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Corybantes	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9752 -:- 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
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Eight�Movements
and Revelations

�� Harry
couldn�t allow himself to sit around brooding for long. There were too many
reasons against it, he thought grimly as he began to throw everything he
thought he would need for a private investigation into an Expanding and
Shrinking Sack that he could put into a pocket.

�� First,
Kingsley would tell Ron and Hermione that he had sacked Harry soon, and they would
come over and try to act upset for him�while really watching over him to make
sure that he took one of those precious �holidays� they made so much noise
about. Harry might not have the chance to resume the investigation of
Corybantes at all if he didn�t do it soon.

�� Second, Malfoy
would hear about the change in Aurors and bar the club to Harry. No matter what
his obsession with Harry might be, he wouldn�t feel it as strongly without
Harry right there in front of him to remind him about it. No, he would work
with the other Auror, who would be someone more rule-bound and less discreet.
God knew how someone else�s blundering might upset Keatson�s
murderer. Perhaps he would be threatened by it as he hadn�t been by the way
that Harry chose to look into things.

�� And third,
if Harry slowed down too much, for too long, he would start to think there was
some truth in what Kingsley was saying.

�� Harry took
a deep breath and clenched his hand into a fist. He knew he had promised
Kingsley and his friends to take a holiday sometime in the future, but couldn�t
they see that it was ridiculous to ask him to do that in the middle of a case? He
had to solve this first, to see Keatson�s murderer tucked away comfortably in a Ministry
holding cell or find incontrovertible evidence of suicide.

�� He had to. It was what he was made for,
born for.

�� Harry knew,
even as the words ran through his head, how other people would see them. They
would look at him with pity and tell him that he was as obsessed as Malfoy,
just with different things. They would smile at him and try to escort him to
St. Mungo�s, the place where Malfoy and maybe Keatson�s
murderer ought to go.

�� But Harry
had a job to finish. No one called anyone else crazy when they worked hard at
their jobs. Like Hermione, for example. She sometimes
spent more time on legal cases than Harry did on investigations. Why didn�t
people think she was mad?

�� Because she�s not you, Harry thought, as
he dropped the pile of Keatson�s drawings into the
sack and pulled it tight. Because she didn�t come through a �damaging�
childhood. She fought in the war the same as I did, but it doesn�t come back to
that for anyone else. They think the war affected me differently than anyone
else. They think I couldn�t deal with the death of my first partner. They think
I�m so fragile.

�� Well, I�m not, and if I manage to solve this
case even though Kingsley�s sacked me, maybe they�ll finally see that.

�� Harry
yanked again on the sack, and finally realized it was shut. He sealed it with the spell, watched it shrink, and then
tucked it into his pocket and turned towards the door.

�� As he did,
the fireplace flared. Harry jerked to a stop with a curse. He was sure he had
remembered to shut the Floo connection, but it seemed that he hadn�t.

�� Mate?� Ron�s voice called. �I know you�re there. We have a
few things to talk to you about.� His voice was filled with the gentleness
Harry dreaded, the gentleness that said he couldn�t be trusted to make up his
own mind or know what was best for him.

�� Harry
ducked silently through his house to the door and took one more look around
from the entrance to make sure that he hadn�t forgotten anything. No. He had
all the potions and the spellbooks he could think of
tucked into the sack already, and he had his wand and a set of robes that weren�t
Auror robes but could pass for it in uncertain light, like the kind that filled
Corybantes most of the time.

�� Shite, he
just needed his wand most of the time. He was a powerful wizard, though most of
the time Kingsley and his friends seemed to want to forget that.

�� Mate?� Ron called again. Then he muttered something to
Hermione, and the next moment, Harry heard the puff of displaced soot that meant Ron had come through the
fireplace and was standing in his drawing room.

�� Harry
pulled open the door and ducked out again. He felt sorry for his friends. He
knew this would cause an argument that would be hard to repair.

�� But he had to do this.

*

�� Harry
leaned against the red brick front of the Veterans� Rehabilitation Center in
Roof Alley and exhaled slowly. He had decided it was time to make a thorough
reconnaissance of Corybantes, so that he would know where all the entrances of
the building were and as many other secrets as he was capable of spotting from
outside.

�� He was not at
all prepared for what he had found.

