Chapter Forty-Eight of 'Changing of the Guard'- Penitent

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Forty-Eight—Penitent

Harry patted the bed with one hand, and paused when he realized he couldn’t feel Draco’s warmth anywhere. He sat up, pushing his hair back, and scanned the room with hazy eyes. No, Draco definitely wasn’t there, though Harry probably would have seen that more decisively at first if he’d put his glasses on.

He scooped them up from a nearby table and took a moment to scavenge among the robes at the back of the cupboard. He had never realized how few robes he had for his “Harry” self, compared to the multitude of clothes he could choose among when he wanted to construct a persona, until Draco moved in. Draco had opened the cupboard, looked inside, and then looked back at Harry with only a raised eyebrow. That was eloquent enough. Harry had already made a resolve to buy more, though as yet they’d hardly had the time to venture to Diagon Alley—and he thought he’d want to go disguised in any case. He wanted to concentrate on shopping, not on attacks or hero-worship.

He paused with a faint smile, one hand braced on the cupboard door. When had he last thought of such an ordinary chore with pleasure? Shopping was something he did for the sake of his personas, not himself; he preferred to leave the choice of food to Kreacher, and he had no need to regularly buy furniture, textbooks, cauldrons, or the like. When he did have to venture out to acquire something used by Harry and not the people of Metamorphosis, he did so reluctantly, darting glances in all directions from beneath his glamour. The mere thought of the cracked foundation below the beautiful house of faces and histories he’d built inspired him to doubt and wonder and worry.

Well, no longer, when Draco thinks the foundation the most beautiful part of the house, he decided, and placed his arm in a sleeve. No doubt Draco was below, having breakfast already. He had a greater restlessness than Harry did, a desire to make plans that would achieve immediate results as well as long-term ones. He had been content enough during the last few days when they plotted to take down Grey, but now he would require a new amusement to keep his mind racing.

Once, Harry would have thought such a companion would drive him mad. Now, trying to imagine life without Draco made his mind spin in its own useless circles.

*

Draco sighed and sat back on his heels. He had thought, when he came down the stairs, that he could prepare a breakfast for Harry on his own, simply to watch his eyes brighten. Instead, Kreacher had called his attention anxiously to the fireplace, where someone had been waiting to speak with him—someone Draco hadn’t expected to hear from for a few days at least.

“And you’re sure he’s being honest?” he asked for the seventh time.

Narcissa smiled and sat back on the cushion that faced the hearth on her side, her fingers lightly laced along the folds of her skirt. His mother didn’t often wear gowns unless she was expecting company, but she did look lovely in the sky-blue one she had on today, which brought out the color of her eyes and hair in a way Draco hadn’t seen before, and made even her pale complexion look deeper. “As sure as I can be without putting him under Veritaserum,” she replied. “He confessed the whole ridiculous truth when he came back from Miss Parkinson’s house, you know—that he meant to put you under an enslavement spell and bind you to Alice Moonstone. I asked him how he could think of doing such a thing.”

She shook her head in wonder. “You would have felt sorry for him, Draco, if you could have seen him. He was so broken-down. He’d finally realized that you never really intended to return to him, and that this exercise was more than just a test of his patience.”

Draco made a noncommittal noise. Lucius had not guessed that Draco meant to make him crawl and beg Draco to be his heir again, and he could go on not knowing it. That would make his final groveling all the sweeter.

“I explained to him that you were an adult now, and had been for years, that you could make your own choice in partners as well as the people you wanted to be heir to.” Narcissa looked him fully in the face. “And he listened to me. That’s why I think it’s safe for you to come to the Manor, and to bring Harry with you as well.”

Draco smiled in spite of himself. His mother had never called Harry by his first name before, or at least not without curling her lip. But Narcissa was clever, too, and she had remained enough on his father’s side that she wouldn’t defy him openly whilst Lucius still spoke against Harry. She might demand a reconciliation sooner than Draco would like one; she might also have been fooled by Lucius’s cant.

