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Ceremonies of Strife	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16218 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this writing.

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Chapter
Thirty-Eight�An Explosion

�� Harry had
wondered how in the world he was going to deal with the knowledge that the
balance of the world had been affected and they could all be in danger of�what?
Dying? Not dying? Becoming Nihil�s slaves?

�� As it
turned out, the only way to deal with it, once he got back to the trainee
barracks, was to forget about it for right now and continue working on his
exams and the new exercises that the Aurors were putting them through.

�� Lowell and
Weston were the grimmest, but all the instructors seemed to have adapted to the
new, darker world of war they had decided they were living in. Davidson was
teaching them to disguise their magical signatures, which she said would help
more when battling enemies from a distance than hiding their faces or bodies
would. Coronante, meanwhile, was teaching them to
follow someone else through the small specks of magic they shed on a daily
basis, usually from their spells, but also from their robes and wands.

�� Someone
who carries enchanted objects,� Coronante had said,
serious for once, holding up her finger as if she could command them all to pay
attention to her by using it, �will always leave traces of enchantment behind.
We can all thank Merlin that Muggles haven�t developed technology that picks up
on it.� She paused, then added impressively, �Yet.�

�� Draco had
muttered something about the impossibilities of Muggles doing any such thing,
but even he had listened.

�� Hestia was drilling them in Quick Response to the point
that Harry went to bed each night with his hands shaking. And Lowell and Weston
were relentless, both in the ordinary lessons and the private ones they held
with Harry and Draco. They had partnered up many of the trainees, who protested
that they should be allowed to choose their own partners.

�� They
stopped that when Weston turned around, eyes blazing, and hissed at them, �You
cannot be expected to know your own strengths and weaknesses the way the
instructors can. You cannot be expected to choose your partners based on true
compatibility and fighting skill, but rather on juvenile notions such as
attraction. We will make the choices,
and you will accept and live with
them.�

�� After that,
the other trainees shut up and did as they were told, though Harry noticed that
more than one of them glanced sideways at him and Draco when Weston said those
words about attraction.

�� Since Aran was gone, of course the Spell Lexicon class was not
the same, but some of the other instructors, including Lowell, Weston, and
Ketchum, took it in turns to teach them as many spells as their heads could
hold. Harry noticed that most of them were defensive. Apparently the
instructors still believed that most of the trainees wouldn�t be in any
full-scale battle.

�� Or needed to be able to defend themselves
better than they could attack, Harry told himself, more charitably to the
instructors, after watching half the class singe each other�s hair or ears with
the offensive charms they were allowed to practice.

�� It was
strange, both exciting and depressing. Harry had the feeling that they were
part of a large group of young animals flopping around in the dark, slowly
making their way towards the light and adulthood. The instructors thought so,
too, if the way they gave narrowed eyes, sharp commands, and rare nods of
praise or approval was any indication.

�� Meanwhile,
Nihil seemed to stay quiet. The usual reports came in, of ghosts and the dead
walking, but they weren�t connected to attacks so much as stray sightings. Harry
wondered if he needed time to recover after the battle, or if he was planning
something that required lulling his enemies off their guard.

�� And then
something else came along�something Harry should have remembered, something
that shattered the relaxation he�d started to slip into against his will.

*

�� Draco
frowned at the owl that coasted down to sit on the table in front of him. It
was an enormous bird, with thick, silvery, almost white feathers, rings of
black around its golden eyes, and talons that, in a mere nervous flex, carved
deep scratches into the surface of the table. It obviously wasn�t a common
post-owl, but he knew all his friends� birds, and none of them had one like
this.

�� Still, the
usual spells revealed no charms or curses on the letter that it held out to
him. Draco accepted it and fed the owl half his sandwich as he considered the
seal holding the letter shut.

�� Heavy, as
gold as the owl�s eyes, and decorated with a wolf�s head howling at the moon
and stars. Draco ran a list of people over in his mind, and ended up shaking
his head. The only werewolf he had known was Remus Lupin, dead in the Battle of Hogwarts, and no other
family�s seal resembled this.

