Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Here But For the Grace of Merlin	By : makochan0217 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. We make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Warnings: Angst, OOC, DH spoilers (minus Epilogue), language, violence, self-harm, drinking, slash, smut, non-con, BDSM

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Publishing, and Warner Bros and some other stupid companies. I make nothing from this piece of fanfiction, and suing would be pointless, unless you like lint and bad skin!

Author’s Notes: Thanks to Sevfan, Jamie and Skeren Dreamera for making this look better than I think I could! I could never thank you ladies enough! I am surprised, and extremely pleased, to see how well Narcissa is being received in this story. I was sure that everyone would hate her, but since I adore her meddling, it’s nice to see that others feel the same way!

Chapter Seven – Moronic Death Eaters Are Truly Troubling

“I’d like to apologize on behalf of the Ministry that your home was attacked last night, Mrs. Malfoy,” Minister Shacklebolt said in his rumbling bass voice.

“Well, I must admit that I am a little surprised that they managed to get past the wards on the Manor that were bolstered after we were allowed to return home,” Narcissa said politely. “However, my son has told me that he believes that my brother-in-law and his friends got into the Manor through the dungeons, which are on a different set of wards and hadn’t been rekeyed.”

“Hm, we were unaware of that problem,” Arthur Weasley said. “I’m sure that we can take care of it later, if you’d like.”

“Actually, my son is interested in redoing all of the wards in our home, the dungeons included. Since he is now the head of the family, it is within his rights.” She gave them a slight smile. ‘If you try and dispute this, I’ll know exactly how you view my family – my son specifically – and I will deal with you accordingly.’

“That’s not a bad idea,” Shacklebolt mused. “However, we’d like to keep the alert wards. I understand that your son set them off as soon as the attack began.”

“Yes, Draco’s quick thinking saved our lives last night.” She raised a pale eyebrow and waited for whatever else they wanted from her.

“As long as your son agrees to the alert wards, I’ll allow the rewarding of Malfoy Manor. If Lucius wasn’t under house arrest, I’d let them be removed, Mrs. Malfoy. I hope you understand.” The minister seemed to shift around on his feet nervously until she dipped her head regally. “Actually, that’s not all that we’d like to talk to you about, Mrs. Malfoy. Avery and Macnair have been talking since their arrest.”

“Oh, and what did those two gentlemen have to say?” Narcissa asked.

“Apparently, the idea was to break into Malfoy Manor and convince Lucius to give them money so they could escape Britain,” Weasley said. “It wasn’t until they got there that the Lestrange brothers changed the plan.”

“And have you checked their wands completely for what spells they used against my family?”

“Yes, and if the Lestrange brothers ever recover from the attack, they’ll be moved to immediate execution as per the new law passed by the Wizengamot last week,” Shacklebolt answered. He didn’t seem to like the fact that that particular law was passed, but it had been in all of the papers that anyone baring the Dark Mark that escaped from imprisonment in Azkaban would be executed, since the Ministry no longer used the Dementors and their Kiss.

“Well, it couldn’t happen to two nicer men, but from what I understand, the curse they used mimics Muggle mustard gas and is extremely painful.”

“We’d like to know how your son escaped being harmed by the Corrosive Curse,” Weasley replied.

“You’ll have to ask him, but I’ve sent him home to rest. He was very tired,” she answered.

“Will you please let your son know that we’d like to speak to him again?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Certainly, gentlemen,” Narcissa said. “Is there anything else that I can do for you this afternoon?”

“That will be all, Mrs. Malfoy,” Weasley said, his voice only slightly hitching on her last name. Well, she couldn’t blame him. The Weasleys and Malfoys had been feuding for ten generations, eleven if one counted Draco and the younger Weasleys. Blood feuds were difficult to overcome, after all. “I’ve heard that Lucius was hit with an improperly cast Bedazzling Hex. Is that true?”

‘As if you don’t know already, Arthur Weasley,’ she thought sourly. ‘His attempt at being stupid does not fool me.’ She gave him a small, sad smile. “Yes, it is true. Healer Mindwillow assures me that he can obtain some help from a Curse Breaker, but I have not heard from him in some hours.”

“Hm, my eldest son is a Curse Breaker for Gringotts,” Weasley said distractedly.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Just what do you have in mind, Weasley? I am aware of what your oldest son is and does for a living.’

