Chapter Forty-Nine of 'Practicing Liars'- A Will of Steel

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Forty-Eight

Title: Practicing Liars (49/50)
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.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Forty-Nine—A Will of Steel

Draco stepped cautiously through the door of the hospital wing. It was the first time he had been in to see Harry since the battle, and he tried hard not to feel resentful about that. He knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault that the Death Eaters would be trying to find any way they could to hurt him, but at the same time, they’d been able to meet before this even though it was more dangerous. Why couldn’t he go to Harry that first night after the battle, even if just for a few minutes?

Harry was leaning against two pillows when Draco came in, eating from a bowl of porridge with a resigned grimace on his face. When he saw Draco, he immediately grinned and put the bowl aside.

The grin relaxed muscles in Draco’s chest and shoulders that he hadn’t known were tense. He smiled at Harry and walked up, with only one more glance around for people who were watching things they shouldn’t see, to take Harry’s hand.

Not satisfied with that, Harry leaned over and kissed him.

Draco sighed and let himself melt into the kiss. If Harry was doing this, then it must be all right, and Harry wouldn’t have to deal with scoldings from Madam Pomfrey later, or, worse, stares from Professor Snape.

“How are you?” Harry whispered to him as he pulled slowly back from the kiss, which was the softest and warmest Draco had ever received. “I can’t believe they haven’t let you visit before now.” He snorted bitterly. “Or let me out of this bed. There’s nothing wrong with me, but it’s like they can’t believe that, because if you fight and defeat a Dark Lord there must be something wrong with you or the battle’s not real.”

“They didn’t exactly let me come this time,” Draco said.

Harry frowned at him, and though Draco doubted Harry would be angry, he decided that he had to explain further. “Professor Snape didn’t give me permission or anything like that,” he added. “I just waited until he left and seemed like he would be gone a good while, and then I came in.”

Harry blinked, then gave Draco a slow smile that thrilled him and made him uneasy at once. It was the smile Harry had been wearing when they walked towards the Room of Hidden Things to hunt for the Ravenclaw diadem. “Good for you,” he said in a musing voice. “And why not? My friends can visit me, now that Madam Pomfrey allows it. Why the fuck can’t you?”

“Because I’m afraid of your father,” Draco said, with a half-smile of his own. “And because it’s still too dangerous for us to date openly, with the Death Eaters around.”

“Fuck that,” Harry said, and rolled out of bed. Draco tensed, half-excited and half-nervous when he thought that he might see Harry without his clothes, but he realized quickly that Harry was wearing loose hospital robes.

“What are you doing?” Draco looked around, thinking Madam Pomfrey would swoop out of hiding at any moment, or Professor Snape would telepathically learn what was going on and start storming out of the dungeons. Draco knew they oughtn’t to be able to hear him up here, but the professor would find some way to make his displeasure known.

“Getting out of bed,” Harry said, his tone substituting handily for the unspoken words you idiot.

“Madam Pomfrey said you should stay here,” Draco murmured, but his heart had begun to pound, and his blood ran to his fingertips and toes carrying mild shocks along with it.

“And I told you, there’s nothing wrong with me.” Harry snorted and looked around impatiently, then picked up his wand from the bedside table and Summoned a set of school robes from around the corner. “Who should know that better than me? I’m the one in my body.” He took off the hospital robes and started dressing in the school ones, apparently uncaring that Draco was standing right there and could see him.

Draco firmly swallowed his own drool and shook his head. “If you date me openly, then we could both be in danger.”

“We’ll be in danger no matter what.” Harry’s words were muffled because of the clutch of cloth around his face, but Draco could still hear them perfectly. Then he yanked the robe down to the level of his neck, and his face was flushed and sparkling with that dangerous smile. “It could take them years to catch all the Death Eaters. Fuck if I’m going to wait that long to live the life I want, with my boyfriend and my friends and my—father.” Draco knew no one but himself and Professor Snape would have heard the slight hesitation before Harry spoke that word. Draco didn’t think Harry was really reluctant to think about Professor Snape being his father anymore, but he was unused to applying the concept to himself.

“Are you sure?” Draco could feel his body throbbing with his desire to be with Harry, but he didn’t want Harry to make a decision that he would regret later, especially since he cared so much about the safety of the people he loved.

Harry nodded firmly. “There’s been too much hiding and sneaking around, and like I said, it might take them years to decide I was ‘safe.’ And then a Death Eater they didn’t know about or didn’t realize was missing could still come through the wards.” He turned around and took Draco’s hands in his. “If I’m just a little more cautious and try to make sure that I’m always keeping behind strong defenses, there’s no reason that I can’t have what I want.”

