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Chapter Nineteen—Vengeance Is Mine, Saith the Parselmouth

Draco smiled a little as he watched Bandler step into the office, glancing around without noticing Draco sitting in the chair behind his desk, blinking, and yawning. Bandler waved his wand lazily to make the magical torch sconces on the walls light up, and then turned around, and saw Draco, and went very still.

“Healer Bandler,” Draco said lazily, putting some pressure on the name because he could. “I hope you’re well.”

“Mr. Malfoy.” Bandler’s eyes darted around as if he expected Harry to step out from some shadow or corner at any second. He really is afraid of him, Draco marveled. “Is there a reason that you couldn’t Floo me before coming to see me?”

Draco smiled at him. “I thought this conversation best held in private, and given your reliance on the media, I didn’t know that I wouldn’t find some reporters waiting for me if I alerted you ahead of time.”

Bandler shook his head and sat down in the patient’s chair across from the desk. “It’s not a problem,” he said, while his strained smile said otherwise. “I presume that you’ve come to talk to me about Harry Potter?”

Draco paused. The expression on Bandler’s face was strange, still with an edge of fear but also with something eager to it that Draco distrusted. “Yes,” he said.

“Ah.” Bandler sighed it out. “I should have known that it wouldn’t be long before his Dark Lord tendencies showed themselves.” He whipped out a quill and parchment. “So you can explain to me in more detail exactly what he did, and why you can’t have him working at the school any longer.”

Draco stared at him. Rage blew through his vision like red clouds.

He thought I came to—to betray Harry.

But why would that be a surprise, really, when Draco thought about it? That was what everyone else except the Weasleys and Granger who had been Harry’s friends or worked with him had done.

He leaned forwards and said softly, “Well, before I begin talking about Harry, there are some parameters to the conversation I think we ought to make clear first.”

Bandler nodded briskly. “Of course. I’m willing to split the proceeds at least sixty-forty—”

“Edwina, confine him.”

Bandler flinched at the Parseltongue, but not nearly as much as he did when Edwina slithered out from under his chair and flung her body around one of Bandler’s legs and one of the chair legs. Then Bandler was sitting too still to flinch, while Edwina coiled like a rope and lifted her head. Her tongue was flickering and her hood was spread, just to make absolutely sure that Bandler couldn’t mistake her for some harmless kind of snake.

“Y-you didn’t have to do this,” Bandler whispered, shivering, his eyes on Edwina.

“Oh, I think I did,” Draco said. “Since you won’t stop persecuting my friend, this is the best solution I could think of.”

“Your friend?”

Draco blinked. He had expected Bandler to spin that as an insinuation, to make it obvious that he thought Draco was Harry’s lover. But instead, Bandler just sounded astonished and a little sick.

Understanding came, and Draco gave into the temptation to stand up from behind the desk and walk around it, although he hissed instructions to calm Edwina when she started to get agitated. “You don’t think he should have any friends at all, do you?” he asked softly. “You fear him so much that you can’t understand why other people would see the good in him.”

“There is no good in Harry Potter!”

“The one who defeated one of the most powerful Dark Lords Britain has ever seen.” Draco kept his voice soft. It was an effort. “The one who defeated a basilisk when he was twelve, and got away from a resurrection ritual when he was fourteen that he’d been an ingredient in—”

“Didn’t those show that Potter had powerful Dark magic? That was the only way a teenager could have defeated You-Know-Who!” Bandler strained for a second, and then seemed to remember his “rope” was a living one and would bite him if he moved too much. He sat back, breathing hard.

“Even if he did, so what?” Draco snapped. “Has he ever used it to hurt someone? Has he ever—”

“He could! And isn’t it a sign that he’s Dark, if he has Parseltongue?” Bandler glared at him without moving his head. “Like you?”

Draco laughed. Bandler shrank back in the chair, and then froze again. Edwina hissed, “I would like to bite him. I would like to make him suffer.”

“His taste could give you indigestion,” Draco said, not taking his eyes from Bandler. “I would prefer that you not bite him unless you have to.”

“If he insults you or the one you want to mate with again—”

“That is not enough of a provocation,” Draco said swiftly, ignoring his amusement at her name for Harry. He kept his eyes on Bandler, who had broken out in a cold sweat just from the sound of Parseltongue. “I have something else in mind.”

Edwina gave him a sulky turn of her head, but didn’t cease binding Bandler’s leg to the chair and didn’t bite. Draco bent down towards him. “I don’t know where you got the impression that Parselmouths are all Dark,” he said. Bandler started to speak, but Draco raised a hand, and Edwina grew a bit tighter, and Bandler shut his mouth. “Nor do I care. The important thing is to know that I won’t tolerate you speaking badly, or at all, of Harry Potter again. Or I’ll show you how Dark I can be.”

“Is that a threat?”

“How did someone as unsubtle as you are make a career in Mind-Healing? Yes, it’s a threat.”

