Chapter Thirteen of 'Changing of the Guard'- Backbiting and Forward-Looking

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Chapter Thirteen—Backbiting and Forward-Looking

Draco had never felt such vast disbelief as he did when he and Brian walked back into the great hall of Clothilde Castle, arm-in-arm. He paused and sniffed the air, trying to decide what it smelled like. Salt and frost, probably. With one accord, the room was trying to sweat or freeze them out.

You can’t do that anymore, Draco thought, tightening his hold on Brian’s forearm as the memory of that incredible pleasure spiraled through him. There’s nothing you can do to me that I’ll feel the force of, not next to that.

Then he saw a familiar face glaring at him from a nearby pocket of people, and grinned. Inwardly, however, it had the effect of putting some frost on his glee at last. Of course there were people outside the bedroom, and of course they had still to be dealt with. He shouldn’t let his confidence carry him away.

He leaned towards Brian, aware that everyone in the room was watching him do so, and resisting the impulse to preen under the attention. “That woman over there is Pansy Parkinson,” he whispered into Brian’s ear. The other man shivered. Draco wanted to crow. He gave himself a moment to get over that before he continued. “One of my oldest and dearest friends, and at the moment she’s probably furious because I didn’t tell her about this beforehand. Shall we go over and introduce you to her?”

“If you like.” Brian’s voice was soft.

Draco pulled away enough to stare into his face. Brian met his eyes, then frowned and looked down at his hands. “Yes,” he said, more strongly. “I’d like to meet her.”

Draco thought he might know what was wrong. He ran a hand up the other man’s arm. “I don’t plan on kicking you out of bed in a month,” he said. “Or a month beyond that, even.” That was as much as he was willing to commit to, since even now he could not say if his alliance with Brian would be a permanent one, but surely Brian understood that and needed only a few mild words to soothe his anxieties. “You need not fear that this meant more to you than it did to me. How could it, when our magic made us open to each other like that?”

*

Harry bit down on his tongue. Otherwise, he might have screamed, And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of!

The worst thing had happened that could. Harry had forgotten that this was just a job, but that wasn’t a disaster. There had been a few jobs in the past, usually early ones, where the same thing had happened. But his client had always retained the proper emotional distance, and that had helped Harry find his way back to solid ground.

Now Draco had forgotten that he’d hired Brian, that he was paying him, that this could never become the kind of relationship his casual touches and shining eyes since their—experience—said it was already. And without help, how would Harry get out of the morass he’d sunk himself in?

Especially when he had to find a way to do it without really rejecting Draco? What they’d shared was too strong to let him live with his conscience if he did so. He’d seen too many of the vulnerable places Draco usually kept secret, and that had to be respected and reciprocated.

Why? Harry snarled at himself.

Because it does, said his conscience in an implacably Gryffindorish way.

But of course he could show none of that conflict to Draco. Though obviously he couldn’t count on Draco’s desire to live a pure-blood life—which included guarding his emotions—the way he thought he could, he would just have to work around this. He would have to find a way.

And you’ve always found a way before, his memory reminded him. You made a life—lives—for yourself the way that no one thought Harry Potter could after he killed Voldemort. They said he would be forever defined by that one deed. Instead, he’s created multiple definitions of himself.

Harry lifted his head. Yes, he could do this. And he would watch closely and observe. Possibly the people in Draco’s life who distrusted him, including Narcissa and Pansy Parkinson, could actually become his allies.

In fact…

The seeds of a plan sprang up in Harry’s mind then, and he smiled sincerely at Draco and took his arm with a will. “I do know that,” he said. “And since I’m going to stick around for a while, I’d better meet your friends, shan’t I?”

*

Draco didn’t nuzzle against Brian’s neck in gratitude only because he had such a strong will. But that will wasn’t enough to prevent him from smirking as he guided Brian towards Pansy. She really did look furious. This would probably be better than the time Draco had spelled half the Hufflepuffs’ hair pink using one of her cosmetic potions, and hadn’t told her beforehand he’d be doing so.

“Draco,” she said, and inclined her head stiffly. Her companion was, of course, not her own lover; that man was a Muggle who couldn’t come to pure-blood parties like this. Draco gave the date a single, dismissive glance; he had watery blue eyes, a long-jawed face, and, of course, an expression of horror, but it was not a very interesting expression of horror, the way some of the faces around them wore, so Draco did not feel compelled to pay attention to him. “I suppose your—friend—needs an introduction?”

“Of course.” Draco stepped a little behind Brian and put his hands on his shoulders. It both made him look strong and protective, utterly joined to his “boyfriend,” and gave him an excuse to touch Brian. “This is Brian Montgomery. And you should know, Pansy, that he’s not my friend. He’s my lover.”

Several people around them turned away at that. Draco swallowed a smirk. So they could watch him and Brian kiss in the middle of the dance floor and then come back only twenty minutes later, but the word disgusted them?

