lomonaaeren

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Chapter Thirty-Two—Reaction

Harry could feel the tremors creeping into his hands again as his kiss with Draco came to an end. He would have to face the people staring at his back now, and he didn’t think all of them would be clapping. At least, Pansy and Blaise would not, and they were the two people in the room whose opinion would be most important to Draco. Harry surprised himself with how badly he wanted to impress them.

At least, I do if Blaise is not intent on stealing Draco.

He turned around, his hand resting on Draco’s shoulder partially so he could hide it and thus disguise some of the tremors, and faced the room again. Draco crowded close to him before he could say anything, and Harry glanced at him in surprise. He received the most piercing look he’d ever got in his life in return. He thought it tore through several of his more spectacular uncertainties, and left him swallowing, startled and flayed but unexpectedly exhilarated.

Draco’s on my side. If I can remember that, then I should have the courage to take on most of the accusations that they fling at me.

He lifted his eyebrows and waited, suddenly sure that he need not speak first. After all, he had made a speech and then kissed Draco. He could not state his case more clearly. If someone had an objection, a question, or a complaint, they would have to give it.

Nusante spoke first, as Harry had thought he might. He was good at quick reactions, even if he doubted himself during the building of long-range plans. “Why did you hide for so long?” he asked, stepping past several people who were trying to crowd closer as if that would give them a better look at Harry’s scar. “We could have used your help years ago. If you had come out after the war, when your popularity was at its height, we might not be having problems with the Ministry now.” His voice was soaring rapidly. Harry winced.

Draco’s hand settled on the small of his back, fingers splayed and then softly stroking in towards the center. Harry relaxed. Nusante’s accusations still hurt, but like beestings instead of knives.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t,” Harry said, “now that I’ve been witness to what the Ministry thinks on this issue. But, at the time, the last thing I wanted was more publicity. I don’t think the battle would have ended, anyway,” he added, as Nusante opened his mouth, probably to argue that Harry shouldn’t be so selfish. “Yes, it might have been lessened, and easier now, and for that I apologize. But it’s not my responsibility or my power to make the whole of the wizarding world accept gay men and women—and bisexual men and women—all at once. I’ll give you what help I can now. Blaming me for what help I didn’t give in the past will be counterproductive for all of us.”

He stopped, barely controlling his urge to pant. Where had those words come from? Why wasn’t he curling up in pain and guilt, or at least awaiting the advice of the merciless voice before he spoke?

Draco hugged him, pulling him closer than ever. Harry thought he heard a whisper from him, along the lines of, “I’m so proud of you.” But he didn’t dare look at Draco right now. He would break if he did.

“Even if we ignore that question, there’s something else,” called someone who stood near the back of the room. “Where have you been for the past ten years? You still could have helped us. Created an identity for yourself, one that could funnel money and approval our way, so no one would ever know it was you.”

Harry bit his lip savagely. He could feel laughter churning like a volatile potion in his stomach, and he didn’t dare let it out. He would never stop until they took him to St. Mungo’s if he did.

“That’s true,” he said. “I could have. Instead, I hid and spread rumors about my own weakness. I was trying to excuse any public responsibility I might have had, and destroy my own reputation.”

“Why?” said someone. Though Harry couldn’t be certain because the voice died too fast, he thought it might have been Pansy.

“Because—“

“That’s mad,” someone else interrupted. “Do we want a madman leading us?”

“He should have come forwards before now if he wanted a place in the rebellion,” came the murmured agreement from what seemed to be several corners at once. “Nusante is enough for us.”

“What does he actually have to offer, with his power so decayed?” demanded what sounded like the person who had said he should create an identity. “Maybe it would be better if he stayed hidden, so people don’t start thinking of us as ‘Harry Potter’s group’ instead of paying attention to our message.”

Harry found himself lifting a hand before he knew what would happen. Anger had blasted through him like a fountain of fire, and the best way to handle it was to call forth his magic and spread it through the room like invisible smoke, the way he had done when he focused it on Lucius in the Malfoys’ dining room.

The complaining voices fell silent at once. Harry saw jaws drop open, eyes glaze, and people shiver. Some of those who probably had an erotic reaction to powerful magic, like Draco, licked their lips. Others huddled, and Harry realized that simply using his power without words to accompany it could seem like a threat.

“This is what I have to offer,” he said quietly. “The power to defend us from our enemies. The courage to use that power—now, if I didn’t before. And the ability to lead a charge if need be.” He dropped his hand and retracted the magic, so that it swirled around his shoulders in a sparkling haze, leaving the crowd free to think and react more clearly. “I know some of you distrust me, and it’s true that I’ve been a coward in the past. But now that I’ve come out—“ announced myself, put myself on a fucking target, babbled the most frightened part of him “—I’ll be associated with the movement no matter what you do. Use me instead of distancing yourself from me. It’s the best way.”

