Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Determined Frame of Mind	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16811 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Warning: this chapter is non-linear. One set of scenes happens in the present time of this chapter (a few days after Chapter 8), the others in the days between.

Chapter Nine—This Plan Might Work

            Harry held the flask in front of his eyes for a long moment, staring. He licked his lips and looked towards the entrance of the Ministry, then back at the flask.

            He knew it was probably the only way he could enter the building undetected. And the brilliant plan Draco had concocted absolutely demanded that he enter the building undetected.

            But none of that could diminish Harry’s discomfort at taking Polyjuice Potion—especially since that had been supposedly been how he entered the building as ‘Albert.’ And this Polyjuice had been brewed by Snape.

            Harry wished he could take some time to think about this, but there was no time. Draco was waiting for him back at the Manor, and on the success or failure of this plan their actions of the next week or so depended.

            Grimly, Harry slugged back the muddy mixture and forced himself to swallow when it would have stuck against the lump of fear and worry in his throat. He stood still as his body structure changed slightly, his center of gravity altered—he staggered as that happened—and his hair grew finer and paler.

            He stepped out of the alley he’d hidden in, making sure to swagger as much as possible. Draco had demonstrated how he should walk in the past few days, too, as part of their planning. Polyjuice Potion could do a lot, from altering the voice to giving the person who took it a mangled body in place of a whole one like the dose Barty Crouch had taken, but it couldn’t perfect unique mannerisms.

            In the guise of Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter entered the Ministry. And as he did, he prayed that Draco had been correct in everything—from his estimation of Scrimgeour to the role Snape was willing to play in this.

*

            “Tell me about your relationship with Scrimgeour.”

            Draco kept his voice calm and soothing, his gestures so smooth that it would be hard for Harry to look at them and mistake one for a blow or a sudden jerk of impatience. He understood the delicate, tingling mood that hung between him and Harry after their literal heart-to-heart in the dining room on instinct, though he had never experienced it before. He knew Harry would still be half-stunned, reeling and looking for any excuse to draw back.

            Draco did not intend to offer him one.

            “Before the curse, you mean?” Harry asked in a musing tone. He was looking out the window of the room that had been Narcissa’s conservatory, where Draco had stood the other day to watch him walking before Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared. He seemingly wanted to watch the garden more than Draco’s face. That was fine. Draco knew he still had the other man’s full attention. “Because now, it’s uncomplicated. I want to kill him.”

            Draco acknowledged that with a small nod. “And you have every right to.” Just that got him a glowing look—not a smile, but a turn of the head to show a face filled with light—and he caught his breath. Then he reminded himself how few people Harry had heard validating his perspective this past year. Just knowing that someone else agreed with him and saw the world as he did must seem like a miracle.

            It was all perfectly understandable. That did not diminish the tenderness that carpeted Draco’s mind with flowers. He shook his head undetectably, so that Harry would not think he had done something wrong, and continued. “But yes, I need to know what your relationship was like before that. I need to know why he would have done this. There are all sorts of reasons, most of them attributable to malice—“

            “But that’s just what I said downstairs,” Harry interrupted, a hint of frustration showing through. “I don’t know why he hates me. I never gave it a thought he might. He’s the Minister; he had more important things to worry about than me.”

            Draco hesitated for a moment. He wondered if now was the right time to explain what Harry evidently still didn’t understand, the fact of his own celebrity. And yet he thought they would continue to be tripped up by it if they ignored it. Besides, Harry might grant him the trust Draco needed to talk about it now.

            “Harry,” he said. Harry blinked to show he was listening. “Have you thought about what it means, for the Minister to be dealing with someone who saved the world?”

            Harry folded his arms across his chest. Classic defensive gesture, Draco thought, with the part of him that had received Mind-Healer training and still thought like one sometimes. “He has a Ministry full of war heroes, since so many of the Aurors ended up taking an active part. He shouldn’t be singling me out—“

            “He always will have to,” said Draco, as gently as he could.

