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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter
Seven�Collision

�� What�s
going to happen next?� Harry asked later, when they were sitting in a different
room and eating another meal. This time, Malfoy was eating with him, and the
food wasn�t as wildly sweet, but Harry could bear the strong red meat and the sharp
cheese. It was what he needed after an experience as intense as that one.

�� That
depends on what you intend to do,� Malfoy said, laying down a block of white
cheese that stank, as far as Harry was concerned, and leaning forwards to study
him. Harry licked his lips and tried to keep his attention focused on the
table. He had no reason to be dreaming of what Malfoy�s chin would taste like.
�Do you need to make up your mind about how far you�re willing to go, or can I
trust you to keep up your part of the conquest?�

�� Harry
shuddered a little and took one more bite of the lightly sauced chicken in
front of him. �It would help if I knew what we�re supposed to be conquering,�
he said. �The British wizarding world? The Wizengamot? Europe?�

�� Yes,�
Malfoy said.

�� Harry
stared at him. He would have laughed a short time ago, if anyone had said
anything like that to him. Who did Malfoy think he was?

�� But now all
that happened was that his breath became short and fantasies crowded his mind.
He couldn�t define those fantasies very well, some of them were heavy and
richly colored and some of them were thin and delicate, but he knew they
existed, and he knew he could grasp them if he dared.

�� Ridiculous things become real when you have
power that�s capable of achieving them, Harry thought, and his face felt
hot and his heartbeat dizzying. I always
did, but I didn�t dare think that way. And why not? What kind of moral censure
will come down on me if I do? Having the thoughts isn�t the same as doing the
actions.

�� He was
starting to get a glimpse of just how cramped his previous life had been. He
ducked his head and ate one more bite of meat, and then he felt Malfoy�s hand
come to rest on his as it reached across the table.

�� Harry froze
and gazed at the slender white fingers, the blue veins glowing through them,
the shadows of nail and knuckle. No one would ever think, from looking at that
hand, that Malfoy contained enough power to break worlds, or an ambition that
would set him up as a kind of king. But then again, Harry thought, turning his
hand over to grasp it back, most people probably wouldn�t say that about his
blunt nails or square palms, either.

�� Listen to
me,� Malfoy said in a focused voice. �I can only go as far as my power will
take me, alone. I need your cooperation to both increase the power and achieve
my ambitions. For that, I need to keep you happy. We won�t do anything that you
don�t want to do, because ultimately that would be fatal to me as well as to
you.�

�� Harry
waited a moment. He would have expected to feel creeping disgust that Malfoy
was speaking like that. Honesty was one thing, but transparent power-hunger and
naked greed was another.

�� But
instead, all he felt was swelling excitement, and an emotion that was so
strange he waited for long moments to identify it, feeling it trickle through
him like a heavy white flood of water. Approval.

�� He approved
of the way that Malfoy was approaching this. He could have tried lies and
subtler manipulations; he could have tried to pretend that he had something at
heart other than his own good, such as the good of the people who would be
better-ruled by him than the Wizengamot. But he didn�t.

�� Harry was
tired of pretense more than anything else, he thought suddenly. Pretending that
his magic was evil, pretending that he served the Wizengamot like a good little
weapon and dreamed of nothing else, pretending that he had moved to Australia
and that he couldn�t visit his friends. He had run away from all the
complications because he had been sure�sure, without even questioning or
testing the conclusion�that that was the better way.

�� But merely
having this level of magic didn�t make him evil. It was the purpose he wielded
it for that would do that.

�� Feeling as
though he had smashed through a wall into the middle of a different and more
difficult life, Harry lifted his head and took a deep breath. �I�m willing to
begin the first of those rituals right now. We might as well take advantage of
my presence in your house, don�t you think?�

�� Malfoy�s
eyes sharpened, and his breathing briefly made him sound as if he was having a
seizure.� Then he leaned across the
table, cradled Harry�s head in heavy, pinching hands, and brought his lips down
on his.

