Chapter Thirty-Two of 'Soldier's Welcome'- Building a Strategy

[lomonaaeren]

Title: Soldier’s Welcome (32/?)
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 Thirty-Two—Building a Strategy

“If you think you can do this technique, then show me.”

Harry shifted uneasily. One of the hardest things to get used to in this strange new world that was the second term of Auror training was the Combat teacher the Aurors had found to replace Gregory. She was also a woman, but there the similarity ended. Jennifer Morningstar seemed interested in absolutely everything, and would nod and consider the wildest claims seriously.

Then she would ask you to get up and prove them.

“I—I said I could,” Harry admitted reluctantly, “but that was under my breath, and you weren’t really supposed to hear.”

Morningstar smiled. She had a young face, although her hair was grey. “Then sit down, Trainee Potter, and let me find someone who can do it.” She paused and looked over the class while Harry retreated into the half-circle that she required her students to sit in. “Trainee Malfoy?”

Harry relaxed. If Draco learned the technique Morningstar was talking about, then he could teach it to Harry.

Besides, it was always a pleasure to watch Draco in motion.

Draco might have been walking up an aisle covered in red carpet to receive an award, for all the concern he showed as he walked towards Morningstar. She nodded to him and planted herself in profile to him, her feet braced. “Try to knock me over,” she said. “Shoulder-rush me or otherwise use your weight, but not your wand.”

Draco gave her a brief outraged look that Harry doubted she noticed; of course, that look said, he would go unarmed because they weren’t supposed to use their wands in here at any point. But Morningstar was good at ignoring things that she didn’t want to see, and also near-sighted. She smiled at Draco and gave a slightly mocking invitation with one crooked hand.

He came in low and from the side, seeming at first as if he might run past her. Harry swallowed and realized he was leaning forwards as he watched Draco sweep out one arm. He wanted to catch Morningstar in the stomach and send her sprawling, Harry thought. Constant training with Draco had made him better at estimating the direction of Draco’s movements.

Morningstar grabbed Draco’s reaching arm and whirled to the side, then stepped forwards. Harry blinked. He could hardly process the movement, though he knew she’d interrupted Draco’s momentum and ripped him off his feet, because it had happened so fast. Suddenly Draco was kneeling on the floor and hacking while Morningstar took her knee out of his stomach and smiled at the rest of them.

“He doesn’t understand the technique,” she explained needlessly.

Harry bit his lip and tried not to look at Draco. He would be humiliated, and the last thing he needed right now—or that their partnership needed—was for him to realize that Harry found that funny.

“You need to watch out for your balance as well as your enemy’s balance,” Morningstar said, stepping away from Draco. “He was relying too much on his weight to knock me down. And he would have, if I was fool enough to stand still for it. But I know the limitations of my own body.” She held out her arms, which seemed slender next to Draco’s, just as her small body seemed fragile next to his. It had taken Harry several classes to realize that those slender arms were lined with muscle. “You have to know the limitations of yours, and not only your strengths. Young wizards are too apt to trust to the strengths, and even think themselves invincible at times.” She looked at with pity at Draco, who was rising to his feet with a slow groan and a stretching process that made Harry think Morningstar had put some kinks in his back. “No one’s invincible. I’ll meet the enemy who’ll kill me someday, and the rest of you will, too.”

Then she turned about and smiled at Darien West, who had often been the butt of Gregory’s jokes. “On your feet, young man. I think that you should practice against me now and try to avoid what Malfoy did wrong.”

One of the most disconcerting things about Morningstar, Harry thought as he gave Draco a look of sympathy, was the way she could sound so cheerful right after making a pronouncement about death and failure, which she did fairly often.

Overall, though, he preferred her to Gregory.

And as interested as he was in learning to fight without his wand, he paid more attention at the moment to the fact that Catherine Arrowshot was looking at him speculatively.

*

“Begin.”

Draco bared his teeth. After failures in Combat several days in a row, he was all the readier to fight against his opponents in Dearborn’s class.

If only Dearborn had not decided that they needed to learn how to fight in groups this term, and paired him and Harry with two useless young witches against four people, one of whom was Weasley.

Weasley had by no means accepted Draco as much as Harry thought he had. He still sneered at him in strategic moments when Harry wasn’t looking, and sent stray hexes his way when Harry was out of the room or busy with homework for another class. He had used a Stinging Hex on Draco’s arse that had left him unable to sit down for a day.

And the worst part was that Draco didn’t want to complain to Harry about it, even though he knew Harry would ask Weasley to stop, because that would make it look as though he was the one who couldn’t get along.

I never knew a Weasel could be sneaky, he thought grumpily as he lifted his wand and gave the duelist’s bow to Weasley that Dearborn insisted they use in a combat like this. Weasley grinned back, his eyes full of fire. I should have paid more attention to the fact that a weasel is a rodent.

