Chapter Twenty-Six of 'Soldier's Welcome'- Night of Falling Stars

[lomonaaeren]

Title: Soldier’s Welcome (26/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Rating: R
Pairings: Harry/Draco preslash, Ron/Hermione
Warnings: Violence (and plenty of it), profanity, references to sex, takes account of DH but ignores the epilogue, heavy angst.
Summary: It’s the first year of Auror training for Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and…Draco Malfoy, But with Hagrid, Snape’s second Pensieve, rogue Death Eaters, Auror classes, and someone trying to start a second war to worry about, Harry might not have the time to pay that much attention to Malfoy. At first, anyway.
Author’s Notes: This story is the first in a trilogy called Running to Paradise, which takes its title from a W. B. Yeats poem. Each story will be novel-length, and each will cover a year of Harry and Draco’s training as Aurors. Though there are a lot of fics out there about them acting as Auror partners, there aren’t as many about their training, so I hope to cover some original ground there. I’m indebted to a reader named SP777 for suggesting a training fic for me to write.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Six—Night of Falling Stars

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s a brilliant idea.” Draco stepped back behind Harry and cocked his head critically. Harry could see the motion in the mirror he was facing. He tried to catch Draco’s eye and let him see how uncomfortable he was with this—not that Harry didn’t want to help the investigation, because he did, but maybe it would be better to wait a little while and build up his confidence—but Draco was frowning down at Harry’s robes and didn’t notice. Harry had no idea what was wrong with his robes. Draco reached out and gave a quick dusting motion across his back, then nodded. “There. Perfect.”

Harry looked at himself worriedly in the mirror. He wore dark robes, almost black but not quite; they shimmered deep brown in the light when he moved. Narcissa had said something about them being the color of his hair. Harry had bitten his lip to avoid replying that, to look like his hair, the robes should really be dusty and covered with tangles.

A single large brooch held the robes closed at his throat, although there was also a line of tiny gold buttons. (Harry had no idea how he would get them undone if he needed to go to the loo). The brooch was large, dark gold and ornamented with a dozen twining snakes, all of them with fanged mouths fastened around the ruby in the center. Harry was sure the ruby was worth a dozen fortunes, which meant he would probably break it or get it stolen before the evening was over.

To make it worse, Draco had fastened a dark green cloak over the robes. Tiny golden pins shaped like rearing unicorns held the tips of the cloak to the brooch. Draco said the whole ensemble was dashing.

It might make people dash themselves to the ground with laughter, Harry thought, and wriggled uncomfortably.

“Stop fidgeting,” Draco said, with an authority in his voice that Harry had only heard him exercise about clothes so far. “You look wonderful, and everyone’s going to want to dance with you.”

“Dance?” Harry asked in horror. He spun around to face Draco. “You never said anything about dancing. We were just going to go to this Abrane Hall and see what we could learn about Nihil from them, you said, because he was sure to have approached them.”

Draco gave him a reassuring smile that Harry was much less disposed to find reassuring since Draco had mentioned dancing. “You don’t have to do it. You can look cold and dignified as you refuse them, and that will attract more attention to you and bring other people up to ask questions.”

Harry blinked. “But wouldn’t I look rude?”

“No, of course not.” Draco was speaking patiently now, apparently because any pure-blood child five-year-old would have understood what he meant, and yet Harry kept missing it. “The more proud you are, the more they’ll be intrigued and wonder what you have to offer them—at least if you have some reason to be proud, which you most certainly do. It wouldn’t work for someone like Weasley.” He sneered. Harry opened his mouth to defend Ron, but Draco was continuing, his eyes sparking coldly as he looked past Harry’s head and apparently at something in the distance. “They’ll offer something of themselves, bits of information, in hope that you’ll give them gifts of gossip in return, or some in with you.”

Harry swallowed bile. “And all pure-bloods like this kind of gossip and chattering?” he asked, revolted.

Draco laughed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with pure-bloods in particular, though most of the people we’ll see at the Abranes’ party will be pure-bloods,” he said. “This is politics, Potter.” Harry winced. He had started disliking the fact that Draco still called him by his last name, but Harry didn’t want to force him into intimacy he didn’t feel ready for, either. “This is the way politics are played. You talk and make connections and strengthen relationships that are already in place. You make exchanges. No one has to know what kind of exchange we’re looking for until we’re ready to reveal it, mind.” He gave Harry a warning look.

