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Chosen Chains	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter Five�Eight
Legs and Two Tails

�� Mr.
Potter. I trust that there are no obstacles to speaking to you now?�

�� Harry
smiled with his mouth alone. He had gone back to Hogsmeade after he had sex
with Malfoy last night and had his best sleep in months, then eaten so heartily
that some of the other people in the Three Broomsticks had stared at him. This
morning he had walked in early, because he thought they had wasted enough time
over the second riddle and Malfoy would probably want to talk about it.

�� And, of
course, Covington had waylaid him before he got to Malfoy.

�� Of course
not,� Harry said, and shifted his stack of papers from hand to hand, as if he
were controlling impatience. That would make her think she had some advantage
over him. In reality, with the anger banished yesterday and Harry�s confidence
that he could handle this situation while he stayed at Hogwarts, he was better able
to combat her than he�d ever been. �Do you wish to go to your office?�

�� Covington
looked around as if she were only now realizing that they stood in the middle
of the Hogwarts grounds, not far from the lake. �I find conversations conducted
in the open air extremely stimulating, Mr. Potter,� she said. �I would prefer
to stay here.�

�� If she�d
expected him to object, Harry was determined to disappoint her. He merely
inclined his head and turned to follow her along the banks of the lake. He
would make her speak first, though.

�� But
Covington seemed to have the same tactic in mind, since she didn�t speak but
just walked along with her gaze bent on the ground. Harry rolled his eyes mentally
and gave in, as far as he thought it advisable to do so. �What did you want to
talk about?�

�� I know
that you found the solution to the first riddle in the lake,� Covington said
softly. �I know that you�ve spoken to Headmaster Dumbledore�s portrait the way
we asked you to. I know that you�re keeping secrets from the Ministry.� She
turned her head and fixed him with large eyes, while she waited for him to
respond.

�� Harry�s
first impulse was to think that Malfoy must have betrayed him. How else could
Covington know about everything they�d striven to keep secret?

�� But then he
took a deep breath and focused his thoughts more precisely. Malfoy had every
reason to despise and fight the Ministry when they were going to get rid of
Slytherin. He had told Harry as much, and Harry really doubted that Covington
would have reversed herself on that simply to get Malfoy�s cooperation. She
probably didn�t have the power to promise something like that anyway.

�� It was a
usual Ministry tactic, though, to pretend to know something they didn�t, for
the purpose of making people opposed to them distrust each other. They were
already doing it with pure-bloods and Muggleborns when Harry left.

�� He sighed,
as though he was sorry for her, and said, �You don�t really know anything. And
of course I�m keeping secrets from
the Ministry. How much I hate everyone there, for instance. You know that I
hate you, yes, but not how much,� he added when she opened her mouth.

�� Covington
shut her mouth again and frowned at him severely. �There�s no reason for your
hostile tone, Mr. Potter. We could work together.�

�� Could we?�
Harry offered the question up like a scone on a plate and then waited.

�� Covington
fell for it. �Of course. The Ministry reconsiders its policies on Hogwarts
constantly, and will revise them every year. You could be a part of that
process, an honored part of that
process, with the chance to speak your mind on the policies that you consider
dangerous, damaging, or unnecessary.�

�� Hm,� Harry
said. Hermione, he thought, would be salivating at the chance for something
like this. She would probably say that it was a wonderful compromise and they
should take it because they wouldn�t get a better choice.

�� Strange, Harry realized after a moment
of stunned astonishment that he was without anger. I can even think about my former best friends without immediately
getting upset. Malfoy fucking me did me more good than I realize.

�� Then Harry
remembered the chains and the way he had felt with his ankles held down, and
shook his head. It had nothing to do with Malfoy. He�d simply had someone who
knew how to tie him down the way he liked. If he found one person who could do
that, then he�d find another. He�d make sure to ask for ankle chains the next
time he was with a Muggle.

�� Does this
mean that you�re declining our offer, Mr. Potter?�

�� Harry
glanced up. Covington was walking beside him, staring at him, and of course she
knew nothing of his private thoughts or the fact that Harry had shaken his head
in response to them. She would think that the Ministry was the only important
thing he could consider, because it was the most important thing in the world
to her.

�� I�ll have
to think about it,� Harry said.

�� Covington
accepted that graciously, where someone less intelligent might have pressed him
and been rejected. Harry had to admire her, and to wonder why the Ministry
hadn�t sent her in the first place, rather than Wimpledink. She nodded, bowed,
said, �I will be in my rooms during the whole of the day, if you�d like to
speak with me, Mr. Potter,� and turned towards the school.

�� Harry
watched her go, not following until he was sure that the doors of the entrance
hall had shut firmly behind her. He had no intention of accepting her offer, of
course, but he thought the offer was an interesting weapon to have. Malfoy
would have ideas of how they could twist it around and use it to stab Covington
and her kind in the back.

�� Malfoy.

�� Harry
experienced a brief wash of trepidation at the notion that he would see him in
a few minutes, and then shook himself. They�d fucked, and that was all. Harry
had always rolled out of bed and left his lovers behind, because once they�d
given him what he needed, he had no idea what to do with them. Bradley was the
only exception, and that only because Harry would come back and have normal sex
with him on other days when his anger hadn�t built up.

�� Malfoy
couldn�t even be that much to him.

�� Harry shook
himself again. He felt strangely sorry about
that, and it simply wouldn�t do.

*

�� Draco
ignored Severus�s murmur about how he must be feeling overwrought. He was too
busy lashing the sentient potion back into the cauldron for the fourth time
that morning. It had come out quickly the first two times, but it was cowed
now, and Draco had had to wait nearly an hour for it to emerge between the
third and fourth occurrences.

�� He was wise
enough to know that his anger wasn�t at the potion and he could take it out in
other ways, on other things, but he saw no reason to do so. The anger would be
useful in taming the potion and doing some of the things Draco needed to do
this morning. It would not be useful for others, and it would be best if Draco
had worn himself into calmness before Potter arrived to discuss the riddle.

�� The tendril
of potion he was watching began to creep down the other side of the cauldron.
Draco stepped around the cauldron in response and rapped it busily with the
copper wire he had selected that morning. He had thought copper might be even
better than steel, and so it proved. The potion made an audible bubbling noise
of misery and climbed back into the cauldron of its own free will.

�� I wonder
what Potter would say if he could see you at the moment,� Severus remarked.

�� Draco
stiffened, which he knew would tell Severus the shot had gone home, but he
thought he recovered nicely. �He would have no chance to offer an opinion,� he
said coolly, and put a Stasis Charm on the cauldron to hold the potion while he
discussed matters with Potter. He thought it probably time for him to arrive,
though of course he might need an extra half-hour because of Potter�s laziness.
�I would never allow him in my lab while I was brewing. I thought I had told
you that before.�

�� But this
is my lab,� Severus said. �I might see him here. I might see him staring at you
with flushed cheeks and eyes bright with desire��

�� Draco shot
him an irritated look. Portraits in the castle had seen Draco and Potter enter
and leave the Room of Requirement, and apparently they had surmised what the
two of them had been doing and spread the rumors.

�� Severus
leaned forwards. �Tell me, Draco,� he whispered hoarsely, �what does he look
like in the midst of sex?�

�� Draco
widened his eyes in a parody of innocence. �Longing to know so that you can
compare the picture with your fantasies about his mother?� he asked.

�� Severus�s
face stiffened, and he turned away with a dignity of conduct that Draco knew
meant he was hiding deep shock. Well, let him hide it. Draco had better things
to do than soothe a portrait�s hurt feelings, like make sure that the potion
was completely back in the cauldron.

�� By the time
that Potter stepped through the door, Draco had recovered himself. He inclined
his head and picked up the cup of tea that he�d had one of the house-elves
bring. At least the controversies over the running of Hogwarts hadn�t damaged
the promptness and efficiency of the meals. �Tea, Potter?�

�� Yes,�
Potter said, and sat down in the chair across from him, sparing one quick
glance at the frame on the wall that Dumbledore had sometimes appeared in.

