Chapter Eight of 'For Their Unconquerable Souls'- Stubbornness Is Not a Virtue

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Eight—Stubbornness Is Not a Virtue

“But, mate, Malfoy.”

Draco bit his lip on the impulse to charge into the room and confront Weasley over the incredulous tone of his voice. He wasn’t supposed to be here, after all, and he doubted that yelling at Harry’s friends would grant him any progress in climbing into Harry’s bed.

Will anything?

Draco shook his head to rid himself of thoughts like this—of course he would despair if he got too impatient—and focused his mind on the conversation again. Harry was speaking with a warmth behind his voice that Draco wanted to bask in. Now, if Harry would direct that tone at him someday, matters would fall out perfectly, but in the meantime, at least he knew what it sounded like for his daydreams and wanking fantasies.

“I know. But I do think he’s changed since school.”

Silence, whilst Weasley struggled with the concept of people changing. Draco rolled his eyes. He was beginning to wonder how Weasley and Harry had survived the war, what with the total lack of intelligence on one side and common sense on the other. Of course, Granger had been with them. Perhaps she made up for Harry’s deficiencies as much as her husband’s.

“I still don’t think I’ve understood,” Weasley said. The overly plaintive tone in his voice made Draco cock his head thoughtfully. “Maybe if you use smaller words, mate?”

Harry gave a soft chuckle before he responded. “I don’t really understand it myself,” he murmured. “No one else ever offered me a bodyguard because I’d done the only right thing I could do. Granted, the situation with Lucius is extraordinary, but—“

Well, there’s one obstacle right there. If he persists in thinking of Lucius as only another patient, then he won’t understand any explanation I could offer him.

“Now you sound like Hermione.” There was a soft thunking noise, probably Weasley’s fingers impacting on his hollow skull. “I’ve spent most of my day being deafened by the newest Fwooper Charm George designed. Then what was left of my brain dribbled out my ears when I visited Percy and had to listen to him crooning baby talk to Lucy. Small words, remember.”

Draco was certain, now. The lack of intelligence Weasley showed was a game, as though he believed he was best off pretending to be stupider than he really was. Perhaps he found an amusement in that behavior because the game didn’t take much effort for him, Draco thought.

But the thought made uneasiness swell up in him like a breeding salamander. Yes, people could change since Hogwarts, and Harry and his friends were among them. Draco could not be certain that his perceptions were telling him the obvious truth the first time. He would have to listen and observe, if he wanted to come to sophisticated conclusions like the ones about Weasley’s game.

“Lucius is an unusual patient.”

At least he recognizes that much. Draco shifted to make his position of leaning against the wall more comfortable. He wished he could lean around the wall to catch a glimpse of Harry’s expressions—Lucius had taught him long ago that the best observation was not done through one sense alone—but he didn’t know how the room was laid out, and so where the fireplace might be, and so he didn’t know whether Weasley could catch a glimpse of him.

“You got that right.”

Draco blinked. Perhaps he could manage to feel a bit of compassion for the Weasel after all, if he got into the habit of agreeing with Draco.

“And it seems that he wants me alive so I can heal him.” Harry sounded half-amused, whilst Draco fought the impulse to drum his head against the wall. “What Malfoy’s interest in the matter is, I’m not exactly certain.”

Draco raked a hand through his hair. Why in the world can’t he see my motives? I’ve explained them to him with flirting. I’ve hinted that they’re related to the Heart’s Blessing spell. And he knows my interest in keeping my father alive, and that I think he’s the best mediwizard to do it. What does he need? An official edict from the Ministry, signed by that vulture-eyed superior of his whom he defers so strongly to?

“But he’s serving as honor guard until we can find out who tried to kill Lucius by removing the stabilization fields, and it’s not impossible that that same person might try to remove me as well.”

Draco bit the corner of his cheek, eyes firmly closed, until he felt the soothing blood pouring into his mouth. Of course Harry sounded utterly unconcerned that he might be the target of an assassination attempt.

