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Burning Day	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10061 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter Five—Darkest Signs
            Harry landed outside the apothecary, and wrapped layers of magic around himself into a Disillusionment Charm. It was hard to concentrate. His sight was wavering, and Harry didn’t think that had anything to do with either his power or magical exhaustion. He was just so fucking angry, and the wavering moved back and forth in time to the pounding of his blood.
            But no one seemed to have noticed him, so far. Two hags were walking down the middle of Knockturn Alley, both contributing to a conversation in which the word “blood” figured prominently. Two warlocks called to them from the other side of the alley, but neither hag turned around. The shop next to Darkest Signs was shuttered, a tall woman walking away from it with a satisfied smile on her face.
            And in front of Harry was his target.
            He looked it over, carefully. He might have come this far on impulse, but he would make sure, now, that this apothecary had no traps that might hurt him. And in the meantime, he would learn how he could most effectively secure vengeance on the idiot.
            The shop was small, with smudged windows, like a lot of them in Knockturn Alley. The nearest window had been broken, in fact, and not repaired; Harry didn’t know if that was meant to send a threatening message or not. The name hung in crooked silver letters above the door.
            Harry closed his eyes and cast a complicated spell that he had first learned in Auror training. When he looked again, a tiny bird sat in the middle of his palm, a sparrow that fluttered and chirped at him. Harry nodded. It took off from his hand and flew around the back of the shop.
            In a few minutes, it was back, and flew straight into the middle of his forehead, becoming transparent as it did so. Harry closed his eyes, receiving its impressions, recorded much like a Pensieve memory. There was a back door to the shop, but it led out onto another turning of Knockturn Alley deep in rubbish and dirt. Killian wouldn’t go fast down that lane, and it didn’t look like he used the door often, from the thick dust piled in front of it.
            Harry nodded. He would be prepared in case Killian tried to escape that way, but it didn’t seem like a big risk.
            He dropped the Disillusionment Charm, and strode across the street and through the door of the shop, not bothering to knock.
*
            Draco stepped out of the Floo and hustled to the door of the abandoned shop, not bothering to brush the soot off his cloak, although he had never not done it before. This time, he had something more important to worry about.
            Then he jerked to a stop and lifted his head. There was drumming power around him, power he had felt so many times before that he wouldn’t have noticed it at all in Hogwarts. But this wasn’t Hogwarts, and that power didn’t have a reason to be here.
            Well, it shouldn’t have a reason to be here.
            “Shit,” Draco pointed out to no one in particular, and flung open the shop’s door, and ran.
*
            Harry stood for a second as the door of the shop banged to behind him, and looked around. It was only a quick glimpse, but it was enough to tell him there were no wards or trap spells in the immediate vicinity—or none that were strong enough to harm him, anyway. Which meant none he needed to worry about.
            Then he had to duck sharply as a Fireball Curse went soaring above him and crashed against the door. From the hiss of dampening spells, fires happened here a lot, and Harry wouldn’t need to worry about one starting behind his back. He lifted his head, smiled in the direction of the counter the spell had come from, and strode forwards.
            “Casting a curse at me?” he sang out. “That’s not very friendly, is it?”
            Another curse followed, although this one was a Freezing one instead of a Fireball one. Harry lifted his power in front of him and caught it easily, then dissolved it, instead of simply deflecting it the way a Shield Charm would have. That cost him a bit of power, and more than he would have had to use on the grounds of Hogwarts, but it looked fucking impressive—the little dots of ice collecting in midair, wavering, and then flashing into nonexistence.
            A man with manky red hair and a long, rat-like nose stuck his head up from behind the counter and gaped at Harry.
            “Garrick Killian?” Harry asked, and twitched his fingers. A small light began to shine from his magic, stronger than Lumos but floating in a ring around his head, so that it illuminated his face.
            “Who the bloody hell are you?” Killian clutched his wand as though he still thought it could protect him.
            Harry assumed the light wasn’t strong enough, and obligingly strengthened it, then lifted a hand to his fringe, pulling it back to expose the lightning scar. “Your worst nightmare,” he added helpfully, when Killian was still tense and staring and apparently unable to recognize him a moment later.
            Killian blurted something so scared it wasn’t even words, and darted backwards into the wall behind the counter. Then he grabbed a wire that hung down from the ceiling.
            Harry didn’t wait to find out what he intended to do with it. He went over the counter in an easy bound, and a second later he had Killian’s throat in his hand and was holding him up above the floor with his legs dangling.
            He could have done this with magic, admittedly, or in some way that didn’t involve physically holding Killian. But he had magic strengthening his arms so he could do it in the first place, and he thought that counted.
            Besides, from the expression that was creeping over Killian’s face, he was more than intimidating the man anyway.
