Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Splendor Is Waiting	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4729 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the end of The Splendor Is Waiting. Thanks for reading along!
Chapter Five—The Celebrants
            “Harry.”
            It was just a simple word that Hermione spoke, but it made Harry feel as if he had jumped off a trampoline and would never hit the ground. He grabbed her around the waist and hugged her as hard as she was trying to hug him, which meant a lot of tangled-up arms and bruised ribs. Hermione finally broke away, laughing a little and mopping with a handkerchief at her eyes.
            “You look great,” Harry said honestly, studying her. And she did. She was crying at the moment, of course, but she had a more settled, thoughtful look than Harry had seen on her for months before she left, and her skin was a little tanned, and her hair looked as though it was several shades of brown now, rather than just one.
            “Oi!” said Ron loudly to his right. “Eyes off my fiancée!”
            “I’ll just have to get my own,” Harry said, backing away with a smile. He didn’t miss the way his two friends perked up, but he turned and looked past them, towards the Slytherin table. Draco was staring hard at him.
            He didn’t object to me hugging Hermione, Harry thought. Their intense desire to touch had died down a bit after they had completed the rite at the dark of the moon that demanded such an overwhelming connection. But Draco would still want to know if Harry was going to get a girlfriend or fiancée or something like that, Harry was certain.
            Harry gave Draco a grave smile and started to sit down again. But Hermione had turned and followed the direction of his eyes. Of course she would have, he decided a minute later. Returned from Australia and full of new wisdom and thoughtfulness and balance or not, she was still Hermione.
            “Why are you looking at Malfoy?” she asked, and turned to Ron as if he would have the answers.
            Ron raised his hands. “I wrote to you about that! Those rituals that Harry wanted to practice, holding back Shadow and that sort of thing. Well, he’s been doing them with Malfoy.”
            Hermione’s head practically swiveled around, so fast that she almost broke her neck, and she stared at Harry. “You said you had to do them with Light wizards,” she said. “That was why that book wouldn’t work for you, because it was full of the rites the Dark wizards used instead. What are you doing performing them with Malfoy, Harry?”
            Harry grinned at her. “I’m doing them with Draco, actually. I don’t call him Malfoy anymore.”
            Hermione blinked and opened her mouth, but no words came out. Harry laughed at her, and moved around the table. Draco was striding over towards them, and he doubted that he would stand being left out of the conversation for long.
            “There are rites that Dark and Light wizards can perform together,” Draco said smoothly as he came to a halt behind Harry and casually wrapped an arm around his waist. “Because they are both equally opposed to Shadow. I got Harry a book on them, and we’ve performed three of them together.” He smiled down at Harry.
            Harry smiled back, temperately. He knew Draco was reeling as much as he was in the aftermath of that last rite. They had studied together, and met and talked together, in the last few days about things that weren’t the rites. They had to find a way to balance outside the ritual circle, Harry thought, or they would only come together, only matter to each other, when they were inside it.
            He was at least interested in seeing if they could do more than that.
            “What made you want to tutor him at all?” Hermione had found her voice, probably rescuing it from somewhere at the bottom of her throat.
            “Because I would always want to rescue another wizard from the gripping tendrils of Shadow,” said Draco. He had let go with the arm around Harry’s waist—somewhat to Harry’s disappointment—and was considering Hermione with an opaque glance. “I wondered if you were in thrall to it before you left. But if you were, you’ve cast it off.”
            “I never was,” said Hermione, and she at least looked intrigued, glancing back and forth between him and Draco as if she didn’t know what had happened, but didn’t object to it. “I didn’t think that Shadow even existed.”
            “Not many people believe it does, anymore,” said Draco evenly. “That’s another reason I wanted to help Harry. He could have gone to Mind-Healers or something else, but he was seeking an old way. A wizarding way. I wanted to show it to him. The more people who walk along that path and keep it open, the more future wizards will seek it, too.”
            Harry blinked. Draco hadn’t explained it to him like this, but then he supposed he hadn’t asked. And it made sense. Draco had always been devoted to his pure-blood heritage, and his face was shining now with the force of his reverence, his belief. Harry had simply never seen him promote it like this.
            Well, you wouldn’t, would you?
            Harry nodded to himself. From here on out, he would ask. He doubted that the rites against Shadow were the only ones that existed.
            “Could someone else do the same thing?” Hermione was looking extremely thoughtful, brain already running down a new path. “Or is it something that Light wizards and Muggleborns couldn’t do?”
            Uh-oh. There was the defiant tone in Hermione’s voice, the same one that Harry had always heard when she talked about house-elves, the one that said she had suddenly remembered who she was talking to. She had her hands clenched down at her sides as if she was going to try to strangle Draco, and her eyes glinted harshly at him.
            “Light wizards can do the other series of common rites,” said Draco. “There are books on that, too.”
