Chapter Nine of 'Nova Cupiditas'- Time and Time's Ending

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Eight.

Title: Nova Cupiditas (9/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Attempted rape, issues of consent, violence, gore, sex, heavy angst, profanity. Ignores the epilogue.
Summary: Nova cupiditas—the curse that makes the victim desire someone they hate. There is no cure, and the consequences grow increasingly violent the more the desire is denied. And now someone has cursed Draco Malfoy to desire Harry Potter.
Author’s Notes: This is a very dark story. It will probably be between twelve and twenty chapters.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Nine—Time and Time’s Ending

“It would benefit you to give in to me and save yourself this useless flight.”

Lucius said that from behind him just as Harry reached the first wide turn in the stairs. Harry only had a second to judge from his voice where he was before a curse came flying between the bars of the banister and tried to cut him in half. Harry splayed himself sideways across some stairs and avoided it.

The banister on the other side didn’t. It cracked and hissed, and then flames sprang to life. House-elves squeaked as they appeared around it, occupied with dousing the fire. Harry flinched, but they didn’t seem to spare any attention for him. Lucius probably could have commanded them to hurt him easily, Harry thought, and sprinted on up the steps, away from them.

Why did the Malfoys and other pure-blood families have to have these grand staircases that curved and turned several times before reaching the next floor? Harry was out of breath by the time he finally sprang off the last step and arrived in a wide corridor with a door open at the far end. Of course, being a research wizard didn’t lend itself to as much exercise in the healthy fresh air as being an Auror or a Quidditch player would have, and most of Harry’s exercise in the last few days came from avoiding rape or murder.

From behind the door came a woman’s voice singing accompaniment to the notes of a piano. Harry paused for a moment, leaning against the nearest wall, and stifled the temptation to laugh. This song and his desperate flight from Lucius didn’t even seem to be part of the same world.

But a curse made the large rug at the top of the stairs fold itself up and shrivel away to nothing, and started Harry’s run again. He burst into Narcissa Malfoy’s private music room at the same moment as she hit a high note, on both instrument and voice, and the world around him vibrated like crystal about to break.

Harry barely had time to see one glimpse of a startled Narcissa swinging around to stare at him, and to note the brightness of the walls and the fresh, pale wood of the stool on which she sat. Even the piano was white instead of black, and the sunlight pouring through the windows made him blink.

“Mr. Potter.” Narcissa’s voice was not welcoming. She sat upright on the stool as she though she was a queen brought to judge a recalcitrant criminal. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Your husband is trying to kill me because he thinks that will release the curse on Draco,” Harry said. “He says that he’s willing to go to Azkaban for my murder if it will keep Draco safe. You have to stop him. Can you stop him? Will you?”

The speech sounded better in his memory later than it did at the time he gave it. His voice stuttered and rustled, and he had to stop to gasp in between several of the words. Narcissa’s face reflected, he thought, more distaste for the manner of his delivery than for what he had to say. Indeed, she was watching the sweat on her carpet from his hair and the bottom of his shirt long before she seemed to register what he was saying.

Then Lucius called his name cheerfully from the corridor, and Narcissa rose to her feet with a small shake of her head. “This cannot be permitted to go on,” she said. “I said that Draco should die with dignity. His father is trying to take that choice from him.” She gave Harry an oblique look. “And so are you, but in a less noisy manner, since you will inevitably fail.”

Harry swallowed. It was an odd reason to feel grateful for her help, but it seemed that she did mean to help him.

Narcissa closed the door of her music room and twitched her fingers on her wand. A powerful ward sprang up, though Harry could only feel it through a sudden silence and pressure on his ears rather than see it. He shivered. He knew how strong such a spell could be. He had to wonder what kinds of things Narcissa had done in this room that required everyone below to remain ignorant of them.

Draco’s mother turned to look at him. Harry sought, but didn’t find, a trace of the warmth he had seen in her during that moment in the Forbidden Forest when she had saved his life. She stood there like a marble woman with jewels for eyes. Her hair hung in a long plait down her back, a thin, precious gold that was too pale to be real.

