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An Image of Lethe	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21751 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty-Five—Smoke and Mirrors
            “I have a way to herd the Light wizards you wanted into one place at a designated time, my lord.”
            Arsinoe Rosier was the one who made that little announcement, kneeling before Harry with her eyes on the floor and the vigilant snake a short distance from her. Harry watched the sleek line of her back and decided that her smugness was nearing the dangerous level, although she hadn’t made a move to physically attack him yet.
            Especially since Rosier had chosen to make that announcement in front of all the other Death Eaters, who jerked straight and muttered to each other loudly enough to wake up the dozing jeweled dragon. At least the dragon was conscientious enough to stretch its jaws wide in a yawn that showed off its fangs. Some of the chattering shut up when Harry’s audience noticed that.
            “Do you?” Harry lounged back in his throne, letting one hand dangle to scratch the dragon behind the neck, and ignoring its pained gaze. “Then explain to me what it is. I am eager to hear it.”
            He made his voice as much of a hiss as he could on those last words without sibilants, and Rosier flinched in a satisfactory way as she rose to her feet. A moment later, Harry wanted to flinch the same way.
            Why do I have to think like this? What happens if I start liking it too much?
            But that worry wasn’t new, and so far he didn’t like it, and he had Draco to keep him sane if nothing else. Harry kept his gaze on Rosier, and waited.
            “My Lord.” Rosier was speaking a little quicker now, casting glances at the dragon from time to time. Harry wondered if it might be amusing to spread the word that the dragon got hungry at certain times of the day. “No one else would dare impersonate you, or so the Light wizards will think.”
            “Impersonate me as myself?” Harry tugged the dragon onto the arm of his throne and stood it upright. The dragon yawned again, another flicker of the forked tongue, and a corresponding swaying-back in the first row of Death Eaters—for everyone other than Fenrir Greyback, who Harry was starting to think he couldn’t dent. He only watched with adoring eyes. “Or impersonate me as the one I was?”
            Rosier’s face was flushed, but she stood her ground. Brave and clever, just the way that Draco had warned him she was. Harry did think it was a pity that she had to be on the wrong side.
            “The one you were, my Lord.” Rosier dipped her head and continued in a whisper, although one that would still be audible to the other Death Eaters. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors while I was abroad, my Lord. Ones that say the person you used to be was an asset. Someone people wanted to follow. Some of them are starting to doubt that he was ever Dark. If you could appear and announce that you are back to your old self, that you were never Dark or that you have a way to return to the Light…”
            Well done, Harry silently congratulated her. He had been trying to come up with some excuse that would get him into the front lines with the reverse Lightfinder, and here Rosier had just handed him one.
            He pretended to consider, then nodded. “That would work. Well done, Rosier.” This time, it was her turn to preen while the rest glared.
            “My Lord!”
            And, of course, one of them just barely helps me when another one decides to be a problem, Harry thought wearily, and turned around to glare at Greyback sprawled on his belly in front of the throne. “What isss it, Fenrir?”
            Not even the extra emphasis on the hiss of the word seemed to deter Greyback, who didn’t lift his head. “My Lord,” he whispered pleadingly. “Must you risk your glorious self? Could you not send someone under a glamour?”
            “Could anyone else imitate his magic?” Rosier interrupted before Harry could say anything. “His sheer presence? You have an odd idea of what’s impressive, Fenrir.”
            Greyback still didn’t get up, or look at Rosier. His eyes were aimed firmly downwards at the floor. Or maybe he was looking at Harry’s feet. Harry had the upsetting idea that he was. “I only say the right thing,” he whispered. “The reasonable thing. My Lord. If you won’t listen to me, please at least take all of us with you.”
            “How could he do that?” Rosier interrupted, this time before Harry could even decide what he wanted to say. “How could he get close and convince the rest of the Light wizards that he was Light again if he was surrounded by an honor guard of Death Eaters?” She laughed scornfully, and reached out as if she would tap one finger on Greyback’s skull. “Sometimes you have the strangest ideas, Fenrir. Our Lord wanted ideas that would work, and—”
            “Hold, Arsinoe.”
            Harry deliberately said it in Parseltongue, knowing what the reactions would be even though they couldn’t understand. Sure enough, Rosier’s hand froze in mid-reach, and she gave him a blank look that quickly turned to shivering fear when Harry glared at her. The snake by her ankle rose up and looked at Harry.
            “No,” Harry hissed, also in Parseltongue, and the snake dropped its head somewhat sulkily back down. Harry rose from his throne, the dragon on his arm. It had at least woken up enough to take an interest in the proceedings, and was arching its neck from side to side, eyes bright and shining at everyone.
