Chapter Thirty-Four of 'Changing of the Guard'- Avalanche

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Thirty-Four—Avalanche

“But what made you decide to come out now?” Therris’s fingers were twitching as he leaned forwards, uncurling from the quill as though he wanted to reach out and touch Harry’s hand to prove he was real.

Harry supposed he had more tolerance for someone reacting like that towards him than someone who flinched away from him as if he were covered in disgusting slime. But whatever reaction he received, he would simply have to endure. He kept a small smile on his face and a calm, relaxed tone in his voice. “I chose to come out because I wanted to support Draco. There’s no one more important to me right now.”

“You didn’t plan on a specific date or time?” Therris leaned even closer and sniffed twice. He really did look like a ferret, Harry mused, and then wondered whether Draco would want to hear that comparison even if it was true, and funny. “That seems quite strange, if you really are taking every effort to ensure the wizarding world knows about it now.”

Harry snorted, and let some of his own humor show through. He hoped Therris wouldn’t be able to tell if the laughter was slightly frantic. “I’m working with what’s going to happen anyway,” he said. “If I weren’t Harry Potter, I would still have revealed myself to support Draco. But since I’m who I am, everyone will be interested in reading the story. I’d rather they read my side of the story, not something made up of rumors and half-truths.” He looked straight at Therris and smiled. “The sort of thing some of your colleagues are in the habit of printing, for example.”

Therris nodded without taking offense. Harry permitted one muscle in his back, out of the reporter’s sight, to unclench. Good. He had read the man’s professional jealousy whenever he’d written in his letters about his job correctly, then. Therris was more loyal to his own career than to the Daily Prophet.

Therris tapped his quill thoughtfully against the parchment he had already covered with scribble after scribble containing, Harry hoped, Harry’s words. “And what do you plan to do now? You’ve told me a little about your decision and what you’ve done for the past ten years and your relationship with Mr. Malfoy. But there must be another step, mustn’t there?” He looked at Harry expectantly.

“Yes,” said Harry. His throat was clogged as though he’d tried to swallow a whole carrot for a moment. He coughed and forced his way on. He had known this confession would come when he’d chosen to contact Therris. Somehow, he had not thought it would be so hard. “I plan to fight for the rights of gay and lesbian wizards and witches to live as they will, to hold jobs without prejudice, to associate with each other in the street without incurring disgusted looks, and to act like normal members of the wizarding community.” He smiled for a moment, remembering some of the more eccentric people who had gathered around Nusante in his house not two hours ago, and Elizabeth. “As normal as they want to be, in any case.”

“And you don’t think the Wizengamot and the Ministry will oppose that?” Therris demanded.

“On the contrary.” Harry met and held his eyes. “I expect them to fight me for even the simplest things, those they might grant if I wasn’t going to lean on them so hard. But I don’t want us to be seen as the simple beneficiaries of gifts. We have to fight for and earn our rights if they’re going to be ours. I’ll do that.”

“You aren’t frightened of the forces that the Ministry and the Wizengamot could bring against you?” Therris’s voice had deepened and softened. Harry thought, seeing the gleam in his eyes, that it was only his native interest in a dramatic story, but that was all right with Harry. The more he could build up a public interest in the story, the harder Counterstrike and Lucius Malfoy and his and Draco’s other enemies would find it to hide in the shadows and do them damage from there.

“Of course I am,” said Harry. “Heroes are afraid, but they keep on fighting. And, well, do forgive me for mentioning this, but I don’t fear the Ministry, or even the Wizengamot, as much as I feared Voldemort.”

Therris laughed, a true, open, relaxed sound. He nodded, wrote down Harry’s last words, and then held out a hand. Harry clasped and shook it. “I look forwards to covering the story,” said Therris. “And to finding out how you confront the naysayers. There will be naysayers, of course.” For a moment, his look was very direct.

Harry grinned back at him, unsure of where he was getting the courage from. Surely the thought of Draco alone couldn’t be enough. Maybe he had invented another persona without noticing and called it forwards, or maybe he was playing the merciless voice again, which was braver than he was.

That is you.

Harry batted the thought away. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, thank you.

