Chapter Twenty-Two of 'For Their Unconquerable Souls'- When Draco Can Admit He Made a Mistake

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Twenty-Two—When Draco Can Admit He Made a Mistake

Draco stared at the spot where Harry had been for long moments, his heart thumping so furiously that he ended up having to sit down. He clenched his hands and tried to breathe, but he had too many images in his mind: of their enemies swinging up sleek heads with predatory smiles and closing in on Harry like a school of sharks; of spells ripping Harry’s body to shreds; of pain curses crippling him until his hands curled like claws and he spoke only in whispers.

The last was too much. Draco found himself on his feet, tearing open the door of Harry’s rooms and running down the corridors like a madman, rather than simply sending Rogers to summon his parents, the way he would have done in a normal mood. He wasn’t aware until he started pounding on his mother’s door that tears were running down his cheeks.

*

Lucius rocked and grunted when someone ripped apart the wards. It was as though they had tried to escape through a prison door that was located in his flesh. Moments after it happened, he managed to open his eyes. He’d been thrown back against his pillows, and he had to look down before he was certain that no other wound had been opened in his chest according to his enemies’ curse.

After that, his mind worked very quickly.

Draco was not magically capable of ripping a hole in the wards, and Lucius had taught him well. He would never dare to damage the defenses of his home that way, not when they might be the difference between life and death.

Narcissa was daring enough, but she would have come to him and explained the reason first.

That left Harry.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and sat upright again, carefully regulating his breathing even as he snapped commands for the house-elves to check the wards. They appeared, bowed once, and then vanished to carry them out. It was somewhat of a pity, Lucius thought in despair, that his sons could not be so obedient.

Why did he leave so suddenly? For no good reason. He was Gryffindor in school; he is someone who was ready to sacrifice his life to save me a few days since, for no good reason except that he wished me not to die. He acts impulsively. He may have uncovered some maneuver of Narcissa’s or Draco’s that he did not understand. I will have to teach him to come to me about such matters, the way that he would have gone to them if he had something to complain about from my direction.

In the meantime, he needed to do something to find out why Harry had left, but he knew it might be dangerous for him to move from the bed. “Rogers,” he said aloud, and the house-elf was beside him before the last syllable had left his mouth. He arranged Lucius’s pillows with long, slender fingers, never looking away from his master’s face.

“Harry?” Lucius asked.

“Master Draco was wishing him to stay here,” Rogers said with perfect tranquility, though the lowering of his brows expressed which side of the argument he was on. “Master Harry was wishing to investigate information that only one of the other Healers could tell him. Master Draco then ordered Rogers to hold back and attend Master Harry, and make sure he stays in the house where he is not coming to harm. Master Harry grew offended and Apparated away.”

Straight through the wards, no less, Lucius thought with grudging respect. And I might have known it would be Draco’s fault.

“Send for my elder son,” he told Rogers. “I would like to speak with him.”

Rogers twitched his ears, as if surprised that he was not being ordered after Harry, but said only, “Very good, Master Lucius.”

*

Narcissa got the most sense out of an upset Draco when she waited for him to speak and then used her own alert mind to piece together the scattershot of his words later. So she held him whilst he sobbed and brayed out a tale of what had happened between Harry and him, and then she dismissed the original cause of the argument. The biggest problem at the moment was where Harry had gone and whether it was possible to retrieve him.

“He’s at St. Mungo’s, I’m sure of it.” Draco’s eyes were too bright and wide, the skin around them stretched and dry. “He said that was where he was going, and if he went back to his house, it would only be to gather up whatever materials he thought he needed to consult with this Healer Pontiff. And in hospital—” His hands clenched around Narcissa’s arms. “Mum, he could be killed.”

“Yes, he could be,” said Narcissa. “And we do not know if it is safe, yet, to go after him.” She drooped her eyelids closed for a moment, considering it, but each time she arrived back at the same conclusion. It would only be safe for her and Draco to go if they went together, and that would mean leaving Lucius behind the wards, with no protection save for house-elves. Lucius would do better in the position than either of them, being the patriarch of the Malfoy family whom the wards answered to, but Narcissa still did not like it.

And that, she could be angry at her son about. He could not have anticipated that Harry might choose to run into danger, but when he saw how close it was to happening, he should have remembered that it would badly tax the strength of the family to go after him and used more diplomatic responses.

She sat back and removed her arms from Draco. He blinked open his eyes and stared at her.

“This kind of impulsive stupidity I should have expected from Harry,” Narcissa told him, keeping her voice precise and level. “But I should not have expected it, or had to expect it, from you.”

Draco flinched as if he’d been slapped, and his eyes widened. Narcissa thought she was the only one who would ever know how much he hurt when his eyes looked like that. Harry, at least, did not seem to have noticed, and after what had happened between them today, he probably had less reason to want to notice.