�� He had
assumed, without even thinking about it, that the entrance from Knockturn Alley
and Roof Alley was the main one. It was the one Malfoy had told him to come to.
Only now did Harry realize that Malfoy had probably done that, at least in
part, to manipulate his perceptions. On other sides of the building, the scene
he encountered could not be more different.

�� The
entrance from Roof Alley resembled a gate into paradise, or at least the kind
of paradise Harry remembered from Aunt Petunia�s pastel depictions of it on the
walls. Stone pillars framed the gate, which was wound with vines and large,
drooping flowers. Visible through the gate itself was
a shimmering, level plain of green grass, dotted with cool, quiet ponds and
scattered trees. The trees all had golden fruit shining through their leaves
like small suns.

�� Harry squinted
at it doubtfully. He didn�t think the gardens could be real; among other
things, Corybantes occupied too small a space to contain all those trees and
pools. And sure enough, when he focused his eyes just right in the way that
Auror training had taught him, the illusion shimmered and vanished.

�� But the
real entrance was still big, and he could see children playing quietly in one
room down the corridor with the door half-open, and half a large, brilliant chamber
with many windows where people with bent limbs and smoking heads�recovering from
curses, Harry thought�circled weights around their heads or moved in synchronized
patterns probably meant as physical therapy.

�� It all
seemed so normal, Harry thought, half-incredulous. So�unthreatening. He knew, from what Leon had said, that
Corybantes provided other services than just sex, but he wouldn�t have thought
this was the same place at all if he didn�t know the location.

�� Which face
was the real one?

�� Well, he
doubted that he could learn that without actually venturing into Corybantes.

�� Harry
reached into his pocket, pulled out the sack, and retrieved one of the waiting
flasks of Polyjuice Potion. Not many people knew he had this, but Adela had
been willing to brew it for him after he fetched some rare ingredients for her.
Now Harry slipped in the hair of a witch who lived in a rural part of France
and whom he�d helped several cases ago, and then drank it down, gagging. It
still tasted horrible, and then he had to remain still as the twitches and
ripples raced through him, altering his face and form into those of the French
witch. The Disillusionment Charm he had cast on himself before he drank the
potion at least prevented people from looking in his direction, however.

�� When he
felt his face settle, Harry dropped the Charm and walked openly towards the
shimmering entrance of Corybantes. He stepped up the first stairs and felt the
softness of grass beneath his feet for a moment before someone moved to greet
him. Harry shook his head in amazement. This was a wondrously complete
illusion.

�� Greetings,
madam,� said the employee who bowed to him, a woman with the head of a
greyhound and long wings spreading from her shoulders. Her mouth seemed to fall
naturally into a smile, and Harry could see why they had chosen her to welcome
newcomers. �I do not think you have been here before. What is your name and
what are you looking for?�

�� Harry�s
voice had a faint French accent to it, but he had expected that and didn�t let
it rattle him. �My name is Marie Perrin,� he whispered, �and my mind, it is
tattered and torn. I am looking for complete
peace and quiet.�

�� The woman
took his arm with a gentle hand and pulled him further into the club. �Of
course, madam,� she said, and her voice had become warm and soothing. Harry
might have relaxed into it, even knowing all he did, if he hadn�t kept his mind
sharply focused on the case. �We can accommodate you. Come,
tell me of your troubles. What have you suffered, and what remedy do you seek?�

�� Harry
launched into his prepared story of a husband dying and a fortune collapsing,
as well as the grief of losing kin in the war with Voldemort, while he looked
carefully around the club. Behind the sumptuous illusions were stone walls,
but, like the walls of Hogwarts, they were softened by tapestries and carvings
that looked ancient. The light of the torches itself seemed soft, more filled
with shadows than Harry thought it should be with the way the sconces were
arranged. They walked on carpet gentler than the imaginary grass had been, and the
woman guided him into a room with pale blue walls and windows that looked out
on still more extensive, if equally enchanted, gardens. Harry felt a pulse of
longing run through him. Yes, a place like this would be the place where he
could relax.

�� He caught
his wandering thoughts and stung himself with the whip of his own scorn. He had
come prepared for the club�s
seductions, and he was still falling into them. That just pointed to the fact
that he should get Malfoy out of trouble and find the murderer as soon as
possible. The longer he spent around Corybantes, the worse he became.

