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The Same Species As Shakespeare	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16108 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Five�Masters
of Their Fates

�� It�s
grander than I expected,� Potter said, craning his neck back to stare at the
ceiling.

�� Draco
busied himself with brushing imaginary soot from his robes; the house-elves
kept the Manor�s fireplaces free from any such inconveniences, but Potter could
not be expected to know that. �Some of my ancestors had rather a fetish for
grandeur, yes,� he said in a bored tone. He sneaked a look sideways at Potter
and rolled his eyes. The fool was still gaping
at the ceiling, tilting his head back until Draco knew he would fall over and
slam his head into the mantle. �I would have done a better job if I had
designed this house.�

�� Potter
turned towards him, shaking his head like a Crup awakened from a dream. �I
don�t know about that,� he said. �A vault like this is impressive in its own
way.� He gestured again to the ceiling of the entrance hall, which rose above
them in a perfectly smooth silvery dome, without ripple or mosaic to soften it.
�And I can see the influence in the ceiling of that hall at Palliser House.�

�� Draco
paused for a moment. To be honest, he had not expected Potter to be that
observant, or to have learned as much about architecture as it seemed he had,
paying attention to Draco�s job.

�� Still, being
observant about architecture didn�t mean he was observant about anything else.
Draco smiled at Potter and watched his face soften. He never noticed the
emotions lurking behind Draco�s smile, that was clear.

�� We haven�t
yet discussed where you should stay at night,� Draco said, and opened the door
between two nearby pillars. Potter blinked and followed him through with a few
wondering glances at the doorframe. At least he hadn�t noticed that, Draco
thought with a sense of relief he immediately had to sneer at. What, was he
actually worried Potter would see the
trap closing in around him before he was snared? Don�t be ridiculous. You know Potter better than that. �I can
conjure a second bed in my room, there�s enough space for that, but I don�t
know if you would feel comfortable sleeping next to me.�

�� He lowered
his voice as he spoke the words and had the satisfaction of seeing the alert
turn of Potter�s head, as he scanned the room for possible threats, falter. He
swallowed and then looked back at Draco. �I�I wouldn�t mind that,� he said. �It
would be more effective at preventing an attack in your own chambers than my
guarding you outside the door would.�

Chambers?
Really, Potter. I suppose Granger taught you that word specifically for the
purpose of spending time with people smarter than yourself. �That�s true,�
Draco said. �But we still don�t know how the attacker slipped into the Palliser
party.�

�That�s true,� Potter echoed. He
folded his arms over his chest, seizing on the topic to distract himself from
speculations about where he should sleep and what, Draco thought, he might
sleep in. �We�ll have to talk to Tudor Palliser. If your imitator received an
invitation for the party, at least we have a name, even though it�s likely to
be a false one. If he didn�t, then we�ll learn something about his
ward-breaking skills.�

Draco felt a whisper of disquiet
for a moment, but he managed to banish it. Malfoy Manor had wards that would
make Palliser House moan and collapse under the weight of the magic. No
imposter would find him here, which meant he could concentrate on torturing
Potter. �Better to let someone else question him,� he said. �He�s so shy of
your fame that he nearly fainted when I suggested inviting you.�

�� Yeah, that
happens a lot.�

�� Potter
sounded resigned. Draco wondered how long it would be before Potter relaxed
enough to let his real, arrogant self out. Maybe Draco should give him some
hints that hearing Potter talk about his fame would not weary him.

�� I reckon
it does,� he said. �But you must know you deserve your reputation.�

�� Potter gave
him an irritated glance. Draco prevented himself from frowning, but it was a
near thing. What had he done wrong?

*

�� Harry had
felt discomfort from the moment he stepped through the fireplace. The manor
houses Malfoy built were obviously nothing compared to the one he�d been born
in. Harry tried to recall the memories of how this place had looked the last
time he�d been in it, during the Battle�walls shattered like eggshells, ceilings
open to the sky, fire and smoke gripping every piece of expensive furniture�but
it appeared to have been repaired exactly as if it had never been damaged. Of
course, the Malfoys probably still had the original plans from which their
ancestors had constructed it.

�� And then
Malfoy had to start talking about his fame.

�� Harry
accepted his fame in the same way he would have accepted an ugly disfigurement:
it was there and he had better use it for anything it was good for, but having
people regard it as the most important thing about him got old very quickly. He
had assumed Malfoy would ignore his reputation out of sheer arrogance and
obsession with himself. It was disheartening to realize that he wouldn�t have
that escape.

�� I�ll talk
to Palliser tomorrow,� he said, determined to change the subject.