�� Draco
studied him narrowly as he held out the cup and Potter accepted it. Draco
hadn�t tried to touch Potter�s fingers as they handed the cup across, but he
hadn�t gone out of his way to avoid it, either. Potter simply didn�t touch
them, and made it all look natural, to the point that Draco had no proof it
wasn�t. He wanted to hiss between his teeth. Instead, he sat back and nodded to
Potter, adopting a neutral expression. �You look like you�re simply bursting
with news. What is it?�

�� Potter
snorted a little and sipped at his tea. �Covington met me outside. She implied
that I would be put into a position of power if I betrayed you to them.�

�� Draco felt
a small shock go through him, but he wasn�t sure if it was the mention of
Covington�s tactic or the fact that Potter had casually used the word
�betraying,� as if he thought that it really would be betrayal to turn Draco in. �I see. I hope you gave her no
hints.�

�� Potter
raised his eyebrows and shook his head. �I didn�t really need to, though,� he
admitted. �She�d already made some extremely good guesses, including that we�d
found whatever we�d gone into the lake to look for, and that I�d spoken to
Dumbledore�s portrait. She also said that she knew I was keeping secrets from
the Ministry, but since that was perfectly obvious from the time she met us on
the lakeshore, I�m less inclined to give her credit for that.�

�� Draco
frowned. �Could she have picked up the clue from your mind in any way? Is she a
Legilimens?� He had sensed nothing of the kind during his private meetings with
her, but then again, she might have known better than to try that weapon on a
fellow Slytherin.

�� I don�t
think so,� Potter said. �I would probably recognize the touch of another mind
on mine, for�many reasons, although I don�t think I could block it.�

�� You are
unexpectedly honest this morning, Potter,� Severus said caustically from behind
Draco�s chair. �Does that have anything to do with your recent experience?�

�� Draco
hissed, but Potter didn�t seem to notice that anything was amiss. He looked up
at Severus, and his eyes were simply blank. �What recent experience?�

�� And he
sounded�normal. Perhaps a bit curious. It seemed he didn�t think Severus would
have any reason or way to know that they�d slept together.

�� Draco cut
in smoothly before Severus could go about revealing any clues he might have had
in mind. �We�ll string her along and convince her that you�re interested but
need more solid promises. It would be interesting to see what she would commit
herself to. I�m not yet sure exactly how far she stands up in the Ministry,
although I know her official title. Do you remember meeting her or hearing of
her when you were with the Aurors?�

�� Potter
shook his head. �I doubt I would have remembered if I did. I wasn�t much
interested in politics until I found out what the Ministry intended to do to
Hogwarts.� He leaned forwards. �I thought we were going to work on the riddle.
Aren�t we? We can string her along, but it�s a distraction from the real task
that we�re here to accomplish.�

�� Draco
nodded, hoping that he masked his irritation, and then drew out the parchment
with the riddle on it from his pocket. �I�ve considered it several times since
yesterday, but I have to admit that I know of no creature which has four legs
in reality and eight legs and two tails in legends. There are superstitious
tales of all sorts that wizards believe, just like Muggles, but we have the option of correcting them
because of the research of people like Newt Scamander. The corrected version
would have made its way into all the magical creature textbooks.�

��

�� Potter was
giving him an odd look. Draco stared back. �What?� He would not be the one to flush or stammer or
make the first reference to the sex that sometimes still felt branded on his
skin when he was incautious enough to think about it.

�� I didn�t
think you had much respect for people who studied magical creatures,� Potter
said, shaking his head. �Considering the way you treated Hagrid.�

�� Draco
sneered, and didn�t care if Potter saw it. Or at least he told himself that.
�He couldn�t control the creatures that he wanted to study. He couldn�t protect
his students. Someone who�s going to study beasts like that needs to care more
about their students than about the beasts.�

�� Potter
clenched his teeth and shut his eyes, and Draco half-hoped to see the flames
that would mark his anger rise along his skin. At least that would prove he
needed Draco, and that Draco had done something
for him, and perhaps he would invite Draco into his bed to do it again.

�� Only, this
time, Draco might refuse, at least until he reached the point where Potter was
writhing and begging in front of him.

�� I won�t
argue about that,� Potter said, opening his eyes. �But anyway, isn�t it at
least possible that some of the
textbooks might print the old stories along with the corrected version? That
way, we can find out what creatures were once believed to have eight legs and
two tails, even if they don�t believe that now.�

�� Don�t
forget the other part of the riddle,� Draco said. He wasn�t anxious to go
looking through old textbooks; he could imagine few things less exciting. �That
part about not seeing it when you cross the sky with the sun.�

�� Potter
grunted in annoyance. �That sounds as if it has something to do with Astronomy.
I was never much good at that. Do you know what constellation it might be right
away?�

�� No,� Draco
said. �And there�s no reason to assume that it�s a constellation. It could be a
planet or a star. I don�t know of any constellation that�s visible all the time
at both morning and evening.�

�� Yeah.�
Potter tugged at his hair. �Just to make it even
harder.� He looked up at Severus�s portrait, shaking his head. �You
bastards were paranoid.�

�� Not
paranoid enough, in the end, to save my life.� Severus had a distracted tone in
his voice, and Draco knew without turning around that he was squinting into the
cauldron. But he would also be paying careful attention to the conversation,
not allowing any of the words to escape his ears. Draco was certain that he
would report every word to Dumbledore later, if not the other portraits. �I
will not wish the protections on the riddles less to appease your childish
desire for simplicity and clarity.�

�� Listen, Snape��

�� It doesn�t
matter,� Draco said, cutting across them both. �We should look for the solution
to both parts of the riddle. I could possibly solve the second part�in fact, I
think it�s probably Venus, which is sometimes called both the morning and the
evening star�but we need the connection between the two parts. After all, even
if the answer to the second part is Venus, what connection does that have to
something with four legs or eight legs and two tails? I know there are no legends of Venus like that.�

�� How do you
know?� Potter said, seemingly content to be distracted from his row with
Severus.

�� Because my
mother made me study Astronomy as a child,� Draco said, with a little shudder.
There had been one year when Narcissa was obsessed with it, giving him books of
constellations to memorize at the same time as she was making him study the
Black genealogy and compare the personalities of their ancestors with the
star-names they�d been given. �I would have heard any stories like that of
Venus, if they existed.�

�� Potter
laughed. �I know the feeling. There was a time when we were looking up charms
that I could use against dragons in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. By the end, I
never wanted to know anything else about dragons.�

�� His face
darkened suddenly, and Draco suspected he was remembering that he had been
friends with Weasley and Granger in those days, and had spent his �studying�
time in their private little circle. Draco spoke so that he would stop the
hero�s plunge into brooding, which he thought neither relevant nor useful. �You
would volunteer to look through the old Magical Creatures textbooks for some
evidence of an animal with eight legs and two tails in the legends?�

�� Potter
raised his eyebrows. �You want to avoid the chore enough to trust me with
research?�

�� Draco
wanted some breathing space from Potter, to be perfectly honest, but he would
hardly be perfectly honest with someone who had regarded him only as the means
to an end, the best of a bad lot. He raised his eyebrows back instead. �Do you
want to stay here with me while I cudgel my brains for memories of Astronomy
lessons?�

�� When you
put it like that, no.� Potter stood and held out his hand. �Let me make a copy
of the riddle so that I can carry it with me.�

�� Draco
sneered automatically. �You�re not capable of remembering it for the few hours
that we�ll be apart?�

�� I don�t
always trust my memory,� Potter said, and nothing more.

�� Draco
sighed and cast a Duplicator Charm on the small piece of parchment that held
the riddle. He tried to toss the one he held to Potter, but Potter simply
snatched it from his hand, nodded back, and then turned around and walked out
the door as if he had no thought in his head but the research.

