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lomonaaerenChapter Thirty-Six.
Title: Practicing Liars (37/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Summary: AU of HBP. Harry found out that he was Snape’s son two years ago, and he’s carefully concealed it. But now Snape is his Defense teacher, and Draco Malfoy is up to something, and Dumbledore is dying, and the final battle is coming up, and everything is getting very, very complicated.
Pairings: Background Ron/Hermione and Ron/Lavender. Harry and Draco have a ‘complicated friendship’ which will become a preslash relationship. For obvious reasons, Snape/Lily is mentioned.
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence (lots of violence), profanity, angst, character death (not Snape, Harry, or Draco), slash and het hints.
Author’s Notes: While I’m hoping to make this plot at least somewhat original, I know that I’m treading on well-covered ground. I don’t know yet how long the story will be, except that it will be novel-length. Practicing Liars is being written for my dear soft2smooth2000, who has helped me wonderfully with keeping track of and linking to my fics on LJ.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Thirty-Seven—Cryptic Words and Open Ones
Harry found himself flushing from the knowledge that Dumbledore had probably seen him and Draco kissing, but he stepped slowly away from Draco, and kept his left hand in place on the back of Draco’s neck. He wasn’t going to act embarrassed, he thought. He wasn’t ashamed of Draco, and Dumbledore always seemed to know everything, so he had probably already known about this.
“Yes, sir?” he asked. “Was there something you wanted?” He moved carefully closer to Draco while Dumbledore stood there as if waiting for something more. He had to look calm and collected.
A sudden hatred of that exploded in his chest like a firework. Why should he have to do that all the time? What was the point? Events went on happening around him in spite of that, events he couldn’t affect. And he was so tired, and he could never relax. Just when he thought he could, he had to fasten on another mask.
But betraying the hatred would be against what he was trying to do here, so he just breathed and stroked Draco’s hair and waited for Dumbledore to say something.
Finally, Dumbledore removed his glasses and began to clean them on his robes. His voice was soft. “I have something to speak to you about, Harry. Tactics. Or is it strategy? I can never remember the difference between them.” He paused, and when Harry and Draco stood there looking at him, he added delicately, “I need to speak to you alone.”
“No,” Harry said at once. “Why? I trust Draco. He can hear everything that gets said between us.”
Draco leaned against him. Harry thought he would probably lose it, in either laughter or some kind of confession, if he looked down at the smug expression on Draco’s face right now, so he kept his eyes on Dumbledore as he stroked Draco’s hair, again, and waited, again.
The Headmaster stroked his beard. “That is an unexpected problem,” he said. “While I am sure that you have good reasons for trusting the young Malfoy—” his voice said that he knew what all those reasons were “—I do not. So I would like him to leave while I tell you this, and then you can pass the secrets on to him if you wish to.”
“If you know that I’m only going to tell him anyway,” Harry snapped, annoyed beyond measure by how stupid this was, “then why try to make him leave?” He eyed Dumbledore with contempt that he didn’t bother hiding. Yes, he could understand the motives that had made Dumbledore decide he should be sacrificed. But he would never understand most of his secrecy, or the little rituals that he seemed to think were necessary before he would hand over necessary information.
Dumbledore sighed once. Then he said, “I hope you will not regret this.” Before Harry could retort that he was the one more likely to regret it, considering how much he seemed to hate Draco, Dumbledore was continuing. “I have been keeping a close eye on Voldemort’s movements. He at last believes the rumors he has been hearing, and trusts that neither Severus nor young Mr. Malfoy are going to come out of the school to confront him. He has had his Death Eaters searching for Narcissa Malfoy, but has been unable to locate her. Therefore, he has decided to attack the school, as the place where all his enemies are gathered.” He stopped and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry felt his heartbeat speed up. Draco was here, and Ron and Hermione, and even Snape. Not to mention a whole bunch of innocent students who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves against Death Eaters. Harry didn’t think he’d trust to the luck they had in the Department of Mysteries again.
But Dumbledore was smiling.
“Is that—is that what you wanted to happen, sir?” Harry finally managed to ask. It seemed incredible, but then, as he had learned after most of the times he fought Voldemort, Dumbledore’s plans often did to someone who was standing outside them.