Of course, Draco thought a moment later, struck by a realization he’d never had before. So much of what happens under our noses—under the noses of people like my father—is simply not talked about. Silence is the great weapon we all employ against the things we don’t want to deal with. To announce it aloud is more shocking than doing it, because not speaking about what you did would allow everyone else to ignore it, too.

His hands tightened on Brian’s shoulders. He didn’t plan to deny him. He didn’t plan to let him go, either, though Draco suspected it would take more than just seduction to make Brian realize how much had changed.

That was all right. The emotional bond that had connected them had let Draco feel Brian’s own delight and wonder, and not a shadow of the ulterior motives he would have expected if Brian was indeed working for someone else. And really, was that very likely? Draco had to admit that it probably wasn’t, not when he himself had approached Metamorphosis and picked the actor. The Manager had only suggested Brian. He couldn’t have known beforehand that Draco would require someone like this; nor could he have known how soon Draco wanted him or how long he’d need him.

So he probably didn’t have any mysterious masters after all, and Draco could laugh at his own suspicions. And that meant Brian was his.

He came back to the present to see Brian bowing courteously to Pansy. This, of course, meant she’d refused to extend her hand to him. Draco clucked his tongue, stepped around Brian, and picked up his best friend’s fingers, which lay limp and cold in his. Then he forcibly connected them with Brian’s, who had obediently held out his own hand when he realized what Draco was doing.

“This,” Pansy said remotely, staring over Brian’s head, “is undoubtedly the stupidest stunt you’ve ever pulled in your life.”

“There have been a few that were worse,” Draco said, and moved so he was leaning into Brian’s warmth this time. He wanted it. And he saw no reason to deny himself that, not when everyone at the party knew they were lovers, now.

“Not many.” Pansy flexed her fingers, trying to pull her hand free, but Brian did keep it for a moment longer. Draco noticed a devilish shadow in his blue eyes. And of course, when Pansy abruptly gave her arm a hard yank, Brian let her go without a fuss, blinking innocently, and making it seem to any observers as if Pansy had been the rude one.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Brian for a moment, then raised a falsely sweet smile to Draco. “If you’ll just fetch drinks for us, perhaps I can get to know your new—Mr. Montgomery a little, Draco?”

“Why shouldn’t you send your date to get the drinks?” Draco asked, and leaned more fully into Brian. “I’m comfortable here.”

“But a gentleman always obliges a lady,” Pansy said. “Or ladies.” She looked directly at Brian now.

“How fortunate that I’m not actually a woman, the way you’re trying to imply,” Brian said helpfully, flashing her a sweet smile that was a better mask than hers. “I assure you, Draco can feel that I’m not a woman.”

Pansy’s lips tightened. Interestingly, Draco noticed, there was no disgust mixed in with her expression, just hostility and wariness. Perhaps she thought she could not actually show much disgust, since Draco knew about her Muggle lover—a person most of pure-blood society would also have distrusted—and she knew he had slept with men before this.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “You go, Joshua.”

Her lantern-jawed date stared at her. “And leave you here with these—queers?”

“I can assure you,” Brian said, peering over Draco’s head, “neither of us is at all interested in your girlfriend. You ought to feel better leaving her with us than anyone else in the room.” He swept Joshua up and down with a glance that said he couldn’t have offered much competition, should Pansy decide she wanted someone else.

Joshua stiffened, but stamped off, looking both irritated and humiliated. Draco smiled. Pansy had made a long tradition out of harassing the women he’d taken as dates to parties when he hadn’t been interested in them at all; it was only fair that Brian should return the favor, even if he understood nothing about the tradition he was participating in.

He fits into my life so well already. What objection can Pansy make?

From the way her jaw worked, she had thought of a few.

*

Pansy took a step close to Draco the moment her date was out of sight. She had lowered her voice, but Harry made out every word anyway, sharp as cut glass. “How could you have done this?”

“Oh, it was quite easy,” Draco said, with a laziness in his voice that snared Harry’s attention at once, because it was new. He’d held himself at least a little aloof in every conversation they’d had so far, or at least every conversation in the hearing of someone else. Now he could relax, and he did not care who knew it. It was more than the languor of great sex, Harry thought. He feels safe with me. “There’s this process called dating, you must have heard of it—“

Pansy shook her head. There was no joking in her expression at all. Harry liked her the better for that. She was really concerned about Draco, perhaps in the same way Narcissa had been. Yes, she could be an ally in urging Draco away from him and back towards his normal life. “Nothing is worth what you’re giving up by acting out against society in this way, Draco. Nothing.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Draco, and casually linked his hand with Harry’s. Harry had not even realized he’d curved an arm around Draco’s chest, his fingers splayed in the middle of his stomach. Draco made the gesture as if he’d done it a thousand times.

