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lomonaaeren) wrote2008-08-04 09:00 pm
lomonaaeren) wrote2008-08-04 09:00 pm
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Chapter Fifteen of 'Bloody But Unbowed'- Hearing About and Suffering Pain
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Fifteen—Hearing About and Suffering Pain
“Really, Hermione, you don’t need to be so upset.” Harry shifted so that the rough stone at the edge of the hearth wasn’t digging into his tailbone anymore.
“But Harry, you were almost killed.”
Harry cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as he hissed at her to be quiet. They were in one of the upper studies at Grimmauld Place, and Harry had insisted that he contact his friends and tell them what had happened before he returned to Malfoy Manor. Draco and Narcissa had grudgingly agreed, and had even left him time alone to do it in. Harry had felt he owed the whole story to Hermione, especially if she were going to try and find out what was happening through her Ministry connections. But Harry didn’t want to think of what would occur if Draco or Narcissa, or both of them, overheard the details about the spell that had caused him to stop breathing.
“Excuse me for thinking that’s serious,” Hermione said darkly, and then she made a little choked noise. “Harry, you could have died.”
“Yes, I think we’ve established that,” Harry muttered in annoyance, and shifted his position again. Nothing much could make him comfortable, though. He was tired, and his muscles ached from running and sliding down banisters and leaping down stairs. When he felt like this, he knew only a good night’s sleep would cure it. “And the best way to prevent it from happening again is for me to know who those people were.”
Hermione sighed.
Harry leaned forwards. A stray speck of Floo powder blew into his nose, and he sneezed. “You have an idea already, don’t you?”
“Only an idea,” said Hermione, and gave him a stern look as she brushed her hair out of her face. “No more than that. You shouldn’t tell the Malfoys anything about this.”
“What? Why? If I can lead them to Lucius’s enemies, they’ll be better able to guard him against complications from the curse in the future.”
“But one of the ways they’ll try to guard him is by taking revenge,” said Hermione, her voice growing sharper. “I don’t want to see innocent people suffer because the Malfoys leap to conclusions.”
Harry blinked. He hadn’t thought of that, which was one of the problems of spending as much time swaddled among the Malfoys as he had; he lost the perspective that would be clear to someone looking in from outside the family. Perhaps it was best if he kept the information to himself a little longer. “All right. Tell me.”
“At one point, it was traditional for the hospital administrators to wear robes like that,” said Hermione. “The dark blue color represented the night sky, and had silver stars on them in their older incarnations, because several ancient branches of Healing magic grew out of astrology and astronomy. But the custom spread to include other groups. Even the governors of Hogwarts wore dark blue robes at one point.” Hermione pointed at him when he groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I told you it was a vague idea.”
“I already knew I had enemies among the hospital hierarchy,” Harry muttered. “Now what I need to know is what they want from me, why they’re afraid of me.” He looked up then, as repentance stung him. “Sorry, Hermione. You have helped. Or at least confirmed something. Maybe.”
Hermione gave him a tired smile. Harry was reminded of one of Healer Pontiff’s sayings, that hearing about pain could be nearly as bad as suffering from it. It could get him to tolerate some of the stupider things his patients’ relatives did. “Do you know how soon you’ll be able to leave Malfoy Manor?” she asked.
Harry shook his head. “I still lack too much information, and I need to make sure Lucius is cured before I go.” He debated for a moment whether to tell her that he thought newly formed bonds might keep him in the Manor even longer than that, and then decided it would be better to say those things when he had the words for them and could spend a few hours explaining it all in detail. Speaking hurriedly through a fireplace when they both wanted to collapse in bed would be the worst time for it. “Can I speak with Ron?”
Hermione nodded and moved away. Ron put his head into the fireplace and glared at him. Harry blinked. He was unaware that he’d said anything so bad to Hermione.
“Someday,” Ron said darkly, “I am going to hear that you’re dead for real if you keep pulling stupid heroic stunts like revealing dark conspiracies. And on that day, I’ll probably drop dead of shock that it’s happened at last, after all your narrow escapes. Do you want me to drop dead of shock?”
