Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Soldier's Welcome	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25565 -:- 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.

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

Chapter Five�A Bagful
of Troubles

�� Will you
come with me, Harry?�

�� Harry
paused and blinked as he realized that Ron was standing in the door of their
room, his hands clenched so hard around the corners of the doorframe that his
arms bulged. Harry glanced around, trying to determine if something in the room
had caused Ron to look like that, but the room was the same as always: brownish
carpet, pale blue walls, the Quidditch posters he and Ron had put up, the big
orange splash of a Chudley Cannons banner on the bathroom door, and the tables
and desks that had come with the room.

�� Come with
you to do what?� Harry asked, turning back to his friend. His heart was
hammering and buzzing, and he realized that he was deeply afraid Ron would say
that he wanted to drop out of Auror training.

�� I need to
speak to Portillo Lopez.� Ron was biting into his lip and causing a faint
trickle of blood from it. �There�s no way I�ll pass that class unless I can get
some kind of help from her!�

�� Harry
relaxed. At least Ron knew there was a problem when he couldn�t even tie
bandages correctly, much less cast a healing spell, and was willing to do
something about it. �I�ll come with you. In fact, I need to talk to her myself.�

�� Ron�s mouth
dropped open slightly. �But you�re doing well in that class!�

�� Harry
grimaced and shook his head. �At the cost of so much effort that it leaves me
exhausted all the time. I think she only really wants to teach natural
students, but since everyone has to take the course and not everyone can be
perfect, there must be some method that she has for people who can�t learn as
easily.� He picked up his cloak and his scroll of parchment covered with notes
from the Battle Healing class that day. Sometimes Portillo Lopez looked at him
as if she suspected him of not studying. Harry wanted proof that he was trying to do the work.

�� Thanks,
mate.� Ron gripped and almost crushed his hand.

�� Harry
smiled back at him. �No problem.�

*

�� So,� Ron
said, stumbling to a stop over his words every few seconds, �we would really
like it if you could help us. Please.�

�� Harry
didn�t blame Ron for being intimidated. Portillo Lopez seemed interested in an
implacable silence that stretched on and on. She hadn�t moved a muscle in her
face since Ron started his plea. Harry found himself clenching his fists at his
side as he waited. Did she want them
to fail?

�� Then she
smiled. Harry nearly fell over with the shock. He realized now that he had
never seen her do that before. Even with her most favored students, the only
ones she seemed to think were worthy of encouragement, she nodded and lifted
her eyebrows.

�� I am
simply surprised,� she said, her voice low. �Very few students come to me to
ask for help. They seem to have a horror of looking stupid in front of others
that outweighs their desire to pass the class.�

�� But you
must see that a lot of people are struggling in there,� Harry said, unable to
keep silent even if he sounded disrespectful.

�� Portillo Lopez
shook her head. �I once assumed that every student who struggled wanted help,
and offered it. They despised me for it.� Her mouth hardened for a moment, and
Harry wondered what she wasn�t saying. Maybe people had despised her for her
accent, even though it wasn�t hard to understand at all. �They thought me weak
and afraid to judge. And many of them believed that they did not need to learn
any healing at all. In time, I accepted that they took my art seriously only
when I was severe. So, if someone does not ask questions and does not ask for
help, I assume they do not need or want it. It is easier that way.� She
inclined her head when Harry stared at her. �Am I to be a mind reader, or
assume that everyone will hold faster to common sense than to pride?�

�� The
solution didn�t really satisfy Harry, but at least Portillo Lopez was beginning
to tell Ron that his problem was his impatience, which meant that he never
wanted to tie the bandages properly, and that was a start.

*

�� Concentrate
harder.�

�� I am concentrating
as hard as I can.� Draco forced the words out between clenched teeth. He had
almost been in the state of mind necessary to produce a Patronus, he was sure,
and Potter had the nerve to interrupt him.

