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Here to Live and Die	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5857 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Five—Dawning of Summer

            “Harry. You have to come see this.”

            Harry came awake sharply. He couldn’t decipher the tone in Hermione’s voice, and for a moment, he wished he had the kind of bond with her that he did with Draco.

            Do you?

            Harry winced at the hooked and stinging drag of those words over his mind, and put out his arm to rest his hand on Draco’s shoulder, but he had already rolled away, to the other side of their bed of packed moss, and was silently pulling on his boots. Harry sighed and sat up, using his nearest winds to carry his clothes over to him. One thing he didn’t want was for Hermione to see him naked.

            At least you show some vestiges of good sense.

            Harry didn’t choose to respond to this one. Draco knew the confusion that boiled up in him, and its cause, and he could decide whether Harry was guilty enough or not for wishing to be bonded to someone else. Harry thought his business at the moment was to go out there and see what Hermione wanted him for, so he concentrated on clothes alone until his shirt was mostly buttoned and his trousers all the way there.

            “Come on.”

            Harry rolled his eyes and walked towards the entrance of the tent. If Hermione wanted him to know that badly while he still wasn’t out there and couldn’t see whatever she was jumping up and down and pointing at, she could have explained it to him in words he could comprehend.

            I couldn’t agree more.

            By that, Harry knew he was forgiven. He reached out as Draco went by and trailed one hand down his shoulder. Draco bowed his head a little and stayed a second longer than necessary under Harry’s touch before they both emerged into the open air.

            And once they were there and had followed Hermione’s pointing finger to the sky, Harry understood. Hermione’s descriptions wouldn’t have made any sense until they could see for themselves. It was beyond what Harry knew about Hurricane from their explorations or the winds, the same way the thunderrin had been until they saw them for the first time and learned a little bit about them that way.

            Overhead traveled immense groups of what Harry took at first to be the riders’ beasts, and then great birds of the kind that Ginny flew. Then he saw that they seemed to have no legs at all. They soared overhead, on wings that pulsed up and down as though something else, not their owners’ wills, was flapping them. Their heads were narrow and pointed, and their bodies swelled out. They looked most like winged snakes, Harry thought as he stared at them. Snakes that had eaten a meal—although they did have horned crests on their heads, so perhaps what they most resembled was dragons.

            A mass of golden dragons, passing so thickly across the sky that every hint of its normal dark blue was lost behind them. Harry could still feel the winds, although they were cramped and thinned out by passing through the narrow gaps that the dragons left between them. The world was almost silent, save for the weird pulsating beat of those wings and the occasional sound as the humans on the ground stared at them.

            The mummidade, grazing, paid no attention. Neither did the riders and their beasts, for the most part, although Harry saw Open Wings standing on the slope of the meadow, his talons resting casually on Swoop’s neck, as though he needed to keep him from rising. He caught Harry’s eye and smiled a little.

            Harry shook his head and loped up to him. By the time he got there, Draco had fallen into place at his shoulder, and four mummidade had detached themselves from the nearest herd and fallen into the familiar configuration of Westshadow, the mummid who had first let them connect and communicate with the riders.

            You realize you’re thinking as though Westshadow is really one creature, not four?

            Harry shrugged. That’s the way they think of it, he answered. Best to let our allies define themselves, don’t you agree?

            No response from Draco. Harry turned around and waited as Westshadow positioned itself, one body near him, one near Draco, one near Open Wings, one near Swoop. This time, Westshadow didn’t have them touch it between various pairs of its horns, the way it had in the past. Harry thought it had become used enough to their minds that it didn’t need the tactile contact any more to reach them.

            As always, Draco whined between his teeth when the extra bond clicked into place, like a great steel ring that drove through the center of Harry’s chest, down into the earth, and back up again and through the center of the chest of each of the other participants in the bond. Harry could see what he meant—it was irritating, especially because the effect went all through them and there was no way to escape it—but he was used to it by now, the same way Westshadow was used to him. He plunged ahead.

            What are those things? He flickered his head and one hand up at the bodies of the creatures flying overhead, just so that there was no chance Open Wings could mistake him.

            Open Wings tilted his head, while Draco did some more whining behind him and Westshadow stood rigid. I know what you are talking about. Those are the creatures we call the Tssisid, and they are migrating.

            Harry blinked for a moment. The first name had come through untranslated, and that made him wonder about the second. Where are they going? I didn’t think Hurricane had any creatures that—migrated.

