HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 32: The Burrow, Again [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 32, "The Burrow, Again" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: adult Summary: Draco is less than enthusiastic about letting Hermione try to remove the Dark Mark from his arm.
If Harry had something significant to say, Draco wished he would just say it and get it over with. Having been so aroused and left unsatisfied, and then having been asked to cooperate in something that he knew was going to be almost intolerably painful, had left Draco irritated and resentful. He yanked off his clothes and tossed them aside, not even bothering to see that they fell into the hamper, and then pulled the green t-shirt over his head. Tonight he didn't want to be bare in front of Harry, even if the alternative was to wear the shirt that Harry had bought him. Had there been another room with a bed made up, he thought, he might even have gone to sleep there instead.
"So what is it that you have to tell me that is so important?" he asked when Harry had finally finished cleaning his teeth and putting on his pyjamas. Draco found himself obscurely angry that Harry was wearing them, but he could not exactly object.
"There's a couple of things." Harry leaned on one elbow, watching Draco as he spoke. "For one, I do actually know what I'm asking you to go through to remove the Mark."
Draco wanted to protest, "No, you don't," but the words died on his lips as Harry continued.
"Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on me, the night he returned. I can hardly describe it – it felt as if my bones were on fire inside my body." Harry's face was pinched at the memory, his attention focused inward. "I can't believe removing the Mark could be any worse, and Hermione will stop any time you need a break to recover a bit."
"You were only fourteen, and you withstood the Cruciatus Curse." Draco spoke the words with reluctant admiration. He had no doubt but that Harry was telling the truth, though Lucius Malfoy had certainly never mentioned that when he had spoken of Voldemort's return. His resentment faded; it was difficult to justify it, seeing Harry like this. Harry knew.
"Yeah." Harry looked almost embarrassed. "After that he fought me in a wizard's duel, and when I managed to escape, I had to bring Cedric's body back with me. That was nearly as hard to bear as Crucio, in its way." He drew in a breath, then said, "I saw how you reacted to the Permutatio – it must have been pretty bad. I... I have a lot of respect for you, that you're willing to keep on with it."
"Right." Draco couldn't get the image of Harry with Cedric's body out of his head. He wondered if he'd been wrong, if it hadn't been Weasley who was the boy Harry had kissed before. Maybe it had been Diggory. Would Harry do the same for Draco, if there were ever a need for it? "I'll try." He couldn't endure less than Harry had, it would be unbecoming in a Malfoy. A half-laugh, half-sob escaped him. Not that anyone else would ever know or care about that. "I'll try, if you'll stay with me."
"Would you want me there? I thought you might prefer it to be private."
"Hermione will have to be there to cast the spell anyway, and I wouldn't want anyone else, but... I'll need you, Harry." If Harry were there, Draco would remember that it was possible to endure the Cruciatus Curse, that it was worth the pain to remove the Mark. He hoped. Just now all he could remember was that pain as he looked at Harry, silently willing him to agree.
"I'll stay with you, then."
"Thanks." Draco bit his lip. "You had something else to tell me?"
He hadn't thought there could be a worse topic, but Harry said, "I wanted to talk to you about Ginny."
Oh, Merlin. Gritting his teeth, Draco waited, and the words he'd dreaded came.
"I love her." The sentence echoed in Draco's head, but Harry hadn't finished. "I couldn't stand it if she were hurt, so I broke up with her."
That made no sense. "But if you..."
Harry spoke over Draco's confusion, explaining, "Everyone knew about us. Voldemort was bound to hear about it – I assumed Snape would tell him, if no one else had – and he'd already possessed her in second year, so it would be easy for him to threaten her and use that as leverage against me. All I could do to protect her from that was to break up."
Draco was sure he knew what Harry was trying to say. "So if... when you defeat him, you'll go back to Ginny." It had all been nothing more than circumstance then, the two of them together in a tight situation, just a bit of fun on the run for Potter. Stupid of Draco to have hoped otherwise, to have thought it meant more than that. He was broken out of his self-castigating thoughts by Harry's voice.
