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lomonaaerenThank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-Four—What Is Tolerable
Draco leaned against the wall and gnawed on a knuckle. Harry had insisted on stopping by Number Twelve Grimmauld Place so that he could speak to his friends. Draco had to agree that they deserved to know what had happened to Harry in hospital, especially if their enemies decided to go after Weasley and Granger in retaliation for Harry’s actions.
And so far, he had even managed to fight the temptation to listen in.
“Draco.”
He started and looked up. His mother stood in front of him, holding one fold of her robes in hand. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him, but what she found that was objectionable, Draco couldn’t reckon.
“You know we must be careful of Harry when we have him back in the Manor,” she cautioned him. “We do not want to alienate him again.”
“Do you think it would be that easy, when he’s accepted that we care for him?” Draco smiled at his mother. “Revealing that we liked him was a stroke of genius, by the way. That matters to him more right now than love, which I don’t think he would believe in, anyway.”
Narcissa moved one hand in a deprecating gesture, but Draco could make out the faint blush along her cheeks. “Perhaps it was,” she said, “but yes, we could still lose him, Draco. At the moment, he is in an extremely fragile state, uncertain whom to trust—uncertain, perhaps, that there is any secure place whereon to rest his trust. We must encourage the strength of his attachments to us, and not their fragility.” Her eyes grew so sharp that Draco couldn’t turn away, as if they were sticking him to the wall like the pins that Muggles stuck through insects. “That is why we cannot risk another argument like the one that you had with him.”
It was difficult, but Draco managed to incline his head. “Yes. I know that.”
“Do you?” Narcissa laid her free hand on her hip and surveyed him slowly. “I would have thought you had known it in the first place, but that did not prevent you from driving him away once.”
Draco licked his lips. He was glad, now, that Harry had left them alone for a time, because he thought the brand of embarrassment on his face would leave permanent marks there. “Mother.”
“Yes?”
Draco stiffened under her continually cold tone. He managed to recall his pride and reach down for it where it lurked at the bottom of his heart. And at last he was standing straight and meeting her eye-to-eye, exactly as if he had nothing to be ashamed of at all.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “But I was also part of the reason that we won him back. I wish that you would not chastise me for a fault that I have made up for.”
Narcissa studied him with shadowed eyes for a moment. Then she said, “Made up for, but not mastered. I would make sure that it does not happen again.”
“I can control my impulse to tell Harry what I think of his dashing into danger,” Draco said dryly.
“And how will you do that?”
“By making our home so attractive for him that he will have fewer impulses to do so,” said Draco. “By ensuring that he thinks more of healing Lucius and less of risking himself for the sake of other people. I know much more about Potions than he does. He will need my help to research dreambane.”
Narcissa’s eyes were still shadowed. “And you think that will be enough?”
“If it’s not,” Draco said, and he knew his breath was coming heavy and his eyes were flashing but he didn’t care, “then I’ll do something else. I do mean to win and keep him, Mother, and I’ll do all that’s graceful and right and balanced in the pursuit of him. I don’t need my mother, who’s not the one doing the courting, telling me how to go about it.”
A moment later, he feared he had gone too far. Narcissa’s face was pale, and her eyes were traveling raptly over him, as if she expected to see something alien and ugly there. But he had had to say it.
He was sorry for what he had done. That did not include, however, giving apologies to anyone but Harry, especially since he did not think apologies would stop the ice-edged words that his mother was flinging at him. He held her gaze and neither flinched or looked away.
*
Narcissa held Draco’s gaze with the stillness and shock he would expect of her after an outburst like that, but inside, within the secret places of her heart that neither Lucius nor Draco would ever see, she held pride.
This is what he needs. He cannot yield to Harry too simply, because yielding will not capture the attention of someone like Harry Potter. He needs the strength and resolve to stand up to him and seduce him at the same time, and if it is anger at me that must fuel that strength, so be it.
It was a crude method, and so one that Narcissa would have ordinarily disdained. But they had little time before Harry came back from his conversation with his friends. Narcissa did not think Weasley and Granger deficient in understanding, whatever Draco might contend. They would understand almost at once that Harry was putting himself in danger, or had been in danger in the recent past, and they might well collaborate in trying to dissuade Harry from spending any more time with the Malfoys.
