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Soldier's Welcome	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25565 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Eight�Black
and Red

�� Fine, Harry thought, as he leaned
against the wall of Malfoy�s room with his arms folded and tried to pretend
that he wasn�t interested in the thing sitting wrapped on the table. This is fine. We won�t ever talk about
anything that really matters. We�ll fight beside each other and I�ll teach him
spells and he�ll eventually master those spells and won�t need me anymore. He�s
perfectly willing to let it go.

�� But as
Harry shifted again and again, feeling as though his curiosity had taken the
form of ants biting at his ankles, he had to admit something he hadn�t admitted
so far.

�� I�m not willing to let it go.

�� How could
he? He�d kept his head down in the past few weeks, doing all he could to soothe
Hermione�s anxiety about his fits�which kept happening�and keep up in his
classes and stay close to Ron. He�d barely let Malfoy intrude into his thoughts
at all. When he had a dream about Malfoy, which wasn�t a nightmare but was
frustratingly hard to define, he deliberately forgot the details instead of
retaining them as he did with his nightmares. (He thought he could understand
the nightmares if he considered them long enough). No one could accuse him of
trying to take advantage of the accident of incompatible magic and get closer
to the git.

�� But he kept
noticing Malfoy in class anyway, listening for his voice when it was silent,
watching the way he moved in Tactics and Combat. He had seen that Malfoy had
faint wrinkles around his eyes when he squinted in Observation, and he was
alternately smug that the prat displayed his age and angry with himself for
noticing at all.

�� He didn�t
need any more distractions than he had already had, given that the classes kept
increasing in difficulty and Hermione and the instructors watched him with
narrowed eyes. Harry couldn�t figure that last part out at all. It was natural
for Gregory to distrust him, but why Ketchum and Hestia? Harry hadn�t always
done well in their lessons, but he hadn�t done anything to make himself
suspicious. Did they still think that he was behind that illusion and that
message about Nihil somehow?

�� He needed
mental space and clarity so that he could deal with those more pressing things.
That, he told himself, was the only reason he spoke up now.

�� Malfoy.�

�� Malfoy
turned away from his latest wisp of silver smoke and gave Harry an impatient
look. He didn�t speak. Probably thinks
he�s too good to waste his precious words on me, Harry thought, his rebellion
rising again.

�� Does the
compatible magic do other things to you besides making it impossible to attack
the person you have it with with magic?� Harry asked, because the glance of
those grey eyes made him forget any other question he could have asked.

�� Malfoy
stared at him for a moment, then smirked. �Your sentence is a marvel of
non-articulation, Potter,� he said.

�� You know
perfectly well what I mean.� Harry bristled and wondered if he would regret the
impulse to interrupt Malfoy�s concentration.

�� Outer
appearances are at least as important as meanings.� Malfoy adopted a pompous
expression, then let it dissolve and rolled his eyes, presumably because he
could see Harry�s impatience. �To assemble the question that you flung at me as
a jumble of stones into a coherent wall, Potter, yes, compatible magic does
other things. It increases the chance of friendship. I told you that already.
And it can resonate back to the other partner to create shared magical strength
in duels, as you have seen.�

�� Harry shook
his head in irritation. �That�s not what I mean. I mean�� He hesitated. He
hadn�t clearly realized before that admitting he had noticed Malfoy in class
would mean, well, admitting he had noticed Malfoy in class.

�� Oh, this must be good, to make you stammer and
flush so.� Malfoy�s voice had dropped low with delight. From observing him,
Harry knew it was the tone he used when some complicated problem had fallen out
the way he wanted it to. He bit his lip and wished he didn�t know that. �Out with
it.�

�� All
right,� Harry said, stung and deciding that any humiliation a few minutes in
the future was better than standing here like this and enduring Malfoy�s
mockery. �I catch myself staring at you in class now. I know how you move, what
makes you smile, what you look like in private moments. There�s no rational
reason for me to do that, so I thought it must have something to do with the
magic. That�s all.�

�� He linked
his hands together behind his back for courage and faced Malfoy unflinchingly,
waiting.

*

�� Draco
stared into Potter�s steady eyes and refrained, with difficulty, from licking
his lips.

�� So Potter
felt drawn to him, did he?