Draco’s jaw dug into his shoulder, and Harry reckoned he was irritated about Harry’s wording. But it was not Draco’s support he needed at the moment. He kept his eyes on the crowd, and tried to ignore the growing feeling that he had no idea what he was really doing.

Blaise stepped forwards, and he was too close not to draw Harry’s attention at once. He had a smile on his face that was hard to read, and his eyes traveled back and forth from Draco to Harry, just slowly enough to escape looking as if he were darting them frantically about. “I was wondering how you met Draco,” he said. “And why you chose to reveal yourself now, when you’d successfully hidden your identity for weeks.”

Draco’s jaw dug into his shoulder again. Harry ignored the signal, if it was meant as one. He had to get used to telling the story that would cover his odd behavior, sooner or later, and he would prefer it if he were allowed to make up the lies.

“I met him at one of the locations in the wizarding world that are frequented by gay wizards looking for partners,” he said easily. One could call Metamorphosis by such a description if one stretched the truth far enough. “I didn’t know what to think of him at first; I thought it was a trick, or perhaps he’d drag me into the open the moment he found out. But we came to a tentative liking for one another, and whilst he didn’t agree with my reasons for remaining hidden, there were more important things to talk about.” He gave Draco a sidelong glance and a wink. “And to spend time doing, for that matter.

“Time went on. We got to know each other better and better. The connection between us…” Harry let his breath flutter out shakily. “I don’t think you were in the country then, Zabini, but ask anyone who was in the appropriate party at Clothilde Castle. Or ask his parents, though you might not have much luck getting a coherent answer out of them.”

Zabini smiled, looking as if the expression had been dragged out of him. “And why did you come out in public now?” he pressed.

“Because that’s what I wanted to do next,” Harry said simply. “And Draco’s gesture—which not even I knew he was going to make—surprised and inspired me.” He reached back over his shoulder, and Draco’s hand was there to grip his, exactly as if they often touched each other like this. “I didn’t want him to stand alone. And I know how much he’s risking. It was one thing when we came out to his parents and knew he might end up getting disowned. This? It’s a much bigger field. It’ll involve people who aren’t the pure-bloods he’s grown up among. I couldn’t let him stand alone,” he repeated. His heart was beating in a crazy rhythm in his ears, but keeping his voice steady wasn’t even an effort.

I think that might be true.

“And do you love him?” someone else said. Harry looked to the side and found Pansy had stepped up very close, her eyes bright with anger. She had one hand poised on her hip, her fingers curled around her palm. That wasn’t enough to keep Harry from seeing that she held her wand.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I think so,” he said.

And then Draco’s hands closed hard enough around his waist and shoulders to make Harry wince, and spun him around. Once again, he was being kissed, but this time Harry sensed restrained anger behind the plunge and twist of Draco’s tongue. He leaned back and gave up control of the kiss, letting Draco do as he liked. His attention soon shifted from the people around them to the erection he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide if he pulled away.

When Draco at last lifted his head and Harry was panting to recover his breath, he heard Draco’s hard voice say, “I think that’s quite enough questions about Harry’s honor, bravery, and purpose. He’s outed himself now, and there isn’t a wizard in Britain who won’t hear of this by tomorrow morning. What more do you want from him?”

“Support long ago would have been nice,” said Nusante.

Harry started to turn in Draco’s arms and apologize again, but Draco tightened his grip and held him in place. He was snarling as he responded, though Harry thought he was the only one close enough—other than perhaps Pansy and Blaise—to recognize the extra vibration in Draco’s chest and what it meant. To others, he would sound only as if he had become extremely polite. “Harry’s given you his reasons for why he didn’t do that. We cannot stop you if you blame him, but don’t do it without remembering that he’s just destroyed his only hiding place because he decided that he should do what’s right.”

Nusante muttered something sullen. Harry sensed Draco’s nails digging into his back in response, and he stroked the nape of Draco’s neck reassuringly. Draco sighed out a heavy breath and recovered his self-control.

“Is there anything else that needs to be said?” he demanded, and Harry saw him looking around the room.

Either all the speech-makers had already given their speeches, or they were wise enough to realize that few people would listen to them for glancing at Draco and Harry, Harry thought. He had lost track of time and who was on-stage during his moments as Elizabeth and making his decision. He heard murmurs of agreement, and then people moved towards the front door, sounding as eager as Draco was to end the meeting.

Harry frowned. He wasn’t sure this was the best course. Among other things, Draco had just marked himself as leader of the rebellion, and conflicts with Nusante over that could lie ahead, as well as with those who would resent Draco’s high-handedness.

