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Ragnarok	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11309 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Ragnarok
- 2-Strike
- 3-Assault
- 4-Counterstrike
- 5-Backblow
- 6-Clash
- 7-Collision
- 8-Blast
- 9-Jab
- 10-Rush
- 11-Unite
- 12-And Conquer
- 5
- 6
- 7
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Six�Clash

�� Mr.
Malfoy. What are you doing here?�

�� Draco
smiled and dipped his head to Gilfleur as though it was a coincidence that he
had run into her at Atlas�s, the most exclusive restaurant in wizarding London.
�Madam,� he said. �Don�t mind me. I realized that I hadn�t had the eels here in
years. It was a treat that I couldn�t
readily afford for some time, of course, and I�m afraid that dreams might have
made it more delicious in my head than it could ever be in reality. But I had
to try.�

�� Gilfleur
half-relaxed, though Draco could see the careful way she kept her hands at her
sides, as if she would have to snatch her wand out of her pocket. �The eels are
still very good,� she said. �But I didn�t expect to see you here so soon after
you joined the Wizengamot.�

�� Draco
raised a curious eyebrow. �Why not?�

�� He watched
Gilfleur struggle with that for a moment. He was sure it had to do with money
and that carefully cultivated image of half-genteel poverty he�d come up with,
but of course Gilfleur could hardly say that. She had expected him to turn his
head to the side, politely allowing the hint without commenting on it.

�� I don�t
know,� Gilfleur said, and she seemed to have decided to play the innocent
rather than apologize. Her eyes widened and her teeth all but flashed at him. �At
any rate, I hope that you enjoy your meal.� She bowed to him and started to
turn away.

�� Draco moved
his lips as if repeating her words to himself. If she glanced over her shoulder
at him, that was all she should see.

�� In reality,
he was repeating a spell he had studied over the past few days and practiced
until he could do it without his wand. He stood in place, watching her go as if
admiring the swish of her blue-green robe, and awaited the result.

�� The spell
briefly made Gilfleur�s shoulders glow as if the light had caught on a
particularly bright thread in her robes. One reason Draco had chosen to use
this one instead of another was the subtlety of it. That spark, and the spell rebounded
back to Draco, carrying the information that he needed.

�� Yes.

�� Draco
smiled, tilted his head, and allowed himself to close his eyes for a second in
enjoyment of the sweet victory. Then the waiter came to lead him to his table,
and Draco followed willingly, wishing only that he had someone he trusted
enough to dine with right now and explain to. He could explain to Potter, but
having him appear in public, in an area that contained a Wizengamot member,
would have taken more planning than Draco wanted to expend for such a small and
self-indulgent pleasure.

�� The spell
had seen beneath Gilfleur�s defenses, and revealed her little secret to him. It
was no wonder that she had become nervous around him after seeing him touch
Kellerston.

�� Gilfleur
had been through her own rituals to raise her power.

*

�� Harry
didn�t think he�d slept in a day, though of course it was difficult to judge
the passage of time here unless he kept to the strict, day-imitating schedule
that the Wizengamot had dreamed up for him. He would sit down or stretch out to
sleep, and then he would have to leap to his feet as another possible, cloudy
vision of the future exploded across his senses.

�� Could he do
this? Was it possible?

�� And each
time it seemed as though he could answer yes
to more and more of the visions.

�� His magic
surged and circled in him, and Harry sometimes spoke to it, asking it wordless
questions, ordering it to destroy a tiny patch of carpet or one of the pebbles
stuck between the larger stones of the fireplace to make them balance. Each
time, it obeyed. And each time, Harry could feel the pull in his groin, the
ecstasy that made him groan and pant and stagger.

�� It had been
ten years since someone else had touched him. Harry had never made any attempt
to remedy that, either, the same way he had made no serious attempt to see his
friends. Why should he, when the magic would kill him soon? And when he was so
guilty, and would probably destroy anyone he slept with when his magic became
excited or when he discovered them cheating on him?

�� Now,
though, Malfoy had given him another way to look at it. Harry hadn�t done
anything to solve those problems because his primary desire was to survive, and
he�d become obsessed with that instead, in circumstances that didn�t seem to
promise much. He had always been less
of a good person than he thought himself.

