Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 11: To Bath [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 11, "To Bath"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: They meet up with Ron and Hermione in Bath and discuss the Dark Mark and whether Snape would have lied about its use as a homing device for Voldemort.
It was too easy to tease Draco for Harry to resist. When Draco promised that he would do anything Harry wanted tonight, Harry replied, "And if I say I want to go to bed?" He meant to go to sleep, but the words were hardly out of his mouth when he realized that Draco would assume he meant he wanted to shag.
Harry corrected that misimpression quickly, but Draco's willingness to accept that Harry preferred to sleep even though it was clearly not what Draco hoped for made Harry leave off the teasing and instead lean over to whisper in Draco's ear, "That's not really what I want."
What he wanted – what he really wanted – was Ginny. But that, of course, was impossible. Second best might, just might, be Draco, Harry decided. Discovering he was the object of someone's long-term desire gave him a warm if not altogether comfortable feeling. Of course, this was Draco Malfoy, and Harry still did not trust him entirely. But on the other hand, this was Draco, and since Harry had broken up with Ginny because he could not bear to put her at risk if their relationship became known to Voldemort – well, that would not be an issue with Draco, would it? Draco was already in as much danger as he could be.
Nevertheless he had no intention of becoming seriously involved with Draco, not yet. He had seen what happened to Ron. A few face-swallowing kisses with Lavender and Ron had found himself unable to get out of a relationship that had been as much annoying as satisfying. Draco might not make that kind of assumption – Harry was unsure how two blokes handled becoming boyfriends, it might be different – but what if he did? Best to do nothing, perhaps, but with Draco sitting there half-naked... temptation beckoned.
So Harry explained, to himself as much as Draco, "I want more than I'm going to do. Chalk it up to Gryffindor honor or something."
Draco's expression was insulted. "Is it because I'm me, or because I'm a Slytherin, or because I'm a bloke?"
"A bit of each," Harry admitted. "I've kissed a bloke before, but it wasn't... it was just experimenting, practicing. Haven't you ever kissed a girl, even though you weren't really interested?"
As he suspected, Draco had, even if he made faces at the memory. Draco protested, "You're saying that kissing another boy bothers you, but you want to do more than that with me, maybe, and yet you're not going to? I don't understand you at all, Harry."
It was not worth the effort to correct Draco's misunderstanding. Harry's experience with Ron had not put him off the idea of boys, but neither of them had been serious about it either. Kissing another boy did not necessarily bother Harry. It was a question of circumstances. "No, I don't suppose you do understand, Draco," Harry said. "Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it matters," Draco said, and reached over to take off Harry's glasses.
Harry let him do it, too surprised to stop him, then took the glasses and leaned down to put them safely under the cot. He was skeptical of Draco's words. He could accept that Draco fancied him, and he had concluded that Draco was rather less of a bastard than he had thought, but this reply made it sound as if Draco wanted not just help from Harry, not just casual sex, but an actual friendship. That was an utterly strange idea, and it made Harry warier and more reluctant to go very far, not until he had sussed out Draco more thoroughly.
He made his rules clear. "Nothing below the waist, and no more clothes off." He could manage that, he thought – fun, but not too serious.
Draco had – deliberately, Harry suspected – let his hands remain on Harry's thighs after helping Harry back up from setting down his glasses. He tacitly agreed to the first condition by raising them, but bargained, "No, you have to take your shirt off if mine is."
True Slytherin. Not willing to concede without trying to shift the balance of power. Harry thought that Draco might have done better to let Harry keep his shirt on, actually, but perhaps lust was outweighing other considerations for Draco at the moment, just as it was for Harry. He said, "Thought you'd say that. All right, fair's fair." He peeled off his own shirt, once Dudley's and far too large, and balled it up to throw across the room. "Satisfied?"
"Evidently I'm not going to be," Draco said, and Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. Draco would probably take it the wrong way.
"We'll want to be quiet," Harry warned, glancing at the door, and then at last he did what he had wanted since Draco had oh-so-casually taken his own shirt off, he ran his hands along that cool pale skin and pressed Draco down onto the bed.