The groups surged forwards. The center of the classroom had been cleared of desks and chairs, and the rest of the class stood along the walls behind protective wards that Dearborn had erected himself. They watched with wide, excited eyes. Dearborn, probably because he wanted to test both Draco and Harry, had made sure that this was their first chance to put their training into practice.

Weasley aimed straight at Draco, then turned and feinted to the left. Draco was sure it was a feint, after the attention he had started paying in Morningstar’s class, and tightened his muscles against the impulse to give in and pay too much attention to it. He saw Harry sending a jinx at one of Weasley’s partners, and he wanted to shake his head. Why would you use a jinx when a crippling spell would be more in order, to make sure that your foe didn’t stand up again?

On the other hand, the rebound of the compatible magic rolled over from Harry’s spell and sent the familiar rush of power through Draco’s veins. As Weasley sent a crackling, spitting Acid Curse at him, Draco dodged to the side and whispered, “Arceo conexionem.”

The spell struck Weasley looking like nothing more than a puff of white dust, but Weasley at once paused and stared down at his wand. Then he lifted it and said, “Proteg—” only to interrupt himself and scratch his head.

Draco smiled nastily, not caring who saw. They were supposed to be treating each other like enemies right now, after all. And the spell was subtle but reversible, so it wouldn’t permanently damage Weasley. It simply sliced his thoughts apart from each other, keeping him from forming logical connections.

“Watch out, Draco!”

He nearly went down as someone shouldered him from the side, and then realized that Harry was standing between him and one of the wizards who had been fighting next to Weasley, shaking his head in disgust. One of them had aimed a spell at Draco, and he probably would have succumbed if not for Harry.

It was still an irritating thing to know, and so he leaned heavily on Harry as he stepped up to fight beside him. He could be a bit more tactful about the things that annoyed him, and especially about rescuing someone who was, in the end, just as skilled as he was—exactly as skilled, thanks to the compatible magic.

One of Weasley’s partners was Catherine Arrowshot, and she fought on long after Weasley had wandered off to point his wand into a corner and the other two students were groaning on the ground with bloody wounds on their legs. Arrowshot dodged most of their spells, raised excellent shields, and responded a time or two with a nasty curse that Draco admired. He did wonder how useful she would be in a battle with someone else, since she seemed to fight best alone, but that was surely just a matter of training.

“Enough.”

When Dearborn stepped forwards and interrupted them, less than a second after they had finally managed to bind Arrowshot with Incarcerous, it felt sudden. Draco blinked and glanced behind him. The two witches who had fought with them were sprawled on the floor, bound in ropes, too. He didn’t know if Arrowshot or the wizards who fought with Weasley had got them, and he was a bit ashamed to realize that he couldn’t remember.

“I see that you still have some things to learn about coordination,” Dearborn said. He frowned at Draco. “While you are partners with Trainee Potter in many senses of the word, Trainee Malfoy, you should not allow his presence to make you forget the others in the room.”

Draco inclined his head stiffly, his frustration and resentment visible in the blush on his cheeks. Dearborn seemed not to care about that, and turned away to remove the spell on Weasley and exhort the others to pay more attention, as well. Draco scowled at his back and felt Harry rubbing his shoulder.

“Why are you so angry?” Harry whispered, waiting to say it until Dearborn had begun his scolding. Dearborn had views about students talking in his class unless he gave them permission.

“Because he was the one who thought we should be partners, and now he’s speaking as though it’s our fault that this battle didn’t go well.” Draco hissed the words, partially because it helped to relieve his feelings and partially for the pleasure of leaning heavily against Harry. Harry shuddered when Draco’s breath traveled over his ear. Draco promised himself that he would remember that for a time when they had more privacy.

“But why would you expect him to show us extra favoritism?” Harry asked in a perplexed tone. “And why would you expect to be perfect the first time, or upset if you weren’t?”

Draco gave him an incredulous look. “I distinctly remember you getting upset when you failed to do something at Hogwarts,” he said.

“Because half the time the professors never explained themselves clearly enough.” Harry rolled his eyes. “But once I knew what I was doing wrong and could correct it, then I didn’t mind. Only Hermione gets things right the first time.”

Draco would have argued, but Dearborn had turned around again, his eyes sharp and solemn, and he thought it better to shut up and listen.

Inwardly, however, he decided that his view of Harry would need to undergo more readjustment. He had assumed without thinking about it that Harry expected easy victories and was frustrated when he didn’t attain them. Harry had seemed to be angry at Hogwarts quite a lot.

Now I wonder if that came from having a Dark Lord after him.

And his childhood might have something to do with it, too. Draco was not going to forget about what Harry had told him, even though Harry might prefer that he do so.

*

“Eat as much as you can!” Ketchum called as he paced through the tables in the dining hall. “You’ll need your strength for the class this afternoon.”

