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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
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Chapter Thirty-Eight--To Join, Separate

            Harry prepared for the truth-telling session as carefully as he could, drinking a glass of water and, at Draco's insistence, eating a plate of the rather dry biscuits that the Ministry kept around for situations like this. He was thinking more about Abernathy than anything else, the hatred and the worship that had shown in her eyes when she looked at him, but one insistent fact kept pushing itself into his head, too.

            Most of the people who'll listen to you know nothing about the beast, and some, like Ron, don't know everything. You have to decide how much you want to tell.

            Which wasn't going to be everything, no matter what he'd promised Abernathy. Part of that was his own need, part of that was a professional practicality--he wasn't about to break down in front of people he needed to respect him as part of his job--and part of that was because he didn't care about keeping his word to a criminal.

            He'd have to mention the way he had conquered the beast, of course. Harry shuddered as he thought about it. That had been the part he was most desperate to keep secret at first.

            But if he could make it sound like a battle, like the conquest he'd just phrased it as in his mind, rather than eating...

            He felt his shoulders relaxing. Yes, that might work.

            "I wish you would tell me what you're planning."

            Draco's hands slid down his chest; he was standing behind Harry's chair. Harry reached up to capture his wrists and hold them still. Among other things, there would be people pouring into this small, plain, barely furnished room soon, and he didn't think Draco would want them to see him touching Harry that way. "You know it," he said. "I'm going to tell her some things, but not all."

            "That reassures me, at least." Draco's voice was soft puffs of breath right next to his ear. "I really was afraid that you would tell them everything, up to and including the parts you should only share with me."

            "Why?" Harry turned Draco's palm over so that he could press his wedding ring into it. Ever since he woke up, there was this need to be near Draco, to touch him in random places and at random times. From the lack of moving away and general bristling, Harry reckoned it was welcome to Draco, too. "You know how hard I fought to shield some of those secrets."

            "Because you're terminally honest?" Draco murmured in an acid tone. "And because you did make a promise, and in most cases, Gryffindors hold promises like that sacred."

            "I'm no longer as much of a Gryffindor as I once was," Harry said. "Some of that comes from being married to a Slytherin."

            Draco smiled and bent down as if he would kiss him. Harry found himself anticipating that moment, waiting, holding his breath, his heartbeat going so fast in his chest that he ordinarily would have sat down and put his head between his knees if he'd felt it.

            "Am I interrupting?"

            A soft, deferential voice, with a hint of yearning behind it. It could only be Ian. Harry sighed, leaned away from Draco's lips, and shook his head. "No. Please come in, Ian. Did Anderson send you?"

            Draco's hands clamped down where they rested on Harry's chest, and he all but hissed at Ian, as if he was a tomcat defending its territory. Harry rolled his eyes, confident Draco couldn't see from this angle. It was reasonable for Draco to feel protective of Harry after what Abernathy had done to him, but he had been calm enough to acknowledge Ian as Harry's lover in front of dozens of witnesses right before the attack. Harry hoped that he hadn't gone backwards now.

*

            Harry had said that he'd chosen Shelborn because he was pure-blood and would understand the sort of marriage bond that tied Harry and Draco together. As far as Draco was concerned, they understood each other perfectly in that moment, too.

            Draco didn't want to share, and Shelborn knew that. And Shelborn wanted to remain at Harry's side until Harry dismissed him, and Draco knew that. He just hated it far more than Shelborn hated Draco's jealousy.

            The moment stretched taut between them, so much so that Draco thought it would snap before it unraveled. Then Shelborn turned away and said, in a stiff voice that Draco couldn't help hoping that Harry would hate, "No. I came on my own, because I was worried about you. Was that wrong?" And this time he carefully kept his eyes only on Harry's face, though it meant that he had to look around quite a lot of Draco's body. Draco's temper escalated close to boiling; he had to bite his lip and turn his head to the side so that he couldn't actually attack Shelborn.

            "No," Harry said. He didn't seem to feel the same clawing need to get rid of Shelborn that Draco did, but he did keep touching Draco's hand, and wasn't making any attempt to get rid of it now. Probably something to do with the iron band, and the fact that no one has ever had this many bands on their weddings rings before, Draco thought, attempting to breathe through the heavy red haze that seemed to have descended over his eyes. "Please, I--just step back outside for a moment, if you would?"

            Shelborn nodded, and did. Harry promptly leaned back against Draco and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "What is this?" he whispered. "I felt it when we were in hospital, but it wasn't this bad, then."

            Draco said nothing until he could reach down and twist their hands together, locking the rings. "I don't think," he said, his voice cracking, "that I mentioned everything the books my mother sent us said. Just that no one else that I could find or heard of had as many as four bands on their rings."