“A great many of them,” Harry said calmly. “Probably more than we’ll have supporters. But I fought for seven years to rid the world of Voldemort. I’ll fight for three or four times that to support this movement, and longer if I must.”

Therris ducked his head. For a moment, he had looked genuinely moved. Harry suspected he was trying to hide it. “The world will go mad,” he murmured.

“Good,” Harry said. “It’s been too long since they’ve had something more substantial than Celestina Warbeck’s latest love affair to talk about.”

Therris turned and stepped into the fire without another word. He wasn’t a courteous man, Harry thought, but, in his own odd way, he could be trusted. He wanted to spread the story and do it well, and that would mean ensuring he was as polite and true to Harry’s words as possible, so Harry would trust him enough to grant another interview.

Kreacher stepped into the room then with an owl perched on his arm and a letter in his hand, looking disapproving. “Owl is being fixed here and will not go away without a reply from Master Harry,” he grumbled, and pushed the envelope into Harry’s hands. At least it wasn’t red and smoking, Harry noted before he ripped it open.

He had expected Ron and Hermione to write first, but this was from Nusante—probably only reasonable, since he would have got over the first shock of Harry’s public revelation and moved on to dealing with the consequences. The paper was ripped in some places with the force of his underlining.

Do you know how much it hurts, to know that one of the heroes I’ve looked up to since I was a child shares something with me—and hid it? That’s one reason I’m so bitter. It’s very, very personal. You were always an example of courage to me. And now I learn that you’re not really that brave after all, or you would have done something about the unjust treatment we suffer years ago. Or did you figure that it didn’t really matter as long as no one managed to find out who you were?

I don’t like liars, and I don’t like people who deny what they are. All those politicians who try to persecute us at the same time that they’re getting blowjobs from men and telling themselves it “doesn’t count”—are you proud to have something in common with them? Did you just turn your head away whenever there was a tale of someone being discovered and having to flee the country? Did you care at all about the people who had to use some sort of trick to cover their tracks instead of feeling able to tell their families the truth? Have you heard of Metamorphosis? I always despised the man who owns it, whoever he is, because he was adding in the spread of lies, but at least he’s done more to help and aid the people like you and me than you have.

Harry felt his lips twitch spasmodically, and he took a moment to picture Nusante’s face if he ever heard who actually ran Metamorphosis. Then he focused back on the letter, choosing to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking.

There’s nothing you can do to make this up to me, except fighting from now on. You have to. There’s an enormous debt owed us from the ten years when you did nothing. If you have a lot, you should give a lot. You have fame like no one else in our world, strength, courage, and powerful magic. If you go back into hiding, I’ll never forgive you, and I’ll do everything I can to root you out.

“No fear of that,” Harry breathed, but he doubted Nusante would believe him until he saw the interview, and probably not even then, not until Harry had stood between some curse-wielding Auror and a helpless witch or wizard.

Consider this restitution, if you like, the best kind you can make. No, the only kind you can make. I know other people who will never forgive you if you back away now.

Raymond Nusante.

“And Draco is one of those people,” Harry murmured, and folded the letter, and sat with his head bowed for a moment, composing many replies in his head and discarding them all. Nusante wouldn’t accept apologies at the moment, he thought; in fact, any letter that tried to explain or excuse Harry’s actions was likely to anger him.

And why should I try? An unfamiliar surge of refusal overcame him, to the point where his teeth stung as if he had suddenly taken a huge gulp of a lemon fizzy drink. He isn’t the one who’s owed those words. And he’s already said that the thing he really wants is to see me fighting, not explaining.

So in the end Harry took up one of those pieces of parchment he kept for his best official correspondence—some was still required even with the weak Harry in hiding, notably concerning the Charity—and wrote back to Nusante. He watched the owl take flight feeling something like peace.

The letter said simply, I will fight.

*

Draco came out of the Apparition with a small jolt and then looked around sharply. No matter that he had been invited here and chosen to accept the invitation, he still didn’t entirely trust the person mentioned in his letter, and wouldn’t until he saw Harry.