“Lucius has not been right since he came back from Azkaban,” she said, stepping around him and towards a white couch with an ivory table at either end. Cautious, Harry followed her, wondering if she would spring a different trap on him at any moment. “He has not done something so vicious and stupid before, however. I suppose this means I will have to confront his madness.” She sighed in the manner of someone whose prized dog had pissed on the carpet.

Then she turned around and stared at him. “Why did you not cast a spell that would stop him, Mr. Potter? I know you are capable.”

Harry held back a little frown. She had been there in the Forbidden Forest at the moment of his “triumph” over Voldemort as well as at the duel in the Great Hall. She ought to know better than anyone that he wasn’t a wizard of enormous power and deadly skill. “I didn’t want to hurt Draco’s father,” he said. “Draco might never forgive me.”

Narcissa paused and stood there with her face held to him in perfect profile. Perhaps she thought he would treasure this memory or something, Harry decided. Then she shook her head. “How ridiculous, Mr. Potter. You should worry about defending your life before you worry about his feelings.”

“I worry about both,” Harry said stubbornly. “I came to you and risked you turning me away or turning you against your husband, after all.”

Narcissa shook her head slightly again. “It makes me wonder if Lucius is right about his belief that the object should die to preserve the victim’s sanity,” she murmured. “It makes me wonder if you would be willing to die, if that was the only way to free Draco.”

Harry took a deep breath. He still expected the wards to shatter and Lucius to come bursting through at any moment. This quiet, still, bright room was too far away from everything that had happened to him. He had to reconnect the two halves of his life somehow, and a violent disruption from the darker part seemed like the likeliest way.

But Narcissa went on watching him as if she did not intend to be disturbed, and Harry had to answer her. He shook his head back. “Not—really,” he said. “I’m sorry for Draco, and I want to give him the chance to preserve his integrity and who he really is. But I won’t do that at the sacrifice of my own life. I have goals and dreams and friends that have nothing to do with him.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” Narcissa’s eyes were enormous, and probably as dark as they could be given their light coloring in the first place. “Though I do not believe in your ability to find a cure, I would think that only someone as madly committed to the curse’s victim as the victim is to him would stand a chance of finding it. If one existed,” she finished, with a calm nod that made Harry’s brain hurt.

“I don’t want to give up,” Harry said. “And I think accepting death would only be another form of giving up. I might as well let Draco rape me, because that would ease him of a bit of the lust and might give us some more time to find the cure. But I won’t, because I know that it would destroy him, and me, in other ways.”

“Giving up is not in your nature,” Narcissa said. “I wonder if they knew that, the ones who cursed him?”

“I don’t think they thought it through,” Harry said shortly. “Otherwise, they would never try to curse him to desire someone whose research is in experimental magic. They must hate him so much—to use that curse—that they wouldn’t want to give him a chance of finding help.”

“Or they thought you hated him, too,” Narcissa whispered. “That you would glory in the chance to destroy one of your oldest rivals.” She lowered her chin. Her eyes were bright again, but direct and challenging in a way that Harry hadn’t felt with Lucius’s curses. “Have you ever hated like that, Mr. Potter? I wonder. I wonder if you’re capable of it. Hate like that can create marvels as well as problems, and desperation, like the desperation driving you to aid my son, cannot match it.”

Harry couldn’t speak out of sheer astonishment for a few minutes. Then he snorted and said, “I’m sorry. Are you honestly saying that I can’t win because I can’t hate enough?”

“It is one means of succeeding,” Narcissa said. “One I am intimately familiar with.” She turned her head to the side as if listening to something, and Harry did, too, thinking that Lucius might burst through one of those large, lit windows. But there was only the silence, and the brightness, which Harry was starting to think of as potent forces in themselves. “I would feel more at ease, I admit, if you played by the laws and the rules that I am familiar with.”