            He used the word cautiously, in case it wasn’t the right one, but from the way Open Wings nodded (a human gesture he had picked up and seemed to find useful), it was right. They go from the mountains in the further north to the waters in the far south. We think they hunt there and breed there, although we don’t know because we have never followed them that far. Our beasts cannot keep up with them.

            Harry tilted his head back, a response in his thoughts about how fast the beasts could fly, and then fell silent again. Well, maybe. The Tssisid skimmed overhead, and every time Harry blinked, a new one had taken the place of the creature he had been looking at. Or so it seemed, anyway. It was like trying to count individual ripples of water in a stream, they were so identical.

            Does their coming mean anything important? Draco asked, what he obviously thought was the question that most mattered. Harry poked him through their private bond, but Draco said nothing, waiting with his eyes on Open Wings’s face.

            Behind them come the storms, said Open Wings. They herald the summer.

            How is that different from the spring? Harry had to ask. He had already encountered some storms, especially one he and Draco had met on the southern plains while going to look at the ocean, that made him understand why the Unspeakables who had made the initial exploration had named the planet Hurricane.

            Did you not notice that the storms had gone quiet lately? Open Wings held one hand out flat, his talons spreading. They are coming again with the summer.

            Harry grimaced. It was true that he had only needed to ride out one storm lately, and that had been a minor one it was easy to turn away from the meadow. He hadn’t noticed it, the same way he hadn’t noticed the lack of persecution in the wizarding world for a few months after the war, when people still respected him.

            How bad will they be? Draco interjected, applying an elbow to Harry’s ribs.

            They are destroyers, said Open Wings simply.

            Oh, wonderful, Draco said, although with the way he clutched Harry’s arm for a moment, it was hard for Harry to tell if the words were coming down their private bond or the common one that they shared with the mummidade and Open Wings. Of course they would be. Of course we don’t get done fighting one enemy on this bloody planet, and it throws something else at us.

            From the way Open Wings tilted his head to the side and clattered his beak, he might not know exactly what “bloody” meant, but he knew it meant nothing good. Harry shot Draco a sharp look and turned back to Open Wings. Do the Tssisid ever stop and eat anyone? Anything, I mean?

            Open Wings spread his hands again. No, they do not. They are important only as heralds of the summer. We do not know for certain where they go, or what they eat, and we rarely see them migrate back. We think they pass over the ocean, and it holds their secrets.

            Harry nodded, and then winced as Westshadow backed away and cut the bond between them. Apparently, it considered that they had heard all they needed to hear. Harry would have liked to stay in touch with Open Wings a bit longer, and find out exactly what he knew about the summer and the storms.

            But then Westshadow stamped its hoofs on the ground and cried aloud from all four of its mouths, and six other mummidade broke from the nearby herd, trotting towards it. Harry watched them as they arranged their ten bodies, now and then bowing their heads to touch horns or stamping or scuffing with one back hoof.

            He realized he was holding his breath and stopped himself with a scowl. That was a silly reaction. He wanted to see what the ten mummidade—he had never seen an individual with such a body count before—did, not faint.

            Draco poked him in the ribs again. This time, Harry could concede that he had deserved it.

            The mummidade began to wind around each other, stamping their hooves, bobbing their horns. It reminded Harry for a moment of the dance he and Draco had watched two of them do on the seashore, a dance that had resulted in a young mummid appearing, but in seconds, it became apparent that that dance and this be had nowhere near the same purpose. Where that dance had been perfectly mirrored, flowing, dipping graces and turns, this one broke apart into whirling chaos, mummidade tumbling on the ground and sometimes rolling on their backs, waving their hooves in the air.

            Draco urged Harry backwards out of the way. Harry nodded his thanks as one of the new bodies skittered past his feet. He’d nearly crashed into it, and while he was unsure what effect interrupting their dance would have, he didn’t think it would be good.

            The bodies began leaping and bounding across each other, weaving a pattern in the middle. Harry saw the pattern as one of flying faces before he began to understand it in another way, as his hair blew backwards.

            They were creating a pattern of winds.

            Harry shivered. The mummidade had been in the bond, and must have understood from Westshadow that the humans didn’t have any idea how severe the storms could get. Communicating in images was what the mummidade generally did, but it didn’t always work, since their perspective was so different from a human’s. Instead, they had decided to use winds, to speak to the human with wild magic who could speak to the winds.

            Harry could feel the contained edges of that building storm. He flinched each time something struck him, a blow from a breeze that felt like a whip. The mummidade were balancing on each other’s backs now, their hooves digging into the soft white wool of their companions.

            Harry heard other people—other humans—saying things, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from the dance before him, or his attention away from the furiously snarling winds building up between the mummidade.