�� The truth
was, Draco had no idea whether such things were the result of compatible
magic�which had some irregularities in its manifestation for each pair of
friends it created�or simply because Potter was paying more attention to him because of the compatible magic. But
either way, he could use this fascination.

In a moment, he had altered the
battle plan he had hastily conceived when he saw Potter trying to ignore him.
He would go straight through Potter�s barriers instead of over or around them.
It was such an unfamiliar tactic, coming from a Slytherin, that he did not
think Potter would be able to anticipate and counter it.

�Well,� he said, and deepened his
voice to see what effect that would have on Potter. Potter shifted
uncomfortably. Too little evidence to
know whether the fascination has its sexual side or not, Draco decided with
some regret. �The magic could cause such things, if they happened often enough.
How much do you stare at me, Potter? You�re more subtle than I thought you
were.� The compliment cost him nothing when he was about to gain so great a
prize.

�� Potter
heaved a deep breath and stared at the floor a moment, as though someone had
asked him to hand over the contents of his Gringotts vaults. Then he gave a
tiny nod at no one Draco could see, and looked up. His eyes blazed, but Draco
found himself pleased by that rather than otherwise. Now that Potter couldn�t
hurt him with his wand, it was rather interesting to see the flames that danced
and flickered through his eyes.

�� Every
class,� Potter said. �There�s something about you that pulls me in. You don�t
have to be casting spells or scrambling up stairs in Tactics. Or showing off
the way you do in Combat,� he added, because apparently a speech that passed
without an insult to Draco wasn�t a speech worth making. �You can be staring at
one of those stupid flowers that Pushkin gave to us the other day and I look up
from my flower at you. It�s like I can�t keep my eyes away.� He swallowed. �So
it�s the magic, right?�

�� Of
course,� Draco said. He didn�t need any preparation to lie smoothly and
plausibly; his parents had trained him well enough for that. �What other motive
would you have to look at me?� Poor na�ve
fool. I reckon that I shouldn�t have thought Potter was insensitive to
perfection. It just takes him years longer to notice it than other people.

�� Oh, good,�
Potter said, and sighed out noisily. �How do we get it to stop?�

�� Draco
rolled his eyes as all his irritation with Potter came jumping down his throat
again. �It�s like the force that keeps us from hexing each other,� he said. �We
don�t stop it. We live with it.�

�� Potter gave
him a withering stare. �I don�t want to fail my classes because I�m so busy
staring at you all the time.�

�� Then do
something that can substitute for staring,� Draco suggested smoothly. Now to turn the conversation where I want it
to go. �The lore on compatible magic suggests that the magic sometimes
exerts force indirectly on the physical plane, because it can�t exert force
directly on the mental plane.�

�� Potter
snorted like a donkey, so hard that he blew his fringe off his scar. �In English?�

�� It�s
making you stare at me because that�s a form of connection between us,� Draco
said, irritated again. He wished that Potter and Granger could have exchanged
brains. On the other hand, that would mean that Potter would spout a lot of
meaningless Muggle blather, so perhaps matters were better as they stood. �Find
another form of connection between us, something as powerful, and the impulse
to stare should stop.�

�� Potter
folded his arms so tightly that Draco heard his elbows creak. �But what would
that be?�

�� Tell me
the truth about your fits.� Draco gave him a charming smile. Most of what he
said about compatible magic wasn�t true, but it would give him what he wanted,
and how likely was Potter to go and look the truth up?

�� Potter spun
around as though he suspected that Draco might try to stab him through the
chest. His voice was clipped when he said, �No.�

�� They�re
going to interfere with us in the future.� Draco made his voice as delicate and
reasonable as he could. His hand was twitching to grab his wand and let a curse
fly, but that impulse would do no good if he did give into it. �When we have to
fight and you fall to the floor shaking and screaming.�

�� Potter
glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. He had a sneer on his face, and
that was how Draco found out that he thought the expression unnatural and
disfiguring for someone like Potter. �Why would talking to you about them
change that?�

�� Because,
you idiot,� Draco said, his voice
sparking in spite of himself, �that might give me some clue of what causes them
and how to stop them.�

�� You know
what causes them,� Potter said. �No one can stop them. I�ve tried. Good-bye.�
He marched across the room and flung the door open.

