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Chapter Forty-Four—Chaos

Draco rose slowly to his feet when Harry had left the kitchen. He opened his mouth to ask Kreacher to clear away the breakfast, but then shook his head and sat down again. No, he was still hungry, and he wouldn’t let Harry’s unreasonableness upset his appetite.

Because that’s what it was, he told himself as he ate another piece of bacon and then placed a generous dollop of marmalade on a piece of toast. He certainly had not said anything that was worthy of instigating an argument. He’d simply explained some of his dreams of the future, and Harry had reacted as though Draco had said he meant to set himself up as the next Dark Lord.

The more he thought about it, the more indignant he became. Harry had acted as though he just couldn’t do the things Draco had asked of him, as though he had some moral objection to them. But what moral objection could there be? He’d spent ten years lying, including lies to his best friends. He knew how to use Slytherin tactics when the situation called for it, as Draco had had plenty of chances to see with the rebellion. He hadn’t held back from terrifying Lucius, with such effectiveness that Draco had only barely refrained from interfering. The only crime he seemed to avoid was violence, and Draco had not demanded that of him.

By the time he stood up from the table, Draco’s temper was rattling the jugs in which Kreacher had brought the milk and orange juice slightly. Harry hadn’t stayed long enough to hear explanations. He’d run up and hidden himself in his room like a child. Draco was sure he would find him there, sulking. He would insist on Harry’s opening the door before he explained. If he really was the only adult in this situation, then he would behave like one and convince Harry to emulate him.

Of course, his righteousness only carried him to the top of the stairs. Then he hesitated, because he had to admit he really didn’t know where Harry would be. The door to his bedroom was open, as Draco could see from peering down the corridor.

That might mean Harry was a bit more mature than Draco had thought he was, so he still went to knock on the open door. No response. Draco spoke his name firmly, having made up his mind that he would not yell, no matter the temptation. No response again.

Draco turned, frowning. The house had numerous other doors on this corridor alone, and he thought there was an attic, as well. He began to take wary steps towards some of the further rooms, hoping Harry had removed all the doxies and cursed artifacts he’d told Draco about a few nights ago.

He probably felt it only because he was primed to expect it. As he passed one door, he sensed Dark magic. He flinched. It was like being dropped into the midst of a field of rotten corpses, swollen and stinking with the summer sun.

He aimed his wand at the door and murmured an unlocking charm. Harry would be stupid to leave the door to that room open.

A small maze of shimmering silvery wards coalesced into being around the door’s handle. Draco stared. He recognized the general outline of the wards, though he had never seen so many, or most of the intricate folds in which they lay. They weren’t the kind typically used to confine a dangerous beast or Dark magical artifact, a disturbing number of which had the power of spreading despair and hatred into the minds of anyone in the same house. These were the kind meant to protect a precious object. From the labyrinth Harry had constructed, Draco would have been tempted to think he was keeping mementoes of his dead parents in there.

Perhaps it’s a memento of Black? He might have wanted to keep it even if it was dangerous, because he might not have anything else. Draco hesitated, his wand poised over the nearest of the wards. If that was the case, he was better off leaving it alone.

But no, he at least had to know what it was. Harry hadn’t mentioned this or described it, and he must have known Draco would be uneasy with any unexpected Dark magic in the house, no matter where it came from. He spoke the first syllables of an incantation that he would use to cut the wards.

“Don’t do that.”

The walls around Draco trembled. His sight of the wards dimmed for a moment, but he doubted anything had actually happened to his eyes. Harry was using another glamour to intimidate Draco out of pursuing this matter further.

Too bad for him it won’t work, Draco thought, and turned around with a smile that he forced himself to make pleasant. “At least that lured you out of hiding,” he said, and tossed his wand and caught it, to show that he wasn’t concerned about needing it for defense. He tipped his head casually at the door. “What’s in there?’

