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Ragnarok	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11309 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ragnarok
- 2-Strike
- 3-Assault
- 4-Counterstrike
- 5-Backblow
- 6-Clash
- 7-Collision
- 8-Blast
- 9-Jab
- 10-Rush
- 11-Unite
- 12-And Conquer
- 3
- 4
- 5
Thank you for all the reviews!

Chapter
Four�Counterstrike

�� Here you
are, Madam Gilfleur.�

�� She had the
ungraciousness to look surprised when Draco handed her the list of ways they
could change the wording of the law about Ministry robes. She stared at it,
stared at him, and then folded it up and tucked it in her robe pocket with a
little shake of her head.

�� I must
admit, I didn�t expect you to fulfill this commission so quickly,� she
murmured.

�� Draco
enjoyed giving her an innocent expression in reaction to her probing gaze, as
if he had no idea why she would be surprised. �You did say that you wanted it
in the day. This is still the same twenty-four-hour period.�

�� Yes, of
course,� she said, and looked at him some more.

�� Draco
turned around with a lift of one eyebrow to pick up the small sandwiches that
the Wizengamot seemed constrained to serve in the morning. It was good enough,
Draco supposed, light bread and light cheese and a light sort of sauce working
together to create a medley of flavors, but he would have preferred something
more substantial.

�� The blow
that hit his elbow a moment later and sent the plate flying out of his hands
was substantial. Draco watched the plate fly, felt the tingling from his elbow,
and then turned around and smiled at the Wizengamot member who had seen fit to
interrupt him.

�Jasper Kellerston, I believe.
Allow me to express my condolences on the loss of your family.�

Draco saw Madam Gilfleur shake her
head from the corner of his eye, but he didn�t see why he should pay attention.
This Kellerston wasn�t being subtle; he wasn�t paying Draco the compliment of
assuming that he could be opposed by someone intelligent. Draco wasn�t
interested in playing up to Kellerston�s fantasies that Draco was afraid of
him. No one with the name of Malfoy should be, because he wasn�t frightening.

Kellerston went still, gaze on his
face. �How much do you know about your father�s activities during the war?� he
demanded.

�More than I�d like,� Draco
admitted, with a delicate shudder. �I had to sit in the front row and watch as
he let the Dark Lord take his wand from him, as he was left out of the
activities planned between the Death Eaters because he had no wand, and as he
had to beg favors from others because he could no longer perform the simplest
spells.�

�Lying,� Kellerston whispered.

�� What? Oh,
yes, he did a lot of that too,� Draco said, and set about picking out another
sandwich, ignoring the way Kellerston fumed at his side. He was the one who had
started this. He shouldn�t have done that without knowing what Draco was like
as an opponent, which was infuriating.

�� I don�t
mean that,� Kellerston snapped. �I mean that you�re lying. You must have known
about your father�s complicity in the raid!�

�� Draco
watched him for a moment more, trying to estimate the level of intelligence in
his eyes and face. He could not be completely
stupid if he had secured a seat on the Wizengamot, especially the
Wizengamot as it had become in the last ten years, and that must mean that he
had hidden resources.

�� But then
Draco saw the sourness, the bitterness, and the desperation in the look
Kellerston cast him, and understood. It didn�t matter how intelligent
Kellerston had once been, how political or diplomatic. Now, he only cared for
the cause he had dedicated himself to. Draco half-shook his head. Fanaticism
had consumed more fine minds than anything else on the planet. The Dark Lord
would have been far more tolerable and a far more brilliant conqueror if he
hadn�t let Mudbloods and Potter obsess him. Draco�s father would have been as
cunning as he�d thought himself if he had made contingency plans in case the
Dark Lord lost, rather than staking everything on one throw of the die.

�� And
Kellerston had lost everything else to revenge. It was one of the reasons that
Draco had made himself outgrow revenge when he started aiming at real power. He
couldn�t afford to turn down empty paths that didn�t lead him where he wanted
to go.

�� I�m afraid
I can�t help you,� Draco said, still lightly. �I know nothing about such a raid.
If my father participated in it, he never told me of it, and he was never tried
for it. What evidence do you have?� This sandwich had pickles on it. Draco made
a mental note to figure out who had made it and compliment them. The Wizengamot
couldn�t be much in the way of offering compliments, given the blandness of so
much of the food.