            “But why not the series of rituals that you and Harry did?” Hermione demanded, stepping forwards. Harry looked at her in vague alarm, not sure what was about to happen. “What about that series? Why can’t I do them?”
            “Because they require both a Dark wizard and a Light wizard,” said Draco. He was looking at Hermione with a sort of patience that Harry found unfathomable, unless it was that Draco had a lot of patience for someone who was interested in his culture, the way he’d had it for Harry once he found out Harry was interested in something pure-bloods used to do. “And I don’t think that you’re about to become a Dark witch at this stage in the game.”
            Hermione narrowed her eyes a little as if studying something down a blurry telescope. Then she abruptly nodded. “You’re doing all right so far, Malfoy.”
            “Of course I am.” Draco turned and cocked his head whimsically at Harry. “I have someone I want to get along with, and I know his friends are important to him.”
            Harry smiled back. He hadn’t really explained to anyone what had happened between him and Draco so far, and that was only partially because he didn’t have the words to frame such an intense experience. Neville already knew, from the way he sometimes looked at Harry, and Ron had been too preoccupied with Hermione’s imminent return to care.
            “That’s the only reason you want to get along with him, then?” Hermione was bristling again. “Because we’re important to him? Not for our own sakes?’
            Draco rolled his eyes for the first time, but it didn’t look as condescending and dismissive as Harry had assumed it would become once he did it. “Think about it, Granger. I don’t know you. I only know what my own preconceptions told me. And you’re not exactly acting friendly right now, either. It would be a presumption to say that I should want to get along with you, when I have no idea who you really are.” He looked directly at her, and then at Ron, who was standing off to the side and watching everything as closely as Hermione. “I’m not going to be presumptuous.”
            A second later, Hermione closed her mouth with a little click and stared at him. Then she turned to Harry. “How long has he been like this?”
            Draco cleared his throat. “Standing right here.”
            “Since the beginning of the rites, you’ve been like this,” said Harry, and raised his eyebrows at Draco before turning back to Hermione. “To me, at least. I think that maybe he could be even nicer, but there’s something still wanting between you.”
            “Yes,” said Draco unexpectedly. “Besides lack of knowledge.” He straightened as though someone was about to cast a Wind Charm at him and try to blow him over. “Granger, Weasley, I’m sorry.”
            “For what?” Hermione’s voice could have scoured paint.
            “For calling you the insults that I did,” Draco said. He glanced at Ron. “For making fun of your family for being poor. For—following the Dark Lord without considering what he was clearly about.” He grimaced. “For what happened to your brother, Weasley. I’m ashamed of that. I should never have let the Death Eaters into the school.”
            “And have you paid for that?” Ron jumped in.
            “The Malfoy vaults had one Galleon left in them when the Ministry was done,” Draco said. Harry could feel Draco’s tension under his hand.
            “I didn’t mean literal payment,” Ron snapped, and his hands firmed into fists. “Have you—”
            “It’ll be a long process,” Draco interrupted. His eyes were narrow, but he was keeping the way he might have snapped restrained. Harry knew what the effort was costing him because of the way that Draco’s arm had tensed against his. “But I can describe some of the things that I’ll do, and have done, if you meet me in a more private place.”
            Ron and Hermione both blinked, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that they were standing in the middle of the Great Hall. Then Hermione nodded slowly. “Fine. The Defense classroom, this afternoon, after the last class is over?”
            Draco slowly nodded back. Hermione cast a Tempus Charm, squeaked, and ran to gather up her books, saying something incoherently about “kindness about letting me join in the middle of the year, and I’m going to waste it!” Ron lingered to cast one more glance at Draco before he ran after her.
            “There should be a celebration coming up soon that multiple Light and Dark wizards can join in together.”

At first, Harry thought Draco was speaking, and was wondering whether he would be willing to share such a celebration with Hermione and Ron. Then he saw that Draco was silent, staring at Neville, who had spoken. Neville leaned an elbow on the table and winked at Harry.
            “Probably not in that book,” he continued, as if nothing was wrong. “But I think if you look in other books, you might find one. And I’d like to be considered. Probably Ron and Hermione would, too.” He picked up his satchel and walked off towards the greenhouses.
            Draco exhaled slowly. Harry could feel him shaking. He punched him gently in the side and murmured, “You’re okay? I mean, I didn’t know—I didn’t know you were going to do that.”
            “The rites brought us together,” Draco murmured, and looked down at him. “But I know well enough that if I’m going to keep you, I have to do more than just fuck you in the ritual circle, however well I do that.”
            Harry blinked. He had known that he and Draco were making a start on getting to know each other, what with the time they’d spent together and doing some homework in common, but he (carefully) hadn’t thought about how long it would last. He hadn’t thought Draco would be willing to get to know his friends.
            “…Oh,” he said softly.