Harry sighed. “Will you defend me from your husband, Mrs. Malfoy? I’m at a loss as to what to do otherwise, I’ll admit. I don’t want to put Draco in the position of having to choose between me and his father.”

Narcissa’s pale eyebrows rose like the wings of gulls. “Why? You must be aware that he would inevitably choose you because he is under the curse. You cannot be afraid of his losing his partiality for you overnight.”

“I’m afraid of what the choice would do to him in the future,” Harry said quietly. “After he is restored. Family is everything to him, Mrs. Malfoy. I don’t want him to have to decide against it, even if he only makes the decision because he’s not in his right mind.”

Mrs. Malfoy was still. Then she said, “For the sake of your investment in my son’s future, which I honor, I will help you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry sighed again, this time in relief, and started to thank her. Narcissa held up a hand on which a slender silver ring shone. “Do not thank me. We are all fools together, and foolhardiness is not, in and of itself, an honor.”

Harry started to respond to that, in turn, and again Narcissa interrupted, but this time she seemed to genuinely listen to something beyond the wards that Harry couldn’t hear. Her face drew tight, and she moved at once towards the door of the music room and dismissed the ward with another finger-flick.

“Ma’am?” Harry trailed her. “Is something wrong?”

“A ward like a small silver bell rings to alert me that someone has cast an Unforgivable in my home,” Narcissa answered. “It rang now.”

Harry tried to burst past her, but she held up her wand and shook her head. “I shall go first, in case my husband tries to renew his vow to kill you.”

Harry gritted his teeth and followed her trailing robe down the stairs. He wanted to say that he was less afraid of Lucius right now than of the idea that Draco might have cursed his father, but he was sure Narcissa knew that, and didn’t care.

Let that not have happened. I want Draco to come back to his family welcome and proud, disdaining me, because that’s the way he should be.

If he felt a twinge at the thought of Draco disdaining him when he was trying so hard to help, well, it was inevitable. And Draco’s mental health was worth more than stupid little feelings Harry might have.

*

Draco watched as his father writhed under the Cruciatus, and felt nothing but the darkest and most intense satisfaction he had ever experienced.

Sometimes a small part of his memory flashed up to the surface of his mind like a fish rising through water. He remembered how his father had looked at him with pride, had taught him lessons, had stood by with unfaltering patience and a look of cool boredom until Draco came up with the right answer. Yes, that had happened. Draco could acknowledge those facts in the way that he acknowledged the influence of the wind and gravity.

But in the face of what he had seen happening, and heard from his father’s mouth—Lucius casting curses at the wards that wrapped his mother’s music room and swearing that he would destroy Harry—Draco had no hesitation in using the Unforgivable. He would have used something else, but this was the most painful spell he knew.

He prowled in a circle around Lucius now, coldly contemplative, wondering what he should use next. Perhaps he should lift the spell for a time, in fact, because he hadn’t given Lucius a chance to tell him whether Harry was hurt or not, and that was wrong. He ought to think more of his partner’s injuries than doing injuries in return, he decided, and canceled the curse with a swish of his wand.

“Draco.”

Draco could feel the delight that surged through his body in response to that one word. Harry should say it more often, he thought as he spun around and faced him.

Harry stood at the bottom of the grand staircase with wide eyes and a hand reaching out as if he wanted to either grab Draco and drag him closer or keep him at a distance. Draco knew what interpretation he wanted to put on the gesture, so he let his imagination choose for him and stepped forwards with a smile. He would get as close to Harry as Harry wanted.

“I was too late,” Harry said. “I wanted to keep you from this.”

“Why?” Draco asked. Another step, and he was within range of Harry. He took his wrist in one hand and spent a moment smoothing his fingers back and forth, admiring the fineness of the bones and the tightness of the tendons, before he pulled Harry closer still and fastened his mouth in place over Harry’s lips.

Harry didn’t kiss back nearly as long as Draco would have preferred, breaking free to stare at him with some mournfulness. “I didn’t want you to curse your father,” he said.

