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

Chapter Eight�Blast

�� Harry
couldn�t sleep.

�� He knew
that he should. He had had a much longer and more exciting day than he could
remember for years, and if Malfoy decided that he should see his friends
tomorrow, Harry wanted to be prepared.

�� But his
chest ached with the breaths he drew, and his head spun whenever he tried to
fasten his eyes on something small and innocuous. His body didn�t appear to
agree that he needed sleep, so he finally stood up and moved towards the
fireplace, arranging the wood in it and blowing on it when the flames flared
sullenly.

�� Everything is going to change.

�� That was
the hardest part to think about, Harry thought, while the magic thrummed and
hissed against his skin, playing it like an instrument. He had resigned himself
to a dreary monotony, a life in which the people he killed or the artifacts he
destroyed didn�t vary enough to make things different even for a day. All
things that would have been different enough to be interesting were forbidden
him: contact with other people not on the Wizengamot, learning new spells,
hobbies.

�� How long is it since I played Quidditch?

�� Harry shook
his head. It wouldn�t have been possible for him to think of or ask that
question a short time ago. Malfoy had swept into his life like a devastating
storm and altered the relation of everything to everything else.

�� Thinking
about Malfoy, about the way he had looked when eating and the way he had leaped
into the fire, Harry was astonished to feel a stirring in his groin. Well, it
was true that he had been left aroused and unsatisfied when Malfoy snogged him
the second time, but it had been a long time since he�d had any sexual contact,
and one orgasm ought to have pacified his libido for the evening. Or so he�d
thought.

�� I was probably just too depressed to think
about sex most of the time.

�� Harry sat
down in the chair that faced the fire, unzipped himself, and began slowly to
stroke, letting his mind play like summer lightning over Malfoy�s dazzling
smiles, his excitement and eagerness when he spoke of dominating the world, the
recklessness with which he�d reached out and claimed his prize from the fire.
He had become more like Harry, and Harry was becoming more like him. Maybe that
was why he was so attractive.

�� Think of the way he focused on you as if he
really wanted you and not just what you could do for him�

�� Harry came
with a gasp and a flood of stickiness over his fingers that he felt the need to
use an immediate Cleaning Charm on, so strange had the sensation become. Then
he leaned back in his chair and frowned at the fire.

�� But he doesn�t really want me. He still
wants what I can do for him. He couldn�t perform those rituals alone, and he
probably couldn�t keep control of the wizarding world alone, either. Are you
sure that you aren�t depending on him too much? Are you sure that you won�t
fall in love with him and be left with nothing?

�� Harry
lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. Those thoughts would have paralyzed him a
week ago, and he could imagine how they would make Ron and Hermione react. But
he didn�t think that he minded all that much if Malfoy was only using him while
Harry himself felt something deeper. It wouldn�t be the first time. He had
really believed in his job for the Wizengamot for the first year or two, until
he realized that they saw him only as a weapon with no mind or morals of his
own.

�� He would
take his chances. At least Malfoy offered him a change and the chance to
survive, and it was worth a risk to satisfy his deepest desires.

*

�� Malfoy. A
word.�

�� Of course,
Risidell,� Draco said, turning around and smiling at his sponsor as the older
wizard bustled up behind him. His face was calm and helpful, while in his mind
he mentally prepared a number of defenses, depending on whether Risidell was
about to accuse him of insufficient support or spending too much time with
Potter.

�� Risidell
stood in front of him and glanced over his shoulder. Draco continued to wait
with a patient smile, but he badly wanted to roll his eyes. That�s one way to make them notice what you�re doing, even if you can make sure
that no one is lurking near. At least learn to look from the corners of your
eyes.

�� Rumors
have reached my ears that you have had conflicts with both Madam Gilfleur and Mr.
Kellerston,� Risidell said, facing Draco and still lowering his voice once the
last of the other Wizengamot members had passed through the meeting room�s
doors.