“Trouble trails me, not the other way around!”
Ron’s scowl stayed steady.
“I didn’t ask to have someone cast a curse at me that stopped my lungs,” Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up. Ron’s disapproval was rarer than Hermione’s, because he was more inclined to agree that, most of the time, Harry had been right to risk his life.
“But you could have remained in hospital long enough for Healer Pontiff to check for aftereffects of the curse,” said Ron.
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Because you’re Harry Bloody Potter, Stubborn Mediwizard,” Ron said, “and you treat your own wounds and your own pain as too small to be noticeable. Well, next time, remember that I notice them. And Hermione. And the rest of my family would, too, if they had the slightest notion about how much trouble you still get into. Spare us suffering, and take care of yourself better.”
“You’re using guilt against me?” Harry stared at him.
“It’s the only thing that works,” Ron said inflexibly. “So. I want you to promise me that you won’t take unnecessary risks for the rest of this case.”
“My definition of unnecessary risk and yours aren’t the same,” Harry pointed out, still reeling. It was normal for Hermione to scold him about his health, but Ron? And Ron hadn’t even been there. He only knew the story of the risks Harry had run second-hand. And, well, Harry just didn’t think he deserved this, not when he was tired and in pain and facing a delicate emotional situation when he returned to Malfoy Manor.
“Promise me you’ll try.” Ron’s voice softened, and Harry looked uncertainly at him, to face a gaze that was a great deal more sympathetic than he had thought it would be. “I know it isn’t your fault all the time, Harry. I’m not trying to blame you for getting attacked. And I think the defenses on the Manor will be a lot better than the ones on St. Mungo’s apparently are.” His voice chilled, and Harry was glad Ron hadn’t decided to work in hospital himself. “But there are things you could do to keep yourself safe that you aren’t doing. You even know what they are, because I’ve heard you talk about them as just not being worth the time or effort. Take the precautions, all right?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered then, so softly that Harry could barely hear him.
Harry reached through the fire and clasped Ron’s hand in his. Ron tightened his grip for a moment, as if he might drag Harry into the safety of his and Hermione’s house. Harry wished he could think of it as perfectly safe, the way he had only last week. But no, it was better that he go back to the Manor. Perhaps he didn’t understand about sparing himself pain, but he understood about sparing other people.
Spare us suffering, and take care of yourself better.
Harry took a deep breath. “I promise I’ll try,” he said, and Ron’s face lit up with a fierce smile.
“Good.” He let go of Harry’s hand, apparently not wanting to make more of an emotional scene than he already had, and peered past Harry into the study. “I’m surprised the Malfoys let you alone long enough to speak to us.”
“They weren’t happy about it,” Harry agreed, rubbing the skin beneath his ear. He wondered for a moment if the imprint of Draco’s lips was visible there, and then told himself not to be ridiculous. “In fact, we should return to the Manor. Lucius is alone there—“
“Except for the army of house-elves,” Ron said, and his mouth fell open as his ears caught up with his brain. “Excuse me,” he said. “Did you just call the man Lucius? I thought you made it a policy not to address your patients by their first names. Or the ones you had cause to hate during the war, at least.”
“It’s some complicated pure-blood thing.” Harry also wanted to wait to explain this mess to Ron until he had more time and was less tired. “I go along with it because it’s not worth pitching a fit about.”
Ron nodded, a smile of understanding on his face. “I bet you’ll be glad to come home, won’t you, mate?”
“Oh, yes,” Harry said softly. If I know where home is, now.
*
Harry had assumed he would see Lucius immediately when they entered the Manor, but a house-elf appeared, and Narcissa spoke quietly to it. She turned back to Harry with a faint smile on her face a moment later. “The elves spiked his soup with a sleeping draught,” she said. “He’ll be abed until noon at least. You should return to your rooms.” She hesitated, one hand touching the side of her skirt. “That is,” she murmured, “if you would not like us to move your rooms.”
“Their location was never a problem,” Harry hastened to reassure her.