            “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Killian whimpered, and struggled against him hard enough that Harry had to release his hold a bit, or Killian would damage his own throat. “I swear, all I did was sell ingredients to people who were part of your Court! If you didn’t want them to have them, take it up with them and not me!”
            “So butchering a centaur foal doesn’t count as a crime to you?” Harry supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had thought Killian would immediately guess why Harry was in his shop.
            Killian stared at him. “It’s ingredients, like anything else,” he said. “Some of my customers wanted ingredients. I provided them. No one gets upset when I hunt Runespoors and Ashwinders!”
            “If they lived in the Forbidden Forest, then I would,” said Harry, and tightened his grip again. “The Forbidden Forest is under my protection. You went there and butchered a centaur foal?” He had thought it would be a little harder to prove that Killian was the one who’d killed the foal. At least his blabbing mouth had a use.
            “It’s not like they’re human,” said Killian, shaking his head back and forth as much as he could with Harry’s hand still on his throat. “It’s not like I killed a baby!”
            Harry lowered Killian to the floor again. The man smiled, as if he suspected that Harry agreed with him, and swept a hand at his shelves. “As proof that I don’t have any hard feelings against you, why don’t you take anything you want? Free. I know you’re not much of a Potions brewer, but you must have people in your Court who can do it for you.”
            “You should have known better than that,” Harry whispered, and felt the flames of his magic begin to burn more visibly around him. “So what I’m wondering is, should I break all the bones in your body or simply turn you inside out and leave you for other people to find?”
            “You shouldn’t do either, because he’s not worth it.”
            That was Draco’s voice, from the door. Harry kept himself from turning in that direction and reaching out immediately; they were in front of an audience, someone who wouldn’t have any reason to think that Draco Malfoy and Dark Lord Potter were anything but enemies, maybe reluctant allies.
            Although, come to think of it, Harry wasn’t sure that he was going to leave Killian alive long enough to spread rumors anyway.
            “Candidate Malfoy,” said Harry, turning around slowly, and keeping an effortless grip on Killian with his magic. “Have you come to defend this worthless killer? He violated my boundaries and the treaties I’ve made with the centaurs. I don’t see much reason to leave him alive.”
            Draco took a step towards him. Harry could see the answer in his wide eyes as clearly as if he’d spoken it: I’ve come to defend you.
            Harry appreciated the silent support, but again, he could hardly show that in front of Killian. He turned and gestured. A small ball of fire formed off to the side, bright white and glowing. As Harry moved his fingers, it spread into the outline of a man, hollow in the middle, and sized to fit Killian. Then it started moving forwards.
            “You were saying?” Harry asked Draco.
            “I hadn’t said much of anything yet,” said Draco. If he was worried about the fire and what it might do to Killian, he didn’t show it. Killian had started whimpering, and Harry had to admit that was a deeply satisfying sound. “I do think you’re being too hasty. Do you even know if this man did…whatever he did alone? You could get more information from him if you don’t kill him.”
            Very good, Draco. It was the sort of political lie that Draco was good at spinning on the spot, and which Harry would have floundered hopelessly through. He inclined his head as though Draco had a point.
            “I could torture him for information, perhaps,” said Harry, as if he was considering deeply and Draco had the chance to persuade him otherwise. “And then kill him when I’m done.”
            “I thought you were a fair and just Lord.” Draco sidled towards him. “I thought you only killed people for crimes they actually committed.”
            Trying to make yourself into a witness? But Harry knew that not enough people would believe Draco for it to be worth the effort.
            That led to the inevitable conclusion that he really was trying to save Killian’s life. Perhaps he thought that people would accept Killian’s testimony most of all.
            But Harry didn’t intend to leave Killian in a position where he could just go and speak to newspapers like everyone else, even if he spared his life. “He admitted to butchering a centaur foal. His life belongs to me.”
            “Really?” Draco was beside him now, and although Harry knew he must have been at least a little nervous, he couldn’t see any sign of that in the way Draco raised his eyebrows, polite disbelief almost radiating off him. “Because I would have thought that his life belongs to the centaurs, not you. With all due respect. My Lord.”
            Harry stared at Draco, and then nodded slowly. He should have thought of that direction earlier, and Draco was incredibly smart to have thought of it.
            But of course. He’s a politician. Harry turned back to Killian, who looked white enough that he probably would have fainted if Harry moved the fiery outline a few inches closer, and smiled. “What do you prefer, Killian? You could choose your own fate, you know. Do I have you?” He raised his hand, and the outline surged a bit nearer. Killian squealed. “Or do the centaurs have you?”
            “I want to live,” Killian whispered. “I’m sorry I killed the foal, I’m sorry! But I can’t go back and undo it. What do you want me to do?”