�� He wanted
to see Malfoy again.

�� Harry
thought of summoning a house-elf, but it was unusual for him, and the last
thing he wanted to do right now was ring an alarm in the mind of any Wizengamot
member. He would have to wait until his next meal�whenever that was�and demand
another message delivered. Or perhaps he would simply tell Malfoy that he was
leaving, risky as that was, and direct Malfoy to meet him in Grimmauld Place.

�� A new
shiver ran down his spine, and Harry opened his mouth to taste the air, feeling
puzzled for a moment. This pleasure was like and unlike the pleasure he had started
to feel when he used his magic slowly.

�� Then he
traced it to its source, or thought he did, when he remembered how he had felt
while the house-elf stared up at him, when he pictured Malfoy�s likely
expression if Harry tried to give him an order.

�� He liked
the thought of commanding people.

�� Or part of me does, Harry thought when
that single moment of shock had pulsed through him like a sunburst.

�� I wonder what Malfoy would say to that?

�� He probably
wouldn�t be pleased. He was the one who had begun this association, after all,
and he probably thought of himself as still the one in charge. And he was a
member of the Wizengamot during the period in wizarding history when it was
actually powerful and dangerous. Someone like that wouldn�t be willing to
accept a lesser position.

�� Harry also
couldn�t simply say that his magic was more powerful and so he should lead.
Malfoy�s magic was weaker but more flexible than his; Harry could only threaten
to kill him, while Malfoy could hurt him to the point of death without killing
him if he wanted. And Harry knew almost nothing about the political
configurations of the outside world except what he had managed to pick up by
accident when on his hunting missions and from Ron and Hermione�s letters. He
needed someone who could watch out for him.

�� Harry
nodded slowly. He wouldn�t order Malfoy around, then. He would simply make it
clear that he was not a helpless tool
or a passive one to be fitted to Malfoy�s hand. He had acted like that, but
only when he thought there was no hope otherwise. The moment he had some, he
was going to grasp his life and change it.

�� Malfoy and
he would be allies, not master and puppet, and not Wizengamot member and
executioner, the way Harry had acted with Malfoy�s peers. It would be that way,
or Harry would know why not.

*

�� Draco was
still chuckling when he reached home. It was most ironic that Gilfleur had
hidden her powers so well that Draco couldn�t find them without a special
check, and then had betrayed herself the moment she realized�from seeing Draco
reach out and touch Kellerston�s heart; it had to be that, since it was the
only display of his extra magic that Draco had made in front of her�that
someone else had them, too. Draco would have been interested and tried to find
some way to make an alliance, to trade knowledge. Gilfleur could only go to
someone she knew had the power to kill inconvenient enemies and demand a death.

�� Without
actually daring to unleash Potter yet. Draco paused thoughtfully inside his
front door and allowed his house-elves to remove his cloak while he thought.
That was unusual. What could Gilfleur be waiting for? If she was afraid that
Draco would learn her secret, or betray it, or compete with her, then she could
have killed him before he was warned. After all, she had no idea that he and
Potter were allies, and she would have had no reason to think that Potter would
refuse her, so ordering him to kill Draco held no risks.

�� Something to think about, Draco decided,
and then noticed one of his elves was bowing and scraping in front of him the
way they only did when they bore news that would potentially displease him. He
sighed. �What is it, Silpy?�

�� I�m here.�

�� Draco
straightened quickly. Potter was striding down the corridor towards him,
looking taller than Draco remembered. Although that could come from the aura of
power that moved with him, spreading around him like wings or a cloak.

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes and watched Potter speculatively. He wasn�t sure if coming
here and moving around like this in the middle of his unshielded magic was a
threat, but he didn�t think so. Potter had his face set, but not in an angry
way. It seemed as if he had shut his expression like a wall, refusing to allow
anything to break him now. One hand was curled at his side, and Draco thought
it could as easily reach out as strike. Once or twice, when he had come to a
halt in front of Draco, he twitched as though he resented Draco�s scrutiny, but
that didn�t have to mean anything.