�� Malfoy
smirked at him, the temporary tightness around his temples vanishing. �I don�t
think you�ll have time,� he said. �Tomorrow I have a meeting with an old and
valued client, and I�ll need your company at the office. Some other Auror will
have to fill the plebeian role you�re planning to take on.� He picked an
imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder. �Besides, won�t delegating someone to
interview Palliser be fairly easy for the Head Auror to think of?�

�� Harry
exhaled in annoyance. Yes, of course Kingsley would think of that. Harry had
grown too used to being in the thick of this case, that was all, to the point
that sending someone else to handle even the minor details made him twitchy.

�� Kingsley would
say that was a sign he should enjoy his holiday with the Malfoys. But Harry
carefully turned his mind away from the conversation in Kingsley�s office, when
Kingsley had seriously tried to argue him into giving up the duty of guarding
Malfoy to someone else, or even several people. He was worried about Harry�s
�obsession,� as he chose to term it. Harry hated rowing with his friends. He
had something else to worry about; there was always something else to worry about, in this job. �Will your
father mind that I�m staying here?�

�� Malfoy
raised his eyebrows. �I doubt it. He stays in the western wing most of the
time, which is a distance from my rooms�and yours.� He chuckled, as though
Harry�s sleeping in his rooms pleased him, though he�d been the one to suggest
the course. Harry worried the corner of his lip thoughtfully. He obviously
didn�t know everything about Malfoy, especially about his quirks.

�� But that
was all right. It only made sense that Malfoy would act differently in private
life than he would in front of the cameras.

�� Of course,
Severus might object,� Malfoy added, pulling Harry�s mind abruptly back to the
conversation.

�� Harry
stared. �Fuck!� he said. �I never
would have come here if I�d known.� To call his relationship with Snape
strained was like saying volcanoes got a bit hot sometimes. Snape had played an
integral role in the war, but all his actions were ones that, revealed, might
bring the vengeance of Death Eaters or disappointed Voldemort supporters down
on him. He had been given the Order of Merlin, First Class, in a private
ceremony with the Minister, but Harry knew that wasn�t enough for him. He had
told Harry bluntly the last time they�d met that Harry didn�t deserve any
public honor, that it should have gone to someone who did more than cast a few
curses at Voldemort, and that Harry was still a careless child who had no idea how
much Snape had sacrificed for him. Snape had fulfilled the debt he thought he
owed Lily and Dumbledore to protect Harry, so from now on he would hate him in
peace.

�� Malfoy
chuckled. �Do all Aurors learn skills in swearing when they�re admitted to the training
program?�

�� Harry
flushed. He had not, in fact, meant to swear aloud in front of Malfoy like
that. He cleared his throat. He wanted Malfoy to see him as sophisticated and
calm, a man of the world�as he had felt he was, until he stepped into the Manor
and began insulting the d�cor, the taste of the Malfoy family, and the man who
probably still served as Malfoy�s mentor. �No, that was my own stupidity. Are
you, er, sure you want me here, if Professor Snape would object?�

�� Of
course,� Malfoy said, leading the way up a spiral staircase that twisted so
tightly Harry was amazed Malfoy could walk up it without getting a broken neck.
�It�s not his house, and he�s only a guest here.�

�� An older
guest than I am,� Harry pointed out quietly. Malfoy would like courtesy to his
Potions professor. And it was professional for an Auror be polite to everyone
involved in a case like this. That last reason was the most important, of
course, and should have come first in his mind.

�� Without
benefit of the ring, his conscience could still sound like Hermione. Are you sure you can maintain a professional
demeanor in regards to this case, Harry? Might it not be better to back up and
let another Auror handle this?

�� But Malfoy said he trusted me to protect him
because I�d already done it. Better for him to have me around, with all my
false steps and gaffes and leering, than no protection at all.

�� I treat
all my guests the same,� Malfoy said, and then stopped not far from the top of
the staircase to fling open a door that looked to be made of a solid sheet of
jade. Harry doubted that even the Malfoys could afford such luxury, though. Probably. �You have as much right to sit
at my table and eat my food as he does.�

�� Do all
your guests sleep in your room?� Harry blurted and then wanted to cover his
mouth and die of mortification in the same instant, though he could only do the
first.

*

�� Draco
turned to Potter and made sure the smile on his face was calm and coaxing.
Potter�s inquiries had thrown him off-balance at first, but beneath them was
the man Draco had known was there, honest and forthright and unable to lie to
save his life. Such a man could be good prey, but never a challenge to the
world of lies Draco would escort him into.