            Then the mummidade’s pattern broke apart in a splintering of bodies, as they cartwheeled into the air and touched down almost on their horns, and their created storm leaped out of its safe confinement and blew straight at Harry.

            Harry didn’t have time to do more than try and reach for his own winds. The ones the mummidade had conjured slammed into him and bore him off his feet, flipping so fast that at one point he felt his head hit his own back. Then he was on the ground and gasping, no air making it into his lungs.

            Draco leaned down above him—Harry saw him more as a bright flash than anything recognizable—and slammed his fist into the center of Harry’s chest.

            Harry gasped and wheezed, and the air came back. He managed to roll over and come up on one arm, while he used the other one to grab Draco’s shoulder as he turned to face the mummidade with his hands out and his invisible claws lengthening.

            “They didn’t mean to do that,” Harry said, talking as fast as he could. Draco looked as if he wouldn’t listen long before simply moving forwards and committing murder. “You know they didn’t, Draco. They were creating a miniature storm to warn us about the dangers of the ones coming in the summer.”

            They could have used a smaller one. Draco’s side of the bond was filled with a thick, vibrating emptiness that made Harry wince. He wouldn’t have wanted to face it if they were alone. He would have wanted to go flying and hope Draco had calmed down by the time he got back. Draco couldn’t follow him into the depths of the sky unless Harry lifted him with wind.

            But instead, they had an audience, and Harry had to intervene for the sake of that audience. He forced himself to stand up, to move between Draco and the mummidade, and speak calmly and sanely.

            “They didn’t hurt me on purpose. And if they hadn’t used a wind like that, would we have taken their warnings as seriously?”

            Draco studied him without saying anything. Then he said, in a calm tone that increased Harry’s dread all the more, “You’re limping. And you should see the bruises on your face.”

            “It’ll be more than bruises if the summer storms come and we don’t take them seriously,” Harry said. He faced the mummidade and nodded to them. “You were trying to warn us of that, right?” he asked.

            The mummidade simply looked at him. Harry sighed. He had forgotten that they couldn’t understand someone who wasn’t standing in concert with their bond partner. Individual humans weren’t people to the mummidade, not outside their bond.

            And unfortunately, Harry thought asking Draco to stand with him now and let the mummidade into their minds might get him killed, and from a human direction. He turned back to Draco.

            You’re being ridiculous, he said, switching to the bond. We had plenty of time to run if we really distrusted them.

            Draco sneered at him. You trusted them because you always trust everyone. And look where that’s got us.

            Harry pretended to consider that for a second, and then gave Draco a sharp smile. You’re right. In the middle of a meadow that’s much more like Earth than most of the other places we saw on Hurricane, with allies who defend us and plenty to eat. It really is horrible, where we’ve ended up.

            Draco eyed him warily for a second, and then abruptly turned away and stalked off over the grass. Harry sighed, but dared to relax, slowly. Draco hadn’t got much sleep last night, and it was the middle of the night, still. Harry could understand the short temper that might follow on seeing him hurt.

            Harry turned back to the mummidade and Open Wings. He gave the short whistle that was the riders’ version of “Thank you,” then bowed to the mummidade. They would understand that gesture, since they did a lot of it themselves in their dances and when two of them were touching horns before joining up into a new individual for the first time.

            The mummidade turned and trotted away. Open Wings led Swoop down the far side of the hill. The other humans promptly crowded in around Harry.

            “Do you think we can tame one?” Charlie demanded. He still had his head back and his eyes on the sky, though when Harry checked, the Tssisid migration had narrowed down to a few stray golden dragons soaring above. He smiled. If I thought they looked like dragons, what must have Charlie thought?

            “We’d have to catch one first,” Harry said, temperately. “And they’re so fast that I don’t know how we could.”

            “But you think it would be a good idea to try?” Charlie was turning now to follow the Tssisid as they finished their migration, or so Harry assumed.

            “It doesn’t really matter if I think it’s a good idea,” Harry said, because he felt prepared to say things like that now. “It matters if you do.”

            Charlie blinked at him as though he had no idea why Harry would say something like that. Harry turned to the others. “Do you have any ideas on how we can prepare to resist these storms?” he asked.

            “I can build more houses.”

            Harry blinked and faced Andromeda. He hadn’t even realized that she had come out of the silver house she usually spent time in, and was standing there with Teddy cradled in her arms. When she caught sight of his wide eyes and open jaw, she sniffed a little, probably because she didn’t appreciate him looking like that when she had made a sincere offer of help.