            “Yes. Oh.” Draco ruffled his hair a little—he probably didn’t want to kiss him in public when so many people were already staring at them, Harry thought—and then whispered, “I have to get to Potions, too,” before he walked away towards the Slytherin table.
            Harry stood gazing after him, and ignored the people who tried to ask him what that was about. They would know soon enough, and he wanted to enjoy his own private happiness a moment longer.
            Which resulted in him having to scurry to Potions, but who cared?
*
            “I reckon it’s a start.”
            Harry leaned against the table in the empty classroom and sighed a little. Draco had explained to Ron and Hermione exactly what the Ministry had imposed on him and his family, beyond his father’s prison sentence: the fines exacted, the property taken away, the restrictions on spells they could cast. Harry thought they probably would have taken Malfoy Manor, too, if not for the nasty things would have happened to people not of Malfoy descent who lived in the place. As it was, Aurors came and checked constantly on the hidden rooms in the Manor to make sure that Draco and his mother weren’t storing illegal things there.
            “So glad you approve, Weasley,” Draco muttered.
            Ron bristled. “I’m not the one who scarred someone’s brother and tormented other innocent people all the way through school!” he said loudly.
            Harry would have opened his mouth and moved forwards to defend Draco, but Draco caught his eye, and he held still. Thinking about it later, he could see why Draco hadn’t wanted him to intervene. To stay with Harry long-term, Draco would have to stand up for himself and be accepted by Harry’s friends, or not. Either way, Harry yelling at Ron would just make everything more uncomfortable.
            “Right,” said Draco. “But sooner or later, there’s nothing else I can give. I can apologize. I’ll say I’m sorry again, if you like it.” His voice was even. “I can admit that the penalties the Ministry imposed on my family were fair, when we were actual supporters of You-Know-Who. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life groveling or apologizing, or acting upset that I can’t give more. I’m not going to—I don’t know, go to Azkaban or die like a villain in one of the old stories. I don’t think I deserve that.”
            “What if I do?” Ron challenged. “And Bill might think differently.”
            Draco shrugged. “Then you do, and we can’t be around each other.” He turned to look at Harry, and Harry thought he was the only one who could see the thrumming tension in Draco, like a Muggle wire blowing in a high wind. “But I hope you’ll reconsider, if only for Harry’s sake.”
            Ron turned purple, but didn’t say anything. Harry knew the signs of him struggling against his anger. He was glad to see it.
            “You’re not doing this for us,” said Hermione again, the way she’d said it that morning. “You’re doing it for Harry.”
            “Yes.”
            “Then why do you expect us to accept it?”
            “It’s up to you whether or not you do,” said Draco, and held out a hand. Harry stepped up beside him, and nodded a little. Yes, this had been the best way to handle it, and he was glad that Draco had made him keep silent. Either Ron and Hermione would accept it, or they wouldn’t. Harry couldn’t pressure his friends or Draco one way or the other. “For now, I don’t think there’s anything else I can say. If you’ll excuse us…”
            They were halfway to the door when Hermione cleared her throat. “Are there rituals that can be performed by more than one Light wizard with more than one Dark wizard?” she asked. “Neville was telling me about them.”
            A sharp quiver ran through Draco’s hand, and Harry was sure he was dying to say something like, “Then why don’t you ask him?” But Draco only turned around instead, looking mildly interested. “Yes, there are. Not in the book that I showed Harry, though. “
            “When is the next time we could do one of them?” Hermione looked at Ron, who only nodded to her, and then back at Draco. “And can people who are engaged participate in them?”
            “Yes,” Draco said, blinking a little. Harry smiled. He thought Draco had anticipated Hermione’s interest, but not Ron’s. Perhaps he hadn’t thought Ron would dare participate without Hermione’s permission, either. “The next time is…probably the next full moon.”
“A sort of generic full moon ritual?” Harry asked in a mutter, and Draco nodded next to him.
“Good,” said Hermione. “I’m going to read up on it, and then we’ll join you. So will Neville.”
“I don’t want to be the only Dark wizard there,” Draco said immediately. “I’ll be inviting my mother.”
Hermione blinked, apparently really not having anticipated that, but she nodded. “As long as she has permission to come onto the school grounds.”
“She would have to, to visit me in case something happened at home,” Draco said, and waited. But Hermione and Ron didn’t appear to have any other questions, and he left, with Harry smiling at his friends over his shoulder as he followed.
The minute they were in the corridor, Draco swore a little and let go of Harry’s hands to rake his fingers through his hair. “I know they’re your friends, but Merlin, they’re bloody inquisitive,” he muttered.
Harry had to chuckle. “Thank you for being willing to include them,” he said. “And apologize.” He hesitated, then stepped up so he could catch Draco’s eye. “I was a little worried that it might be only the rites that were connecting us together, and the connection would end the minute we weren’t doing the rites anymore,” he murmured. “But it’s not that, is it? It’s…us.”