“I know that,” Harry said irritably. “I’m hardly about to walk to the front of the room and proclaim that we’re looking for connections to Nihil.”

“I know, but there are other things you could give away with just as much ease to the people who are looking for them.” Draco shook his head.

“This is why this isn’t a good idea,” Harry said. “I’m not trained to do this kind of thing. I don’t know how to behave.” He reached up to unfasten the brooch at his throat.

Draco grabbed his wrist and stepped close. Harry swallowed. Since he had admitted to Draco that he wanted to give and not just take—an admission so powerful and damaging he could hardly believe he’d made it, sometimes—he had noticed that he got dizzy around Draco a lot more easily. It was like he’d given himself permission to notice that Draco was an attractive man or something.

“You’ll do fine,” Draco murmured. “Mother and I both trust you to smile and shake your head if you don’t know what to say. Looking mysterious is always a good idea. Don’t drink much wine. Refuse all the invitations to dance. Sigh and look pensive if you have no idea what else to do. That will convince people you’re hiding something important.”

Harry sighed. “All right, fine.”

“I’m so pleased that you’re being gracious about this,” Draco said in an overly bright voice, and shooed him out of the room before Harry could make any response. He still had to get dressed, and apparently that was a procedure that would take some time. Harry went, shaking his head.

I think he’s wrong. I can try to look mysterious or shady or as though I have secrets to hide, but I’m not good at controlling my expression or lying. I couldn’t even tell Draco lies about what happened when Nihil started to turn my magic into grief magic, though I think he was upset about the fact that I tried to die.

If he was, though, he hadn’t given any sign of it. Harry shrugged the thought off and sat down to make small talk with Narcissa in the little anteroom where the house-elves had placed him while they waited for Draco.

*

Draco blinked and shook his head to clear his mind from the lingering aftereffects of Apparition. He looked towards Abrane Hall with a sense of anticipation that he wouldn’t reveal even to his mother. It was true that he hadn’t been here often, and he might be exaggerating his memories in his eagerness, but every year the Abranes gave a spectacular Solstice party with a different theme. Draco wanted to know what the theme would be this year.

He caught his breath when he realized it. The house had been transformed into what looked like an earth-bound constellation of stars by the clever use of lamps, fairy lights, fires, and, no doubt, glamours; Draco didn’t think there was any natural light that would shed that specific kind of gentle white illumination from some of the “stars.” The bulk of stone and wood that made up Abrane Hall had vanished into airiness that looked as though the visitors could have walked through it.

In the sky overhead, unnaturally bright stars turned, forming the most familiar constellations. Draco looked up at them with some admiration. It was one thing to fasten a spell like that on the roof of a building, where it would give you solid grounding to work with, and another thing altogether to attempt it with an expanse of open air. Draco wondered for a moment what bindings they had used, and then chuckled and attempted to relax and enjoy it. He didn’t think not knowing the source of the Abranes’ complicated spell would be dangerous.

Probably.

When he looked down again, he found Potter eying him sideways, with a hungry expression that he probably didn’t realize he was revealing. Draco controlled his own preening reaction and nodded towards the house. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Yes,” said his mother, rustling decisively past him. She was clad in pale robes that made her look like a queen of snow and went well with the starlight. “I simply cannot wait to greet Cynthia Abrane again. There are so many things I wish to say to her!” She walked ahead down the path, her eyes moving from side to side. Draco was comfortable having here there. He knew she would do her best to spot social traps, as well as people Potter definitely should not talk to, and warn them in time.

He and Potter followed her down the path of crushed white stone that curved and dipped over the small hills towards Abrane Hall with a glimmer like moonlight, though Potter watched Draco more often than he did the curves of the path. Draco had to work hard to hide a smile.

The robes he had chosen were simpler than the ones he had given Potter; it was in the quality of the cloth that their beauty showed, not in the sheer richness of color. His were the shimmering blue-green of the eyes in a peacock’s tail, though without the tawdry glitter of the natural bird, subdued rather than glaring when they caught the light. The blue would give some color to his pale skin—paler than Draco wished it to be right now, mostly the effect of long study and worry about Potter in the past few days—and make his hair appear blond instead of white. Draco thought his hair was shifting slowly in the direction of white, and he would endeavor to look distinguished and exotic when it finally hit. But for the present, there was nothing wrong about seeming to be crowned with gold.