Harry smiled as most of the people around him groaned. It was strange to him that they objected to the Battlefield Tactics class and not to the Combat class, which usually left them with just as many bumps and bruises. But then, people were strange to him a lot of the time, and he usually assumed he was never going to understand and that was all there was to it.

He took a final bite of his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, idly staring around. Ron was sitting at another table and glaring. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he would, after what Draco had done to him in Offensive and Defensive that day. But sooner or later one of two things would happen: Ron would accept it, or he would complain to Harry about it and Harry would remind him that they were all trying to be friends now. It looked as if Hermione was already haranguing Ron about that, if the bleak look he gave her was any indication.

Someone walked straight through the tables towards them, acting as if other people would naturally move out of her way, which they did. Harry blinked. He recognized her as one of Ketchum’s trainees, but didn’t know who she was until she came to a stop in front of their table and stared at Draco. Then he remembered. Kepler, the one Draco had said he would try to speak to.

“We are agreed,” she said simply, and gave him a little bow, and then turned away. Most of the people ignored her as she went past, Harry noticed. He wondered if they were afraid of her, or had merely learned that most of the things they did didn’t matter to her. The only time Harry had ever seen Kepler get upset was when two of their fellow trainees had disarranged the Tactics classroom as a prank.

“One down,” Draco said, with a faint smirk, and turned to look at Harry. Harry swallowed. He kept forgetting how beautiful Draco seemed to him now, and then little flashes like this would remind him. “How’s it going with Arrowshot?” He kept his voice low enough that no one on either side of them could hear.

“I spoke with her after Dearborn’s class.” Harry shook his head and shoved a crumb off his plate. He watched from the corner of his eye as Draco tensed, but in the end he just rolled his eyes and blew his breath out without saying anything. Harry smiled. He hadn’t been sure how good Draco’s control was, but apparently he had got over his obsession with telling Harry how to eat and dress and walk and comb his hair. “She was angry because we tied her up, but she said that she’d come talk to us tonight.”

“Good.” Draco glanced over his shoulder. Harry turned to look with him. Their bodyguards, Julia Timmons and William Redworth, lounged on the seats of the table behind them, looking bored. Harry couldn’t blame them. Nothing exciting had happened so far, and they’d had to listen to numerous arguments as Draco tried to get comfortable with Ron and Hermione. Draco lowered his voice even though there was no sign of Timmons and Redworth paying attention to them. “What about Margate?”

“He told me that he wasn’t impressed by me being the Boy-Who-Lived and to stop wasting his time,” Harry said briefly. He felt anger burn in his throat when he thought about Margate. The man hadn’t even let Harry say what he’d come about. He’d laughed at him, and told him that he got away with a lot but that didn’t matter, because Margate was never going to do what he said.

“I reckon that I’ll have to talk to him after all.” Draco had a faintly disgusted look on his face. Harry decided not to tell him that he looked like Aunt Petunia when she was thinking about giving food to Harry.

“Why did you want me to talk with him in the first place?” Harry asked. “You did a good job with Kepler.”

“Margate can’t keep secrets very well,” Draco answered. He leaned his elbow on the table and shoved his fingers through his fringe in frustration. Even like that, Harry thought he looked good. What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s one thing to be attracted to someone and another thing to think about every gesture like that. “I thought he would respond best to honesty. But I’ll have to bribe him instead.”

“He seemed to think I was trying to bribe him,” Harry pointed out. “I don’t know what you can give him to make him respect you.”

Draco smiled, and the smile was slow and sinister and made Harry shiver and burn at the same time. “I know.”

*

“How are you, Margate?”

The blond trainee grunted without looking up from the essay he was writing. Seeing the way his eyebrows tugged together, Draco had to stifle a chuckle. It was probably taking so much of his brainpower to write the essay that he didn’t even realize who had just sat down next to him and drawn out his books.

Sure enough, Margate wrote three more lines and leaned back with a little nod to consider his grand work. Then he suddenly looked up and narrowed his eyes at Draco. “Here, you. You can’t sit here.”

“Why not? It’s a free library.” Margate had chosen a table in the library that Harry and Draco had often used when they were looking up information on magical creatures. Draco liked it because it backed into a corner of the shelves and one could see the door from it, as well as any direction that people might reasonably approach. He could see Granger at one of the other tables, for example, furiously scribbling notes from a thick book that probably had to do with Dark Arts. One of the few advantages to come out of enlisting Harry’s friends in the battle against Nihil was that Granger really was a good researcher, nearly as good as Harry had thought she was.

“I’m studying,” said Margate. “And I don’t like you.”