"No! I did intend to, and Ginny understood. But not any more. I'd... I'd rather be with you, but you're vulnerable too. Voldemort must consider you a weakling at best, a traitor at worst. He'd torture or kill you if he had his hands on you, and I," Harry swallowed, "I couldn't stand that. Luckily he couldn't guess he could use you to threaten me. Only Hermione knows about us."
"Mrs. Weasley too," said Draco absently, recalling his talk with Hermione. "And Ginny Weasley isn't an idiot – yes, I can admit that, don't look at me as if I'd sprouted horns, my point is that she might have guessed as well. If she hasn't I'm sure she will sooner or later – she loves you, anyone can see that, and she's going to notice that you've changed toward her."
"Yeah." Harry seemed to be thinking about that; Draco wasn't sure if he had convinced him when Harry said, "Even if Ginny and her mother know, it's not like it's public knowledge. I don't have to worry that if Voldemort caught you he might torture you specifically to try to get at me, and that's a relief."
"He'd torture me regardless, so I don't see that his motives matter much. Unless you're saying that you'd leave me to it if he weren't using me to threaten you?" It wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to be caught, and if he were... Draco tried hard to keep the disquiet he felt from his voice.
Harry shot back, "Of course I'd try to rescue you. But it would be because I wanted to, it wouldn't be a reaction to him. Does that make any sense? Plus, if we can get the Mark removed, or altered enough, that might protect you more as well."
"I understand," the words came slowly, as now it was relief that he tried to hide. Harry wouldn't leave him, Harry wanted to do everything he could to make sure Draco wasn't at any greater risk that was already the case. "We'd better keep – us – a secret then. I hope the Weasleys and Hermione are trustworthy; until You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters are destroyed, best that they not have any clue." Except... Professor Snape might very well guess. It had been his idea that Draco go to Harry in the first place, and Draco knew that Snape was a skilled Legilimens – he could easily have read Draco's thoughts and realized how he felt about Harry any time in the past several years, and perhaps Snape had read Harry's, too, and seen something to suggest that Harry could reciprocate Draco's feelings. Damn. Draco couldn't keep back a brief bitter laugh. If Snape had guessed, there was nothing either of them could do about it now.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." There was no point in telling Harry his suspicions. Maybe he was wrong, anyway, and he didn't fancy hearing Harry go off on a tirade about Snape. The man wasn't the most pleasant person, and he hadn't always been fair to Harry at Hogwarts – Draco was quite willing to concede that – but he had helped save Draco's skin, and had been a friend of the Malfoy family since before Draco was born. Draco scrambled to find something to distract Harry's attention.
"Anything else to confess, since this is apparently the big night for it?"
"Not really. Unless there was something you wanted to tell me?" Clear green eyes gazed at him questioningly.
There were a hundred things he wanted to say... and most of them would lay bare parts of himself that he did not want to reveal, not even to Harry. Not yet. Draco shook his head. Distract him. "No. Um. I just remembered, we need to add hellebore to that third potion at two o'clock exactly. I'll go down and do it if you like." Harry looked more tired than Draco felt, and they both knew Draco was better at potion-making anyway; Harry's performance in Professor Slughorn's class had to have been an aberration. Besides, Draco knew he'd be able to wake up sufficiently at that hour not to make some silly mistake like stirring clockwise instead of the reverse. "I really don't mind, I can get in a couple of hours' sleep first."
When he woke at a quarter of two, Harry was curled up in a ball, one hand resting against Draco's back. Cautiously Draco slipped out from under the covers; he didn't want to wake Harry, that was the whole point. Harry stirred and mumbled something that Draco couldn't quite hear, but then stilled again.