�� I knew
about the conflict with Kellerston,� Draco said, choosing his tactic as he
spoke. He couldn�t be sure of what Gilfleur would have told Risidell, and
therefore, trying to match wits with her in lies wouldn�t be intelligent. He
strolled over and sat down in the chair he had used during deliberations that
day, folding his hands behind his head as he looked up at Risidell. �But
Gilfleur? As far as I knew, we�d been getting along well. She�d given me
advice, and I�d accepted most of it. If she feels badly because I don�t follow
all of it, I�m not sure exactly what she would like me to change.�

�� Risidell�s
mouth crimped. �She reminded me that you are young, and might not understand
all the inner workings of the Wizengamot.�

�� That�s
true,� Draco said, still riding on absolute honesty. �But so far, I haven�t had
any questions. I promise that I�ll ask questions when I have them.� He paused
and shot Risidell another smile. �Unless there�s something I�ve stumbled over
without knowing it. Would you care to tell me about it?�

�� Risidell
studied him for a few minutes. Draco had the feeling that he was used to those
who fell down and begged for mercy, but he saw no reason to do so. He waited,
letting his smile fade in what would look like a natural manner, but never
taking his eyes from Risidell until the man made a sharp noise and turned away
in disgust.

�� This is
the simple truth,� he said. �Gilfleur feels that you are too interested in the
power of the Wizengamot position and not in governing the wizarding world.�

�� Draco held
his laughter back with an effort. Of course that was the closest Gilfleur could
come to accusing him of powerful magic without revealing that she had it
herself. And of course most of the Wizengamot was there for the power or
because it was convenient for someone on the Ministry that they serve, rather
than to become good governors.

�� Gilfleur
was a lesser foe than he had thought her, Draco decided as he answered. �I am
sorry for giving that impression. Of course I am young yet, and not as learned
in wisdom as Madam Gilfleur is. I would like to prove that I�ll learn better in
time and think more seriously of the great duty I�ve taken on. For the moment,
can you blame me for exulting in the new position I�ve taken up?�

�� Risidell
studied him narrowly. Draco smiled back. Given Gilfleur�s tactics and his own,
there was no way that he would admit to knowing what she was truly talking
about, the way that Risidell seemed to expect him to do.

�� I reckon
not,� Risidell said at last, his eyes still dwelling on Draco�s face. �But you
realize that to have complaints made against you in the second week of your
service is not a good thing?�

�� Of
course,� Draco said. �But when the complaints come from my inexperience and
from an individual who has a mindless grudge against Death Eaters, I don�t see
how I could have been expected to simply ensure they didn�t happen.�

�� Kellerston
remains a valuable member of the Wizengamot,� Risidell said, and his voice was
a bit softer, �despite what you call a �mindless grudge.��

�� I�m sure he does, Draco thought. All you need to do is convince him that some
legislation has a relationship�no matter what�to destroying Death Eaters, and
you�ll have a guaranteed vote. He looked vague and apologetic, and gestured
with one arm. �I�m sorry for referring to him that way, but you must understand
how that grudge looks from the inside. He�s had years to collect evidence, and
yet he still seems to think that he can find secrets that the Ministry
didn�t�but he�ll also accuse me, crudely, in front of others, as if he could
intimidate me into surrendering. His mixture of tactics and lack of political
grace make me grieve for him, and perhaps excuse an unintentional sharpness in
my replies.�

�� Risidell
turned away, but not before Draco got a chance to see his clenched fists. He
smiled blandly and stood, following him out the door, wondering if Risidell
would speak to him again.

�� He didn�t,
and Draco bowed to him and went his way without a return bow. He wondered how
detailed the suspicions that Gilfleur had shared with Risidell were. Risidell
was in a better position than she was to track visits to Potter and odd
goings-on within Ragnarok, since he was the one with the key to the wards.

�� I have to be careful. But then, I already
knew that.

�� He was
planning to take Potter to visit his friends today, since he�d already sent
owls to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He suspected his need for caution in
that room would be redoubled.

*

�� Harry
closed his eyes. He wanted to faint, and he had to brace himself against the
wall of the room that Malfoy had taken him into.

�� He could
hear Ron and Hermione�s voices, for the first time in a decade, on the other
side of the door.

�� He didn�t
know how Malfoy had got them to visit the Manor, though he had to agree that it
was the only place in wizarding Britain that they wouldn�t be spied on by the
press. Ron had probably been belligerent about it. Hermione had probably
convinced him to come.

�� Maybe.

�� It came to
Harry, when he thought those things and received no immediate confirmation from
deep in his mind, that it was a long, long
time since he had thought for certain that he really knew or understood his
friends. They could have changed. Their personalities might not be the same, or
their interests, or their lives.