            “Believe me, I would never have gone through that if I didn’t have more than the rites connecting us,” Draco said, and caught his eyes.
Harry leaned up and gently kissed him, and for taking place outside the ritual circle, it was still a pretty good kiss.
*
“We bring to the celebration of the full moon a bowl of water, for the moon to see itself in.”
Hermione’s voice was loud and rich and exultant, remarkable for someone who hadn’t ever performed one of these rites before, Harry thought, and hid a smile. He watched as she placed the bowl—large and silver, more a basin, like a Pensieve—down in the center of the circle that Draco had formed of stones. It steamed for a second, cold curls of mist rising from the surface of the water for no apparent reason. Hermione blinked and took a step back, before a smile formed on her face and she gave a little bow of her head to the basin. Then she turned to Ron, who was holding a piece of blue-green stone that he’d gone to find in Diagon Alley, much like Harry had gone to find the topaz for the original ritual.
“We greet the moon with a shining piece of the earth, which brings another reflection to it.” Unlike Hermione, who had spoken the memorized words as if she hadn’t memorized them at all, Ron’s intoning was careful and precise. He put the blue-green rock down next to the basin, and Harry, arching his neck, caught a glimpse of a dim and blurry lunar reflection in it.
“On behalf of the Light,” said Neville next, moving forwards from his place next to Harry, “we greet the moon with fire, which reminds it of its own light’s origin in the distant sun.”
He had a small twig already lit and crackling with the flame. He placed it carefully on the surface of the water, and it floated there, the flames unquenched, rippling and playing with their reflection in turn. Ron’s face was full of awe, and Hermione’s likewise, as they watched the fire float there.
It was Harry’s turn. He breathed into his hands and moved in with them fiercely cupped, trying to make sure that as little of the air escaped as possible.
“We greet the moon, we Light wizards,” he murmured, “with the gift of breath that plays in our lungs and makes us able to walk under the moon and see its wonders.” He opened his hands immediately atop the stone, which made it sparkle and gleam. Their circle of ritual stones was beside the lake again, and Harry thought he saw the part of the water that reflected the moon there ripple a moment as if in answer.
Harry glanced across the circle at Draco and Narcissa, who was clad in a white garment that Harry sometimes thought was a gown and sometimes a robe. It had silver sparkling around the hem and the neck, and Narcissa took a long, slow, graceful step forwards, her gaze fixed on the moon and yet somehow beyond it.
“On behalf of the Dark,” she murmured, “we greet the moon, honor its light, and yet insist on the shadows that ever lie beneath it.” She placed a piece of black stone lengthwise across their side of the circle.
“And on behalf of the Dark,” Draco said, moving in with a flourish that Harry thought was directed at him and part of the ritual at the same time, “we ask the side of the moon that is ever hidden and ever present to shine down on us all.” Beside the black stone, he placed a churning handful of what looked like black air, what probably was black air. Harry didn’t know exactly how he had got it, and didn’t know if he wanted to ask.
For long moments, the moon’s light played over their offerings, and Harry wondered if they would be accepted, after all. The ritual’s magic depended on part on the beliefs and strength of the wizards involved, and he didn’t think their magic had blended particularly well, not like the way his and Draco’s had blended in the first ritual they had done together.
Or the second. Or the last.
Harry shivered a little, seeing the secret way Draco’s eyes rested on him. He couldn’t wait until they did it outside the rites, too, to see what it was like.
            Then the moonlight brightened until it was painful looking through it, like looking through a haze or halo of sunlight. Harry blinked, and blinked again, and the brightness built until it flashed out. When he could see again, Hermione’s basin was empty, the twig with the fire had gone out, and the blue stone he and Ron had offered together were entirely gone.
As were the Dark materials from the other side.
Draco was the one who smiled first, the smile breaking over his face like foam, and he held his hands out. “Feel it?” he whispered.
Harry did, the charged air in the center of the circle. It surged and bathed them, and Neville held his hands out immediately after Harry’s, but Ron and Hermione weren’t that far behind. And then Narcissa’s joined them, and a small, shimmering, six-pointed star of light formed in the middle of the ritual circle. There was a bigger, darker star outlining it, Harry realized, which he could see if he squinted.
“It’s shining for us,” Draco murmured, apparently talking to no one at all. “Because we worked together, and made us.”
And Harry knew he was talking about all of them, and that they had all made it together, but he was looking at Harry as if he meant the two of them alone. Harry could feel his face heat up as he smiled back.
If there were any more curling tendrils of Shadow in his mind, they burned away in that moment, as much defeated by the darkness of his desire as by the light of Draco’s smile.
The End.
*
BAFan: Thank you!
ChaosLady: Thanks. That’s the effect I was going for.
starr: Thanks!
SP777: Thanks. So did I.
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Splendor Is Waiting