�� My name is
Cecile, Madam Perrin,� the woman said then, bringing Harry�s attention back to
her. �I think we shall be able to fulfill your fantasies quite comfortably.
However, every new client has an interview with the owner of the club first, so
that he can ascertain if he can serve them.� And so he can make sure their fantasies aren�t dangerous, Harry
thought. �Please allow me to fetch him.�

�� Harry gave
a regal nod. �Of course, dear.�

�� In the
meantime,� Cecile said, turning and taking a silver tray from a slot in the
wall where it seemed to simply appear, �please refresh yourself
with a cordial. You look as if you�ve traveled a long way and you could use it.�
She held out a crystalline glass to Harry, filled with a sparkling red drink.

�� Harry took
the drink and smiled at her, but one sniff told him that the cordial contained
a Calming Draught and a mild potion, which Adela Pole called the Babbler�s
Delight, that would make him freely confess everything that crossed his mind.
It was not Veritaserum, since it did not separate truth from lies, but it
lowered the inhibitions in a similar way. Harry sat holding the cordial until
Cecile left the room, then quietly Vanished the drink
and lowered the glass to the table beside him.

�� He frowned,
not sure what to think. So far, he had seen nothing suspicious in this side of
the club, and he suspected that the employees and clients who came here had very little to do with the
darker, wilder side where Keatson had perished. He
wondered how different Malfoy�s behavior would be when he saw him.

�� He soon had
a chance to find out. Malfoy came in with a rapid stride, which made Harry
think for a moment that he was eager to be done with the tiresome old woman
Marie Perrin seemed to be as soon as possible. Then Harry saw his eyes, and the
look of eager curiosity in them, and the dignified way Malfoy leaned down to
grasp his hand and kiss the back of it.

�� He�s interested in his clients, in all of
them, Harry had time to think. He
looks calm and collected and ready to help me�

�� Then Malfoy�s
lips touched his skin, and Harry�s coherent thoughts vanished in the middle of
a storm of ice. He couldn�t seem to stop shivering, and his mind drowned under
the pressure of imagining what else those lips could be doing, how they could
lay him down and ravish him if that was what Malfoy wanted. Harry shut his eyes
and tried to diminish the light sheen of sweat on his brow.

�� Malfoy had
seen it, if the slow way that he released Harry�s hand was any indication. �Madam
Perrin,� he said, in a softer and more cheerful voice than he had ever used to
talk to Harry in his own form. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw that Malfoy
had pulled up one of the other chairs close to his couch and sat in it with his
hands folded and his legs crossed, giving him a slow, serious, thoughtful gaze.
�You have special needs, don�t you? You require more than the simple rooms and
unbroken rest that you told Cecile about.�

�� If I
simply wanted unbroken rest, then I
could go to St. Mungo�s,� Harry said tartly, striving to keep his mind on what
he was doing. He hated the way he had reacted to Malfoy. It was something to be
grateful to the Polyjuice for, though. As a woman, the signs of his arousal
were much less noticeable. He folded his hands in his lap in imitation of
Malfoy and stared steadily at him. �Yes, I want something else.�

�� Will you
share your fantasies with me?� Malfoy�s voice was a gentle, warm invitation. No
doubt he expected �Madam Perrin� to simply break down and babble everything she
had ever desired.

�� Meeting
Malfoy�s eyes and seeing the warm depths of empathy there�this time, his only
desire seemed to be to reach out to another human being�caused a second storm
to overpower Harry. This one was of regret and longing, hitting him as keenly
as sleet. He would never be able to confide in Malfoy the way his clients were
invited to, even if he, miracle of miracles, managed to locate Keatson�s murderer and persuade Malfoy to accompany him to
St. Mungo�s.

�� He couldn�t
do it because it was against his nature. Harry couldn�t let someone�anyone�else that deeply and freely into
his mind. It would mean talking about the things he dreamed of when his mind
was defenseless, hazed with the potions that the Healers had given him to make
him sleep or with exhaustion, and he dreamed exactly as if he was like everyone
else and capable of behaving normally.

�� It wouldn�t
work. He knew that he would watch Malfoy�s interest shrivel up and die if he
confessed his ordinary, petty feelings and wishes. Or, worse, Malfoy would lean
near with that interest and then�

�� Then Harry
would have to trust Malfoy not to betray him, not to mock and laugh at the
stupid little things he wanted. It was like trusting someone to reach into his
chest and put their hands on his beating heart. Sure, they hadn�t squeezed down
and crushed it yet, but they might at
any time in the future.