“Would you prefer a different set?” Draco asked him. He seemed to have an easier time being blunt than his mother. He also had one arm draped around Harry’s shoulders, perhaps the better to judge the way his muscles bunched and his breathing changed at any suggestion. “That’s what she means. We didn’t consult your choice when we put you in those rooms, and I remember the decorating scheme bothering you.” His other hand touched the small of Harry’s back, stroking as if to ease sobs from his throat.
“I—no, thank you,” Harry said, awkward again. How was he to explain that he did admire the rooms, he just didn’t think they were for him? And if their beauty was an expression of the liking Narcissa had spoken about, then maybe they were for him, and the Malfoys’ anxiety now was a consequence of their wondering whether he would have preferred a different gift.
Still, they were honest with me. They asked which rooms I would prefer rather than offering me their own choices. And Draco hasn’t spoken a single order to me since they found me in hospital. I owe them honesty, too.
“It bothered me because I wasn’t used to it,” he said. “And because I had to wonder about your motives.”
Narcissa raised her eyes from the floor. “I trust you know them better now?”
“Yeah, I do.” Harry wished he could look away, but Gryffindor courage and that strong sense of what he owed people who liked him, like Ron and Hermione, and went out of their way to take care of him, made him keep on meeting her eyes. “Thank you. The rooms are beautiful. I’m sure I’ll get more used to them as time goes on.”
Draco’s arm tightened around his shoulders at the words. Harry glanced at him curiously, but could make out nothing specific in his face.
“If you want to join Father,” Draco said then, “I’ll make sure Harry reaches his bed properly.”
Narcissa nodded and brushed a hand over her son’s cheek. After everything, Harry was still startled when she touched his face, too. She had glided off up the staircase before he could say anything.
The moment she rounded the corner, Draco bowed his head and whispered, “If there was anything you felt uncomfortable saying in front of her, you can say it now. Do you like the rooms? Would you prefer something—“ He struggled for a moment as if it taxed his vocabulary to come up with the right word, and finally finished, “Plainer? Simpler?”
Harry yawned. “At the moment, anything sounds good if it has a bed in it,” he said. He could feel Draco’s smile, and the way his fingers trailed up and down his shoulders in the moments before he started them walking towards the staircase. Harry made sure to catch his eye as he put his foot on the bottom step, though, and Draco’s smile faded quickly.
“If you command Rogers to watch over me that closely again,” Harry said, “or feed me like a baby, or try to smother me with blankets, then it doesn’t really matter what sort of relationship I might have with your parents. I’ll treat you as coldly as politeness will permit me to, and I’ll curse you out of my bed if I find you in it.”
Draco stared earnestly back at him. His eyes did waver for a moment, and Harry thought he was probably trying to plot how much he could get away with given Harry’s new restrictions.
But then he drove his nails into his palms as if remonstrating with himself to behave, looked up, and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good,” Harry said, blinking a little. He hadn’t expected to earn that victory. But Draco put a hand on his shoulder exactly as if he didn’t resent losing, and after long moments of limping along to prove his independence, Harry allowed himself to lean against Draco’s shoulder and absorb the warmth of his side.
It has been a long day.
The moment they stepped into the bedroom, Rogers appeared. Draco leaned Harry gently against the wall opposite the mirror and then knelt down to the house-elf’s level, apparently so he would understand Draco’s seriousness.
“I countermand the orders I gave you before,” he said. “You’re to ensure only that Harry doesn’t come to extraordinary harm, like any other inhabitant of the house, and not to harass him with food or sleep or protection when he doesn’t want it.”
“Master Harry Potter is needing something else at the moment,” Rogers said, sniffing the air and then staring at Harry with those disconcerting sharp eyes. “Master Harry Potter has been walking around without the healing potions he needs, because Master Harry Potter is being an idiot.”
Draco came up off the floor and onto his feet so fast that Harry thought it left afterimages drifting across his sight. “You’re hurt?” Draco demanded, bounding to his side. “Why didn’t you say so before I dragged you up all those stairs? Harry…” His voice had an oddly helpless sound to it, and his hands hovered above Harry’s shoulders and then his ribs, as if he feared to touch him anywhere in case he hurt him more.
