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
- 7
- 8
- 9
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: As always, thanks to Sevfan, Jamie and Skeren Dreamera for all your help. Chocolate frogs are on the way! Also, congrats to Anatin123 for being the first person to actually figure out what Narcissa has in mind!

Chapter Eight – All the World Is a Stage

Draco sighed as he shut the cover to his school book, giving up studying since he couldn’t concentrate on the words before him. His mind kept wandering back not only to the conversation he’d had with Potter only that very morning, but back over their many meetings in the nearly eight years they’d been in each other’s acquaintance. He could still see the scared, skinny, rumpled scarecrow from the robe shop before they’d started Hogwarts. The boy who had refused his hand, offered in his first real attempt at friendship outside of the children of his parents’ friends. And the boy who spoke to Draco’s summoned snake before a crowd of scared children, a furious Severus Snape and that idiot Lockhart. The boy who had thrown mud at him in third year and watched as his low-born friend struck him. The boy who had ended up as the youngest Champion of the Triwizard tournament. The boy who’d defied that toad from the Ministry with every fibre of his being. The boy who’d stalked him mercilessly in their sixth year, trying to figure out what Draco was doing, and had nearly killed him, had it not been for Severus’s interference. The boy who’d stolen his wand from his very home, leaving him a defenceless mess with a maniac in said home. The boy who’d saved him from a very painful and horrible death in the Room of Lost Things. And the man who’d saved him and his parents from being sent to Azkaban.

As much as Draco hated Harry Potter, he admired him. He admired the easy mannerisms that won him friends in every House at Hogwarts, except Slytherin. He admired his bravery and loyalty. He admired his compassion and empathy. He admired his prowess on a broom and his natural leadership. He admired his ability to forgive.

Certainly, over the years, the news of what Potter had suffered due to the machinations of the adults around him had leaked out, especially after the war was over, and all of Potter’s supposed friends had been only too happy to sing his praises to the media. And there had been too many of those to sit well with Draco.

‘Has Potter had one friend who wasn’t ready to exploit his fame for their own ends? Weasley and his family have banked on their closeness with our own Saviour. Thomas and Finnigan are respected members of the community now. Brown and that Patil twit were only too happy to tell all they knew to that insufferable Skeeter about the Saviour’s love life while he attended school.’ The blond paused in thought and growled. ‘The only person who hasn’t taken advantage of Potter and his nature is that know-it-all Granger. She’s been his only real friend, sticking by him for everything, even when her stupid boyfriend abandoned him.’ He sighed again. ‘And Longbottom and Loony Lovegood,’ he added mentally.

But, Draco knew that he had an advantage. Potter wanted him. The man who could have anything, anyone, he wanted, desired Draco Malfoy, his most hated rival and complete opposite. ‘Perhaps that Muggle saying is true. Maybe opposites really do attract.’ He smiled indulgently for a few moments before shutting down his features. It would do him no good if anyone caught him grinning like an idiot outside the room where his father was fighting for his life. ‘And Potter certainly is handsome, now that he’s outgrown the scrawny scarecrow that I first met. It would be no hardship on me to allow his attentions, at least on my aesthetics. His dark, softer features would be a great compliment to all of my lighter, sharper features. If only we weren’t likely to try and take each other’s head off every time we meet…’

A sudden thought occurred to the blond and he couldn’t hold back a smirk. ‘Perhaps Mother’s scheming isn’t all that horrible for me. However, I wonder how Potter will handle it? Or my father?’ The smirk died a horrible death as he thought about his seriously ill sire. ‘I wonder if he will ever leave this place, or if he will take up a permanent residence in the Janus Thickey Ward, next to Longbottom’s sad parents…’

“No, I would never leave my father to the ministrations of this hospital after he is well enough to take home,” Draco whispered adamantly. He would take Lucius back to the Manor, where things were familiar and comfortable, and there he would stay until his condition killed him or they found a cure.

With that set firmly in his mind, Draco sat back to hammer out the details of everything. He would, of course, have to consult with his scheming mother to figure out just how far her plans reached and then assist. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t plot a few of his own.