“But you couldn’t do anything to me. If something happened to me, if I even had an accident, then Harry Potter would be the first suspect.”

Draco did have to acknowledge that, but he didn’t have to do it aloud. He looked at Bandler and smiled a little, and Bandler shivered.

“But I wouldn’t,” Draco murmured. “And I know a lot about both potions and poisons, as one would expect of a Parselmouth with a venomous snake who thought about pursuing Potions as a career. I wouldn’t have to make you die. I could make you suffer. I could put you in a coma for years. I could make you unable to eat any more than a few mouthfuls a day.”

“But you won’t do that if I swear never to speak ill of Potter again?”

Draco stared at him in silence. “No,” he said finally.

Bandler swallowed and managed to look down at Edwina without moving his head. “Let me go,” he whispered. “I’ll swear whatever oath or sign whatever contract you want that says I’ll never bother Potter again.”

Draco, as it happened, had brought a contract with him. He pulled it free from his pocket and flattened it out on the desk, Levitating Bandler’s chair closer to it without asking Edwina to move. Then he took out a Blood Quill and handed it to Bandler. Bandler shuddered a little when he took it.

“You have so much less courage than Harry, it’s unbelievable.”

Bandler shot him a humiliated look, but signed his name on the contract. Draco held back a laugh. He hadn’t bothered to read it. But that was to Draco’s advantage. He took the contract back, rolled it up, and slipped it into a pocket of his robe. Then he lifted his wand and snapped to Edwina, “Back off.”

Edwina slithered free and landed on the floor. Bandler’s hand promptly plunged into his robes for his own wand holster, but stopped when Draco pointed his hawthorn wand between Bandler’s eyes.

“I signed the contract,” Bandler whispered, his voice trembling. “You have to let me go.”

“That was the vengeance I promised for you trying to hurt Harry in the future,” Draco said, smiling. “I haven’t yet taken revenge for what you did to Harry in the past.”

Bandler gave a heavy, audible swallow. “Potter w-wouldn’t want you to take revenge on me,” he quavered.

“That’s not what I would have expected you to say when you hate him and think he’s evil,” Draco murmured. “But be that as it may, things have changed. Harry’s tired of your interference and the pain you inflicted on him. He granted me permission to take this vengeance.” And Draco would show Harry the Pensieve memory of this later. He was already anticipating the expression that would cross Harry’s face when he did.

“You wouldn’t—”

“Mentem sicco,” Draco hissed, and flicked his wand forwards. The stream of blue light darted away from the tip and into Bandler’s forehead, between his eyes. His head snapped back, and he uttered a loud cry.

Draco smiled. “You recognize the Brain Drain Curse, of course, as a Mind-Healer,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. I left it slow-acting enough that you’ll feel yourself losing your memories and control of your mental faculties. But since it mimics the effects of a particularly addictive potion that I’ve taken the time to place among your possessions…”

“I’ll go to the Aurors!” Bandler snarled, looking as if he wanted to spring forwards and wrest Draco’s wand away, and only his own cowardice was keeping him in place. “You’ll be arrested—”

“At the moment, an extremely convincing illusion of myself is at the school, teaching multiple children,” Draco said. Pansy was behind the illusion, but no need to mention that. “It’s going to be ten people’s word against yours. Not to mention that that particular curse warps memories so that you can’t withdraw any to put in a Pensieve, and you might tell the truth under Veritaserum, but the curse—and the potion—would warp your perceptions so that no one will really trust that you’re telling the truth as opposed to the truth as you perceive it.”

“I had to do it! I had to tell people the truth, that Potter wasn’t some beloved hero, that he was—that he’s dangerous—”

“You didn’t have to,” Draco said coldly, and tucked his wand away. “You did it for money. Well, now you can suffer and end up in St. Mungo’s again, although not as a Mind-Healer this time.”

Bandler snarled at him and drew his wand after all. Draco nodded. “Edwina.”

Edwina hadn’t gone far when she’d uncoiled from Bandler’s leg. She pressed her fangs lightly against his skin now. Bandler froze.

“So afraid of such a simple gift,” Draco mocked softly. “If you ever come near Harry again, then I’ll do something worse. Imagine that. Imagine what’s going to happen to you as your mind deforms over the next few years, and imagine what I can do that’s worse.”

Bandler sank back with a soft whimper. Draco left the office and only then called to Edwina, watching Bandler carefully in case he tried to strike at her. But he just slumped and moaned, his hands clasped to his temples.

“That was fun,” Edwina said, as Draco picked her up and tucked her away beneath his shirt. “Tell the one you want to mate with that I will like him if he continues to provide us with such fun prey.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

Draco strolled out of the building that held Bandler’s office under a Disillusionment Charm, the same way he had come in. He couldn’t stop smiling, both remembering the expression on Bandler’s face and imagining the one that would be on Harry’s when he saw. Draco’s memory.

*

Harry pulled his head out of the Pensieve and exhaled hard, blinking at the desk for a moment.

