HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 9: Skirfare Bridge Barn [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 9, "Skirfare Bridge Barn" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: general Summary: In Yorkshire, Harry talks with Draco about family expectations, liking boys, and whether Voldemort can find Draco through the Dark Mark.
Harry was finding it difficult to stick to his resolve, although he kept reminding himself to do so. He was traveling with Draco not so that they could lie around snogging, but to save Draco's life. If it were not in danger he would not have listened to Draco to begin with. And how would he feel if Ginny carried on like this with someone else? He had only broken up with Ginny to keep her safe, as best he could: didn't he owe her a certain amount of respect in the circumstances? But Draco was here, touching him, urging him on, and it was impossible to resist altogether. Harry buried his lips in Draco's neck, sucking, biting at the skin in the hollow of Draco's throat. He wanted nothing more at this moment than to rub against Draco until they both came, but he forced himself to stop, to go back to his own bed, to ignore the way the blood pounded through his veins, all his senses shrieking at him to finish what he had started.
He could hear Draco's ragged breathing from across the room. The knowledge that Draco must be equally frustrated made it a little easier for Harry to bear. He knew he had made the right choice, for tonight, even if it was not what one part of him wanted.
The next morning he put on the most closed expression he could manage to discourage Draco from trying to talk about it – difficult when he kept seeing the bruise on Draco's neck and having flashes of memory about putting it there. Draco seemed to recognize Harry's reluctance, or at any rate he kept quiet until they had Apparated north.
Conjuring his Patronus as a demonstration for Draco a while later, Harry wondered why the Slytherin had such trouble with this charm when he had managed the Protean Charm relatively easily. Draco's talk about the shapes Patronuses took made Harry suspect that Draco was worried about having one whose appearance was insufficiently impressive for his taste. Well, that was something Harry could not help him with. The form a Patronus took was uncontrollable, as far as he knew. All he could do was to urge Draco to keep trying.
After a few failed attempts, Harry gave Draco a piece of chocolate, a trick he had picked up from Professor Lupin, and suggested that choosing a different memory might help.
This time, at last, from Draco's wand came not an amorphous silver mist, but an enormous... Harry blinked at it. A badger? He would have guessed Draco's Patronus would be a great cat, if not a snake or a dragon. He was even more startled when the badger moved toward him and bowed its head. What could Draco be thinking to make it do that? He had never seen anyone's Patronus behave so when the DA had practiced the charm.
Draco was flushed and grinning with his success, looking less irritatingly superior and more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him, the night before included. He had an instant's impulse to pull Draco over and kiss him, but suppressed it, instead saying simply, "Well done, Draco; I think you really have it now."
With that piece of magic successfully managed, they spent the remainder of the day working on some of the hexes, jinxes, and counterspells that they had not already practiced. It was not until they were walking towards the Skirfare Bridge Barn at the end of the afternoon that things became uncomfortable again.
Harry would not have suspected Draco to be the sort who wanted to talk about his feelings all the time, but it was Draco who began by telling Harry that even though he might have been half-drunk, that had not been the reason he had wanted to kiss Harry.
Stopping short, because he did not want to come upon any strangers while having this conversation, Harry told Draco that he had enjoyed what they had done, sure, but... he shook his head. "This is just too weird, Draco. I've spent six years loathing you, and it seemed to be mutual. It's awfully hard to change all my ideas this fast. Besides, you didn't show that you liked me until after you needed my help. So what's really going on?"
It was a minute before Draco answered, but he met Harry's eyes as he spoke and there was no shadow of falsehood on his face.
"If you're saying that I'm saying that I like you just to be flattering, you're wrong. I admit that I might do that, but I'm not. I can't prove it, though."
That was true, and Harry felt bad for making the accusation when he had no definite reason to suspect Draco of pretending. But it did still seem odd to him, such a complete turnaround in Draco's behavior. A month as a fugitive could not have provoked that, could it?
Draco was continuing to speak. "I've always preferred boys, and Merlin, Harry, haven't you ever looked in a mirror? But it's not just that you're a good-looking bloke, either. When I'm around you, I feel like everything's going to be all right. I'm not so worried now, and it's because I'm with you."