�� Perhaps this is someone who wants to make a
new alliance, Draco thought as he slid a finger beneath the seal. Or someone who wants to try and blackmail
me.

�� The seal
broke with a slight puff of air. The air coalesced in Draco�s ears. He tried to
hide his gasp of shock as his mother�s voice suddenly spoke to him in a soft
whisper from that air, but he was afraid he wasn�t entirely successful.

�� Draco. If
you are hearing this than I have managed to send the letter with the seal of my
new identity. I have fled from the Manor to Ireland, where I have a small house
which an alternate identity of mine, Madam Rosegold,
owns. Please allow her to communicate with you. Her seal is the wolf beneath
the moon and stars, and I will use the seal to indicate whether I am
free�howling�in danger�running and crouching�or moving to a new sanctuary�bounding
away.�

�� Narcissa�s
voice paused, and Draco closed his eyes. His forehead was tight with grief. His
mother had not told even him about this identity or house of hers. He suspected
he knew what was coming next.

�� Your
father,� Narcissa said softly, �saw you come into Wiltshire with Potter in
order to fight a strange creature. I believe this creature is a necromancer; I
do not know if your father has thought that far ahead in his attempt to
determine its identity, or whether he cares about it, next to his fury at you. All
he has talked about since that day is his desire to punish you. I do not know
if he means to kill you, but he began to�do certain things to me.�

�� Draco
choked. Harry stared at him in concern and reached out to put a hand on his
shoulder, but Draco shook his head frantically. He had never heard of the spell
that his mother had used to send her voice like this, and for all he knew,
someone touching him might disrupt it.

�� I have
fled,� Narcissa said. �Keep yourself safe, my son. For right now, I believe you
will be safer if I don�t attempt to communicate with you or visit you except in
the guise of Madam Rosegold. Her first name is
Clarinda, by the way. And there is one other piece of news. I have discovered
that rumors that you were dating Potter, and certainly the knowledge that you
were partnered with him, reached Azkaban last year, months before your father�s
escape. I do not know what this means. I do not know why he acted like the
knowledge was new to him when he came home. Perhaps it was in an attempt to
take us both off-guard.

�� Be well,
my son, and safe. I love you.�

�� The voice
ended. Draco sat where he was for long moments, eyes shut, fingers playing idly
with the parchment in front of him. It was almost blank, he saw when he opened
his eyes, with only a few lines telling him that Madam Rosegold
had heard he was a fine young man, and could she speak with him? Her own son
had been killed in the war, and since then she had been so lonely.

�� The real
message would probably always come in the seals, Draco thought, sitting up and
forcing his brain to function. It would be safer that way.

�� He hadn�t
known his mother could do that. He hadn�t known she had a whole identity
already in place, as opposed to having a bolthole or
two where Lucius couldn�t follow her, or a name that would shelter her. His
mother was more capable and resourceful than he had dreamed.

�� He told
himself that, over and over, to keep from panicking when he thought of her
possible wounds from Lucius. He reminded himself, too, that she probably would
not have hesitated to ask him for any healing potions or ingredients for them
that she needed.

�� Probably.

�� Draco, are
you all right?�

�� Draco
started and looked up. Harry hovered beside him, his eyes so large that they looked
as if they would fall out of his head. He looked down at the letter in Draco�s
hands, then at his face, and seemed to make his own decision.

�� Everyone
out of the way!� he cried, leaping to his feet and cupping his hands around his
mouth. Heads whipped towards him all over the dining hall, and more than one
person stood up as if that would make getting out of here easier. �My partner�s
going to be sick!�

�� After that,
there were more than enough hands to pull chairs and tables out of the way and
open doors for them. Harry ran along with Draco�s arm draped over his shoulder,
loudly reassuring him that the toilet in their rooms would be the best one for
him to use and that they were almost there. Draco held on firmly to the letter and
Harry and shut his eyes, clinging on for the ride.

�� When the
door of their rooms was locked behind them, Harry stretched him out on the bed
and crawled in. He flicked his wand once. Draco blinked when he felt magic
settle over the door instead of him, and then realized what had probably
happened. Harry had cast a ward that would bring the sounds of retching to the
ears of anyone who tried to listen in.