“Forgive me for not wanting to enter a house with someone who tried to enslave me not long ago,” he said.

“Draco.” Narcissa sighed and leaned forwards. “You are your father’s son. Both of you, so proud and absolute, not remembering how very mixed a thing life is. Your father had to accept the fact that you prefer being with a man to making the very eligible marriage he chose for you. You have to accept that he only slowly changes his mind about anything. The best way to put his back up is to refuse to come into the Manor again. He’ll decide that he was right and that you’re a stubborn child.”

“I want Harry safe,” Draco said bluntly. “I want my freedom. Next to that, I have almost no regard for Father’s feelings.”

Narcissa regarded him so severely for so long that Draco felt himself begin to blush. But he didn’t look away. His mother might make him ashamed; she couldn’t make him think his demands were unreasonable.

“I taught you better than that,” Narcissa said at last. “Lucius might have made you think blood a net of treachery—“

“He was the one who made it so!” Draco leaned away from her. “I certainly never tried to enslave him.”

“He’s still your father,” Narcissa said.

“He disowned me!” Draco tried vainly to lower his voice. He knew he sounded like a squealing child compared to his mother, and from the way she stared at him, she was thinking the same thing. He did take a few minutes to breathe before he tried to speak again. “I think that counts as severing the bonds between father and son.”

Narcissa sighed. “You deliberately exasperated him that far. And now I want you to make peace. Come to the Manor and accept the truce he’s deigned to offer you. I’ve pushed him for the past few days to acknowledge his own folly and admit that you would hardly marry the woman he chose after you found out about the curse he cast. He’s admitted as much as can be reasonably expected without your presence. My work will go to waste if you don’t appear.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Draco scowled at his hands. He hated moments like this most of all. He knew he would agree, because his mother was bloody good at getting her own way, but he didn’t have to like it. “You could have told him the truth: that I value Harry more than all the money I would inherit from him.”

“As he values me more than what he has in all his vaults.” Narcissa shook her head. “Draco, this petulance will not serve. If for no other reason than he may change his mind later and persuade himself you can’t be as angry at him as all that, come home now.”

“If he makes one threatening movement—“

“I’ve explained to him the consequences if he does.”

Draco peered at his mother in amazement. He’d heard that tone of voice before, but mostly directed at him. And he always obeyed, because he couldn’t bear the sighs, glares, and restrictions of small privileges that would result if he didn’t. Narcissa had never raised her voice to violence, but she hardly needed to when she could cut into him with much softer sounds.

As a child, Draco had assumed she never did the same thing to Lucius, both because his parents always presented a united front against him and because Lucius seemed a figure of such formidable power he didn’t think Narcissa could have got away with it. As he grew older, he had known they kept their fights out of his way, but Narcissa still spent more time on his father’s side than not. Why shouldn’t she? She loved him—somewhat, somehow—and she valued most of the same duties, privileges, and attitudes that he did.

Now she had gone against Lucius for his sake, and Draco had an excellent idea of the sacrifice it must have been for her to do so. He bowed his head and muttered, “I can’t promise that Harry will agree.”

“You can’t promise that Harry will agree to what?”

Draco yelped and whirled around, only to see Harry standing in the doorway of the study and regarding him curiously. Then his eyes went past Draco and to the face in the hearth. Draco thought he was probably the only one who knew what the slight flicker in his eyes met, or the cool tone of his voice as he said, “How do you do, Mrs. Malfoy?” He had picked up another persona, one better able to handle the situation than he was.

Narcissa seemed to have noticed the change of expression, at least. She responded in the same restrained manner. “Very well, Mr. Potter. Of course, I would feel better if you could persuade Draco to come for a visit to the Manor soon, and if you would come with him. His father is most anxious to see him and apologize for his conduct.”

Draco shot her a swift, narrow-eyed glance. Narcissa hadn’t said anything about an apology before, and Draco privately thought that Lucius was physically incapable of it. Now she held his gaze serenely and didn’t move.