Harry had not considered what Draco might do once he was within reach, and so the sudden feel of Draco's teeth and lips and tongue against his neck made him gasp, his fingers instinctively pinching in reaction. Draco did not object to the rough treatment of his nipples, though, only reaching around to pull Harry closer and kiss him on the mouth instead for a while.
He might not tell Draco so, but honesty made Harry admit to himself that Draco was better at snogging than Ginny, even. The way that he used his tongue... Harry groaned in his throat and ran his hands up Draco's back and into that fine fair hair. If he had not been so insistent about setting rules, he would have been grinding his hips against Draco, because every movement of Draco's tongue brought an answering twitch in Harry's cock, and it was taking all his effort to keep from coming in his jeans.
When Draco began leaving wet kisses along Harry's neck and down his chest, Harry was ready to let him go further if he tried. But Draco had just reached Harry's right nipple when he abruptly pulled away.
"Fuck!"
"Draco?" Harry's first thought was that Draco had had some kind of seizure: he had gone rigid and almost fallen off the narrow cot. Then he saw that Draco was clutching at the Dark Mark on his arm. "Is it Voldemort?" He pried Draco's hand away. "Yeah, the Mark's turned black. He's summoning the Death Eaters, isn't he? How long does it last?"
Eyes that had been dilated with lust moments before were now wide in agony as Draco croaked, "A few minutes, usually."
There was nothing Harry could do except hold onto the other boy as Draco quivered, and discreetly ignore the tears that wet his cheeks. It must be even worse than the pain he used to feel from his own scar, Harry decided. Finally Draco's body began to relax against Harry.
"Great timing, huh? My apologies," Draco said, his cracking voice belying the light tone he attempted.
Harry admired the effort to act normally; he doubted he could have done so himself. "Not your fault. Well, it is, since you joined the Death Eaters, but you know what I mean. You didn't pick that moment." Seeing the pain Draco had endured, Harry felt guilty for saying it was Draco's fault at all, but it was true. And a reminder of why Harry had to doubt Draco's loyalties. If Voldemort or one of the Death Eaters found Draco, would he be able to hold out? Harry wanted to believe so. He remembered Draco's hesitation before Dumbledore – surely that showed Draco's conscience at work. And yet...
His thoughts were interrupted. Draco said, " I suppose the best thing now would be to try to go to sleep."
"Probably," Harry agreed. He doubted how well either of them would sleep, but it was the only sensible thing to do. "We should move on early tomorrow. Are you going to be all right?"
"Sure," Draco's voice rang with bravado. "If you don't mind bringing me my t-shirt."
By which Harry understood that Draco still hurt too much to want to move. He got off the bed and opened Draco's rucksack. The green shirt was on top, neatly folded. Harry tossed it to Draco and left for the toilet.
When he came back he thought Draco might have already managed to fall asleep, so he took off his clothes quickly and switched out the light. He was about to get into the sleeping bag when Draco said through the darkness, "Still sure you want to help me, Harry?"
The room's light would be too much. "Accio. Lumos." The tip of his wand glowed and he went over to Draco.
"I gave you my word. You don't think I'd go back on it, do you?"
"No," said Draco, "but..."
"No," Harry cut him off. Draco's eyes were huge, his face paler than usual in the wand-light – or was it the aftermath of shock? Harry leaned down and kissed him. "We're in this together, Draco."
Climbing onto his cot, Harry thought idly that Hermione might approve, if not for Ginny. She had always said that the Sorting Hat had the right idea about wanting the four Houses to work together. Not that Hermione would necessarily think highly of Harry getting involved with Draco, but working with him would fit her notions of the-right-thing-to-do.
As Harry hovered on the edge of sleep, another idea occurred to him. Perhaps, just perhaps, Draco might have some information that could help lead Harry to Voldemort's Horcruxes. There were very likely three, possibly four, still to find and destroy as Dumbledore had planned. Harry doubted that Draco would know much about Voldemort's movements or habits but he might have heard something sometime, perhaps from his father. Learning what Draco might know without explaining why, though, would be difficult. Harry fell asleep, still pondering.