�� Welcome to
Malfoy Manor,� Draco said. �May I inquire why you decided to visit me today?�

�� The
Wizengamot didn�t come,� Potter said. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes such a
brilliant green and his pupils so dilated that Draco wondered if he�d drunk
something to give him courage. But he could smell nothing on him, and, from the
way that Potter�s eyes darted around the room, Draco thought the explanation
was simpler: that he hadn�t been in someone else�s house on a visit in a
decade. Then Potter took a deep breath as if hearing his thoughts and snapped
his gaze back to Draco�s face, keeping it there. �They usually come�I mean, by this
time�by this time in the day, I know if they�re going to give me a commission.
I didn�t think anyone would miss me.�

�� You are
undoubtedly right,� Draco said. He wasn�t entirely sure about that, but then,
he also didn�t think that any members of the Wizengamot would confront Potter
directly if they started to suspect his loyalty. �Welcome.� He reached out and
hooked a hand under Potter�s arm. �Would you like to come and have something to
drink?�

�� Potter
shook his head, and a glitter of magic, white as light reflected from rippling
water, raced along the backs of his hands. �Not a good idea.�

�� Perhaps
not,� Draco said, as calmly as he could when he felt the magic thrumming
beneath Potter�s skin for only the second time. �But you�ll take something to eat,
at least. A first taste of the luxury�do pardon the pun�that will be yours when
you start coming into your birthright.�

�� Potter
jerked his head to the side like a startled horse, and Draco let him go. Potter
stood there in the middle of the corridor, hands twisting so hard that Draco
thought he would break a bone. Well, he had healing potions if that happened.

�� What is
this?� Potter asked abruptly. �What are we working towards? Are you going to�to
rule the world, and you need my help? Or is growing your power its own goal? Or
is it something else?�

�� Ah. Draco felt as though he could
finally put down a burden he had been carrying for years. He took Potter�s arm
again, and this time, Potter let him.

�� I�ve been
waiting to tell someone that for a very long time,� he said. �Appreciative
audiences are so hard to find. Won�t you come and sit down? And while you eat,
I�ll talk.�

*

�� Harry had
forgotten what fresh fruit tasted like.

�� No, wait,
that wasn�t true. He had got oranges and apples from the Wizengamot, and
sometimes berries in season, or what he assumed was in season, since he wasn�t
exactly living in the same world as anyone else.

�� But it had
never tasted the same. It had tasted musty, or it broke apart in his hand
before he could get it to his mouth, or the juice was just little drops instead
of the long streams that broke through when his teeth pierced the skin of this fruit. Harry suspected that he
wasn�t being rational or making a fair comparison; maybe this fruit tasted so
much better because it was eaten in freedom rather than as a slave.

�� But that
didn�t matter to him. He didn�t have to care. He devoured the strawberries,
raspberries, slices of orange, and slices of melon that Malfoy offered him, and
had to fight the temptation to lick his hands afterwards rather than wipe them
off, especially when the house-elves brought in bread so thickly drizzled with
butter and honey that Harry was hard put to find the taste of the scone
underneath them. The food was sweet, and plentiful, and fulfilling, and Harry
ate and ate, with no sense that he could only have what the house-elf provided
him and he was selfish to ask for anything else.

�� And he
listened.

�� Malfoy
leaned back in his chair on the other side of the small table, watching Harry
with a faint smile as he ate. Harry glared at him now and then, hoping to show
Malfoy that he couldn�t buy Harry with a good meal. But Malfoy�s smile never
had a trace of contempt, only of wistfulness, as if he wished that he could
enjoy the food as much himself.

�� Or as if he thinks that I should have had
this long since.

�� Harry
shrugged, a little uncomfortably, and snagged another scone from the mess of
butter and honey, leaning back to listen again. Malfoy had already told him, in
more detail, how he had struggled to master the rituals that would grant him
extra power, how he had risen and started working towards the Wizengamot once
he saw all the political strength was tending that way, how he had watched
others fail around him and learned from their mistakes. But he hadn�t yet got
to the question Harry had asked him.

�� Perhaps
that had been on purpose, now that Harry thought about it. He wasn�t sure that
he could have listened properly
before now.