The words echoed in Harry's ears. "I am not worried, Harry. I am with you." That was what Professor Dumbledore had said the last night of his life. It shook Harry to hear the same sentiment from Draco Malfoy's lips. He was not sure he was strong enough to bear the weight of such trust; he had not been able to save the Headmaster, after all. What made him think he could help Draco? Of more immediate concern, how was he going to deal with Draco's feelings for him, and his own as well, until they – or more likely Hermione – found some solution for keeping Draco safe? This was only going to make a difficult situation more complicated still.
"Look, I don't disbelieve you, and I am flattered. Just... don't expect too much from me, all right? This isn't quite what I had intended to be doing this summer," Harry finally said.
"What were you planning to do? I remember you mentioning something about that before," said Draco curiously.
"Er... I don't think I want to tell you about that right now," said Harry, his eyes straying to Draco's left arm. "I'll think about it, though, because it won't wait forever, and if we keep traveling together, you'll have to know eventually. Not that I think you'd talk on purpose, but if you should be caught and taken to Voldemort... well, it would be safer for you not to know anything." Which was both vague and condescending, he knew, but true. Voldemort would probably not move his Horcruxes, Harry guessed, not if they were all as well guarded as the one taken by the mysterious R.A.B., but that did not mean any of them would be easy to find. The longer he waited the stronger Voldemort and his supporters would become. Losing Draco Malfoy would be nothing to Voldemort; he had plenty of others at his call.
"So it's something to do with working against him," Draco guessed. "All right. I wouldn't trust me that much either, if I were you. I am still technically a Death Eater." He looked disappointed, however.
"As for... anything between you and me," Harry went on, "in the meantime until we find some way to protect you, I... can't promise anything, you have to understand that. You say you've always preferred boys, but I haven't. I like girls just fine. And what about Pansy Parkinson, anyhow?" Harry added sharply. "You took her to the Yule Ball in fourth year, and you didn't seem at all bothered when she was hanging onto you on the Hogwarts Express last autumn."
Draco looked uncomfortable. "I had to take someone to the ball, didn't I, or look like a complete wanker, and there'd have been all kinds of trouble if it wasn't a girl. My family has very definite expectations for my future, and marrying a pure-blood girl and ensuring that the Malfoy line continues is high up on the list of what-Draco-must-do. Pansy's a Slytherin too, she may have some exaggerated ideas right now about my feelings for her, but she won't be too surprised or make a fuss if my parents make another match for me."
"An arranged marriage?" Harry said incredulously. "I know your family is obsessed with blood purity, but an arranged marriage? I don't believe it."
"Believe it. There are worse things... you don't want to know. And one positive angle, the girl – whoever it ends up being – will be in the same situation and not likely to mind much if, after a sprog or two, I suggest we can discreetly go our own ways," said Draco.
Harry could hardly credit what Draco was saying, but the other boy seemed quite serious. "That's just... too strange. It's like something Professor Binns might tell us about wizards in the thirteenth century. But you seem to have it all worked out."
"That's what would have happened, anyway," Draco said. "Now – who knows? I'm on the run for my life, my father is in Azkaban – whatever happens, whether You-Know-Who comes out on top or not, what pure-blood family is going to want to marry a daughter to me? And if it's my decision, I doubt I'll marry at all."
"You doubt? But if you only like boys..."
"Doesn't mean I don't feel that it would be a shame to let the family end with me. There aren't any others in the direct line, with the Malfoy name. All my life I've heard about how long we've been a wizarding family, not even a Squib to shame us, how we've been in England since one of my ancestors came over from Normandy nine centuries ago, how important it is to keep the wizarding lines strong. There's a tapestry in my father's study that shows the whole family tree, dozens of generations," said Draco. "Mother's family had a similar one, she's told me, but I've never seen it, or not to remember."