Halfway down to the cellar, Draco realized that he had forgotten to put anything on his feet. Oh, well, he'd cast a warming charm when he got there. And he'd be a bit more careful about it than Harry, or he'd end up dancing on the hot stones of the floor like a sausage in a frying pan.
Adding the hellebore was simple, just a matter of measuring the powdered root and stirring thirty-nine times counter-clockwise, as the recipe stipulated. Draco checked over the other potions while he was there. All of them looked right for this stage in their brewing; the next time any would need attention wouldn't be till after breakfast, and then they could be safely left all day while he and Harry were at the Weasleys'. Draco tried not to think about what would happen there. Just because he'd agreed to let Granger keep at him with the Permutatio spell didn't mean he was looking forward to it. He tapped the thick greyish liquid off the spoon he'd been stirring with and laid it aside, then turned off the light before heading back to their room.
Dim moonlight shining through the thin curtains let him see Harry sitting up, huddled against the headboard, when he reached it. "Harry? What's wrong?" He had seemed soundly asleep when Draco left.
"I... I had a nightmare." Harry's voice was thin, shamed. If he was saying anything at all, the dream must have been something terrible. Draco found himself almost compelled to hurry over, slide into the bed beside Harry and reach out for him.
The Vow, he realized. I swear I will do my best to help and protect you in any need. Not that he wouldn't have wanted to help Harry in any case, but he couldn't avoid it even if he had. "What was it about?"
"Voldemort, who else? I was trying to curse him, but I hadn't destroyed all the Horcruxes and the hexes just bounced off. Then he started threatening everyone I cared about, they were all there, and you were right up front and the first person he aimed at. And the screams started and I... I woke up, and you were gone." His shaking body belied the tightness of his voice. Draco ran his hand flat along Harry's spine, trying to calm him.
"It's all right, it was only a nightmare, not real." Thankfully, because it could have been real. Which he had to explain to Harry when Harry agreed, saying that dreams never actually hurt anyone. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Harry had been raised as a Muggle and didn't know a great deal of what Draco took for granted.
"They can," Draco said reluctantly. "There are ways to cause a dream to leave an actual physical imprint on your body when you wake."
"Surely that's illegal?" Harry sounded shocked, and he stiffened against Draco's arm. "It sounds like Dark Magic to me."
"It's not. Not illegal, either, because it can be used for all kinds of purposes. Sometimes healers at St. Mungo's use it. And there are effects that are enjoyable, even." He hadn't tried any of those himself, although Blaise claimed to have done so.
It took a moment for Harry to realize what Draco meant. "Oh!"
"But it's not that easy, though there have been some wizards who used it a lot. All those Muggle legends of incubi and succubi came from somewhere, after all, but there are easier ways to attack someone, even if you want to be sure it's anonymous." Draco could think of a half-dozen such methods himself, and he was certain that Voldemort must know far more.
"I don't think it was an attack, just a nightmare," Harry said. "Nervousness. You know." He was still shivering a little.
"No doubt. Your scar hasn't been hurting, has it?" Draco stroked sweat-dampened dark hair away from Harry's forehead. The faint light made it difficult to see, but he couldn't tell that it looked different.
"It hasn't. Rather surprising, actually, that I haven't sensed anything from him since about the time Dumbledore... died. You'd think I'd've felt his triumph at the defeat of his greatest enemy."
"But it's you who are his greatest enemy, you know, not Dumbledore," Draco contradicted him. "You're the one figuring out how to kill him. I still agree that tonight was an ordinary nightmare; if he were using dream magic on you, you wouldn't be sitting here talking rationally." Draco didn't know a lot about dream magic, really, but he was sure of that much. "I'd bet this house is too well hidden, even if he had any idea where you are. Come on. You have to get some sleep, and so do I.." He tugged Harry down, keeping an arm around him.
Harry's face pressed against Draco's shoulder. "Thanks," he said in a sleepy mumble.