�� What do I
want?� Malfoy stirred one finger around the outside of his glass and met
Harry�s eyes with wide, bright ones. �No less than to be the strongest wizard
in the world. I want to stand at the highest point, look out, and know that no
one can challenge me. Simple, you might think, but it�s not as simple in
practice. There are natural deficiencies in my talent to be overcome, and my
training, and my temperament. It took me years to realize that while magical
power was one way of measuring strength, it wasn�t the only one, that I had to
have political skills and money to go along with that.�

�� I thought
you didn�t have that much money,� Harry muttered, leaning back with a dish of
strawberries and cream, as his mind locked onto rumors that he�d heard a few
years ago.

�� Illusion,�
Malfoy said. �I have enough to buy luxuries and make bribes. More than that,
no, not yet. A lot of it has gone on the rituals. But I�m much less poor than I
would lead people to believe�one reason that I almost never invite them to the
Manor.� He paused, fingers stroking the bubbles that covered the top of his
glass. Harry wasn�t sure what he was drinking and wasn�t sure why he should
care. �And what do you want?�

�� Harry
glanced quickly at him, to see if this was a joke. But Malfoy�s gaze was steady
and inviting, and he looked as if he would believe almost anything Harry said.

�� Harry
swallowed once and then murmured, �Freedom. I�didn�t realize how much I wanted
that until you started talking about it, but then I ventured out yesterday
after we spoke. I went to a shielded place and used my magic to destroy a few
objects there, but it wasn�t enough. So I commanded my magic to destroy
something slowly, and that worked. It worked.
I realized that I didn�t have to stay behind wards all the time if I wanted to
keep the rest of the world safe. I want to walk where I wish, and do what I
want, and do other things with my magic than simply destroy, as exciting as
that could be.� He swallowed the last strawberry with regret, closing his eyes
so that he could savor the tingle on his tongue.

�� You
deserve to have that,� Malfoy said, and his voice was warm. �I think our
desires complement each other. Be powerful, and you can never be made a slave.�

�� Harry
opened his eyes. His head was clearing somewhat from his daze of pleasure. �How
does that work, though? If you want to be the most powerful wizard in the
world, then you�ll need any ally, even me, to be second-best.�

�� Malfoy�s
eyes were enormous in the firelight, the grey irises flickering with the
dancing flames. He reached out and Harry took his hand as though he had planned
to clasp it. Malfoy pulled him closer, closer, until Harry had to rise to his
feet and take a step forwards or risk upsetting the little table between them.
Malfoy had stood up at the same time and put his drink down, though Harry
hadn�t realized that.

�� Now he
brought his hand around so that his wrist rested against the back of Harry�s
neck and whispered, �I could tolerate an equal. As long as there is no one stronger than me. I need to stand
highest. I don�t need to stand alone.�

�� He called
his magic to the surface of his skin again.

�� Harry shut
his eyes. This was what he had wanted, he thought in a rush of feeling like
falling out of a cloud into midair, more than he had wanted freedom or control
of his magic in the last few days or a good meal. He had wanted to touch Malfoy
again while the fire leaped through him, this holy fire that advanced and
retreated and rose and spiraled around him in a shining gyre.

�� Malfoy
sighed. Harry couldn�t tell what he was feeling. He didn�t care. He reached out
and laid his hands on Malfoy�s arms, sinking his fingers deep.

�� The fire
danced into his hands.

�� Harry
gasped. Shimmering curtains of heat swayed around him, parting and stroking
against his skin like gauzy cloth, billowing and sighing. Harry tilted his head
back while keeping his hands in place, bending towards the floor, trying to
understand how the heat he was only used to in his groin could be throbbing
from every part of his body at once.

�� He felt
like a polished jewel, the light of magic reflecting off his facets, turning
his body to colored glass.

�� Potter,�
Malfoy choked. Harry opened his eyes and stared up at those hot grey eyes so
far away, and wondered what Malfoy was feeling from him. Surely not the same
thing, because Harry couldn�t control his magic the same way.

�� But it was
enough to make a curl of brilliant blue flame emerge from his throat as Harry
watched.

�� Harry
surged back upright and captured Malfoy�s lips, sticking his tongue into
Malfoy�s mouth to pursue that curl of flame. Malfoy cried out into his throat
and seized him, pulling him so near that Harry�s head ached from the proximity.
They swayed back and forth, supported by magic or the table or the chairs;
Harry could feel only a solid, real presence near them, not tell what it was.