�� Draco
watched him go for longer than was wise, given the way Severus cleared his
throat behind him. �Trouble in lovers� paradise?� he asked.

�� Be still,�
Draco said, and leaned back in his chair to shut his eyes. �I have to
concentrate on the possible answers to this riddle, what mythological creatures
are linked to Venus, and what they would have to do with a place on Hogwarts�
grounds. You can�t help me, since you admitted that you have no memory of the
riddle or what drove your former self to write it.�

�� That
silenced Severus, as Draco had known it would. And with his eyes shut and his
inner world undisturbed, who was to know that he lingered for a short time over
the events of yesterday before he began to pick his memories?

*

�� Harry
grimaced and staggered towards the library table he�d chosen with another
double armful of books on magical creatures. He hadn�t known that the library
housed what seemed to be all the textbooks that had ever been used for the
classes here. They also put, in the same space, any textbooks for other classes
that were, for whatever reason, primarily devoted to magical creatures, like
Potions textbooks that talked about their eggs, skin, and feathers.

�� And
textbooks were almost the only kind of books in the library, Harry thought,
with a final glance around before he settled himself in front of the pile. The
shelves looked full because there were so many, but it hadn�t taken him long to
notice that most other books�history books, general references, even the books
on Quidditch�were gone.

�� Done by the Ministry for the safety of the
students? Harry thought sarcastically as he flipped open the cover of the
first book. That cover had no title, but the first page said, in bright and
gleaming gilt letters, The Hippogriff and
Lesser Cousins, so at least he was on the right track. Or because they want to sort through the books of the library and
decide which ones should belong to the Ministry?

�� Really,
either alternative was plausible, and depressing enough that Harry decided he
wasn�t going to think about it any longer. He did wonder that Hermione could
support the Ministry in any way, though.

�� He cast the
spell that would make this research a lot easier and settled back to wait. The
charm made a cascade of shimmering pink light with golden flecks rise up over
each book and form into a question mark. Then each question mark dissolved as
the magic raced into the book, marking, with a big, easily visible card, each
page that mentioned a specific word. In this case, Harry had chosen the word
�eight,� since he thought �legs� and �tails� would be mentioned too often to
matter.

�� While he
waited, his mind drifted, and it went straight back to the place he should have
suspected it was going. After all, Hermione had invented the spell he was using
to search the books.

�� Harry
rubbed his eyes and looked wearily at the shelves. He wondered sometimes
whether it be worthwhile to reach out again and try to coax Hermione and Ron to
reconcile with him. A day like this would be favorite, because he was still
drained and calm from the sex with Malfoy and wouldn�t get angry at them as
easily.

�� But then he
thought again of the way they supported the Ministry, and shook his head. Why should he care what they cared about?
They hadn�t cared enough to stand by him when he was clearly in the right, and
the Ministry was sacking him just for asking questions. They�d made their own
compromises and come to their own solutions in the years that passed, without a
single solitary attempt to contact him. They had a right to be hurt by what
he�d said, Harry thought, but they didn�t seem to acknowledge his same right to
be hurt by their words.

�� Yeah, we�re probably destined to stay apart
forever, Harry told himself, and then sat upright as the spell finished and
the books glowed pink once before the final cards settled into place. And I can�t believe how maudlin I�m
becoming.

�� The books,
as it turned out, weren�t any help. The only thing that appeared to have eight
legs was a spider, and none of them had four legs in reality�even though Malfoy
was wrong and a few of the textbooks did include old legends about creatures
that the researchers hadn�t been able to verify, or stories about what people
used to believe. Harry learned a lot about Acromantulas and more about deadly
fire-brown spiders and white widows, but there was nothing in the whole pile
that seemed likely to lead him on. He shut the last book with a bang that Madam
Pince would have frowned at, if she was there, and stood up.

�� Harry, my
boy. I�ve wanted to talk to you since yesterday.�

�� Harry spun
around with a yelp. He hadn�t even realized that an empty portrait frame hung
behind him. Dumbledore stood in it now, his eyes so bright with hope that Harry
winced. He knew what was coming.

�� I don�t
really have time, Headmaster,� he said, and began gathering up the books with a
spell. He probably should have floated them to the table that way in the first
place, he thought. Then he might have been out of here before Dumbledore arrived.
But at first, he hadn�t known that all of these books really were about magical
creatures. �Malfoy will be waiting for me to come back and tell him what I�ve discovered��

�� Which will
be little enough, I�m afraid, having watched you,� Dumbledore said serenely.
�Could I offer some advice, Harry? I speak as a friend, and you do not have to
take this advice.�

�� Harry
turned around and leaned against the table. �But are you my friend?� he asked
quietly.

�� Dumbledore
blinked and cleared his throat. He didn�t seem to have been expecting the
question. �I would like to think that I am, Harry,� he said at last. �I don�t
like to think that you would look on me as an enemy.�

�� Harry shook
his head. He was remembering, or trying to, that this portrait wasn�t the man
who had saved the world and very nearly damned Harry, but the portrait kept
wanting to act as though it was. So maybe the best solution was to treat it
that way. �Not an enemy. But�your plans worked. But they still involved me
dying. That was something I had to think a long time about before I accepted
it. Hermione still thinks I haven�t accepted it,� he added, and didn�t care
about the twist of bitterness in his voice. Dumbledore knew, had to know, the
tension of the situation with his friends, if not all the details. �I did. It
was just complex, and I didn�t think I�d have to talk to you again.�

�� I have
been waiting for you all these years,� Dumbledore said. �I�d very much like to
explain what I did.�

�� But you
already did,� Harry said, �when I died and met you in a place that looked like
King�s Cross. That was the only explanation I need.�

�� Dumbledore
gave him a keen look. �Would you not rather hear an explanation that exists
outside your head?� he asked quietly. �From what I understood, you could not be
sure of what happened there because you were dead at the time.�

�� Have you
been talking to Hermione?� Harry asked, and felt a return of the anger, like a
rush of bile in the bottom of his throat, when Dumbledore nodded seriously.

�� I felt as
if it were the closest I could come to talking with you,� he said. �And I was
lonely, longing to reestablish a bond of trust between us, but unable to do so
as long as you avoided me. She was the one who told me that you thought you had
seen me when you were dead, and were satisfied with the explanation that my
ghost offered.�

�� I am,�
Harry said. �There�s no reason to drag this all up again. You aren�t
Dumbledore, not completely, and you�ve said that you�re missing some of his
memories. I want the full explanation, not the partial one.�

�� The
portrait looked hurt. �I can offer you some of the friendship that existed
between you and my former self, at least,� he said gently. �I had hoped that
would be enough to build a deeper relationship between us.�

�� Harry shook
his head. �I came to terms with Dumbledore�s death,� he said, and looked over
his shoulder to make sure that the last book had floated off the table. Just as
well not to let the Ministry know what they were researching. �I don�t need a
reflection of him to offer me reassurances. Really, sir,� he added when he saw
that the portrait had opened its painted mouth again. �It�s all over and done
with. I don�t want to talk about it again.�

�� You must,
for your own health,� Dumbledore said. �I do not think that you can have passed
through the traumatic events that took place in your life and be
psychologically normal.�

�� Harry
laughed hollowly. �You think normality should be the goal? I think I should be
grateful that I�m still breathing and sane.�

�� Your
sanity remains in doubt for a few of your closest friends.� Dumbledore was
peering at him over the top of his spectacles now, and his eyes were bright but
grim. �I must admit my doubts join with theirs.�

�� Harry
snorted. He still felt less anger than he should have in the face of an
accusation like that. Malfoy really had been good for him, he thought with some
surprise.

�� Or not
Malfoy, but being bound. Harry knew he would pay a price if he forgot the
distinction between those two things.