The large ornamental brooch that secured his robes and cloak was not ostentatious like the one that clasped Potter’s, either. Small and made of silver rather than gold, it depicted long-winged birds wheeling around a sapphire. Draco wondered how many people tonight would realize that the birds, from the shape of their crests and talons, had to be phoenixes, and that the brooch was a statement of its own.

“You remember what we talked about,” he said to Potter, to get his mind off his clothes. Potter was so struck by them that Draco was in danger of forgetting about their real purpose if he lingered on them too long.

Potter nodded and snapped his eyes forwards again. Perhaps he had realized he was staring, too. “I pause when we step through the door, so that everyone can get a good look at me. Then I go immediately to some corner and wait there for people to come up and talk.” He grimaced and raised a hand to swipe through his hair. Draco rolled his eyes. They hadn’t been able to do anything with Potter’s hair anyway, so forbidding him the gesture was useless.

Still… “Doing that makes dandruff fall on your shoulders, you know,” Draco told him. “And it really shows up against the dark color of those robes.”

Potter shot him an outraged look, and Draco felt as though the path had become more solid under his feet. This was the truth of their relationship, not the dreamy half-romantic glances Potter had given him. “I do not have dandruff, Malfoy,” he hissed.

Draco gave him a pitying stare and shrugged. “Whatever lie enables you to live with yourself, Potter.”

Potter would probably have answered, but just then the stars overhead swirled and began to fall.

Draco jerked to a stop, his breath catching, and stared. The stars descended like a snowfall, breaking out of their constellations to form new and glittering ones that puffed apart a moment later like the dust from broken glass. Where they touched the grass, or appeared to touch the grass, fountains of light arose, shuddering and tossing themselves like the manes of beautiful pale horses. Draco had to swallow, his eyes stinging against the sheer beauty of the sight.

As new stars opened above their heads, blossoming like flowers made of silver, Draco heard Potter mutter something that sounded like, “I didn’t know that you could use magic like that.”

Draco managed to recover from his trance and give Potter a superior look. “I’d wager that you didn’t think wizards like the Abranes would use it for anything beyond torturing people and getting themselves more money.”

A frown settled itself into place on Potter’s lips, and he didn’t reply as they walked up the stairs to the Hall. Draco didn’t mind. It was no bad idea for Potter to appear in the party first with a disapproving look; it might mean the other people there would put themselves through their paces trying to please him.

*

Harry shifted in his robes and gave the most polite smile he could muster to the bloke in front of him, who had introduced himself as some sort of Abrane relative and was chattering on about broomsticks. He’d probably heard that Harry played Quidditch at Hogwarts and assumed that was all he would want to talk about. Harry let his eyes wander away from the man’s face and around the interior of Abrane Hall.

The party was being held in a single enormous room that might have taken up the entire house for all Harry knew. It was larger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The walls were black, dotted with enough ripples of light and shadow to give the impression that they were standing outside beneath a full moon.

Or so Draco had said, and Harry had no reason to doubt him. The fact that he hadn’t been able to figure that out for himself just showed how out-of-place he was at a function like this. He wasn’t meant for it. Draco was.

Harry felt his head pulled around in a circle. He knew exactly where Draco was standing at any given moment, as if they were tied together. And maybe they were, by the compatible magic, but Harry didn’t think it could account for this.

Draco was holding court in the middle of a circle of admirers. Maybe a pure-blood would have been able to read something from their body language, maybe they weren’t as accepting as they seemed, but from what Harry could see, they wanted nothing more than to get under Draco’s robes—and maybe inside his pants.

Harry firmed his grasp on his wineglass and took a deep breath. He had no right to think like that. So what if that was what they wanted? Draco had a perfect right to choose one of them. The fact that he could, just like he could describe the effects of magic the Abranes were going for with a glance, only showed Harry how thoroughly he didn’t belong in this world.

Or with Draco.

“I think you’re bored with me.”