You must hold stern against the disapproval of the world, Draco, which will not want to see the Chosen One dating a former Death Eater and the son of a Death Eater, she thought, gazing at Draco. I know you can do that. But you will also need to hold firm against the persuasions of his friends, and against Harry’s exasperating tendencies, and against the way that your father and I will try to make things better between you but will end by making things worse because we do not understand enough about your relationship.
I will give you the strength to do that. I will give you the strength to foil us in my saner moments, even if I change my mind afterwards.
No greater gift can I give.
*
To Draco it seemed like months before Harry descended from the first floor of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, his face pale and quiet, thoughtful. He took his arm and guided him out the door, clinging close as if he merely wanted to breathe Harry’s scent. He thought that Harry would find his real, doubled motives—supporting Harry in case he fell and making sure he didn’t get away—insulting.
Nevertheless, they were there. Draco had no intention of letting either happen, ever. The thought of Harry dead had fired his nerves, and then he understood in ice-sharp clarity what he was feeling.
I can’t bear to let him come close to death again, if only for the sake of my sanity.
Harry took the Side-Along Apparition well, but swayed a little as they came through the front doors of the Manor. Draco had expected that, and moved closer to him so that, if he collapsed, he would collapse into Draco’s arms. Instead, Harry adjusted his stride, as if he was used to walking about with wounds and his movements to soothe pain or live with injuries had become instinctive.
Draco refrained from grinding his teeth, but it was a near thing. Must he do anything rather than ask for help?
Of course, with a childhood like the one he appears to have had in the Muggles’ untender care, perhaps it is not so surprising.
Draco considered that in the moment before a house-elf appeared and his mother turned aside to speak with it. But no less exasperating, he decided. That means that I still have the right to get offended and upset by Harry’s behavior, as long as I don’t show it in a way that drives him away.
Narcissa turned back, a faint smile on her face that was, according to Draco’s expertise in reading his mother, real. “The elves spiked his soup with a sleeping draught,” she said, and Draco blinked for a moment before he realized that she was speaking of Lucius instead of having plucked his secret plans for Harry out of his mind. “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.”
Draco took in her downcast gaze, the way her lashes fluttered around her eyes, and the pulse beating in her throat, and wanted to laugh. Perfect, Mother. You couldn’t have conjured an image that Harry would less want to violate. He’ll still be vulnerable from that confrontation we had in hospital, but as anxious not to injure.
“The location was never a problem,” Harry said. His voice was stiff and uncomfortable, and he had half-extended one hand to Narcissa, before hesitating and dropping it back to his side. Draco wondered why. Perhaps he feared to offer assistance when that would remind them that he was injured, too, but Draco didn’t think he could trust that much in Harry’s good sense.
“Would you prefer a different set?” Draco asked. He draped one arm around Harry’s shoulders and drew him close, the better to check Harry’s balance and comfort himself with the sensation of warm life at once. “That’s what she means. We didn’t consult your choice when we put you in those rooms, and I remember the decorating scheme bothers you.” He began to stroke the small of Harry’s back, and was rewarded by seeing a gentle flutter in his eyelashes, as if he were fighting sleep.
Fighting it, of course. But at least he can respond to soothing gestures.
“I—no, thank you,” Harry said, and however graceful his face was, his voice was stumbling and awkward. Draco thought he could reckon his thoughts. Perhaps he would have preferred a different set of rooms when he first entered the house, but he hadn’t been offered the choice, and now he didn’t want to cause trouble by asking for extra ones.
Harry didn’t know that Draco was practically reading his thoughts at this point, though, so he bit his lip and tried earnestly to explain. “It bothered me because I wasn’t used to it,” he said. “And because I had to wonder about your motives.”
He is very honest, Draco had to admit. It’s hard to imagine hidden motives there—but of course there are the motives hidden even from himself, like that wish for unconditional love when at the same time he’s always seeking out the conditions placed on it.