“It is,” Dumbledore admitted. “Something will happen when he comes here that he does not expect.” He leaned forwards, and Harry almost forgot Draco was there in the intensity of the bright gaze he was getting. Almost, but not quite, because Draco leaned heavily on his shoulder to make sure that he didn’t forget. “I want to be sure that you remember the words I gave you earlier,” Dumbledore whispered, “a short time ago.”
Harry frowned. He had barely bothered to remember those words, because he thought they were useless without knowing what they meant. “Something about light,” he said. “And fading light? Or something like that.”
Dumbledore sighed, and looked disappointed. That was when Harry learned that Dumbledore’s disappointment still had the power to cut him, even though it should have lost that power long ago. He tensed himself against the impulse to flee. Another mask. When will I be able to do as I like, talk as I like?
“You might just tell us,” Draco said irritably. “It doesn’t sound like you would have told Harry even if I wasn’t here, because you want to use riddles and the like. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” he added, voice sharp with something that might have been scorn and might have just been more anger. “An excuse to act like there’s not a war happening and you’re still the jolly old grandfather who sets riddles and tasks. Sometimes I think you treat this whole thing like a game.”
Harry gripped Draco’s shoulder as Dumbledore’s eyes grew cold, and then stepped between them when Dumbledore went on staring in a way he didn’t like. “Listen,” he said. “As far as I can tell, Draco’s right. I might be on the brink of forgiving you for—some things, but not others. It’d help if you could just tell the bloody truth for once and then be done with it.” He finished that with a sharper bite off the words than he’d intended to give, but Dumbledore’s whole ridiculous routine was driving him just as mad as it sounded like it was driving Draco.
The Headmaster stood watching them for some time. Then he nodded, and sighed, and smiled, and he looked as he always had when Harry still believed in him implicitly.
“All right,” he said. “I cannot risk the truth yet, but I trust that you will remember what I have said, and make your own preparations for the moment when Voldemort attacks. I give you permission to tell Professor Snape,” he added. “I myself will inform Professor McGonagall and the other teachers. What we choose to tell the students must wait on our mutual decision.” And he turned and walked back off down the corridor as if that was all he’d come to say.
Harry let out a breath that was more like a grunt than he wanted it to be, and buried his nose in Draco’s shoulder. Draco caressed him, fingers sliding through his hair and down his neck until Harry wanted to give up and stand there forever.
“It’s over,” Draco whispered to him. “That’s the end of it for right now, and we can go back to Professor Snape’s quarters. Would you like that?”
A sharp shiver ran through Harry, and he reluctantly pulled himself away from Draco. “No,” he said, thinking about the confrontation he’d had with Snape before he went running out and slammed into Ron and Hermione. His weariness and wariness came surging back up as he thought about it. There were just so many of these damn emotions, and he didn’t have the time to sort them out, let alone deal with them all. “I don’t—Draco, I can’t face him right now.”
Draco looked at him with a frown, but he seemed to decide that it wasn’t worthwhile to question Harry, which Harry was grateful for. He nodded instead and smoothed his hands gently up Harry’s sides. “Do you want to go to Umbridge’s old room, then? I would say to Gryffindor Tower, but they wouldn’t let me in,” he added.
Harry smiled, grateful that Draco wanted to stay with him. “But maybe that would be the best idea,” he said. “Draco, I need to be alone. I need to think about things and rest, and I can’t—I can’t do that if someone’s with me.”
Draco shook his head. “I won’t talk to you if you don’t want me to, but I’m not going to leave you alone. What you need is support, Harry,” he added, overriding the protest that Harry tried to make. “Someone who doesn’t make you do something for them at every turn. And I can offer that. I know you might think I can’t, since I talk so much.”
“That’s not it at all.” Harry touched his forehead, even though his scar didn’t hurt, trying to find some way to make Draco realize the truth. “I—I’ve never had someone with me when I sorted through things like this. I don’t know how.”
“Then I think you should learn,” Draco said. Harry gave him a glare of frustration. Draco rolled his eyes. “I’d leave you alone if I thought that was truly what you needed,” he said. “But I don’t think it is, and so I’m coming with you.”