“I would do that if I thought there was a chance that Lucius Malfoy would ever really change his mind,” Harry said. Draco felt a surge of gratitude that Harry could speak to his mother in a way he would never dare, since Harry could disregard the bonds of blood, and reached up to press his hand. Harry squeezed back without looking away from Narcissa. “Draco’s told me how many years he spent trying to show Lucius he had changed, and how his father ignored anything that didn’t take his fancy. Why should we think it’s different now? We encounter enough frustration and disgust in our daily lives without taking on an extra load when we don’t have to.”

Narcissa grew more and more coiled, and colder, the longer Harry spoke. When she lifted her head at last, Draco shuddered a little at what he saw in the corners of her lips, which were pressed so tightly that they were almost white.

“You have a chance to repair the wound between Draco and his father if you come to the Manor now,” she said. “If you hesitate and stammer from your fear—“

“I’m not afraid of Lucius,” said Harry, with a tilt of his head that managed to convey without words that Lucius should be far more afraid of him.

“Then you lose the chance,” Narcissa continued, paying no attention to this at all. “I can’t say how long this penitent mood he’s been thrown into would last. And he learns from his mistakes. Do you really want to tempt him to strike at you, or try a gambit more subtle than the enslavement spell, because you are proud enough to resist meeting him? At least imagine, Mr. Potter—though I know it is difficult for you, raised as you were outside a proper family—the demise of a loving relationship between a parent and a child.”

Harry was too experienced to let his color change, but Draco felt him flinch. He kept on staring at Narcissa as he asked, “Draco? How far do you trust your father? Enough to go to the Manor?”

Draco gritted his teeth. He would have preferred to say he didn’t trust Lucius at all, but it would have brought a firestorm down on him, in the double form of his mother’s anger and Harry’s guilt. They were going, he thought. Narcissa knew well enough how to play someone like Harry, who had lost both parents and who loved Draco—and thus wanted to ensure his happiness, which he must think a strong relationship with his father would contribute to.

At least Harry had still asked him whether he wanted to go to the Manor, rather than simply reassuring Narcissa they would come.

“If my mother vouches for him, I do.” Draco stared at her.

“I vouch for him,” Narcissa said without backing down. Draco had hoped for at least a hesitation as she considered the multitude of treacherous actions Lucius might try.

“Then we’ll come,” Draco said. His mother’s face softened with a smile that he couldn’t help but feel glad to see, even though he knew it meant he had lost conclusively.

Harry leaned forwards so that he was staring into Narcissa’s eyes through the flames. “I promise,” he said quietly, “if Lucius so much as makes a threatening motion towards Draco, I’ll kill him without hesitation. Tell him that. He might want to leave his wand in another room.”

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, confident in her victory. “Come, Mr. Potter, do you expect me to believe that? You are letting my son venture into this dangerous territory, after all, and if you meant what you said, it would be far easier to keep him at home.”

Harry sneered impressively at her. He had picked up some other persona, one Draco didn’t recognize but thought must be closer to the Slytherin one Draco had frequently worn during Hogwarts. “Unlike you, I have more respect for Draco’s choices than for Lucius’s. He’s choosing to visit you. He won’t choose to be threatened, or enslaved. So, yes, I will kill your husband if he tries to take away Draco’s freedom yet again. Remember how powerful my wandless magic is, Mrs. Malfoy. It might even happen accidentally.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, but nodded, and shut the connection. Draco slung an arm around Harry’s neck, silently grateful that they hadn’t lost completely.

Harry gave him a very faint smile. “You can still change your mind,” he said.

Draco shook his head. “Not now. I’m sure this will be one of the more…interesting meetings I’ve observed in a while.”

*

Harry hadn’t told Draco so when he proclaimed his opinion of the meeting with Lucius, but he intended to make things even more interesting. Namely, the moment Lucius stepped into the large drawing room of the Manor where he had chosen to receive them, Harry gestured at the slight tingle of magic in Lucius’s pocket that announced the presence of his wand and said, “Expelliarmus!”