            Harry blinked up at him. Draco had to push back the savage impulse to pin Harry to his chair and bite his throat until he cried for mercy and came. He cleared his own throat as Harry said, "No. Was there more?"

            Draco nodded. "The--iron band does result in more protectiveness against anyone who can possibly be considered an enemy. I thought I was feeling it when I didn't want to leave your room, and when I felt uneasy that a Healer might harm you. It seems it goes deeper than that, though." He had to touch Harry's thigh, just sliding his hand lower and digging his fingers into soft flesh. Harry arched his neck, his breath stuttering. "Right now, what I want is to hide you away from anyone who could possibly see or touch you. That includes Shelborn." He thought of Abernathy coming into the room and seeing Harry, sitting close enough to touch him or hear him speak, and his rage whipped through him like a loose cord of steel.

            "I--I think I would feel the same way if d'Alveda was here," Harry said, and then grasped Draco's hand, digging deep in turn. Draco welcomed the pain of half-crushed bones and tendons; it meant that Harry cared for him, wanted to stay with him, and that the new band wasn't affecting Draco alone. "Yeah," Harry said, voice snapping. "Definitely not a good idea to think about her."

            "We need to put the ritual off for a time," Draco said. "And we need to--Harry, I need some assurance that you don't want to leave the marriage bond. Please," he added, when Harry tilted his head back and there was flaring surprise on his face. "I think it was because I thought of the Malfoy wards as being able to protect you when we were in hospital, and we've already been here longer than the hour I wanted. Please," he said again, feeling the desire rising in his bones, as urgent as hunger during starvation.

*

            Harry swallowed. He wanted to get up and shut the door, shut Ian out, shut out the interrogation, shut out Abernathy and all the things he had promised to do and say and listen to. It didn't seem to matter right now that he had promised to speak about what had happened when he escaped the beast, not when he had decided on those things without input from Draco.

            He wanted to go home, because that would make the hunted look disappear from Draco's eyes and he might smile again.

            Harry shut his eyes and strove for clear thought. This iron band can be appallingly dangerous, can't it? Or maybe it's only dangerous because we didn't go home and rest behind the wards for a while. It wasn't as bad in St. Mungo's, which Draco must have accepted as generally safe.

            He couldn't let the magic of the bond make the decisions for him, though. He stood up and turned to face Draco, reaching out to clasp his hand. He didn't move to look at him until he was sure that he could feel Draco's fingers beneath his own, and that they were real, something to anchor him in the spinning mass of his thoughts.

            "Draco, listen," he said softly. "This is part of the reason that I wanted to escape the bond. I don't want it making decisions for us. You should have what you deserve, someone who chose you freely and wasn't frightened into choosing you. You wouldn't want me to agree just because I wanted not to distress you, right?"

            "I need you to agree now," Draco said, his voice deep, his eyes bright with a passion that Harry had seen before in him, right after the time when Draco had rescued him from the decay wizards, but not so strongly. "I need it, Harry, or I don't know how I'll be able to stand having Abernathy in the same room with you."

            Harry nodded. For that matter, he wasn't sure that he would make it through the conversation with her under the sudden impression that hit him now, slamming shut over him like a trapdoor: that she would attack Draco and Harry would lose him. He had to hold still and take a few deep, careful breaths until that impression slid past.

            "I can make that promise," he said. "You're not asking me to stay forever, are you? Just to think about it, and put it off for a while?"

            Draco shut his eyes. Harry had the impression that he would have liked to ask for more, but he was probably finding the overwhelming emotions as irritating as Harry. He nodded.

            "Good," Harry said. "Then I make the promise. I'll put off using the ritual for a time, and stay within the protection of the marriage bond. And we'll go home the minute I'm done speaking to Abernathy," he added, because Draco still looked as though he was pulling against the traces of a heavy cart.

            Draco slumped forwards, catching himself on the chair and swearing as he looked up. His eyes were wide. "I don't--I've never felt anything like that," he said breathily. "Harry, are you all right?"

            "Of course I am," Harry said, smiling at him. His heart ached, his chest ached, and he still wanted to shut the door and make sure Draco was safe. "It affected you more than me, probably because I was the one who nearly died in your arms."

            "I'm glad you realize that." Draco was staring at him like a hawk, and at least Harry's desires were shared.

            Harry gave in to them enough to lean forwards and kiss him. Draco put one hand on his hip, one on his arse, and gave back as good as he got, to the point that someone had to noisily clear his throat from outside the room before Harry realized that the door had opened all the way.

