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The Rising of the Stones	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13237 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Eight—What Earth Magic is Good For

            “You seem to have taken a good time longer on this case than was called for, Auror Malfoy.”

            de Berenzan had summoned him as though he was any other Ministry lackey and now sat looking through the files in front of him, profile turned to Draco, instead of paying proper attention. Draco knew it was probably meant to make him burst out shouting, and give the Minister a reason to remove him from the case. After all, if Potter’s conclusions were true, de Berenzan would doubtless be happiest if Potter simply vanished, if the Ministry sent Aurors after him but they could be seen to have failed.

            Draco had no intention of fitting in with anyone’s plans but his own. He clasped his hands in front of him and adopted an earnest expression. “I know, and I can come to only one conclusion, Minister. Potter is receiving help from inside the Ministry.”

            de Berenzan choked and swung around. “What? Are you certain?”

            One point to Potter. The sheer desperation on the Minister’s face was greater than if there was simply a possibility someone in the Ministry sympathized with Potter. Draco inclined his head and said, “I’m certain, yes. Potter had some warning that I was coming when I almost caught up with him. And he had so many books in his flat. He’s never been a greatly bookish person, from the memories of his friends. Where did he get them? Where did he get the assistance to disappear right in front of a trained Auror? There had to be someone helping him.”

            “It could be someone outside the Ministry.”

            “But that would mean someone who has access to rare texts and someone who has Auror training, and yet doesn’t work for us.” Draco shook his head soulfully. “I’m afraid the coincidence would be too great, Minister.”

            de Berenzan swung himself to his feet, his eyes narrowed and his leg bouncing for a moment. Then he muttered, “I think I know exactly who it is.”

            Draco let his eyes widen, but showed no other reaction. He had hoped de Berenzan might have a specific target in mind he could chase after, but he hadn’t dared to count on it. “Oh, sir? Who?”

            The Minister gave him a look of loathing that he quickly masked. “Someone in the Unspeakables, Auror Malfoy. It makes sense, doesn’t it? They’re the ones most likely to have access to such books, and such means of covering up one’s tracks. But not your actual department, or they would have fed Potter more details about you and probably not let him get almost caught at all.”

            Draco smiled a little. He wished de Berenzan luck in getting anything out of the Department of Mysteries. “Then I don’t need to concern myself with it, sir?”

            “You need to make sure that nothing interferes with your case.”

            But de Berenzan spoke almost absently, his eyes on the Floo powder that he would probably throw into the fire to call the Department of Mysteries the minute Draco was out of the office. Draco stood, bowed, and backed towards the door. “Of course, Minister.”

            The instant before the door shut, Draco could hear the urgent sound of a Floo call, although to his regret he couldn’t make out the name de Berenzan shouted. It would have been worth a little, to know the person who served as liaison between the Minister and the Department of Mysteries.

            But not worth enough that he needed to lose sleep over it. Draco lengthened his stride. There were other avenues he could pursue, and he would go and ambush one of them right now.

*

            “Now there’s a sight I don’t see at my door every day.”

            Draco bowed a little, holding onto his temper. This particular Weasley wasn’t only a lot richer than the majority of his family, but liable to take a more terrible revenge if Draco provoked him. “I wanted to talk to you about Harry Potter.”

            George Weasley studied him in silence for a moment. Draco kept his eyes politely away from the missing ear and solely on his face. Even after this long, it was still a little shock to see only one face instead of two.

            “Yes, all right,” Weasley said abruptly, and backed away from the front door. Draco made his way through the shuttered shop, keeping a healthy distance from the shelves and racks that bore unexploded pranks. Weasley glanced at him with an evil grin, but mercifully said nothing about Draco’s attitude as he opened the door to the small room at the back. There was nothing in here but a table and chairs.

            Draco still didn’t suffer any temptation to be insolent. The long scars on the walls, as if lightning had struck here, didn’t encourage him to be anything but polite. He sat down on the chair nearest the door and looked at Weasley.

            “I can’t tell you much more than my sister or my brother did,” Weasley said, leaning against the wall instead of sitting and putting his hands in his robe pockets. Draco stifled the temptation to leap to his feet and start checking the chair for traps. “But there’s one thing I know that they don’t.”

            “About Potter?” Draco made his voice calm, confident, comfortable. And didn’t feel under the chair. That was only partially in fear of setting something off.

            “Yes.” Weasley shrugged. He wore his bright hair long enough that it crowded onto his shoulders. “He came to me one time and asked me about soulmates. I think he had that conversation with everyone sooner or later. But what he asked me was specifically what effect a missing soulmate would have on someone’s magic.”

            “A missing soulmate,” Draco repeated. Could Potter’s soulmate be one of those who had died before Potter could find them? But how would he know that? It was rare to actually get confirmation, unless one read the reports sometimes produced by the Ministry about dead wizards that listed their marks.

            “Yes, he seemed to think his was missing.” Weasley shook his head. “But he wouldn’t tell me much more than that. I think he was embarrassed.”