            “He shouldn’t,” Harry said, jutting his jaw, and Draco knew that if he let him get started, he would have an earful of nonsense that it was incredible anyone could believe, but which Harry especially couldn’t afford to.

            “Harry,” he interrupted, and the tone of his voice made Harry pause, then shut his mouth carefully. Draco nodded in approval. Already they were more attuned to each other than they had been, and so it was no longer just Draco interpreting Harry’s gestures in silence and wishing the git could be more perceptive. Their knowledge ran both ways, now.

            “Will you listen to me?” Draco asked. “And believe what I say? Forget for a moment about whether it should be true, or whether it’s ethically right. You’ve had experience within the last year of plenty of people making judgments on the truths you spoke, even though you knew you were right. Will you let me have this moment, free of any prejudgment on your part, to speak?”

            After a long hesitation, Harry tilted his head slightly. The hum of the soul-connection bond between them was suddenly audible.

            “Thank you,” Draco said gently. “Now. There is a difference between the other Aurors and you, Harry. Maybe there shouldn’t be—“ though none of them did half of what you did or took half the risks you took, whatever you may think “—but that’s the way others see it. Including the Minister. Do you understand? You have to deal with the gap they see between you and the rest, whether or not it’s real. People think a great many silly things, and it takes years to change what they believe. It’s simpler just to work around them.”

            “I see what you’re saying.” Harry’s jaw relaxed. He looked down at his hands, and shook his head in wonder. “Where did the gap come from?”

            Draco stifled a sigh. Only Harry.

            And then he thought, Yes. Only Harry. Only Harry could so misunderstand his role in the war and the world he helped to create, and Harry is the only person I would put up with the frustration of this for.

            He leaned forwards and said, “What you did was symbolically powerful. It doesn’t matter if the Dark Lord was actually the greatest danger to the wizarding world or not. What you did was like—like cutting off a dragon’s head after it had ravaged half a dozen villages and devoured several people. They would be so glad to see the evil dead that they would practically crown the knight who did it, in older times. You’re like that knight. And yes, times have changed, and yes, the Ministry isn’t a village, but the wizarding world still regards you that way.”

            Harry blinked, started to open his mouth, closed it again, and said, “Oh. I knew that was what it was like in the first days after I killed him. But I thought that fervor had died down. It’s been nine years, after all.” His voice sounded snappish, as though he couldn’t believe that people were still talking about that old thing.

            Draco concealed a laugh that even he wasn’t sure would be joyous; it might have verged on hysterical instead. It was good to see that Harry wasn’t completely unobservant. “It’s not a small thing, Harry.”

            “But I just killed him!” Harry threw up his hands. “Harder things than killing happen every day. You’d think—“ And then he closed his eyes and shook his head, sharply, several times. Watching in fascination, Draco thought he was seeing the way Harry had used to soothe his frustrations in the old days before the curse, when he hadn’t been pressed flat by them and harried every single moment.

            It’s a good, common-sense way. God knows that he couldn’t have talked it over with those friends of his and got any answers that mattered.

            Draco carefully banished his jealousy from his mind. He was not looking forwards to the moment when Harry met with his friends again, whether the curse had been broken or not, but hopefully by then Harry would be so firmly his that Granger and the Weasleys wouldn’t automatically sweep Harry away with them when they descended like a flock of vultures.

            “All right,” said Harry, opening his eyes. “If people still think like that, even though they shouldn’t, then I suppose I can understand the way Scrimgeour reacted to me better. He did sneer, and when I got scut-work, I knew it came from him. Investigating boring or meaningless cases, or difficult ones that kept me far from the front page of the Daily Prophet—well, those last I didn’t mind so much, but I knew he meant me to. I met him coming out of the Head’s Office more than I should, since he’s Minister and should have more important things to attend to.” Harry’s voice said what he thought of the man pursuing a sustained feud with him instead. “He’d always sneer at me, and then look away and try to hide a grin. He planted my assignments.