�� Of course
not,� Draco said. �But Severus never asked such a question. You did.� He
lowered his eyes and peered at Potter from under the lashes, as if he were too
shy to state what he was thinking.

�� Potter
smiled back. His cheeks were still a brilliant red, but the overall look was
not unattractive, Draco thought critically. He should have had someone trim
that hair and put permanent enchantments on it long ago; he should have emphasized
the scar instead of trying to hide it. Ducking under his fringe made him
resemble a nineteenth-century urchin caught out and asked to recite the
alphabet. His eyes were his best natural feature, and he insisted on hiding
them, too, under thick glasses. Hadn�t he ever heard of an Eagle�s Sight Charm?
That would have corrected his vision as well as made his eyes shine.

�� But he doesn�t care about such things. He
would probably assume it was poncey to care about them.

Draco�s tactics were all the more likely
to score points, then, when he said, as if in a tone of soft wonder, �I�m
surprised that you still have so many problems with your fame. Looking at your
face, why does anyone remember to look at your scar?�

�� Potter
looked as though he didn�t know whether to be suspicious, surprised, flustered,
or pleased. He cleared his throat several times before he muttered, �My face
has become just as familiar as my scar with the stories in the Prophet this last year.�

�� I don�t
know about that,� Draco said, but Potter settled on a suspicious look, and
Draco decided to back off for now. �Why don�t you come into my room and we can
decide where to put the second bed?�

�� Potter
stepped through the door. Draco leaned against it, his eyes lingering on
Potter�s arse for a long moment before he lifted his head to watch the other
man�s reaction to the room.

�� It
glittered on every level. Narcissa had decorated the room in a time when she
favored strong jewel colors, and Draco, initially skeptical, had come to
applaud his mother�s taste. Green walls, blue curtains, and a silvery
four-poster bed with black curtains went together instead of clashing, though
how she had done it Draco never knew. He was better at choosing colors for
walls and ceilings than he was at choosing them for furniture, and he had
become good at clothing only with his mother�s long and patient instruction.

�� It looks
so alive,� Potter muttered, and then turned and faced Draco with a concerned
expression. �Are you sure that you want to put another bed in here? It might
spoil the symmetry of the room.�

�� How amusing. He thinks I live every part of
my life by the rules of architecture. Draco shook his head. �Company never
ruins the symmetry. As for the colors, I won�t allow Gryffindor red and gold,
but feel free to choose whichever else you like.�

�� Colors
imitating yours are fine,� Potter muttered, and Draco drew his wand and
conjured a bed without pausing. That was another useful trick he�d learned
during his months among the Death Eaters with Severus, when even Severus didn�t
care where he slept as long as he did. After a few glances back and forth from
his bed to Potter�s, he adjusted the colors so that the blank tablet of the new
bed became a replica of his own.

�� I�m rather
tired,� he said, and yawned. He was, but the real reason he wanted to sleep was
that he could feel his rising eagerness to torment Potter, and he didn�t want
to go too far, too fast, in one night. �I hope you don�t mind my going to sleep
on you right away. And I usually sleep naked, so�� He let his voice trail off
and looked at Potter expectantly.

�� Potter
stared at him for a few moments, then flushed and turned away. Draco felt a
stab of both relief and disappointment. Potter had a slower brain than he
expected, or was more easily stunned by the splendors of life in Malfoy Manor.
Draco would have given much to have a worthier opponent.

�� But then,
wasn�t that the whole point of Potter? That he was ordinary under the mystique,
but Draco was one of the few people who could see that?

�� Draco
stripped off his clothes, making sure to stumble once or twice in his
�weariness,� just to watch Potter�s reaction. His back twitched with suppressed
longing to turn around, but he didn�t do it. Draco hung his robes leisurely
over the board at the end of the bed�one of the house-elves would find and
clean them before morning�and then climbed into the sheets, sighing in pleasure
as the velvety cloth closed around him.

�� Good
night, Potter,� he muttered, closing his eyes.

�� Potter�s
reply was a bit of mumbled breathiness that could have meant anything. Draco
was more interested in the sense of him he experienced just before he fell
asleep, a strongly pounding heart and a buzzing warmth of blood in his body,
all of it oriented towards him. Potter wasn�t good at disguising his interest
or his attention to Draco.

�� Imagine how open the defeat will be on his
face, Draco thought, and fell asleep.

*

�� Harry
waited until he heard the regular sound of Malfoy�s breathing before he tiptoed
over to his bed. It felt real and solid enough when he ran his hand across it,
and anyway, he didn�t think Malfoy would have conjured one that would tip him
out on the floor or vanish halfway through the night. He would have stayed
awake to enjoy the show if he had.