Lucius’s wand flew towards him immediately. Harry snatched it handily from the air and stuck it in his back pocket. He kept his eyes on Lucius the entire time, and let the faintest trace of a smirk touch his lips. He wanted Lucius to think about the same time Harry was remembering: the time when he had defeated the Dark Lord Lucius had served with a Disarming Spell.

Lucius opened his mouth, then seemed to remember that he had agreed to be polite and neutral during this meeting. He bowed his head and said, “A reasonable precaution, Mr. Potter, though if you could read my thoughts, you would know I have no desire to hurt my son.”

“A pleasant pronouncement,” Harry said, ushering Draco into a chair. The room had two sets of chairs spaced around the hearth and widely separated from each other, an arrangement Harry approved of. Draco was tense with shock when Harry touched him, but he went with the gesture, which showed he wasn’t truly angry. Harry smiled at Lucius over Draco’s head. “But I notice your words do not include me.”

“You weren’t always so sensitive to nuances, I think.” Lucius took the chair opposite Draco, leaning back against the cushions in what seemed to be perfect ease. Narcissa slowly took the seat beside him. Her eyes hadn’t left Harry yet, and he thought she was probably unsure of what to make of him.

“I fell in love.” Harry squeezed Draco’s shoulder briefly, then leaned his arms on the back of his chair. He had no intention of sitting down himself. The chair chosen for him to occupy looked broad and comfortable—hard to stand up from, and even if he leaped up, he would lose a moment to sinking down into the cushion. He preferred to avoid such unpleasant encumbrances. “That gives me something better than Legilimency: the awareness that someone could hurt Draco, and that I could lose him.” He smiled emptily at Lucius. “Or that someone could hurt him by hurting me.”

“This was meant to be a meeting of reconciliation,” Draco interrupted quietly, though his hand rose and squeezed Harry’s elbow to show how much he appreciated it. “I’ll take an apology for that enslavement spell, Father, if you don’t mind.”

Lucius stiffened his shoulders. He had the look of a man who had been granted a stay of his own execution in which to make a speech. And just like every other criminal who should have been repentant and couldn’t bring himself to be so, Harry thought, he was going to fuck it up. “What else could I have done, given what I believe?”

“We’ve had conversations about your beliefs before.” Draco’s voice was so gentle that Harry would hardly have believed it was his, except that it had a chiding tone behind it he knew well. Draco hadn’t had much occasion to sound like this to him, that was all. “I believe there was a period in which they endangered all our lives and the future of our entire family, thanks to your deciding to bow down to someone who called himself a Dark Lord. Or am I misremembering? To be sure, I’ve had so many things to think of since I was seventeen that I might be forgetting the cause of the pain that dominated two years of my life.”

“That was not so essential as this is.” Lucius sounded half-confused. Harry saw Narcissa wind her hands into each other. Just like him, she probably longed to interfere. But Draco had made Harry promise that once he took control of the conversation, Harry would only speak to combat threats or to make Lucius understand exactly why he was there, if the man was fool enough to ask. “You are the one threatening the survival of our family now, Draco.”

“I have hardly threatened to tear down Malfoy Manor, and I cannot believe that the disagreements between you and Mother over what to do with me are so spirited as to rip you apart in divorce,” Draco said primly.

Lucius made a thick noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “You know very well what I mean, Draco! If you stay partnered to Harry Potter, or to any other man, you will never have a child to continue the Malfoy line.”

Draco sighed. Harry allowed one hand to trail up the slope of his shoulder. The sigh seemed to come from a very long distance, and by that alone Harry knew how frustrated Draco was. “I asked you once if we didn’t have any higher purpose than reproducing, Father,” he said, “whether we existed only to have children, who in turn would have children. You don’t put any weight even on rearing the son or daughter you expect me to have, on being a good parent. You only expect me to have one. Pardon me for thinking that Malfoys—if we really are the sum of all existence the way you liked to tell me we are when I was a boy—should do something more fulfilling.”

“You can do that after you have a child.” Lucius was speaking through his teeth now.

