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Rejoicing In Their Strength	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9781 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

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�� Of course
he went back to Potter�s glade.

�� He didn�t
mean to. But staying in his body while his father tortured him was no choice at
all, and he found observing Muggles, or even wizards, less interesting than it
had been when he was sure no one could see him.

�� Someone
could. That person waited in the distance, and probably forgot about him the
longer he was absent. Draco pictured Potter involving himself in the affairs of
his pack, and his friends if they ever visited, and deciding that Draco was
only an aberration in his life, the same way Draco had been for him in
Hogwarts.

�� His pride,
battered down by Lucius�s wires and bolts and pinching machines, decided, for
some reason, that that was the final
insult. Before his death, Draco could at least say that he had managed to
matter to Harry bloody Potter.

�� Even if he
was the only one who ever knew, because all Potter had to do to conceal the
fact was simply not mention to anyone else that he�d talked with Draco.

�� A memory of
Hyacinth and the way she�d sniffed out blood and pain on him made Draco pause
for a moment. But then he shrugged and flitted away from the arguing Muggle
family he�d been watching in the direction of the pull that led to the forest.
All he had to do was wait until Hyacinth left and then present himself to
Potter. He was sure he could irritate him easily enough to make him forget what
Hyacinth had said, or get him talking of himself, which Potter loved to do.
Draco would luxuriate in the sensation of fooling someone else one more time.

*

�� There you
are.�

�� For a
moment, Draco decided he�d made a mistake after all, even though he�d carefully
waited until Potter split his pack and sent them in separate directions to �try
to balance their wolf and human sides for an afternoon.� Somebody had to have
stayed behind. Probably Hyacinth; so far, Draco had not heard Potter speak to
anyone else in that careful, coaxing tone.

�� But when he
flickered around the tree and definitively into Potter�s sight, he saw that
Potter was watching him with those
brilliant wild eyes, and moving towards him
with a slow step that suggested he was trying to tame a skittish animal, and
talking to him in that tone.

�� Draco stood
there, staring. He knew that Potter still couldn�t touch him or harm him; if he
hadn�t managed to do it on the night of the full moon, when the werewolf magic
was strongest, then he wouldn�t be able to when they were three weeks away from
the next time he would transform.

�� And there
was something like sympathy in Potter�s look and movements, not the scorn Draco
had expected, or the suspicion Potter would have that Draco was the one doing
the torturing and murdering. Sympathy was like a rare wine at this point.

�� So Draco
let Potter get within five feet of the limits of his astral body, listening all
the time to Potter�s flow of amazing, amusing words.

�� I know
something must be wrong�with you, or around you. I remember the way you looked
when you first arrived last time. You were as thin as a werewolf who�s tried to
starve himself to death, and you had wounds on your
legs and arms that looked like the work of rats.� Potter licked his lips. �I
discounted that when you changed because you clearly had the power to make
yourself look like whatever you wanted. But the scent of blood and death
Hyacinth told me about proves I shouldn�t have. What�s happening to you, Draco?
Is it the Ministry? I gave them a request through Ron and Hermione for Aurors
to investigate Malfoy Manor, but they said they�d been there and that
everything was fine. So clearly, it�s not something it�ll do much good to
contact them about. Either they�re causing it, or they�re ignoring it, or
they�re not seeing it. Which is it? What�s happening to you?�

�� Draco sighed
as the crackling aura of strength flowed over him. It was so thick that he
could have gone to sleep on it like a pillow. It would be wonderful, he
thought, to simply trust in Potter the way his wolves so apparently did and
tell him what was happening. Of course Potter still couldn�t do anything,
because he had given up his political power to hide away in the forest, but it
would be soothing to pour out the words.