His mother looked up at Harry, with a melting, confiding look that Draco could last remember her wearing in sincerity when he was about four years old. “I trust you know them better now?” she whispered.
Harry trembled a little, which Draco could feel through the arm around his shoulders, and swallowed. “Yeah, I do,” he said. His chin jerked once or twice, as if he thought about lowering his head and looking away from Narcissa’s gaze, but in the end his eyes stayed steady, locked to hers. “Thank you. The rooms are beautiful. I’m sure I’ll get more used to them as time goes on.”
Draco tightened his arm around his shoulders. Whether Harry realized it or not, his words sounded like a promise to stay in the Manor. From the abrupt look Harry gave him a moment later, he hadn’t realized it.
“If you want to join Father,” Draco said then, “I’ll make sure Harry reaches his bed properly.”
His mother leaned forwards, her eyes looking as steadily into his as they had a moment before looked into Harry’s, and her hand touched his cheek. Draco understood the silent message. You can trust yourself to be alone with him now, and not say something stupid?
Draco answered as strongly as he could, given that Harry was right there, with a slow blink and a slight tilt of his head. A moment later, Narcissa had turned aside and touched Harry’s cheek, then left up the main staircase, which at least showed she was satisfied. Harry bit his lip as he stared after her, hand trembling. He seemed to want to touch the spot on his face, as if he couldn’t believe she had given him an affectionate gesture.
Draco made another vow in that moment. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll have come as near to taking them for granted as he can.
He had never felt such a strong compulsion to spoil a lover before. Of course, most of the lovers he’d taken came from pure-blood families near as rich as his, and so the exercise had been more one of tempting a jaded palate. But to Harry, everything was new, and Draco wanted to see him rejoice in it—if he could only persuade Harry that rejoicing was permitted.
Of course, Harry could take as much delight in the unelaborate as the elaborate, and Draco wanted to give that to him if it was what he actually wanted, as opposed to what he thought he should say he wanted for politeness’s sake. So, when Narcissa was out of sight, he whispered into Harry’s hair. “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 hesitated a moment to find a word that wouldn’t sound insulting, then reminded himself Harry was unlikely to see these words as insulting. “Plainer? Simpler?”
Harry yawned, making his nose crinkle and Draco feel as if he wanted to fall over, and said, “At the moment, anything sounds good if it has a bed in it.”
Draco smiled, brushed his fingers against Harry’s shoulder, and then guided them towards the stairs. But Harry stopped when he’d put his foot on the bottom stair, and his stern gaze made Draco’s smile falter.
“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 at him. For a moment, he considered what restrictions Harry’s words didn’t cover, and wondered if he might be able to get away with them. But Harry’s eyes sharpened, and Draco realized that his wavering had been seen. He drove his fingers into his palms and nodded to Harry. “I understand.”
“Good,” Harry said, blinking a little, as if he had thought he’d have to fight much harder to win any sort of independence.
He blinked, and yawned, and leaned against Draco as they made their way up the stairs. Draco kept himself from wriggling or shouting in triumph by reminding himself that Harry might not realize what he was doing. He didn’t want to disrupt the precious warmth or the trust that Harry seemed to have in him.
In fact, he realized suddenly, the thought that Harry might stop trusting him again at some point in the future was actively painful.
I only wish I had some better idea what he was thinking, and whether he would feel the same way if I showed my mistrust of him, he thought, looking down into Harry’s face.
*
Draco saw Rogers as they stepped into Harry’s bedroom. He propped Harry against the wall, hoping that wouldn’t make him feel like a piece of broken furniture, and dropped to one knee in front of Rogers. The elf contracted his ears and hissed like a cat; he hated even the appearance of a Master submitting to him.
At the moment, Draco didn’t care. He needed to show Harry how sorry he was for his mistakes of the past, and that they would not be repeated, no matter the temptation.
“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.”
There. How can he object to anything in that spiel?
“Master Harry Potter is needing something else at the moment,” Rogers said, sniffing the air and peering at Harry. As usual with orders he didn’t like, he gave no sign of acknowledgment, though Draco knew he would obey implicitly. “Master Harry Potter has been walking around without the healing potions he needs, because Master Harry Potter is being an idiot.”