            "We're ready," Ian said, giving him an unfathomable look in the moments before he turned around and nodded to the other Aurors to escort Abernathy in.

            Harry cleared his throat and refused to glance over at Draco, who was smiling in contentment. Of course he would be less embarrassed when someone found him kissing Harry; he'd been in favor of this marriage for a lot longer than Harry had.

            Yes, but the one he was in favor of was the kind of marriage where you would probably never kiss except to satisfy Narcissa or some photographer who wanted to know how well we were getting along.

            Yes, Draco had changed. And as the harsh protectiveness the iron band imposed on Harry eased and he squeezed Draco's hand, he could admit that he had, too, and would probably change further.

            It's not falling hopelessly if you have someone there to catch you.

*

            "...And that's the way I escaped from the beast." Harry reached out and picked up the glass of water that Shelborn had brought for him. Draco would have done that, but Shelborn had beaten him to it this time. There would be future times when he didn't. Draco contented himself with that, and with watching Harry's throat work as he swallowed. Harry put the glass back down and focused on Abernathy, who sat chained in the chair across from him. "Does that answer your questions?"

            Draco looked from face to face. In the end, the large audience he'd feared had been reduced to a few people: Shelborn and Weasley, whom Harry trusted; the frowning Head Auror; and Anderson, in charge of this investigation now. There were other Aurors waiting outside the door, with wands drawn, in case Abernathy moved, but they had been walled out with a ward that blocked sound.

            What Harry had said, although not the whole truth as Draco understood it, was more than enough. Shelborn was staring at him with a drawn face. Weasley had long since reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, holding it there as though he thought his best mate would collapse without his support. Anderson looked sick, and now and then glanced at Abernathy and then away as if he assumed she would change into a beast herself. That would have been fine, except he looked at Harry with the same expression, and that was not fine.

            The Head Auror showed the least reaction, but then, he had been the one to come up with the lies that covered Harry's disappearance in the first place. He nodded now and said, "I think Ms. Abernathy owes us the return of courtesy under Veritaserum that she promised."

            "Just a minute," Abernathy said in an appealing tone, eyes fixed on Harry. "I don't understand. Why you? Why did you manage to escape that way?" Harry had told her that he'd simply overmastered the beast with his will and magic, rather than eating it. "No one else could have done that. Why you?"

            Harry gave a bland smile. Or, at least, it looked bland. Draco suspected that one would have to be as close to Harry as he was in all ways, mentally and physically, to recognize the bitterness layered beneath it.

            Draco edged a step closer to him. Harry turned his head slightly towards him, as if to say that he appreciated the support but didn't need it. Draco disagreed with that conclusion, but it would be stupid to act that way in front of this crowd and possibly undermine their impression of Harry's strength. He forced himself to stop moving, and ignore the wild fantasies that suggested keeping Harry inside the Manor for the rest of his life was a good idea.

            "Why me anything?" Harry asked softly. "Why did Voldemort choose to mark me, why did I survive where no one else did, why was I the one able to end the war and defeat him at other times?" He shrugged. "Destiny only takes you so far as an answer, and so does prophecy and even free will. It's just the way it was, and I've given up on asking questions that don't have answers."

            Abernathy opened her mouth to complain, or argue, or continue, but Anderson stepped forwards and dropped the Veritaserum into place on her tongue. Good. Draco didn't want to listen to her speaking as though Harry was a disobedient animal who had tricked its trainers.

            Abernathy shuddered, and the glaze of the potion spread over her eyes. She was still peering dreamily at Harry, though. Again Draco had to clench his teeth and control his impulses, in this case the one that wanted him to lean over in front of Harry so she had to look at him instead.

            "How organized is this conspiracy, and how much of a conspiracy?" the Head Auror asked directly.

            "Not a conspiracy," Abernathy whispered in a monotone. "A confederation. We meet in secret places, because we desire power, more than the weak wizards around us, and we knew that others would never understand, so we formed our federation in secret. We summoned one beast, a different one, from a place swarming with swamps, and we fed on it. That gave us the decay magic. But we wanted the power to take magic from other wizards, and that beast was harder to pin down and capture."

            Draco would have liked to laugh at the looks of disgust on the Aurors' faces, but he was too busy breathing rage at what that made Harry. Just what Abernathy had already said, then: the most powerful sacrifice they could find. They wouldn't care about the soul that might have died with him if he hadn't been strong enough to fight his way free, about the personality, about the intelligence and the exasperating refusal to worry about himself and the reluctant, awkward coming-to-terms with his adopted family.

            Be fair. You wouldn't have cared about any of those if Harry had died before you knew him, either.