�� Draco.�
Potter�s tone had dipped, a choice that surprised
Draco at first, because surely it would make his voice more like a threatening
growl. But seemingly that was the right tone to work with the aura of strength,
because Draco found his perceptions of Potter as a comforter increasing. �I can
help you. I only need a few details. I only need a name. Who is the one doing
this to you? You�re an innocent victim. I can help you. I only need a name.�

�� Nice try,
Potter.� With an effort, Draco pulled himself out of the daze he was falling
into and retreated with a small shake of his head. Then he realized that he
might as well stand in place, since Potter could hardly grab him and shake the
answer out of him, and he raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his
back. �But what makes you think that I�d tell you the name now, when I didn�t
before?�

�� Potter gave
him a smile that would have been gentle, except Draco could see the edge of
teeth in it. �So you do admit that something is happening to you.�

�� Things
happen to different people every day,� Draco said, mentally cursing himself for the slip. After a moment, thinking back over the
different torments that Lucius had subjected him to in the past week, he
decided that the slip was forgivable. He was still doing better than most
people would have under this kind of pressure; he could cling to his pride.
�For example, eating and sleeping and having pointless arguments with their
friends. Dying. Being changed into
werewolves. You know how it is.�

�� Potter�s
eyes flared, and Draco flickered backwards despite himself, until he landed
behind the tree where he�d stood while he was waiting for the rest of the pack
to leave the clearing. He�d forgotten that, of course, no matter how much
control Potter had over his wolf, he�d always had a temper, and his being a
werewolf would aggravate it.

�� Draco, I�m
sorry.� It was sweet to hear an apology, and to hear someone who wasn�t Lucius calling him by his first name. Draco peered
around the tree. Potter slunk towards the tree, his head lowered, his eyes on the ground. Draco stared. He hadn�t realized
that Potter knew what humility meant. �I
only want to know more about it. I don�t want you to put me off with lies when
it�s perfectly obvious that you�re being hurt. Yes, I would have mocked you in
school, but we�ve both changed since then.� Potter took a deep breath, as
though he needed to think about his own words for a moment. �Come out and let
me help you.�

�� Draco
closed his eyes and stood still. A fine trembling was making his astral body
flash and alter in front of his gaze, and he didn�t
want it distracting him while he considered what he should do.

�� Could this
be the help that he had wanted and despaired of finding?

�� But then
the memory of his last conversation with Potter returned to him, and he
brutally trod out the hope as he answered, �You told me that you couldn�t help.
Your political influence is limited, everyone would
know you were a werewolf if you left the forest, and asking the Ministry didn�t
work. Exactly what you do you propose to do?�

�� There was
silence for so long that Draco thought Potter had given up and gone back to sit
in the middle of the clearing and wait for his pack to return. It was better
that way, Draco told the dizzy tide rushing through his mind. There was
absolutely nothing that anyone could do for him. He knew that. He had to start
remembering reality more often.

�� Then Potter
stepped around the tree and stood looking at him.

�� Draco�s
breath caught in a gasp. Potter�s eyes were mostly golden now, and he had his
teeth bared, and his black hair hung shaggy and unclipped to his shoulders,
which Draco hadn�t noticed before, probably because Potter�s head was in such
constant motion. He looked like a beautiful wild beast in the sunlight striping
the tree trunks, and Draco was distantly glad that he�d seen a sight like this
before he died.

�� No one
could give me justice after Greyback bit me,� Potter said, as if that was an
answer to Draco�s question. �The Aurors said he was too dangerous to try
arresting even on a night when it wasn�t the full moon. They sent out hunters for
him, but they were too many and too heavily armed, and so of course Greyback
always heard they were coming and ran away before they managed to corner him.
He slaughtered a few Aurors for the fun of it, and left their corpses as
warnings. Most of the Ministry didn�t know I was a werewolf, but I pleaded for
justice for the people who died next to me that night, and still they couldn�t
do it.� He exhaled, and a growl rode his breath.

�� So I did
the only thing I knew would satisfy me�and the wolf, which it is important to pay attention to and
please. Only you can�t indulge all its desires, because that makes you less
human.� Potter began to pace back and forth, his head swaying restlessly. At
the moment, Draco thought he looked less like a wolf than an angry bear.

�� I don�t
see how this has much relevance to my situation, Potter.� Draco was grateful
that the words came out bored. There were many less complimentary�to himself�tones that they could have taken at the moment, and he
no longer trusted his own reactions around Potter.