Luckily, Harry waved at him from a far corner of the garden he’d landed in. Draco raised a hand in reply and trotted towards him, turning his head from side to side to get a good glimpse of his surroundings. They were tangled and overgrown, flowers and thorns and vines and trees and bushes run wild. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was in an abandoned Muggle place or a wizarding estate barred from house-elves. He only knew that he couldn’t see a house no matter where he looked, and that one clear path led from the Apparition point towards the small square of stone in which Harry stood with Caroline Garrett at his side.

Garrett extended a hand when Draco was still some distance from her, making him walk faster than he really wanted to so he could clasp it. He bent over and kissed her wrist, which made her smile. She looked larger than he remembered from the Ministry, as if without the confinement of walls and roof she could expand in all directions. She wore a yellow robe at the moment, which looked less awful on her than it should have.

“Welcome, Master Malfoy. I’m glad you remembered my offer of help.” She turned and faced Harry, and thought her face remained mostly calm, Draco could see twitches of excitement running around her eyes and lips, which kept pulling into a wider smile. “And now that we’re both here, Mr. Potter, wherever here is, I assume you’ll tell us about your plan?”

Draco looked at Harry in surprise as he stepped past Garrett to put an arm around Harry’s waist and kiss his cheek. He had assumed Harry had contacted Garrett, but that the meeting place and the plan were hers. Harry should only try to do so much, after all. He still wasn’t used to acting on his own yet.

But Harry gave Draco a perfectly steady smile and then faced Garrett. “Yes,” he said. “I did intend to invite one more person, but he refused to accept.” He bit the inside of his cheek in a gesture Draco hadn’t seen before. Was it Harry’s? he wondered, gazing at him with a rapt interest he didn’t bother to disguise in front of this ally who knew they were gay and had chosen to meet with them still. “He’ll need some time to get over suddenly having his leadership taken from him.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Nusante, you mean? Don’t worry about him, Harry. He’ll either come around or stay out of the group and let us lead. What can he really do about it, given who you are and who I am?”

Harry shook his head slightly. “There are some of his very close friends in our group, and they might prefer to follow him. I simply don’t want to divide our strength, when we’re still vulnerable to pressure and force from the outside.” He turned to look at Garrett. “As for this location, it was part of an old estate I purchased from a man who moved out of the country several years ago. I had no use for most of the property, and I haven’t kept it properly tended. But this suits me.” He made a wide circle with his arm at the countryside. “It offers good hiding places, for one thing, in case someone ever chooses to come after us.”

Draco drew back enough to give Harry a long look. He hadn’t known that Harry had secret sanctuaries as well as secret identities. Given those, he really could have vanished if he wanted after exposing himself as gay in front of the entire wizarding world, and Draco would not have known how to find him even if he was dosed with Veritaserum.

I need to know more about him. At the moment, we’re still too unequal. I might be more emotionally stable, but Harry has his magic and his secrets to hide him, surround him, protect him. He could fight off an army—but I’m not part of the army, and I want him to realize that.

Harry shifted uncomfortably against him. Draco realized after a moment that his fingers had closed hard on Harry’s arm, and he softened their grip as much as he could given the revelation that had just struck him and made soft petting motions. Harry relaxed, briefly kissed his neck, and then addressed Garrett. “You were telling me that you had studied matters of, ah, unconventional sexuality. Would any of your publications and research give you the power to act as a voice for us?”

Draco stiffened. He couldn’t help it. Garrett was straight as far as he knew, and he thought it should be people actually affected by the rebellion who took the roles of leading it and speaking for it.

Garrett, though, only smiled. “They make some people more likely to listen to me,” she agreed. “The Aurors have often brought me in as an extra voice on those cases that contain some bizarre amalgamation of murder and rape, and I’ve worked with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on bestiality.”

“Being homosexual is comparable to neither,” Draco hissed. He might have to accept Garrett’s help, but hearing the way she approached the subject made him more and more certain he couldn’t accept her attitude.