�� Then try
something else.� Potter ran a finger around the shell of his ear and shook his
head at Draco in despair. �Another memory, maybe. The show you�ve been putting
on so far is just pitiful.�

�� Draco
turned slowly to face Potter, his body quivering with tension. They had spent
most of the night in his room, with the air thick and still�something had gone
wrong with the circulating charms, and none of the air-moving spells that Draco
cast in compensation were enough�and Potter sighing and rolling his eyes. And
now, this. When Draco had poured so
much effort into something that he hated automatically because he saw how easy
it was for Potter.

�� He had
tried. Potter was being as unreasonable as Ketchum, who would congratulate
Draco on a victory achieved in Battlefield Tactics and then hand him a new
puzzle to solve. Perhaps he didn�t want to try any longer, if Potter made an
instructor as poor as the rest of them.

�� Except Auror Dearborn, Draco�s loyal
mind pointed out.

�� He poisoned
the loyalty and buried its corpse. He did not feel like being reasonable right
now.

�� You call
me pitiful, Potter,� Draco said, edging to the side so that he would have a clearer
angle to strike, �when I survived the Dark Lord.�

�� So did I.�
Potter pushed his hair back so that his scar showed. The gesture was far too
easy and practiced for someone who really hated the scar for marking him out,
Draco thought in triumph. There was proof that Potter didn�t mind his celebrity
as much as he tried to make it seem he did. He wondered what Pushkin would say
to that observation. �So did lots of
people. It doesn�t make you special.�

�� You have
no idea what I suffered,� Draco hissed. He could feel his fingers clenching
down on his wand, but what he really longed to do was to spring at Potter and
bite and hit him. There was a satisfaction in raw physicality, a brutality at
the heart of it, that couldn�t be found anywhere else.

�� And that rawness is what makes it
uncivilized.

�� The voice
of his good breeding joined the corpse of his loyalty in a shallow grave.

�� Especially
when Potter sneered at him and said, �And if you had the slightest idea of what
I went through to finish Voldemort, then you wouldn�t dare speak to me of suffering.�

�� That was
enough. Draco flew at Potter with a cry that he barely remembered to turn into
a curse instead of a punch when he saw that Potter had also lifted his wand.

�� Draco�s
curse emerged as a sickly bolt of yellow cloth, Potter�s as a spreading purple
light. They met and merged in the middle of the room, struggled wildly against
each other for a moment, and filled Draco�s head with a drumbeat and his mouth
with a foul taste. He was lifting his hands to his ears when both spells blazed
and vanished.

�� What does
that mean?� Potter demanded, his voice too loud. At least he winced and
clutched his head a moment later.

�� Draco
wanted to laugh when he realized the truth, and then to spit. The truth left
his tongue coated with more bitterness than the clash of their spells had.

�� It�s the
compatible magic,� he said. �It�s not easy for us to hit each other with
spells. If we were in a life-and-death situation, it would work. But we�re
simply quarreling like idiots over something that doesn�t matter, and so the
magic refuses to act. Or,� he added, when Potter gave him an incredulous
glance, �if you don�t believe that magic can choose what to do, we simply can�t
put enough force behind the spells when they�re directed against each other and
when we aren�t serious about defending our lives.�

�� Potter
swore in a vulgar manner, without great depths of imagination, stomping back
and forth. Draco watched him in elegant silence, and waited for him to realize
that they also had another problem.

�� Potter
whirled around at last, his eyes wide and his hair standing on end from the way
that he constantly ran his fingers through it. He would look much more handsome
if he could refrain from that gesture, Draco thought, but he didn�t expect that
realization to ever arrive in Potter�s head. �What happens when our instructors
ask us to duel in class?�

�� Yes,�
Draco said. �That is a problem, isn�t
it?�

�� And here,�
Potter continued, as if he hadn�t heard Draco. �How can I instruct you if we
can�t actually duel?�

�� Show me
defensive and healing magic,� Draco responded instantly. He kept himself from
saying Because that�s all you�ll ever be
good at, given the bias of your magic, by remembering that Potter was doing
only a little better in Portillo Lopez�s class than he had been. �That doesn�t
require an attack. And if we fight together against conjured enemies�well.� He
lifted his shoulders and dropped them in a small shrug that he hoped would
suffice to explain the matter.