But Draco held him closer, and once again he was trembling. Harry thought it might be better not to ask more of him than he could give.

Not right away, at any rate. What he can give is obviously much larger than I thought it was.

*

Draco fought to keep his jaws closed. Most of the words he could speak at the moment were far too poisonous for the atmosphere around them. The rebellion was a delicate potion, with a sparking ingredient added in the form of Harry’s sudden revelation. Did he want it to overflow the cauldron or explode? If not, then he needed to keep quiet.

But it was so difficult. His tongue ached with his chewing on it. His mind continually whispered new and more creative insults for the fear in the eyes of those who trooped past them, and others for their resentment as they stared at Harry, and still others for the way some people tried to linger and speak to him, even though the way Draco was holding him should have told them they didn’t have a prayer of doing so right now.

Harry had made a sacrifice that they could have appreciated just as well as they had Draco’s. Draco had risked his public reputation; Harry would risk a bigger one. He had come out first to his parents and the guests at his birthday party, a controlled environment. Harry had revealed his true orientation in front of a group of people without knowing their feelings about Harry Potter. Draco’s contributions to the rebellion would be largely financial still, even if they were open now. Harry had offered to fight.

And what did they do? Turned on him as the wizarding public had turned on him when he was a student, blaming him for not being perfect, blaming him for not having already solved their problems.

Harry’s hands were rubbing soothingly up and down his spine, pausing now and then to dig into his muscles as if in a massage. Draco held his breath for a count of ten, and then nuzzled Harry’s neck. He was the one who should be comforting Harry, not the other way around.

That thought finally helped him recover his temper—that and the knowledge that Blaise and Pansy had not left with the others but were waiting for him with harsh smiles and fury buried deep in their eyes.

Draco glanced up, then turned to face them, drawing Harry around so he stood at Draco’s side. He made sure both Blaise and Pansy saw his arm about Harry’s waist, the hand he lifted to adjust his glasses, the way he leaned his weight on Harry unselfconsciously. He would answer his friends’ questions, but he would not allow them to dictate what he did and said.

“So,” Pansy said, “this is why you were so certain that Brian Montgomery wasn’t part of a revenge plot.”

“I knew his true identity all along, yes,” Draco said simply. That was a lie, but one he could be fairly sure Blaise and Pansy wouldn’t detect, stunned as they were. “And I knew Harry was falling for me. He wouldn’t hurt me. I was far more likely to hurt him. We had some close scrapes.” He touched his lips to Harry’s temple and watched Blaise.

Blaise shook his head. Then he said, “And do you love him in turn, Draco?”

“Why, yes,” Draco said. “I think so.”

The deliberate echo of Harry’s words brought his head around so he was staring into Draco’s eyes. He shivered for a moment, as if he found the force of Draco’s stare a little much, but then he grinned and kissed him on the cheek. Draco crowded closer yet. The churning emotions still filled him, but had moved lower than his belly. He hoped Blaise and Pansy would leave them alone soon.

“Do you realize how much danger you’ve put Draco in, Potter?” Pansy demanded.

Harry turned to face her. He looked troubled, and Draco tensed. If Pansy hurt him, he would insist that she leave so he could talk to Harry. The danger didn’t matter as much as the burst of triumph and anxiety that still filled him when he thought of what Harry had done. Besides, Harry’s danger was greater. Did no one care about that? Where were the people to worry about him as Pansy worried about Draco?

Will his friends understand? Or will they be too angry about his deception and the fact that he’s dating me to accept him?

Draco was beginning to understand why Harry had hidden all these years. Even for the people who didn’t see the hero, or not only the hero, the expectations of him were simply too high. Perhaps it was better that he create the personas, who would at least please him and the clients they served, than drive himself mad trying to be everything to every wizard.

“He will be hunted and targeted, yes,” Harry said in a low voice. “But so will everyone who stood in this room today.”

“Not every one of them is equally important to you,” Blaise said. “What will you do about the people who try to hurt him or take him?”

“Destroy them.”

Harry said it so casually that it was easy to miss the implications of his words at first. His eyes were fixed on Blaise again, though, and now Draco could feel a cool breeze on the side of his neck and moving through his hair where there had been none before. Harry’s mandate for destruction obviously included Blaise if he tried to take Draco.

I wonder if he’s jealous, Draco thought, and clung to the thought as one that lightened the tension he was feeling. Perhaps he thinks Blaise really does want to get into my bed.

“That’s quite a claim,” said Blaise, looking unmoved, though Draco knew the gleam in his eyes of old. “You’re sure you could do it?”