�� What
exactly did you expect me to be like,
after the war?� he asked. �Did you think that I�d wake up the next morning,
shrug, say, �Well, glad that�s over,� and then become an Auror and stay one,
and marry Ginny Weasley and have a ton of children? Or did you want me to go
through years of therapy and come to some profound revelation at the end of it?
Hermione sounds like that�s her preferred option. But I can�t do both at the same
time. I�m not normal, I won�t be, and it�s time to accept that.�

�� Dumbledore
shook his head. �I wished to see more of a reaction,� he said quietly. �I
wished to see you reconciled with the wizarding world. I wished to see you have
the life you would have had without your parents� death and without the scar on
your forehead.�

�� Harry
stared at him. �But that�s stupid,�
he finally said, since there was no kinder way to put it. �I can�t�look, I
can�t just roll over and accept the blows that life has given me and get up
from them. That requires a fantasy hero, and I thought that you�I mean, the man
you used to be�always knew I wasn�t that. I�m me. Flawed and normal. Why does everyone have a hard time accepting
that? Or else they think I�m too flawed, like Hermione, and need some kind of
correction.�

�� Dumbledore
sighed. �Perhaps it was an unrealistic fantasy,� he agreed. �But you cannot
pretend that the life you have now is the life of your choice, Harry.�

�� It�s a lot
better than the life I would have had if Hermione got her way,� Harry said
frankly. �I�d be pretending to happiness. I�d be pretending that nothing had
ever happened to me, which is stupid. I�d be pretending to be normal sexually,
for that matter. It�s all a matter of chance. I can�t make something be real by
wishing it was.�

�� Dumbledore
simply watched him solemnly. Just when Harry thought he wasn�t going to speak
any more and was about to walk out of the library, Dumbledore whispered, �I
wish it for you anyway.�

�� Stop
wishing,� Harry snapped. �If you�re concerned about what I want, then knowing
this isn�t what I want should be
enough to make you stop wishing.�

�� Dumbledore
started to say something else, but this time Harry really had had enough. He
made his way quickly to the dungeons, hoping that Malfoy had had better luck
than he had.

*

�� Draco could
have wished that his mind wandered less often to images of Potter�s eyes wide
open and blazing beneath him, and the texture of warm limbs and arse clenching
around him in desire, or the expression of sheer surprise on his face when Draco had slid into him for the first
time.

�� But it
probably wouldn�t have made any difference if he had thought solely of Venus
for the hours before Potter came back, he considered, opening his eyes at the
click of the door. If there were any legends about Venus being associated with
magical creatures like the ones the riddle described, his mother had never
insisted that he learn them.

�� Nothing,�
Potter said, slumping into a chair in front of Draco�s fire as though he had
been walking for miles instead of simply studying books in a library. �I used a
spell that brought every occurrence of the word �eight� in all the books to my
attention. It didn�t work.� He glanced at Draco and smiled a little grimly.
�But I could tell you a whole lot about spiders, if you have some reason to
want to know about them.�

�� Draco felt
a flash of heat pass across him at the image of those eyes. He rose from his
chair as if casually. Potter had already turned back to the fire, so Draco
didn�t really fear Potter would notice his half-erection, but he had thought of
something else he could do.

�� He paced
behind Potter�s chair. �I can remember nothing that would mark out Venus as
being associated with magical creatures, either,� he admitted. His hand fell on
Potter�s neck and clamped down.

�� Potter
tensed�Draco could feel that through the tremble in his muscles as well as see
it�but his voice remained light. �Well, then we�ll have to try something else.
Maybe look at the riddle again? Maybe you�ll find a clue in the wording, the
way that you did when thinking about the difference between �stop� and �end� in
the first riddle.�

�� Draco
pressed down more heavily, to the point that he was almost bending Potter�s
head forwards, and stooped to put his lips to Potter�s ear. �Why don�t we do
something else for a while?� he murmured. �A short break could prove helpful
and refreshing to our minds. As well as our bodies.� He let his other hand
stray down Potter�s chest.

�� Potter
caught his hand. Draco felt another flash of heat and worked hard not to pant�

�� Until the
point when Potter squeezed his fingers so hard that flashes of red and black
across Draco�s vision replaced the flash of heat.

�� Potter,
what the fuck?� he said,
concentrating despite his dizziness so that he could rip his hand free of
Potter�s hold. He leaped back and stood staring in confusion at the idiot in
front of him.

�� Potter took
his time sitting there and breathing, almost long enough for the tingling to
fade from Draco�s fingers. Then he rose from the chair and turned.

�� His eyes
were close to black with rage. Draco looked instinctively for some sign of the
green flames or the other things Potter did that would signal his magic getting
out of control, but none of them appeared. He thought he understood why when he
looked back at Potter�s face. This wasn�t the uncontrollable fury Potter had
shown before, but simple outrage.

�� As though I did him an indignity, Draco
thought, his heart thumping hard and anger of his own replacing his shock. As if he thought I somehow wasn�t worthy to
sleep with him.

�� You don�t
understand,� Potter said. �I only do�that�when
I need something to control my anger. We did it yesterday, and one good session
is enough to sustain me for a couple of months. So I�m not in need of any
attentions that you might spare me right now, Malfoy.� His lips had drawn back
from his teeth in a way that made him look as if he might bite�and, stupidly,
only made Draco want him more.

�� Of course,
he wanted Potter bound in a bed, where he would be earning the risk if he
brought his hand near Potter�s teeth. Being assaulted when he�d taken no risk
displeased him.

�� What do
you mean?� he asked. �That you only need to be bound to the bed and fucked when
you�re angry?� It sounded incredible to him, but he supposed that might be why
it had been a subject of such bitter disagreement between Potter and his
friends. He and they both saw it as a nonessential part of himself, or at least
not as part of him all the time.

�� Exactly,�
Potter said, voice cool. �It�s a last resort, the only thing that works, but
that doesn�t mean I want it all the time. I don�t enjoy it.�

�� Draco
snorted.

�� Potter
flushed in a beautiful way, the red creeping up his face from his shirt collar
and gratifying Draco with the extra embarrassment he seemed to feel because he
was flushing. �Shut it, Malfoy,� Potter muttered. �I don�t mean�there�s a
difference between physical and mental enjoyment. You�ve never noticed that?�

�� He was
sneering again, and Draco felt able to meet him eye to eye and say, �It was
physical enjoyment when you came. You didn�t want me to touch you. You came
because of me, because I was inside
you, shoving deeper and deeper.�

�� His voice
grew husky in spite of himself and he knew he was stiffening in his pants, but
nevertheless, he didn�t regret that he�d used the words. It was worth it for
the way that Potter shifted and looked aside.

�� I don�t
want what you can offer me, Malfoy,� he said, �which is a few days of
commitment at the most. We�re here to solve a problem, and we�re bloody well
going to solve it without taking out time for fucking along the way.�

�� Draco took
a step closer and arched his body, letting Potter see his hard cock, his
muscled forearms, his heated eyes. �Tell me that it would be only a fuck. Tell
me that you didn�t dream about this last night.�

�� I didn�t
dream about this last night,� Potter said, and he looked sincere, as well as
puzzled that Draco would want him to say anything else. Perhaps there was even
a trace of pity in his expression that those dreams had plagued Draco. That
impression came home full-force when Potter added, �I�m sorry if you did.�

�� Draco
turned away, biting the inside of his cheek savagely to contain his
disappointment and humiliation. He had sworn that he would never offer himself
to someone who didn�t want him again, and that promise had seemed possible to
keep when he was in the middle of the situation with Potter. But outside that,
Potter apparently felt free to deny him.