"Sh. Sleep. We're safe here. Just sleep." Draco whispered the words like a litany as he watched Harry's eyes droop shut and his face grow slack and peaceful. Not until he was sure that Harry was fast asleep again did he let himself drift off as well, still holding Harry close.
He woke this time to Harry shaking him. "Draco."
Oh, Demeter's drawers. They were going to that hovel of the Weasleys', and Granger – Hermione, he reminded himself sleepily – was going to torture him. Not her fault, of course, nor Harry's for demanding that he get rid of it; if anything it was his own, letting himself be Marked, though he had not exactly had much choice in the matter. There wasn't much to choose from between the pain of the transfiguration spell and that of one of Voldemort's summons. He groaned and twisted away into the pillow, but Harry wouldn't let him be.
"Come on, Draco. Dobby'll have breakfast ready soon, but there's time for a quick shower first. Then we'll check the potions before we leave, all right?"
Grumbling, Draco allowed himself to be pulled out of bed. "Shower with me?"
Harry blinked, green eyes widening behind those silly spectacles. "I already took one."
He had, Draco could tell. Harry's hair was still wet and he smelt of soap. "Won't hurt you to go in again, will it?" He wasn't planning to get too inventive in there, but after all he hadn't gotten any last night, whereas Harry had. Draco licked his lips, thinking about it.
"All right." Harry shrugged and started peeling off his clothes. "But we have to be quick."
Standing under the warm water, Draco kissed Harry, trying not to show his desperation. There was no way to wriggle out of his promise to let Hermione try to remove the Mark, but at least he could have some pleasant memory of this day. Harry tugged him closer, their bodies fitting together, touching and stroking until they had both come. Afterward Draco leaned against Harry, arm snugged around his shoulders.
"Better now?" Harry grinned and handed him the soap.
"Yeah," said Draco, washing all the bits of himself he could reach, shrugging, and washing Harry's bits as well even though he knew Harry was perfectly clean already. It was an excuse to touch him, to put off the moment they'd have to go... and Harry seemed to realize what Draco was doing, because he took the slippery bar back and drew Draco in for a fierce kiss, whispering afterward, "I promised I'd stay with you today, and I will."
Draco just hoped that would be enough. All the time they were checking on the potions – adding three drops of extract of blackthorn root to one, stirring another, carefully setting a third to the lowest imaginable simmer – he could distract himself. Eating toast and eggs and tomatoes and drinking tea was of no such help, and the knot in Draco's stomach tightened.
They Flooed to the Burrow this time. No sense chancing that someone at the Ministry might be watching for unlicensed Apparation, Harry said, not if they didn't need to, and Draco wouldn't be much better off if the Ministry had him in their hands than if Voldemort did. He might not have actually harmed Dumbledore, but he had still let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Ungentle questioning might be the least of it.
Harry went through first, calling out "The Burrow" in a firm tone. Draco took a handful of Floo powder and hesitated. He could go somewhere else. He could stay here in Grimmauld Place. He could... but he had promised. Mouth set, he tossed the powder in and stepped into the green flame, watching the grates whirl past until he stumbled out at the Burrow, shaking the soot from his robes.
Already Harry appeared nearly surrounded by the two chattering Weasleys; Draco could hear Ron trying to get him to promise to stay the night.
"No, Ron, I have Dobby helping out now at Grimmauld Place, he'll be terribly disappointed if we're not back for supper... besides," Harry lowered his voice, "we're working on something. Tell you about it later."
"What are you working on?"
Draco barely kept himself from jumping in startlement when Hermione appeared at his elbow, gazing at him speculatively.
"Some dissolving potions, for the locket," he told her quietly. "The first one didn't work, not surprising, but we've several more possibilities brewing. Harry'll probably want to talk to you about them."
"Anything else?" She moved as if to lay her fingers on his arm, but he pulled away.