�� It didn�t,
of course, and Potter was glaring skeptically at him in the next instant. �How
will fighting together help?�

�� Must I
lead you to everything?� Draco
snapped, no longer afraid of the way Potter bristled. �Our compatible magic
will make us stronger if we�re trying to fight side-by-side instead of attack
each other. It more or less makes up for our inability to use offensive spells
in a personal duel. We can�t stab each other in the back anymore�� with magic he refrained from saying,
because if Potter couldn�t figure that out, Draco wasn�t going to tell him
��but we can fight back-to-back with much more ease.�

�� Potter�s
nostrils flared. �I want proof of your word.� He turned away before Draco could
express the offense he felt that Potter refused to believe him and began
casting with neat flourishes of his wand that Draco hadn�t ever seen him make.
If he was half that neat in his notes for Auror Conduct, then he would do much
better in that class.

�� Shadows
appeared along the opposite wall. Draco raised his eyebrows, reluctantly
impressed. Most spells that conjured enemies followed the same basic formula,
creating what were essentially animated wooden dummies. Potter didn�t appear to
have studied those spells, so he followed the call of his own originality
instead. These dummies were less
bulky, grey instead of brown, and moved with shadow-like grace as they slid
away from the wall and stood on their own.

�� They were
also carrying wands, which wasn�t usual in the training duels that Draco had
ever seen. He gave Potter a narrow look. �We have to duel their spells?�

�� Potter shrugged,
his attention on the dummies as he stepped up to Draco�s side. �They only know
a few. Mostly hexes and jinxes.�

�� Draco kept
his opinion to himself�that it was extremely unusual for training dummies to know
spells at all�and stood beside Potter. The warmth of his magic reached out and
enveloped Draco. Draco rolled his eyes when the temptation to relax flooded
him. This was hardly going to be productive in battle. He wondered if
compatible magic was more trouble than it was worth, and if there was any way
to get rid of it.

�� Then
Potter�s conjured enemies stepped towards them, firing off Tripping Jinxes as
they came, and Potter said in a tense voice, �You take the ones on the left,
I�ll take the ones on the right. Go!�

�� And Draco
discovered exactly why so many books were always babbling on about the
advantages of compatible magic.

�� When he
lifted his wand, he could tell exactly where Potter was, by the feeling of the
magic that came with him and the way the warmth shifted closer or further away.
That would be dead useful in the middle of a crowded battlefield, Draco had to
admit, or at night. He could also feel the power gathering like a halo around
Potter�s head and wand before he cast. With some concentration and practice,
Draco thought he would be able to sense what spell was coming.

�� Potter
shouted, �Commuto aream!� A long
spray of white shot out of his wand, changing the floor in front of the dummies
to ice. They advanced mindlessly and slipped, scrambling and flailing their
arms. Draco had a moment to think that real enemies wouldn�t be that stupid;
they would take some measures to avoid the ice.

�� The
backblast of Potter�s strength caught him.

�� Draco
gasped, his body humming with energy, fizzing and sparking up his wand and
demanding to be let out as magic. He barely managed to aim his wand in the
right direction before he cast the spell�the first time he had ever managed it
nonverbally�and watched as one of the dummies burst into flame.

�� It burned
fiercely, sending sharp-edged shadows sliding around the room. In two seconds,
the dummy was gone, seared away to a fine grey ash that scattered around the
room and into the corners. Potter turned to gape at him. The other dummies kept
mindlessly marching forwards, which Draco knew wouldn�t really happen in
battle, either. Fire that consumed one of them had to give most sane people at
least a little pause.

�� What the fuck, Malfoy,� Potter said in reverent
tones. It didn�t take much concentration at all for Draco to find the
admiration and awe in them.