�� We have to
solve this riddle and find the keys to unlock the wards,� Potter said, in a
condescending tone. �Don�t you think that�s more important than coming,
Malfoy?�

�� Draco
turned back around. He knew the tactic to use now. If he was injured, the best
thing to do was injure in return. �Of course,� he said. �At least for someone
like you, who�s so repressed he probably only wanks once a year.�

�� Potter�s
nostrils flared, and he rose to the bait. �It has nothing to do with that! I
told you, this isn�t normal for me. I
did try to discourage you from doing anything to me, remember. You were the one
who demanded that I choose you.�

�� You�re the
one who felt better the instant those chains were around your ankles,� Draco
retorted. �I saw your face, remember? You couldn�t have lied. You were relaxed
and tossing your head, hard and moaning for me.
And you dare act as though you can put all that behind you the minute you�re
out of the bedroom?�

�� Yes.�
Potter looked furious and conflicted, but still without that driving edge to
his anger that Draco was familiar with by now. �Because that�s something I only
need sometimes, I told you, like a�like a medical potion. My normal sexual
response is completely different. I can fuck in different positions at other
times.�

�� Draco
leaned back against the wall and waited until he was sure Potter wasn�t going
to say anything more, but face him, panting and irritated and beautiful. Then
he raised one eyebrow and said, �I see Granger and Weasley have got to you
after all.�

�� Potter went
still, his eyes fixing on Draco. �What do you mean?� he demanded. �Tell me what
you mean by that.�

�� They think
there�s something pathological about you, something wrong with your sexuality,�
Draco said. �And you insist there�s not, but the minute your needs are
fulfilled, you act ashamed of it. You won�t speak of it openly. You won�t admit
you need it except at certain specific times. You won�t even admit that you enjoy it. They�ve got to you. You�re
ashamed.�

�� Potter�s
hands clenched, but still the flames didn�t shimmer around his fingers. Draco
was beginning to wish that he hadn�t done quite such a good job of fucking
Potter�s demons out of him last night, if this was the result. �I am not,�
Potter said between locked teeth. �I simply don�t see the need to talk about it, or do it again until I
need to. Tell me, Malfoy, if we were really lovers, wouldn�t you want me to be
normal?�

�� There you
go again, using words like �normal� that wouldn�t matter to you if you�d
accepted yourself as fully as you�ve told Granger and Weasley,� Draco said. He
shook his head sadly and then locked his eyes on Potter�s, so that he didn�t
have the chance to turn away. �If we were really lovers, I would want you to be
yourself, as hard as you can.�

�� Potter�s
lips parted, and his eyes flamed. Draco thought he was trembling on the edge of
something in that moment, and the something might have been a step towards
Draco. Draco tried to make his expression as welcoming as possible.

�� But then
Potter turned his eyes away and shook his head. �It doesn�t make sense for you
to say something like that,� he said. �And I didn�t come here to find someone
like you. I came to solve the riddles.�

�� For no other
reason?� Draco murmured. He wouldn�t let the moment go until Potter pried it
away from him. It had been too close
to what happened between them last night, giving him such a clear glimpse that
he longed for it now and wouldn�t be satisfied until it was brought into
existence. �I hardly thought you likely someone to come and go at the behest of
the Ministry.�

�� Potter�s
gaze snapped to him. Draco didn�t see the anger in it, still, but the clear,
uncertain curiosity he had felt himself this morning, when he couldn�t stop
thinking of Potter. He smiled, because he couldn�t help it.

�� Potter
turned his back decisively. �We should think about the last line of the riddle,
too,� he said, as if their discussion had never happened. �Look unto the last. What�s the last, and what does it have to do
with Venus or magical creatures?�

�� Draco bit
the heel of his hand in frustration. But he would not show the emotions if
Potter wouldn�t. He was not going to be Potter�s servant or the conduit for the
recovery of his sexuality. Potter would have to do that himself if he was going
to do it at all.

�� He could
mourn the chance lost and gone, however. That was something Potter would
probably be incapable of doing even if he was refusing Draco for a rational
reason.

�� He stepped
up beside Potter and bent over his shoulder, taking a petty pleasure in the way
that Potter shuffled when he felt Draco�s warm breath on his ear. �I don�t know
what it means,� he murmured. �The prior riddle? The riddle that led us to the
lake was obviously meant to be solved before this one, since it hid the bubble
that held this one. Or perhaps the location? We might learn something if we go
out to the lake.�

�� As Draco
had thought he would, Potter snatched eagerly at the suggestion, stepping away
from him and striding to the door of Severus�s room. �Let�s do that. At least
few people should be out there now, and Hermione will stay away from us because
I filled her mouth with metal.� He made a complicated sound that Draco thought
was not a snicker.

�� Draco
started to follow him, but Severus cleared his throat first. Draco looked up
and caught the portrait�s sardonic gaze.

�� Draco
flushed. He could read what Severus was suggesting or saying well despite the
silence. Was the knowledge he had gained by listening at the door worth it? Was
sleeping with Potter worth it, when Potter remained Potter despite all that had
passed between them, holding on to ideals of normality?

�� The only
answer Draco could offer before he followed Potter was a shrug. He didn�t know
whether it had been worth it, and that was the only honest answer he could
give.

*

�� Harry stood
on the bank of the lake, concentrating fiercely on the water. It was late in
the afternoon now, and the stars would be coming out soon. Perhaps the
reflection of Venus in the water, if it shone at all, would tell them
something.

�� Malfoy
stood beside him. He didn�t move the way Harry did, when he had to ease the
weight on his feet or an ache in his side that had formed with standing for too
long. He could give his attention to a single object and then cease to exist in
the contemplation of that object. Harry remembered him being like that in
Potions at Hogwarts, too, where he would earn better marks than almost anyone
in the class because he could fixate�

�� Harry
yanked his gaze away, flushing, and then turned to kick a small pebble into the
lake. The ripples that broke the surface passed in front of Malfoy�s eyes, but
he gave no sign that he noticed.

�� Harry
clenched his fists. He couldn�t have said why Malfoy bothered him so much,
except that Harry had assumed they had an understanding about the incident
yesterday and wouldn�t mention it again. He had been happy not thinking of it
or reverting to it until Malfoy brought us up.

�� And why did he do that? Harry sneaked
another glance. Malfoy had remained in the same posture for twenty minutes now,
but he didn�t look stiff or bored. He
must know that us being together in any way is impossible.

�� Of course,
Harry hastily reminded himself, Malfoy had given no indication that he wanted that. He simply wanted to fuck Harry
again, to assert his authority. It wasn�t surprising. That way, he could have
control of the partnership, too.

�� He probably
assumed that he would get sole credit for discovering the secret of the riddles
in the press, if he played his cards right.

�� Harry
grimaced. He can have it, as far as I�m
concerned. Not that I care enough to tell him that. He gave another
sideways look at Malfoy, who had started frowning as though he assumed the answer
would rise from the lake if he just scowled hard enough. He ought to know I like my privacy by now.

�� The thought
would probably have led him into another gloomy round of speculations and
castigations to himself for being stupid enough to trust Malfoy in the first
place, but suddenly Malfoy took a step back and laughed.

�� Harry
tensed instinctively at the laughter. Deep, ringing, loud, joyous�it wasn�t the
sort of sound he associated with Malfoy at all, let alone at a time when they
were both baffled and had had a frustrating row earlier. Well, more frustrating
for Malfoy than for Harry, at any rate. That was something to take comfort in.

�� Maybe he�s finally gone off his nut, Harry
decided, wondering if that would be good for Harry himself or not. Well, if it
coordinated with a tendency to forget intense sexual experiences, it would be.
�Malfoy?� he asked cautiously.