And he probably does feel like he has, Harry thought, experiencing another surge of irritation and resentment against himself for having allowed things to get as far as they had. That connection we just shared allowed us to skip over some of the preliminary steps to intimacy. He probably feels like we’re real lovers, real friends.

Harry felt the beginnings of pity. They weren’t, of course, and it would hurt Draco all the more if he were allowed to go on believing that they were—or to start believing they were. Harry had to extricate them both from this situation, somehow.

Pansy’s eyes came up and lingered on his face, as if she were trying to see what in Brian made him worth Draco’s risking his social reputation, or trying to identify him. Harry gave her as inviting a look as he possibly could.

Some spark caught in Pansy’s eyes, and she nodded to herself. “Well,” she said in a normal tone of voice. “If you really are insistent on being with him, Draco, then I should get to know him, don’t you think? Someone needs to warn your—lover—“ Her voice cracked, but she still said the word. Harry was impressed. “Of your many bad tendencies.”

Draco straightened and blinked at her, then turned to give Harry a suspicious look. Harry blinked back at him. Of course Draco would wonder what had made Pansy suddenly sound accepting, but he could not think it was anything Brian had done, especially when he had teased her just a moment ago.

“Oh, do go on, Draco,” Harry said in Brian’s voice, making himself sound amused and gentle. “I’ll have to get to know your friends sometime, won’t I? They’re part of your life, and so am I.”

Draco smiled a little, with an edge to it that Harry didn’t entirely like or understand. “Yes, you are,” he said, and leaned in to brush his lips against Harry’s cheek. That motion hid his murmur into Harry’s ear. “You are. Don’t let her belittle you or guilt you into going away.”

And he stood and sauntered casually towards a group of people who were trying to pretend he didn’t exist. Harry smiled. At least he would probably have fun.

He glanced quickly around to make sure that Joshua wasn’t coming back, then gave his full attention to Pansy. “I want Draco to be happy,” he said. Enough of dancing around the subject and playing games with it. We probably won’t have long to talk. “Tell me how I can extricate myself from his life and still leave him that way, and I’ll follow your advice.”

*

Draco could feel the excessive concentration of the group he approached, which included Marigold Moonstone and some lesser Clothilde relatives. They were trying to freeze him out, cut him without even refusing to look at him. They just all happened to be looking in a different direction.

“Hello,” he greeted Marigold. She gasped and clutched at her skirts, but didn’t glance up. Her cheeks were awfully red, of course. “We had a discussion of gay sex the other night. Now you’ve had a chance to see how part of it works. What did you think? Do you still believe that I need a woman to make myself excited?”

“Stay away from her.” A young man shouldered forwards and planted himself between Marigold and Draco. Then he seemed to realize exactly what he’d done and flinched, but lifted his chin and tried to pretend to courage. “She’s practically a child still, and I’ve heard all about what your kind do to children.”

“Someone needs to correct the myths that circulate about gay men, I see,” said Draco, even though the insult had irritated him, much as the fat wizard’s insults in Diagon Alley had. But he’d signed up for this when he decided to come out, or pretend to come out. “Either we’re so busy fucking men that we never look at women, or we prey on children of both sexes because that’s just the way we are. Marigold’s female. You must have noticed,” he added helpfully, because the young man had stepped away from him and practically slammed his head into Marigold’s breasts.

“You can’t confuse me, you creature,” said the young man, and tucked his hands under his elbows as if the gesture would make him look stern instead of defensive. “You’ll say all sorts of things that sound reasonable, and then you go away and get stuck up the duff. Or stick something up there.” He looked ill thinking about it. Then he paused, shook his head, and burst out, “How can you do that? Do you have the least idea how many diseases—“

“There are just as many diseases to be got from the normal process of sex, as I understand it,” Draco said, and looked for just a moment at some scars near the man’s mouth. They were probably the remnants of childhood pimples, but they could as easily have been from some of the more, ah, wart-like illnesses traded around through sex. The people around the young man went purple or scarlet or white as they thought the insult deserved, and he clenched his fists.

“You—“ said the man, and then shook his head, as if he could not find the words necessary to speak his outrage. “How dare you speak about that subject in front of young maidens,” he settled for whispering at last, indicating the blushing Marigold.

Draco gave a lazy shrug, successfully resisting the impulse to turn around and see what Pansy and Brian were doing. “You were the one who brought it up.”

*

“Extricate yourself,” said Pansy, and tapped her fingers against her arm, as she might have if she’d had a fan. She would have looked good with one, Harry thought. The pug-faced girl he’d known in school had grown into a stern, majestic woman who appeared more at home in her formal robes and surroundings than half the pure-bloods here. “Why would you want that, if you love Draco so much?” Her lip curled on the word love, but again she managed to say it, and again Harry was impressed.