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

The sound of Potter’s roar of anger snapped Draco out of the slight doze he’d drifted into hours ago, he calculated as he looked at his watch. A large boom had the blond out of his chair and racing across the hall to his former rival’s convalescence room.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, what have you been doing since the trials?” “The magical community demands explanations and they deserve an answer!” “Mr. Potter, is it true that your engagement to Ginevra Weasley has been cancelled?” “Is it true that you’ve decided to marry your friend, Hermione Granger?” “Mr. Potter, is it true that you and Mr. Ronald Weasley have a duel to the death scheduled over Miss Granger’s hand in marriage?” “Is it true that you’ve begun dating the remaining Weasley twin to share his grief over the loss of his brother?”

Surrounding Potter’s hospital bed stood ten reporters, shooting off endless questions, quills scratching mercilessly across parchment and cameras flashing every five seconds, filling the room with smoke and more noise. And in the middle of this chaotic ocean of activity sat one very angry Harry Potter with his black hair blowing around his face and his eyes promising a horribly painful death to the invaders. In fact, the amount of power radiating off the man’s body was both terrifying and mouth-watering to the blond. However, he could tell that this would not end well if he didn’t step in.

“You have broken into a sick room, you vultures,” Draco drawled, leveling the reports with his best Malfoy sneer. “I cannot believe the level you would drop to, all to get some bit of gossip. Wouldn’t you be better off asking his supposed friends all these baseless questions?”

“Malfoy,” Potter whispered. As Draco looked up at the other man, he was met by confused, but amused, green eyes.

And when the reporters, as one, turned on the blond, he took out his wand and twirled it lazily in his right hand. “I am well within my rights to alert the Aurors and hospital security of your presence. In fact, I would be well within my rights to destroy your cameras and quills as well.” A few seemed to be brighter than the others and blanched, trying to quickly hide their equipment.

However, not all of them were that smart. “You can’t attack us, you scum! We’re just doing our jobs!” The man who spoke appeared to be Roger Davencourt of the Prophet, the only reporter on the paper’s staff more likely to write untrue trash than Rita Skeeter herself.

Draco leveled his sneer at the small, portly man. “Mr. Davencourt, you are invading Mr. Potter’s privacy and disrupting the entire ward.” He snorted contemptuously. “Besides, I said nothing about attacking you yourself, just your worthless camera and quill, which are still going, I see.”

The man attempted to hide his camera behind his ample back, but Potter snatched it out of his hands and threw it effortlessly to the ground with a satisfying crash. That was the catalyst that put the other reporters into action. Before either young man could make a move or say another word, they’d run from the room, leaving Davencourt to the mercy of the two angry men before him. Draco pointed his wand and the man whimpered pitifully.

“You have five seconds to leave before I decide which bug I will Transfigure you into,” Draco said sweetly. “And I’ll have you know that I was top of the class in Transfiguration.”

The reporter didn’t even wait two seconds before pushing past Draco and running down the hall to the door of the stairs. Both young men grinned at one another before they realized who they shared space with at that moment.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter said uncomfortably, his face going red from embarrassment this time. “I, uh, appreciate it.”

“Think nothing of it, Potter,” Draco said carefully, watching the dark-haired man from the corner of his eyes. “I would have done it for anyone.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Potter scowled before looking directly at Draco’s face, eyes unblinking and a little intimidating. “Why?”

“Why what?” Draco asked evenly.

“Why did you help me? We aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person, unless you’ve been replaced by a pod person?”

“A what?”

“Nothing… It just means that you’re not acting like yourself. Why did you help me?”

Draco smiled a little, congratulating himself on throwing Potter off his guard. “For two very important reasons. One, your yelling woke me up from a very much deserved nap, and I was irritated. And two, no person deserves to be photographed and hounded while they are sick. They’re worse than vultures. They haven’t even waited for you to die before picking over your body, and that’s disgusting.”

Potter snorted. “Interesting image there, I’ll give you that. Thanks again, Malfoy.”