�� I was
ignoring certain parts of the riddle,� Malfoy said, and turned to him with a
wide grin that made Harry shudder. Ron had grinned like that when he thought he
had a brilliant solution to the conflict between Harry and the Ministry over
Hogwarts: that Harry should become a teacher there. �The last line is the most
important. Why would it be isolated from the rest and in a different case if it
wasn�t?�

�� All
right,� Harry said. �But what does it mean?�

�� Malfoy
seized the riddle parchment from his pocket and twisted it around to show to
Harry. �The last,� he said triumphantly. �We have to look at the last. The last
word, Potter, don�t you see? And the
last word is beauty.�

�� Harry could
see that, even from the insane angle Malfoy was holding the riddle at, as if he
expected Harry to read it with his head on one side like a bird. �I can see. So
what?�

�� Malfoy
laughed again and then reached out, grabbed a quill and an inkwell from what
seemed thin air but must have been the depths of his sleeves, and began to
scribble on the back of the parchment. Harry stepped around him to see and
tried to ignore the sensation of warmth that blazed up at him through Malfoy�s
robes. It wasn�t as though he had to
touch him.

�� Unless he
wanted to.

�� Harry held
his breath for a moment until Malfoy was finished, so that his chest wouldn�t
accidentally touch Malfoy�s back. They brushed shoulders anyway when Malfoy
turned and held out the parchment to him. Harry flushed and tried to focus on
the letters.

�� It simply
looked as though Malfoy had rewritten the word BEAUTY, though with the first three vowels more widely spaced apart
from the consonants surrounding them. E�� A�� U
said the paper, and still Harry didn�t see what was supposed to be so special
about that. He gave Malfoy a look that he knew was full of baffled
incomprehension.

�� Malfoy
sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned the parchment over. �We mistook the meaning
of the word legend in the second
line,� he said, stabbing the riddle with one finger. �A legend can be a story,
sure.� He paused triumphantly. �It can also mean a piece of writing.�

�� Harry
blinked. �And that, combined with the letters in the word �beauty,� tells you
what?�

�� Malfoy
laughed. �There�s only one creature that walks on four legs in the world around
us and on eight legs�the eight legs of letters�and two tails�the tails of
curved letters�in our writing, as well as having those three vowels in the same
order as the word beauty.� He turned the parchment over and copied out another
word, in capital letters this time, then once again held it out to Harry.

�� CENTAUR.

�� Harry did
want to smack himself in the forehead with one hand when he saw that Malfoy had
explained it that way. �So the clue to the riddle is going to be in the
Forbidden Forest,� he said. �All right. But where? Are we supposed to go and
ask the centaurs to please give up whatever it was that Dumbledore and Snape
asked them to hide?�

�� Malfoy
flipped the parchment again and tapped the third line. �We should have paid
more attention to everything about this riddle, and that includes the third
line. �Cross the sky.� Wherever Venus
appears to set, or rise, in the Forbidden Forest is the place we want.�

�� But
doesn�t that change with the seasons, or something?� Long-ago memories of
Astronomy were struggling to surface in Harry�s mind. He rubbed his head and
wished that thinking didn�t have to be so painful.

�� There�s a joke in that that Malfoy or
Hermione would find, he decided, and then decided that he also wasn�t going
to think about that anymore. He had enough to deal with, given the
condescending look that Malfoy had just tossed him.

�� I can
still make the necessary calculations,� Malfoy said, waving a hand. �And the
centaurs are doubtless included in the riddle because we�ll have to fight one
to get the clue free. Like I said, we should have paid attention to the whole
riddle. It�s one integrated unit, no matter how strange it might seem.�

�� Harry
nodded. Then he paused, his mind flickering back to something that he might
have put more importance on at the time if he had been thinking about the
riddles then.

�� I think I
might know where we need to go,� he said slowly.

*

�� Draco had
been proud of his brilliance earlier that afternoon. He had stood by the lake,
and the answers had seemed to rise from the bottom of his mind like fish rising
from the water, conveying the obvious question: why couldn�t �the last� refer
to the last word on the parchment? It was as likely as anything else, and the
different forms of the letters�capital in most of the riddle, lower-case in
that last line�was a clue that it would have something to do with writing.

�� Now that he
was trudging through the Forbidden Forest behind Potter, who swatted branches
out of the way as if he did this for a living, he was more dissatisfied with
himself, and he couldn�t stop thinking about why.

�� Potter had
still been the one to come up with the place that they would need to visit.
When he had explained about the white centaur and the blackened clearing, Draco
had to agree that it was worth taking a look at.

�� But why
should the solution depend, yet again, on those sudden skips of Potter�s
unaided and inexplicable intuition, rather than on Draco�s subtle and brilliant
calculations with the Astronomical instruments, as he thought it should?

�� Of course,
he could have refused to visit the clearing and insisted that Potter let him
make the calculations. But he knew Potter would have set out on his own, and he
did think that Potter�s conclusion was right, much as he didn�t want to think
that.

�� And had
Potter praised him for his brilliance, asked him how he achieved the answer to
the second riddle, or looked at him with the adoration that Draco had seen in
his vision in the lake?

�� He had not.

�� He kicked a
stone in front of him, and it went rolling away and rebounded from the trunk of
a tree with a ringing sound that shouldn�t have traveled so far through the
Forest, Draco thought, wincing. Then again, there was no reason for the laws of
nature in the Forbidden Forest to be the same as those elsewhere.

�� Potter
whirled around and stared at him. �Is something the matter?� he asked, his eyes
searching past Draco�s shoulder for Merlin knew what danger.

�� Draco shook
his head and gestured Potter curtly to go on. Potter raised an eyebrow and did
so.

�� The raised
eyebrow stayed with Draco, and so did the doubtful expression on Potter�s face.
It looked as though he thought Draco was irrational or stupid, but he was too
polite to say so. Draco was the one
who should be feeling that, after the way that Potter had repudiated his offer
this morning.

�� Potter
halted and lifted one cautious hand. Draco peered in front of him, but could
see no lessening of the trunks. �What�s the matter?� he whispered irritably.
�We obviously aren�t in the clearing yet.�

�� Obviously,�
Potter snapped back. �But I thought I heard hoofbeats.�

�� Draco drew
his wand in silence, keeping his eyes on the trees around him while straining
his own ears. Nothing happened, and the silence seemed to grow thicker and
stronger the longer he listened. He let his gaze come back to Potter and raised
an eyebrow of his own.

�� I did hear
them,� Potter said. He didn�t look inclined to doubt himself because Draco did.
That irritated Draco, primarily because he had been looking forwards to
watching Potter flounder around in circles. �And we�re close enough to the
clearing now that there could be centaurs about, if not the one we want.� He
gestured to the burned footsteps on the forest floor, the trail of marks he�d
caused with his magical flames a few days ago, and which had led them this far.
�These are more frequent now. I know that I was shedding more and more magic��

�� And
destroying more and more of the Forest,� Draco felt compelled to add.

�� Potter
scowled at him again. �The closer I got to the clearing,� he finished
determinedly. �It has to be close.
That white centaur acted like he was guarding something. I know he was.�

�� Draco
decided not to say that, in his opinion, Potter hadn�t thought that at the time
and had simply added the detail to his memory later based on his new hope. It
cost him nothing to remain calm and still and listen.

�� And yes,
there was the soft sound of a foot disturbing the leaf mold not far from them.
It might have been a human foot, but this far out in the Forest, Draco thought
it significantly more likely to be a magical creature. He turned to face it and
raised his voice. �If you guard the secret that Professors Snape and Dumbledore
wanted you to hide, we�ve come to claim it from you.�

�� Potter
grabbed his arm roughly, which wasn�t exactly the kind of skin-to-skin contact
Draco had been craving, but at least was contact. �Malfoy, what you are doing?�
he whispered harshly into Draco�s ear.

�� Using my
time wisely,� Draco said, and walked a few steps closer to the rustling noise.
�Are you coming out?�

�� There was a
pause, which Draco thought their opponent was trying and failing to make
dramatic, and then a white centaur emerged through the gap in the nearest line
of trees, stopping there so that he was framed by the branches. He was taller
than most centaurs Draco had seen, with flowing hair and a beard that could
have rivaled Dumbledore�s. He scraped his left forehoof on the ground,
producing the rustling sound they had heard before, and then inclined his head.