Morning dawned grey. They left the hostel by seven, giving the impression that they planned a long hike that day, and as soon as there was no one in sight, Disapparated.
Draco had said to Harry while they were dressing that he thought the reason the Mark had hurt so badly this time might be because Voldemort was somewhere nearer by than had been the case before when Draco had been summoned. Harry felt that was a plausible explanation, and so they agreed to go somewhere far to the south. Not directly to Bath, however; instead they Apparated to Brighton and spent the morning mingling with the holiday crowd. Harry enjoyed it, despite being concerned at how Draco might react to large numbers of Muggles. It was not impossible, either, that one of Voldemort's supporters could be among them. But Harry had never gone on holiday with the Dursleys, so he ignored the possibility and acted as if he had no worries.
Gradually Draco picked up on Harry's mood and began to smile rather than sneer at the sight of Muggles anointing themselves with lotion, where a wizard would perform a basic Anti-Sunburn charm. He ate his full share of the bagful of sausage rolls and vegetable pasties that Harry bought them for lunch, as well. By the time they Apparated on to Bath in midafternoon, Harry was determined to talk to Ron and Hermione, especially Hermione, about what they should do next. Perhaps without Draco there, if he could manage it, so that they could discuss the Horcruxes and some other matters freely.
They were to meet the other two at five o'clock by the hostel, and still had a couple of hours to spare. Harry said, "Want to look at the baths? I suppose that's what there is to do here."
"Why not?" Draco shrugged.
The restored Roman buildings proved more interesting than Harry had expected. Draco, as it turned out, was a fount of knowledge about obscure points of Roman religion and social habits, and his whispering some of the odder of those to Harry nearly got them thrown out when Harry laughed aloud too often. The notion of a recipe that began, "Take ten thousand larks' tongues," struck him as absolutely hilarious for some reason. Eventually the frowns of the older tourists became too much, and they decided to go wait for Ron and Hermione, though it was still a few minutes early.
Ron was already standing in front of the hostel when Harry and Draco arrived, wearing an extremely disgruntled expression.
"What's up, Ron?" Harry asked as soon as he reached him.
"Hi, Harry. Malfoy," Ron added coldly.
"Weasley," Draco inclined his head.
Harry ignored the animosity. "Is there some kind of problem? Where's Hermione?"
"Oh no, no problem. Hermione's inside, she managed to talk both her parents and mine into letting us stay here tonight, I don't know how," said Ron.
"Great!" Harry said.
"Yeah, that's good, but," and now there was a note of anguish in Ron's voice, "she insisted on getting here at noon and touring everything we could possibly manage in the time. D'you know how boring it is to hear about what kind of material Muggles used for draperies two hundred years ago?"
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione appeared from inside, "anyone would think I was making you write a three-foot essay on it. It wouldn't hurt you to learn a bit about Muggle history, goodness knows you've never learned anything in Professor Binns' class. Hello, Harry, Draco. Everything gone all right so far?"
"Not really," said Harry.
Both his friends looked anxious. "What happened?" Ron said, shooting a suspicious look at Draco.
"Last night..." Harry began, then thought better of it. Voldemort's summons had been to Draco, and it was the Slytherin who should tell what had happened. "Draco? You explain."
Draco blinked, but said, "Last night You-Know-Who summoned the Death Eaters. It was worse than any time ever before. I'm not sure if that was because he was closer, or angrier, or what." He held out his arm and showed Hermione and Ron how the Dark Mark had turned black, and had not yet faded back to the red they had seen several days ago.
"Have you two learned anything useful yet?" said Harry urgently. "We can keep hopping from place to place for a while, but..."
"I know," said Hermione. She looked around. "We'd better find somewhere more private to talk."
"Let us just leave our things here first," said Harry. "I'd rather not haul it all around all night."