�� It was the
sort of detail Harry wouldn�t have thought of a few months ago. Draco tried to
be proud of the part he had played in bringing about Harry�s change, but it was
hard to be anything except worried sick.

�� What
happened? Do you want to talk about it?� Harry�s breath was warm against his
throat, his words soft in Draco�s ear.

�� Draco shook
his head and reached up. Harry let him cling to his neck�though that was weak
and childish, Draco had only one thought to spare for his own weakness before
he simply gave up and cuddled closer to Harry�and stroked his hair, whispering
soothing words into his ear. Draco shut his eyes and let his head loll to the
side, until it found a comfortable resting place, a combination of Harry�s neck
and the pillow.

�� He breathed
into the silence, and listened to Harry�s heartbeat and his gentle murmurs and
the swishing sound his hand made traveling through Draco�s hair. He could feel
the touch too, of course, but for some reason it was the sounds that relaxed
him more than any of the other things. He�d always been like that, and once his
mother had realized it, she used to hold Draco close to her when he had a
nightmare and let him simply listen to her heart until he fell asleep again.

�� His mother�

�� Draco�s
throat and stomach were burning with an odd combination of resentment, fear,
anger, and hatred. He had not thought his father so gone that he would turn on
Narcissa, no matter how many months he had spent in Azkaban. He felt he should
have been there himself to interfere, or at least tried harder to deceive his
father or smooth over the mistake that had let Lucius see him fighting Nihil.

�� He didn�t
know what he could have done, but he was sure of one thing: he should have been
stronger, better, cleverer, braver, than what he had been.

�� He opened
his eyes and blinked at the ceiling when he realized where his thoughts were
tending. They were the exact sort of thoughts he had scolded Harry for.

�� Does he feel this way, this sort of guilt
that he hasn�t done as well as he thinks he should, all the time? It�s worse
than I thought. Worse to deal with than I thought, at least.

�� Draco
finally lifted a hand and caressed Harry�s hair back. Harry immediately stopped
whispering to him and fixed anxious eyes on his face. His free hand came up to
cup Draco�s cheek.

�� What can I
do?� he whispered.

�� Draco had
to shut his eyes a moment. That was Harry all over, always asking how he could
help and how he could jump in to make things better. He didn�t do it as much as
Draco had once believed he did�he got interested where he thought he could help, rather than trying to
sacrifice himself for random strangers on the street�but that made it better,
now that Draco was included in the circle of people Harry loved.

�� Draco
allowed himself to soak that in for a time, the reminder that he didn�t have to
stand alone, before he took a deep breath and told Harry what had happened.

�� Harry
didn�t try to suggest that Draco might be wrong, or might be jumping to
conclusions about what had happened to his mother, the way Draco thought
Granger would have. He didn�t suggest immediate practical solutions to the
problems, either, the way Blaise or Pansy would have. But he did listen, and he
did stroke Draco�s hair, and his eyes took on a deepening fiery glow, and Draco
thought that was quite enough for the moment.

�� When Draco
finished his recitation, Harry kissed him and lingered there for so long that
Draco had almost forgotten anything but the taste of his lips by the time Harry
raised his head again. �How much time will you need?� Harry asked softly.

�� Draco
blinked. �For what? Mourning my mother? I hope that I won�t have to mourn her,
although�� He heard his voice rising, and shut his eyes.

�� It�s all
right,� Harry said, voice so earnest and sweet that Draco was doubly glad he
had his eyes shut. �No. I meant the time that you�ll need to take off from your
training so that you can confront your father.�

�� Draco
stared at him in shock. �What?� he asked at last, when he thought he would say
something sensible instead of stumbling and stammering over his words.
�Harry�you can�t possibly be thinking��

�� This has
to end,� Harry said, not loudly, but forcefully enough that Draco shut his
mouth. �It can�t continue, Draco.
Your father can�t threaten you, and threaten your mother, and potentially
appear from the distance to hurt you at any moment. You�re not going to be
under his shadow the way I was under Voldemort�s shadow. I wouldn�t have let
anyone I loved go through that. I�m not going to condone it now, either, now
that the war�s over.�

�� Draco
reached up and slid a hand down the side of Harry�s face. He couldn�t help the
gesture, and he couldn�t help the way he blinked rapidly to keep back the
tears. But he didn�t mind Harry seeing that.