“I didn’t know,” Draco whispered. “I thought that we were getting on so well, and that he’d see the good sense of staying within the house—“

“Harry Potter is not a toy or a pet, to do exactly as you want him to when you want him to do it,” Narcissa said. “Some people are, but not him. Why did you assume that he was a Malfoy already, Draco? When did you translate from using seduction to bring him in to using force?”

Draco flinched again. The words stung in a special way, Narcissa knew. Draco considered himself an accomplished seducer. He’d managed to charm his way into and succeed in the Potions mastery program when the people in charge of it had no reason to like the Malfoy family.

“I thought—“ Draco took a deep breath and started again. “I thought he was already there. If he’d really changed his mind about us and started to think in the same way we do, then an impulse of momentary stubbornness shouldn’t have made him leap like that.”

“He cannot be changed so quickly,” Narcissa said. She made her voice like small drops of water falling on a rock to wear it away, and Draco turned to face her window, scowling. “You have reason to understand Harry Potter’s stubbornness better than anyone else in this family, Draco. I am interested to know why your own knowledge betrayed you.”

Draco closed his eyes and bit his lip. Narcissa felt a moment of tenderness. Draco would never show himself this vulnerable in front of anyone else, not even Lucius. She doubted Harry would see this side of him for years, though Draco seemed to favor him as he had favored no other lover. It was a gift, that she knew when Draco was in such severe pain he couldn’t control himself any more.

But she could have wished, on this occasion, that there were greater reasons for deserving the gift than Draco’s idiocy.

“I wanted too much to make him mine,” Draco said in a low voice, and then his eyes opened. “And, Mother, he won’t protect himself! And his friends are too blind and involved in their own affairs to realize the mess he’s making of his life! Someone has to take over. I had to—“

“That was not the way, Draco,” Narcissa said. “Whilst I share your goal, I have found other ways to accomplish it.” Mostly by thinking long and deeply about the ways I can accomplish it without having Harry hate me forever, she thought, but she did not think Draco would understand what the words meant if she spoke them; he was more likely to latch on to the notion that Harry might hate him forever because of his mistake. “You should have taken me as a mentor.”

Draco bristled for a moment, then relaxed and said, “Even though you didn’t know he was abused?”

“What?” Narcissa said softly.

Draco nodded, his eyes hard little beads of satisfaction. It did not make him look attractive, and Narcissa would have scolded him for it if she were not so interested in hearing the information that he was trying to impart. “Yes. I received a copy of his medical report from school, thanks to Father’s friend Edward Leeds. He suffered from malnutrition, among others things, and from an absolute inability to trust adults, and I’ve seen for myself that he thinks all love for him is conditional, even if he can offer it unconditionally to others.”

Narcissa compressed her lips and sat backwards in the chair. This was another dilemma to wrestle with. The Muggles would surely deserve vengeance more than Emptyweed could, with his single headache curse, but once again, if she took it, she risked Harry’s hatred.

“Mother,” Draco said. “He survived that, and from the way he behaves, he expects to survive it still. He can’t trust us because we don’t behave like the Muggles. That’s his standard for a normal family. Can you blame me for acting more protective of him than I should have, when I knew that?”

“Yes,” Narcissa said, fixing him with a clear gaze that made him flinch again. “Then you knew that his perceptions of the world were likely to be even further from ours than those of a half-blood who made a sacrifice to gain entrance to our family, and yet you pushed. You have always been delicate at some best moments and forceful at the wrong ones, Draco.”

Draco drew himself up and started to respond, but Rogers appeared in the bedroom just then. Narcissa turned to face him. He would not have come and interrupted her privacy without a summons unless it was urgent.

“Master Lucius felt the tearing of the wards, and is having the story of Master Harry’s defection from Rogers,” said the elf, with a slight bow. “He is wanting to speak with Master Draco immediately.”

“Of course,” Draco muttered. “And he probably wants to scold me, too.”

“Can you say that you do not deserve scolding?” Narcissa arched her brows to convey how little she thought he should be able to say that.

He hunched his shoulders and scowled, but still, Narcissa was certain the point was made. And from the worry that distorted his face a moment later, he was suffering from a heavier punishment than she could inflict.

*

Draco was still haltingly trying to explain to Lucius what had happened when the Patronus burst through the wall of the bedroom. Draco knew in a glance that it was Harry’s. Being chased down by a glowing silver stag on the Quidditch pitch when you’d dressed up to play Dementor wasn’t something you forgot.

The stag bowed its head to them and spoke in Harry’s voice. “The attack on me in Grimmauld Place had something to do with the conspiracy against Lucius, and it’s connected to the highest reaches of the hospital hierarchy.” There was a desperate breathlessness to the words that Draco hated, especially when the stag reared and dissipated into shards of light.