Harry nearly said, "I have," but caution held his tongue. If he told Draco that, he would have to explain how and where he had seen the Black family tree. The Order of the Phoenix might still need to use the house at number twelve Grimmauld Place in the future; Harry did not have the right to break that confidence. Something about the old Black house teased at his memory, but he could not think what. Oh, well, perhaps it would come to him. Or maybe he could talk with Ron and Hermione about it when he saw them tomorrow.
"Sounds impressive," he said offhandedly, beginning to walk again. "I'm getting hungry, aren't you? Let's leave our gear and go find that pub that's supposed to be nearby."
Tonight's place was even more bare-bones than last night's, but after all it was quite remote. Harry considered that they were lucky to have been able to get the room. Most of the converted barn was occupied by a large group of American college students who ignored Harry and Draco, perhaps because the two wizards were several years younger than themselves. That suited Harry fine. After spreading out their sleeping bags on the cots, he and Draco headed down to the pub, only a ten-minute walk away.
It was not very busy when they arrived and they were able to order and eat quickly. Without talking about it, neither of them chose to have anything alcoholic to drink tonight: Harry had a coke and Draco opted for lemonade. After a while, though, more people began to drift in. Apparently this was a regular quiz night, popular with the locals.
"Shall we leave?" Draco suggested, eyeing the growing crowd.
Harry shook his head. "There's nothing much to do around here at night, I'm sure. Let's stay for a while and listen."
Despite having spent far more of his life at the Dursleys' than he would have liked, Harry found most of the Muggle quiz questions and answers unfamiliar, and Draco, clearly, was completely at sea. Harry thought that Mr. Weasley would have been equally lost but enjoyed it far more. He took pity on Draco after half an hour of seeing him become increasingly bored, and leaned over to say, "All right, perhaps not such a good idea after all. Let's go."
It was not yet nine o'clock, but Harry had been correct in saying there was little else to do. About half of the Americans had been in the pub. The rest were hanging about in the barn's common room, where several had a card game going, and one young man with blue-streaked hair was playing a kazoo, much to the noisy amusement of his friends. Harry was again grateful to Hermione for having managed to get a room that he and Draco would not have to share. Tonight's held three persons, actually, but there was no one occupying the third cot. He did not feel up to coping with foreign Muggles at the moment, and Draco, at any rate, was a known quantity.
"Can I look at your arm?" Harry asked when they had gone into the room and shut the door. They had discussed the Dark Mark Draco bore very little, for all that it was the cause of Draco's present danger, and Harry thought that perhaps they ought to, before meeting Ron and Hermione tomorrow.
Draco was wearing one of the long-sleeved shirts Mr. Granger had lent him. He started to roll the left sleeve up, then shrugged and took the shirt off altogether. Harry refrained from remarking on that decision. The snake-tongued skull of the Dark Mark leered in red lines at him from just below Draco's elbow.
"Has Voldemort summoned you through it, since the night Professor Dumbledore died?"
"How do you know about that use of the Mark?" Draco sounded startled.
"Does it matter?" Harry replied. "I know he can. Has he?"
"Yes," said Draco. "More than once." He shivered, touching his fingers to the Mark. "It's... not pleasant."
"I imagine not," said Harry grimly, thinking of the searing pain his own scar had so often given him. "Now, you say that Voldemort – " he saw Draco wince at his repeated use of the name, and amended, "that You-Know-Who can locate you through the Mark if you stay in one place for too long?"
"That's what Professor Snape said when he warned me to keep moving," Draco said. "I hadn't known it before."
Harry looked closely at the Mark without touching it. "I wonder how."
"No idea. But I don't think he would have lied about it. Why would he?"
"He's not exactly trustworthy, is he? Professor Dumbledore," Harry's throat was tight, and he cleared it before continuing, "Dumbledore believed Snape had left You-Know-Who's service, and look what happened."
Draco spread his hands. "I know. I know. You don't have to remind me about that night. Look, I know you hate Professor Snape, and I'm not trying to say what he did wasn't terrible, but I don't see why he would tell me I could be found through the Mark if it weren't true."