�� But Harry
could hardly bring himself to sit on it. He was still in a daze that he was
here, in Malfoy Manor, of all places, a few feet from the man he�d spent the
past five years dreaming about, investigating, and defending from his friends.

�� He looked
towards Malfoy. The room had several large windows, but a charm was in effect
that Harry recognized from the holding cells at the Ministry; it dimmed light
to a level that would permit one to navigate through a dark room with
difficulty. The Ministry used such tactics to keep the criminals disoriented
when Aurors or Hit Wizards came to visit them. Here, Harry supposed, Malfoy
simply didn�t want to be bothered by the moon or stars, or maybe the sunset, if
he was decadent and went to bed early.

�� I don�t know if he�s decadent. I don�t know
anything about what he�s like in private.

�� Harry
didn�t need the ring or Hermione to let him know that was a problem, if he was
going to spend the next several days around Malfoy.

�� After
several stumbles on the corners of furniture and attempts to keep his muffled
cursing quiet, he managed to find a door that led into a loo, fancier than the
one in his own home but recognizable. After he�d relieved himself, he used a
toothbrush and put on a pair of pyjamas from a bag he�d thrown together hastily
on a side-trip to his home from St. Mungo�s. He�d returned as quickly as he
could to accompany Malfoy through the Floo to the Manor, but Malfoy had still
managed to raise one perfect eyebrow and make Harry feel like a fool.

�� This is a job, just a job, like hundreds of
others you�ve done. Harry ran a hand through his hair and stared at his
face in the mirror; the loo had hidden lights that had come on when he opened
the door. Remember how nervous you were
when you first ventured out of the Ministry after training? And then you got
sick on Stokesbury�s feet because you couldn�t calm your stomach down? This is
nothing to that.

�� Harry gave
his reflection a reminiscent smile. Yes, chasing an assassin all over
Stokesbury�s confusing home, with the pure-blood wizard bellowing at him to
mind the lamps and the curtains, was more difficult than this.

�� He wouldn�t
hope too much. He wouldn�t think that just because Malfoy trusted Harry to
protect him, that meant he wanted to go to bed with him. Or even that he wanted
to hold his hand and touch him the way he had in Palliser House before the
attack happened. For all Harry knew, Malfoy only flirted like that in public
where there were other eyes to give him a charge.

�� Harry shut
the door of the loo, dimming the lights as well, and stumbled back to the new
bed. He only hit one chair with his thigh, and Malfoy�s breathing never
changed.

*

�� A
tremendous crash shattered Lucius�s sleep. War-trained reflexes grabbed him,
and he was on his feet and halfway across the room, wand in his hand and robe
tucked around his waist out of the way, before he opened his eyes.

�� He kept
moving, because he heard the squeals of terrified house-elves. For such sounds
to penetrate this far into the western wing, a huge object must have fallen.
Perhaps the chandelier in Abraxas�s Hall, which Narcissa had always told him
had a weak chain.

�� But the
moment he stepped through the entrance that connected the western wing to the
great hall in the center of the Manor, he realized something quite different
was happening.

Draco ran frantically from the
arched doorway that led to the eastern wring, then spun on his heel with a
graceful ease Lucius was proud to see he hadn�t forgotten in the easy years
since the war and shot a curse behind him. The curse hit an alabaster carving
of a dragon instead and shattered it. Lucius frowned. Draco would never be so
careless as to break the treasures of the house, and he had a better aim.

Then Harry Potter hurtled out of
the doorway, and Lucius realized the man who�d flung the curse wasn�t Draco at
all. His son preferred �subtle� revenges on Potter to hurting him with magic,
and he�d spent a great deal of time meditating on them. This must be the
imposter who had attacked at Palliser House earlier that evening.

Except that Lucius had no idea how
he�d got through the wards, which were attuned to the Malfoys alone. Even
guests like Severus had to have special permission to pass through them.

Potter leaped across the flagstone
floor towards the intruder, using strides that his training in the Aurors must
have taught him; they looked more like the kind of steps one would have used on
stairs. The imposter recoiled, a look of fear distorting his Draco-like
features, and bent to one side. Potter�s spell landed beside him and shattered
stone. Potter showed no sign of disappointment that his magic had failed, his
face locked in the cool mask Lucius remembered from the last few battles of the
war. He whipped his wand in a circle instead, a complex, sonorous chant parting
his lips.

�� The
imposter leaped backwards, swearing. His voice was eerily similar to Draco�s,
pronouncing his vowels with that clipped drawl Narcissa had also had.

