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The Marriage of True Minds	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 55082 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven--Through the Same Wars

            Draco glanced up when the door to Harry's room opened, ready to speak an admonition to Harry's friends to be quiet. He understood that they would want to visit him, but really, he needed rest and the presence of his spouse.

            That last wasn't bragging. The Healers had discovered, when they tried to chase Draco away from Harry's bedside, that Harry started muttering and tossing in his sleep, sounding sad and lost and distracted. The moment he could feel Draco's hand resting on his, or the presence of Draco's ring, then he would relax and smile, laying his head down as he drifted further into dreams.

            But the one who entered the room was his mother. Draco surged to his feet, then remembered the need to keep contact with Harry and sat back down, but he was making her as welcome as he could with his eyes.

            His mother saw him and knew it. She smiled as she kissed his cheek and sat down in another chair that appeared from nowhere; Draco thought a Healer might have pushed it into the room behind her or she might have Transfigured it. He didn't care. His whole mind was focused on the brightness of her eyes, and the warrior-like set of her mouth.

            "What is it?" he asked. "Has something else happened? Did they lose the woman they captured?" That was the only thing he could imagine that would make his mother look like that, at least once she'd had time to hear about the news of the attack on Harry and that they had both survived.

            "This cannot go on," Narcissa said quietly, looking at Harry asleep in the bed. Her hands clenched in her lap.

            Draco thought he understood, then, and fell silent. His mother's air enforced a general belief that she didn't want anyone to speak right now.

            "He has nearly died," Narcissa said, "three times in the last three weeks. That--is too much. We must find a way to keep him safe."

            "I think he will be, now," Draco said. "They took a woman who seems to know a lot about these decay wizards. And the Aurors want Harry safe, too. They'll make sure she talks." He thought of Weasley's eyes and shuddered a bit. He wasn't sure that he'd want to sit in on that interrogation.

            These fools might imagine that Dark magic does the most damage to someone else, but Light spells wielded by Light wizards determined to get at the truth could hurt, too.

            "That is not enough," Narcissa said. "The world seems conspiring to destroy him, and I will not let anyone destroy a member of our family."

            Draco blinked, then said gently, "Seems to conspire, Mother. That doesn't mean that anyone except the decay wizards and perhaps some of the reporters actually want to destroy him. Even Pansy probably thought that I really didn't want to stay married to him, and she would provide me with a convenient out." His hands clenched as he thought about it. He could understand Pansy's motivations, but he couldn't excuse them, and soon she would find out exactly how angry Draco was about what she'd done.

            "We must find a way to keep him safe, whether the conspiracy is real or not," his mother said, with a calm disregard of what he had said so far. She folded her hands in her lap and gave Harry a searching look, as if she could see into his soul. "I would suggest moving him into the Manor and advising him to take a holiday off work, but that is not something he would agree to."

            Draco shook his head with weary amusement. "No matter how much sense it would make. Especially not now that they have a real lead on his case." He reached out and let his hand glance off his mother's shoulder. "He's survived, Mother. So far. And closing this case and arresting the wizards responsible will help enormously."

            "But it is not the only thing needed to keep him safe." Narcissa looked meditative now. "Considering the way that Pansy fed photographs to the paper concerning him, and the paper lapped it up."

            Draco nodded. He could admit that that had angered him. "But you've poured the potion into Pansy's tea by now?"

            Narcissa nodded back. "It was in powdered form in the tea I sent her, with the letter in which I hinted that I had her to thank for driving Harry out of the family, something I implied I had wished since the first day he married you." Draco smirked. Precisely because Pansy wanted to think she had done Draco a favor by freeing him of this "unwanted" marriage, she would read a favorable meaning from his mother's ambiguous wording. "Even if she did not drink the tea directly, only touched the letter, she will be itching by now, in many--intimate places. And the potion will progress onto the second stage in two days."