            Harry cleared his throat and did his best to nod in a way that didn’t make him look like a bobbing idiot. “Yes. That would be extremely helpful, Andromeda. Thank you. If you could do it, and build enough of them without exhausting yourself—”

            “What would enough be?” Andromeda demanded. George had come up behind her, and she handed Teddy to him, making George juggle him for a moment before he caught Harry’s eye and realized it wouldn’t be a good idea to drop him. “Give me some idea, a goal to aim for, and I could do it.”

            Harry refused to be the sole decision-maker, though. He turned to Hermione. “What do you think? Should we try and build enough that the mummidade could shelter in them? The riders?” Hermione had spent more time around the riders than any of them since they had moved to the meadow, and understood their language better.

            Hermione blinked and frowned. “I’m not sure that the riders would agree to come into any sorts of shelters that would leave their companions outside,” she said cautiously.

            “As though I could not build large enough shelters to include their beasts,” Andromeda said, tossing her head back and making herself look like the strong, assertive woman Harry remembered so briefly from the war. “But no one has asked me to do it so far. They’ve only wanted houses big enough for a few people—humans—at once.”

            Harry caught Hermione’s eye as she was about to open her mouth, and Hermione nodded grudgingly and closed it. No one had asked Andromeda to contribute those shelters before this because she seemed so adamant against doing anything that would exercise her wild magic. But mentioning it would probably make the situation awkward again, and lead to Andromeda once more refusing to help them.

            “Well, we’ll ask you now,” Hermione said. “I know that creating the houses is usually exhausting for you. Would creating a big one tire you out so much that it wouldn’t be a practical solution?”

            “I can build a single big one, rather than separate houses for all the riders and beasts,” Andromeda said. “Would that not be better, especially since others might come to us once the storms begin and want shelter?”

            Harry had to fight to keep from grinning. Andromeda was coming up with solutions on her own now, taking an active part in things. He had continued to watch her as though she would run off with Teddy again the minute his back was turned, but that had been pessimistic, and maybe not practical. Sooner or later he would have to trust her, and it might as well be about this.

            He took a step back, and left Hermione and Andromeda talking about what would be most practical, with Charlie asking about what preparations the riders might have made in the past and Arthur suggesting they would also have to ask the mummidade. When he was sure no one had noticed his absence and no one else was going to try and ask him questions again that they could easily ask each other, he turned and jogged off in search of Draco.

            He had things he wanted to say, and more he wanted to do.

*

            Draco curled furiously into himself on a slight hill towards the edge of the meadow over which they had watched the thunderrin fly. He could feel his heartbeat shaking him, and it was a long time since that had happened. The war was the last time, maybe, when he could feel his terror over his parents’ lives and his own blasting him. Since then, they had left him, and the last two years have been more about survival than terror.

            And since they had come to Hurricane, Harry had been his partner in the bond, and that seemed to have helped to drain most of the fears off.

            But not all of them, Draco thought, and tucked his head in tighter. Harry should have come after him when Draco had walked away. He should have understood where some of Draco’s fear came from.

            He had almost attacked the mummidade. They had hurt Harry, and it was a natural response, just like the mummidade’s fear was when something attacked an individual mummid that was part of their bond.

            But if he irritated the mummidade enough, then Draco thought they might never teach him and Harry the dance that would guarantee them children.

            Is that part of the reason that you were so upset? Oh, Draco. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t understand that.

            Harry sat down beside him. Draco tucked against his side, because it was hard not to, although he was still stiff when Harry put a tentative arm around him.

            You could have felt it, if you weren’t so busy thinking about other things, Draco muttered.

            Harry did roll his eyes, and Draco could feel it even though he didn’t glance up, as of course he was meant to. Excuse me for thinking that it’s important to prevent you from attacking the allies that we’re finally learning to get along with, instead of following you and comforting you.

            Draco sat up and pushed back from him. Harry met his eyes, and sighed. “Look,” he said aloud. “I am sorry that I didn’t pick up on it. I’m not sorry I stopped you from attacking the mummidade. So there.”

            Draco had to smile despite himself, and he leaned over and kissed Harry. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I do wonder if they’ll ever teach us the dance, though.”

            “We might as well ask them.”

            Draco winced a little. “Tomorrow.”

            “Yes, probably a good idea,” Harry agreed, and stood up to offer him a hand to help him and a shoulder to lean on back home, both of which Draco liked, even though he didn’t need them.

*

            SP777: Because Draco is a demanding little shit and takes up time making Harry deal with his questions. ;)

            Sasunarufan13: Thank you! I hope that Teddy’s brief appearance here was sufficiently adorable. And look! A chapter without Primrose!
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Here to Live and Die