�� You are
brave to venture this far into the Forest when the sun is falling,� he said.
�Come and fight me.�

�� Draco
hesitated, trying to figure out the trap in this. The water-snakes had been a
surprise, attacking without warning, and he had assumed that all their other
challenges would be the same way. A straightforward invitation to fight wasn�t
something he had expected.

�� Not as
brave as that,� the centaur remarked. �It seems that your courage needs more
reinforcement from your common sense. You should have come earlier.� He took a
bow and quiver of arrows from nowhere, or so it seemed, so neatly did his hands
move, and was stringing an arrow before Draco thought about it.

�� Potter
raised a Shield Charm in front of them and then stepped towards the centaur.
His eyes were wild, a slight smile tugging at his lips, and Draco thought he
glimpsed the man who had been both hero and Auror in his time, and had become
someone who needed bonds to control him. �I�ll fight with you,� he said. �No
reason to involve Malfoy in it.�

�� You
should,� the centaur said. �He understands more of darkness than you do.� And
he shot.

�� The arrow
passed through Potter�s Shield Charm as if it were mist and straight into his
shoulder. Potter, the expressions of surprise and agony warring on his face,
grabbed the arrow shaft and hissed in pain. Then he sank to the forest floor,
while keeping an eye on the centaur and holding up his wand in a shaking hand.

�� Draco
watched blood well up from the wound in dark droplets before he truly absorbed
what had happened.

�� He whirled
around and lifted his wand in turn, only to find that the centaur had
disappeared. A soft rustling sound behind him made him duck frantically, and
the second arrow swished overhead. Draco turned his head automatically to track
it, but it had vanished instead of lodging in a tree the way he expected.

�� This kind
of arrow is meant to stir up the darkness in living flesh,� the centaur said,
in the tone of someone giving an Astronomy lesson, and then Draco heard the
singing hum of the bow bending beneath the weight of another arrow. �Perhaps
you should look at your companion if you wish to learn what will happen then.�

�� Draco
really wanted to keep his eyes on the centaur, provided he could find him
again, but the words seemed to grab his face and turn it so that he was looking
at Potter.

�� Or, rather,
the writhing blot of darkness where Potter had been.

*

�� They are coming back again.

�� The cool
voice seemed to speak in Harry�s head a moment before all the evil in him
leaped up through the barriers he had thought were containing it.

�� There was a
spitting, splitting noise, and Harry found himself tumbled through his hatred
and resentment of Dumbledore and Snape when he had first thought in any detail
about what they had done and planned to do to him, and his willingness to leave
the piece of Voldemort�s soul lying right there in King�s Cross, and the
killing anger he had felt after the war when the Ministry tried to condemn
innocent people to death�combined with his secret wish that some of them could be condemned, that he didn�t have
to fight for those who would have been willing to watch him die.

�� Here was
the darkness that had led him to use Unforgivable Curses casually by the end of
the war, and which had wanted him to use it again when he faced the Carrows
across a courtroom.

�� Here was
the vicious pleasure that had exploded inside of him when he watched Molly
Weasley kill Bellatrix Lestrange�so vicious that he hadn�t even recognized the
emotion until he thought about it later.

�� Here was
the mixture of rage and despair that had drowned him when he realized the Auror
program would never treat him like simply another trainee, that he was and
would forever be someone�s villain or someone�s hero.

�� Here was
the frustration that had assaulted him when he realized that he would lose the
struggle against the Ministry to keep Hogwarts free�inevitably lose it, because
there was no way that he could succeed.

�� And there,
perhaps deepest of all, was the drowning pool of disgust that swallowed him
whenever his sanity outweighed his need and he had to confront being bound to
the bed and fucked by a stranger just to keep from burning down the buildings
around him.

�� He was
coated with contempt, filled with his crimes, diminished by his constant
attempts to rise above them, because the attempts always failed. The anger rose
that might consume him if he let it.

�� With the
anger came the magic.

�� Harry
opened his eyes and found his vision consumed by filth whichever direction he
looked in. His body was running, dripping with it, bleeding bloody tar. His
hands were stained with it; they would never be clean. Fire ran with the slime
and scarred the forest floor, digging down, bruising and battering and burning
the earth.

�� A voice was
calling, or might be calling, or could be calling, to him outside the magic and
the whirl of fire. Harry refused to see why he should listen. There was nothing
he could do but try to hold back the fire as long as he still had the power to
do so. He tried to wrap the familiar barriers around himself, thinking of what
he could do when he found someone who
would gratify him�

�� And the
disgust met him head-on. Who was he that he should need that? Ron and Hermione were right. It was abnormal, he had no
reason for such a thing except the darkest possible hang-ups resulting from his
abuse and Dumbledore�s manipulation, and he hadn�t even suffered that much or
lost that many people in the war, compared to some people. Why did he react so strongly
to mental wounds that chains were the only things that could compensate?

�� His chest
was heaving. Murder and war and revolt ran wild in his veins.

�� He fell
back into the darkness, the barriers breaking apart as they tried to emerge,
and he was lost to the voice.

*

�� Draco,
still dodging the arrows, spoke Potter�s first name and then his last name over
and over again, in a steady and calm voice, and never looked away from him.
Despite what the centaur had said, he thought that Potter might have the chance
to catch hold of Draco�s words and rise from the fountain of dirt that seemed
to be devouring him. They had shared an intimate encounter in which Draco�s
voice could command him, after all.

�� But the
darkness remained, and Draco decided that he could do nothing for Potter at the
moment. He would have to stop the centaur and his arrows first.

�� He already
knew Shield Charms wouldn�t work. He wondered, though, if something more
unorthodox, more daring, would. He began to smile as he considered it, and the
centaur noticed.

�� You cannot
fight me,� he said, gently, mournfully. �They hid the secret with me, in light,
and I am the light that searches out the depths of your soul. I bring the
secrets to the surface, the buried things, and you cannot face them.�

�� Draco
tossed his head back and dropped the shields he had been beginning to brew. He
faced the centaur, naked of anything except his wand, which swept back and
forth in front of him, low and parallel to the ground. The centaur paused,
scraping a hoof on the earth and studying him carefully.

�Strike at me,� Draco said quietly.
�You might find more than you expected.�

The centaur moved with flowing
speed, stringing and shooting the arrow so quickly that Draco began to think
his earlier escapes had been luck. The arrow whistled across the distance
between them and struck him in the shoulder. The darkness sank into him and
began to rise from within him at the same time.

Draco shut his eyes and confronted
the darkness with his utter lack of barriers.

�� The arrow
sent poison into him, seeking to free the hidden poisons he had filled himself
with. And it could find nothing that Draco had not already confronted and
alchemized as part of himself, no place where he had not already been.

�� Draco had
struggled with other things than becoming a Potions master in the years after
the war. He had struggled with his shame and frustration over not doing
something glorious when it seemed every other student at Hogwarts was a war
hero. He had struggled with the fact that he hadn�t actually saved his parents,
and that he�d been stupid enough to believe Voldemort in the first place when
he said Draco could. He had struggled with the memory of Severus, the jealousy
he felt when other people did better than he did, the heart-gnawing rage he
still experienced when he saw Potter�s picture in the paper. He struggled with
the fact that his name was tarnished and would be for generations.

�� All that
he�d been raised to believe he would have and would serve had been destroyed.
The Dark Lord was a shadow and a lie. His parents had played no more glorious
part than saving Harry Potter�s life when the Dark Lord believed he was
dead�something that changed the course of the war, yes, but not the kind of
blazing deed performed before dozens of witnesses, and not something that
anyone outside a small, select group of people would even believe had happened.
Draco wasn�t a Malfoy, heir to an astonishing legacy. He was an
eighteen-year-old in a world that didn�t want him.

�� All of that
he had faced. All of that he had conquered or subdued or learned to live with.
He had made vows that embraced the future rather than the past, such as the one
about never sleeping with someone who didn�t want him.