Draco whirled to his feet immediately; he didn’t even remember the individual muscle movements that caused him to rise. The panic that had seized his throat was that sudden and that sure. Harry blinked at him as if he didn’t understand what the fuss was about.
Bloody Merlin, Harry. I thought you had only minor injuries, not ones that required potions. Why didn’t you get yourself Healed, since you were in hospital, of all places?
“You’re hurt?” he demanded, and went to Harry’s side. “Why didn’t you say so before I dragged you up all those stairs? Harry…”
His voice trailed off. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that would convey his anguish at perhaps having increased Harry’s pain, and he couldn’t touch Harry anywhere in case he aggravated the hidden injuries.
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 looked at Harry as coolly as he’d regarded Draco’s occasional pet Kneazle when it urinated in the Manor.
“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.” His voice had an intolerably prissy sound at that moment, Draco thought, his heart thudding irregularly between irritation and love, as though what the Healer he had consulted didn’t know wasn’t worth knowing.
“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.” In reality, he thought he knew which one would work best, but he wasn’t going to presume on his Potions expertise in front of Harry. Showing that he could be humble and seek the counsel of others would help Harry to decide that he could trust him.
“Master Draco is being disingenuous,” said Rogers, and flicked him a glance that made Draco flinch. Luckily, Harry didn’t seem to take any notice, at least not through any gesture more violent than the twitch of an eyelid. “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 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 words limped. He was looking at Draco, and for the first time, Draco thought he could see discomfort and remorse in his eyes. He seemed to recognize, finally, that someone who was not one of his friends or this mysterious Healer he trusted might care about him.
Draco didn’t say anything for long moments, because he didn’t trust his voice not to quiver traitorously. He reached out and trailed his fingers in random stretches across Harry’s face. Scar, nose, eyes, stubborn chin…they might all have gone the way of dust and Voldemort if Rogers had not said something.
“Do you know who they were?” he asked at last, when he could trust himself not to curse the air.
“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.”
That much confirms what Lucius’s messenger said. I think he’s telling the truth.
“Hmm,” Draco said, and breathed out the sound so that he could reassure Harry. Thoughts of bloody vengeance would not be soothing to Harry at the moment.
The soothing must have been more effective than he thought. Harry sat down on the bed as if he had finally decided to admit his weakness and stared at Draco. Draco touched his ears, needing one final reassurance himself that Harry had escaped with those unclipped. 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 left for his potions lab.
He did not linger long there, deliberately; God knew what Harry would take it into his head to do the moment he was alone. And he did know which potion was the most effective. Perhaps it was not the best trick to lie in front of a house-elf, he thought wryly, as he seized it from the shelf and sped back to Harry’s rooms.
“Here’s the potion.”
Harry was lying back on the pillows, his eyes opening reluctantly. Draco stood still for a moment, looking at him. It seemed as though it were the most precious thing in the world, that he’d been privileged to see Harry’s weakness.
Harry gave a small sigh, as though he found his inability to sit up irritating but didn’t want to complain about it now. “Help me drink it, please?” he said.
Draco had to wait long moments before he could subdue the wondering tremor in his limbs—Harry asking for help—and go forwards. He wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, the way he’d done in the entrance hall of the Manor, and lifted him away from the pillows. Harry gave a whinge, as if he actually mourned the loss of comfort, but opened his mouth for the potion obediently, and swallowed all of it.
“At least, maybe they are,” Harry mumbled. “And I wouldn’t know because I never passed my Potions exam.”
The potion’s taken him. And Draco at last felt safe to say the words he had repressed so far, because he knew Harry wouldn’t resent them under the sway of the potion as he would if he were totally conscious.
“I like doing this,” he murmured. He tried to raise his voice, but it stayed at the same level, as if he knew by instinct what the best volume was. “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. That won him a smile. Draco pulled back slowly, reluctant to leave and yet not wishing to push Harry further than he was comfortable with. “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 and rolled his neck from side to side in inquiry.