*

Harry locked his teeth and didn’t answer. He couldn’t believe Draco had decided to pry into the room that held the reverse Pensieve. Wouldn’t the complex of wards have convinced any normal person Harry didn’t want to share the secret that lay beyond that door?

Any normal person, maybe. But not Draco.

This is the price you pay for having an extraordinary lover, Harry told himself, setting his feet. Two arguments in one day. “I don’t wish to tell you,” he said coolly. “Rest assured, it’s not alive. It won’t get out and attack you. And it’s not something I would ever use on you, or anyone else.” He smiled, but Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry had to concede that his smile might not be the most convincing expression at the moment. “You have to prepare a potion and say several complicated spells just to use it,” Harry explained. “And then it would only affect the person who went to it with a willing heart.”

Draco shifted his own stance, a quick, irresolute movement that might not have revealed anything to less careful eyes than Harry’s. “You went to it with one,” he said. “Your knowledge of it tells me that.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. Did Draco have magical guilt-sensing powers? “At one time, I did,” he said. “But that temptation has been removed from me forever. I don’t plan to open the door of that room again, since I moved anything remotely valuable out when I made my decision. And I would appreciate your not destroying the wards it took me several hours to cast.” He tried to haul his voice back to friendliness by main force. He really didn’t want to argue with Draco again. He’d come to try and explain more clearly, in fact, exactly why Draco’s assumption that Harry would always do as he was told had rankled him. “Wouldn’t you rather discuss your business prospects and—“

Draco laughed at him, the sneer prominent in his voice if not on his face. “Come, Harry, that’s not even a subtle segue. Couldn’t you do a touch better?”

And Harry lost a hold on his temper he didn’t even realize he’d been keeping.

He took a single step forwards and snarled, “Forgive me for assuming I didn’t have to use such tactics around you, that you wouldn’t grow offended when I spoke honestly, that you wouldn’t mock me for failing to be the clever and talented and poised persona you fell in love with.”

Draco only frowned the way he had downstairs, as if Harry were being very tiresome. Harry didn’t care. This time, he was going to have his full say even if Draco didn’t listen. He couldn’t have stopped the words from coming if he tried.

“I’ve given you the greatest trust I can,” he continued, “told you secrets I wouldn’t have told anyone else, and let you walk into dangerous situations—like the meeting with Lucius—because I thought you could handle yourself. I’ve asked you questions you didn’t answer, but you told me that you didn’t want to answer them or couldn’t, and I accepted them. I’ve let you express condescension towards my friends and even enjoyed some of it, because I was feeling bitter myself. The times I’ve felt hurt, I’ve told myself that, well, of course you didn’t understand, because you’d never been friends with Ron and Hermione. And I accepted your friends even when Parkinson was saying things at the party that I would have thrown anyone else out for saying.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, but the flow of words continued. Harry also didn’t see why he should be compelled to listen to Draco when Draco obviously wasn’t listening to him.

“I wanted some trust from you in return. And you seemed fairly good at giving it. Then you said I had to help you in all the ways you wanted, and when I refused some of them, you couldn’t trust my reasons for doing so. No, the explanations weren’t good enough, so you demanded more. The simple truth of the matter is that I just don’t want to, Draco. Helping you achieve the goals we share is one thing. Helping you expand your business and gain an advantage over your rivals is another. I’m not comfortable with it, especially when I don’t understand the business world like I understand the pure-blood world and don’t know what all the consequences of my actions would be.”

“Harry, you’re being ridiculous—“

“You’re doing it again.”

The walls and floor shook. Draco fell back a step, lifting one hand in front of his face as if he expected to shield it from thrown curses. Harry sucked in his breath hard, then chuckled. “It seems you don’t really trust me not to hurt you with magic, either.”

“I’m not—I was just startled.” Draco dropped his hand and frowned at Harry. “And you did hurt me once.”

“Accidentally,” Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment, “and I made atonement for it. And I didn’t expect to have that thrown in my face.”