The four of them walked along several streets, looking for something suitable. Without consciously deciding to, Harry found himself walking next to Draco and behind Hermione and Ron, who were again bickering about the sightseeing Hermione had insisted they do.
Harry noticed that the bruise he had left on Draco's neck two nights earlier was plainly visible above his t-shirt. Bollocks. Well, maybe the other two had not spotted it yet.
"Draco, do you know a spell to get rid of bruises?" he asked in an undertone.
"What? Oh. Oh," said Draco, his eyes widening. "Er... try Pallesco."
Stopping, Harry pulled out his wand. "Pallesco," he muttered, and was relieved to see the bruise fade from purplish brown to a scarcely visible yellow. When he repeated the spell, it disappeared altogether. He stuck the wand back in his pocket and quickly knelt and pretended to be retying the lace on his trainer when Ron, realizing that Harry was no longer behind him, turned to see what had happened.
"'S all right, my shoe came untied is all," Harry said, hurrying to catch up. "Which way now?"
"How about going in there?" Draco pointed across the street and the three Gryffindors swivelled their heads simultaneously to look.
"A churchyard, brilliant idea," said Ron sarcastically. "It's right out in the open, Malfoy."
"It's not a bad idea, actually," Hermione frowned. "For a church it looks rather neglected. I can't imagine anyone else would be wanting to go in there tonight."
Ron threw up his hands. "Fine."
Harry suspected that what bothered Ron was the state of the place. Even from here he could see the many strands of spider web that festooned the overgrown bushes, but it could not be helped. It was private enough that they could talk about wizarding things all they liked without risk of being overheard.
There were several benches scattered around, none of which would hold more than three people, so Harry flung himself down on the long grass in front of one bench and waited for the others to sit. Draco picked the end closest to Harry. Ron hesitated. Harry could tell he was weighing being next to Draco against being next to the spider-infested bushes. As Ron paused, Hermione moved past him and sat in the middle, leaving Ron no choice. He sat at the other end, but as close to Hermione as possible.
"Let me see your arm again, Draco," said Hermione in a matter-of-fact voice. She held his wrist and looked the Mark over carefully, her lips pursed. "How long does it take to fade from black to red again, after you've been summoned?"
"A day," said Draco.
"A day? Exactly twenty-four hours?" Hermione pursued.
Draco scowled. "I never paid that much attention to it, but probably."
"So when did it happen? I want to know how long we'll have to examine it like this and when it will change back," Hermione clarified.
"I don't know exactly when," said Draco, sounding scornful and defensive both at once. "I wasn't looking at a clock at the time."
Harry saw Hermione's eyes flicker to Draco's neck, and he interposed hastily, "We were hanging about at the hostel. I'd guess it was about eleven or so; there's a few hours yet."
"All right. Well, we already know that the Dark Mark is a variation of the Protean Charm. But it seems there are at least two special conditions on it. First, it can't be removed, that we know of." Hermione looked at Draco questioningly, and he nodded.
"That's right. My... my father didn't know of any way. I overheard him once, talking about it with my mother."
Hearing that Lucius Malfoy had considered trying to remove the Dark Mark that bound him to Voldemort surprised Harry. His first guess was that the elder Malfoy would have done so solely for his own benefit and safety, when it looked like Voldemort would never return, but he could be wrong. He wanted to ask Draco if he knew why his father would have done it, but decided that Draco would be more likely to answer if Ron and Hermione were not there. For the moment Harry kept quiet.
Hermione was nodding. "That much I was fairly sure of, it fits You-Know-Who's personality. The second modification is that he can use the Mark to find the Death Eaters himself, if they don't obey his summons."
"That's what Professor Snape told me, when he warned me to run," Draco said.
Ron had been silent through the discussion so far, but now he said skeptically, "So you hadn't known that before? You just took Snape's word for it?"
Draco leaned forward to glare past Hermione at Ron. "Harry asked me that too, Weasel. But he couldn't think of a reason why Professor Snape would've lied. Can you do better?"
It was plain that Ron wanted very much to think of such a reason. His face had flushed with irritation until it was as red as his hair, but he said nothing.