�� He was a
Death Eater,� Kellerston said.

�� Draco
waited, then said, �And so were many other people. And yet, they couldn�t all
have been involved in the raid on your family.�

�� They could
have been,� Kellerston said, and his eyes flashed with passion. �They hated my
family. Voldemort had a grudge against us.�

�� Draco gave
him a point for bravery; there were plenty of people who wouldn�t say that name
even now. Draco could if he must, but he preferred the name Dark Lord because
it wouldn�t make people flinch as much, and it was useful for confusing the
cretins about how much he believed of the former conqueror�s agenda.

�� Voldemort
never sent his whole army anywhere at any time,� Draco said. �He had too many
things that he wanted them to accomplish, and he knew better than that. If the
Aurors had been properly organized during that period, they could have decimated
a crowd of Death Eaters with one well-placed raid.�

�� So you admit
that you know how Voldemort�s mind worked.� Kellerston leaned even closer, and
a breath rich and warm with scents gusted over Draco�s face. Draco frowned. It
seemed that he had a rival for the sandwiches with pickles.

�� Of
course,� he said. �I�ve already admitted that I was right there to watch my
father, and I was Voldemort�s personal torturer for a time, because he thought
it was the best use he could put me to. I had no stomach for killing, you see.�
He wiped his fingers on the nearby napkin and reached for another plate.

�� Kellerston
seized his arm in a grip hard enough to be annoying. �Then you must know about
the grudge he had against my family.�

�� I can�t
remember him ever mentioning it,� Draco said, and watched the place where the
fingers were denting his skin. He began to count seconds in his head. Yes, he
no longer took revenge, but that didn�t mean he would not get his own back for
insults like this. The difference was that he no longer pursued grudges across
years, and he no longer required his victims to know that he was the one who had hurt them.

�� You have to,� Kellerston said. �Death
Eater.�

�� Draco
sighed. This was getting tiresome. The Wizengamot had its complement of fools,
as he had noted to himself yesterday, and there were some who could be stirred
up by hearing a repetition of that old name, which they would not be if they
were simply left to ignore his past and welcome him among themselves.

�� If you say
so,� he murmured in a bored voice, while he caught Kellerston�s eyes and held
them, and whispered to the magic beneath the surface of his skin.

�� Ordinarily,
powerful as he was, he would still have needed a wand to cast this curse, but
because Kellerston was holding him and had been for more than a minute now,
that connection would carry the weight of Draco�s magic. He reached out
questing fingers and ran them lightly over Kellerston�s inner organs, playing
them like a pianist searching for the right keys, checking to see if the
instrument was in tune.

�� There was a
defect, yes, and it was in the walls of the heart. Draco used one of the
tendrils of his magic to poke lightly at it and accelerate the damage. Then he
pulled his power back, all the while keeping a bland smile on his face.

�� Kellerston�s
heart would not fail tomorrow, or probably even in the next year. But it would
fail faster than it would have otherwise. Draco had taken away an unknown
portion of his life, hurt him in ways that would ultimately punish him far more
than a simple reply to an insult or a stripping of his status would, and by
such a method that Draco�s own interference was undetectable.

�� If you say
so,� he repeated more loudly, when Kellerston showed no sign of letting go of
him. �But you will have to speak more words than that soon, because the meeting
is about to begin.� And he stepped away from Kellerston, letting everyone see
how tight his grip remained, how punishing, on someone who had never offered
him a moment�s danger.

�� Kellerston
still took an instant to respond when he realized what Draco was doing. He
seemed content to stare at him with burning eyes and clench his fingers down
further, squeezing and pulling as though he wanted to yank the skin away from
Draco�s muscles and bones. Then he tore his hand free with an equally
ungraceful gesture and stalked away.

�� Draco
smiled after him. Some of the stares turned to him for that, and Draco knew they were wondering if he was simple.
Well, the fools would be, and there might be more of them in the Wizengamot
than he had originally counted on. The more intelligent ones would be wondering
what revenge he had come up with.