�� Or their
attitude towards him.

�� Harry
suddenly realized that the voices in the other room had stopped. Malfoy had
told him to enter when that happened. Hoping that he was still in enough time
to prevent Ron from attacking Malfoy, Harry opened the door and stepped in.

�� Malfoy had
brought Ron and Hermione to what Harry thought surely had to be one of the
nicest sitting rooms in the Manor, if not the largest. The walls were painted
in some sort of soft yellow color that made Harry feel he was standing outside
in the sun. The windows showed visions of single large trees with arched
branches that were soothing to look at. The walls were lined with bookshelves,
the chairs were large and stuffed and brilliant blue in color, and the
fireplace looked as if it were made of hand-chosen stones, creamy in color. The
only intimidating touch was a large gold-and-crystal clock on the wall. Harry
kept his gaze away from that as he stepped in, trying to look only at his
friends.

�� His pale
friends, who had both surged to their feet and then dropped back in the chairs
as if their legs couldn�t hold them.

�� Harry,� Hermione said, and her voice
sent a painful pulse of familiarity through Harry�s body. At least that much
hadn�t changed. �Oh, my God.�

�� Ron was
trembling. He reached out as if he was going to shake Harry�s hand, or hug him,
or maybe hit him, and then his hand dropped back again. His mouth opened, but
no words came out.

�� In the
silence, Malfoy strolled across the room and wrapped his arm around Harry�s
shoulders. His walk was a strut, his stance so possessive that Harry couldn�t
help glaring at him. Malfoy winked and grinned back, then told Ron and
Hermione, �You have a lot to catch up on, I know. But the time that Harry can
be here is limited, so I would prefer that you not spend half-an-hour limply
staring at him.�

�� Hermione
surged to her feet and ran forwards. Harry hugged her, shutting his eyes when
he felt the firmness of his embrace. That was another thing that hadn�t
changed, and he swallowed several times so that he wouldn�t start sobbing like
a baby.

�� You don�t
have any right to touch him, Malfoy,� Ron said, in a deeper voice than Harry
had known him to use before. When Harry glanced up, though, he had his wand out
and trained on Malfoy, and that wasn�t new at all. �Get away from him.�

�� Malfoy
hesitated, eyes sparking, and Harry thought for certain that he would tell them
about becoming lovers. But in the end, he moved away with a graceful inclination
of his head and an arch glance at Harry that clearly said, I�m doing this for you, not for them.

�� Harry
hugged them both�Ron came up to join Hermione after that�and was unable to
think of anything to say for what felt like a long time but was probably only
five minutes. Hermione kept mumbling into his ear, but too softly for Harry to
make out what she was saying. Ron swore, words that Harry would have been sure
he didn�t know, and then he�d stop, shake his head, and start swearing again.

�� I need to
tell you what�s been happening,� Harry said finally, when he decided that
Malfoy would start clearing his throat if they went on much longer. �I didn�t
move to Australia, and you probably won�t like the story or the end of it, but
you need to know.�

�� Of
course,� Hermione said softly, still holding him. She walked backwards towards
her chair, and Harry had to come along perforce. In the end, though, she let
him go long enough that he could sit on the arm of the chair rather than in her
lap. Her eyes were huge and luminous as she lifted them to his face. �What�oh,
Harry, what happened?�

�� I want to
know the same bloody thing,� Ron said, taking his chair. Then he seemed to
decide that was too far from Harry and Hermione, and dragged the chair across
the carpet towards them with several thumps. �What happened?�

�� Harry
cleared his throat, remembering that he would have to tell them about the
original ritual and his accidental murders of the Aurors as well as everything
else, and began to speak.

*

�� Draco
lounged against the far wall, seemingly paying as much attention to the book he
held as to the conversation between Potter and his friends. He didn�t expect
Potter to forget his presence as it seemed Weasley and Granger had, but he wanted
to hear an honest speech, an honest story, and that was what it sounded as if
he were getting.

�� He was
amazed, as he listened to Potter, how well simple words could wear the guilt
Potter felt. He didn�t use fancy descriptions; he didn�t appear capable, as
Draco was, of making someone feel present at a ritual with speech alone. But he
paused in between his sentences, and frequently lowered his eyes, and moved his
hands back and forth as if playing with invisible rocks, and between that and
the words themselves Draco knew the guilt.