            The second stage would mean a foul-smelling and painful venereal disease. Draco didn't think it too great a punishment for Pansy. "So that is handled."

            "I want to make it impossible for anyone to ever do this again," his mother said, eyes fastened on Harry's gently rising and falling chest. "I want to show them that Harry is a Malfoy, and not to be trifled with."

            "Then come up with a method that you think will keep him safe, and we'll discuss it together," Draco said, with a subtle squeeze of Harry's hand that he knew his mother wouldn't miss. "After what's happened with him so far, I don't want to do something that he doesn't know about."

            "You're a good husband, Draco," his mother said, with a distant look in her eyes that made Draco suspect she was thinking of Lucius. She rose now, kissed him gently on the cheek, and departed in the direction of the hospital entrance.

            Draco turned and watched Harry again. His face was pointed towards Draco, as it usually was, and the calm, reassuring sound of his breathing never faltered. The Healers had told Draco that there was still an hour or so, after their arrival in hospital, when they might have lost him. He was out of danger now.

            But he had been in it. And Draco suspected that he would always be in some senses, even if all the decay wizards were caught and captured. There would be people who remembered what Harry Potter had done before he was Harry Malfoy, people who wanted to destroy him for that, or fight him, or get revenge on him, or hurt him to see him squirm. Draco didn't yet know why the decay wizards had made him a target, but he suspected that it would come down to one of those reasons.

            He needed the protection of a proper, proud, powerful family, and the lie they'd spread in the first place when they wanted to excuse the marriage--that Harry wanted the privacy and security to be found behind Malfoy wards--would quite possibly need to be the truth.

            Draco squeezed Harry's hand. He had meant what he told his mother. He would do nothing without Harry's knowledge. He would ask his permission before he took huge steps. He would make sure that Harry was well before he broached any extraordinary changes in their relationship, anyway.

            But he was going to ask Harry to put off the ritual for a while, and to stop thinking of breaking the marriage bond for a time. How could Draco let him go when he knew that doing so would put him in danger?

*

            Harry was awake, and well, and well-fed, and that meant it was time for what he privately termed his Annual Disagreement With Healers. He sat up in bed and smiled at the mediwitch who hovered over him. She seemed to have taken on a sterner tone because Draco was out of the room for the moment, getting something to eat. Did she think that Harry would be easier to convince than he would? Ha.

            "I can go back to work," Harry stated, his opening salvo. "You said yourself that I have no ill effects from taking my husband's blood into me, and my chest isn't suddenly going to burst open and ruin all your efforts."

            "You are still weak," said the mediwitch, reading, Harry was sure, from a mental book. Anyone who looked at him would see that he wasn't weak. "You need more food, more rest."

            Harry rolled his eyes. "And you really think that my devoted husband, who waited by my bed so often that you got used to him, would let me suffer on that score? His Manor is full of food and, well, soft fluffy beds." No need to tell her that he wouldn't be using any of them until tomorrow.

            The mediwitch hesitated and glanced over her shoulder, as though hoping that more senior Healers would show up to rescue her. Harry felt a little sorry for her, but not much. After all, if the Healers had only been interested in really estimating the state of someone's health, they would notice that he had plenty of roses in his cheeks and that he'd slept most of the last day. And he'd had all the appropriate Healing potions, too. There was no reason to keep him here.

            "I suppose," the mediwitch said at last, speaking so reluctantly that Harry heroically held back the resolve to snicker, "that you can go home if you really think you can handle the change."

            "Thank you," Harry said, and then waited, smiling, at her until she took the hint and scurried out of the room, still staring at him over her shoulder. Harry reached for his clothes with a sigh.

            "Where are you going?"

            Draco. Harry jumped a little, but didn't look up from his dressing. Draco wasn't going to scream at the sight of the scars, the way that Harry had been more than a little afraid the mediwitch would. "To attend Abernathy's interrogation. There are some questions that I'm the only one who knows enough to ask her."