“Perhaps I can talk to him for you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

‘I’d rather eat dirt than have your son anywhere near my husband with a wand.’ She gave him an insincere smile. “Oh, that’s not necessary, Deputy Minister, but I am grateful for the thought.” The two men bowed and headed to Potter’s room, leaving Narcissa with more questions than answers. She supposed she’d just have to wait to get some of them answered, and if there was one thing Narcissa Black Malfoy was known for, it was her patience.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He hated to admit it, but Draco felt like a new man once he’d rested, showered and eaten. His mother had been right to send him home. If there had been a situation at the hospital, he would have been completely useless, and with his father’s life on the line that was totally unacceptable. Although, so was doing nothing, like he was now. It was only four P.M. and although he’d only had two hours of sleep, he was wide awake now. That, however, might have had something to do with the way the scene with Potter kept replaying in his mind. The sight of those high cheekbones dusted a bright red did something to Draco that he was loathe to name.

‘Potter is attracted to me,’ he thought gleefully. ‘What I could have done with this information back at school. I could still sell the news to the papers. I’m sure that detestable Skeeter woman would jump at the chance to print any bit of news about Potter…’ He scowled at that thought though. For some reason, he just wasn’t ready to share his little bit of information. He’d sit on it and see how things panned out.

‘If I could only figure out just what game Mother is playing… It’s obvious that she is trying to get into a good spot with our hapless hero, but for what purpose?’ He scowled as he looked out of the large windows of his room that had been repaired by the house elves after the attack. Everything was quiet and hardly anything moved out on the grounds, aside from an elf from time to time as they took care of the impeccable gardens. ‘Does she harbor some illusion that since Potter is parentless, he would let her direct his actions through subtle manipulations? He’s too stupid to see the beauty in my mother’s plans and would rant and rave over them.’

After a few long moments of staring mindlessly out on the grounds, Draco paled. “Dear Merlin,” he whispered. “It’s worse than that…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco reluctantly returned to St. Mungo’s restrictive ward, all of his senses on high alert. The attack on the Manor still had him on edge, and even a little sleep and a full meal did nothing to relax him, not with Narcissa running around plotting. For the second time that day, he wished his father was well enough to keep her in line, but he realized that it was futile. His father would never be well enough again. It was why Lucius had made him head of the family. Never again could Draco rely on his father’s calm, self-possessed presence. He would have to learn to fend for himself.

He found his mother where he left her, sitting in those hideous chairs, a book in her hand and wearing a clean set of robes. She looked the perfect picture of a patiently waiting family member; however, the tight grip on the book’s edges belied her rapidly working mind. Cautiously, he approached her. “Mother, have you heard anything since I went home?”

“Oh, Draco, there you are,” she said wearily. “No, Mindwillow hasn’t returned since he told me what curse was used. I can only assume, which I hate to do, that he has been unable to reach a Curse Breaker willing to assist in the case.”

He mentally snarled at the injustice of the whole situation. Potter got all the attention here, while his father languished with subpar care. It was so typical of the way the Wizarding world coddled the stupid Boy Who Lived and wished all the Malfoys off the face of the planet. “Did anything happen while I was gone?”

“The Minister and Deputy Minister came to speak to me for a few minutes,” she said off-handedly. “The Deputy Minister even mentioned that his son, the eldest, was a Curse Breaker and asked if I wanted him to speak to the boy.”

“What was your answer?” His anger was quelled by the look of derision she gave him. “Of course… Did anything else happen?”

“No, it was quiet, my son,” she replied, shutting her book and standing. “I am going to go home and get some sleep myself. You will contact me if there’s any change, yes?”

“Of course, Mother. Please rest. I’ll stay here for the night. You can return in the morning.”

She gave him an indulgent smile and patted him on the cheek. “You are a good son, my darling. Perhaps you should visit with Mr. Potter again to pass some time, unless you brought a book of your own.” He pulled out his Muggle Studies text, the one that the Ministry recommended that he get for his N.E.W.T.s, and she sighed. “Alright then, be safe.” She gave him a cool kiss before he watched her glide down the hall as if she owned the hospital. However, the thought that she was still up to something wouldn’t leave him, even as he sat and tried to read his textbook.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Healer Sharpe,” Narcissa said, making the woman in the green Healer robes turn to face her. “I’d like a word, if you have a moment.”

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Malfoy?” Sharpe asked, shoving a few strands of her stringy, short brown hair behind her ears.