�� Harry
returned the kiss eagerly, thrusting his tongue out so he could match him snog
for snog. His body was stiff in all the right places, and his excitement made
him feel as if he was pitching downhill in a sled, out of control. No matter
what he met along the way, he knew he wouldn�t die, but there were other
possible destinies, other problems. Harry thought he was finally ready to meet
them.

*

�� Draco nodded
to Potter, who stopped and stood obediently in place on one of the points of
the five-pointed star laid into the dungeon floor. Draco walked one more time
around the circle that contained the star, studying the thin, precise lines of
the carvings. One mistake could make the ritual blow up in their faces.

�� But he saw
no such mistake. Why should he have? He cared more about these rituals to raise
his power than anything else, and he had made his preparations over years and
checked and rechecked them again, as well as hiring experts to check them who
had agreed to be Obliviated afterwards.
Of course he would leave nothing to chance, and of course he would not rely on
his own eyes alone.

�� It was
finally going to happen. He was finally going to have the kind of control and
power that he�d always dreamed of.

�� Ready?� he
asked, lifting his eyebrows at Potter.

�� Potter
nodded quickly, once, and then seemed to realize that the swiftness of his
gesture might not inspire much confidence in Draco. This time, the nod was
slower, and he offered a temperate smile. Draco dipped his head in response�he
and Potter had gone over this several times now, and Potter had absorbed the
instructions as if he was starved for new material to think about�and then
reached down and picked up the silver chisel that had lain on the floor at his
feet.

�� I call the
fire.� His voice sounded smaller in the confines of the dungeon room than he
had thought it would. But Draco had performed rituals like this before, as many
as he could alone, and he was used to the sensation. He kept his eyes fixed on
the chisel, which shone like a star in his hand, and the world around him
wavered as if he was seeing it through a curtain of smoke or incense. His
ordinary perceptions were shifting and slipping away, to be replaced by ritual
perceptions.

�� I call the
air.� He turned and faced the wall behind him, and a glassy image of the chisel
formed and fell into his free hand. Draco held them both up, displaying them to
the silent powers behind the ritual, whatever combination of forces in magic
and nature made them work. He thought he could feel someone bowing to him from
an immense distance, but he had never been sure how real that was. He turned to
face the circle again.

�� Potter was
staring at him in wonder, but he had remembered Draco�s instructions well
enough to pick up the stone knife that had been lying at his feet. He offered
it to the star, head bowed, and turned in a slow circle so that he was facing
the outer ring.

�� I call the
earth,� he said. His voice shook infinitesimally, but steadied as Draco
listened. Draco had a smile of approval ready when Potter turned round again.
It wouldn�t do to discourage him before the magic proper began.

�� Draco
looked to the center of the star, and saw an image forming there, a reflection
in a seemingly distorted mirror that grew more and more real as he watched. In
an instant it was a knife, with the same kind of blocky hilt and slender blade
as the one that Potter held, but rippling with the consistency and color of
water.

�� It hovered,
then flew towards Potter, who barely got a hand up to catch it in time. Draco
raised one eyebrow in disapprobation. Potter flushed, but maintained his grip
on both knives and nodded shakily. Draco took him at his word and raised the
silvery chisel of light, then the airy one. Potter mimicked him with the knives
in order, the real and the unreal.

�� I will
carve out my power,� Draco said, and the dungeon echoed around him and then
settled into a listening silence. Potter looked half-alarmed. Draco wondered
why. Of course, if the ritual that had changed his magic hadn�t been of his own
making, then he might have never experienced this sensation of someone, or
something, watching and judging.

�� Draco
lashed sideways with the silver chisel, towards the uppermost point of the
star. The air shuddered and rang, and the chisel stuck in something invisible
but solid. Draco laughed and brought the glassy chisel forwards in turn. The world
sighed as he reached the full extension of his arms and then hauled back.

�� The air in
front of him tore down the front like a set of cheap robes ruined by an
impatient lover. Draco pulled his chisels towards the sides, coaxing, and the
rip grew wider and wider, flooding the room with pale light. Draco stepped
sideways and launched the glassy chisel from his hand. It vanished in midair,
and he stood in the center of a pool of growing radiance, moving backwards in
careful steps so that he could let it pour into the world.