“He’s threatened now,” Draco said, alive with the certainty of it. “He must be.” And he sent his stag to inform us about that first, instead of sending it to fetch help. Heroic, self-sacrificing idiot.

“And you cannot go to help him,” said Lucius, his face decidedly pale. Draco wished he could be sure if that was because of the danger to Harry or because of the news that Harry’s Patronus had just delivered. He knew what it was for him, but Lucius was more practical than he was—or at least, more concerned with the duties of a patriarch of the Malfoy family. “Not when you know nothing about the dangers involved, whether he is really in hospital or in Grimmauld Place, or whether our enemies are there in force at the moment.”

Draco closed his eyes. His love for Harry pulled against his father’s words, quivering like a plucked heartstring, but at the same time, the simple good sense in those words struck him like hammers. One didn’t dash out into danger without an excellent reason. At the moment, Draco had no way of estimating the odds, and certainly no way of planning an ambush.

But to know that Harry was in danger, and probably trying to face it alone, because that was the way he tended to handle things…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes and staring at his father. He meant he was sorry for showing weakness, rather than sorry for caring about Harry. He couldn’t apologize for that, and Lucius knew it. “But I want him the way I’ve never wanted anyone since I grew out of needing Mother.”

Narcissa rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment.

Lucius nodded. “And if you had remembered that in time, then perhaps you would not have spoken to him the way you did, and scattered his wits to the winds.”

My father, Draco thought, his eyes dull and aching with tears he would be mocked for shedding, may be less strong and less subtle than my mother, but when he has the advantage, he knows how to hit hard.

He swallowed through a throat as dry as his eyes, and said, “We have to have some means of gathering news. Through an owl or a Patronus of our own, but we have to have it.”

“Of course we do,” said Lucius. “I will leave my younger son to suffer the ordinary consequences of his actions, but not deadly consequences.” And he drew his wand and murmured a spell that made a dark shape form in front of him. Draco squinted, but he didn’t get a good look at it before it spread its wings and sailed through the wall. He only knew it wasn’t a Patronus.

He decided not to ask. It was probably one of the Malfoy family secrets that his father wasn’t obligated to pass on to anyone, even his heir, until he neared his deathbed. He folded his arms across his chest instead, bowed his head, and braced himself as if before a winter wind, to wait.

*

Lucius’s messenger returned soon enough, as Narcissa had known it would do. It perched on his arm and darted a black tongue into his ear, speaking words that his face did not change to reflect. When he had heard enough, he waved an arm and dissipated it into even less smoke than Harry’s Patronus had left behind.

He looked up, and in the moments before he spoke, Narcissa’s gaze crossed her son’s heartsick one. He needs Harry too much, she thought, with a slight frown. I wonder if that need is of longer standing than merely Harry’s becoming part of our family. It certainly seems to have sprung up suddenly if it is a new emotion.

“Harry is well,” Lucius said, with less roughness in his voice than Narcissa would have expected, given his disgust whenever Draco showed strong emotion. Perhaps he had realized as well as she had that this particular emotion was nothing to trifle with. He caught her eye for a moment, and the faint smile that touched her lips made her sure of it. “My messenger observed him recovering from battle in the company of Aurors. Apparently he was attacked in hospital, but escaped alive. The conspirators escaped by means of a spell that proves they must be connected to the St. Mungo’s administration,” Lucius added significantly. “No one else would have such power within the walls of the hospital itself.”

Draco nodded at once. “And when can I go to him?”

Lucius arched an eyebrow. “There would still be danger if you ventured out now, Draco. Another attack might occur. You know that.” He managed to make his voice mild and reproving at the same time. Draco flushed. “So you will take your mother with you,” Lucius added.

“Lucius,” Narcissa said, reminding him with that one word that he was still injured and would remain within the protection of the wards alone if she went.

Lucius bent a kind, keen glance on her. And Narcissa realized then that her hands were clenched, not folded, in front of her, and that she had locked her teeth on one portion of her lip some time since. She had betrayed her agitation at the realization that one of her children was in danger, and she had not even realized it.

“I will not let Draco venture into danger alone,” Lucius said calmly. “Neither will I lose Harry, who I do not think will return without persuasion. My danger is smaller behind wards and with Rogers with me than yours would be if either one of you went alone.”

Narcissa inclined her head, willing to agree with that, and then came forwards to kiss him. Draco turned his head away, flushing as if he were embarrassed, though that might be about the display of emotion more than the fact that it was his parents kissing in front of him.

Narcissa was sometimes reminded that she underestimated Lucius, and that he was cleverer than he looked, and that she had good reasons for the love and loyalty that bound them to each other.

Sometimes.