“I like doing things for anyone I like,” Draco said, somewhat defiantly, because he wasn’t about to let Harry start up with what a burden he found himself. “And now you have me talking like you. Merlin.” His arms tightened, and he nuzzled his way into Harry’s hair, soaking in bursts of scent from his skin and not ashamed to admit it, now. “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.” That was not entirely how things had happened, but it was true that he’d taken longer telling Narcissa the truth in a coherent manner than he should have, and it was what he felt probably should be true. His stupid pride had been the cause of this as much as Harry’s stupid pride.
“I was all right,” Harry said.
“You could have died!” Draco’s voice snapped in spite of himself. 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.”
Terror clawed at him a moment later. He was revealing so much of himself, and for what? Could he even be sure that Harry would respond to the revelation as he was intended to do, instead of protesting against the care?
And then Harry said, “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” and Draco began to breathe again. “But I don’t think there’s anything else I could have done. You were wrong.”
“Not about the danger.” Draco would not let Harry forget that.
Harry yawned. “You got that right by accident.”
“Yes,” Draco whispered, and kissed him again.
Harry lay pliant beneath him, mouth open and tongue tangling lazily around Draco’s. Draco sated his longing to kiss him at last, running a hand over his face and licking and lipping at the corners of Harry’s mouth and at his gums. Once he tangled his hand rather harshly through Harry’s hair, but that won him only a low, drugged moan.
And then Draco found himself babbling, rather as if he were under the potion and not Harry.
“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 because you make me feel alive with the constant challenge. I can think of other things besides just Father’s illness, which would be all that was on my mind if you weren’t here, and studying for my Potions mastery.
“I’d missed Hogwarts, do you know that? Missed the challenge that came from Quidditch games, missed studying other subjects, missed having friends who were less smart than I was to care for and lead around by the nostrils. You’ve given me something of that back again, but now I’m an adult and can appreciate it properly. And of course I do look forwards to having you about for other reasons. You’re beautiful, Harry. I want to see what you can do when you’re in a stronger position and can take care of me. Do you know, I think you’re the first person I could ever have genuinely fallen in love with? I never thought I would have what Father and Mother have, and here you are.”
Draco realized then, from Harry’s gentle breathing, that he was asleep. He didn’t care. He’d needed this release as much as Harry did.
He lowered his head and continued speaking the words into Harry’s hair, words of wonder, words of love.
Chapter 25.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-29 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-29 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-29 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-29 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-30 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:18 am (UTC)And, well. It will probably reach 30 chapters, if only because of how the damn scenes lengthen.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-30 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:18 am (UTC)For Their Unconquerable Souls 24
Date: 2008-12-30 02:38 am (UTC)You've included one of my most favourite things... one partner whispering words of love whilst the other is asleep (or unconscious).
*love love love* Draco's whispering to Harry as he sleeps...
words of wonder, words of love
I'm enjoying this story and am looking forward to reading more.
Thnaks!
Re: For Their Unconquerable Souls 24
Date: 2009-01-01 04:18 am (UTC)I have a slight kink for that, too, but it seems that in most cases the partner turns out to be awake after all and so hears the words. I prefer it when they're genuinely asleep.
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Date: 2008-12-30 02:55 am (UTC)“Master Draco is being disingenuous,”
I LOVE Rogers!! Harry and Draco were pretty good in this, too:)
no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:19 am (UTC)I swear, I seem to have created a really sympathetic OC with that house-elf, and it wasn't even my intention!
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Date: 2008-12-30 10:57 pm (UTC)Draco's monologue was an interesting insight into him, and his life 'before'. It was also a beautiful articulation on his feelings towards Harry.
Narcissa was again a star.
I don't seem to comment about Harry much, do I? I don't even really have anything to say now. He's so enegmatic, but I suppose that it is largely because this is from the Malfoy's POV.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:19 am (UTC)And, well, this is the Malfoys' story. I think, in a way, they are easier to understand than Harry despite their very alien viewpoint because they know their own selves and motives so much better. Harry contradicts himself constantly without realizing it.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 11:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-01 04:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 07:29 pm (UTC)I loved watching Draco bear his soul to Harry like that - If only he had stayed awake!!!
And more love to Rogers, who is just class.