“I don’t understand what you want,” Draco said, some bristling, glittering anger sparking in his voice at last. Harry was glad. He had wanted Draco to listen, but even more, he’d wanted him to drop the emotionless mask and actually participate in the argument. “I’m telling the truth. I told you the truth about what I wanted from Metamorphosis. What was I supposed to do? Lie to you, use the Slytherin tactics you just accused me of loving too much to lead into the matter gently?”

“What if I said that I wanted help from Malfoy’s Machineries?” Harry asked. “Machines to help me achieve certain effects in a job, for example? There have been times steel and glass would have worked better for me than a spell, but I had to rely on magic because that’s what I understand.”

“I might not want to make the machines for you,” Draco said, frowning harder. “And I might not have the ability to make them.”

“Exactly.” Harry snarled again when Draco stared at him. “I know you’re not that stupid. You must see the parallel.”

“But I do trust you.” Draco moved a step off to the side, as though he were about to begin a dueling circle. Harry sneered at him and remained where he was. If it came to dueling, he could overpower Draco in a moment. “I trust you to be able to do whatever you set your hand to well, including wooing business contacts for me.”

“And my not wanting to isn’t a good enough reason?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Harry stretched out a hand towards him, but became aware of how weak the gesture would look just in time—it seemed he had to still worry about such things with Draco—and retracted it to his side so he could pretend he was scratching an itch above his ribs. “Why can’t you trust that my assessment of my skills is better than yours?”

Draco blew air through his nose. “Because you’ve made such good assessments of yourself in the past decade,” he muttered.

Harry had to close his eyes again. “I always estimated what I’d need to get a job done accurately,” he said softly. “I developed skills in what spells I could and understood the limits of my magic. I—“

“I discovered you fairly easily,” Draco said. “Of course you knew what you needed to get a job done.”

Harry had forgotten words could hurt so much. Stupid of him, really, he thought. It had only been a few days since Ron and Hermione’s words had wounded him more than any hostile gesture they could have made.

“I don’t see why you would want me to help you with your business, if you think I’m a poor actor,” he said. He chose simple words, because his mind was rather busy at the moment, throwing up walls that would shield the broken Harry from Draco’s view and thus from his ability to cause pain. He hesitated for a moment, then called Brian forwards. He had a certain strain of irreverence that would help in dealing with this situation. He managed to open his eyes and grin Brian’s grin at Draco. “But it’s nice to know that you had reason to distrust me from the beginning, even as you demanded that I have absolute faith in you.”

“You sound like someone else again,” Draco snapped, taking a step forwards instead of sideways this time.

“Do I?” And yes, his voice had deepened into Brian’s. Harry shrugged and grinned more widely. “It seemed appropriate for the situation. This is the aspect of me that you’ve shown you favor and trust most, after all.”

“You promised you wouldn’t do that with me anymore.” Draco had the gall to sound injured.

“Well, you’ve just shown me what you think of my weak, emotional side. You care more about the dent my emotions made in my acting ability than you do about the fact that the connection I felt with you brought us together.” Brian arched an eyebrow. “I would be a fool to keep showing you trust when it would only win me mockery.”

*

Draco was not used to feeling helpless. Even with Harry’s display of unreason in the kitchen, he had not felt this way. He had resigned himself to its taking some hours, but he was sure that, once he found Harry, he would be able to steer him slowly around to the correct point of view.

Only now, staring at Harry, did he realize how little power he would have in any situation where Harry chose to retreat. Harry’s magic was the mightier; Draco could not overpower him with physical or magical force, or even bind him without his consent. And if Harry chose to vanish, Draco would never find him. He had thought that danger past when Harry told him he was in control of all his personas. But if Draco hurt him badly enough, Harry could use that control to disappear more effectively than before. And this time, his desire and love for Draco wouldn’t betray him.

Draco couldn’t control him.