�� When he
glanced to the side, it was to find Potter staring at him in wonder, completely
ignoring the part he was supposed to play.

�� Draco
didn�t dare speak a word; unexpected phrases at this point in a ritual could
take on a life of their own. He narrowed his eyes and jerked his head, though,
and Potter started and came to life.

�� I will cut
out my power,� he said, voice uncertain, and then knelt down and stabbed into
the center of the star with the stone knife. Draco could see the muscles in his
shoulders flexing and knew he was bracing himself for the collision of blade
with floor.

�� Instead,
though, the blade slid smoothly into the floor, as if it were cutting ink or
butter. Potter staggered, but luckily kept from falling face-down into the
center of the star, which would have had effects that Draco didn�t care to
speculate on. His watery knife joined the first a moment later, in a parallel
cut.

�� The floor
shuddered, and the stone flowed aside. Draco caught a glimpse of brightness
below and licked his lips. He knew what this was�he was drawing power from the
molten core of the earth�but for once, knowledge failed to lighten his
impression of awe and terror.

�� Potter
hopped backwards on his heels. Draco tensed, but he paused, teetering, on the
curve of the circle around the star rather than crossing it. His eyes were even
wider now, and he had lost his glasses somewhere along the way. The watery
knife, still embedded in the floor, turned to steam in the wake of the fiery
light.

�� Red light from
the floor spilled up and towards the pale light that Draco had pulled out of
the air. Draco watched them inch closer to each other, his nose stinging from
the rapidity of the breaths he drew.

�� They met.

�� And
exploded.

�� Draco
laughed aloud and raced forwards, aiming for the uppermost point of the star. The
light danced around him, not offering heat against his skin or a sensation or
pressure or anything other than intense radiance, and then landed on the circle
that surrounded them. It charged like a wildfire that had agreed to burn only
in a designated area.

�� Draco
grinned fiercely and bent his head to his task, his feet churning wildly along
the lines of the star, never deviating from them. His task was to reach the
highest point of the star before the light did. Even if he did not, however, he
would catch some of the power that that mingled and dancing fire, a pale rose
in color, represented.

�� But that
was not enough for him. He did not want to absorb part of it. He wanted to
absorb all of it.

�� On he ran,
and the air around him turned sweet and warmer than before. The longer the
light existed in the world, the more it took on the properties of normal fire.

�� Draco could
hear his lungs heaving in his chest. He could feel sweat starting on his
forehead, and a brief, fleeting thought crossed his mind, about how he would
probably appear to Potter, who stood gaping in his place.

�� But Potter
would see worse than that before they were done. He had seen Draco decorated
with sweat already when they�d fucked. Draco laughed aloud at the thought that
something as simple as that would deter him, and ran faster.

*

�� Harry
stared. He knew that, and he couldn�t help it. If Malfoy glanced over at him,
he would probably think Harry was besotted, and he would laugh the way he was
doing now from what sounded like sheer exhilaration, and it would serve Harry
right.

�� But he couldn�t have closed his jaw. He used
the notion to comfort himself as he watched the fire curling like a wave over
Malfoy�s shoulders, highlighting his pale color and making him appear to flush,
so white was his skin.

�� Malfoy�s
boots hit the uppermost point of the star, and he whirled around, his head
tossed back, his arms wide open to embrace the crashing wave.

�� The light
slammed into him.

�� Harry
didn�t know why, but he had expected that light to bear Malfoy off his feet and
smash him into the far wall. It didn�t, though. It snapped and sang with a
noise like a fire�s crackling heard from a distance, and then Malfoy was
blazing, roseate flames curling down and under his arms, cradling his legs,
outlining his hips.

�� His robes
burned away. Harry gasped aloud, but Malfoy, though he turned around to face
him, didn�t seem hurt. He winked and thrust his hips at Harry, naked and
glowing, sexual in a way that made Harry weak with a storm of desire.

�� Look at
me!� he howled, and the cry that would have seemed childish and stupid in a lot
of other circumstances Harry could think of became the only reasonable option
when he was shining like that. �This
is what you can be if you don�t fear, if you reach out and grasp the star
that�s dangling in your hand!�

�� Harry shook
his head, wanting to ask how that could happen for him when his magic would
prevent him from doing anything as creative as Malfoy came up with, but Malfoy
had turned back to the fire. Most of it had gathered into a single great flame
on the floor a few feet from him, between the point of the star and the outer
circle.