“I was not saying it was.” Garrett had lost her smile at last, and she spoke with a weight of seriousness in her words that made Draco reluctantly compelled to listen. “I’ve made a name, but you should know what kind of name it is. When people hear me speak, they expect me to give them quick, easily understandable bits of information. They want to know why someone rapes, or why someone has sex with an animal—or why someone has sex with a man when he’s a man himself.” She straightened her shoulders and looked sideways at Harry. “And though I don’t consider them linked, you should know that many people in our society do.”

Harry simply nodded. Draco stared at him for a moment. Where had this calm, confident man come from, the one who wouldn’t let any revelation put him off his determination to do battle? Draco didn’t know, but he did hope that this persona, or way of dealing with the world, was one Harry would keep for a while.

I wouldn’t mind taking him to bed at all when he was in this mood.

“Then you still might be able to help us,” Harry was saying. “Prepare the small bits of information about homosexuality for people who will listen. I’ve studied Muggle tactics, Muggle history. This is an area where they’re far in front of us, unfortunately.” His face grew somber for a moment, and Draco experienced another tug of curiosity in his belly, wondering whether Harry had ever considered fleeing to the Muggle world and simply remaining there. “Tell them that it isn’t always about simply having sex, that you can’t deny your sexuality like a bad dream, that many people have had experiences with their own sex and yet somehow managed to survive unscathed.” Harry paused for a moment, as if considering something, and added, “You might remind them Dumbledore was gay. It was known at one point among some of the wizards I associated with, but most people seem to have forgotten it. And that makes two of their precious war heroes outcast in the same fashion.” His voice altered, becoming light and cynical at once. “It does seem to be one of the hazards of the profession.”

“You’re more than that,” Draco whispered impulsively into Harry’s ear. “More than what you did during the war, more than what you did to defeat Voldemort.”

Harry smiled, and tiled back his head so it briefly rested on Draco’s shoulder. “Even that would have been impossible without you,” he said, and stole a kiss.

Garrett waited patiently until they were finished, then nodded. “But you did mention something more definite in your letter, Mr. Potter,” she said. “What was that?”

His letter hadn’t mentioned anything specific. Of course, Draco thought, watching as Harry bowed his head and closed his eyes, bracing his feet as if against some heavy push, perhaps Harry knew that Garrett would require that hint to come at all, whilst Draco was much more likely to trust the plan from the beginning.

“We’ve been hiding too long,” Harry said quietly. “We’ve even hidden the meetings of the core group, as if we didn’t have a perfect right to gather and talk about matters important to us if we like.” He looked up, and Draco wasn’t sure he liked the fire that had entered his eyes. “I want a public gathering. A party, and a festival. Somewhere you can present your speeches, Madam Garrett. Somewhere that anyone who attends it would know he or she stands in ‘danger’ of encountering homosexuals. Somewhere that would remain absolutely safe, because I would make sure it was, along with other people.” His eyes blazed, and his voice carried such conviction that Draco thought it might be enough to make Garrett ignore the sheer insanity of what he was saying.

There was no way Draco could ignore it, though.

“Are you mad?” he demanded.

*

Harry turned to face Draco. He had thought he might have a problem from the moment when Draco’s hand had tightened on his. He seemed unnerved by the idea that Harry had a plan of his own at all, never mind the fact that the plan was so daring and public.

But then Harry shook his head inwardly and told himself that was ridiculous. He was simply on edge. Dozens of Howlers had come yesterday, and though they couldn’t cross the wards, he could hear the owls colliding with the spells and occasionally smell singed feathers or hear the edge of a yelling voice through an open window. There was no answer yet from Ron or Hermione. The interview with Therris had been printed on the front page of the Prophet this morning and looked less impressive than he remembered it. He had received a heavy, careful letter from Kingsley begging him to reconsider coming out, to announce that this was a deep practical joke, perhaps arranged with George Weasley. The letter had hastened to assure Harry that Kingsley had no moral objections to Harry’s orientation. But he would have to have legal ones if Harry kept on as he had been.

Draco didn’t deserve to have that anger taken out on him. Harry would just have to master it and keep it under control, and he could use the techniques he had used to create his personas to do that, even if he could no longer retreat under a persona when Draco was near him.