“Yes, but I don’t know why.” Draco pretended to look through his Auror Conduct book while Margate struggled with that one, frowning as he saw the latest list of rules they had to memorize. He thought Conduct a badly-designed and badly-run class, and not only because someone so young was teaching it. What was the point of having trainees memorize useless rules and procedures, and then yelling at them when they broke the rules, as they inevitably did? It would be better to teach them in logical clumps and use the exams to reinforce knowledge of the rules. Then bring them into other classes, and ask what spells one would use if one’s partner was down, and how those would fit inside the regulations, and so on.

Not that anyone would listen to Draco if he tried to explain his brilliant changes to the curriculum. They thought of him as a child, still.

“Because you’re a Death Eater,” Margate finally said, with the triumph of someone who had discovered an unshakable argument. “You’ve still got that Dark Mark on your arm.” He poked his quill towards Draco’s left arm, and then examined the end of the feather, apparently for invisible contamination.

“What if I told you that someone was doing something worse than branding people with the Dark Mark?” Draco asked him. “Something worse than the Dark Lord wanted to do in a thousand years?”

Margate paused and stared at him.

“You heard about the former trainee who was killed?” The instructors hadn’t been able to hush her death up, probably because someone had had to clean up Portillo Lopez’s office and Draco couldn’t imagine the instructors doing it all themselves. Of course, the instructors had chosen to blame it on Gregory. Draco could see the logic behind that, but it was the same “logic” that led them to leave Jones in charge of Auror Conduct, and so he couldn’t approve of it. “That’s the kind of thing they want to do to everybody.”

Margate began to sneer at him. “Who’s they?” But his sneer couldn’t hide the restless way his hands played with his quill, or the way his eyes never left Draco.

Draco hid his own smile, thinking it best if he kept his face stern right now. This was the reason that Margate didn’t like Harry, and the same reason that Draco had been so sure he could bribe him. Margate was looking for a chance to be a hero. He was too stupid to be of use to Nihil, except perhaps as a receptacle for grief magic, but Draco had decided that they must simply accept the risk that anyone could be infected and proceed from there. But he would be of use to someone who could promise him a large part in a war for the “light” against the “Dark.”

He wanted to be Harry. Draco couldn’t give him that, but he could give him another chance for heroic action.

“Someone with the name of Nihil,” Draco said. “That was the name left behind with the Dark magic that Potter and I faced in the corridor months ago. And then we faced a woman who called herself Nusquam.” This was taking more than a slight risk, but at the same time, Draco thought it was important to spread around the names. If he had realized the significance of the names on the note that the false Jarvis Abrane had given Harry, he would have reacted more strongly earlier.

People deserve the chance to know who their enemies are.

Margate was looking at him from the corner of just one eye now, but that eye was alight. “You don’t say,” he muttered, with a bad attempt at casualness. He flipped his quill over between his fingers. “And why do you think I can help?”

“Because I think you’re too honest and honorable for Nihil to try and ensnare you,” Draco said truthfully. And also too much of a fool. “And I know that you’re good in Observation. We want you to watch out for them, and tell us if you see something suspicious.”

“You want me to spy?” Margate drew himself up and glared as if Draco had wanted him to eat poison.

“The bravest man I ever knew was a spy,” Draco said, truthfully again. He leaned forwards. “Besides, we’re doing the same thing ourselves. Our enemies are too powerful for us to face directly, and right now, they’re hidden. We need to find them and drag them into the light, but at the same time, we can’t let ourselves be killed before that happens. So we do something that Harry doesn’t like, either, for the sake of doing something better. Do you understand?”

The clouds slowly cleared from Margate’s face, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I got it,” he said in a loud whisper. “You can count on me.”

“Good.” Draco stood up. He’d spent long enough with Margate for someone to be suspicious—and Harry couldn’t keep Timmons and Redworth distracted forever by walking briskly around the Ministry. “We’ll contact you.”

Margate grinned at him. Draco gathered his books and parchment and walked out of the library, pausing to shut the door carefully behind him before he turned back to face the maze of corridors between their rooms and this point.

A shadow caught his attention. Someone was standing, out of sight but also not really trying to hide, in a side corridor.

Draco waited. The shadow didn’t move. He drew his wand and approached cautiously. He didn’t think much would happen here, with so many people near to be alerted by a scream, but one never knew.

He stuck his head around the corner, and caught a single glimpse of a figure before it dissolved into golden light.

The glimpse was enough. The figure had been Nusquam, as whole and healthy as ever, smiling at him.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

Comments

[la-mariane.livejournal.com]

Ahh! Cliff-hanger *dies of curiosity*
I really like Harry and Draco interactions, especially the part where Harry eats and Draco has to prevent himself from correcting his manners. *grin*
But my favourite part is the silent dislike between Draco and Ron. Ron is a giant prat but I guess that's IC for him.

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

Harry is trying to be more considerate of Draco now. You'll get to see that in the next chapter.

Ron will become better eventually, but Draco will probably have to show how useful to Harry he is first and how he makes Harry happy.