            “Listen to me,” said Harry, and he was careful to look mostly at Rosier as he spoke. He would have looked at Greyback, but there was nowhere to make eye contact; Greyback still had his face buried in the floor. “Where does your greatest loyalty lie?”
            Rosier hesitated as if she thought it was a trick question, and Harry slammed his fist into the arm of the throne. “Where?”
            Rosier shivered, and bowed her head. “With you, my Lord,” she whispered. “Always.” There was a hurried murmur of voices, confirming the same thing.
            “With me,” said Harry, and came a few steps down from the throne. His wand was in his hand now, feeling like part of him. More of the Death Eaters watched that than watched his face. Well, from what Harry had remembered, Voldemort would fry some of them for daring to establish eye contact. “Not with your own ideas, no matter how clever. Not with your squabbles and political power.”
            He came right up to Rosier, and reached out to slide a nail down her throat. Rosier’s eyes were wide now. Harry didn’t know if fear was the only emotion making them look that way, since after all she was clever and might be able to figure out the same truth Lucius had.
            But he intended to dazzle her enough that that was the last thing on her mind. “Do you know why you are valuable to me, Rosier?” he whispered, as if intimately, but he knew all the Death Eaters would be straining to listen.
            “No, my Lord.” Rosier would have shut her eyes, but Harry hissed at her when her eyelids quivered, and she seemed to get the idea.
            “Because you have a mind, and can use it.” Harry stepped back from her and stared at Greyback for a moment as if he was dismissing her. Then he snapped his gaze back at her the minute Rosier started to shift her weight in relief. “Sometimes.”
            Rosier understood the rebuke that Harry would probably have had to outline for someone like Greyback. She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”
            “Good,” said Harry, and turned to Greyback, letting his voice become soft and almost pitying. “An honor guard would be a good idea, my faithful Fenrir. But such a thing must not happen, lest it break the deception.”
            Greyback pushed his face further into the floor, and whispered, “Then let me go with you, my Lord. Use whatever glamours you have to. Whatever magic! But you have to do something. You can’t go unprotected. No matter what some people would like.” He looked up with narrow eyes at Rosier, and then pushed himself up on his hands and pointed one claw-like finger at her as if there was a chance that someone would misunderstand what he meant.
            Rosier stiffened and gave her head a little toss. “Are you accusing me?”
            “Yes,” said Greyback, and showed his teeth in a way that seemed to mean throat-tearing would be imminent. “Since you suggested sending our Lord into danger.”
            Harry started laughing. The dragon stood up on his arm and spread its wings, giving him a direct and delighted glance, as if to tell him that this was the sort of thing it could get behind.
            “My test is passed,” he said. “By both of you.”
            They turned and gaped at him, and Harry drew his wand and stepped up to Rosier. She still stiffened and tried to flinch away, and Harry laughed aloud while internally, he felt a little sick. On the other hand, this would keep him from having to torture anyone. And she wouldn’t show him any pity if their roles were reversed.
            “I wanted to see who was loyal to me.” Harry glanced around at the other Death Eaters, all of whom, except Draco, Astoria, and Parkinson, flinched and straightened. “Who would recommend an excellent plan, and put their brain to work for me in all ways and all things, and who would want to save my life should I come within even the shadow of danger.” He gave a simpering smile and patted Greyback on the head. Greyback, of course, only looked as though he was about to die of bliss.
            Harry turned and pointed at Rosier. “I grant you another boon. Speculum animae.”
            The mirror that shimmered into being in his hand, he turned around and ceremoniously presented to Rosier. Rosier knelt at once. “Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered.
            Harry nodded, satisfied by her recognition of the spell. It created a mirror that would reflect visions of the future that showed great dangers to the owner. But the dangers were rarely physical, unless they valued their physical safety above all. Instead, those scenarios were the ones that would destroy their soul—their honor, or their sanity, or whatever else they held as the most important feature of their soul.
            At least, the mirrors supposedly did that. Harry had run across the spell when he was doing his research on reverse Lightfinders and spells that “showed the soul,” and he knew more about what it was actually supposed to do.
            “Good,” he said, and turned abruptly away from Rosier to stare at the rest of his followers. “You, and you,” he said, pointing more or less randomly. “And you, and you, and you.” This time, he made sure he chose out Draco and Astoria among the others. “Come with me. I have instructions for you.”
            He swept out of the room, ignoring the bows that everyone made. He would have had to pay attention if someone didn’t bow, but that wasn’t likely right now. Greyback pranced at his heels for a bit, even though he hadn’t been one of those Harry invited, until Harry turned around and looked at him. Greyback promptly whimpered and lowered his head, backing away while bowing frantically, until Harry snorted and dismissed him with a flip of his hand.