�� Malfoy
laughed again and hurled himself forwards, straight into the flame.

�� Harry
shouted this time, but the sudden singing of the fire overwhelmed his voice.
The flame spread out two branches like arms, as if it were imitating Malfoy,
and then whirled and grew, becoming a wall, a bulwark, that stretched along the
line of the circle. Harry watched it curve towards him, stupefied. He had no
doubt that he could destroy it if it actually threatened him�his magic still
moved inside him with more power than he felt in the room�but he was concerned
about what had happened to Malfoy.

�� He didn�t
have to wait long to find out. A figure stepped out of the fire and walked
towards Harry, glowing like glass lit from within. Its smile was lazy, its
muscles hard and bright, its stride such a swagger that Harry again felt weak.
He braced himself against the wall of the room and shook his head.

�� You�re
mad, Malfoy, you know that?� he asked in a pathetic voice.

�� Malfoy
laughed that laugh again, the one that told Harry part of how they would
conquer the world, and drew Harry into a kiss. Harry didn�t resist.

*

�� Bathing in
the fire of a successfully completed ritual was like nothing else.

�� And this
time, Draco could truthfully say that he�d never had an experience that even
compared, because this ritual was more than twice as powerful as the ones that
he�d been able to perform alone.

�� The moment
when he fully grasped the power was obscure in his memory, as it needed to be.
Draco was not sure that a human brain could stand the sheer drum and flame of
that magic. But before and after the blankness, he was caught up in the glory,
and he could have flown to the moon on the sheer strength of it.

�� The
expression on Potter�s face when he came out for the last time made it all the
better. Potter stared at him, openly worshipful, as if he was a god, and
reached out a trembling hand that Draco clasped and drew around his back. His
lips were not as warm as the fire, but Draco knew he couldn�t exist at the
height of ecstasy at all times. Carrying stars within his skin made the kiss
better.

�� And that
was what he wanted: to be better, stronger, at all times. To soar until he
reached the point where the heavens ran out.

�� He drew
back from the kiss with Potter and waited patiently until Potter swallowed and
regained his feet and could look at him. Then he smiled. Potter jerked as
though someone had stung him.

�� That�s the
way the ritual is supposed to work,� Draco said. �That�s the way that they will
work in the future, once we have mastered the proper way to conduct
them�including the ones that will modify your magic.�

�� If they
exist,� Potter said, but Draco knew his pessimism was simply reflexive. He was
looking at Draco with wide eyes, and his lips were well-kissed, and he kept
reaching up as if he needed to adjust his glasses and then remembering they
weren�t there, so that his hand hovered in front of his face without moving.

�� They do,�
Draco said. �Perhaps not the one you found. That would simply destroy your
magic and leave you a Squib.� He cocked a challenging eyebrow. He had got part
of what he wanted from Potter without any definite attitude change, but to win
more, he would have to see one. �Are you content, now, to lose your power
completely?�

�� Potter
stood up straight and shook his head. �Not if there�s any way that I can retain
it,� he said. �But there has to be a way.�

�� Draco
laughed. �I never thought that you would be the one cautious of making
commitments,� he said when Potter gave him a curious look. �You seemed more the
one to spring into the fire the way I did.�

�� Potter�s jaw
tightened. �Live under conditions of repression for ten years and see what
happens to you,� he muttered.

�� Draco
nodded, but said, �That�s why I want to see you make definite changes. If you
rebel against the Wizengamot openly before we are ready, particularly when
Gilfleur has access to something like my level of power, you wouldn�t
demonstrate wisdom, I agree. But what about seeing your friends? Do you have
courage enough to do that?�

�� Potter�s
eyes were so wide now that Draco felt a bit envious. He hadn�t managed to do
that even when he took Potter in his arms. �You would want me to speak to Ron and Hermione? Why? What if they try to stop
us?�

�� Us. Draco had never imagined that he
could like hearing a simple word so much. He handed Potter another smile, and
Potter half-closed his eyes and turned his head away as if the expression was
too bright for him to face.