“No problem, Potter. I couldn’t have you leveling the hospital in a fit of rage. My father is, of course, next to your room, and I would prefer he stay alive just yet.”

“Have you found out what happened?”

Draco looked at the other teen, wondering if his interest was genuine. After a few long moments of staring deeply into those very green eyes, Draco nodded. It was. “Travers miscast a Bedazzling Hex. I can only assume that it magnified and put strain on my father’s already weakened body.”

“Have the Healers found a way to help him then?” Again with the sincerity… It was enough to completely intrigue Draco. Not to mention that it actually furthered along his own plans for the Boy Who Lived.

“Mindwillow says that he has to speak to a Curse Breaker to find a way to reverse or disperse the effects.”

Potter closed his eyes, and Draco could almost hear the Gryffindor’s brain thinking. “The only Curse Breaker I know is Bill Weasley,” he said reluctantly. “He, uh, might not be welcome to helping you out there with Lucius, but maybe I can get him to recommend another one that would.”

“Why?” It was his turn to question Potter’s motives.

“Why what?”

“Why would you put yourself out to help my father, who has tried to kill you on a few occasions and even pressured me into revealing who you were so you could be turned over to the Dark Lord? You have every right to wish him to the deepest pits of Hell.” And, truly, Draco understood that, but he wished very much right then that Potter was doing it for a selfish reason.

“Because I like your mother,” Potter answered carefully. “She’s not exactly the nicest or easiest person to get to know, but she warms up after a closer acquaintance.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in amusement, but said nothing.

“Besides, you didn’t, did you? Turn me in, I mean. You could have. I would have understood it, but you didn’t.”

“Is that why you saved me from the Fiendfyre?” Yes, let Potter answer that question!

“Part of the reason was that, yeah, I’ll admit. The other part was that you weren’t evil and didn’t deserve to die like that. Hell, not even Crabbe deserved that, but no one could have saved him. It took everything to get you and Goyle out before we all died.”

Shocked, and a tiny bit humbled, Draco stared at Potter as he tried to get his thoughts in order. ‘This stupid Gryffindor nearly died and he doesn’t even blink an eye. I’d have to cultivate a selfish regard for life in him before any kind of relationship with him could progress.’ He shook his head sadly. “I never thanked you for that. My most sincere thanks for your assistance, even if I was trying to capture you at the time.”

He was surprised by the sudden bark of laughter the other teen let out. It was rich and dark, luxurious and laced with danger. It sent little thrills of desire up and down his spine, and made him realize that maybe, just maybe, that Potter’s attraction was reciprocated.

“You’re welcome, I suppose, Malfoy,” Potter said when he was done laughing. “Tell me if I can help you out with your dad, won’t you?”

“I will keep it in mind, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“What?” Draco raised a pale, delicate eyebrow in question.

“Call me Harry.”

‘Alright, if that’s how the game is to be played,’ the blond thought smugly. “Then, I suppose I can let you call me Draco, Po-Harry.” With a curt wave, he breezed out of the Gryffindor’s hospital room, just as the floor mediwitch came in to fuss over her patient for having a guest in his room so late at night. ‘That went almost as good as if I had planned it…’

Draco froze in tracks, mind racing. ‘Oh, Mother, what in the world have you done?!’

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

Narcissa bit back an uncharacteristically girlish giggle as she pulled out of Roger Davencourt’s mind. She should have thanked Bellatrix for teaching her Legilimency while the bitch had been alive. Perhaps she would have if she hadn’t been such a cruel, sadistic teacher. Nonetheless, her little spy had proven most useful in helping get her plan started, even if she’d make sure he had no idea that he’d done so. Nothing a perfect Memory Charm with a suggestion that he had come up with the idea to break into Potter’s hospital room all by himself couldn't remedy.

‘The Bard did say that ‘All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players’.’ (1) She rubbed her hands together and quickly modified the pyknic man’s memory of all of her involvement, summoning a house elf to escort him off of the Manor property when she was finished. ‘However, I do believe it is time for Act two…’

TBC

Notes: (1) Quote from Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7

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Here But For the Grace of Merlin