Harry started and brought his eyes back to the face of the bloke in front of him. After a minute of struggle, he managed to remember his name—Jarvis. “No, Jarvis, not at all,” Harry said hastily, and Jarvis beamed. Probably because I remembered his name, Harry thought in disgust and despair. Having Harry Potter notice you is somehow worth more than having other people do it.

“But something’s wrong.” Jarvis gave him a little nod and snapped his fingers. A smooth, slim glass carafe of wine appeared beside him, and he poured a stream of it into Harry’s glass. “Tell me about it.”

Harry lifted his glass to his mouth and made it look like he was taking a large swallow. That was one of the few things Draco had drilled Harry on before he let him go to this party. He said that Harry had to convince people he was more drunk than he really was. Harry had learned his lesson well. Probably, at least, if the small, satisfied smile that Jarvis gave him was any clue.

“Well.” Harry decided that he would use a tiny sliver of the truth. He just wasn’t good enough at lying, and a direct invitation to talk meant that he couldn’t stand around looking silent and mysterious. “I’m not that interested in Quidditch anymore. Not interested in the kinds of things that should interest me anymore.” He shook his head helplessly. “Ever since the end of the war, and almost dying…it changes my perspective on things.”

That was part of the truth. The rest of the truth was more complicated, tried up with Auror training, and Draco, and Ginny, and the way that Harry sometimes felt as though the world was pulling him into rags to make a dozen different cloaks, but Jarvis didn’t need to know about that.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Harry looked up and blinked. Jarvis was leaning towards him with his teeth and eyes shining, and he was nodding furiously, too, as though he wanted his head to fall off his neck before the end of the evening. Harry hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response, and had no idea what to do. “Were you in the war, too?” he asked, a little lamely, because it was all he could think of to say.

Jarvis chuckled. “No. My family stayed neutral. But you could say that I’ve learned a little about life and death since then.” He gave Harry a deep, significant glance. Harry managed to keep from grinding his teeth together, but it was hard. This is why you should have stayed with me, Draco, you bastard. This is probably important, but I have no idea what to do to make him trust me.

“Really,” he said, and sipped from his wine, and tried to look thoughtful and mysterious, the way Draco had advised. Whether he was successful or not, Jarvis took the bait.

“Yes.” Jarvis leaned further towards him. Harry had assumed his breath would smell of wine, but it smelled of dust instead. “The Dark Lord was afraid of death. He was a fool. The problem is that, if you go through death, either most of you doesn’t survive, or it survives in a form like a ghost, where you can’t really influence and you don’t care about the world.” He waved a hand, and Harry saw the passion glowing in his eyes and prepared for a long lecture. “You follow me so far?”

Harry nodded.

“But if you can ensure that part of you goes through death and survives, so that death is just another kind of transformation, like falling in love or being born or growing up, then it’s not terrifying. And if you can control that transformation, and where the changed part of you ends up…” Jarvis shrugged and lowered his eyes in what Harry thought was supposed to be a sort of display of modesty. He hadn’t seen anything so false since Dudley pretended that he didn’t want his parents to praise him. “You understand?”

“It sounds fantastic,” Harry said. His heart was beating hard. He was thinking of the way that Nihil seemed to specialize in transforming people and twisting animals, and the way that his magic had begun to alter when he’d felt Nihil trying to change it into grief magic. He had been certain, somehow, that he would survive what Nihil was doing to him, but he wouldn’t survive it as himself; he would become Nihil’s minion, the way the “Death Eaters” they faced in the interrogation rooms had.

Yes, what Jarvis was talking about had to have something to do with Nihil.

“I know.” Jarvis waved a hand again, but this time he touched Harry’s wrist and slipped something into his fingers. From the thickness and the way it crackled, Harry thought it was a piece of parchment. “Think about it, all right? I’m sure that there are certain people who would be interested in meeting you. Nusquam, for one.” He gave a little bow and then walked away.

Harry licked his lips. Nusquam was Latin, and he thought it meant “nowhere.” He slid the parchment into his robe pocket. He didn’t want to open it here, where all kinds of people might see and maybe use charms to read the paper the Chosen One was staring at so intently.

He was too excited to stand still and drink wine anymore, though. He started towards the buffet table.

Then he veered towards Draco.