�� He was not
without flaw, but he was without self-deception. He faced those things Severus
and his parents and the world had taught them and made the wounds his sign of
strength. And the thoughts that would have terrified other people, of becoming
too powerful or hurting his enemies or performing the Dark Arts, were his
secret dreams at night.

�� He embraced
the darkness, and the light of the centaur�s arrow found no fear of it in him.

�� He opened
his eyes and saw that the centaur had backed away from him. His white coat was
luminescent, and his hoof continued to stamp and scrape, but it sent sparks up
now. He had no bow or arrows any longer.

�� I had not
thought a Dark wizard would come here,� he whispered. He grew brighter and
brighter, until Draco had to squint and blink to see him. �I surrender.�

�� He tossed
something that Draco caught without thinking about it, only remembering later
that the centaur was an enemy and this could have been anything from a weapon
to poison. But it turned out to be a large globe made of some material like
flexible glass, though not quite as transparent. Looking into it, Draco could
make out two twists of parchment.

�� When he
looked up, the centaur was fading into the last of the sunlight.

�� How do I
heal Potter?� Draco shouted after him.

�� The
infection of my arrow cannot be healed, only contained,� came the voice of a
whispering ghost, �unless the one touched by it faces and accepts his demons.�

�� Draco
cursed and raced across the clearing to kneel beside Potter as the centaur
faded completely into the flood of sunlight. Of course the one thing that could
stop this infection would be the one thing that Potter was unlikely to do.

�� He clamped
his hands into place on Potter�s neck and shoulders, hoping that pain and
restraint might do what words alone could not do, and then spent a few moments
composing himself, trying to ignore the dark flood of fire and filth that
poured over his hands. When he spoke, his voice had the light, cool tone he had
used when giving orders to Potter in the Room of Requirement. �Come back.�

*

�� He was
drowning. Ron and Hermione had been right. Dumbledore had been manipulative. He
had not lost much in the war against Voldemort, some people had lost their
families or their lives, Teddy had lost his parents,
why was he so angry? He should be sane, and he wasn�t. He should be happy, and
he wasn�t. He should have a family, and he didn�t.

�� There was
no end to the accusations, and no method by which he could cope with or handle
them. He was going to drown, and he thought that he might as well let it
happen.

�� Then a
voice called out above him, giving him an order, a directive, to obey. �Come
back.�

�� Harry
paused, gasping. The dirt stopped flowing out of him and allowed him to hang
motionless in the middle of it, spinning in place and staring up at the
surface, from which the glittering thread of hope had descended.

�� The thread
was there, was real, and the voice that said, �Come back,� giving him no option
to escape from it, was Malfoy�s.

�� Harry
closed his eyes. How could he sleep with Malfoy again, knowing what he knew
about himself?

�� But the
voice didn�t say that he had to do that, or even be bound. It said simply that
he had to come back. And to do that, Harry had to build barriers that would put
the secrets back into their places and protect them the way they had been
protected beforehand.

�� Come
back,� the voice said. It didn�t say how. That was up to him to figure out.

�� Harry
extended his hands to either side and seized two squirming handfuls of the
blackness. He stuffed them back down and into himself, preventing them from
escaping as they wanted. He then grabbed the whirling thoughts and stuffed them
down. Yes, he was selfish and horrible and twisted and sick and a waste of
human life, but he would have to think about that after he had reached the point where he could open his eyes and see
Malfoy�s face.

�� Again and
again the order thrummed in his ears, and again and again it gave him strength,
as nothing else could have, to struggle against the darkness and tell it to
learn its place, that it was not the whole of him and could not consume the whole
of his will.

�� That was
wrong. He was sick and twisted, and he should have learned some other way to
cope with his problems. His friends� voices chattered in his ears, and
Hermione�s face glowed with tears, and there was no solution.

�� But there
could be a solution later, after
Harry had escaped from the immediate problem that no solution would fix. He
flung himself into that, and the void groaned around him and responded. It
became not a void, but stuffed with flesh, choked with bitterness, filled with
evil. Yes, it was still there, yes, it was horrible, and yes, Harry thought
that anyone who looked at him had to be disgusted. But the point was that it stayed there and allowed him to come
closer and closer to what else he needed to do.

�� He opened
his eyes, and saw Malfoy�s face above him.

*

�� Draco would
not have admitted how relieved he was when the darkness stopped flowing across
his hands and the last of the stain became intangible and fell away. But
Potter�s eyes still showed no sense, so he kept repeating his words until they
snapped open and were staring at him, lit with a darkness that was only human,
that of pupil and iris.

�� Malfoy.�
Potter�s voice was hoarse and harsh. He sounded as if he�d been screaming for
hours. Draco reckoned that it was possible he had, somewhere deep inside and
far away where Draco couldn�t have heard him. Potter cleared his throat and sat
up, shaking his head as if he assumed that he still had slime to clear from his
hair. He glanced at the bubble in Draco�s hand. �That�s the riddle?�

�� And the
keyword that will unlock the wards,� Draco said, watching him carefully. He
would take his cue from Potter, he thought, and react as he reacted.

�� We should
get out of here,� Potter said. �It�ll be dark soon.�

�� Draco
frowned. Taking his cue from Potter had not meant being confronted by a
senseless mask of flesh that refused to acknowledge anything of what had
happened between them.

�� He stayed
silent, however, until they reached the eaves of the Forest and Potter leaned
against the nearest trunk with a gasp, closing his eyes. Then Draco stepped up
beside him and murmured, �The centaur said that his infection couldn�t be
healed, only contained, until you faced your demons.�

�� Potter
spoke without looking at him. �And I contained it.� He hesitated, then added,
�I might not come by tomorrow. I�ll have to seek someone out who can help me
contain this more than I have so far.�

�� Draco drove
his nails into Potter�s shoulder. Potter sagged towards him, then seemed to
realize what he was doing and straightened up.

�� Why do
so?� Draco whispered against his ear. �When I�m willing and ready to help you
with that?�

�� Because
this has nothing to do with anger,� Potter said. �And some of the things I learned
when the arrow hit me have changed my mind about what we did yesterday. The
chains, though, can be conjured or made by a skilled locksmith. I�ll find
someone.� He stepped away from Draco.

�� Draco
pinched harder with his nails. �You�re being ridiculous,� he said. �And
endangering more than just your own life, by giving me a partner who might go
into battle still suffering from a magical infection.�

�� I promise
you that won�t happen,� Potter said, and broke away, striding rapidly down the
road towards Hogsmeade.

�� Draco
closed his eyes and stood there in anger of his own as profound, he thought, as
anything Potter suffered from, although it didn�t produce flames racing up and
down his body.

�� Severus, he
thought when he looked at Potter�s distant shape, would have laughed.

*

�� polka dot: I
do agree Harry�s fucked-up, though Harry still can�t feel sorry for the people
who are a large part of the reason he feels this way.

�� EarlyDawn:
Thank you so much!

�� myniephoenix:
Thanks!

�� Night the
Storyteller: No. At least, Harry couldn�t tolerate a relationship like that
outside the bedroom, and Draco would have to have a lot more preparation before
he would accept it.

�� W�lkchen:
Thank you! I�m trying to show why Harry would choose a path like this, and why
Draco would also participate, which is one reason that the experience was so
intense; I wanted to show the readers what the characters themselves were
experiencing.

�� Dochken:
Not in this case, but that was a very good guess.

�� tyree: Thanks
for reviewing! However, I can�t see your e-mail address, so I couldn�t add you
to the mailing list.

�� JtheChosen1:
Thanks so much!

�� Shadow
Lily: I�m interested; did you figure out the riddle?

�� Draco would
be willing to try and be what Harry needs, but Harry is being stubborn and
stupid.

�� Caldonya: I
was a bit nervous about that, but mostly I was simply avoiding the work
inherent in editing such a long-ass chapter.

�� purple-er:
Thank you!

�� thrnbrooke:
Thanks!
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Chosen Chains