            “And there were rumors, too, around the Ministry. About the latest fight I’d had with Ginny, or a time when I supposedly bragged to the papers about my prowess with a wand. I suppose he might have cast monitoring spells on my office and Ron’s—I wouldn’t really put it past him, not now.” Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands. “But I still can’t say what could have caused sustained hatred of the kind that was behind the Cassandra Curse.”

            Feeling he could indulge himself more now, Draco reached out and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the slight shiver that went through Harry, or the way he shifted closer and bowed his head slightly, as though he wanted to shelter from a strong wind in Draco’s shadow.

            Draco felt another surge of possessive lust, and scolded himself. You should be thinking of a plan that will begin your revenge on Scrimgeour, not thinking about how his earlobes will taste.

            And just like that, the beginnings of a plan unfolded in his head. Obviously, admiring Harry shook his brain into action. Draco leaned forwards, deliberately putting more pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and then took up Harry’s hand and kissed the center of his palm again.

            The moment in the dining room was past, so the exact same connection didn’t happen again, but Harry gasped, and his hand flexed weakly in Draco’s grip. Draco concealed a grin. Another weak spot, then, though I don’t think it’s as potent as his scalp.

            “I have a plan,” he whispered. “But it’ll require you to really trust me, since I’ll need to talk to someone who has the necessary materials and who’s never had any reason to love you.”

            “Whatever you think is best,” said Harry, his eyes fluttering open slowly. He looked at Draco with what was either adoration or an acceptable substitute.

            Draco chuckled silently, and then said, “So it’s all right with you if we involve Snape?”

*

            Harry strode through the Ministry as if he owned it, as Draco had told him he should. He waited boredly for lifts, now and then casting a Tempus charm to show that this was taking his valuable time, as Draco had told him he should. He had Draco’s wand. He had Draco’s manner of leaning on a lift or a wall, and he had Draco’s cool stare when a wizard in a magenta robe, apparently under the impression that he worked for the Ministry, tried to order him to stop and take dictation.

            That wizard stumbled backwards, squinting and then staring, babbling all the while, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Malfoy, didn’t recognize you at first—“ He waved his parchment as though in feeble defense, to show it had absorbed him completely, and then turned and fled.

            Harry stared after him for a moment, but made sure it wasn’t too long before he lifted his chin in a haughty manner and proceeded down the corridor. It had worked, just as Draco had said it would.

            “Half of it’s mood, Harry,” he’d said. “Of course, having an important purpose helps, but if you act like you have one, then most people will leave you alone. Combine that with my dashing reputation, and—“ He shrugged, as though the answer should be self-evident.

            Harry shook his head slightly as he reached the outer edges of the Auror domain. It was interesting acting like Draco, but he wouldn’t want to live like this. With Draco’s chin so far in the air, how did he even see other people?

            He knocked on a few doors as if he didn’t know exactly where he was going—to betray too intimate a knowledge of the Ministry would be a giveaway, something he’d thought of on his own—though he silently cast the Tempus charm a number of times, to make sure he still had half-an-hour before the Polyjuice ran out. At last he stopped next to one desk, made a great show of reading the name on the wall, and asked, “Lila Ambernight?”

            A great pair of distrustful dark eyes looked up at him. At least she didn’t seem to recognize him immediately, which Harry supposed could be counted as a success.

            But a small one.

*

            Draco rather enjoyed the expression on Severus’s face. This was the wildest story he had ever told his mentor, and yet Severus would know that he was unlikely to create such a tale as a joke. That left him to assume it was reality, and then to deal with Draco’s request.

            Severus closed his eyes. Draco was on his knees, head in the fireplace that connected Malfoy Manor with the other wizard’s home—a place so secret that not even Draco knew its proper name, thus giving him no way to Floo or Apparate there. The most he knew was that it wasn’t in Britain, given the constant sunshine through the wide windows behind Severus. He’d had to arrange Floo contact by sending an owl, and it was always at least a day before Severus condescended to open the connection.

            Then, of course, Draco was the one who had to kneel on the floor and put his head into the flames. Severus said he was too old for some things, and making a fool of himself just to talk to other people was one of them.