�� Malfoy
would probably take it as some special personal insult if he knew what Harry
was thinking, but he shouldn�t. There was no one Harry trusted enough to lose
control of himself in front of. Confessing his fantasies were just one more way
of losing control.

�� Madam
Perrin?�

�� Harry
swallowed and brought his eyes back to Malfoy�s. He realized that Malfoy was
watching him with gentle, implacable patience, waiting for some kind of answer, and that Harry should have given one long
since.

�� Except that
he could barely remember the question. Except that the thought of the answers
he had prepared for this disguise faded before the thought of his own urgent
wishes, none of which would ever be gratified. That fact made Harry feel small
and pathetic and infinitely sad, even as he tried to wrestle his mind back into
the need to confront Malfoy head-on.

�� That had
been the problem from the beginning of this case, he thought. He would never
have left some decisions as long as he had were he treating it like any
ordinary case. He would have investigated Keatson�s
effects straight off, and noticed the drawings. He wouldn�t have fixed on
Shadow as the sole suspect, and felt so disconcerted when the �clue� of her
scale turned out to mean nothing. He would have talked to the clients whose
pseudonyms Malfoy had given him, something he still hadn�t done. He would have�

�� Malfoy�s
voice hissed as he spoke something, a word or two words in a spiky language
that Harry didn�t know. The next moment, Harry felt as though someone had
dumped scalding water on him. He sprang to his feet, whipping out his wand.

�� Thick
liquid dripped off him, too heavy and full of odd mixtures of green and brown
and red for scalding water. Harry spluttered and closed his eyes as it slipped
past his face, then looked up at Malfoy.

�� Malfoy was
leaning forwards, his lips parted, and his eyes so wide and dark that Harry
seemed to see a bottomless pit behind them.

�� Harry,� he
breathed.

�� Harry�s
hand flew to his face. Yes, the scar was on his forehead again, and his hair
was wild and tangled. As strange as it seemed, this room apparently had a spell
on it that enabled Malfoy to remove Polyjuice Potion when he wanted to.

�� Malfoy
shook his head twice, as if dazed, then leaned back in his chair and gave Harry
a bright, appraising glance. The bottomless pit had disappeared, at least for
the moment. But he knew better than to think it had vanished altogether. Harry
swallowed painfully. He had come here to talk to Malfoy in disguise so that he
could see how Malfoy behaved when he didn�t know it was Harry. All he had done,
instead, was throw Malfoy back into that obsessive mindset.

�� He had hurt
him again, and that he hadn�t meant to was meaningless.
He�d done it.

�� Malfoy, I�m
sorry,� he started.

�� So you
should be, for sneaking in like that,� Malfoy replied calmly. �Cecile will be
distressed when I tell her that our latest client decided not to take advantage
of all we could offer after all.� He leaned towards Harry as if pulled forwards
by a wire and added, �Did you really believe that Shacklebolt assigning a new
Auror to the case would make any difference to me? I�ve told you why I want
you, and it�s not as an Auror.�

�� Harry could
feel temptation tugging at him like a thick river. He could ask what Malfoy
meant, or deny what he�d said and force him into a more passionate declaration.
Either would mean that Harry became involved in the conversation, thinking once
again of what he desired and deserved
and couldn�t afford to lose.

�� None of
that would help Malfoy. None of it would let him think about Malfoy in the way
that he knew he needed to think after his conversation with Shadow.

�� I didn�t
come here to continue the investigation,� he said. Malfoy arched an eyebrow,
his face and features taking on a subtle brightness that Harry knew he had to
counteract before it could assume a definite form. �I mean, not exclusively,�
he correct himself. �I�ve considered your behavior more closely, and�well, I
think you need the help of the Mind-Healers at St. Mungo�s.�

�� He�d
expected a hysterical denial. Malfoy studied him in silence for a moment, and,
once, took a deep breath as if he�d considered shouting at Harry. Then he
asked, �Why?�

�� Look at
the contrast between your behavior with me and your behavior with any other
client,� Harry said, gesturing between them as if that would let him summon
back the Malfoy who had come in calm and sane and balanced, focused on the
business of the club and what Madam Perrin could add to it. �You change when you�re around me. You become
unbalanced. You think of fulfilling my tiniest whim, and that�s not healthy.
You should care more for yourself and for Corybantes as a business.�

�� I think I
know who has been telling tales,� Malfoy murmured, a thick amusement in the
back of his voice. Harry opened his mouth to defend Shadow, and Malfoy plunged
into the opening as smoothly as a shark into a school of fish. �In reality, I
have been thinking more of myself than of you.�

�� Harry
hesitated, staring at him. Had things changed that much in the day since he�d
last seen Malfoy? It wasn�t impossible, he had to acknowledge. Some of his
cases had evolved that fast. He managed a smile and said in the most encouraging
tone he could use, �Really? What have you been thinking about?�

�� Malfoy rose
to his feet and considered him�from a distance. He didn�t need to stalk closer, Harry thought in irritation. The sense of his
presence pressed against Harry, shoved at him, and would probably have sent him
sprawling if Malfoy had tried a little harder.

�� I�ve
thought about you, and the way I want to fulfill your fantasies,� Malfoy said. �Fulfilling
your fantasies would add to the pleasure for me, Harry. It�s not the only
source of pleasure, because I desperately want to fuck you.� Harry flushed and
tried to ignore the way that it seemed Malfoy�s presence had grown heavier and
hotter still. �But having you trust me means still more.� He folded his arms
and nodded a little, as if he thought that should settle all of Harry�s
questions.

�� But what about Corybantes?� Harry demanded. �You can�t fuck
me night and day and expect it to sustain itself as a business.�

�� A shadow
passed across Malfoy�s face, but the smile that twisted his mouth was rueful,
not bitter. �Leon already talked to me about that,� he said. �He pointed out
the mistakes in the records since Keatson�s death. I
haven�t been paying the kind of attention that I should to Corybantes. I will
in the future, with Leon working at my side for the next few days to keep my focus
where it should be .But when I�m not working on that, I see no reason I shouldn�t
do as I like. You�re the one who thinks a job should occupy your entire life.�
He paused, and his face shifted into a hungry expression Harry could have done
without seeing. �But of course, since you�re on holiday now, that�s not true
for you, either.�

�� I think
you need to be in St. Mungo�s,� Harry said, clawing his way back to a position
from which he could speak to Malfoy as a superior. �Let me help you.�

�� I think
you need to be in my bedroom,� Malfoy said, and gave him another hungry look,
which made Harry�s body tingle and his head ache. He wanted to be desired that way, but it was wrong for it to actually
happen. �But not as a client of Corybantes. That won�t work. I�m not interested
in you accepting my business, not right away. That can come later. I�m
interested in you accepting me second, and yourself
first.�

�� Harry
clenched his fists in frustration. This had all failed, because he wasn�t
clever enough to keep Malfoy from suspecting something.

�� This
should be about you,� he said. �Not me.�

�� I told you
the reason why it was about me,� Malfoy replied calmly, as if he had a point. �And
you�re wrong, as it happens. It should be about both of us.� He paused and
studied Harry, then added, �But it can�t be until you give in and accept your
fantasies.�

�� Harry saw
nothing for it but to walk past him and leave the club. Malfoy let him, only
pivoting in place to watch him go. Harry could feel those eyes between his
shoulder blades like the touch of a warm palm.

�� His mind
filled with images again, and he was tempted to turn around and simply lay all
his fears, all his insecurities, at Malfoy�s feet.

�� Then he
shook his head and continued walking, head down as if he was plodding against a
strong wind. He was feeling weak, and thinking about himself again. There were so many better things to think about.

�� And he
would find a way to fix his mind on them before he returned to Corybantes.

*

�� Paigeey07:
Harry really does feel that way, sadly.

�� Puresilver: I�m sure most people would think that was a
blessing!

�� polka dot: Lots of people would.

�� Alliandre: I hope you liked Cecile in this chapter! Harry
is eventually going to see more of Corybantes in more detail than the dark and
sexy side, though that will take a short time to arrange.

�� And yes,
Harry is obsessed, but the way he sees it, his obsession isn�t hurting anything
in the way that Draco�s obsession is hurting him and Corybantes.

�� Tree802:
Thank you! I do think the clues to the mystery are there, but Harry won�t pick
up on them, so it�s hard for the reader to do so.

�� And Harry
is going to resist becoming a client at the club, but he doesn�t see any reason
he can�t visit it, as long as he�s careful.

�� callistianstar: Then the question
becomes if Draco really needs and wants to be helped, of course.

�� Harry is afraid of his granting a special place
in his life and mind to Draco.

�� whatmaybe: Thank you!
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Corybantes