�� Gilfleur
was at his side a moment later, lowering her voice to a hiss. �Do you know what
you�re doing?�

�� Yes, in
fact,� Draco said, and changed his smile a shade or two for her. She might like
the reassurance. �I see no reason to let Kellerston�s grudge continue
unacknowledged when you were the one who told me about him in the first few
minutes after I was initiated.�

�� Gilfleur
gave him a thoughtful glance. �So you prefer to acknowledge reality?�

�� Yes,�
Draco said. �If only because it makes it more difficult to change it to my own
ends if I�m ignoring it.�

�� Gilfleur
laughed a little at that, and Draco changed his smile again, so that it would
be wry. He had honestly warned her. If she didn�t want to think about how Draco
might be hunting for the power to change reality, that was up to her.

*

�� Harry slept
that night and woke in a fever that burned away all the stupid nightmares about
what kind of life he�d had in the last ten years, or the ritual that had caused
that life. He paced around his room, ignoring the tray of food that the
house-elves employed by the Wizengamot had brought, ignoring the fact that the
fire was smoldering. He could build that up by hand. Or he could let it run out
and then light a scrap of wood on fire to give him light if he wanted.

�� If he
wanted.

�� Now that
he�d met Malfoy, now that he�d felt what Malfoy could do, it seemed as though
someone had led him out from a cage where he�d been trapped and given him the
keys so that he could never be caught again. He�d spent so long thinking of his
power as a constraint, and when he envisioned things being different, it was
thinking of himself without magic or thinking of himself as somehow back to his
normal level of power. What else was possible?

Now he wondered what would have
happened if he�d been the proper subject of the ritual, or managed to enter at
such a moment that it worked as it was supposed to. What if he had become that
powerful? What if he could match Malfoy in level of both strength and control?

The fantasies were wild and new,
and dashed through his head like sweet wine, making it spin. Harry had to sit
down on his bed and bow his head into his hands so that he wouldn�t fall.

�� They
weren�t fantasies he�d ever had before. Why would he? Besides the undeniable
nature of his magic�and he had done everything he could at first to deny it,
conducting test after test in a frantic attempt to find something creative his magic could do�there was the fact that he
didn�t want power over others. He had accepted the job with the Wizengamot in
desperation because at least that way, he was still living out part of the
dream that he had entertained when he became an Auror. He was still helping.

�� What if he
didn�t help?

�� It had
never been an option. That was why the fantasies. That was why the fever, and
the dizzying feeling that he was both free of a cage and standing at the edge
of a precipice. What if he changed and
became something else?

�� For years,
he had assumed that the ritual had worked in him such profound changes that he
would never alter again before his death. And with the magic set to kill him so
soon, that wasn�t the stupid, melodramatic statement that it would have been in
most other contexts.

�� Harry
tossed back his head and laughed. Yesterday, he wouldn�t have been able even to
think that any of his thoughts were stupid and melodramatic. He would have
thought of them as Very Serious Thoughts and been shocked at anyone, like
Malfoy, who might have suggested otherwise.

�� But now�

�� Now it was
changing, and Harry didn�t know that he wanted to go as far in the change as
Malfoy apparently had�caring only about power, attaining a level of control
over that power which meant he was as dangerous as a polished knife�but it
offered him options.

�� There was
never any doubt that he would accept Malfoy�s offer. Really, he already had.
They would work together. Harry had access to the rituals that Malfoy needed
and probably more that he�d never heard of. As always, the Wizengamot had
showered him with all the books he�d asked for, secure in the knowledge that he
could never use the magic for any of the spells in them, simple or complex.

�� Now he just
had to wait for Malfoy to contact him again�

�� Harry paused
and cocked his head to the side. Why did he
have to wait for that?

�� If he could
work out a way around the destructive nature of his magic, he could be the one
to contact Malfoy. It would be exciting, fun, new, an adventure, since so far
he had lain back and given up before the inevitability of it all. Or he could
find some way that would let him communicate the message even if his magic
wouldn�t allow it. He couldn�t cast a Patronus now, but there were other
methods.