�� Malfoy
turned then and laid Harry down. Harry went willingly, because he could cling
to Malfoy and bring him with him, so that they lay there, chest to chest.

�� The magic
hissed around them, and warbled, and twined, and Harry found himself on a pile
of shifting scarlet snakes, dazzles of light vibrating past his eyes. He opened
his legs, clasped them shut against Malfoy�s hips, and arched up.

�� Malfoy
closed his eyes with a shaky groan. The fluttering of his lashes complemented
the flashes of radiation Harry could see working through his veins. He opened
his mouth and clamped it onto Malfoy�s throat like a vampire.

�� Malfoy
shuddered and huffed above him, hands flying across Harry�s sides. Harry was
the one in control here, the one anchored, despite lying beneath Malfoy. He
laughed and felt the scrape of scales across his skin before he humped his hips
forwards crudely but powerfully, once, twice, again.

�� Malfoy was
shaking. Harry knew his orgasm was coming.

�� And the
magic came with it.

�� The fire
rushed out of the hearth and whirled around them both, spinning a net of
crimson weighted with gold at the corners. Malfoy�s body grew so warm beneath
Harry�s hands that he would have had to let him go in pain if not for the
delighted answer of his magic, which
felt destruction around it and knew it could rise. Their powers reached out and
grabbed each other, familiar as two hands, as the Floo powder and the power
that would swing Harry through the fire to his destination.

�� His body
was afire. Harry could feel his skin crisping and curling away, his bones
bursting apart in explosions of heat. His back arched again and again, out of
his control, simple spasms. His legs were having convulsions, and he wasn�t in
control anymore. The magic gathered itself and sprang, using its claws to tear
and rasp at him, and he came as if he was dying, as if he was splitting, as if
he was burning.

�� The
pleasure was so intense that it spun him apart. Harry shattered into stars,
into sparks, on a dark background. He descended into nothingness, accompanied
only by the keen sensation of his own helpless whimpers.

�� He opened
his eyes into stillness.

�� Malfoy lay
sprawled on top of him, mouth open, head hanging. His blond hair clung to his
cheeks, plastered there. Harry tried to pull a strand of it away and found he
couldn�t. Malfoy grunted and stirred in discomfort, blinking hard. His eyes
were stuck shut with what looked like powdered diamonds.

�� Harry
turned his head.

�� They didn�t
lie in the midst of desolation, but it was bloody close. The furniture around
them was scorched, the carpet gaping with black holes. Stones had been shredded
loose from the fireplace, and the walls were scored with the passage of their
flight. The curtains on the windows had blown away. Harry looked down and
realized they were lying on the remnants of the small table, which had become a
few exhausted snakes.

�� Wow,� he
whispered.

�� Malfoy
looked down at him. Harry met his gaze, fearless for the first time in years.

*

�� Draco had
not intended to destroy one of the finest rooms in the Manor. He had not
intended to have sex with Potter, for that matter, or do anything but touch him
with a bit of his magic to show him what could
be.

�� But for the
first time in more than a decade, he had tasted a new form of power. And his
heart was alive in his chest with something keener and hotter and more painful
than joy.

�� He said
nothing, because words could not convey what he felt, but simply coiled his
tongue around Potter�s lips and let that be his answer.

*

�� SP777:
Wonder no more! Harry and Draco don�t have big objections to intimacy; Harry
simply hadn�t considered it before, and Draco thought he wouldn�t find an
equal.

�� thrnbrooke:
Ginny was horrible? Why?

�� W�lkchen:
Well, Gilfleur is wary of him because of his power. But there is definitely
more to him than that. He hasn�t had much chance to show that other side until
now, though.

�� Shadow
Lily: Oh, Draco intends to be part of Harry�s better life, all the way down.

�� polka dot: He
isn�t ready yet, emotionally or physically. He could run for it, sure, but then
he�d have to deal with the Wizengamot hunting him, trying to find a way to
confront his friends that would satisfy him, and other issues. Much better to
wait and break free when everything is arranged.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Ragnarok