Harry tried a harder glare. “What if I don’t want you there?”
“I told you,” Draco said calmly, though his face was a bit pale. “I wouldn’t come if you didn’t need it. But what you need is more important to me than what you want.” He suddenly smiled and stepped towards Harry. “Besides,” he added, “this is good training for all the comforting I’ll expect to get in the future, when you take to pampering me.”
Harry shook his head helplessly and held out his hand. Part of him did feel warm to have Draco coming with him; he just wasn’t sure how it would work. “Come on, then.”
*
In the end, they went to a small room that Draco knew of in the dungeons, rather than back to the old classroom they’d used so often. Harry curled up in one corner of the room as Draco conjured a fire in the fireplace and then cushions from fallen bits of rock that had come out of the wall. Draco was sure that Harry could at least have done the fire, but he looked as though he simply wanted to curl up and rest, and Draco wanted to give him that.
Harry lay down on one of the cushions, then grumbled and got up when he realized it wasn’t big enough to hold him. Draco fetched a second and braced it under his feet. Harry blinked at him, and Draco shook his head. “Shhh,” he said. Actually saying that he didn’t want Harry to stir might sound condescending, so he didn’t say it. He arranged the second cushion under Harry’s back, and then took Harry’s head into his lap and stroked his hair the way that Harry was fond of doing to him.
Harry caught his breath and shut his eyes. Draco traced the outline of his scar, and Harry shuddered, but didn’t move away. Draco decided that meant it was a success, and did it again.
That went on until Harry stopped flinching each time he was touched, but he did shake his head and mutter, “This is weird.”
“Yes?” Draco forbade himself to feel hurt about that. Harry hadn’t acted hurt when Draco had sometimes wanted to be alone after his father died, or when he talked to his mother about private things. He kept his voice calmly interested. “Why’s that?”
“I mean—I just don’t have people around me when I’m feeling like this,” Harry muttered, and rubbed the corner of his mouth with the inside of his arm. He didn’t move to get up, which was good, because Draco didn’t want to restrain him. What he had hoped would happen was happening, and Harry was talking freely since someone was with him. “I just got over my mourning for Sirius and my mourning for Cedric on my own. And I kept the secret that Snape was my father to myself. So this is weird.”
Draco shut his eyes for a few minutes, and quietly considered what he should say. That experience was alien to anything he’d done or felt. Sometimes his parents were angry with him when he got upset, if it was a childish tantrum about almost nothing, but they never ignored him. He would be scolded and sometimes threatened with the loss of cherished privileges if he didn’t calm down and think about his emotions. Being left alone was also not something that happened to Draco, even if he got upset when his parents weren’t home. There were always house-elves, and, at school, people who watched him to see if they could gain some sort of advantage.
He had been irritated by that plenty of times. But it was better than indifference.
“You’re not the one who’s weird,” he said finally. “It’s your family who is, and anyone else who mistreated you.” That let Harry pretend that there was someone else other than the Muggles, which stilled the ripple of discomfort Draco had clearly felt traveling through his muscles.
Harry lay back with his head in Draco’s lap once more, and said, “But that’s why I wanted to be by myself.”
“Would you have wanted help?” Draco asked, digging his fingers into Harry’s neck and being rewarded with a soft groan. Draco had to concentrate hard so that he wouldn’t get too distracted by that. “If someone had been available to give it to you?”
“Well, yeah,” Harry said, opening one eye and looking at Draco as if he was the strange one. “I’d like that.”
“Then you’re not weird,” Draco said. “You were just prevented, that’s all. And now, no matter what else happens, you have two people who will give you what you need. Companionship in your grief. Someone to tell your secrets to, when you want to. People you can rely on.”
Harry rolled his head against Draco’s leg, the line of his throat oddly tight, at least when viewed from above. “You’re talking about Snape,” he said. “Not Ron and Hermione, or you would have said three people, you and then.”
“Yes,” Draco said. “Do you really distrust him that much?” That was as close as he’d come to asking about the conversation that Harry had sent him into the bathroom to wait out, no matter how curious he was.