            Draco remained silent, patient and enjoying the game for its own sake. It had taken him a long time to forgive Severus, both because he had saved Draco’s life but done nothing else for the Malfoy family during the war, and because he’d vanished from the country before the trials of “Death Eaters,” by reputation and Mark or not, could properly begin. So he gave no testimony for Lucius, and he did not help Narcissa stay in the Manor, and the younger Draco had considered those tantamount to treason, especially since he’d learned that Severus had never really worked for the Dark Lord at all.

            But Severus had contacted him again, and endured the yelling, and given Draco a few experimental potions with the advice that he send him an owl when he could properly analyze and duplicate them, and that had been that. Draco had little enough intellectual companionship as it was, since most of the Healers considered him deviant at best and a punisher of the sick at worst, and many others held him in contempt simply for inventing Psyche-Diving. Potions wasn’t his passion as it had been for a few short years during school, but he could still discuss it with pleasure.

            “Let me make sure I understand,” Severus said, rubbing his face again, with a finely tuned sarcasm in his voice that caused Draco to grin. “You claim that Harry Potter is under the Cassandra Curse, which means that everyone but you hears his truths as lies, and takes a violent dislike to him besides.”

            “Correct.”

            “And you managed to free yourself from the burden of the curse, and make yourself his one connection with the outside world, by—“

            “By slicing off part of my soul and attaching it to his,” Draco supplied calmly. “Yes. It flew into his core, and by now it should be indistinguishable from the rest of him, though such a gift is powerful enough to still connect both giver and recipient. I would never have done it for anyone else, even if they asked it of me,” he added, seeing the shadows that were gathering in the back of Severus’s eyes.

            “I certainly hope not,” Severus said. “The thought of Miss Parkinson or your father with a piece of your soul disturbs me more than I can say.” He shuddered and stared off into the distance, an expression that Draco had seen more and more often in the past few years on his face. He guessed that Severus finally had time to look into his past, which he hadn’t when busy with his duties at Hogwarts and in the Dark Lord’s service, and often didn’t like what he saw there. “Though there was someone I would have done that for, once,” he said quietly.

            Draco didn’t ask. It was enough that Severus knew his person for whom he would make such sacrifices. “Do you believe me?”

            “If you had chosen to lie to me about anything, it would not have been this,” Severus admitted, and leaned back in the carved chair he usually took for these conferences. “So. What do you want from me?”

            “I know that you usually keep Polyjuice Potion about,” said Draco. “We don’t have time to wait a month, but we need some that you’ve made and yet not dropped hair into. Harry will be going into the Ministry disguised as me.”

            Severus’s lip curled. “I suppose it has not occurred to you that your reputation could be permanently tainted by what Potter does when in your skin?”

            Draco was startled into a laugh. “I don’t work for St. Mungo’s anymore, Severus. And the Ministry isn’t foolish enough to consider me completely trustworthy.”

            “You have not yet told me who is responsible for Potter’s condition,” Severus said mildly.

            Draco cocked his head. “I was trying to protect you.”

            “Of course you were not,” Severus said. “That is my price for the potion.”

            Draco nodded. It was risky, and this wasn’t something that Harry had authorized him to tell Severus. On the other hand, Harry had agreed to trust him absolutely, so… “It was the Minister,” he said.

            Severus appeared genuinely startled. “Scrimgeour?”

            Draco nodded again.

            Severus narrowed his eyes further, and then said, “It appears that Britain has been…most interesting in the years since I left. I wonder sometimes if I should return for a visit.”

            Draco offered a small shrug. Severus sometimes mused like this, but so far he had never come, and Draco had given up hope of a visit in the near future.

            Muttering, Severus stood and wandered out of the room. Draco waited patiently, only shifting now and then when his knees complained beyond endurance.

            Severus came back with a flask of Polyjuice soon enough, the muddy color it tended to look when the hair hadn’t been added yet. Draco extended his hand through the fire for it, but Severus held still, frowning, and gazed into his eyes. Draco met his gaze with some amusement. He knew that Severus was an excellent Occlumens, but he was the better Legilimens due to the nature of his profession.