Harry blinked at Rogers. “I had curses cast at me, but I was healed of the wounds,” he said. “I really don’t know what you mean.”
Rogers crossed his arms. “Rogers can be smelling the lingering of the Breath-Stealing Charm in the air,” he said flatly. “It damages the lungs without a healing potion. And Master Harry Potter is not to be damaging his lungs in Rogers’s house.” He spoke as if Harry were a dog that had taken to vomiting on the rug.
“I never learned that,” said Harry, his shoulders tightening again. “And I’m sure the Healer who took care of me would have noticed the effects of the curse and made sure I got a healing potion, if I needed one.” Healer Pontiff would have. I’m sure of it. I described the charm to her; she had to recognize it.
“You have no friends in that hospital, Harry,” Draco said briskly, and then nodded at Rogers. “The Breath-Stealing Charm. Precisely what are its effects? I have several healing potions that may work on his lungs, but I don’t want to select one too strong.”
“Master Draco is being disingenuous,” said Rogers, and flicked his disapproving glance at Draco for once. “And also behind in his studies, if he does not recognize this charm. It forces the lungs to stop working. It steals the breath from the body.” He shook his head mournfully at Harry. “Master Harry Potter is determined to die where Rogers cannot be watching him.”
“I managed to stop it in time,” said Harry, but his voice was weaker than he would have liked, thanks to the stricken expression on Draco’s face.
Draco didn’t say anything for long moments, though, even the scolding Harry half expected. He reached out and delicately feathered his fingers down Harry’s cheeks, up over the bridge of his nose, and over his scar, as if he were blind and needed to learn Harry’s features. His eyes were steady, his pupils enormous.
“Do you know who they were?” Draco asked at last.
“No,” Harry said. “A group of wizards and witches wearing dark blue robes, who vanished together with a spell that surrounded them with mist and definitely shouldn’t have worked in hospital.”
“Hmm,” Draco said, so gently that Harry thought Hermione might have been wrong to worry about the Malfoys’ tendency towards vengeance. They put family first, so taking care of him would matter more than extracting payment from someone Harry couldn’t have named.
Harry paused.
They care about me more than they care about revenge.
To escape the fine trembling that had invaded his limbs, Harry sat down on the bed and stared up at Draco. Draco bent closer, fingers now apparently learning the shape of his ears, eyes still intent. Then he gently tilted Harry’s head to the side, kissed the corner of his jaw, and stood.
“I have a potion that should work to ease the damage to your lungs,” he said. “Stay sitting if you can, Harry. You shouldn’t exert yourself more than you have to.” And he turned and stepped out of the room.
Harry leaned back slowly on the bed, groaning as the sheets gave under him and rubbed against his skin. He let his eyes fall shut, wondering for a moment if he would sleep before Draco could even return with the potion. Possibly he hadn’t properly appreciated the softness before because he hadn’t been this tired. But no, it wasn’t his imagination; the bed was subtly shifting its contours to cradle his body better, and the sheets warmed. Harry sighed, turning his head to nestle his cheek into the pillows. Yes, some luxury wasn’t too bad once in a while.
Particularly if it took his mind off the disturbing speculations raised by Draco’s words.
Healer Pontiff couldn’t have known. She wouldn’t deliberately have left me in pain, or more than pain. I didn’t give her enough detail about the attack, that’s all. She must have thought it was some more harmless spell that hit me.
Again Emptyweed’s voice snarled warnings in his ear, implying that visiting Healer Pontiff was in itself stupid and dangerous. But Harry shook his head. He accepted that the man wasn’t evil, but he’d never made an effort to let Harry know the truth about his enemies, either. Who was Harry to believe, the man who’d cast a headache curse to “protect” him or the woman who had given him advice and trained him exquisitely in healing for as long as he’d known her? Besides, if his enemies were afraid of his talent and didn’t want him to advance, it didn’t make sense that she’d trained him so well.
Unless she’s part of a different kind of conspiracy, and the enemies Emptyweed tried to warn you against aren’t the ones who found you today. Could there be a group hunting you and a group hunting Lucius?