�� He lifted
his head and preened slightly, then laughed as a Tripping Jinx got through the
distracted Potter�s defenses and sent him to the floor. Curious to see if the
effect would work in the other direction, Draco lifted a Shield Charm to defend
himself against jinxes coming from more of the dummies.

�� At once
Potter hissed out a Finite that
countered two of the other jinxes zipping towards him, and then his Shield
Charm almost blinded Draco as he brought it up. He shook his head as though he
were wondering about the immense surge of magic that Draco knew he must be
feeling, and managed to stumble to his feet. He was looking at Draco from the
corner of one eye.

�� Draco had
no time to preen about it, because four of the dummies launched spells at once
and his Shield Charm vibrated and weakened. Draco dodged to the side, aware all
the time where Potter was as though it were some strange new sense he had
picked up, and cast more spells that would bring down the dummies and deprive
them of limbs without burning them all. He didn�t want the fire to get out of
control. So far, the compatible magic seemed to give them increased raw
strength, not finesse.

�� But we will learn to control it.

�� Draco
curled his lip as he watched Potter cast spells that dissolved the magic
holding the dummies together and made them vanish. Did I just think about doing something in common with Harry Potter that
doesn�t involve beating him up?

�� But he had.
And he decided that it would be easier to use the compatible magic than to
struggle against it, especially since it seemed unlikely to vanish.

�� In a few
more minutes, all the dummies were gone. Potter spent a few moments panting.
Draco decided, smugly, that a year of studying for NEWTS had done Potter no
favors in the exercise department. Draco, meanwhile, had made sure that he had
gone for runs and regular flights on his brooms even when he was deepest in his
studies.

�� Then Potter
straightened up and turned to face him.

�� The
expression on his face was wary. Draco laughed at him. �I promise, Potter,
compatible magic doesn�t allow me to murder you in your sleep. Pity,� he had to
add, when Potter�s mouth widened a bit in outrage. �I can think of times when I
would have wanted to do that.�

�� Potter
entirely ignored the implications of that statement, which, for Draco, were a
signal that he didn�t want to murder
Potter in his sleep anymore. �Is it always going to be like that when we
fight?� he demanded.

�� In time,
we will gain some control over it, I hope.� Draco shuddered at the thought of
being bound to Potter�s level of interaction with magic for the rest of his
life. �But I suspect that we will always be able to sense each other�s
direction and draw on each other�s strength when one of us casts a spell.�

�� Potter
sighed and shook his head. �Well, at least it isn�t likely to come up outside
of these private dueling lessons.�

��

Draco stiffened. �Have you
forgotten that we�re both Auror trainees, and may have to face each other, or fight
beside each other, in our classes in the future?�

�But not until next year,� Potter
said quickly, �and by then, we should have more control of it, like you said. I
don�t see us ending up as partners.�

Draco shook his head. �Of course
not.� As convenient as it would be to fight beside Potter in duels, or battles,
or when capturing criminals, he couldn�t live with Potter�s personality while
he did it. �Now, do you want to try again?�

�Of course,� Potter said, with a
grin that burned straight into the center of Draco�s soul and made him smile
back. �And then, we can go back to practicing the Patronus Charm.�

�� At least he said �we,� Draco thought
crossly as he watched Potter conjure more enemies. Of course, that might make it worse, since he knows well enough that he
needs no bloody practice. Condescending bastard.

*

�� Harry
closed his eyes and lowered his forehead onto his hands. His head was full of a
buzzing, sparking tension, and every sound around him seemed muffled, as though
it had to come through several layers of cotton. He knew exactly what that
meant, especially since his sleep had been filled with an ominous silence last
night instead of nightmares.

�� But what
could he do about it? His problems didn�t have the grace to show up on the
weekends. This was a day of classes, and a particularly heavy one, since they
would be having exams in three of the classes�Conduct, Battle Healing, and
Offensive and Defensive Magic�and a sharp workout in Combat. At the moment,
they were in Combat, the first class.