“But heirs of Malfoy blood exist.” Draco lifted his nose. “I’ve a good mind to legitimize and adopt one of them. I know the proper laws to do so. And then I could have the satisfaction of having fulfilled my legal duties, whilst at the same time living most of my life the way I want to, since my heir would have other parents to raise him or her.”

There was a perfect, scandalized silence, which Harry enjoyed, though he suspected he would have had to be born a Malfoy to understand the full implications. Then Lucius extended his hands towards Draco in a helpless motion and murmured, “Tell me—please reassure me that you don’t mean to make one of your Cousin Maxwell’s children your heir.”

“Their blood is good,” said Draco with a shrug. “And you should hold him in higher regard than me, since he’s actually done the ultimate Malfoy duty and procreated.”

Lucius shut his eyes and held his breath for a long moment. Then he opened his eyes and said, “Would you consider having a child if I apologize?”

“Who can say what I may decide in the future?” Draco murmured. “For the moment, my life is devoted to running Malfoy’s Machineries, earning equal rights for homosexual wizards, and living in love with Harry. You can’t ask me to determine the whole course of my life in a single conversation.”

This time, Harry had to hide his grin against the back of Draco’s neck. Draco turned and grinned up at him, not bothering to hide his expression. Lucius flinched as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Then he cleared his throat, and Harry saw his hand flex towards Narcissa, who was shaking her head with her lips pursed. At least, if she was displeased with Draco, she was probably equally displeased with Lucius, who was wasting the opportunity she had gone to so much trouble to arrange for him.

“You ask for an apology,” Lucius said harshly. “You ask for me to refrain from attacks against your lover, even to welcome him within my home.” He looked up at Harry with a burning gaze that convinced Harry he had been wise to take Lucius’s wand. “You ask for so much, Draco, and you will not promise me even to continue the Malfoy line, the thing I have always most valued.”

“I ask for you to trust that I am an adult, and responsible for my decisions and my future, not simply the future of the family.” Draco’s voice sharpened as he leaned forwards. “Pushing me, Father, earns nothing but negative results for you. I am constantly astonished that you haven’t yet learned not to do it. And yes, I do expect basic courtesy to Harry. I’m in love with him, and that’s never been true before.”

Lucius stared at his son, and Harry saw the final, decisive shift as it took place behind his eyes.

He still didn’t like Draco’s resolve to act independently of the family; he would probably never really like it, or understand it. And he still blamed most of the problems in his relationship with his son on his son’s lover. But he had come to realize, perhaps with bitterness, that he could not control or influence that independence or that lover. Better to surrender and let Draco become comfortable in his presence again. Then, perhaps, Draco would attend to his suggestions.

And at bottom, Harry thought, Lucius Malfoy was a man who loved his son. Harry had heard as much during the final battle at Hogwarts. He didn’t really want to drive Draco away forever, and if he had to buy his company on terms distasteful to him, he could bear that.

“Very well, Draco,” Lucius said. “It shall be as you say. I will refrain from attacks on Mr. Potter, through Counterstrike or other means. I will welcome him within my home. I will never again use an enslavement spell—and I am sorry that I used one already. I will not urge you to marry and have an heir for five years.”

Draco leaned against the back of the chair and released a tiny sigh. Harry used both hands to rub the nape of his neck.

“Thank you,” Draco said. “I accept your apology.”

After that, the conversation slid back into normality, with Narcissa bestowing an approving smile or two on Harry himself. When the time came they had to leave and Harry handed Lucius’s wand back, he did it with a small, formal bow, and then a single intense look, to signal that he still distrusted Lucius and would guard Draco as long as necessary.

Lucius returned the look. And then, the most unexpected thing happened. His eyes softened, and he murmured, “My son is fortunate to have someone so devoted at his back.”

Even knowing he had probably only said it to throw him off-guard couldn’t prevent the warm glow that sprang up in Harry.

He needed every bit of that glow to bolster himself when they returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and found Ron and Hermione waiting.

Chapter 49.

Comments

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Lucius may have yielded more from practicality than principle, though; he realized he couldn't win.