“Here’s the potion.”
Harry managed to drag his eyes open with an effort, but sitting up was beyond him. A warm lassitude had seeped into his muscles. He suspected that was all the bed’s fault, but he couldn’t muster the energy to glare right now, either. “Help me drink it, please?” he said.
A long pause. Just when Harry was about to repeat the request, Draco curled an arm around his shoulders and lifted him from the bed. Harry whined in protest at the loss of warmth, but swallowed the potion obediently. It tasted like lemonade, rather than the taint of dirt and dry bark healing potions for the lungs often carried. Harry hazily wondered if Draco had added an extra ingredient to make it taste sweeter for him. But surely that was romantic and sentimental nonsense talking. Probably such potions were delicate and couldn’t stand much tampering at all, or they would explode.
“At least, maybe they are,” he found himself saying aloud. “And I wouldn’t know because I never passed my Potions exam.”
“I like doing this,” Draco murmured, as if in answer. “Helping you do those things you ask me to and can’t do for yourself. I’ll help you pass your Potions exam if you ask.” He swept Harry’s hair away and kissed the back of his neck. Harry smiled, though he was in no mood to pursue this tonight, and Draco drew away as if he realized it. “Hanging the mirror didn’t work so well to convince you you’re beautiful, but we’ll work on that later.”
“You like this?” Harry blinked at him. That really hadn’t occurred to him. He had thought Draco enjoyed giving orders and protecting a member of his family, and he could understand why, but this was new. Feeding sleepy patients potions had never been his favorite part of mediwizardry.
“I like doing things for anyone I like,” Draco said, somewhat defiantly, as if he expected Harry to find fault with that. Perhaps he did, considering their history. “And now you have me talking like you. Merlin.” His arms tightened suddenly, and he nuzzled his way into Harry’s hair. Harry wondered where the potions vial had gone. “I was furious when I realized where you had gone, and then more frantic as time passed and I didn’t hear from you. And I didn’t come after you until the Patronus came because of my stupid pride, and because I didn’t want to tell Mother why you’d left in the first place.”
“I was all right,” Harry said.
“You could have died!” Draco’s voice snapped like a broken twig. He stopped, panting, and then said, “But you let me do this for you, take care of you like this. I don’t understand why, but—thank you. It makes me feel better.”
Harry felt a sweet chill run through him. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” he said. It would have been difficult to say those words with his awareness and pride fully intact, but Draco had already seen him lolling about on the bed like some kind of sultan. “But I don’t think there’s anything else I could have done. You were wrong.”
“Not about the danger.”
Harry yawned. “You got that right by accident.”
“Yes,” Draco whispered, and kissed him again.
Harry rather lost track of time after that, and heard someone breathing gently and someone else saying words that made him wonder if he had wandered into Lucius and Narcissa’s bedroom by mistake. The words were restrained, still, not as emotional as what Hermione or Ron might have said to him, but open.
“I want you. I like being near you. I wish I saw you laugh and smile more often. I wish you cared as much about healing yourself as you do about healing other people. I’ll do what I can to help with that healing. You don’t know—you don’t know how much you’ve changed the house, the family, just by being with us for a few days. I like you…”
And that was when he drifted off.
*
“I fear I have not been entirely honest with you, Harry.”
Harry managed to smile even as he finished casting the last diagnostic spell on Lucius and watched the blue dolphin it created swim back to him and blend with his outstretched arm. No increase of the presence of dreambane within the body, the voice of the spell said in his mind. Harry had never noticed before how much it sounded like Healer Pontiff’s voice.
He had not lost his suspicions, and they were intruding when he tried to take care of Lucius. Really, his life would have been much easier if he could have the gift of concentration at all moments, not just when his life was in danger.
“That seems to be a common plague in this house,” he said. “I wasn’t honest with you about my feelings of discomfort, either, and look where it got me.”
“This matter is more serious.”