“It’s dangerous, I know,” Harry said quietly. “That’s why we’ll publicize it as having the possibility of physical injury, and we’ll have an Age Line to ensure that no children or teenagers can enter—“

“That won’t be enough,” Draco said darkly. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “And if anyone does accept that, there will still be people who claim we’re endangering and corrupting their children.” He shook his head violently. “Pure-blood sons and daughters don’t stop being children to their parents just because they’re of age, Harry. I ought to know.”

“We can’t prevent the stupider things people think of us,” Harry pointed out. A hot prickle ran up and down his spine. But this was an argument he needed to have with Draco. He wanted to force a confrontation, instead of allowing Counterstrike and the Ministry to do everything. He was tired of simply reacting.

And he needed the assurance that he could disagree with Draco about something not related to sex or his personas and have Draco not immediately abandon him. Harry had spent the last ten years resisting the temptation to confrontation. His personas could do it well enough, because their goals and cares were usually different from his, and most of the time he’d built the courage for the exercise into them. But he’d bent to the needs of his friends and family and even the needs of the public in some ways.

His relationship with Draco had to be different. Everything had to be different from this moment forwards. Draco could help forge that path, but Harry needed a partner, not a guide.

Draco stared into his eyes for long moments. Then he made an explosive sound and stepped closer to Harry. Harry felt himself half-relax. It was yelling and hurtful words he feared, more than physical confrontation. He could heal from bruises; he was many times magically stronger than Draco. Words would echo in his mind for decades and make him regret or suffer as wounds never could.

“Harry,” Draco said softly, “you’re forcing it into people’s faces now, not simply taking it public.”

“That’s the kind of language they’ve used,” Harry said flatly. “And I won’t demand that any gay wizard or witch who’s about in London come to us then. They’ll have the choice. I’ll take measures to protect everyone, just as I did at the Theater-in-the-Round.”

“We won’t have much attendance with the danger so high,” Draco muttered.

“I think you’ll be surprised.”

Draco stared at him for a moment longer, and then shook his head. “What happens if Aurors do show up?” he asked.

“I face them,” Harry said.

“No.”

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to argue—what was Draco going to suggest, that Nusante do it?—but Draco seized his hand and held it against his chest. “We face them,” he said. “Your plan is mad, but I do admire it, in some ways.” His breath was quickening, and he licked his lips before briefly leaning in to kiss Harry. “I assume you’ll have some press coverage, to make the Aurors look as bad as possible.”

Harry smiled. He was giddy and knew it, and he was aware, in the part of Harry Potter that was always alert, of Caroline Garrett watching them with a wide grin. He didn’t care. Draco was with him.

“Yes,” he said. “And I intend to show us in as good a light as possible. We’ll defend ourselves, but without injuring them. This’ll be an ambush, but not a physically violent one.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’d like to see you manage that.”

“We’ll manage it,” said Harry, and turned to face Garrett. “I’ve chosen a place to host this party, and the owner will accept the damages.” The owner was, in fact, him, but he didn’t see why anyone needed to know that right now. “Can you have a speech ready in three days?”

“I can,” said Garrett. “If you are sure this is wise. If you are sure you wish to punch wizarding society on its collective jaw.”

Harry smiled, and ignored the cold sweat breaking out on the nape of his neck and the trembling in his limbs. He had Draco’s touch on the small of his back to counteract them.

“We’re going to show them,” he said, “that they can’t ignore us, and they can’t silence us, and they can’t make us go back into hiding.”

Draco’s hand twitched, hard, his nails scraping along Harry’s flesh in a short flash of pain that Harry reveled in. It helped anchor him in this body, in this moment, behind these eyes.

We really are going to do this.

We will fight.

Chapter 35.

Comments

[envious-ema.livejournal.com]

i can see where Nusante was coming from in his letter, and why he he had such a strong reaction towards Harry!
and wow they are soo brave they r going to fight!! i am very very very apprehensive about this! *biting nails*
p.s. this might be a really stupid Q but is this the "real" Harry thats going to fight or is it one of his more daring persona?

[lomonaaeren.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

As for your question, I don't think it's stupid. I don't believe Harry himself knows the answer at this point.