His hands closed into fists. He’d never lacked that assurance in any of his relationships before. His lovers had been in awe of his wealth and good looks. His friends had been closer to his equals, but even they knew he could outmaneuver them and so had to go out of their way to hide their stratagems—which was an admission of and a compliment to his power in and of itself. He had avoided controlling his parents, but he had never lacked the knowledge that he could, though it would have caused pain to them, especially Narcissa, that he didn’t have the stomach to inflict.

In fact, the only being who had ever been able to challenge him by sheer force of presence and will and superior power was the Dark Lord.

Staring at the stubborn, half-grinning face of the man before him, Draco knew he had met another.

The major difference was that Harry would submit to his control, surrender to him and offer his trust, as he had proven last night in the bedroom. But he could reclaim his submission at any time. What was more pertinent, he obviously hadn’t hesitated to do that when he decided Draco didn’t trust him enough for his liking. Draco might think his reasons for doing so silly, but that wouldn’t change or hinder the consequences.

And that, more than the parallel Harry had tried to build between Metamorphosis and Malfoy’s Machineries, or his half-incoherent reactions to the facts Draco spoke, which might be blunt or harsh but were still truths, convinced Draco he had been a fool. He had wielded his power without thinking. He had not believed compromise was necessary. And he had simply dismissed Harry’s asking for trust, whilst demanding Harry’s complete trust in return.

Much more strongly than the time in which he’d cornered an enraged and powerful wizard, Draco could see how stupidly he’d acted. Certainly not the way a wizard who really had power in his hands and grace about using it would act.

He could try to understand Harry’s reasons, couldn’t he? Doing so would cost him nothing but time and a little patience. And Harry might, in the end, explain so Draco could understand, and even reveal what Dark magical artifact lurked behind that locked door.

Draco swallowed and laid his wand down. Harry/Brian watched him with bright eyes which grew more amused. Draco stepped forwards with his hands extended and said softly, “Please don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Brian’s smile faded for the first time. Draco thought it was the tone of his voice and not the words that had really caught his attention.

“Because—because I don’t want you to leave me.” Draco could have laughed or cried with the force of that insight. Harry mattered more to him than having power over the situation did. He would rather sacrifice Harry’s help with Malfoy’s Machineries than sacrifice Harry’s trust. Put that way, it seemed so simple, but it had cost Draco much of his pride to admit it. “Because I don’t want you to think you have to give me a persona instead of your complete self. And because I was being stupid and refusing to trust you. I’m sorry.” He hesitated, running the memories of the past few weeks over in his mind, but he couldn’t think of any major secrets he’d told Harry, the way Harry had told him the story of Metamorphosis’s existence and why he had started the business in the first place. He hadn’t even explained the true depth of his relationship, past or present, with Blaise, opting to enjoy Harry’s jealousy. “I’d like you to know more about me, too,” he finished, and then winced a little at the unpolished sound of his own words.

Brian’s eyes widened, and he turned his head almost completely upside-down as though trying to make sure Draco wasn’t hiding a secret weapon under his hair. Draco opened his mouth to protest that that wasn’t one of Harry’s own gestures, then silenced himself. That could hardly help him carry his point now. Besides, was he absolutely sure that it wasn’t one of Harry’s own gestures? It could be one he’d never seen.

I assumed I knew everything about him. I obviously didn’t. He tried not to look at the locked door. I can wait to know if he doesn’t want to tell me.

“I can accept that,” said Brian, and his voice had modulated back into one closer to Harry’s, tinged with cautious relief. “If you mean it.”

“I do,” Draco said. And then, in case Harry should think he’d given in too easily or surrendered completely, he did nod at the locked door. “Not that I won’t insist on an explanation for this eventually. I won’t let you endanger your life by keeping it locked up here.”