�� That�s
where Memory Charms come in,� Draco said. �Always useful to ensure that certain
people who disagree with me have untroubled lives. I don�t want to kill them or
harm them,� he added, when Potter opened his mouth. �I think them essential to
your psychological well-being, in fact. But I want to make it clear that they
won�t be allowed to stand in our way because you have fears for the integrity
of their minds. Do you understand?�

�� Potter
nodded shortly. �As long as you�re delicate when you use the Memory Charm. I�ve
executed a few people who went mad because the Obliviators had done their work
poorly, and the Ministry didn�t want anyone to know.�

�� I have no
wish to kill or harm them, as I said,� Draco responded quietly. He cocked his
head to the side and studied Potter, who managed to keep from shuffling his
feet around, with what looked like heavy effort. �Do you still remember the
names of the people you executed?� Draco asked abruptly. �And the official
reasons why?�

�� Of
course,� Potter snapped. �I remember every person I kill.� For a moment, he
looked like the haunted hero Draco remembered from Hogwarts.

�� Good,�
Draco breathed. That might be good blackmail material for the Ministry someday.
He wondered that Potter had never tried to use it so. He might have improved
his position even if he couldn�t completely escape from the Wizengamot�s
control.

�� Then he
reminded himself, again, that Potter had been alone. He seemed to need allies
to do anything productive.

�� Well, he need not fear that I�ll leave him. Potter
had some new form of power to offer every time Draco turned around. He would be
a fool to abandon him when he would never find another ally like this again.

�� He felt a
pulse of desire in his groin, and smiled. Though he was not someone to make
decisions on the basis of sex alone, he would also be a fool to abandon a lover
who could make him feel the way Potter did.

�� We can use
that,� he explained, when Potter gave him a dim, puzzled look.

�� Potter�s
mouth opened slowly, and to Draco�s relief, it made him look simply startled
instead of weak-witted. �Yes, we can,� he breathed, and then he turned his head
to the side and showed a wicked grin that stunned Draco. �I never thought of
that. Why did I never think of that? You�re good for me, in more ways than
one.�

�� Draco reached
out and kissed Potter again, holding him still by main force. Potter didn�t
show much disposition to stay still, though, squirming against him and pressing
close to him with grumbles and grunts and sighs. Draco pulled away panting, and
raised an eyebrow. �Do you want to confront your friends tomorrow?�

�� Potter
nodded. His face looked alive again, the shadows of doubt burned away by the
future that Draco could offer him. �Yes. I have to get back tonight, or the
Wizengamot is going to notice my absence.�

�� That was
too true for argument. Draco kissed him regretfully one more time and
accompanied him to the front door, finding Potter�s constant sidelong glances
at his nakedness amusing. If there was no one to notice it except him deep in
the dungeons of the Manor, there was no one to notice it in the rest of the
house, either. His house-elves were too well-trained to respond to such things.

�� Draco
leaned against the door when Potter had gone, his arms braced, and stroked
himself to a second orgasm imagining Potter�s face transfigured and lit as his
had been with the completion of a successful ritual.

*

�� Shadow
Lily: Thanks so much! I�m enjoy writing a Harry and Draco who are both strong.

�� thrnbrooke:
I see what you mean, but that honestly isn�t Ginny�s intention. She does regret
that she doesn�t see him anymore.

�� SP777:
Thanks! I�ll be responding to your e-mail soon.

�� anonanon:
Thanks for reviewing.

�� alwayslove:
Thank you!

�� polka dot:
It can get even worse, believe me�

�� qwerty:
Thank you!

�� W�lkchen:
Thanks! I don�t know if I would say that Harry is Dark, but he is arguably so. He
is starting to lose that fear of doing destructive things, anyway, that led him
to become an executioner for ten years.

�� Regina: It�s
an interesting idea! I can see why you would want to share it.

�� And no,
Harry is losing that idea. Of course, he had to lose part of it long before,
given his magic.

�� angelmuziq:
Thanks! I think Harry is getting in touch with his dark side here.
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