�� He turned
around and began to study the stone wall above the nearest fireplace. The light
was too dim, though, and in irritation, he walked over and knelt beside it,
beginning to build the fire up. The skills he had learned like this might not
be useless, he thought then. Perhaps he could help Malfoy gather ingredients,
at least, or prepare the practical aspects of the ritual that Malfoy might not
want to trust anyone else with.

�� His door
swung open.

�� Harry
finished building up the fire, ignoring the sudden flinch that ran down his
shoulders. He had a perfect right to do this. Why not? It wasn�t unusual for
him to be kneeling here doing this when someone from the Wizengamot came in.

�� But he
clenched his fists anyway as he stood up and turned around to face the
Wizengamot member behind him, because now he had a secret to protect, one that
he knew they wouldn�t approve of. Weapons weren�t supposed to have wills of
their own.

�� Melisande
Gilfleur stood behind him, studying him with narrowed eyes. Harry blinked back
at her. She wasn�t one of the ones who usually came to him. When the Wizengamot
made decisions as a whole, they sent Risidell or one of the younger members who
wasn�t as intimidated by him. And he didn�t think he had ever killed a personal
enemy for her. There had been the first visit from her when she was initiated,
the inevitable demand for a demonstration of his power, and then one or two
times when she had accompanied someone else and stood there stiffly, arms
folded into her sleeves, staring at him. Harry had once thought that she had to
fight to preserve the impression of him as a mindless weapon in her
perceptions, rather than someone she was frightened of.

�� Well, in that she shows good sense, Harry
thought, and let his power rise shimmering to the surface of his skin, the way
Malfoy had done yesterday, as he stared at her. �Yes, madam?� he asked at last,
when it seemed that it would be up to him to make the first move, because she
was never going to say anything.

�� I wish to
give you a warning,� Gilfleur said.

�� Harry stared
despite himself. Had she found out what he plotted with Malfoy already?

�� His magic
stirred as he began to think of killing her. Harry swallowed through a dry
throat and held it down, though that meant that flaring pain ran through the
bones of his back a moment later. He didn�t want to simply do that. He never
wanted killing to be the first thing he thought of, both because of his old
lingering thoughts about helping people and because�well, Malfoy was promising
him something more diverse. Harry ought to get used to thinking of that as it
were real.

�� What�s the
warning?� he asked.

�� Gilfleur
walked forwards and stopped only when, Harry thought, she physically couldn�t
force herself any closer. Her eyes were intense. �There is a new member of the
Wizengamot whom you may have to kill soon,� she said.

�� Harry stood
up a bit. Malfoy was the only new member of the Wizengamot initiated in the
past three months. But he might still be leaping to conclusions. Gilfleur had
been a member for years and so might consider anyone �new� who had less
seniority than she did.

�� Yes?� he
asked. �Which one? And why?�

�� Draco
Malfoy.� Gilfleur�s hand played with the edge of her shawl. �I had thought that
he was a safe prospect,� she said softly, as if to herself. �Why would he not
be? He had worked to achieve this seat, and Risidell trusted him, and his past
meant that he would be easy enough to control if he began to get too
independent. But it seems that he does not consider himself bound by the laws
that constrain others.�

�� Harry let
his clenched fists relax. She still considered him enough of a weapon to speak
freely in front of him, because she did not imagine that he could have an
interest or intervene in any way in the internal politics of the Wizengamot.
Harry was just a tool, after all, who fit the hand that picked it up and did
what it was told.

�� To be fair, Harry told himself after a
moment�s consideration, I don�t know that
I would have thought of myself any other way, before yesterday. I didn�t dream
of intervening in their quarrels because I didn�t care.

�� And the
most valuable thing he could do now was to preserve their impression of him as
being that way. If he showed that he was interested, that he was powerful, he
would learn less. He made himself look indifferently at her. �Am I to execute
him today?� he asked in a bored tone.

�� Gilfleur,
startled from her musings, blinked at him. �No. Of course not.�

�� Harry
nodded. �Then go away. I�d like to finish this book I was reading.� He flopped
down into his usual chair in front of the fire and picked up a book at random.
It was one about rituals, so it might provide him some useful information, but
it had seemed as far a chance as all the others yesterday. He buried his nose
in it.