            Draco ignored that thought. No, he wouldn't have cared, but he didn't know about it, then. The decay wizards had had a chance to observe Harry, and they still had given him to the beast.

            The Head Auror asked a few more questions about where they had met, how many people there were in the group, and what books they had used, and then returned to the subject Draco was most interested in with, "And how were you able to take Auror Potter so easily the times you captured him?"

            "The decay magic rots defenses," Abernathy sighed. "And we had a few on the inside by then. It can also rot brains. We plant a seed, and it grows, and it sends tendrils through them."

            "Is it recoverable?" Harry demanded suddenly. He leaned forwards past Draco, and also past Shelborn and Weasley, who had drifted into a sort of sheltering wall of their own. "Can someone you've taken over with it get their own brain back?"

            Abernathy stared at him, and as much as she could feel emotion right then, Draco sensed she was surprised at the question. "I don't know. Why would we know? We never tested it."

            Harry's lips wrinkled back, and he shifted for a moment as if he would rise from his chair and leave the room. Draco reached out to support him, and found Shelborn doing the same thing. This time, Draco didn't scruple to stare his hatred, and Shelborn turned his head to the side and looked away.

            He also dropped the hand that had been reaching towards Harry, which was more to Draco's taste.

            The Head Auror asked some more irrelevant questions. Well, presumably they were relevant to someone and would help them capture the people who had hurt Harry, but Draco didn't care right now. He wanted to get Harry home, to hide him and protect him and cradle him, and he didn't care how ridiculous his desires sounded when spoken out loud.

            He looked hard at Shelborn and Weasley. Weasley got it first and nodded, moving forwards to speak softly to the Head Auror. He looked over and nodded, distantly uninterested, then returned to the interrogation.

            Harry stood up, and gave Draco an annoyed look when he found out that part of the deal was Draco's arm around his shoulders. Draco shrugged back, unrepentant. The iron band was hammering protectiveness at him, and if Harry didn't feel it as strongly at the moment, that wasn't Draco's problem.

            Luckily, before they had to get into an argument in front of everyone or Draco had to drag him out of there, Harry seemed to yield and get it. His nostrils flared wide and he nodded, and then actually consented to lean on Draco's shoulders as they worked their way out of the interrogation room. Draco didn't look over his shoulder and smirk at Shelborn in triumph, but it took all his self-control.

*

            Harry stepped into the entrance hall of the Manor and looked around uneasily. Something was going to happen, he thought, something was going to burst through a door and attack them...

            And then he snorted, and tried to force himself to relax. He was still feeling the paranoia that Abernathy's confession had stirred in him, and the effects of the iron. It was understandable, but no one would threaten them here.

            "To bed," Draco announced, and began to march Harry down the middle of the hall. Harry realized that he was really being marched, his shoulders completely under the dominion of Draco's arm, and shook him off with a snort.

            "I can find my own way--"

            Draco turned around and stared at him. Harry swallowed and looked away.

            "Good," Draco said softly. "Now. I think we'll be both much better off if we share my bed, as we've done twice before. That way, I won't be constantly rising in the middle of the night to check on you, and you don't need to worry about me, either."

            Harry opened his mouth to respond. He intended to agree, though more because of the advantages it offered him to keep an eye on Draco than because he believed that he was actually in danger.

            But he never got the chance to say that, because someone cleared his throat above them. Harry turned and looked up, his wand already in his hand.

            Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of the staircase, holding his hands high to show that he held no weapon. Harry hesitated, and Draco hesitated, and that was a moment too long.

            "I revoke the marriage bond," Lucius said in a clear voice.

            The blow that shuddered through Harry's body was a hundred times harder, a hundred times worse, than the one that had brought him to Malfoy Manor when the ring fastened itself to his finger. He felt his heart screaming, felt the scars on his back writhing and shuddering as though someone was trying to rip them out of his flesh. He thought he could hear the blood Draco had lent him sloshing back and forth, as if it could leap out of his veins and rejoin the original giver.

            Draco screamed. Harry turned instinctively towards him. The air in between them was dark, and as he watched, three pieces of metal whirred past him, close enough that he could see them through the smoke. Gold, silver, copper.

            But the pain grew worse, and there was still a burning pain in his finger that Harry didn't understand, and he slumped to the floor.

            He did it with one hand outstretched, still trying to reach for Draco. He felt Draco's fingers brush madly over his, and then, the touch of metal.

            A four-stranded ring, unbroken.

            Then the darkness and the noise and the pain was all gone at once, and oblivion stole Harry away into an almost-pleasant silence.

*

            Review responses for Chapter 37 are at http://lomonaaerenrr.livejournal.com/34780.html
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The Marriage of True Minds