"Talk to Harry, all right?" He knew he was being rather rude to the only person here who had even tried to be cordial to him, and he sighed. Harry would be annoyed with him; they needed Hermione's help. "Sorry," he muttered.
"I suppose you'll want to have me try to alter the Mark today?" Granger was sharp, no question.
Draco nodded.
"Wait here." She bustled off, somehow managing to pull Harry aside for a minute and whispering to him.
"Some pumpkin juice, dear?" Mrs. Weasley was smiling at Draco and offering him a glass. He wanted to spit that he was not her "dear," but with an effort merely nodded and tried to smile back as he took it and drank. She might be overfamiliar but she was being hospitable, after all.
"We're going to go play some Quidditch, come on, Draco," Harry called from across the room.
Muttering a hasty thanks to Mrs. Weasley, Draco hurried over. "But I thought...?" he murmured to Harry as they headed for the back garden.
"An excuse. It'll be easier out here. Ron knows what we're doing, of course; he won't want to watch, but his parents might, if they knew. To 'keep an eye on things,' and you wouldn't want that. If they think we're just playing Quidditch they won't be fussed. Now. Hermione never plays anyhow, and you can't play so well with three, so I'll volunteer to sit out the first round, let Ginny and Ron play together. We'll see how it goes, but don't worry, I'll be there with you," Harry explained as they walked towards the broom shed.
"Ginny, if you want to take mine, go ahead," Harry told her. "Draco needs to talk to Hermione, and two's better than three for playing. We can swap around after a bit."
She looked slightly suspicious, but evidently tempted by the thought of riding Harry's Firebolt. "Want me to take the Quaffle and you can practice some Keeping, Ron?"
The two redheads swooped off, Ginny on Harry's broom and Ron on his own Cleansweep, and the other three sat down under an oak tree.
"Right. Roll up your left sleeve." Hermione was all business, pulling out her wand.
Reluctantly he folded the soft cotton away from his skin. She pursed her lips. "Do you remember which part was altered last Thursday?" Draco indicated the edge of the skull, near its jaw. "Oh yes, I see. Ready?"
Draco reached out with his right hand to Harry, who took it. "Ready." He wished his voice weren't so faint.
"Permutatio."
He had been hoping that he'd misremembered just how much it hurt. Pain seared through his arm and he gripped Harry's hand, biting his lip till he tasted blood. He watched as a tiny section of the skull seemed to unravel and disappear from his skin.
It felt like long minutes before Hermione lowered her wand, ending the spell. The pain itself went with it, but it required an effort to unclench his grip on Harry, finger by finger. Hermione bent forward to examine the change.
"Well, it's working. Slowly." She glanced up at him. "Shall I go on?"
All Draco could manage was a nod, and Harry spoke instead. "Yes. It has to be done."
She frowned, but raised her wand again. "Permutatio."
A dozen times she cast the spell, and a dozen times Draco held onto Harry, telling himself it would only be a little while, a few more moments, he had promised he would do this; trying to take pleasure in the fact that gradually the Mark was vanishing from his skin, perhaps an eighth of it gone now.
When Hermione made as if to keep on, though, Draco said, "No. Please. No more."
Harry turned disappointed eyes on him, and Draco added, "Just... give me a few minutes, all right? Let me watch them play. Then you can try again." He jerked his chin upward to where Ron and Ginny still flew, evidently uninterested in what was happening below. Ginny was Keeping now, and Draco could hear faintly the yell she gave when Ron managed to put a Quaffle through the left-hand hoop.
"All right. Shall I get you a glass of water?" Hermione stood and walked off towards the house, not bothering to wait for his reply. It would have been yes.
"How is it?" Harry asked, low.
"How do you think?" Draco could not keep all the bitterness, the anguish, from his voice. "It fucking hurts, Harry. It's going to take her a hundred tries to get this thing off me, and it's not exactly the kind of sensation one grows accustomed to. I honestly don't know how much more I can stand today."