            Draco walked further into the room and shut the door behind him. Harry didn't really like the way he stood in front of it, stolidly, as though he imagined Harry would have more trouble cutting through the barrier of flesh and muscles than the barrier of wood. "I don't like the idea, Harry," he said quietly, sincerely, sounding as though he meant it. "You really do need more rest."

            Harry rolled his eyes at Draco this time. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" he complained, and bent down to pull his boots on. "It's not as though I'm pale anymore, the way you told me I was when you first brought me here."

            "No," Draco agreed, with a calm that Harry knew was deceptive and distrusted for that reason, "but you are breathing awfully fast for someone who's done nothing more stressful than getting dressed."

            Harry rocked back on his heels and stared at Draco. Draco didn't move, simply standing there with a patient gaze that said he wasn't going to let Harry out of the room.

            Harry sighed. "All right," he said. "Why? Is it just that you're worried about me? I know I came awfully close to dying, but cowering in a hospital room won't be that much better for me. I have to get out there, to show everyone spreading rumors that I didn't die, and my enemies that they can't take me down with an attack so simple."

            "I agree that you need to be seen," Draco said, and the corner of his mouth gave a violent downward twitch. "The Prophet's attempts to explain what happened and why one of their reporters was involved are getting...creative. But I'm coming with you, and you're going to spend an hour in the Ministry, speaking with Abernathy or attending the interrogation or whatever is most important. Then home."

            Harry hesitated, then waved his left hand, making the iron band spark sullenly. "What does this mean?"

            Draco's gaze became even more intense, more difficult to meet. "That the spouses have shed blood for one another."

            Harry nodded. "I thought it might," he said, which was a lie, but at least it came close to some of his wild speculations about what the iron might mean when he'd lain awake last night and Draco had dozed in the chair beside the bed. "And what does it mean, to have that many bands that weren't there on the original wedding rings?"

            "My mother owled me some of the books about forced marriages from the Malfoy libraries while I was here."

            Harry waited, but Draco said nothing more. In fact, his face seemed quiet, polished, calm, as though Harry had already agreed to spend no more than an hour at the Ministry and he had already told Harry everything he needed to know. Harry shook his head and gave in at last, asking, "What did they say?"

            "They didn't give me answers, either." Draco took a step closer. "No one has ever added this many bands to the rings before. Some added a few of the same ones, some added metals that we haven't got to yet, but there's never been four--plus the original three, gold, silver, and copper--tying a pair together."

            It was as hard to breathe, Harry thought dimly, as though the room was in the middle of a fire. He swallowed and turned his head away. Draco moved nearer, and nearer, and now his hand was on Harry's shoulder and his face was lowered, his nose nuzzling along Harry's neck.

            "Will you agree to put off the ritual for a time?" Draco asked. "Until we can be sure that you're fully recovered from Abernathy's attack and the spell I had to use to save you? I can't--" His fingers scrabbled across Harry's shoulder for a moment, as though searching for a better hold, and then stilled. "I can't let you go. Not like this. Not knowing that you might only survive the next few days because of Malfoy protection."

            Harry blinked and reached up to cover Draco's hand with his own. "You sound more affected by the attack then I was," he said quietly. "Have the Healers seen you?"

            "They've watched me all the time that I was around you, as if I was the one who was going to snap and attack you." Draco's nostrils flared, and he backed away from Harry so that he could slam his fist into his palm. "They'll never stop distrusting my family because of what happened during the war."

            "Our family," Harry said, and then, when Draco turned to him with a face like the sunrise, he wondered whether that had been the wisest thing to say. He put out one hand. Draco grasped it, thus taking away the "stop" gesture that Harry had intended his hand to convey. "Yes, I'll put the ritual off for a few days. But I do think that the Healers should see to you. You expended a lot of magic on me, and you can't have rested or eaten well for the last little while."