�� Harry gave
him a slow, generous smile, and proved he understood the importance of silence
by waiting for a long moment before he asked, �Will you let me help? Do you
agree that we should get rid of the threat that Lucius poses as soon as we
can?�

�� Draco
nodded twice, in case Harry thought he was only responding to one question, and
then buried his head against Harry�s chest. Harry�s arm curved around his
shoulders and he began to hum beneath his breath, a song that Draco didn�t
recognize but which had a soothing tune. He seemed to understand that Draco
liked sounds to comfort him, as well.

�� I don�t have to do this on my own. I can get
answers about my mother and make my father step away and stop trying to take
control of my life.

�� Draco
closed his eyes and sank deeper into the warmth.

*

�� Harry put
on a grave expression. He was glad that they had sent him to talk to Portillo
Lopez. He would have had to lie to another Healer, and he didn�t think he was
very good at it. But he could tell Portillo Lopez the truth, or at least part
of it, and as long as he looked sufficiently grim to anyone who passed the
office, he shouldn�t attract suspicion.

�� You are
aware that I must report any serious illness to the Aurors?� Portillo Lopez
spoke without looking at him, her head bowed and her hair falling to the sides
as she wrote something down on a piece of parchment. She wore a scarf, green
fringed with gold, over her hair, as she usually did. Harry studied it as he
answered.

�� I know.
But he�s not really sick.�

�� Portillo
Lopez moved with impressive fluidity, spinning away from the parchment and
drawing her wand. Harry didn�t have time to breathe before it was pointed
straight at him. He blinked and said nothing, since Portillo Lopez�s eyes were
flat and she was speaking.

�� You have
enchanted him with your necromancy? You plan to raise the dead for him?�

�� Harry shook
his head, wondering if Portillo Lopez would insist on inspecting Lucius for
signs of deadness if Harry told her the whole story. �No. His father�s been
making threats against him. He has to stop it. Draco needs time away from the
Auror program to make him stop, though. I thought it would be simpler to use
the excuse of sickness than involve the whole wizarding world in what should be
a private family affair.�

�� Portillo
Lopez stared at him levelly, without lowering the wand. �His father is in
Azkaban. What can he do from there?�

�� This was
the part where Harry did have to lie. He leaned forwards, never looking away
from her eyes, and then had a brief moment of panic as he wondered if he was
overdoing it. Would someone who was telling the truth look away? Would he stare
at the floor as he confessed the threat to his beloved partner�s life?

�� But he
decided in another moment that he couldn�t worry about it. He had to worry
about what he would do, not what
someone else would.

�� If you
know anything about the Malfoy family,� Harry whispered, �and especially what
Lucius used to be, when the Ministry
still trusted him and he was free, you wouldn�t ask that.�

�� But he is
not what he used to be, and he isn�t free,� Portillo Lopez said. Her wand still
hadn�t moved. Harry tried to keep from looking down at it, but it was hard.
�So. Tell me. What can he do to Trainee Malfoy from inside prison? And why do
you assume that the Ministry would do nothing when one of its trainees is
threatened?�

�� Here, Harry
felt comfortable enough to sneer. �As if all the Aurors feel that way. Haven�t
you noticed that most of them look sideways at Draco and don�t do anything good
for him if they can help it?�

�� Portillo
Lopez did lower the wand then, her mouth tightening. �Yes, I have. But I can
still help. Tell me what the threats are, and I will find a way to settle
them.�

�� Harry
entertained a wistful image of Portillo Lopez and her Order showing up on the
doorstep of Malfoy Manor. But Lucius could probably use wards to fry them or
something. And since he wasn�t dead�Draco had been certain of that, especially
since he and his mother would have received news from Azkaban if Lucius had
died�an order of anti-necromancers wouldn�t have any power over him.