�� Gilfleur
drew in a breath that might have been irritation or outrage, but in the end,
she seemed to remind herself that it was useless to confront someone who was
that indifferent and bustled away. Harry didn�t put down the book until long
after he heard the wards lock into place. He could think as well while staring
blankly at a printed page, and they might be watching him now that Gilfleur had
come in by herself.

�� So. They
would want him to kill Malfoy. Harry didn�t know what Malfoy had done yet, but
he felt a mild annoyance that it was apparently something that made the others
wary and suspicious enough to decide that he ought to be got rid of. Harry was
a novice to the games of intrigue, at first because he had refused to play them
when he was an Auror and then because he had no need to, and he had still done
better than Malfoy.

�� But Harry
was still going to protect him, because that was the same as protecting his
secret and his chance of freedom.

�� He gave up
on the idea of using his magic to carve letters out of the stone above the
fireplace, as he�d been half-planning. They would be watching him now, yes, and
they would notice any sort of use of magic. He waited, instead, until the
house-elf that regularly brought his meals appeared, and then stood and walked
over to it as it was setting the tray of sandwiches on his table.

�� The
house-elf immediately turned to him, eyes big and wet and ears trembling. The
elves feared him more than the people did. Harry thought that was because more
of them had the ability to sense his magic.

�� Yesterday,
that would have made him feel awful and like he should crouch and make himself
smaller. Today, it made him smile. There were other possibilities. He could act in a way that would cause
people to fear him, and he might not have to feel bad about that.

�� Maybe. He
hadn�t yet decided when it came to that.

�� I want you
to carry a message for me,� he said, deciding to make it a command so that the
house-elf couldn�t slip around the edges of the order with any excuse or
pleading that it only served the Wizengamot. If he acted as though he were the
master, he doubted that the elf would resist.

�� Sure
enough, it didn�t, bowing and whimpering something about, �Yes, Master Potter.�

�� Harry
stared down at it, feeling as though something had woken from a long sleep in
his head and stomach and stretched rippling dark wings. He didn�t know what to
name it, but he knew he liked the feel of it.

�� Licking his
lips and deciding that he wouldn�t think right now about whether it was the
elf�s submission or the name of �Master� or something else that had pleased
him, Harry said, �I want you to carry a message to the house-elf who serves the
new Wizengamot member, Draco Malfoy. You�re not to tell anyone else the
message. Otherwise�� He lifted his hand and gathered the magic behind his palm.
A yearning feeling spiraled through him, drawing his veins taut. The magic
longed to be used.

�� The elf
nearly fainted, and then tugged its ears hard enough to topple it from its feet
anyway. �I is sorry, Master Potter, I is sorry,� it whispered. �Yes, please,
let me live.�

�� Harry
pulled his magic back, which made his skin tighten and ache, but he could
ignore that easily as he said, �Tell him that Madam Gilfleur came to me and
warned me that he was getting too independent and I might need to kill him. Can
you say that?�

�� The
house-elf�s mouth fell open, but it bobbed its head again, murmured, �Yes, yes,
sorry,� and then vanished.

�� Harry went
back to his chair and thought for a moment. How did he feel about that,
wielding his power as a club to make someone else obey his will�a magical
creature of the kind that, he knew from her letters, Hermione was still working
to free?

�� He didn�t
know yet.

*

�� pittwitch:
Glad you liked it.

�� SP777: I
don�t know about better. Then again,
I would guess that Harry, especially, doesn�t have much basis for comparison.

�� thrnbrooke,
SP777 wants to know why you were gone.

�� anonanon:
Thanks so much!

�� polka dot: So
Harry is beginning to assume.

�� angelmuziq:
Thanks! Although Harry doesn�t know how he wants to change the world yet and
Draco just knows that he wants to be in control.

�� Not so much
an evil as simply enemies within the Wizengamot.

�� thrnbrooke:
Thanks! Glad you were blown away.

�� W�lkchen:
Harry may not die, but I don�t know that he will be a balance to Draco either.

�� Harry is
now beginning to wonder the same thing about his magic.

�� mj11490:
Thanks!
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Ragnarok