            Harry narrowed his eyes. “Is this the way that you handle all the conflicts you might have?” he asked. “What if you sell illegal ingredients? Would you just tell the Aurors that you were sorry and you didn’t mean to when they came into your shop and insisted on arresting you for selling them? Or would you acknowledge that they have a right to be upset?”
            Killian stared at him as if he didn’t know what Harry was talking about. Harry shrugged angrily. Probably, he didn’t. He either didn’t think of centaurs as human or Harry as human, or both. He expected to take some risks breaking laws, but the laws that protected centaurs were breakable.
            Or something. Harry had to admit that he wasn’t going to spend much time trying to fathom the mind of someone who killed centaur foals, and justified it by saying that it wasn’t like he was killing human babies.
            “Time’s almost up,” he said. “You can still choose, but take more than one minute and I’ll choose for you. What is it going to be?”
            Killian stared back and forth between the outline of himself and then the shelf where Harry could see what looked like the outline of a folded centaur hide, and swallowed. “How can you make me pick like that?” he whispered. “You’re merciless.” He really sounded like he was a few breaths away from crying.
            “Time is up now,” Harry said. “And since you haven’t chosen, and I don’t want to be bothered with you, I’m going to give you to the centaurs.”
            Killian uttered another wordless cry, and began to weep. Harry stepped back and dismissed the outline of fire, floating Killian towards the door of the shop. Draco got out of the way, without taking his eyes from Harry. He seemed to believe that he could tell Harry the right thing to do silently, by staring at him.
            “I’m going to make sure that everyone knows what happened here,” Harry said, both to Killian and to Draco. They could think about what messages they’d carry—well, Draco could. Killian wouldn’t be carrying anything anywhere. “And I’m going to give the centaur foal a memorial. You may not have thought he was worth anything, but I do.”
            He gestured Draco out the door, and made Killian follow him. Then he stood in the middle of the shop and looked around at all the wooden cabinets, the barrels, the shelves, the flasks, the potions that simmered in fake display cauldrons, and raised his hands.
            Not everything was made of wood, but even the things that weren’t would burn well enough in the heat of the fire Harry intended to call.
            This time, the flames had no shape, but simply poured from his hands and arched up to touch the walls, the floors, the shelves, the cabinets, everything, and everything simmered for a moment only before it burst into fire.
            Harry stepped outside and conjured water, making sure that he soaked Knockturn Alley, the roofs and doors and everything else of the shops on either side and across the street from Darkest Signs, and the people who had come out to see what was happening. Some of them shrieked from that. Others shrieked at the sight of him. Harry honestly wasn’t sure what was which, and he only looked at them. Some people immediately ducked back into their shops or houses; even this close, it was hard to tell the difference between the two.
            Others drew their wands and assisted him in soaking everything down so that nothing else would catch on fire. A few tried to put out the flames. Harry shook his head. “You won’t be able to,” he said.
            One of the hags who had been walking down the middle of the alley when Harry first appeared turned and looked at him. Then she bowed and said, “You heard the Dark Lord. Let’s make sure nothing else burns.”
            Other people appeared more willing to listen to her than to him. Harry could hardly blame them for that. At least it meant that they weren’t scrambling around anymore and would listen to someone.
            He turned to Killian, who still hung in the air, and nodded to Draco. “I’m about to Apparate to the Forbidden Forest,” he said. “Ministerial Candidate Malfoy, will you spread the word of what happens to apothecaries, or anyone else, who harms my allies?”
            “I will,” said Draco, looking him dead in the eye. “If you really think that this is the best thing you can do. My Lord.”
            “I think that the centaurs will make the decision,” said Harry. “They’ve returned some people alive before now.” He smiled, thinking of Umbridge. “And they may remand him to my justice. I’ve made the decision, since he wouldn’t.” He turned on his heel and Apparated to Hogwarts, pulling the still-whimpering Killian with him.
*
            Draco, left with the flames on one hand and the people casting water spells on the other, had a few moments to decide what he ought to do, before those people started coming up to him and demanding answers.
            And he decided that he was going to do the best he could to defend Harry without lessening the fury of his vengeance. He knew the fury was part of the reason Harry had done this. Fewer people would hurt the centaurs if they thought there was a chance that they really might suffer for doing so.
            “Candidate Malfoy?” The nearest hag had come up to him. “Does the Dark Lord mean it, that he’ll hurt people who hurt the centaurs?”
            Draco nodded and faced her. “He does,” he said, and that gave him the direction of his own speech, the thin line that he needed to dance.
            He and Harry might be secret allies, but it was still up to Draco to support him and not undermine his decisions. And Draco could find little impulse in him to care about what happened to Killian. It was what the public might say about Harry because of that that he dreaded.
            On the other hand, we’ve already decided to live with that.
*
BAFan: Well, Draco helped him know.
SP777: Harry was always going to do something worse than that. He means it when he says that no one is allowed to fuck with his allies now.
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Burning Day