�� Draco
opened his mouth to remind Potter that all he had to do was mention was the
truth of Potter and Weasley�s drunken escapade the other night and the
instructors would take Potter�s cloak away at the very least�

�� And then
Potter fell back in front of the racing ribbons of black and red magic coiling
through the door, and Draco grabbed his wand and charged to his side, glad of a
responsive target for his anger.

*

�� Harry heard
his mother�s scream as a trailing edge of the black magic coiled around his
throat.

�� He felt the
cold fingers of Dementors gripping him as the red ribbons joined the first one.
He heard Voldemort�s laugh, and saw green light cutting the blackness, and felt
the same overwhelming love of life that had consumed him when he realized that
he would have to die to destroy the Horcrux embedded in his scar.

�� The world
around him trembled and vanished. He stood outside the Shrieking Shack and saw
Pettigrew race into the distance, taking the last chance for Sirius�s freedom
with him. He heard Hermione scream as Bellatrix tortured her. He saw his father
grin and turn Snape upside-down, using the charm that would reveal his pants.
Sirius tumbled through the veil, Aunt Petunia shut the door of the cupboard in
his face, Cedric fell to Wormtail�s wand, Remus and Tonks lay motionless in the
Great Hall, Fred hit the ground as a corpse with a dazzling grin. The memories
closed hands around his throat and squeezed.

�� Harry tried
to fight back against them the way he tried to do against a fit, reminding
himself over and over that this wasn�t real, that it had happened before and he
was alive while they were dead and he would wake up�

�� But the memories
squeezed and squeezed, and he screamed in misery and hatred, and then stopped
breathing altogether.

�� Malfoy came
for him.

�� Harry saw
his wand like a streak of light cutting the darkness, a streak of light that
turned over and brightened into a sword. Malfoy�s voice rose in a steady chant,
shaking the memories that crowded in about Harry like dropped stones. His hand
brushed Harry�s shoulder, no more than a glancing touch, but one that made the
clutching hands fall away from his throat. Harry drew in deep, grateful gulps
of air.

�� Then he
surged to his feet, pushing Malfoy away from the ribbons of red and black that
reached for him. Malfoy kept a hand on his shoulder, so that Harry had to
follow, swearing and stumbling all the way. They came together in the middle of
the wall nearest the door, backs to the stone and shoulder to shoulder, both
their wands aimed at the red and black mass in a gesture so natural Harry
almost thought the compatible magic had nothing to do with it.

�� The magic
curled back in on itself, seething. Harry squinted at it, trying to use the
Observation skills that Pushkin had drilled into him, but could make out
nothing solid at the center of it. It looked the way water would if it was
different colors and was able to do what it wanted instead of obey the law of
gravity.

�� It�s like
fire,� Malfoy breathed. �See the way it shifts?�

�� Harry gave
a private, inward roll of his eyes. It seemed that he and Malfoy were doomed
never to see things the same way, no matter how often they fought beside each
other.

�� Yes,� he
said. �And it�s bloody awful when you touch it, like fire.� He shuddered and
gripped his wand tighter.

�� Malfoy gave
him a quick curious glance. �What was it doing to you?�

�� Making me
relive memories.� Harry kept a wary eye on the water-fire as he talked. So far
it wasn�t charging forwards to hurt them, but then, he hadn�t expected it to be
outside Malfoy�s door, either. He should probably expect it to do unexpected
things. �All the people I love who died in the war. And so on.� He wasn�t about
to tell Malfoy anything about his mother�s scream or how terrified he still was
of Dementors. The git would think it was a great idea to dress up like a Dementor
in class, the way he had on the Quidditch field at Hogwarts.

�� That�s
odd,� Malfoy murmured, his voice distant. �It looked like it was choking you to
death, and it shouldn�t have to make you relive memories to do that.�

�� Well,
that�s what it did.� Harry managed to hold back his impatience, even though it
was hard. After all, they needed to know more about what the magic did in order
to defeat it. �How do you suggest we get rid of it?�

*

�� Draco
stared at the black and red ribbons. He wanted to shake his head. He�d seen
tinges of those colors in other curses. The black was in spells meant to induce
despair, the red in curses meant to kill.