�� Potter gave
him a single intense look probably intended to shut him up. Draco raised an
eyebrow, but said nothing, because it seemed the simpler course. Potter gave a
small growl and shook his head, as if he wanted to bite through something. Of
course, he had nothing in his mouth.

�� I�ll get
you justice,� he said. �It doesn�t matter if I have to go around the Ministry
to do it. I�m already permanently outside the Ministry. They feel that they
don�t dare trust any werewolf, no matter how much in control.� He stretched,
and Draco found it easy to imagine fur cloaking him and claws at the ends of
his fingers. �I�ll get you justice,� he repeated, and there was the sound of
ripping flesh in the back of his throat.

�� That will
go against everything that you told me you were working for,� Draco said. His
thoughts were wheeling in mindless circles again, and he was barely conscious
of the words coming out of his throat, except that they were the arguments he
would use against Potter if he truly intended to resist this offer of help.
�You wanted to show the Ministry that you could
become a good little mingling of human and wolf, obedient to all the things
they wanted you to do. And now you�re going to insist that you�re not like that
after all? Now you�re going to give them proof that you�ve gone to the monster
side?�

�� Potter took
a step towards. Draco imagined for a moment that he could feel that hot breath
puffing across his face, and then realized it was only the exhalation of
Potter�s power. He flickered away nonetheless, and ended up standing on the
roots of the tree.

�� My pack is
absolutely and utterly loyal to me,� Potter murmured. �So are my friends. And
would you run to the Ministry to tell on the person who granted you your
justice and your freedom?� He tilted his head, his gaze wise with a darkness
that Draco thought more human than werewolf. �I didn�t think so,� he added when
Draco remained silent.

�� Draco was
caught in a shivering fit which might or might not show in his astral body; he
didn�t know. The important of it was mostly internal.

�� He had
basked in Potter�s power the other day, in the sense that Potter was finally
becoming what he should have been�edged, sharp, dangerous�and that he wielded the wolf as a weapon instead of the
other way around. That had been enough to attract him irrevocably when he was
sure his experience of that power would remain purely abstract.

�� Now here
was an offer to use that power on his behalf.

�� He knew
that part of Potter�s desire to use it for him was because he was a victim.
Potter didn�t have any fond memories of Draco from school, and Draco wasn�t a
werewolf that he could shelter in his pack and make
his subordinate, so it must simply be that he wanted someone to rescue.

�� With the
possibility of real freedom opening up in front of him, though, Draco couldn�t
bring himself to mind the role. His pride had given him nothing so far but a
way to endure death. If Potter could give him life�

�� He willed
his astral body to match the state of his physical body as it was at that
moment. It wouldn�t hurt him, since he was unable to feel anything when he was
spiritual.

�� Potter�s
eyes widened and went on widening until Draco thought he could see straight
through them into the wild soul that Potter carried within him. Then Potter
whirled and sank his fingers into a tree.

�� They
punched straight into the bark and stabbed at least halfway through, making the
tree, a sturdy pine about forty feet high, wobble. It didn�t matter that Potter
lacked claws in human form, Draco thought, watching greedily. He had done this.
And he would probably do and dare worse to get Draco out.

�� Potter
ripped his hand free. The tree listed and sagged. Potter circled and punched it
from the other side, and it fell straight over, crackling and rustling other
branches, creating a hollow boom that echoed through the forest. Draco felt a
vague disappointment; surely the other members of the pack would hear that and
come running back to find out what was wrong with their precious leader. But he
had already taken the gamble and was committed now.

�� He stepped
forwards so that Potter would stop punching trees�as exciting as that was�and
pay attention to him.

�� Potter
immediately stepped up to him and carefully extended his arms to encircle
Draco�s body. Draco couldn�t feel it. That didn�t matter. The very fact of the
gesture made him close his eyes in hope and need. And Potter�s strength flowed
over him like a riptide, a riptide that had decided of its own free will not to
hurt him. Oh, it would hurt other people in his defense, but never him.

�� Who did
this to you?� Potter asked, and this time it sounded as though he could barely
voice the words. His primal urges taking over and strangling him, Draco
supposed.