            He took his “chosen ones” to the library, and began to outline the first versions of his massive distraction, ignoring the moment when Draco caught onto what was happening and his eyes began to widen. Yes, Harry would talk to him about it, but now really wasn’t the moment.
            Despite the way Draco’s eyes hardened and glistened. Harry would talk to him, yes, but later.
*
            Draco was content to wait until he and Harry could be alone, but only barely content. When Harry had finished detailing the illusions that he wanted Draco, Astoria, and the others to use, and explained with painstaking “care” why the illusions should be positioned the way they were and why they would distract the Ministry, he stayed behind. Harry showed them out the door, and then turned towards Draco.
            Draco, though, lost his composure when he saw the strained flush on Harry’s cheeks, and the impulsive way he held his hands out. Draco went into his grip and leaned against him, holding onto him, without a second thought.
            “Just stay with me,” Harry whispered. “You don’t need to say anything.” He gave a muffled chuckle against Draco’s shoulder. “In fact, I would prefer you didn’t, given what it’s probably going to be.”
            Draco clenched his hands down, and said nothing, because it seemed redundant to him to do it. But his chest ached, and he wanted to snap something, and he had to hold his mouth shut, and.
            And.
            “Is it really the best choice, to put yourself in danger, no matter how many people are going with you and how many illusions there are?” Draco whispered. He could confine it to a whisper against Harry’s shoulder, and that would lessen the impact that his words would have, the chance that they might hurt Harry. He thought, anyway. “I know what you’re going to say, but hear me out.”
            Harry’s shoulders had tensed, but they loosened again, and Draco went on whispering feverishly into his ear. “Listen. Listen. You gave my father back to me. You can deliver the Death Eaters on a silver platter to the Ministry. You could do that, and we could go away, you and I and my parents.”
            Harry pulled back long enough to give him a bewildered look. “Do you really think your parents will accept me being your lover?”
            Draco laughed shakily and rested his forehead against Harry’s collarbone, this time. Harry could still hear him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, we could all leave, and then you and I could go somewhere.”
            “Away from Britain? Away from the world that you wanted to fight for your right to be in?” Harry tenderly captured Draco’s chin and shook his head for him. “I don’t think that’s what you came to me to try and fight for. And what about Pansy and Astoria?”
            Draco froze. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten them, even for a moment.
            But it would be no trouble to add two more people to their escape plan. And he knew his mother would shelter Pansy and Astoria without asking for anything, especially since Pansy had been his friend and Astoria his betrothed. He opened his mouth to say so.
            Harry continued whispering. “I know you would say that you didn’t start this fight for all Dark wizards, that that part was only something that sounded good and would make you seem less selfish. You started this fight for your own reasons, and you used the ones that would make you sound good. You care most about the people close to you.”
            Draco pulled back a little. “Anyone who says they don’t is a hypocrite.” Or a Gryffindor, he wanted to add, but that sentence had become a little awkward since he’d taken Harry Potter as his lover.
            Or even his friend. If he hadn’t thought Harry could fight for people who weren’t close to him, then Draco would have found someone else to help him.
            Harry nodded gently, his eyes on Draco’s. “But it was our plan that destroyed the Lightfinder, and condemned so many people to madness. I have to put that right, if I can.”
            Draco writhed. Then he snapped out the words he couldn’t control. “What makes you think you have to? I was the one who recruited Blaise and decided on most of that plan. Why is it you and not me?”
            “Because I have the ability to do it.”
            Draco drew back, offended, but Harry caught his glance and shook his head with a slight sigh. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Draco. I have the ability to do it, and that means I should. I can do it more safely than you.”
            Draco mused for a few minutes, then shrugged. He supposed that Harry should, if only because he simply couldn’t muster up the same amount of caring for those Light wizards that Harry could. They would have been glad to condemn Harry to death or worse for the sake of not fitting their preconceptions.
            He did have another question, though.
            “And what happens if it doesn’t work?” Draco asked, then sighed and shook his head when Harry studied him with anxious eyes. “What if you don’t manage to convince your friends or the Light wizards or the Ministry that you’re innocent, and that you were really on the side of good all along? Or if some people get killed in this?”
            “If they get killed, then I’ll never forgive myself, and probably spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”
            Draco hissed a little. “I don’t want to be in love with a martyr.”
            “It’s only martyrdom if I die from it.”
            Draco rolled his eyes. “You didn’t answer what’s going to happen if they don’t accept you back, or believe that you’re innocent.”
            Harry pulled back enough to run one finger along Draco’s collarbone. “There are methods to convince people that I’m telling the truth, however little real criminals want to use them. There are such things as Veritaserum and Pensieves.”