            Draco nodded. "One of them will look at me, and then we'll go to the Ministry."

            Harry opened his mouth to say that he could go alone, and Draco gave him an almost vicious glance. Harry lowered his eyes and nodded. After all, Draco was the one who had given him his life back, and he probably wanted to know what Abernathy could tell her interrogators as badly as Harry did. "All right."

*

            As Draco had suspected, the Healers told him that he had nothing worse than a case of slight magical exhaustion, which he could sleep off at home in a single night. Ten minutes after they cleared him to leave, he and Harry arrived at the Ministry.

            Harry stood taller once they were inside, losing any trace of shyness and diffidence in the face of Draco's opinion that he might have shown. He strode along, turning his head from side to side to meet the glances of Aurors who stared at him, calling out jokes and sharp responses to jokes and sharp questions. He was at home here, in a way that he patently wasn't at the Manor. Draco didn't think he would hesitate to take advantage of any food the Ministry could offer, or any luxuries.

            He worked hard to stifle the jealousy that clawed at the inside of his throat. He wanted to be the one to provide for Harry, to rescue him, to hold him close. This wasn't the best time, but eventually he would speak to Harry again about spending more time at home and eating meals there.

            Abernathy was being held in a small office off the main corridor, not in the holding cells where one would automatically look. Draco wondered who had come up with that mildly clever twist, but he lost most of his other concerns when they stepped into the room and Abernathy's eyes immediately snapped around and focused on Harry, her body going deadly still.

            Draco stepped in between her and Harry. There was no question in his mind of doing it, no moment when he considered not doing it. It simply happened, and he stood there with his hand lightly balanced on the butt of his wand, ready to strike and injure her if he needed to. The woman acknowledged him with no more than the flicker of an eyelash, watching Harry instead.

            "Surprised to see me alive?" There was an odd tone in Harry's voice, almost coy. He edged around Draco. Draco moved to keep him safely protected, and Harry planted a hand on his elbow and shook his head. Though it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, Draco stayed still as Harry moved forwards to confront their enemy. "Yes. Your spell didn't kill me. Though I'm curious why you would want to, when so far your group has kept me alive."

            "You're useless," Abernathy whispered. She seemed to have forgotten there was anyone in the room but her and Harry, and Draco suspected that Harry had done that on purpose. She was more likely to talk this way, Draco reckoned. "You were going to be the sacrifice that would bring the beast fully into the world of the flesh, and let us draw on its power."

            Harry's face went smooth and dangerous. This time, Draco angled his body in a different way, ready to spring on Harry and bear him to the ground if he sprang at Abernathy.

            "You wanted," Harry said, and stopped, sounding as if his mouth was so flooded with disgust that he couldn't continue. He resumed a minute later. "You wanted this curse that I have, the one that takes away other wizards' power?"

            "Of course." Abernathy sneered at him. "What did you think we were doing? Why did you think we were doing it? Of course that was the only prize worth risking everything for."

            Harry backed a step away from her, and Draco knew the red-pale color of his face didn't come from fear. He was simply revolted, repelled at the thought that someone could want to be the monster that he saw himself as, the one who could reach out and melt other wizards and take their magic into his scars.

            "Why him?" Draco asked, almost fearing to get between them, and yet wanting to spare Harry the strain of being the only one asking questions. He saw the same conflict in the faces of the other Aurors standing around them, but Draco was the only one who had had the courage to speak up. "Why was he your first victim?"

            "He has powerful magic, the most powerful we knew of," Abernathy said, watching Harry with the sort of yearning expression that Draco wanted to kill Shelborn for. "And the beast only responds to a sacrifice with magic like that. An unwilling sacrifice. Kidnapping him and giving him to it would count."

            Draco hissed under his breath. "And then..." He trailed off, not knowing how much Harry wanted revealed in front of a room of other people.