Draco had to close his eyes so that he could deal with his own happiness. He’d been sitting in the Slytherin common room that morning, trying to picture how he would live through years of sneaking around and being with Harry only on the sly. It might sound exciting when you first thought about it, but he knew he would hate the reality.

“Mr. Potter! What are you doing out of bed?”

Draco could feel Harry’s guilty jump through their connected hands, but Harry only turned around, shaking his head and smiling, when the mediwitch swept into the room.

“Sorry, Madam Pomfrey,” he said. “I know that you’re just trying to protect me. But I’ve been here for four days now, and you know there’s nothing physically wrong with me. I want to walk and get some exercise.”

“And what if someone jumps out at you from a dark corner and undoes all my good work?” Pomfrey folded her arms and glared at Harry. Draco didn’t know how he kept upright under the force of that look. Draco himself would have climbed meekly back into bed under a glare a tenth as strong.

On the other hand, I didn’t defeat the Dark Lord, Draco thought. Walking out of the school to a battle that half of you thought was certain death must be harder than resisting Madam Pomfrey.

“That could happen anywhere,” Harry said calmly. “Someone could sneak into the infirmary and try the same thing.” Madam Pomfrey promptly stared about as if daring any potential intruders to come out and face her wrath. Draco gnawed his lip to keep from bursting into snickers. “I don’t want to live my life in fear. I’ll be careful, but I’m not going to be paranoid.”

Madam Pomfrey was about to say something else, but just then her glance fell on their joined hands. She caught her breath. Her eyes widened.

Draco braced himself for some negative comment. He would have to get used to that. Even if no one tried to kill him for dating Harry, people would hurl insults of all kinds—people who were disappointed they couldn’t have Harry for their own, people who disapproved of Draco’s family, and people who assumed that, as the shining hero of the light, Harry should have no ties to darkness whatsoever.

But the mediwitch only shook her head, muttered something to herself that could have been a complaint, and went on with her original argument as though nothing had happened. “There are some people who will have certain things to say about you being out of bed, young man,” she told Harry sternly. “No matter how you might try to excuse it.”

“I know that.” Harry’s smile was still on his lips. “And I don’t expect them to excuse it. I expect them to listen to me and then make their decisions based on that, not just on what they think is best for me.”

Madam Pomfrey did some more staring. Harry did some staring back, with no sign that he was ever uncomfortable.

“I never,” Madam Pomfrey said at last, and went into the back of the hospital wing to mutter to herself some more. Draco wondered if she had never had anyone stand up to her before. Considering how frightened everyone was of her disapproval, maybe she hadn’t.

Draco shook his head, dazed, as Harry towed him into the corridor. Once they got there, Harry faced him, put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, and smiled at him tenderly.

“It’s up to you how we go about this,” Harry said, “because it’s going to affect your life more than it does mine. People who won’t dare speak to me about it will think they can talk to you.” His face darkened, and one of his hands dropped away from Draco’s shoulder to grip his wand. “It is going to be my problem, but they don’t know that yet. What kind of announcement do you favor?”

Draco’s heart was going very fast. The corridor walls blurred around him and seemed unreal. It was the way he had felt right after the news had come that Harry had killed the Dark Lord. He had wanted this, hoped for this, so much that he didn’t know how to deal with his vision coming true. He half-expected to close his eyes and open them again in bed, with the dream fading and tattering around him.

But assuming it was real, and Harry was really giving him his choice, he felt free to make a choice he would never have made otherwise.

“I—I want to go into the Great Hall, and let everyone know you’re mine,” he said.

Harry’s hand squeezed him firmly, and Harry bent towards him, showing the daring smile that Draco had seen lurking behind his eyes all this time.

“Good,” Harry said softly.

*
Harry couldn’t feel the stone under his feet. If this was what “walking on air” felt like, then he never wanted to again. His lips hurt from his grin, and he paused outside the door of the Great Hall and exchanged half-crazed looks with Draco. Draco nodded.

Harry opened the door, and they stepped through it.

People’s heads turned; it was the middle of dinner, which was one of the reasons that Draco had dared to come to the hospital wing and see him. It made Harry angry to think about the way Draco’d had to sneak around and not come into the infirmary when he had the most right to see Harry out of anybody, but then he calmed himself. There was not going to be any more of that. What they were doing right now would put a stop to it.

Some of the students started to cheer. McGonagall rose to her feet—she’d been sitting in Dumbledore’s old chair—and peered at him, beaming, as if she thought that she should make a speech.

Then people caught sight of their clasped hands.

A low, ugly mutter traveled the length of the room. Harry ignored it outwardly, but he felt the way Draco’s hand flinched in his, and took hold of his wand. He paraded towards the Gryffindor table as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and compared to the time when Voldemort was alive, he didn’t.