“To think I thought being a mediwizard was a peaceful career.” Weasley had a proud tone to his voice, probably imagining that he was delivering a great piece of wit.

Harry laughed. Draco felt himself rise to his toes with involuntary reaction, but a new piece of information had come to him then, almost as pleasant and distracting as the laughter. So Weasley doesn’t really understand the self-neglect and the worsened temper that Harry suffers as a result of his job. No surprise there. I think he would hide such things from his friends as often as possible, and perhaps I can’t blame them for not being solicitous enough of him.

Then Granger’s voice spoke, and Draco felt a frisson of unexpected pleasure; she sounded more mature and intelligent than Weasley, which relieved Draco from listening to the ramblings of stupidity, but she also spoke on the subject that he had hoped someone else would talk to Harry about. “You have Malfoy living in the same house with you? Sharing your meals, sleeping across the corridor?”

Yes, Harry, think about that, Draco thought complacently. Not only that I’m so close I can slip into your bed without much forewarning, but also that I’m willing to give up my own privacy and comfort in order to attend you in this desolate place. That suggests no small level of devotion, doesn’t it?

“Er, yes?” Harry sounded both amused and bemused. Draco tapped his fingers in a steady cadence against his knee to relieve his feelings; tapping them against the wall would reveal him as surely as sounding a cymbal or a drum in the corridor.

“And he wants you healthy so you can heal his father?”

There was unmistakable interest in Granger’s voice. Draco straightened. I should have known that she would try to protect Harry’s health. She isn’t held back by the blindness that Weasley labors under or the odd indifference to it that Harry covets. But of course Harry ignores her advice when he can.

“That’s right,” Harry said, hastily. “But he’s not in charge of maintaining that health.”

Irritation exploded through Draco, and he stepped out into the doorway of the room before he could think better of it. Damn it, Harry was turning aside all the good services that his friends tried to offer him, and he would do the same thing with the services that Draco could offer him, given half a chance. Draco had a natural ally in Granger, and he didn’t intend to let the chance pass him by.

The room he stepped into was a nicely-appointed one, with carvings above the mantle and along the grate that he knew must be original to the house. A window with too few wards hovered threateningly in a corner, but Draco ignored it for the moment, knowing that showing too great a fear in front of Granger and Weasley would only get him teased and mocked. He could see Granger’s head hovering among the green flames of the fireplace, and Harry straightening to face him as if Draco were the enemy.

If he includes the enemies of his own stupidity among that number, then I am.

“I beg to differ, Potter,” he said, and Harry gave him an outraged little glance that reminded Draco of a kitten trying to stand up to an enormous hound. Draco snorted loftily into the air and ignored it. “Once again, we use widely varying definitions. I did think you looked too peaky when I saw you come into my father’s room this morning.” And your constant labors on the behalf of other people since then, whilst sparing nothing for yourself, haven’t helped.

Granger bristled like a cat who recognized the enormous dog as an intruder on her territory and could legitimately tear it to pieces. Draco nearly smiled. There was more than one reason he wanted her for an ally.

“I made sure he rested nine hours last night,” she said.

Ally or not, Draco was not going to allow her to defend her inadequate guardianship of Harry, lest Harry start thinking that he could get away with being unhealthy on Draco’s watch. “Well, quite obviously that wasn’t enough, Granger.”

“And you think you can get him to sleep longer than that? When he’ll be worried about having you in his house?” Granger rested her chin on her fists like someone making a business deal across one of those great tables Draco had never been comfortable sitting at. “Good luck with that.”

Draco choked back a protest about how he would never hurt Harry, and Harry ought to be afraid only of his own susceptibility to Draco’s seduction. If he couldn’t expect Harry to understand his position as a member of a pure-blood family, how much more education could he ask of Granger, who was a Mudblood?

“Am I the only one in the room who realizes how bizarre this conversation sounds?” Harry asked the wall.