            Besides, if Severus was looking for what Draco suspected he was, he wouldn’t find any answer in Draco’s eyes anyway. There always had been certain truths that Severus was ill-fitted to acknowledge. What Draco shared with Harry was probably one of them.

            “Do not get yourself killed,” Severus said, as he at last extended the potion. “I would be most displeased if I lost the only one of my students who both knows my current location and has kept up his studies.”

            Draco nodded, knowing it was the only expression of concern that Severus would permit himself, and shut the Floo connection. That had been easier than he expected. At least Severus hadn’t spent a great deal of time yelling about what a waste of breath Harry was and how Draco should have better things to do than associate with him.

            Draco paused.

            Well.

            Perhaps he did see what he needed to, after all.

*

            “What do you want?” Lila was trying to pretend she wasn’t staring at him, but Harry had known her too long. She darted constant small glances at him even though she’d written ten lines on the parchment in front of her in the last minute.

            “I know where Harry Potter is.”

            Her hand froze, and then her head jerked up, and she stared at him. Harry licked his lips, then reminded himself that wasn’t something Draco Malfoy would do.

            But that didn’t matter. Draco’s plan relied mainly on getting her attention until Harry had a chance to force her out of the Ministry. Since he was still under the curse for everyone but Draco, she heard the statement as a lie. But she would still wonder what he meant by that, and why he was talking to her.

            “What do you mean?” she whispered harshly, eyes on him.

            Harry raised his eyebrows, grateful that the Polyjuice would make it look like Draco’s own cool gesture instead of his clumsy one. “I see I was wrong about you,” he said. “I thought you could be trusted, even though I can’t trust your superiors, because of your hostility to Dark magic. And this is certainly a tale involving Dark magic they haven’t hesitated to perform. But I can live with being wrong.” He shrugged and started to turn.

            Lila’s wand struck him in the middle of the back. Harry hissed in sharply, and then forced himself to control both his breathing and his reactions. This was supposed to happen. He could trust Draco. He wasn’t alone and fighting for his life anymore, with no one in the entire world to care for his fate.

            “You will tell me what you mean,” Lila said into his ear, her breath so soft it hardly brushed his skin.

            “Come with me if you want to know,” Harry breathed, which was a hard statement to construe as entirely untruthful even with the curse, and then began to walk. Lila had to follow, or risk showing her wand and its position to the rest of the Ministry. She broke into a small trot to keep up.

            Harry thought they would be stopped on every step, but they made it out of the Ministry and back into the alley where he’d originally hidden without anyone so much as glancing at them. He was sure that Draco Malfoy’s presence in the Ministry would be reported to Umbridge and Scrimgeour, but for the minute, that was not a problem.

            “Tell me,” Lila demanded.

            Harry turned to face her, grasped her wrist just above the wand, and said, “Oh, I intend to,” as his other hand clasped his own wand in his pocket and activated, with a small tap, the Portkey Draco had given him.

            The astonished look on Lila’s face before they melted into the whirl of colors was a delight to see.

*

            Thrnbrooke: Thanks for reviewing!

            Anon: Thanks! I really like writing the desire more than the explicit sex, even, so I do my very best to make it hot. I didn’t know Harry would make that request to keep the bit of Draco’s soul, though.

            As you can see in this chapter, Harry really does not see himself as the rest of the world does, and he tends to act from that estimate—distorted or not—more than he acts from others’ perceptions. The Cassandra Curse complicated the problem, but it didn’t really cause it.

            Myra: Draco is at least as indignant about Scrimgeour as you are. ;)

            Mangacat: Mostly, I chose Scrimgeour because he’d be a powerful enemy, not just because I thought he’d be a good mystery suspect. That’s another reason I chose to reveal it now, before clues got too obvious to hide.

            McAbacus: Hee! Draco can feel compassion or liking for a few others, but he really covets Harry like no one else.
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Determined Frame of Mind