�� Weasley�s
face went white and red alternately as he listened. Granger clung to Potter�s
hand with an expression that said she was dying to interrupt but thought it
wouldn�t be the best course right now. Draco wondered if she sensed, as he did,
that Potter might not ever tell the story again if he was interrupted as he
spoke.

�� Potter
reached the part where he had labored for ten years under the Wizengamot and
replied to their post with excuses. Weasley�s face went red again all the way
to his hairline, and this time he did interrupt.

�� How could
you do that to us, mate?� he whispered, with an expression like a tragedy. �How
could you lie all those years? We
would have helped you. We would have found you some place where you could die
in peace.�

�� Draco
tightened his hands on the book, but decided that speaking up now would be
counterproductive. It said much that all Weasley could think of doing about
Potter�s magic was giving him a peaceful death. And he probably couldn�t read
at all the ambiguous glance Potter cast him. Of course, he wouldn�t know that
his former best friend wanted to survive above all else, that dying with
dignity wasn�t enough.

�� I hope, at least.

�� But Draco
dismissed the thought with a small twist of his head. No, he was confident of
his analysis, that Potter�s greatest desire was survival and therefore he would
not turn his back on it now to walk away with Weasley and Granger. Draco knew
that he couldn�t trust in his own charms to hold Potter when their true
acquaintance was so recent, but desires and wishes that ran that deep were sure
allies.

�� I was
guilty,� Potter said in response to his friend�s question. �I wasn�t sure how
you would respond when you found out that I�d murdered people. I didn�t want
to�to put you in a false position. And I was afraid of what the Wizengamot
might do to you, and to me.� He winced and sighed. �You wouldn�t believe how
many times I�ve asked myself whether this was the right decision, but as time
passed and the lies piled up, it was easier simply to let it go on.�

�� But for so
long?� Granger was looking at Potter with melting eyes, but Draco had seen
people with melting eyes like those before, and they inevitably revealed the
steel behind the glaze when the person was pressed hard enough. �Couldn�t you
have discovered some solution before this?�

�� How?�
Potter asked simply. �I had no one who would support me, and I thought that you
would probably hate me if you ever found out the truth.� He sighed and swiped a
hand through his hair. �And that�s where Malfoy came in. He was the one who
gave me the courage to approach you, and he was the one who set up this meeting.�

�� Draco
lowered his book and stepped forwards as Granger and Weasley pivoted around to
stare at him. �That�s right,� he said smoothly. �I would appreciate it if you
both told me what you think of Potter�s career now, and the fact that he�s
finally ready to emerge from hiding. Disagreeing with his decisions is one
thing, but if you�re going to fight us, then I need to know.�

�� Why would
we fight you?� Weasley was glancing back and forth between the both of them,
alert, as befit someone who worked as an Auror. �Unless you mean to play the
Dark Lord and take over the wizarding world��

�� Potter
jerked too hard at the conclusion of that sentence for even Weasley to miss. As
he turned around and stared with wide eyes, Draco inclined his head and murmured,
�Yes, something like that. Though I resent being compared to a Dark Lord. I
require neither masks nor a stupid name for my followers. In fact, having
people know and fear my face strikes me as a rather good tactic.�

�� Harry?�
Granger�s voice was small and frightened. �You can�t�you realize that you can�t
really agree with this, right?�

�� Potter took
a deep breath. �The Wizengamot is the most powerful political body in the
wizarding world right now, Hermione,� he said, with more calm and more insight
than Draco had expected. �They would try to stop me once they found out I was
planning on breaking free. You can�t fight them through the legal system. They make the laws. And they tried everything
they could to keep me away from you and keep me a depressed prisoner for ten
years. It would be a war no matter what. Malfoy�s price for helping me fight
that war is that I help him gain power. And my magic is only suited for
destruction, unless I manage to make changes that, frankly, may not be
possible. Yes, I think that gaining power of my own and fighting at Malfoy�s
side is the only thing for me to do.�

�� You only
have to tell the truth, and people will help you!� Granger sprang to her feet.
Draco wondered idly if her head ever hurt from the crown of self-righteousness
she wore. �I promise, Harry! When you come forwards and tell the tale, then the
Wizengamot will begin to fall��

�� No, it
won�t,� Draco said quietly. �I agree, if this had happened ten years ago, then
that might be feasible. But now? Why
don�t you tell Potter what his reputation is like in the outside world,
Granger?�

�� Granger
fell silent and glared at him. Potter tilted his head. �Let me guess,� he said,
in a heavy, ironic tone that Draco hadn�t known he was capable of using. �I�m
seen as a coward who ran away and no longer matters. Or at least someone who
isn�t relevant.�

�� I�yeah,
that�s closer to right,� Weasley said quietly, and then avoided Granger�s
astonished gaze. �But Harry�we can help you change your magic. You don�t have
to rely on Malfoy. Fuck, why would you?�

�� Potter
hesitated, and Draco raised his eyebrows as that wandering gaze came to his
face. He hadn�t thought to counter this particular tactic in his own
conversations with Potter earlier, but why should that matter? Either Potter
would choose him or he wouldn�t, and either Draco would be able to change his
mind if Potter chose against him or he wouldn�t.

*

�� Harry
wanted to believe in what Ron was saying. It would have been wonderful to join
with his friends again, one last adventure to solve the biggest problem. He
could imagine working with Hermione, their heads together over books, and Ron
drinking beer with him in a pub and condoling with him on the false attempts.

�� And then
his mind simply slammed into a blank wall, because he couldn�t imagine that he
would get away with working with his best friends for long before the
Wizengamot learned about it.

�� And what
would happen to his friends then?

�� Harry shook
his head slowly. �This isn�t something I would have chosen on my own,� he said,
�but the thing that has the best chance of working. Malfoy is a Wizengamot
member and can meet with me without arousing suspicion, or at least not too
much. Besides, the rituals require two powerful people to perform them, and I
don�t think either of you would qualify.�

�� Harry,�
Hermione whispered. �You could plunge the wizarding world into war again. Think
about that.�

�� It won�t
happen,� Malfoy said, giving her a charming smile. �I promise that I have no
desire to destroy my latest conquest.�

�� Hermione
ignored him so thoroughly that Harry found himself impressed. She wouldn�t take
her eyes from him, and she wouldn�t give up, it seemed, the power to compel by
her gaze alone. �Harry,� she repeated.

�� Harry took
a deep breath. He would have liked to say yes to Hermione and turn his back on
Malfoy.

�� No, you wouldn�t. The Auror you used to be
would, the boy you used to be would,
but not you.

�� Harry
nodded slowly. Yes, he was the one who wanted conquest and power, who wanted
freedom to act without the Wizengamot looking over his shoulder, and the one
who had discovered that he liked giving orders and having Malfoy for a lover.

�� Besides,
even if his friends weren�t aware of it, he could feel the ten years standing
between them like a wall. It would take a lot more for them to recover their
friendship than just one meeting, and even if Ron and Hermione were willing to
pretend that everything was the same, Harry wasn�t.

�� I�m
sorry,� he said. �I�m going to work with Malfoy.�

�� Ron whipped
his wand up. Harry stepped back, not sure what to do. He didn�t want to unleash
his destructive magic on his best friend, but he couldn�t defend himself
otherwise.

�� Malfoy
whispered something, and both Hermione and Ron slumped down, eyes shut and
heads hanging as if they were hypnotized. Harry blinked at him.

�� I thought
that might happen,� Malfoy said calmly. �We should discuss adequate
precautions, whether a geas not to speak of these matters would suffice, or
whether we should modify their memories. I�m willing to follow your
recommendation and even conduct a ritual, if you think that would do less
damage to them.�

�� Harry
swallowed. �All right,� he said. �We�ll be careful.�

��

�� He had made
the decision, and he could feel the last scraps of the person he had once been�Harry
Potter, Auror, friend of Ron and Hermione, hero of the wizarding world�dry up
and blow away like ashes.��

*

�� polka dot: Not
good for the Wizengamot, anyway.

�� thrnbrooke:
Rather difficult to come out as a couple when they would probably be killed for
it!

�� SP777: Keep
in mind this is a darker story than I usually write, though.

�� anonanon:
Thanks for reviewing.
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