“Why not?” Draco ran a proud, possessive hand up Harry’s flank. He could use more feeding, Draco thought. He was too thin, and while the slender look was all very well in a research wizard, Draco intended to see that Harry did more with his life than pure work. Draco had enough money to permit Harry to see dozens of exotic places. He would buy Harry dragons’ eggs and elephants, if that was what he wanted. They would meet Veela and sirens with impunity. Once he had fully secured his claim on Harry, Draco would fear no one stealing Harry’s attention. They would be one, and Harry’s desires would be Draco’s. “I would be happy to do anything like that, and more, for you, Harry. Don’t you know that by now?” Maybe the problem was Harry’s lack of certainty rather than Harry’s lack of knowledge, though, so Draco took Harry’s face in his hands and gazed into his eyes. “Don’t you see the sincerity in me?” he whispered.

Someone cleared their throat. Draco whipped around, more irritated than he could say that someone would interrupt now.

His mother stood behind Harry on the stairs. She had her wand in her hand, aimed vaguely in Harry’s direction. Draco put his body between them, and then paused, thinking. His mother had obviously been in the music room upstairs. Harry had run there in search of shelter. Then the wards had gone up.

They had been locked there in privacy, where no one could see—or hear—them.

Draco aimed his wand back at his mother. For a moment, shock made her face paler than it had been. She raised a hand, fingers splayed, and laid her wand on the floor. Draco nodded. “A few steps further back from him, and you’ll do well,” he growled.

His mother retreated. Harry was tugging on his shoulder, but Draco couldn’t help him right now. He was more focused on keeping what was his, and keeping Harry from an obvious danger. His mother might know fewer painful spells than his father, but she knew some more dangerous ones that affected the mind and the emotions, and might wrest Harry away from him.

“Draco,” Harry said, voice so anguished that Draco turned around again. He couldn’t stand that level of pain, even to keep Harry safe. He cupped Harry’s cheek and stared into his eyes.

“What?” he asked. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

*

Harry closed his eyes because he was afraid that he would start weeping. He had hoped—he had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. That Draco wouldn’t hurt anyone else before Harry could manage to remove the curse, and that he would be able to go back to his life without his relationships unduly disrupted. Cursing Ron was horrible, but Draco and Ron had never had a relationship to speak of. His family was different.

Instead, he had cursed Lucius and threatened Narcissa.

And Harry was no longer sure the Malfoys were sane enough, or at least had standards enough like his, to forgive Draco because he was under the curse.

“Draco,” he said. “Are you going to listen to me?”

“I never want to do anything else.” Draco’s eyes burned with anxiety as he dipped his head. He seemed to think that he would see Harry better from up close.

Harry swallowed. He reached up to frame Draco’s face with his hands in turn, ignoring the hiss from Narcissa. He would have to hope that she would understand why this gesture was necessary to calm Draco. At least she ought to glimpse the necessity for keeping quiet in the glare of naked hatred that Draco directed her way.

“These are your family,” Harry said quietly. “Your father and your mother. Even if they threaten me, I don’t want you to attack them. They’re only doing what they think is best to protect you.”

Draco froze like a dog on a leash, trembling with eagerness. It was long moments before he said something. That actually made Harry hopeful. He thought that his words might be sinking home.

Then Draco shook his head slightly and asked, “Do you agree with—my father?” He gave Lucius the name reluctantly, Harry thought. “Because I won’t let you commit suicide to save my life. My life would be worth nothing without you.”

“I like my life,” Harry said. “I don’t want to die. I won’t sacrifice myself to that extent for you.” Draco beamed at him, and Harry had to look at the floor so that he would have the strength of will to continue. It was seductive, he thought, being the focus of someone’s every thought like that. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, especially not in his conversation with Narcissa, but it was. He had given attention to certain goals in the past, like defeating Voldemort, and he knew that he had become the focus of people’s fantasies. But he also knew that Draco couldn’t care less about his heroic reputation.

He always had to remember that this was a curse and Draco would have killed himself before he touched Harry like this willingly.