Harry paused in sliding his wand into his sleeve. When he looked at Lucius carefully, still lying in the middle of the large bed on pillows that spread about him like wings, he realized he wasn’t meeting Harry’s eyes. That was a first. Harry swallowed. Was Lucius about to tell him that he had been plotting with the conspirators all along?
No. That makes even less sense than the idea that Healer Pontiff was working with them.
“All right,” he said.
“I did not know what specific grievance my attacker had against me,” said Lucius. “I have never raped anyone, and I do not even remember the girl Smythe claims as his daughter. And with what you have discovered about the Mirror Maze and the dreambane, though he obviously had help, I do not think anyone else was needed to attack me. They only needed someone who hated me enough to do as he was told and accept help he might have discovered came from former Death Eaters.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Then what—“
“The administrators of the hospital have a grudge against me,” Lucius said calmly. “Some time ago, I withdrew all of my funding and charitable donations, so as to spend my money on purposes tied more tightly to the Malfoy family. This resulted in a particularly large loss on their part in purchasing medicinal potions, which my donations had mostly been marked for.” He stared at Harry now with no expression on his face, but Harry could see the way his mouth pulled to one side and knew Lucius had set his teeth in worry. “I went into hospital in the first place because I had no other choice. I did know from the first day that my life might be in danger, however, and so might the life of anyone who tried to help me.”
Harry backed away a step from the bed. His head was whirling with names and faces of all the people who might have been assigned to Lucius’s case instead of him—less experienced mediwizards and Healers, who might either have been caught up and killed by the conspiracy or forced to watch Lucius die because they couldn’t save him and suffer the guilt for the rest of their lives.
And his own task would have been so much easier if he had known. He could have advised Lucius to leave St. Mungo’s the moment he identified the problem as a maze of spells. He could have taken the precautions Ron had made him promise to take. He could have made arrangements to start finding out the names and faces of his enemies long before they were aware he knew of them.
“I can give you names,” Lucius said.
“You didn’t think at all about what might happen to anyone else, did you?” Harry whispered. “If I had died, it wouldn’t have mattered to you.”
“It would not have mattered before the Heart’s Blessing spell, no,” Lucius said. “That made you part of the family. It changed things.”
Harry shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I honestly had no reason to think the administrators of St. Mungo’s were behind this, until you told me about the blue robes.” Lucius gave a small shrug. “I believed you when you said that the person who removed my stabilization fields and tried to kill me was most likely an individual, acting alone. Even after all my experience serving under the Dark Lord, I still suspect individuals first and conspiracies second, if at all.”
“But still—I needed to know if you had any enemies there particularly!” Harry glared at him. “Things could have been different.”
“And why should I have told you?” Lucius said. “That information is only for family to know. After the Heart’s Blessing spell, it is true, I did consider telling you. On the other hand, we left the hospital that same day, and then you were safe within the protection of the Manor’s walls, as a Malfoy should be. I did not foresee my son’s stupidity and your return, unescorted, to hostile territory.”
“But when I started suspecting Death Eaters were behind the curse and had the help of Healers, you could have told me then—“
“I did not think you ready for that knowledge yet,” said Lucius. “Indeed, you are so newly settled into the family, and your history with us before that was so tumultuous, that I wished to avoid any unnecessary reference to deeds you may have thought reprehensible. I did not want you to think—“ He broke off with a sharp little motion of his head.
The words that would have followed were still as clear to Harry as if he had spoken them. I did not want you to think me reprehensible.
“You are a stubborn arse,” Harry said fiercely.
Lucius stared at him.
“I need the hospital administrators’ names,” Harry went on, striding towards the door from the bedroom. “And any other key information that you might have felt like squatting on instead of telling me about. And your promise not to keep it from me again.” His plan was to exit without looking back, but in the end he had to spin around, slam a hand into the door panel, and yell at Lucius, “And you’re an idiot if you think mere references to the past were going to jolt me out of a family who appeared to accept me, but keep in mind that stupidity like yours and Draco’s just might.”
Then he was running towards his room, swearing under his breath and contemplating the miracle that was Lucius Malfoy looking flabbergasted.
Chapter 16.