�� He would
have to endure, that was all.

�� He made
himself think about times when he was shut up in the cupboard at Privet Drive
and needed to use the loo and no one would let him, and the time when Voldemort
had bound him to the altar in the graveyard and taken blood from him. Both of
them were harder than this. Living in a tent in the wilderness while Death
Eaters hunted them was harder than this.

�� This was only a few eyes.

�� Potter!�

�� And Auror
Gregory, of course.

�� Get to the
front of the class, Potter, and fight West,� Gregory snapped.

�� Harry stood
up and walked slowly to the front of the classroom. The silence in his dreams
traveled with him now, flickering around his head, so that he could hardly hear
anything at all. His breathing moved his chest up and down, but he felt as if
he were moving through a dream, or as if someone had turned him into an
Inferius. He turned to face Darien West, the trainee from his group who had
discovered the passage through the magical door nearest their rooms, and nodded
to him. Darien, a tall man with pale brown hair who never seemed to stop
washing his hands in nervous motions, nodded back and took up the stance that
Gregory had told them to use so many times. He did it naturally. Harry did his
best to follow suit, and hoped that Gregory hadn�t told him to do something
else, because he wouldn�t hear her.

�� The world
narrowed down in front of his eyes, and the weight of silence and guilt and sorrow
turned around and fell on him.

�� Snape lay on the floor of the Shrieking
Shack, and stared up with empty, accusing eyes. Harry knelt beside him with an
aching heart. He hadn�t told the others that he was going back for Snape�s
body; Ron and Hermione had thought he was taking advantage of a brief spell of
privacy to sleep.

�� I�m sorry,� Harry whispered without any
sound. �I�m sorry that you tried to protect me and I never knew. I�m sorry that
you loved my mother and I thought the only thing that mattered to you was
hatred of my father.�

�� But no matter how many words he whispered,
Snape couldn�t hear him. He had gone where he would never hear anything again.
And if Harry tried to atone for his ignorance in the socially acceptable
ways�such as by making sure that people remembered Snape as a hero of the
war�it still wouldn�t change anything. It wouldn�t undo Nagini�s bite or give
Snape the ability to know that he was honored now.

�� Everything Harry could do, even living
itself, seemed so useless in the face of death.

�� Potter! Potter!�

�� Harry
shuddered and flinched, scrambling back from the voice that was yelling at him.
He had one arm over his face before he considered what that would look like,
and ripped his arm free, gasping.

�� Auror
Gregory stood over him, staring down with narrowed eyes. Darien stood beyond
her, blinking the way he always did. Ron and Hermione were trying to get close,
but a crowd of interested people held them back, all gaping at Harry.

�� Harry
wanted to close his eyes and retreat into the silence that had surrounded him
and was dissipated now. He�d had another of his fits, when memory and grief
overcame him and reminded him that, no matter what he did, he had still failed
a lot of people and he would never be able to make up for that.

�� And this
time, everyone had seen.

�� The worst
thing, when he looked again, was the piercing light in Gregory�s eyes, as
though she had just learned something that would make it all right for her to
despise him. Hermione�s horrified concern and Ron�s blank incomprehension
weren�t much better.

�� Disturbing
in an all-new way was the steady stare Malfoy gave him, as he stood with his
arms folded beyond Hermione�s shoulder and looked into Harry�s face.

*

�� Blood on
the Water: Thank you! And Draco won�t produce a Patronus for a while, but it
won�t be a ferret when he does.

�� SamuraiSaaya:
Thank you! Harry and Draco don�t really like
this compatibility, but there�s not much that they can do about it.

�� SP777:
Well, Ron hasn�t found out yet!

�� And as for
the test part, I can�t tell you yet.

�� Thrnbrooke:
Here it is.

�� MiraMira:
Yes, I have an e-mail group. I can add you to it if you like. I just need your
e-mail address (I didn�t see it in your profile).

�� And thank
you so much for reading!
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Soldier's Welcome