Draco felt his lips open automatically to give an answer about how, when Harry acknowledged that his disdain for his own health was a problem, he could be involved in the conversation, but then he shook his head and extinguished the impulse. No, he was talking to Granger right now. She was watching him with keen, cutting eyes, and he wanted to impress her. It would be no bad thing, if he could start ingratiating himself with Harry’s friends right now. And besides, it was a relief to find some affable qualities in at least one of them; it would make up for what he might have to endure later on.

“I’m here to help him, not trouble him,” Draco said. “Let a few days pass and he’ll be so used to me that he might want me around all the time.” He folded his arms and tilted his chin up, but he was watching Harry from the corner of his eye, waiting to see how he reacted to this. Harry looked ungratifyingly astonished at the idea. Draco growled under his breath. How much did he have to extend himself before Harry would make some return? Couldn’t Harry see that he was trying?

Granger laughed, and thank Merlin, his new addiction was only to Harry’s laughter; hers did nothing to his insides. “But I’ll bet not even you could make him eat a regular meal. He doesn’t, you know, most of the time. It’s ‘gulp a headache potion and continue working until I wonder why I’m fainting,’ with him.”

Draco exhaled hard, appalled. Losing sleep was one thing; it could be made up on nights when Harry managed to escape early. Besides, from what Draco had seen here, Harry didn’t have a bed that would encourage him to spend extra time in it. But a lack of taste for good food was worse. How was Draco to repair that?

By some method other than spiriting Harry away to Malfoy Manor right this instant, which he had to acknowledge wasn’t practical.

But neither was it practical to attempt to suppress his own irritation any longer. He spun around to face Harry. “I’m not sure I appreciate my father’s care being in the hands of a mediwizard who can’t even take care of himself.” That ought to get to Harry. He was sensitive about any reflection that touched on his skill.

Harry stiffened and lifted his head the way Draco had done when he stepped into the room, so charming and defiant that Draco had to forego the temptation to jump on him right now. “My patients are important.”

“And you’re not?” Draco clucked his tongue, and had the pleasure of seeing Harry look furious. “Well, much is now explained. Your horrendous taste in furnishings, for example. Of course you can’t choose the right ones if you never take the time to pay attention to them.”

He was glad he could speak lightly to conceal his own anger and concern. There was putting others first, and then there was putting them only.

“I’m important, too!” Harry snapped, and then whirled around to glare at Granger, apparently having decided that she was the greater villain here. “You needn’t think you’ve won the bet forever. Or lost it.”

Draco blinked. What bet? Did they make a sort of bet about their health together? Well, that would be another reason why Harry was accustomed to treating himself like shite, if he thought he could wager on it.

“I mean,” Harry added then, “you know that Malfoy won’t be a permanent house-guest, and you would hate it if he was.”

Of course we won’t be staying here forever. Draco shuddered at the thought. We’ll move to the Manor soon enough.

“As long as he’s here,” Granger said, and she sounded happy about it, “he might as well do you good.” Draco still got a scowl for all that. “If I hear that you’ve hurt him, you’d better be on the other side of England from me.”

Draco let a smile widen across his face, one that he knew stood a decent chance of charming Granger. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said. “Hurting him would be counterproductive to my plans in more than one way.” He gave Harry a speculative glance. “Unless, of course, he likes that.”

Harry’s mouth fell open, and he blinked a little. Draco felt a small flame of triumph flare to life in his chest. It was time that he had a chance at frustrating and surprising Harry in the same way that Harry did to him.

Then, of course, the Weasel appeared in the flames again, because no enjoyment that Draco felt in Potter’s inferior house could go unalloyed. “You know what, mate?” he said to Harry. “I’m going to close the Floo connection now, and we’re going to pretend that this conversation never happened. All right?”

Draco tried to say something about the Weasel being unable to stand even the hint of real sexual pleasure, but Harry was speaking before he could get the words out. “Ron, it’s really not what you think—“

“I’m sure something can happen that’s worse than what I think,” Weasel said. “I’m trying not to think about it at all. Just tell me when the ferret’s gone.”