*

Draco had never realized how enormous the hospital could seem.

He had thought it would be easy enough to gain news of a sudden attack on Harry Potter, of all people, and that the invasion of Aurors into hospital would show up clearly. Instead, he met blank faces when he asked questions, and people shied away from him as if he were the herald of the attack instead of the follower, and those few who did seem to know something gave him harsh glances and found some excuse to hurry away down the corridor.

Draco knew better than to betray his frustration, of course. He walked beside his mother, who was his model in this as she was in so many things, and who never let the tenor of her voice or the curve of her lips alter when they encountered a baffle. She would nod, speak as graciously as if the person in question had given her the information she required, and turn away. Half the time they were called back, as shame and conscience got the better of the person they’d asked.

Draco was grateful that his parents had never trained that particular pair of virtues too strongly into him.

Knowing Harry had survived left Draco free of fear enough to concentrate on the words he would have to speak to win Harry back. He still did not think he had done entirely wrong, at least as far as his motives and intentions went, but the best test of that was the result of those motives and intentions, and that result had been staggeringly bad. And his mother’s words, and his father’s, and his frantic worry, had nearly flayed him alive.

He would speak carefully and gently, as carefully and gently as Harry needed him to speak. He would touch him with fleeting brushes of his hand, or not at all. He would step towards him and wrap an arm around his shoulders only if it was wanted. He would seek to charm with his eyes and his voice alone.

Harry couldn’t resist him forever. Draco knew he hadn’t mistaken the way those brilliant green eyes widened for him, and Harry had been the one to initiate the kiss the last time they were together.

Only a few hours ago, Draco’s memory reminded him, and Draco shivered. It seemed incredible. The fear had scored deep lines into his soul, lines that would guard against his being so stupid again.

And then he saw a man in unmistakable Auror robes leaning against a door ahead, and he sped up his steps.

I will be careful this time, he promised the image of Harry he carried in his mind. I won’t be stupid. I won’t offend him. I won’t lose him.

The imaginary Harry turned to stare at him with a jaundiced eye. Draco held his breath on a hiss and managed to speak politely to the Auror.

“Is Harry Potter here?” he asked.

The Auror pulled himself to his feet at once and surveyed Draco coolly. He must have recognized him, but he let no sign of respect enter his eyes. “That’s not your business,” he said.

Imperiousness could work with people like this, so Draco threw it into his voice. “I know he’s been attacked, and I demand that you let me see him. Mediwizard Potter is working privately with our family, and we’re owed some explanation as to what’s happened here.”

He heard a scuffle and a commotion as the Auror opened his mouth to respond. It was coming from behind the man. Draco frowned and started to step forwards, concerned that Harry might run out of the room before he could realize that Draco wanted to apologize. True, he hadn’t been very diplomatic to the Auror, but that man wasn’t a member of his family.

Perhaps Harry would even Apparate through the wards again. And then he would shut the Floo connection into Grimmauld Place, and try to consult with them about Lucius by owl, and his friends would be no help in persuading him to try and see Draco again.

Of course, those concerned thoughts continued only until he realized that his mother was gone from his side.

Draco smiled.

*

Narcissa stepped into the slant of light from an open door and faced her younger son. Harry stood with his head bowed for a moment, panting, and didn’t notice her. He had runnels of dried blood on his face and a certain stiffness in his muscles that indicated he’d been wounded at some point.

Narcissa ruthlessly suppressed the impulse to demand who had done this to him, that she might kill. Acting on their impulses where Harry was concerned had done her family no good.

And then Harry glared at her and said, “Look. I’m willing to give you the information I’ve found concerning the Mirror Maze on your husband. We can hold the consultation by Floo if you like. I was about to return to Grimmauld Place and firecall you to give you that choice. Or I can give you a Pensieve with my memories in them.”

Well, Narcissa thought, at least now I know what role I should play with him. He needs a good scolding for being stubborn and foolish, and I am just the mother to do it.

She was not so ignorant of her own emotions, even as she hardened her face and voice, as not to be aware of the little flare of relief in her soul. She was gladder than words could say that Harry was alive to bear a scolding.

And because she was aware of that, it led her to another realization.

Merlin, I need him, in a different way, as badly as Draco does.

And after the scolding must come the gentleness.

Chapter 23.

Comments

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

I think Harry isn't unkind so much as honest. He doesn't mean to cause Narcissa as much pain with his words as he does, after all. But yes, they do have that impact on her.

Lucius does have a certain perspective. Not always right, but always there. :)

Draco thinks that his way is the right way not because of tradition, but because it's practical. It will take him a long time to realize, if he ever does, that Harry has a different version of practicality.

I'm glad you like the way they work together. It's different for me to portray this sort of family dynamic, especially because I rarely write the Weasleys.

Thanks for commenting.