“But I am going to do lots of other things,” Harry said. “Things you might not like. I’m going to ask you to treat people decently, and realize that they don’t want to have sex with me.” He gestured to Narcissa, who was watching them closely. “She doesn’t want to touch me. In her eyes, I have dirty blood, and she’s married to your father, someone much more to her taste.”

Draco tensed again. Harry thought he could see Harry’s persuasion and the relief of being free of a rival fighting in his mind with the curse’s tendency to suspect everyone. Then Draco shook his head and said, “People can’t despise you, either.”

Harry wanted to laugh, but didn’t, because he knew the laughter would end in hysteria. “I can’t control what other people think about me, Draco. I can try to influence their thoughts in a positive direction, sure, but I can’t make them like me.”

“With me around, you can.” Draco drew Harry towards him, sheltering Harry in the curve of his arm, while he seemed prepared to aim his wand at Narcissa again.

Harry looked at her with a grimace. He didn’t know for certain what result keeping Draco around his family might have, but it seemed increasingly likely to be a bad one. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll have to take him away. I hope that your husband manages to recover in time.”

Narcissa brushed past them, Draco’s wand tracking her unerringly, and knelt down next to Lucius, robes puddling gracefully around her. Her hand rested on Lucius’s chest. Her cold blue eyes stayed on them, though. “Will you report him for attempting to kill you?”

Draco snarled. Harry pushed down hard on his arm and shook his head. “That won’t help,” he said. “I have to worry about solving the problem of this curse before all else, not pressing charges.”

“We don’t have to press charges,” Draco said. “Of course not.” Harry glanced up, hoping, and Draco smiled down at him before giving his parents a cold glance. “I can simply kill him, and that will defend you.”

Harry sighed.

“I understand.”

Those words made Harry look back up. Narcissa was nodding to him. “I understand,” she repeated. “I comprehend the nature of the curse now, and why you believe that Draco must be cured rather than removing his object.” She didn’t want to say that Lucius had tried to kill Harry again, Harry thought, not with Draco already at the snapping point. “They have tried to humble and humiliate us. They will not succeed. You may count on my support, Mr. Potter.”

Harry swallowed air, and then said, “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Will you look through the books here to see what you can find concerning Nova Cupiditas? I don’t think it’s safe for us to come back here for some time.”

“Or, at the very least, not healthy,” Narcissa said. She might have smiled, but perhaps the brightness in her eyes was due to a different cause. Certainly her lips didn’t move. “Go.”

Harry led Draco out of the house, and found him happy to be led. His docility worried Harry, but no more than the fact that he showed no regret for cursing his father. He was destroying his life, bit by bit, Harry thought—which was what the Muggleborn fanatics had intended all along, although they had probably thought the destruction would happen sooner.

I have to help him. No matter what it takes, short of my death or murdering an innocent.

They Apparated back to Harry’s house and walked in. Harry aimed for the lab, hoping that Draco would consent to enter the warded circle again while he was in this calm mood. Then perhaps Harry could find another spell that would return him to his right mind.

If he could. It hadn’t escaped Harry’s attention that the periods of Draco’s lucidity were already shortening, and becoming harder and harder to restore.

He had reached out for the top of the stairs before Draco spun him abruptly and pressed him against the wall. Harry stared into his eyes, and Draco gave him a deep, rich, soothing smile.

“I went about this the wrong way,” he said. “I attacked you instead of seducing you. No wonder you thought I had rape in mind.”

“This isn’t you,” Harry said, and weighted his voice with as much quiet force as he could. If he could keep reminding Draco of who he really was, then that might help more than anything else would short of a real cure. “You hate me. You have to remember that. You’re a member of one of the oldest and proudest pure-blood families. You have to remember that.”

Draco shook his head, smiling. “I used to be like that. Now I’m like this. I love you, Harry.”

Harry was still gaping at him when Draco added, “So here’s my try at seducing you,” slid a tender hand behind his neck, and pressed a gentle but insistent tongue into his mouth.