Well, Draco thought, as Weasley closed the Floo connection, that removes any guilt I felt for thinking of him as a weasel.

“Your friends are more amusing than I remember them being from school,” Draco said. He managed to sound reflective and not mocking, and was proud of himself for making the effort. Surely Harry ought to appreciate this as one of the most meaningful sacrifices Draco could make. “But that doesn’t mean you get all the food or rest you need. You need a full-time watcher.”

“Fuck you, I don’t!” Harry snapped, and turned around to face him. Draco blinked, unsure whether the suddenness of the movement or the vulgarity had surprised him more. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t need to be afraid that I’ll suddenly lose interest in Lucius, or turn against him the way the Healers have, or expose him to danger just because I’m tired. You don’t need to have anything to do with me. I—“

Draco was opening his mouth to explain, once again and patiently, that he was worried about Harry for more reasons than that, when he saw a brown-yellow spell tearing through the weak wards on the window, aimed straight for Harry’s back.

He moved before he knew what he was doing, seizing Harry and bearing him to the ground. Harry, of course, struggled, because God knew he couldn’t let anything be simple, even the saving of his own life. But the cessation of that struggle was a mixed blessing, because Harry promptly looked on the verge of fainting with pain.

Draco rolled him over, aware that he was grunting under his breath with desperation and fighting his own fear, which might have frozen his hands. The spell had hit Harry squarely in the middle of his back, tearing apart the cloth of his shirt and his flesh with equal ease. Draco could barely look at the ridges of scarred skin and muscle confronting him, or listen to the soft sizzling noise that the spell made as it dug deeper and deeper.

Luckily, he carried a potion that was effective against burns and wounds that resembled them as long as it was applied in the first few minutes. He dug it out without needing to look—the vials all felt different to him in shape or the texture of the glass—and wrenched the cork from it. He tipped the mint-green Firebane potion over the wound and heard the sizzling stop, replaced by the quietly popping bubbles that showed it was working. The next moment, some of the harsh ridges smoothed and softened. Draco sat back and put a hand over his eyes.

He was weak with terror, and Harry was already lifting his head and turning it around, though slowly enough to reassure Draco the impact of the blow had been felt.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, and then shifted as if he thought he would be standing soon. Draco conquered the impulse to laugh; it would only become despairing laughter, and refuse to stop. “That’s the debt your father owed me canceled, isn’t it? You saved my life.” His words were dull, slow, fumbling.

“I did,” Draco said, anger lending his hands strength as he pushed Harry into the floor again, “and the debt isn’t canceled because it’s not that kind of debt, and you’re going to rest.”

“I have to sit with Mary.”

Draco clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t scream. “I’ll make your excuses to the charming young lady.”

“I was on the verge of figuring out the maze of spells on your father,” Harry said.

Draco decided he’d had enough of this nonsense. Harry would have to put up with being taken care of whether he liked it or not. He scooped Harry up in his arms and turned towards the door from the study, telling him, because Harry would probably explode if he didn’t, “It can wait.”

“Can’t.”

“You’re as stubborn as a child when you want to be.” Draco laid a hand over the green eyes staring up at him, unable to believe that such a gesture should be necessary. “Go to sleep.”

Harry hung his head and started snoring a moment later.

*

It didn’t take long to settle Harry into bed in the bedroom Draco had chosen for himself, or to strengthen the wards until they were glittering with almost angry sparks. Draco would have strengthened them still further, but the windows bent and the walls groaned when he tried. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and watched Harry sleep for a moment.

Then he put his hands over his face and took a deep, sighing breath, grateful there was no one awake enough to scold him for it at the moment.

To be attacked in his home was his worst fear, the worst fear of any pure-blood. The home was the fortress, the one place where a family would have so many wards and traps and tricks and secret doors and defensible rooms that no enemy could destroy them even if he took them by surprise. And this spell had come through Harry’s weak wards and shattered his window. Draco had seen the hole gaping in the glass before he carried Harry away.