*

Draco was an expert at appearing attentive when he was bored silly. It was a necessary task to learn in Hogwarts when one was taking Arithmancy and ahead of the rest of the class. So he had no trouble nodding and smiling and exchanging honey-sweet barbs with the people who stood in a circle around him while in reality keeping an eye on the woman in the nearest corner of the room.

She was a tall witch he didn’t recognize, with thick black hair that rivaled his Aunt Bellatrix’s, bound carefully on the top of her head with a golden comb. Her eyes were wide and a deep, dark blue, several shades deeper than Draco’s robe. She wore a dark blue robe to match them, fringed with golden lace that flipped over her hands whenever she ate or drank something. And she had finished several cups of wine and several small plates of cheese and fruit since Draco had begun to watch her.

She wasn’t trying to be subtle about her staring. Draco would have caught her even if she was, but for her to be so open made him wonder.

Gradually, he began to work his way out of the circle of people, mostly by granting them compliments they needed to think about for a while, or hinting gracefully at important business elsewhere. Most people had seen him come in with Potter and were willing to let him go. Draco stepped free at last and turned to face the witch.

She gave him an open, amused smile, her lips redder than nature could have made them. Then she flipped her sleeve again so that the lace fell back from her hand and spread her fingers. A golden ball of light came into being above her palm, spinning rapidly. Draco recognized it. It was a variant of the spells that the Abranes had used for their glamours of the stars, a powerful spell, but harmless.

One thing only was unusual. He had watched her sleeve carefully, and there was no sign of a wand anywhere.

Then she began to drift towards one of the corridors that led further back into the house, the golden ball drifting and waltzing around her head now, her gaze inviting Draco to follow.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He took a step towards the woman, who smiled again.

“Draco!”

And of course Potter came up to him then, and when Draco turned back, the woman had vanished. Only the golden ball of light was left, which bobbed in what seemed like a mocking bow before it burst into sparks that flew to join every torch in the room. Draco cursed under his breath. There was no chance of getting a magical signature by analyzing the spell she had left behind now.

“I definitely learned something about Nihil,” Potter whispered in a tone still not low enough for Draco’s taste as he came up beside him. “And look!” He thrust a square of parchment into Draco’s hand.

Draco opened it irritably. He was certain following the woman would have proven more profitable than reading what was probably no more than a love letter to Potter from one of the people who wanted to fuck the Chosen One.

There were nine Latin words on the parchment—three on the first line, five on the second, one on the last.

Nihil. Nemo. Nusquam.

Et sic transit gloria mundi.

Mors.

Draco licked his lips. Potter, crowding in beside him, made a frustrated sound.

“I thought it was a clue,” he muttered. “What use are three names? And what do those other words mean?” He reached out to trace them. Draco thought about stopping him, then realized that any charm on the parchment would have taken effect before now, since Potter had carried it across the room.

“And so passes the glory of the world,” Draco translated the second line. “A very common motto. The Death Eaters used it sometimes. The last word means ‘death.’”

“That’s still not a clue,” Potter protested. Then he brightened. Draco knew he had from the tone, though he wasn’t looking at him. “But what I heard from Jarvis is!”

Draco glanced up sharply. “Jarvis?”

“Jarvis Abrane,” Potter said. “At least, I think it was Abrane. He introduced himself that way.”

Draco shook his head slowly. “Potter, I know all the Abranes. I made sure to study their genealogy before we came here. There’s no relative called Jarvis.”

Potter shut his mouth hard. His eyes were dark as he looked down at the parchment. “That still doesn’t tell us what that means,” he muttered, as if in rebellion.

Draco shivered. “No, it doesn’t,” he said.

But it gave him an image in his mind: a wide dark sea, large enough to swallow up all the Abranes’ falling stars without a trace.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Comments

long, and probably too much literary criticism for one chapter

[songquake.livejournal.com]

ooh, things are picking up -- and heating up. and how is it that we're suddenly getting clueless!draco with regards to harry's "dreamy half-romantic glances." hel-lo! potter's got no guile, draco! wysiwyg!

but i like how the latin note came in -- my bet is that numquam, nihil and nemo are one and the same -- an unholy trinity of emptiness. the antithesis of creation, at least of christian models of creation. no, no, hear me out. we've got Nihil for the Father, Nemo for the Son, and Numquam for the Holy Spirit. in concert, as one non-Being, they annihilate the created world and those who live in it. they are the anti-ontology.