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Here I go...I'll say it again...I LOVE THESE MALFOYS! Narcissa's almost shy question about the suitability of Harry's rooms, Draco's gentle care and beautiful words, even Lucius's stubbornness regarding keeping family information solely within the family...all that adds up to much Malfoy lovin' from me!
I really liked Ron here, too, with his angry worry for Harry. And Harry himself, accepting bits of affection more freely now, but still so thoroughly Harry in his complete tirade against Lucius at the end. LOVE IT ALL!!!
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Harry really will beat Lucius up if he keeps information hidden again, though.
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But you let me do this for you, take care of you like this. I don’t understand why, but—thank you. It makes me feel better.
That was so sweet, and this: And now you have me talking like you. Merlin, it was very amusing :D
This was a wonderful chapter, thanks for sharing.
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I like writing that dialogue. I think it makes Draco more human, since this time the reader doesn't get to see his POV.
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And, well, there's something going on there, but it may not be that she's helping the conspirators.
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After two previous works in which Draco was at odds with his family -- to the point where his family had become the enemy -- it's nice to see them showing such a sense of togetherness.
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I adore that line. This work is so exciting.
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Draco wouldn't have dared say those things to Harry before; he thought they made him look weak. He's relaxing more now.
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The little Ron scolding Harry bit was well done. We've gotten to see lots of Hermione in your last few fics, but not much of Ron. Glad he got some air time. XP
And hurrah for Harry still speaking his mind like a Gryffindor! The Malfoys won't be converting him yet.
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I'm less confident writing Ron than I am writing Hermione, which is one reason I don't show him as much.
And thank you!
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And I'm so glad Harry is feeling connected. Being accepted into a family would be something he so dearly wants. (Mean. Bad. Dursleys.) He'll be a Malfoy yet. How funny is that? I suppose not so funny in the H/D internet fanfic universe, but still.
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And thank you! Harry drops a few hints about the Dursleys in the next chapter, which Draco eagerly absorbs.
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And I do like to write caring!Draco. It's fun.
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Oh, that is so very very Draco!
I also loved the next to last paragraph (well, I loved all of it, but you know) in which it seems that Harry has finally figured out that he has a family to accept him!!!
Related question about your new WiP -- you said that you had discovered in yourself a recent kink for wanting to see Harry loved/accepted by the Malfoys. I noticed that in that other story, Lucius doesn't seem terribly anti-Harry, at least from what we've seen so far. Dare we hope that that story might include some Malfoy family acceptance as well?
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Lucius is indeed going to play a major part in that story, and it won't be as someone anti-Harry. Of course, his major motive at the moment is wanting to protect Draco, rather than Harry.
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Harry does confront Healer Pontiff eventually.
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It was a little unexpected to write Ron acting that way, but I do like how it turned out.
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Peace,
Bubba
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Harry doesn't know for sure that Pontiff's involved. And the Healing techniques she taught him do seem to be real.
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"you don’t know how much you’ve changed the house" yeah it seems that since Harry 's been there there is a lot more of "drama-queening" going on.
hihi
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*snicker* Harry would insist it's Draco's fault.
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I want to comment on this one before I run to the other.
I loved Draco's eloquent silence when Harry is finally vulnerable enough to ask for his help! What he said was very touching. Besides, it's what he desired, for Harry to ask him things.
I loved Rogers'keen observation too, for once.
As for healer Pontiff... hmmm, if she is indeed guilty against Lucius or Harry, Harry will have a hard time keeping the Malfoys from retaliating. And we do know how important she is for him, he has been quoting her in his mind from the first chapter.
The Lucius-Harry interactions are always captivating too.
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Harry might have given in earlier if he'd been as tired as he was then. He still thinks it's a little odd Draco wants to take care of him, though.
Harry has a reason to relax a little about the Malfoys' vengeance. But he would certainly try to protect Healer Pontiff from them as he might not try to protect other victims.
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I'd had a niggling feeling---
but no!
No! I won't believe it! You must have something up your sleeve!
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harry telling lucius off=hilarious (and totally warranted).
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Poor Lucius (in a way). But he really was an idiot this time.