            Yes, because he grew up around Gryffindors who think that you’re always supposed to marry your soulmate and live happily ever after. But Draco held his tongue. He had to admit he was interested to see what Weasley would say next.

            “I told him I had no idea. Then he started asking me about other kinds of magic that could be performed without a wand. I told him about elemental magic, and he borrowed a few books from me and went away.”

            “Borrowed a few books from you?” Draco’s voice wavered up the scale before he could stop himself.

            Weasley laughed openly. “Not the Dark Arts tomes, if that’s what you mean. He bought those on his own.” A second later, Weasley’s laughter faded. “I don’t know what he thought he was doing. But I’m the one who taught him about the elements, and I know he settled on earth magic. I don’t know what he did after that, though.”

            “It never occurred to you to ask?”

            Weasley gave him an odd look. “No.”

            “Why not?” Draco couldn’t say he had a lot of close friends, but he would have asked after them if he did. And Potter had seemed closer to Weasley’s brothers than Draco had been to most people in his life.

            Weasley gave the wall a thoughtful glance. Draco held his tongue, since he thought Weasley was trying to figure out how to phrase something rather than intentionally denying him an answer.

            “Harry…” Weasley said slowly. “He’s one of the most purely good people I’ve met.”

            Draco snorted. In his mind were the Dark Arts books on Potter’s shelves, and the frustrating way he kept his mouth shut, and the way he opposed Draco at every turn just for having allegiances he disapproved of.

            “You might not have had much opportunity to see it.” Weasley looked at Draco with a fund of amusement so great and dark that Draco didn’t recognize it at first; it looked like something more imposing. When he did recognize it, Draco flushed. “But that’s the way Harry is. He talked to me a few times about how he just wanted something for himself, something that wouldn’t belong to anyone else. If he finally found it, why would I question that?”

            “His other friends are worried about him.”

            “I would be, too, if there was any sign that someone had kidnapped him or taken him away against his will. But there was none of that.”

            “You’re not thinking that he could get into trouble because of the combination of Dark and elemental magic he’s practicing?”

            “You seem to have pretty certain knowledge already,” Weasley breathed, meeting and holding Draco’s eyes. “And you don’t sound worried.”

            Draco stood up. He had intended to storm out if Weasley said something insulting, but this Weasley wasn’t like his brothers. He only stood still, poised to reach for his wand or, maybe more likely, launch a prank if Draco did something that bothered him, but he didn’t sound as though he cared all that much.

            Paradoxically, that made Draco want to appeal to him.

            “I have seen Potter,” Draco admitted. “He’s told me a little bit about the kind of magic that he’s practicing, and how he can do it.” He hesitated. “But he hasn’t told me why. Just that his wand stopped working. It’s something to do with his soul-mark. But…I don’t know enough.”

            “Why should you need to know anymore?” Weasley shrugged, although at least there was a hint of emotion in his voice now. “He’s committed enough crimes to make you arrest him. Why do you need to know more than that? They’ll get it out of him in any interrogation you do.”

            “Because I’ve never heard of anything like this before, with soulmates and soul-marks affecting someone’s wand magic.” Draco met Weasley’s eyes, and sighed, and said, “I’m curious.”

            But it seemed that had been the wrong word to utter after all. Weasley stood straighter and gave Draco a smile that seemed kinder only on the surface. “Well, if you’re curious, of course. You ought to have free passage to all of Harry’s secrets because you’re curious.”

            “Weasley—it could mean the difference between Potter running away for the rest of his life and being able to return to a normal kind of life in the wizarding world—”

            “Whatever else I don’t know about Harry,” Weasley said, and cast a spell that funneled dust from the floor up into a wall that steadily and slowly advanced to meet Draco, “I know that he never intended to return to the wizarding world. Any threats you can make aren’t going to change a thing for him.” He moved his wand, and the dust opened into a pair of snapping jaws. “I suggest you leave now, before I start making things difficult for you.”

            Draco stood there quivering for one more moment, but it was true that he couldn’t see a way to make Weasley listen to him. He bowed his head a little and said, “If you ever want to tell me something else, you can owl me. I’ll respond at once.”

            Weasley just made a little gesture with his wand, and the dust-jaws snapped. Draco gave ground before them, until he reached the outer door, where he could walk out without further loss of dignity.

            He had learned—well, something. Not as much as he had hoped, not as much as he had wished to learn after an encounter like this, but something interesting. It was in Weasley’s tone and body language, much as the information the Minister had given him this morning had been.

            Whatever Potter’s secret was, it was one that neither surprised nor dismayed Weasley. He was willing to continue trusting Potter beyond all reason.

            On the other hand…

            That can simply mean that he doesn’t know it, and his trust is utterly blind.

*

            Draco held up the potion flask and turned it back and forth. Rose Sheldon ducked her head, but not fast enough. Draco could make out the naked look of longing in her face.

            Draco lowered the potion and smiled at her.