But all the time, he was watching and waiting for the first attack.

It came from among the Gryffindors, something that irritated Harry but didn’t surprise him. One of the seventh-years stood up and confronted them, bristling with indignation. Harry didn’t know him well, but he thought his name was Cormac McLaggen.

“What’s this?” McLaggen was trying to make his voice sound menacing, but he only achieved loud. Harry tilted his head back and sneered at him. He almost wished he wasn’t wearing the glamour, because that would make his sneer more like Snape’s and more effective.

It seemed to be pretty effective anyway. McLaggen’s confidence faltered; his jaw fell slack, and suddenly he was staring at Harry as though he had never seen him before. Harry took advantage of that and shoved past him even as he spoke, determinedly pulling Draco towards the Gryffindor table.

“What does it look like? Like I’m dating Draco Malfoy?” Harry turned to face Draco and let his love shine through his eyes and his smile. That would convince people who would try to put the evidence of their linked hands aside. “Well, it’s true. I am.”

There was a storm of protests and snickers and complaints then, mostly from the Gryffindor table. The Hufflepuffs sat blinking, as if unsure how to react. The Ravenclaws were either calling out in interest or joining the Gryffindors in jeering. The Slytherins were silent, but Harry knew that would make Draco more nervous than any amount of catcalling.

“Harry, mate,” Seamus said, his voice louder than the rest in Harry’s immediate area. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m in love with Draco,” Harry said, daring and giddy and feeling as though it was no trouble at all to say things he would have been embarrassed about four days ago. Voldemort was gone. If he could survive the battle with Lord Snake-face, then he could survive anything. “And that he’s a bloody good kisser.”

That made some people who were trying to decide how to jump laugh, and Harry could feel the mood of the table become a bit friendlier. Seamus paused and cocked his head as if he hadn’t expected that answer and didn’t know how to react.

Then someone else cleared his throat. Harry turned and looked up. He had wondered what Ron would do.

Ron was on his feet, and his face was bright red, but he was clutching the table and sticking out his chest like someone determined to see this through to the end. “It’s true,” he said. “It’s all true. Harry told me and Hermione a while ago. He’s been dating Malfoy, and he’s—he’s not so bad for a Slytherin.” He said those words in a way that told Harry he couldn’t imagine the bitterness of them to someone like Ron, who had argued with Malfoy so many times.

“It’s not the best thing in the world,” Ron went on, eyes on the ground. “But Hermione and I both know that Malfoy’s been true to him, and he’s going to go on being true.” He shot Draco a darting look that said he had better be true if he knew what was good for him. Draco sneered back and started heaping his plate with food, as if he hadn’t a concern in creation. “And Harry deserves to be happy. He fought You-Know-Who for us. Who deserves to be happy more than him?” He took so deep a breath Harry was afraid he was going to faint, then turned and stuck his hand out to Draco.

Draco stared at it. Hermione, standing up behind Ron and leaning against his back with bright eyes, waited. So did most of the school, Harry thought, or at least all the school inside the Great Hall.

Draco reached out and shook Ron’s hand.

Harry caught Ron’s hand the minute Draco let it go and crushed it in a firm grip. He couldn’t speak, but he made sure Ron got the full benefit of his look.

Ron blushed more fiercely and sat down, muttering something about how “it was just the right thing to do, honestly.” Hermione hugged him and kissed the top of his head, which made him look as if he wanted to die on the spot.

For the rest of the meal, Harry and Draco managed to eat without any more insults, or any hexes, being sent their way. The rest of the Gryffindors kept giving them puzzled glances—and, in the case of McLaggen, annoyed ones—but for their first public appearance as a couple, Harry reckoned, it didn’t go too badly.

*

“Explain your thinking to me.” Severus kept his voice to a low, level tone, something he had discovered years ago inspired far more fear than yelling did.

Harry leaned against the door and looked up at him. He almost seemed amused, which irritated Severus more than anything else the brat had managed to do so far. This was serious. Did Harry realize that he should not have taken such a step without consulting Severus first? Severus was his father, the one primarily responsible for his safety, even if most people in the school did not realize that at the moment. If Harry had been too mad with freedom to think about the possibility that he would object to this, Draco at least should have summoned him the moment Harry came up with the idea.

Draco’s blindness in this matter troubled Severus almost more than his son’s.

“I was thinking that I’ve been doing what other people want my whole life,” Harry said casually. “I wanted to do something that would make me happy for a change. And acknowledging my relationship with Draco does that.” He nodded to Severus. “And I’d like to do the same thing when it comes to my relationship with you, if you’re agreeable.”