            “They wouldn’t have believed you before, even if you did talk about it under Veritaserum. Their panic against Dark wizards was that deeply ingrained,” Draco said, but he muttered the words, and he could see, even from the gentle, bright look in Harry’s eyes, that he was failing. Harry wanted to believe in people’s essential truth and goodness, and he would give them chance after chance to try and make things up to him.
            “You know that was in part because of the Lightfinder,” Harry said quietly. “I’m going to use the reverse one to set their minds free, and then let them make their own choices.”
            “Let’s say they do that,” said Draco, partially because he was determined to drive Harry to the point of answering his question. “And they still decide that they can’t like what you’ve done, and want to exile you and drive you away and all that rot. What would you do then?”
            Harry looked at his hands. Then he looked back up and murmured, “Then I come with you.”
            Draco hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that, despite his determination, until Harry spoke the words. Then he held him, and felt as if he would do anything to take back that reluctant admission.
            “I don’t want you to have to do that,” he said. “I want you to have what you want, and your friends to welcome you back with open arms, and the Ministry to apologize.”
            Harry kissed him on the cheek. “I know. But there’s the chance that something is open for me if I do have to run off with you, and I need to thank you for pushing me to consider that possibility.” He pulled back and looked at Draco, and his eyes were bright and soft. “And for being there for me.”
            Draco had some ideas about what would follow a declaration like that, but apparently not the same ones that Harry did. Because Harry was on his knees and pulling at Draco’s trousers before Draco had the slightest notion what was happening.
            And then Harry had Draco’s cock in his mouth, and Draco had to fumble backwards for a table. There was no table there, though, only a chair, and then his arse slammed into it and he gasped loudly enough that he was afraid someone would try to knock down the door to find out what was wrong.
            Harry had either already put the spells on the door, or just didn’t care. Draco hardly had time to stop him and ask. Harry was sucking hard enough that Draco thought he was probably going to hurt his throat. His eyes were closed, and he paused now and then to inhale as if he needed more of Draco’s scent.
            Or just air. Draco wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about anything right now, except that his hands were holding onto something that wasn’t soft enough to be Harry’s hair. He clutched it and swayed.
            The pleasure was one long-drawn bolt this time, whirring through him from his feet to his ears. Draco dropped his head back against the chair and had to close his eyes. His nose ached, for some reason. He reached up and found his face smeared with what were probably tears.
            Well, he hoped they were tears.
            He opened his eyes in time to see Harry rise to his feet, working himself so hard that it then looked as if he would hurt his hand. Well, it would match his throat and Draco’s nose, Draco thought muzzily. He reached out to help, but the minute he touched Harry’s hand, Harry jerked hard and came over their interlocked fingers.
            “That was—fast,” was all Draco could say, his voice dazed with contentment.
            Harry nodded and moved forwards, his face unusually serious. Draco blinked, a little offended. Who gave someone a blowjob like that and didn’t feel calm and happy at the end of it?
            Harry gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes for a second. Then he whispered, “Yes. If the Ministry and Ron and Hermione and—and the rest of them don’t turn out to be accepting even though I’m doing my best to heal their madness and get back to them, then I’ll come with you.”
            The wave of happiness was at least as intense as the pleasure, and overwhelmed him the same way. Draco took Harry into his arms, murmuring praise. Harry let his head droop, slumping over Draco’s shoulder. Draco rubbed his back and asked, “And you’ll be careful, when you take the reverse Lightfinder in front of that crowd?”
            “Yes,” said Harry. His breath came out in a misty exhalation over Draco’s back. “And—well, I’ll have to be careful, won’t I, since I’ll pretend that I’ve come to them to surrender.”
            Draco blinked, and his hands tightened on Harry’s back. “I don’t think that was part of Rosier’s plan.”
            “I never intended to use her plan exactly as she suggested it.”
            “Let me come with you, then,” Draco whispered, his own mind developing the plan as he spoke. “Pretend that you’ve captured me and dragged me with you. I can pretend to struggle and try to get away. I can say all the right things that should convince them you’re fighting against the shard of the Dark Lord’s soul and winning.”
            Harry tensed hard enough that Draco thought he was going to refuse. But in the end, Harry whispered, “All right.”
            This is the way it should be, Draco thought, tightening his hold on Harry. Sharing equal danger, equal chances. Together.
            And I’m going to warn my mother what’s going on, so she can come up with a plan of her own to get us out of there if necessary.
            I’m not going to lose him.
*
ChaosLady: Thank you!
moon: Thanks. I think it’s getting better now, but I am still posting chapters late (like this one) because of it.
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An Image of Lethe