His hands would not stop shaking.

Oh, Harry, God. To have found you and then to lose you so soon. To be in the place that should keep you safer than any other, and then to see you threatened there.

Draco’s throat was thick with bile, and he had to choke several times before he could swallow it all. He leaned over Harry’s bed, staring at his still face, his shut eyes, his gently rising and falling chest. He knew he should probably feel some smugness that he had such a perfect excuse to stay in the house—of course Harry would need attendance of some kind whilst he recovered—but it was an entirely intellectual appreciation of the way circumstances had worked out. How could he rejoice in the way Harry had been confined to bed?

Harry opened his eyes and sat up.

He did it so quickly that Draco had no time to move out of the way, and the top of Harry’s head slammed into his jaw. He staggered back, his hands clasped over his mouth, swearing. The pain echoed up and into his ears and bones so that no other course was possible.

And then Harry started to get out of bed.

Mentally snarling, Draco prepared himself for battle.

Chapter 9.

Comments

[ravenqueen55.livejournal.com]

Another fabulous chapter!

[tray-la-la.livejournal.com]

awesome chapter! draco is particularly endearing in this one, especially after harry's hit with the spell. i love his determination! harry's stubbornness is as charming as ever, and i laughed when draco compared him to a kitten. :P ron is also adorably clueless. really, everyone is so great in this!

[helenadax.livejournal.com]

I think I'm repeating myself, but Draco has a lot of patience and confidence in this fic XD Now Harry's going to Malfoy manor, my favourite part! I missed Rogers and I'm very happy to see him again soon.

[firedraygon97.livejournal.com]

There was a soft thunking noise, probably Weasley’s fingers impacting on his hollow skull.

Love Draco's POV. His mental snark is awesome. Looking forward to the next update!

[nolagal.livejournal.com]

Mentally snarling, Draco prepared himself for battle.
So fabulous. I loved Draco's take on Ron and bonding with Hermione about Harry's health.
I love Draco's perspective on things! Wonderful!

[agr8fae.livejournal.com]

Draco is so endearing and persistant in this chapter. I really want to hit Harry and make him listen to reason!

[brknhalo241.livejournal.com]

I can't begin to tell you how satisfying it is to have such an opportunity to delve into the mind of a Malfoy. It's amazing to see the misconceptions that arise when you have one person moving within the world of subtlety while the other orbits in obliviousness. (Is that a word?) Anyway, I find it amusing to watch the struggles Draco goes through in searching for a way to close the gap without compromising his existence as a Malfoy. Very enjoyable.

[duchessa.livejournal.com]

Ha ha, Draco doesn't disappoint. His thoughts on Ron and Hermione were very entertaining. Got to agree with Harry though. He is a bit pretentious. I get that Ron is most probably pretending to be more clueless than he really is, but to dub it a 'sophisticated conclusion'? Only Malfoys. On the other hand, it's nice to see his concern for Harry. Makes up for his exasperating tendencies. :)
Love the image of the kitten with the enormous hound - Had to google that, and I got some very cute results. Very much looking forward to the next part - it's when Draco finally wised up right? We never did get his pov in BbU, so I'm really curious!

[star-faerie.livejournal.com]

I have this almost uncontrollable urge to start laughing. It was the penultimate sentence that did it. It was just so brilliantly composed, and so sharp. You can almost feel the world pausing to observe Harry's stupidity, and then staring up again as Draco turns.

Brilliant chapter. It was interesting to see how Draco saw Ron and Hermione, that they were potential allies whereas the thought never occurred to Harry that he might see them as such (I think) in BBU. Harry seems to excel at driving Draco to the breaking point, which is totally canonical as is the fact that they don't TALK to one another. It's so frustrating that they both seem to think that the other will instinctually know something, Draco's by far the worst in some ways. However, Harry is in others worse particularly as he doesn't LISTEN either to what people are saying, not just the words used.

I look forward to reading more :)