning against Harry not because he needed the support, but because he wanted it, welcomed it.

            Granger was staring at them. Weasley had a faint smile of understanding on his face.

            “You’re going, then,” he said. “You’re both going.”

            Draco nodded. It was true that Harry hadn’t formally asked him yet, any more than he had formally asked if Draco really wanted to adopt these four children, but he couldn’t conceive of refusing now. And he had already accepted that he was the subject of a prophecy. It was really his acceptance of the facts that was the most important thing, not what anyone else thought about it.

            “I wish you luck,” Weasley said, and cleared his throat, glancing at his wife.

            Granger mustered a deep breath that seemed to come from the bottom of her stomach, and then she nodded. “Yes,” she murmured. “I know that—I know that you have to do what’s best for you. I just wish—oh, Harry.” And she stood up and flew across the room to catch Harry up in her arms, rudely displacing Draco.

            Draco stepped aside and tried not to bristle. The way he saw it, Granger had to know that Harry wasn’t really all that interested in her good opinion. He and Harry were the ones who had the mental connection to each other, the promise, the experience fighting beside each other in battle.

            They were the ones who had the future.

            Harry met his eyes over Granger’s head as she sobbed on his shoulder, and nodded slightly, smiling. Then he bent down and began to murmur into Granger’s ear, telling her the truth, that he never would have done something so awful if the cause hadn’t been so good.

            Draco leaned against the wall and half-closed his eyes.

            Eventually, he thought, Granger would accept that, and Harry would have his friends again. And these children he wanted to protect, and a life that might give him more chance of using any magic he wanted to instead of tripping him up with Ministry politics.

            And Draco.

            Draco didn’t have to fool himself about what the greatest prize in all of that was.

*

            SP777: No, just thought it through and decided that was the climax I wanted! I'm glad you liked it.

            unneeded: That's the kind of thing Harry will try to do, teach Adam and Emery to read English if they can't speak it.

            polka dot: She's had a bad series of shocks. Among other things, she's seen Harry do things she thought he would never do. I think that's liable to make anyone whine in sheer self-protection.

            moodysavage: Thanks! Draco is Harry's anchor, and maybe now they'll get the chance to be each other's.

            LeaniaSTL: Thank you! The biggest part of this is that Harry shouldn't have to kill anyone else if he really retires from Auror work and no one else tries to threaten him or the children or Draco in the same way again.

            Sablesilverrain: Sorry it wasn't a quick update! I hope you enjoy it anyway.

            And thank you for the compliment!

            :D, thank you for the review! I hope you enjoy the last few chapters; there's only one more after this one.
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