"Did he tell you anything else about it? Anything at all, something you could do besides keep running?" Harry was thinking out loud, pacing in the small space of floor between the cots. "If we could figure out how Vol... sorry, how You-Know-Who might be using it to find you – maybe Hermione will have some ideas – there might be a way to misrepresent your location, or conceal it somehow. I wish I knew what Dumbledore had in mind." He really wished that Dumbledore had not died, that he had not made himself responsible for Draco now, even if he had chosen to do so for Dumbledore's sake.
"But we won't solve it tonight, that's certain. I hoped looking at the Mark would give me an idea, but it hasn't. We'll have to hope Hermione and Ron will have learned something useful by tomorrow."
"Yeah, I don't fancy spending an unlimited amount of time on the run, you know, not even in the enchanting company of the famous Harry Potter," said Draco in an exaggerated drawl.
Harry looked quickly over and saw that Draco was grinning.
"Enchanting, is that it? Never thought I'd hear Draco Malfoy use a word like that about me," Harry said lightly. "Blood-traitorous, more like."
The smile faded from Draco's face. "I'm sorry, Harry, I know I've already said so, but... things got rather out of hand between us, didn't they? I mean at Hogwarts."
"You could say that," agreed Harry. "From the beginning. To tell the truth, I thought you were a smarmy conceited git the first time I saw you in Madam Malkin's. No offense."
"Oh, none taken," was the reply, although Draco did not appear pleased. "I didn't know who you were then, of course. And when I did realize, on the Hogwarts Express, and you were already hanging about with Weasley... well, I got angry. Stupid of me. My father had told me that it would be a good idea to get to be friends with Harry Potter if he came to Hogwarts, you know? Prudent and all that. More than half of me decided you were full of yourself because you were the Boy Who Lived. And when you were Sorted into Gryffindor, that rather settled matters. But there was a bit of me that wished things were different." Draco's laugh was wry. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't this interesting to talk to. Loyal, not clever. You and your friends were both... Longbottom excepted. Sorry. Anyhow, that's why I watched you... more than you ever knew. Even if I was a bastard in how I acted."
"I wasn't any better," said Harry. "Every time you did something – like trying to get me caught out of the dormitory in the middle of the night, remember that stupid agreement to duel in first year? – I'd hate you a little more. I wasn't much good at getting you back, though, you had the best of it there."
"You might say that I won more of the battles, but I think I lost the war," Draco said. "Harry?"
"Yeah?" said Harry warily.
"I'm not trying to seduce you or anything," Draco said, and stopped. Then he laughed. "Okay, I am, so never mind the disclaimer. You said you'd never been keen on boys. So why'd you kiss me? The night I found you, and again last night." He ran a hand through his fair hair, pushing it back so that the skull earring Hermione had given him glittered silver in the light.
"Oh. Er." Harry blushed, much to his chagrin. "Would you settle for 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'?"
"Only if you don't leave it at that. I can't believe I was the first bloke you ever snogged, you wouldn't have if I was. So what made it seem such a good idea?" said Draco curiously.
"The first night... you were going right on, weren't you? I thought it might calm you down a bit," said Harry, "and it did."
"And last night? Don't give me any rubbish about being half-pissed, either, that's not enough to explain it. If that were all you wouldn't have cared about how much we did."
Harry was not keen on examining his motives so closely but he seemed unable to get out of the conversation. "You're not so bad-looking yourself, you know," he said, which was nowhere near the whole truth but was no lie, either.
Draco raised his eyebrows.
"Plus, you'd kissed rather well the first time," said Harry. Again, true, if not all the truth. "I wanted to see if I remembered that right."
"Did you?"
"Yeah."
"Need another demonstration?"
"No," said Harry. "I don't need one." On the other hand, Draco had been sitting there shirtless for the past half-hour or more, and Harry had been wondering how that pale skin would feel. So before more than a flicker of disappointment had crossed Draco's face, Harry continued, "But I'd like one."
"So my far-too-obvious scheming has had an effect?" said Draco.
"It still has to be my rules, or I won't play," Harry warned him. "I'm not up for being your boyfriend, or anything like that."
Draco said, "Did I ask you to be?"
"As long as that's straight between us."
"Harry, whatever happens between us, I don't think 'straight' is how we've ever played."