“I don’t know,” Harry said at last, voice as slow as honey. “That’s strange, too, and it’s stranger than all the rest, because I can’t really remember my parents. I got used to having people around who cared some of the time, like Ron and Hermione. I never thought I’d have a dad.”
Draco smiled. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t have a choice in that,” he said. “Professor Snape isn’t going to let you go so easily.”
“Do you think—” Harry asked, and stopped abruptly.
“Do I think what?” This was less hard than Draco had thought it would be, which was good, because everything else so far had been incredibly hard. He waved his wand to conjure a wooden wall behind him, and then floated one of the cushions up behind him so that he could lean his head against it as it covered the wall.
“Do you think that Snape really wants me for me,” Harry asked, “the way you do? Or would any son do? Would he have welcomed anyone he found out he’d sired the way he sired me?”
Draco hesitated. On the one hand, he wanted to say what would make Harry happy. On the other hand, saying that would probably cause Harry to disbelieve it, and the last thing Draco wanted to do was damage his mood.
So he went with the truth, which he seemed to do a lot around Harry, as the best choice.
“I think that he would have been frantic to acknowledge any son,” he said carefully. “But your relationship with him was—difficult.”
Harry snorted, which made his head bounce on Draco’s lap, which was another distraction that Draco just had to put aside for now. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Quiet, I’m trying to choose the right words,” Draco said with dignity. “What I’m trying to say is that I think he’ll value your relationship more in the end, because he has to work harder for it. Professor Snape isn’t averse to hard work, you know.”
“Certainly not to making other people do it,” Harry muttered.
“I think it’ll make your connection more valuable,” Draco said doggedly. He was going to get the words out no matter how many interruptions Harry made. He was probably interrupting because he was so nervous, come to that. “So, in the end, he’ll care for you more than he would care for some random child that he found out about in some random manner.”
Harry shut his eyes, and a sharp line cut across the scar on his forehead. “I wish I could be sure of that.”
“Yes, well, nothing’s ever sure,” Draco said, and then winced, because that sounded a bit insensitive. My father would laugh and laugh to see how tenderly I’m considering Harry’s feelings. Draco had never thought he would need to do this, because he had never imagined having a lover so different from him that his every feeling needed to be carefully considered and gone over. “Can you live with that?”
Harry lay there in silence. The loudest sound was the crackling of the fire, and Draco’s breathing. Draco grimaced in embarrassment and tried to stop sounding like he’d swallowed smoke.
Finally, Harry murmured, “Yes, I think I can.” He reached up with one hand and clasped Draco’s arm. “As long as you’re here.”
Draco sat still, his body humming in happiness, not daring to move.
His happiness only grew stronger when he realized that Harry had drifted off to sleep.
*
Severus lifted his glass and considered the contents by the light of the fire. It was brandy, which he had once loathed drinking and then come to consider a special treat. He was not sure when his opinion had shifted, but Albus must have had something to do with it.
Albus.
Severus half-shut his eyes and sipped.
Draco had told him what Dumbledore had said, but he hadn’t been able to recount the conversation word for word. When Severus had asked for permission to Legilimize him and look at the memories that way, Draco had hesitated for so long that it wasn’t a surprise when he finally shook his head.
“You could do it, sir, for all of me,” he said quietly. “But there are things in there that you could see, and…” He swallowed. “Harry wouldn’t like it.”
It should not surprise Severus that Harry shared things with Draco he would not share with his father. He had seen how the matter stood for himself when Draco comforted Harry during his ordeal by potion. But to be confronted with it like this was a harsher blow than he had expected.
At least he sent Draco away when we had a private conversation of our own, Severus thought, and took another swallow. At least there is that.
He would have to wait for more.
Someone knocked on his door. Severus stared at it. It was late enough at night that no student should have dared to disturb him. Alarms would have let him know if something had happened in the dungeons or the Slytherin common room that would require his intervention, and he had no detentions to supervise.
Then Harry’s voice shouted, “Snape! Something’s wrong with Draco! Open the bloody door!”
Severus was on his feet and moving across the room so swiftly that he nearly forgot to notice Harry’s language.
He opened the door, and Harry promptly staggered across the threshold, carrying Draco in his arms. Severus shook his head as he shut the door again. He would have thought that Harry couldn’t do that, since he was so thin, but worry gave him strength.