it's like the parallel i made with dementors a few chapters back -- the dementors eat your soul, which is a way of bringing the human spirit into nothingness. but the diabolical promise of the trinity of emptiness is that you can keep a part of yourself while abandoning the rest to the black hole that the grief magic creates/destroys. it's like the grief magic is what is left once that abandonment has taken place -- the wizard is filled with the grief of being unrecognizable as a human, of no longer having a real self. but the grief of non-Being is uniform -- it presents the same way in each of its hosts. so even the promise of nothingness is unfulfilled for the N trio. because nothingness needs its counterpart of being in order to not-exist. being and non-being are co-constitutive; they create one another. so we've got the fullness of life and death versus the nothingness of trying to escape life and death simultaneously.

kinda l'engle-ish.

need i say that i'm loving this story more and more each chapter? thanks for bringing it to the world!

Re: long, and probably too much literary criticism for one chapter

[sandersyager.livejournal.com]

*grins* I was reading your comment before I looked at who left it and thinking, huh, "songquake would find this analysis fascinating (and be able to unpack it better than I can)."

Re: long, and probably too much literary criticism for one chapter

[songquake.livejournal.com]

it's an analysis based in john donne meets judith butler. (am re-reading a LOT of butler these days). poor lomonaaeren, though, having to read my critical ramblings (and they are ramblings) before she's even finished the first story in the trilogy!

Re: long, and probably too much literary criticism for one chapter

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

Draco just doesn't trust the "romance" Harry is feeling to last. He thinks that their "real" relationship will always be arguing and fighting.

The names are significant. I won't promise that they mean exactly what you're proposing here- though it's an intriguing theory- but there's a reason that Nihil chose to call himself what he did.

There are some people who would be tempted by the promise that they could escape nothingness and not-being forever, I think.

[groolover.livejournal.com]

Ooh, this story gets more and more intriguing. This was an unexpected, but pleasant, change of scene. But the list of things I don't understand grows with each chapter! Not that I'm complaining about that - I like to have things to wonder about.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you! If it helps, Harry and Draco don't understand that much either, yet.

[jtsbbsps-dk.livejournal.com]

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh...

More clues :D and who was that woman? It's all getting more and more interesting! :-)
And Harry is staaariiing! *grins* *fangirl giggle*


*snuggles them*

*snuggles you*

Great chapter! :D

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

The woman will be important later, though Harry get a bit of a clue in this chapter about her.

[otakuangel.livejournal.com]

Nothing. No one. Nowhere. This villian definitely has a thing for negation.

It was like he’d given himself permission to notice that Draco was an attractive man or something.

"...or something" indeed, Mr. Potter.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Yes, he does.

Harry is still pursuing the fantasy that he's not gay, remember.

[arizaki-shisaku.livejournal.com]

Clues, clues, clues...or not clues! I'm excited to see what happens next...eagerly awaiting the next chapter :)

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[neji-chan.livejournal.com]

Yep, I don’t get it. I think in this case, I won’t understand what Nihil wants until Harry or Draco figure it out. And even then I’ll probably need one of them to explain it ::sigh:: Still, it was interesting what that guy said. I’m curious about that woman too, and I was frustrated that Harry has such bad timing. On the other hand, she was leading Draco away so how knows, maybe it was better that Harry interrupted the moment. Maybe next time Harry should memorise the pureboold’s genealogies too.

I’m struggling to put my thoughts into words, because it’s mostly a feeling I get when reading the interactions between Harry and Draco now. Like it’s unstable what they have… and kind of forced. It doesn’t matter that they are both acting like nothing happened, it’s still noticeable that something did. I said it already: they need to talk. And if it bothers Harry so much, he should ask Draco, directly or indirectly, why he keeps using Harry’s last name.

I felt sorry for Harry being in the party when he was so uncomfortable, but does he really think it’d be impossible for him to be with Draco, or was it another convenient excuse? Speaking of the party, I loved the descriptions. From the clothes to how Abrane Hall looked :)

Draco thought his hair was shifting slowly in the direction of white, and he would endeavor to look distinguished and exotic when it finally hit.

Heh, I loved that he doesn’t freak out about his probably-turning-white hair, instead thinking about using it to his advantage. I wouldn’t mind either, white hair is cool.