“You’ve felt my magic,” Harry said quietly. “I realize that feeling my love in the same way is impossible for you, but I will try my best.”

“That’s not good enough,” said Pansy.

Harry tossed her a weary glance. “Then I don’t think any reassurance I can give you will be.”

The weary look made Draco put his hand on Harry’s chest and glare at Pansy around the side of his partner’s head. Pansy knew that look of old, too. She shut her mouth, raised her eyebrow, and nodded. She was not satisfied, but she would continue the conversation later.

“Blaise, Pansy, I’ll meet you at my flat in a few hours,” Draco said, and they departed without fuss. Blaise’s eyes did still travel back and forth between Draco and Harry with more than ordinary curiosity, but he followed Pansy.

The moment the door closed behind them, Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders and propelled him gently but firmly backwards until he rested against a wall. Harry stared at him, blinking, as if he hadn’t quite realized that there was no one in the room but them.

“You don’t need to stand by yourself,” Draco whispered. He kissed Harry’s cheek. “Never again.” He kissed him on the mouth, and Harry parted his lips to let his tongue in, moaning softly. Draco felt sharp sparks of magic roll past them, but this time, they seemed to stay under the surface rather than springing up to connect him and Harry. Perhaps they could sense how tired both he and Harry were, that they needed their rest.

“You have me.” Draco unbuttoned the robe Harry wore and slid a hand down his chest. Harry arched, gasping. The sound was barely more than a breath, and Draco felt a surge of need that made him step closer, driving a knee between Harry’s legs. They parted for him easily, and closed around his thigh with a tight grip that thrilled him.

“You’ll always have me,” Draco said, and squeezed Harry’s right nipple, delighting in the way his head rolled back, his throat bared. His eyes were shut, and Draco wished he would open them, but given Harry’s utter surrender in this posture, that was only a minor and selfish wish. What more could Draco ask for than this openness? Harry was yielding himself freely, as he had not done yet; the last time they had made love, he had still been disguised as Brian, and under the impression that Draco didn’t know who he was.

“You don’t need to do anything stupidly heroic just so people will like you,” Draco said, leaning close to whisper the words into Harry’s ear. He let his fingers drift over to Harry’s other nipple, then rolled his arm so his wand fell into his hand. A flick, and Harry’s robes past the waist were sliding down, the cloth tangling itself neatly around his feet. Draco reached out and slid his pants down, too, and then he was grasping Harry’s cock. “You have me, and in any case, I won’t let you do something like that.”

Harry murmured something. If there were words in it, Draco couldn’t understand them. He leaned in and kissed Harry again, sliding his knee back and forth against the underside of Harry’s erection on every second stroke. Harry gasped, his eyes flying open at last, though they were so filled with a shimmering glaze Draco wasn’t sure if Harry saw him.

“I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them hector you into trying to please them. I’ll deflect all their expectations. I’ll stand by your side as no one has ever done, and I’ll expect the same from you.”

Harry opened his eyes further, and concentrated on seeing Draco this time. “I love you,” he said clearly, and reached down towards Draco’s erection.

Draco turned so as to make it impossible for him to reach. He wasn’t going to need any help. Just watching the flush that crept up Harry’s neck, the widening of his eyes, the helpless, restless toss of his head against the wall, was enough.

“And I love you,” Draco whispered. “Neither of us is what we were. You aren’t the Savior of the Wizarding World anymore. You’ll commit yourself to the cause; you already did that. But you won’t be responsible for doing everything alone. If someone tries to tell you you are, laugh in his face.”

Harry smiled and leaned forwards to kiss the wrist of Draco’s free hand. Then he cried out as Draco’s knee hit just the right spot, and jerked his hips. Draco hissed in triumph. God, he loved touching Harry. He’d never had another partner he wanted to bring pleasure to so completely, just as he’d never felt that overwhelming protective instinct that had made him drive both the group in general and then Blaise and Pansy away when their questions and accusations became too much for Harry.

“And I’m not the oblivious boy I was,” Draco said. “I’m not too proud to accept your help. I’m not going to ignore what standing up to everyone, even your friends, costs you. I am right here, Harry.” He rested his free hand on Harry’s cheek this time and leaned in to cover his lips once more.

Harry sighed out his orgasm into Draco’s mouth, panting and whimpering in pleasure. Draco came a few moments later, from the sight of Harry’s face, filled with hope and trust and belief.

Then he wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and they stood together like that for a long time. Draco thought back to Pansy and Blaise’s questions about how Harry would protect him, and snorted inwardly. The moment a threat appeared, he would be filled with protective fury because it might hurt Harry, and that would be the best weapon against being hurt himself.

I wonder if my father ever understood it—how strong a defense love is.

Chapter 33.