“Because the process of coming out was nothing like I thought it would be.” Harry shook his head, and made sure his best expression of remorse appeared on his face by thinking of Hester Rann, his most melancholy persona. “I thought it would grant Draco at least some happiness. He told me it would, that he couldn’t lie to his parents anymore and that he wanted his friends to know who he really was. Instead, both his parents, not just his father, have turned against him, and he’s losing status, even if he doesn’t realize it.” He shuddered a little and closed his eyes. “As you said, there are some sacrifices that nothing is worth.”

Pansy said nothing. Harry kept his eyes shut. Opening them would make him seem too eager. Besides, he wanted to marshal his thoughts, which would need to go in one of two directions dependent on her response.

“Thank you, Joshua, yes, he’s been fine, go away,” Pansy said abruptly, and Harry looked, because he wanted to see if Joshua would actually go. He did, after a sheep-like blink at Pansy, and he took one of the drinks he’d fetched with him. Pansy sipped the other. There were limits to her politeness to Brian, Harry supposed.

“Well,” Pansy said at last, “I would not have expected you to understand how much status and participation in our world mean to a pure-blood wizard, especially since the war.” She took a step away from him. “We’re besieged, you know this? The wider wizarding world has no reason to like us unless we assimilate and stop keeping to ourselves. And our culture will be gone in a few generations if we do that.”

“I know,” Harry said softly. He chose his most earnest expression this time. “I hadn’t realized until now just how well Draco fit into this world, because we always met outside of it—by necessity—and he seemed separate from it. Now I do. Now I see, even if he can’t, the way he’s losing pieces of himself.” He shook his head. “I want to add to his life, not detract from it. And I’ve tried during the last several days to think of some way I can do that, but I can’t. And Draco refuses to pretend to break up with me and go back into hiding the way I wanted to do. He’s committed to this. All or nothing.”

“I think I might know why,” Pansy murmured. “His relationship with his father was rocky even before this.”

“But does he deserve to have every relationship cut off, merely so that he can stay with me?” Harry asked. “His mother? His friend Blaise, whom he’s mentioned a time or two?” He caught her eye. “You?”

“He does not,” Pansy said. Something had relaxed behind her face. Harry thought she’d probably decided that “Brian” wasn’t tricking her, or at least that he cared more about Draco than she’d thought he could. “Talking about lovers standing alone against the world is very romantic, of course, but Draco’s life has no room for that kind of romance.”

Harry felt himself flood with frantic relief. Draco’s friends all agreed that his liaison with Brian was much better as a temporary arrangement. And of course it would be abbreviated anyway, by Narcissa’s knowledge of his identity.

“I will try my very hardest to give Draco the freedom and independence and happiness he needs,” Harry said, “if you’ll help. But I’m afraid I don’t know how to make him stop paying attention to me just like that.”

“He won’t,” Pansy said with quiet certainty. “Not if you mean enough for him to come out with you like this.” She paused, her expression calculating. “You really are willing to sacrifice your relationship with him?”

“I love him more than my own happiness,” Harry said. And that was the way Brian would probably have felt if he existed, so it was not really a lie.

Pansy nodded. “I’ll owl you, then. I’m afraid I don’t have a plan at the moment, either.” She paused and stared hard at Harry. “I would draw back in small ways if you can. The expression on his face when he entered the room…he won’t let you go easily.”

“But I’m wrong for him,” Harry said, a little surprised. He had thought Pansy would say that, past a certain point, Draco would give Brian up in disgust, particularly if he figured out that Brian had been plotting against him.

“He thinks you’re very, very right,” Pansy said. “It’s a delusion, of course, but his delusions can be powerful. Be careful.”

Goddamn it, why do things like this happen to me Harry thought. Who would ever have believed that Draco Malfoy, of all people, might think he’s falling in love with a hired actor?

“I’ll try,” Harry said. “But I can’t withdraw from him completely now. I just—can’t.”

“Then leave most of the plan to me,” Pansy said, and patted his arm soothingly. “You’ll only have to agree to do what I tell you to.”

“You’ve had enough time to get to know each other, certainly?” Draco said, suddenly appearing at Harry’s side.

Harry’s breath caught in spite of himself. Knowing he had been inside Draco’s mind and emotions as well as his body made a difference for him. He wasn’t sure if it was in danger of falling in love, too, but if so, he knew why. His arm went around Draco’s waist, and he bowed his head to take in the scent of his hair, unconscious of his actions until he had performed them.

He looked up to find Pansy shaking her head slightly, but she said, “Yes, Draco, I think we understand each other and our relationships to you quite well now.”

Please, I hope so, Harry thought. Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of this on my own, no matter how necessary it is. No matter how much I know it would hurt him less to lose me permanently than to find out who I really was, and that he’d been betrayed.

Draco turned his head so his chin rested on Harry’s shoulder. Harry closed his eyes and drowned.

Chapter 14.