“I understand that you are treating Harry Potter.”

The Healer’s brown eyes grew sharper and narrowed as she looked Narcissa up and down. The blonde just stood there, waiting for the other woman, not worried for a moment that the Healer would do something to her. “And what is that information to you? I am unaware of the two of you being family, and even if you were, Mr. Potter is well over the age of adulthood and able to consult on his own case.”

“Oh, no, that’s not why I’m asking, Madam Healer. I am merely wishing to speak to you regarding the numerous cases of magical backlash that have sprung up since the Dark Lord’s defeat.” Narcissa’s smooth answer and calm tone seemed to make the Healer relax, and she even smiled at Narcissa. It didn’t hurt that Narcissa’s answer was even mostly true.

“I haven’t treated your husband and I’m not familiar with his case. I understood that Healer Mindwillow was assigned to take care of him.”

“Yes, Mindwillow is the Healer helping my husband, but I am worried about my son, actually.”

“Ah, yes, he was exposed to the Dark Lord for a long time during the last year of his reign, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct.” It seemed the woman was more informed than anyone else, aside from Healer Jacobi, could have been. “Would that have done something to Draco?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard from the other Healers and from the papers that have been published since the end of the war, the longer the exposure, the greater the case of backlash. Mr. Potter, of course, is the most famous example, aside from your husband Lucius, of how damaging this has turned out to be.” She shuffled the stack of parchment in her hand and sighed. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this discussion in my office? I’ve just finished my rounds, you see, and I’m exhausted.” She gave a slight, wry smile that Narcissa could not help but return. “And while we talk, you could tell me your son’s symptoms.”

“Certainly,” Narcissa answered, gesturing for the other woman to lead the way. “Since the Final Battle, he has become rather… high strung. I believe that’s the term. I understand that my son has always been an intense person, but he was raised from an early age to hold his temper. Of course, there are exceptions to this, and most of them centered on his rivalry with Mr. Potter.”

“That was publicized, yes, but he’s had trouble controlling his anger since then?” Sharpe asked as she waved Narcissa into a crowded office that was barely big enough for the desk and two chairs it held. Evidently, St. Mungo’s did not care to give comfort to anyone gracing its hallowed halls.

“Yes, that is part of the problem. He’s moody. I often find him staring out of the windows of our home, his mind a million miles away. When I call him, he jumps and then becomes angry. That is most unlike him.”

“Oh, that does sound like the depression that has been found in most patients. How would you rate the intensity of his anger?”

“Extreme.”

“Hm….” The Healer tugged on a lock of hair that appeared to be longer than the rest as she thought. “How much time does your son spend alone?”

“Quite a bit, I suppose. He is studying to take his N.E.W.T.s and I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Has he had any visitors? Friends, acquaintances from school, or the like?”

“No, I’m afraid that most of his friends have either been imprisoned or have fled the country,” Narcissa said tersely.

“Oh, hm, well, the reason I asked is because most people who have suffered from this particular form of depression seemed to respond well to outside stimulus.”

“Such as communicating with others?”

“That’s part of it. It’s been suggested that if the patient communicates with someone they have a strong bond with, it helps the magical backlash to dissipate some.”

‘That would explain why when I spoke to Miss Granger this morning that she appeared to be perfectly normal,’ Narcissa thought. “Would getting out of the country help as well?”

“I can only assume so, since it seems that only the Wizarding population of Britain was affected. I have yet to talk to someone who left after the Final Battle and then returned, mind you.”

“I spoke to Miss Hermione Granger. Perhaps you could do the same to help with your research?”

“Thank you for the suggestion. I will definitely keep that in mind.”

“I would just like to clarify something before I leave you, Healer Sharpe. If the one suffering from the backlash had regular contact with someone they have, say, an intense relationship with, then that would help to dissipate some of the nastier aspects?”

“That’s what I’ve been hypothesizing for the last eight months,” the Healer answered happily. “I was going to suggest to Mr. Potter that he stay with friends for a while, actually. It does no one any good for him to sit alone and brood, drinking himself to an early grave.”

“Thank you, Healer Sharpe. You’ve been most helpful.” Narcissa stood and shook the other woman’s hand, a tiny smile playing on her normally blank features. ‘You have no idea how helpful.’

TBC

Aff.net review replies can be found here: http://makochanupdates.livejournal.com/24519.html
- 6
- 7
- 8
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

Here But For the Grace of Merlin