Harry’s hands closed into fists for a moment, then opened again. “I should have known you would find out,” he muttered. “And I should have explained about it before.” He hesitated. “That’s the Pensieve I mentioned the night you—saved me.” His voice sank as if he were embarrassed. “The one that was meant to help me drown my memories of being Harry Potter and awaken as someone else, someone who could continue Metamorphosis.”

“Pensieves don’t do that,” Draco said. He absently rubbed the gooseflesh that had spread up and down his arms.

Harry curled his lip and met Draco’s gaze. “I believe there was an apology for refusing to trust my word.”

Draco snorted. “I’m displaying my trust in you by expressing shock but believing, rather than humoring your mention of the Pensieve whilst continuing to doubt you in the silence of my mind.”

Both Harry’s eyebrows rose. “That explanation’s so convoluted I’ll need to accept it as true,” he said. “And anyway, this one swallows memories instead of capturing them.”

“You created it,” Draco said. He was sure no Pensieves like that were sold within the wizarding world, or he would have discovered one when he was researching to create a machine that could reliably record dreams. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to lose my memories if the pain ever became intolerable,” Harry said, curling his lip further. “Why else would I?”

“Will you get rid of it?”

“Not right now.” Harry crouched as if he were prepared to resume the argument immediately should Draco insist.

Draco swallowed the shout he wanted to give. He had to listen to the words Harry spoke as well as his own suspicions. Harry hadn’t said he would never destroy that corrupted Pensieve; he had said he wouldn’t do it right now. If months passed and he still hadn’t kept his word, then Draco would remind him again. But for now, he could have patience, the same way he’d had when waiting for Harry to confess his secrets. Those secrets would have had less value if he’d simply torn them out of Harry at first. It was a proof of love for Harry to trust him enough to make the confession of his own free will.

And if he would destroy the Pensieve of his own free will, then that would be as sweet as strong wine to Draco. Insisting on having his own way all the time had cost him Harry’s confidence and cost Harry pain. He could compromise, as much as he hated the word. He could wait—and that was something he had more experience in doing.

“All right,” he said.

The way Harry opened his eyes and stared at him, then began to smile, made Draco smile back in sheer delight. Harry hadn’t expected that. Draco liked surprising him. He had thought of doing so with expensive gifts, of the kind Harry had had no family to give him and his friends would never have had the money to buy, but this was even better.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, and paused, studying him thoughtfully. “I’m not trying to say I’m without blame. I did—well, I was incoherent when trying to defend my points in the kitchen, to say the least.” He flushed, and Draco liked the look of it, because it was more the red blotchy look he thought Harry would wear, rather than the perfectly polished flirtatious blush he would have associated with Brian. “I’m sorry for that as well.” He blinked as though someone had suddenly called his name. “And you know, we never did lift the Lover’s Face Curse. I assume that’s something we should do before we venture into public again. Maybe there’s not much chance of meeting Alice Moonstone right now, but you could see her accidentally in the future, and I’d rather not have my lover snatched out from beneath my nose because of my own stupidity.” He raised his eyebrows at Draco.

Draco’s immediate impulse was to argue that they talk about his past instead. He gave a rueful shake of his head. So a suggestion can’t be good if it comes from Harry?

“And why not?”

Harry had reinterpreted the shake of his head in a different way. Draco grinned. “We should lift the curse,” he said. “I was fighting myself back when I seemed to say no.” And then he paused, because a new and brilliant idea had just hit him. He considered it from several different angles, tilted it back and forth looking for flaws the way he would have examined a jewel in a professional shop. Then he nodded briskly.

“I think I’ve just thought of a way to bring your friends back to you,” he announced. “Without humiliating them too badly, even.”

“Draco.”

The tone Harry spoke his name in was very nearly enough to make Draco drop to his knees, and the shine of his eyes made them hard to meet.

He would not give up everything for Harry, any more than Harry would give up everything for him. That would scar and deform them both in the end. But he would give up much, because there was very little he wanted more than this.

Chapter 45.