Harry laid Draco down on the couch where he’d slept that night Harry was recovering from the potion and whirled around. “Can you do anything for him?” he demanded.
Severus moved forwards, studying Draco’s face from several different angles. “I must learn what is wrong, first,” he murmured. “What happened to him?”
“We met up for a discussion about what Voldemort was going to do next,” Harry said. His breathing was so fast that Severus determined to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t hyperventilate. He was pacing in circles around the couch, never taking his eyes from Draco. “Ron and Hermione and Draco and me. Draco was talking about whether Voldemort would use any of the Death Eaters he knew when he stopped, and coughed, and then just fell on the floor.”
“How long after dinner was this?” Severus murmured, and cast several quick spells. None of the most common poisons appeared on the first scan. That did not reassure him. It only meant that it was likely to be a less common poison.
“Just now,” Harry said, giving him a savage look, as if to ask whether Severus thought he would delay in bringing Draco to him. “So about three hours.”
Severus nodded and cast another spell. Potions that restricted breathing were not in Draco’s blood, though given the slowness of his breath, he had thought that likely. He frowned and studied the pasty, pale color of his face more closely. There were shadows of grey in the curve of Draco’s cheekbones and under his eyes. Severus sucked in a breath.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“The Dark Lord must have sent one of his student Death Eaters to take revenge for Draco’s betrayal,” Severus murmured, and then stood up and moved in the direction of his lab. “The poison is called Acromantula’s Bite. Hard to obtain, but not impossible. It will disable him slowly, and then kill him after a period of months.”
“So we have time,” Harry said, focusing on the most hopeful thing in that sentence, to Severus’s surprise. He would have thought the boy liable to panic when his lover was in danger. “Do you have the antidote?”
“No,” Severus said. “I must brew it.” He hesitated, but necessity compelled him to speak on. Draco would still live if Severus made the potion across several hours instead of in one, but he would probably lose at least his voice. “And I will need help.”
Harry’s eyes turned bright and piercing. Then he lowered his head and nodded. “All right, sir. Hermione wasn’t far behind me. I’ll go find her.”
Severus stared at him, which was long enough for Harry to get halfway across the room. “Hold! What makes you think that I did not mean for you to help?”
Harry stared back at him. “Because I’m pants at Potions,” he said. “I know that. And I’d rather have Draco safe than save him myself just because it would make me feel better to be a—a bloody hero or something.”
Severus had never wished so much that he had not discouraged Harry in Potions. Lowering his voice, he said, “You are not ‘pants’ at it, or you could not have obtained a mark high enough to persuade Slughorn to let you into his class. For this, you will need to help with the brewing only. I think Miss Granger would do worse than you would, for she is easily distracted from the topic at hand when she is nervous. If you can follow instructions and will listen to me, then that is all I will require.”
Harry shut his eyes and shivered. Then he opened his eyes and said, as calmly as if they did this every day, “All right. What do I need to do?”
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 12:50 am (UTC)I think, though, that this was a bad decision on Voldemort's part, because Harry is not going to be pleased. *sits on hands waiting for the next chapter*
no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 01:00 am (UTC)GAH! AWESOME CHAPTER!
*kicks Dumbledore*
Draco = ♥
The way he takes care of Harry and makes him open up is just so lovely and amazing!
And HARRY! He's become much more... human, I guess. Being annoyed about bearing masks, where he before would've seen it as his duty or something. Anger at keeping all his emotion in. He's really a lot more psychologically healthy than he were at the beginning of this fic! Progress = LOVE!
Snape is amazing as usual! :D
And now go bond over saving Draco's life ;D
LOVE. THIS. CHAP!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 01:44 am (UTC)also, dumbledore? what the hell? why would it make a difference whether draco were with them when he told harry about the upcoming siege unless he were going to ask harry to nobly sacrifice himself or somesuch ridiculousness?
has he forgotten that severus is making a potion to disentwine voldie's soul from harry's, or does he have no confidence in severus' ability to do so?
(btw, i have been keeping up with this one, if not all your other stories, and i love it as i love pretty much everything