�� He�d never
seen this combination before. In fact, he hadn�t known it was possible to
combine them�or necessary. The despair spells traditionally were used when one
wanted a slow death that would look natural from the outside. The red curses
killed quickly and bloodily in order to intimidate.

�� He hadn�t
the least idea of how to go about dissipating them when they were wound
together like that. So far as he could see, every black ribbon turned red
somewhere along its length, and vice versa, and there was no way to disentangle
them.

�� Draco
licked dry lips and told himself to rise to the occasion. They had to do something, or the magic would just
attack when it liked and kill them. And a Malfoy was never helpless in the face
of an enemy the way that this magic wanted to make Draco helpless.

�� Let�s begin with the magic that you would
normally use on despair and blood curses, he decided, lifting his wand. At least it�ll show me conclusively what
happens when I try to treat it like a combination of those spells.

�� Potter,�
he said. �Listen to me. I need you to concentrate as hard as you can on the
spell you�re speaking. We�ll need to cast at the same time, instead of letting
the magic bounce from one to the other of us, because your magic is biased
towards getting rid of Dark Arts and my magic is biased towards combat.�

�� Potter gave
him a narrow glance, as if he was wondering how Draco knew that about his
magic, but didn�t interrupt him to yap nervously about it. He seemed to realize
that the power in front of them was the greater immediate danger, wonder of
wonders. He nodded. �All right. Do you want me to cast Finite, then?�

�� Yes.�
Draco aimed his wand at the left side of the shifting mass, and noticed that
Potter had chosen the right side. He couldn�t help giving him a quick approving
smile. Potter grinned back. Draco wished he could ignore the desperate edge to
it, because being on the receiving edge of a sincere smile like that would have
been agreeable. �I�ll cast a spell that is meant to shred immaterial
things�hostile ghosts, and the like. We need to cast at the same time, though,
or the magic will bounce from one to the other of us like it usually does, and
I don�t think strengthening just one spell will work.�

�� Potter�s
eyes lit up. �If we can cast at the exact same moment, then you think it�ll
strengthen both of us?�

�� Yes, I
do.� Draco reached out and put his hand on Potter�s shoulder, needing the
physical connection to brace himself as he leaned forwards. All right, and perhaps the solidity of
Potter�s body is its own protection. �So far, we haven�t tried to do that,
except when we were aiming the spells at each other.�

�� That�s
true,� Potter said, and grinned even more widely. Then he turned his attention
to the magic, which had moved a little closer to them. His face went grim as he
reached up and anchored himself with an arm around Draco�s shoulders. �The exact same time. Do you want to count,
or should I?�

�� You do
it,� Draco said, because he was more confident about his ability to take cues
from Potter than the other way around. What else had he done during countless
Quidditch games?

�� It was
strange, but no tingle of bitterness went through him at the memory. This was
simply the truth; they were a matched pair challenging a power that wanted to
destroy them, and Draco saw no reason to ignore any aspect of themselves that
would make that match stronger.

�� All
right,� Potter said. His voice wavered for a moment, then stabilized as he
began to count. �One. Two.�

�� Draco
tensed. He could feel lightning racing through his veins, but he didn�t strike,
however badly he wanted to. The red and black magic drifted a little closer,
edged and darting flames reaching for them.

�� Three!� Potter roared.

�� Draco felt
the pull in his muscles as Potter raised his arm, since his hand was resting there.
He responded from the roots of his being, more freely and fully than he had
dared to hope he could.

�� Finite Incantatem!�

�� Spargo imagines!�

�� The spells
whipped out from their wands, expanding in umbrellas of power such as Draco had
never experienced before. Fanning plumes exploded around him, and the magic
drew from his stomach, his heart, his brain, his neck. His muscles snapped
taut, and he let out a soundless gasp, feeling Potter sag against him at the
same moment.

�� His spell
manifested as a throwing star of brilliant purple light, which landed in the
middle of black and red and started turning them different colors. The magic
writhed, screaming.

�� Potter�s
spell launched into it from the side.

�� The red and
black imploded. Draco had a brief, confused vision of blood and bits of black
stone raining down, and then it vanished and he was left staring at a
scrubbed-clean floor and a table that leaned on a charred, smoking leg. He
tensed when he realized that Snape�s Pensieve had slid closer to the edge of
the table and cast a spell that would keep it in one place and upright. Then he
dropped his head forwards and let out a deep, huffing breath, shaking his head.