�� My father,�
Draco said. He had thought it would be hard to confess that truth, since, after all, Potter had even more reason to despise
Draco�s parents than he did to despise Draco. It wasn�t. Instead, the moment
the words began to spill out, Draco found that he couldn�t stop talking. �Dark
magic contaminated him, and he started losing his mental balance. I think he
probably always was a little mad, and the confinement to the Manor made it
worse. He killed Mother, but he uses an illusion to pretend that she�s still
alive when the Aurors visit. And he�s been torturing me because he thinks I�m
somehow sick with Dark magic and the torture will cure me.�

�� Potter
shifted and stepped away from him, his hands still extended in front of him and
his eyes and teeth wickedly bright. �He�s taken your wand?� he asked.

�� Draco
nodded. �And he keeps me naked most of the time, so that I wouldn�t survive
long even if I did try to escape. I use the astral travel to avoid most of the
pain. I�m sure that I would be dead or mad by now if I didn�t.�

�� Potter
ducked his head as though to protect his throat. His eyes were hazy with
thought. �Does anyone have a clue about this?�

�� Draco
smiled, and he knew the smile was bitter, but he thought he had a right to make
it that way. �The Aurors see what they want to see. Lucius is very good at
disguising the fact that he killed Mother and he�s abusing me. They ask a few
questions, laugh and nod when my father says something witty, and then leave.
I�m sure they think that I�m just a sulky young man because I never say
anything that Lucius doesn�t order me to say.�

�� Potter
nodded. �And you�re sure that your father has no chance to recover?�

�� Draco
laughed. �Of course not,� he said. �I think that he would have stopped short of
using rats on me and impaling my knees with diamonds if there was any sanity
left in him.�

�� Potter
stepped close to him again. Draco caught his breath. Potter hadn�t grown
taller�he was still only Draco�s height, or even an inch shorter�but that aura
of strength lent him all the bulk he needed.

�� Can you
last a few more weeks?� Potter asked. �That�s all I�m asking for. No more than
that. I should be able to find a way into the Manor and rescue you before
then.�

�� I don�t
know if I can last,� Draco said. �I don�t know bad the damage is, or whether my
father will hurt me so badly before then that I�ll die.� He found his astral
body trembling and flickering again, which surprised him. He had thought he had
accepted his impending death and no longer feared it.

�� With hope and the possibility of freedom,
fear returns, he reminded himself. He ought to have remembered that from
the war. The times when he was most afraid were the moments when he thought he
might be able to escape the Dark Lord and someone would discover his plans.

�� Of course,
for understandable reasons, he hadn�t thought much of the war in the past few
months.

�� How long
has he been torturing you?� Potter asked. �Doe he heal
you afterwards?�

�� I�ve
rather lost track of time,� Draco said, with a glance that produced a ducked
head and a murmured apology from Potter. �He heals me, but his healing spells
are always less powerful than his Dark magic, and he can�t wait for long before
he has to start torturing me again. He�ll go too far and kill me soon, or my body
will simply give up from all the damage it�s taken.�

�� Potter
growled under his breath, which Draco took for defiance of fate rather than
disagreement, and began pacing back and forth in front of Draco, his head
bowed. Then he looked up and said, �This is a time I could wish the werewolf
magic wasn�t so effective. It sweeps through our bodies like fire when it
touches us and burns out minor magical talents. I can�t talk to snakes any
more, and Celia used to be a Metamorphmagus but lost
it when she changed. If she could still disguise her face effectively, I�d send
her to the Manor and let her spy out a way to get through the wards. At least I
could be sure your father wouldn�t know who she was.�

�� Draco
shuddered. �If my father even suspects
that someone is trying to rescue me, he�ll go more mad
than he already is. I can�t comprehend the level of pain I would be in if that
happens.�

�� I won�t
let that happen.�

�� Potter�s
voice vibrated in his chest, and he had moved up so that his arms encircled Draco�s
ghostly form again. Draco smiled at him, unable to express the gratitude that
pounded in the middle of his chest like a drumbeat.