            Abernathy didn't care about that. Draco doubted she had noticed his pause, with the way she was staring at Harry. "Then," she snarled, "he had the power, somehow, and he had escaped, and wouldn't share it. We were going to bring the beast into the world and slaughter it, so that when we devoured it, we would have its gifts. He managed that, but we don't know how, and we wanted to capture him and take the knowledge from his head. Each time, something stopped us." She flashed Draco a quick glance that let him know she had hatred to spare.

            "You are going to tell us the names of your confederates," Harry murmured to, his voice low and sweet, as if he were speaking to a lover. "And the people you enchanted, like poor Grayson, to make into another sacrifice."

            "Why should I?" Abernathy was surging against her bonds as if she intended to rise from the chair, but she leaned back in it and gave him a hard, simpering smile. "When there is nothing of value that you can give us in return..."

            "You don't want to know how I escaped, then?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to know about the beast and how I killed it? Oh, well." He turned as if he was going to walk out of the room.

            "No, no!" Abernathy's voice was choked, a nasty whisper. She leaned forwards. "You swear it?" she hissed, in a thick tone that made Draco want to spit. "You swear that you'll tell us?"

            "Tell you," Harry said. "But only if you tell us the truth in return." He had a hard expression on his face, one that Draco had never seen before. He didn't know who Harry was being hard with, exactly, Abernathy or himself. Probably both. "And it has to be under Veritaserum. I don't have any reason to conceal the truth, since I want a solution to this just as much as you do, but you have every reason."

            "I swear it. I swear it! I'll give you legal permission." Abernathy's eyes shone. Draco looked away, a little sick.

            "Including how you used the decay magic, and what it is, and why you tried to kill me this last time?" Harry asked.

            "Oh, that's easy enough," Abernathy said eagerly. "The decay magic comes from the last beast we devoured, and we tried to kill you because we finally despaired of making you share your knowledge. But that was premature, eh?" She looked at Harry the way someone would look at a child who'd finally learned table manners.

            Harry folded his arms. Draco stepped forwards and looped his arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry let out a slow, deep breath and then said, "Your answers first. Under Veritaserum. Then mine."

            Abernathy nodded. "I swear it."

            Harry nodded to the other Aurors in the room, and they began to move slowly forwards. Their gazes were on Harry, Draco noted in disgust, as though he was the dangerous one or the criminal here. He tightened his hold and whispered, "This is going to take longer than an hour, isn't it?"

            Harry glanced at him with a small smile. "I'm afraid so," he said. "Sorry."

            Draco shook his head. Two days ago, he knew, he wouldn't have got even the apology. "All right. But we'll go home afterwards."

            Harry nodded, then turned around, with what amount of courage Draco would never know, to speak to the Auror in charge of the interrogation as he came towards them. Draco tried not to watch Abernathy, the parted mouth and shining eyes.

            So all this had been done in a quest for power. Once, he would have found that motive much more understandable, if not sympathetic.

            But Harry had changed him.

            Draco could only hope that he changed Harry at least as much.

*

            Althydia: They probably did have guards at first, but would have been wise to keep them at least partially out of the way so they didn't interfere with the Healers.

            There are more that could possibly be added, but as Draco told Harry here, this is the most there have ever been.

            Harry is already crashing into Draco's possessiveness, yes.

            Harry isn't yet sure what the sparks mean, so I can't comment on them.

            SP777: I think the only explanation of the abbreviations is the list that you see when you log in and say you want to post a story. EWE just means "Epilogue, What Epilogue?" and is Hp-fandom specific.

            And thank you.

            unneeded: Ian is waiting to see what Harry wants, at this point.

            Night the Storyteller: For the reasons Abernathy explains here; they finally started to think that capturing Harry was hopeless.

            Narcissa isn't telling anyone what she thinks yet.

            Silvry: The Healers know someone stubborn when they see them.

            Thank you! Laura and Ian do reappear in following chapters, but it takes a short time.
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The Marriage of True Minds