�� The thought
of his dead wife, and what she would have said to see him standing here and
staring like an idiot when his home had been invaded, made Lucius shake his
head and step forwards to help.

�� His motion
drew the intruder�s attention to him. He snarled, his hands clasping his wand
so tightly for a moment that Lucius had some hope he would snap it. Lucius
aimed at his knees to disable him. He wanted this one alive.

�� Potter
finished his chant in that moment, and a silvery loop of light swung out from
the tip of his wand, aimed at the man�s waist.

�� The
imposter shrieked in fury and frustration, and vanished, Apparating at last.
Potter managed to snap back his spell before it touched Lucius, but he had to
wrestle with it for a moment before he could tuck the power back into his wand.
Then he blinked and shook his head.

�� How did he
get in?� Lucius asked, deciding that was the more pressing question at the
moment than why Potter was here.

�� I don�t
know.� Potter�s voice contained several layers of crushed emotions, but he
differed from his wartime self in one respect after all: he was controlling
them. �I recognized the bloodline wards when I followed your son into the
house, Mr. Malfoy. The likeliest explanation is an unknown relative.�

�� Lucius
nodded. Some years ago he would have said that that was impossible; Malfoys
existed only in the direct line. But Narcissa�s death had taught him how blind
he might really be, how little his knowledge really encompassed outside the
immediate domain of the Manor. �And why are you here?�

�� Potter
bowed his head and ran his hand through his hair. �Your son invited me to stay
the night,� he said quietly. �And longer than that. He wanted Auror protection
after an attack he suffered tonight, but I�m the only Auror he would trust.�

�� No, you�re the only Auror he wants,
Lucius thought. But that halts here and
now. �Have you considered what other motives my son might have for inviting
you here, Potter?� he asked.

Potter stared at him keenly for a
moment. Then he said, �I think he�s grown past his schoolboy days. I trust him
not to deliberately hurt me.�

�� He does
want to hurt you,� Lucius said harshly. He disliked being this honest to anyone
who was not Draco or Severus, but the situation warranted it. �He�s been
dreaming for years about how to get back at you. Half his fame is based on
attempts to get you to notice him.�

�� Potter
paused. Lucius waited for an outburst, a demand for further details, a laughing
denial that anyone Potter considered so far beneath him would find a way to
attract his attention�any of those.

�� Instead,
Potter said gently, �I understand the loss of your wife has been very difficult
for you to bear, Mr. Malfoy. But simply because you�ve chosen the life of a
recluse instead of one in the world as Draco has, that doesn�t mean he�s wrong,
or wants to hurt me.�

�� Draco�s poisoned the well, Lucius thought.
Probably convinced him I�m mad. Well,
he had not expected this to be so easy. He tucked his wand into his sleeve and
said, �You are welcome for all of me. I will begin the genealogical research
necessary to track down the relative who might have done this. I suggest you
stay out of Professor Snape�s way.�

�� And he
turned and went into the southern wing, where the vast libraries of the Manor
stood, not caring to look again on Potter�s pitying expression.

�� Important Notice: I will be moving at the
end of this week (the 11^th�15^th of August) and may not
have Internet access again for up to two weeks. I don�t plan to abandon my
stories, but I probably won�t be updating during this time.

*

�� Paigeey07: Thanks for reviewing.

�� linagabriev:
This Draco is different from most of the others I�ve written in that he doesn�t
really want to be an equal to Harry. He just wants to prove himself better. Anything that will do that and
give him an advantage is welcome. He also doesn�t notice the contradiction in
his thinking. Potter is lucky and not skilled, therefore he can be beaten�but he�s
good enough that Draco needs a lot of advantages to beat him. This will be one
of the things that eventually bites him in the arse.

�� Jilliane:
Kingsley was convinced by the arguments Harry made to him in a scene we didn�t
see, as Harry thinks of here. He doesn�t like Harry going to Malfoy Manor, but
he�s resigned in that Harry out-stubborned him.

�� Mangacat: Lucius
will try to be an ally. Harry�s making it difficult right now.

�� FallenAngel1129:
Define �failing.�

�� avihenda: I�m
not sure Draco would admit to his feelings for Harry even if someone else verbalized
them to him, at this point.

�� SP777: Ah, I see what you�re talking
about. And I do try to include humor in each story I write. The main problem is
that I don�t want to force it, and so I�ll more often end up with an angsty
story with a few jokes than the opposite. I don�t usually plan the jokes in
advance.

�� And yes,
Draco is very delusional.

�� MewMew2: Thank you! While this
story is very different from �Bloody But Unbowed,� I like to think it�s as
well-written.
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The Same Species As Shakespeare