�� That
was�incredible,� Potter said.

�� Draco
turned and looked at him. Potter was giving him a tired stare and a wearier
smile. His face was scorched and his fingers were still white-knuckled where
they gripped his wand. But his eyes were alight and open, and he reached out a
hand to Draco as though they had always been friends accustomed to clasping
wrists.

�� Draco
couldn�t let the moment pass so casually. He took Potter�s hand and said, in a
tone that he also couldn�t make conciliatory, �I reckon I�m the right sort now,
eh, Potter?�

�� Potter�s
head tilted back, nostrils flaring, easy smile wiped away. He studied Draco
narrowly for so long that Draco became aware of a pulse of uneasiness. He had
expected Potter to storm away or shrug the moment off with a laugh and a grin,
as he would do if it really didn�t mean anything to him.

�� Not this
scrutiny, this stare that seemed to suggest he really did pay attention in Observation, whatever Pushkin thought.

�� Then Potter
gave him a smile that snapped at the edges and squeezed down so hard that Draco
felt as though the bones in his wrist would turn to powder. �Yes,� he said.
�The right sort for fighting with and defeating enemies with.� He looked away
at the space where the red and black magic had been and shook his head. �For
doing incredible deeds with.�

�� Draco
closed his eyes, because if Potter looked at him right now, he would embarrass
himself.

�� That had
been what he wanted. He was jealous of Potter�s friendship with Weasley in
school, yes, but more scornful of it�

�� Except
during those times when Potter defeated the Dark Lord somehow and Weasley was
along. Then Draco experienced sick and unadulterated envy. He wanted to do
great things; it was one of the reasons the Sorting Hat had placed him in
Slytherin. To do them at Potter�s side would add to his prestige and his fame.

�� And now
Potter, whether he knew it or not, had elevated Draco into the place that
Weasley had always occupied.

�� Draco kept
his eyes shut, and after a moment, Potter seemed to decide that he wasn�t going
to respond. He moved away from Draco with a snort. When Draco looked again, he
was kneeling to examine the chars on the table leg, brow furrowed as if he
wanted to know what could have done such damage.

�� Draco let
out a rattling breath. In a moment, he would step forwards and add what he knew
about the colors of the magic to Potter�s knowledge.

�� In a
moment.

�� I couldn�t respond because it was a precious
gift you gave me, he told Potter�s bowed head and hunched shoulders. I need to learn how to handle it, how to
cradle it and protect it the way it should be protected.

�� I need to know how much this changes the
relationship between us. It�s not the friendship I was hoping the compatible
magic would create for us, but it might be better.

�� Draco knew
one thing, and only one thing, for certain: he would fight to preserve this
fragile understanding he shared with Potter.

�� He clung to
that realization until it hardened in his mind like coal being pressed into
diamond.

�� Then he
stepped up to join Potter.

*

�� Lilith:
Thank you! As Draco says, it�s hard to know what�s the compatible magic and
what�s not.

�� polka dot: Sad
maybe, but on the other hand, they have no reason to think that he�s lying,
since he�s talking to his best friends in private.

�� MewMew2:
Thank you!

�� Mr Spears: Glad
you liked it.

�� hieisdragoness18:
The answers to both those questions have to wait for a while.

�� Dragons
Breath: Thank you! Draco, at least, is convinced that he is being just as
Slytherin as Slytherin can be.

�� Yes,
Hermione was distracted by the compatible magic theory, and also by the notion
that she could do something to help Harry. She isn�t necessarily going to think
that it�s something she can�t help.

�� SP777:
Well, Draco and Ron certainly find each other annoying! I suppose what you
think depends on whose perspective you side with.

�� I haven�t
yet decided which Patronus would suit Draco best, which is one of the reasons
that he hasn�t succeeded in doing it yet.

�� You�ll get to
see Dearborn�s reaction when he finds out about the events in this chapter, at least.
After this, the Auror instructors feel some kind of official acknowledgment has
to be made.

�� No, I haven�t
seen the new movie. Usually, the movies don�t satisfy me, so I don�t see them
until much later.
- 7
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- 9
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