�� Draco says
that he thinks they�re threats against his mother,� Harry said, improvising by
telling part of the truth, again. �And he isn�t making them public. Draco
doesn�t want other people dragged into this, either. We have to handle it
ourselves. We need someone to cover for us. Will you?� His second choice had
been Ketchum, but Draco was unhappy with that idea.

�� Portillo
Lopez gave him another of those slow, deep, uncomfortable looks that seemed to
scour his soul. Harry tried to stand still instead of wriggling.

�� You are
still strange,� Portillo Lopez whispered. �I can sense the taint of necromancy
in you, but necromancers do not risk themselves for others. They do not feel
love or compassion, either.�

�� Maybe I�m
not as tainted as you think,� Harry said. �Or maybe you don�t know as much
about necromancers as you think.�

�� I have
tracked and killed over sixty,� Portillo Lopez said, absently, not as if she
intended to impress him. Then, while she was still studying Harry and Harry was
still trying to react to her casual announcement of that many assassinations,
she murmured, �No, it is something else. And I am interested enough in the
difference between you and a being like Nihil to aid you. Perhaps you hold the
key to something my Order has sought for years.�

�� What�s
that?� Harry asked, snapping in his relief. He hadn�t meant to do that, he�d
meant to thank her, but this was too important to both him and Draco. �A better
way to kill them?�

�� No,�
Portillo Lopez said. �A way to redeem you.�

*

�� Draco
looked up when Harry slipped back into their rooms and shut the door behind him.
He tried to smile, but he knew it looked brittle and false on his face. �Did
you get what we needed?� he demanded.

�� Harry
strode across the room to kneel in front of him and take his hands. Harry had
been touching him a lot more since the letter came, Draco thought absently, as
if could sense how much Draco needed that touch. �Yes. Portillo Lopez is going
to tell everyone that you�re badly sick, and that I�m already infected since I
spend so much time with you. She�ll pretend that we�re staying in her private
infirmary while we�re in Wiltshire.�

�� Draco
nodded. �In Wiltshire doing what, though?� This was the part he didn�t
understand. He had thought that Harry wanted to get him time away from the
Auror program so he could check on his mother. But Harry had argued, with both
force and good sense, that Draco didn�t know enough about where his mother was
staying, and that he would give her disguise away to Lucius if he did find her.

�� Making
sure that your father stops threatening you.� Harry�s face was grim.

�� Draco
sighed. �And how can I do that? Exposing the fact that he�s out of Azkaban
isn�t an option,� he added, when he saw Harry opening his mouth. �I don�t want
more scandal attached to our name than I can help.�

�� I know,�
Harry said. �That�s why I�m going to do most of it, so if this news does come
out, we�ll get away with it.�

�� Draco
sucked in his breath a little and looked at Harry with admiration. He hadn�t
thought Harry would ever use the power of his own name that way, but once
again, he decided, Harry would do things for other people that he wouldn�t do
for himself. �So what�s your plan?�

�� I said it
already.� Harry�s fingers moved in gentle patterns over Draco�s knuckles. �Make
him stop threatening you.�

�� But how��

�� I�m not
picky.�

�� Draco
shivered. Harry�s face was so cold, and his power so intense, that Draco could
feel the chill around them both at that moment as if he had stepped into the
middle of the necromantic ritual again.

�� He leaned
up and pressed his lips against Harry�s, just for a moment.

�� If I don�t have the power to fight my father
on my own, the next best thing is being beside someone who does.

*

�� Dragons
Breath: I�m afraid there will be no orgies. ;)

�� But there
are answers to this problem. It�s just in the future.

�� SP777:
Draco doesn�t really believe Harry is one. He believes he has a natural talent
for it, of sorts, but he isn�t practicing, he isn�t raising the dead�and never
has�and the necromancy he did in the last battle was really weird. So Draco can
say he isn�t one and still believe it himself.

�� The
solution will mostly be in the third story, not this one.

�� polka dot: McGonagall
may be necessary in the end. Draco wants to keep it private just because he
wants to keep everything private, and he doesn�t trust easily.
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Ceremonies of Strife