This is why you should have stayed with me, Draco, you bastard. This is probably important, but I have no idea what to do to make him trust me.

Still laughing at the first part. Also, I think Harry should have more confidence in himself.

But it gave him an image in his mind: a wide dark sea, large enough to swallow up all the Abranes’ falling stars without a trace.

Your last lines are always wonderful, this was no exception: it’s unnerving, and fits with what that guy told Harry.

Draco was comfortable having here there

Did you mean ‘having her there’?

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Well, the resolution is a long way off. But they'll pick up clues along the way that hopefully they'll eventually be able to fit into some larger pattern.

It is definitely for the best that Harry interrupted Draco, though I can't tell you why yet.

Harry thinks asking Draco the question would force him into unwanted intimacy. Really, he is being a little too sensitive to Draco's feelings here.

But Draco won't push forwards, either, because he feels like he tried and then Harry shot him down. And so Harry will have to be the one to lose his temper and demand the truth, that things change.

Harry thinks that class and wealth are a barrier to his being with Draco, and not one he can easily dismiss. He thinks Draco would expect him to have all these values and all this knowledge that he clearly doesn't.

Harry has never been what you would call socially skilled, I think. :)

Yes, I need to correct that typo, thanks!

[minidrag33.livejournal.com]

Very good chapter. I like the mystery. :)

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[invincible-sum.livejournal.com]

Nice chapter! Harry's thoughts and his exchanges with Draco over clothes, dancing and socializing were hilarious, and the descriptions of the celestial displays at Abrane Hall were lovely. I also quite liked the descriptions of everyone's attire.

Clearly D. does still need to make it clear to H. that he will not stand for his trying to off himself again - and, for the love of Pete, that H. does actually stand a chance with him on the romantic front ;) Poor mostly clueless boys. More cute jealousy from both H&D as well, thinking that everyone present wants to bed the other.

It was concerning from the get-go that Jarvis's breath smelled of dust....

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Draco is still All Miffed about the way that Harry shut down discussion about the kiss. Most likely, he is going to have to realize that that is just the way Harry is and adapt to it.

[(Anonymous)]

Relatives that aren't relatives that drop almost obtrusive hints and smell of dust, a mysterious woman with floating balls of golden spell-stuff, and yet Draco still manages to assume the note Harry's got is a love letter he ought to be jealous of.

*sigh* I forget, in all my exorbitant years of wisdom, just how painful and long a crush or feelings can swim around before anything comes of them. And by extrodinary and boundless years of wisdom, I mean I just turned 20 and treated Cornucopia as my birthday present I stole off the net. So yeah, other reviewers might have a problem with the pair running circles around each other, but I can fully believe it'll be that way for a long time. After all, we only see some of their interactions: there are lots of talks nd discussions and even just eating dinner and studying that happens, without the intensity of a dinner party, perhaps.

I am so going to have to brush up on my Latin, me thinks. Do you speak it/read it, or just know the romance languages quite well?

Can't wait for the next update.
-Jolene

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Happy late birthday!

It changes a bit in a few chapters, because Harry is uncomfortable with the status quo and finally makes that known, but it can't change fully yet. For one thing, both Harry and Draco don't have much of an idea of what they're feeling yet. For another, Harry doesn't want Draco to feel like he's forcing him into intimacy of any type.

I'm studying Latin and Italian right now, and I do know Spanish.

[daftfear.livejournal.com]

OMG so much mystery! Who was the woman and what would she have revealed? Who was the Jarvis man REALLY? What does the note really tell them? Ahh @_@ It's so fascinating and insane!

And Harry getting dizzy around Draco and staring at him was very pleasant indeed :) hehe :D

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you! At the moment, Harry and Draco do not know the answers to those things themselves, but they desperately want to.

I thought you might like that part. :)

[manderskoinu.livejournal.com]

Ack I completely forgot to review this chapter-_-;;
I really liked the descriptions and imagery in this chapter. Especially the falling stars and the clothing(is a clothing nerd) Wow I am so curious about the plot now:) Any way this was lovely but I'm going to run off to read the next chapter now;)

[yanagi-wa.livejournal.com]

I'm still reading this. I loved this chapter but felt Draco's frustration keenly. Wonder what that woman wanted.