            “You don’t have to take it, of course,” he said. “I know the Minister would be particularly annoyed about Potter’s birth records disappearing for even a short time. I know you could get sacked. I know you might get in trouble. That’s why I would never insist that you take the potion and get the records for me.”

            “That’s right,” Sheldon breathed, although she sounded as if she was talking to someone else rather than him. “I could be arrested.”

            “I’m pleased that you’ve shown sense and maturity at last.” Draco put the potion flask carefully down beside him. “It’s not what I would expect of someone addicted to the Lucid Dreaming Potion.”

            “I’m not addicted.”

            “Well, then.” Draco spread his hands and stirred a small pile of parchment on his desk as he did so, some of the notes he had taken on Potter’s reading material. “Then you have absolutely no reason to take the potion from me. In fact, I’d probably be better off pouring it down the sink in the bathroom down the corridor.”

            “That’s right.”

            Sheldon’s voice lacked conviction, but she kept her back turned to him and her hands clasped around each other. Maybe that would be enough to keep her from reaching for the potion as he took it out, Draco thought. He stood up.

            He had walked all the way to the door of the office before Sheldon flung out her hand to stay him. Hiding his smile, Draco turned back and bowed his head. “Yes?” he asked. “Did you have something to say about its fate after all?”

            “I don’t like you,” said Sheldon, and her eyes shone with pale passion at him for a second before they focused on the potion flask he was carrying.

            “I can understand why,” Draco said softly. He was a mirror of all her flaws and faults, and Draco didn’t think he would take well himself to seeing them so mercilessly laid out.

            Sheldon glared at him for a second. Her eyes went right back to the potion, and she lost whatever she had been about to say after that. She shook her head and held out her hand.

            Draco walked solemnly over and gave her the flask. Sheldon took the cork out and sniffed it, although Draco had never thought it had a particular scent. Maybe it was one of those things that addicts could sense more easily than other people.

            Sheldon’s eyes fluttered, and she looked at Draco with such a guilty expression that he bit his lip. She would walk out of his office and anyone who looked at her would know instantly that she was up to something.

            On the other hand, he’d once again met her in the evening, after most of the Ministry lackeys had gone home. And she had managed to get the files for him in the past, no matter how she did it. Draco would rely on her for it again.

            “It’ll take me an hour,” Sheldon whispered.

            Draco had expected to hear that it would take days. “I’ve got reports to work on,” he responded, and picked up the first one, although it was one of those that really only needed his signature. Still, that didn’t matter. He would do whatever was necessary to work with her.

            Sheldon glanced once at his face, then away. She whispered, “I’ll be back with the file,” and glided out. Draco saw her hand trembling on the flask. She must have tried to quit again, and be going through withdrawal.

            Come to think of it, that probably explained her willingness to get the file for him. She must be afraid that he would take the potion away if she hesitated.

            Draco thought of chasing her and explaining how badly he wanted to read the file, but only for a moment, the way he might have thought of a particularly vivid dream. Then he shook his head and turned back to the report, which he did have to finish.

*

            Sheldon finally came back, slapped the file down in front of him, and retreated without a word. Draco didn’t pursue her. He was too busy flipping through the pages inside, which, typical for Ministry birth records, included descriptions of Potter’s parents, descriptions of their parents, and a form that attempted to argue out whether the child in question had any right to claim a pure-blood heritage. Draco had never been less interested in that thing.

            Finally he arrived at the form that he thought would tell him what he wanted to know, the description of the baby at birth. There was a handwritten complaint at the top that stated: Not filed until 10/11/1981, despite the child in question being born on the 31^st of July eighteen months earlier!

            Draco snorted. A certain kind of Ministry employee would always care more about the correct filling-in of forms than the reasons that such forms might not be filed on time.

            Then he looked at the description of Potter’s soul-mark, which should solve some of the more pressing riddles.

            The line was blank.

            Draco stared, then flipped the parchment over in the vain hope that it might be written on the back. He shook his head in bewilderment. Soul-marks were always recorded. The Ministry might squat on the information and do nothing with it nowadays; in the past, they had sometimes participated in arranged marriages by checking to see which soul-marks matched. But they would still write it down.

            What does this mean?

            Draco cast a few spells that ought to tell him whether someone had come in and magically altered the paper or erased any writing here. But no, they hadn’t. The line was simply and utterly blank.

            Draco rose to his feet. He didn’t realize he was trembling until he put out his hand and saw it shaking the pile of parchment. Then he closed his eyes and swallowed several breaths.

            No. This wouldn’t control him. He controlled it.

            And that left him only one option. He would have to hunt Potter down again, using another draining elemental magic ritual if necessary, and this time, imprison him in a cell of his own construction. He would get no answers either trying to question him in one of Potter’s sanctuaries or bringing him back to the Ministry.

            But I am going to solve this. I am going to know.

*

            AnonymousTigress: Well. Now you know.

            ...I’m afraid it might not help, but you know!
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The Rising of the Stones