“Harry?”

Draco sounded quieter than he had when he was promising Harry the delight of watching him get revenge on Bandler. And Sela hissed softly, “Are you going to say or do something stupid?”

Harry put his hand on her back and shook his head without saying anything. Then he turned around to face Draco.

Draco was watching him with a quiet kind of apprehension that made Harry’s heart ache a little. He held out a hand, and Draco came forwards to clasp it, his eyes darting back and forth between the Pensieve and Harry’s face.

“I didn’t know you were going to do something that—strong,” Harry said, rejecting some of the other words he could have used before he spoke them. “But I agree that he would have just kept going and tried to get to me to some other way. And…”

Draco watched him through his silence for a few minutes, and then made an impatient sound. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Harry. What?”

“I liked it that you wanted to take vengeance for me,” Harry whispered. “I like it that he’ll suffer for what he did to me. I don’t—it’s not something I should take that much pleasure in in, not something I can discuss with Ron and Hermione. But not even they tried to suggest that I should do something that wasn’t legal, and when he couldn’t be sacked from St. Mungo’s, they just told me to try and move on from it.”

Draco sneered. “Gryffindors.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and let Draco see it.

Draco coughed, and nodded. “Yes, all right. Bringing House into it isn’t productive,” he said, something Harry had told him a few weeks ago when Harry had found himself resorting to “Slytherins” in his head. But then Draco smiled. “I did something for you that no one else could do, didn’t I?” he whispered, wrapping a hand around the back of Harry’s neck.

“You did. And I appreciate it, even though it’s not the kind of thing I’ll announce to anyone else.”

“That’s all right,” Draco said breathlessly, moving a step closer. “It can be our secret.” And he kissed Harry, clenching his hand hard around the back of Harry’s neck and digging his fingers in.

Sela moved out of the way with a pleased hiss that was as close to laughter as she could probably come. Harry lost himself to the kiss. It was wild and heated, harder than the other ones Draco had given him, and Draco’s tongue twisted into his mouth, and Harry bucked against him before he thought about it, and—

And there was an answering hardness there.

Harry staggered back with a gasp, suddenly remembering that their children were in the school and might come into Draco’s office any second. Draco blinked and stared at him, his eyes wide and his hair mussed around his ears in a way that was undeniably attractive.

Harry’s eyes strayed downwards despite his silent admonishments to himself.

Draco lifted his head when he saw where Harry was looking, his teeth catching his lip. “Yes,” he said softly. “I do want you, Harry. I know that perhaps you don’t need the reassurance, but I want to give it.”

Harry swallowed. He had traveled so far, so fast, he thought. Just a few months ago, he had been sure that he would never date anyone again, or at least not until Jamie was at Hogwarts. Maybe not until he was done with Hogwarts, even.

But he trusted Draco. And he wanted back.

“I want you,” he echoed back softly, and saw Draco’s eyes widen before Harry stepped back and averted his face. “But maybe this isn’t the right time or place to express it, when the children might come barreling in at any minute.”

Draco seemed disappointed, but nodded. “And we don’t want to do another awkward explanation like we already did with Scorpius and James.”

The reminder of that conversation effectively killed Harry’s erection. He cleared his throat. “What do you say to a date this weekend?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you had another interminable Weasley party?”

“Draco.”

“I’m sorry, not interminable. Boring.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He hadn’t used either word. But he would let Draco have his pettiness. “Technically, I do, but I’ve been there every weekend for the last month, and Ginny might be there this time.”

Draco eased back and regarded him appraisingly. “I hadn’t thought you were the sort of person who ran away anymore.”

That stung, even though Harry was trying not to let it. He glared before he could stop himself, and then shook his head. “I don’t need to be there just to prove that I can be there. I’ve spent time around Ginny and not caused a scene. I’ve reconnected with Molly and Arthur. And frankly, I don’t trust everyone to keep Ginny away from Jamie if I sent him by himself.”

“Would she hurt him?”

“Not physically.”

Draco nodded slowly. “Astoria divorced me more because of me than because of Scorpius, but she hasn’t shown any great interest in him, either. She didn’t think Parseltongue was something we needed to pursue.”

Touched by the confession that he knew Draco wouldn’t have shared with everyone, Harry reached out and gripped Draco’s shoulder for a moment. “Ginny is—more volatile than that. I don’t think she would set out to verbally abuse Jamie, and she would probably feel sorry about it later. But that doesn’t keep it from being something I’d rather not have him encounter.”

“Of course,” Draco murmured. “Well, come here to the school tomorrow. Jamie can play with Scorpius, and we can invite a few of the other kids.”

“Wear ourselves out babysitting?”

“Wear them out,” Draco said, with a smile that trailed across his face much the way his eyes trailed down Harry’s body. “And then, when nightfall comes…”

“Yes,” Harry said hoarsely, and felt from the way Draco’s eyes brightened and Sela swayed on his shoulder that he had said yes to far more than just staying overnight.