Unexpectedly, it was Draco himself who answered his own question, after the awkward silence had persisted for several minutes. "Oh, no. But it still must be true, because how else...?" he mumbled, running his hands distractedly through his hair as he stared wide-eyed at Harry..
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"What must be true?" demanded Hermione at the same moment, in a voice that sounded rather like Professor McGonagall's.
Draco winced. "Harry, I didn't tell you all the truth."
"Big surprise there," Harry heard Ron mutter. Draco must have heard it as well, but he did not react to the jibe.
"When I came to find you... it wasn't my idea. It was Professor Snape's suggestion, after he told me that the Mark could be used to trace me. He said you were too honorable and courageous not to help me, even if you despised me, but that since you were about the most unlikely person I would turn to the chances were that You-Know-Who would never guess it," Draco said. "I suppose I should have told you, but I know how much you hate Professor Snape and I thought you wouldn't listen to me at all if I said he had suggested it. But – maybe he was hoping I would find you, for other reasons."
"Yeah, so that he and the Death Eaters could find me too, if they followed you," Harry said bitterly.
"But that would mean it wasn't a lie about the Mark being used to track people," Hermione pointed out. "And if he didn't lie about that, why assume he would use Draco to find Harry? After all, Draco didn't manage to kill Professor Dumbledore, his record of success isn't good, so why would Professor Snape need to use him to find Harry? Everyone at Hogwarts knew Harry spends at least part of the summer with his aunt and uncle. Professor Snape could wait for him there, or the other Death Eaters could, to catch him and take him to Voldemort."
"No, they couldn't," said Harry.
"Why not?" asked Ron.
"Because going there once a year keeps me safe from Voldemort till I come of age," Harry said. He saw the looks on their faces, varying mixtures of confusion and disbelief. "Dumbledore told me so. Until I'm seventeen, my mother's blood protects me from direct harm from him. So it wouldn't have done any good to wait at the Dursleys' for me, I'm still sixteen. Nothing has ever hurt me there, and if Voldemort could have, he would have, I'm sure."
"But what about the Dementors two summers ago?"
Hermione had a point. Harry considered it, and realized, "Voldemort didn't send them to Little Whinging. That was Umbridge. So it doesn't contradict what Dumbledore said."
"But it doesn't mean that I might not be leading the Death Eaters to you," Draco's voice was flat and miserable. "If not right now, then within a couple of weeks, as soon as you turn seventeen."
"Or Snape could still have been lying," said Hermione, "although honestly I can't quite see why he would, except maybe just to scare Draco so that he would be extra-careful about hiding?"
Now it was Harry's turn to stare in disbelief. Hermione had a habit of trying to find the best in people – like Dumbledore, he realized – but surely this was going too far, even for her. A tangle of emotions roiled in him. He was angry with Draco for not having said all this to begin with; worried that their suspicions might be correct and Draco might be being used to track Harry like a human niffler; pleased that Ron had been clever enough to realize that Snape had possibly lied about this use of the Mark; and, most exasperatingly and despite himself, flattered that Snape had said he had honor and courage. He did not want to hear anything good about Snape.
It was too much to cope with all at once. Harry let himself fall back on the grass, disregarding the twigs poking into his neck and back, and threw an arm across his eyes.
He heard whispers above him on the bench, then Ron saying in an annoyed voice, "Oh, all right," and finally feet moving away.
Someone sat down on the ground next to him, but Harry refused to look and see who it was.
"Harry?"
ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9 / ch. 10 / ch. 11 / ch. 12 / ch. 13 / ch. 14 / ch. 15 / ch. 16 / ch. 17 / ch. 18 / ch. 19 / ch. 20 / ch. 21 / ch. 22 / ch. 23 / ch. 24 / ch. 25 / ch. 26 / ch. 27 / ch. 28 / ch. 29 / ch. 30 / ch. 31 / ch. 32 / ch. 33 / ch. 34 / ch. 35 / ch. 36 / ch. 37 / ch. 38 / ch. 39 / ch. 40