At least he did not announce it to the school already, perhaps by pointing at me and calling me “Dad” in public, Severus thought, reeling. He would have liked to reach out and put a hand on the table next to him, but that would have been weakness.

“The Death Eaters—” he began.

“Fuck the Death Eaters!” Harry said.

Severus felt his face stiffen. Finally, for the first time since he had cornered his son and demanded to know what he was doing, Harry’s smile faded. He shifted his feet and hunched his shoulders defensively.

Severus did not wish to put his son in fear. He knew Harry’s childhood too well at this point, despite the lack of detail, ever to wish for that. But Harry would listen to him, and he might as well start learning now that part of a proper parent-child relationship was obedience.

“I will not tolerate such language,” Severus said, biting off each word. “Nor do I believe that your Head of House would have, so do not give me her permissiveness as your excuse.” He had thought briefly of referring to Harry’s Muggle relatives and their likely tolerance, but only briefly. “Now. The Death Eaters remain a danger. You cannot deny that.”

“But how long are they going to remain a danger?” Harry insisted. He took a step forwards, and his courage seemed fully returned now, with dismaying quickness. “It could be years before they capture and arrest them all. I don’t know how many boltholes Voldemort had, but I bet it was a lot. I’m not going to put my life on hold until then. And besides, even if they didn’t know about you and Draco, they could always try for Ron and Hermione. There’s no reason for them not to. Yeah, you could say that you lot have the closer relationships to me, but I don’t think people like Rabastan Lestrange would care about that.”

Severus nodded reluctantly. Harry’s words made sense, and they answered the desire of his own heart, which compelled his agreement.

“You still should not have made the revelation in so public a fashion,” he said. He regretted, as he had regretted few things in his life, his decision to skip dinner that evening to catch up on his brewing. He had thought—foolishly, of course—that Harry was bound to stay in the hospital wing for at least another day and night.

“Why not?” Harry blinked and stared at him.

“I could have taught you how to manage it more diplomatically,” Severus said through his teeth. Harry, he knew, really did not understand, but in some ways that honest ignorance was more infuriating than all the play-pretend innocence in the world would have been. “And I should have been informed.”

“With respect, sir,” Harry said, standing up taller with his eyes flashing, “it wasn’t your decision. It was my decision, and Draco’s. If he agreed to it, then there’s nothing you could have added, and he did. And I would have waited and kept it secret if Draco had wanted to. But he didn’t.” Harry halted and stared up at Severus expectantly.

He said I could not expect him to behave like a normal child, Severus reminded himself as he fought to control his temper. Too stubborn, too independent, too used to raising himself. And I agreed to take up the challenge of raising him and relating to him in any case.

When he thought he could speak in a dignified manner and would not choke on his rage, he shook his head and said, “It was still foolish.”

“But why?” Harry folded his arms. “I could have told you, but I wouldn’t have changed my mind because of what you said.”

“So sure of that, are you?” Severus asked in the same low voice as before, with a sidelong glance.

Harry blinked. “Er,” he said. “Yes?” At least he sounded a bit less certain now.

Severus stared at him while inwardly sighing. He would have to lay down some rules, but he could not expect Harry to know what they were beforehand. Harry did not appear to think this would endanger him greatly, and Severus knew he would risk life and limb for Draco without a thought, so he might not have obeyed even if Severus had made him aware of a rule to tell his father about all life-changing decisions beforehand.

But in the future it will be different, he promised himself.

“You never did answer me,” Harry interrupted, before Severus could launch into a lecture. “Do you want our relationship to be public or not? This is your decision to make, this time,” he added generously. “I won’t do it without your say-so.”

Severus shut his mouth and stared at the bright, beaming face, alight with hope. He knew the answer Harry wanted. It was the answer his own heart would give.

But could they risk it? Despite his intense maturity in a few aspects of life, Harry was still a child in important ways. He thought of the short-term consequences. It was up to his father to think of the long-term ones.

On the other hand, considered soberly, Harry was right. There was no guarantee of absolute safety. Harry might conceal everything not currently public and still lose his friends, or Draco. And to be denied Harry’s bedside while he was dying because they had never let anyone know that Severus had a right to be there was a vision to haunt Severus’s nightmares.

He inclined his head, slowly. Harry’s eyes widened.

“You mean it?” he asked.

“I do,” Severus said, and swallowed to clear the blockage of his throat. “Mind, we will do it in a much more controlled fashion than you announced your—tie to Draco.” He was still not sure what the most soothing word for that particular relationship would be.

Then he could not have spoken if he wished, because Harry was embracing him.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

Only once, but it made Severus have to place one hand on Harry’s back and shut his eyes.

Comments

[ellie]

I love this story. I am sad that it's coming to an end.