�� But you�re
right,� Potter said. �It will take a lot of care to get around the wards, and I
suspect that you can�t do anything about them from inside?� Draco shook his
head regretfully, and Potter clucked, as though he suspected his question had
caused Draco pain. �Very well. You�ll tell me about
the weakest places in the wards. I�ll get Hermione to bring me a book on exploiting
weak places like those. It�s Hermione, she�ll be ecstatic to bring me a book. Especially one that isn�t about werewolves.� His voice was
wry. �Lucius would recognize me, Leila has a few old wounds that limit her
motion, and I don�t trust Hyacinth�s control when she�s away from me. It�ll
need to be Celia and Josh who spy out the Manor. Both of them were Muggleborn,
so that increases the chance that your father won�t have any reason to have
seen them before.�

�� What are
you going to do?� Draco breathed.

�� Rescue
you. I told you that.� Potter lowered his head and let his nostrils flare, as
though taking a deep breath of whatever scent he could smell from Draco�s
astral body comforted him. �You should never have had to suffer like this in
the first place, but I can make sure that you don�t have to suffer like this again.�

�� But how
are you going to rescue me?� Draco wished he could hear what the plan was, so
that he could have some hope to cling to as his father�s whip fell on his body
and he recovered from the wounds during the bouts of healing magic.

�� I won�t
know that until I hear about the weak places in the wards.� Potter�s hands
closed in on him, and then drew back again as Potter seemed to remember that he
couldn�t actually touch Draco. �And�if worst comes to worst, there�s one
particular thing that I know would
work, but it would involve a lot of risk to you as well as to us, since Lucius
would have no doubt that we were breaking into the Manor.�

�� Draco shook
his head. �Save that plan for the absolute last option.�

�� We will.
It�s time-dependent.� Potter gave a smile that Draco didn�t understand, and
then it changed to an earnest look and he bent down and looked into Draco�s
eyes from a short distance away. �I need you to do one thing other than tell me
about the weak places in the wards, Draco.�

�� I�ll try,�
Draco whispered. It would be wonderful to have someone to help him against
Lucius, and he almost believed that Potter would be that person, but the fear
of acting against Lucius for himself was still stifling.

�� Endure,�
Potter whispered back. �Last until we can figure out a way. And whether we have
to use the time-dependent plan, or whether we manage to discover something
before then, I promise you, we will
come.�

�� Draco
nodded. �I can do that. I can try.� He hesitated, then asked, �Are you sure
your pack will cooperate with you to save me? Muggleborns wouldn�t have much
reason to like Malfoys.�

�� They do
what I tell them to,� Potter said simply.

�� And it was
the command in those words, the assurance of unquestioned power,
that at last gave Draco faith as well as hope.

*

�� Mangacat: Of course! There wouldn�t be a story if he didn�t
go back.

�� polka dot: I really don�t picture Harry as that small. HBP
said he had grown. And in this case, the aura of strength can make a werewolf
larger. Harry and Hyacinth are the largest werewolves in the pack because they�re
the most powerful.

�� Rin: Thank you!

�� Oh my:
Harry does know now. But since Draco�s appearance changed, he realizes that
Draco can make his astral body look like whatever he wants, and that made him
unsure if Draco was actually being hurt.

�� SP777: Lots
of people seem to find it plenty sadistic already! But there are only three
more chapters�less time for horrific scenes to happen.

�� Thrnbrooke: Until now, Draco believed Harry would make fun
of him. Harry had to make the first move.

�� FallenAngel1129:
Thanks. So do I. Unless there had been actual
description of werewolves in book canon as weird-looking skeletal dogs, I don�t
think myself bound to write them that way.

�� Moonlight
Shadow: Thank you! I promise that the horror doesn�t last forever, and, in
fact, since this will be a relatively short story compared to most I write
(only seven chapters), there are very few scenes of descriptive torture�though plenty
of hints about what Draco suffers.

�� And I love
werewolves/wolves, and have looked forward to writing a story about them for a
long time. I needed an idea I thought was original enough first, though.

�� mrequecky: Wish granted. ;)
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Rejoicing In Their Strength