Harry was stroking Draco's other hand, running gentle fingers over his wrist and up his arm, caressing the unblemished skin. "If it's too bad to bear, we can stop for a while, till tomorrow even. You didn't promise to have it all done in one day."
"No." Draco couldn't believe he'd said that, when Harry was giving him such an easy way out. "I want it off me." I want you to be proud of me, he didn't say. He had already risked, lost, too much: Voldemort was not exactly known for mercy, and Draco's failure to kill Dumbledore would not be forgiven. There was no reason to keep the Mark when he never intended to answer another summons. If Harry wanted it gone, Draco would endure whatever it took. Although he had told the truth when he said he didn't know how much more he could handle today, he could manage a few more of Hermione's spells. He thought he could. Besides, the Vow was tugging at him again. Somehow it must be that having Draco freed from that tie to Voldemort would be of help to Harry, though Draco could not see how.
"If you say so." Harry's eyes were worried. "I'll tell Hermione to keep at it, for a little while at least. If she can remove half the Mark, I would think you'd be safe enough... I hope so."
"Better to get rid of it all," said Draco roughly, trying not to think about how long that would take, how much it would hurt before it was done.
Nodding, Harry leaned closer and brushed his lips against Draco's cheek.
"I thought you didn't want to do anything like that where anyone could see us," Draco said.
Instead of answering, Harry took Draco's chin in his hand and kissed him, gently but thoroughly, on the mouth; a kiss that felt like a promise. Draco wanted to give in to it, but as his eyes flickered shut he caught a glimpse of Hermione trudging back.
"Wait... Hermione's back." Draco pulled away, breathless. Why had Harry done that?
Harry scowled and turned as Hermione came up to them, carrying a pitcher and with five glasses floating behind her.
"You might be a little more discreet," she said, not looking at either of them as she plucked the glasses out of the air and filled one, handing it to Draco. "Ginny and Ron could end their game at any minute and come fetch you to play, Harry."
"I know." Harry's face was red. "I wasn't... Never mind, stupid of me, I know. I'd actually meant to ask you not to mention us to anyone else. I mean, if anyone found out, especially a Death Eater, it could be really dangerous for Draco."
"What's the point of me not saying anything if you're going to go and snog in public?" Hermione crossed her arms and glared.
"The Burrow isn't exactly public," Draco tried to point out in Harry's defense, but Hermione shot him a look of pure disgust, as if it had been Draco's idea.
"Harry, if you want to keep a secret, you have to keep it properly," she scolded.
"I will. It was a mistake. It won't happen again," said Harry.
Hermione looked at him, glanced at Draco, and shrugged, sighing. "It's your funeral if it does." Draco felt a chill run through him at the casual way she said that.
"It won't," Harry protested. "And look, if Ginny says anything, you know, asks you if there's something between Draco and me, could you... downplay it? I'm not asking you to lie, if she's guessed, but... I don't want to hurt her. God." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as he caught a tangle. "What a mess."
"Yes," said Hermione, "it is." She cocked her head. "I'll do what you ask, if you'll promise to be more discreet."
"We will. Won't we, Draco?"
"Fine," Draco said, but he couldn't help squeezing Harry's hand as he did.
"But I did promise Draco to stay with him while you cast the spell. Permutatio on the Mark may not be as painful as Crucio, but that's not saying much. It must be something that Voldemort did in making the Mark in the first place, because when we tested it on me it didn't have that effect. If me being here helps, I have to stay."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose that'll be all right, but if Ron or Ginny comes down, at least stop holding hands when I'm not actually casting the spell, can you?" She took out her wand. "Ready for another go, Draco?"
In answer, he held out his left arm and fought to keep silent as it felt like his skin was being burnt away.
By the time that the two Weasleys landed, laughing and talking about the moves they had each pulled, Hermione had managed to get rid of nearly a third of the Mark, which was rather better than Draco had hoped. He had given up his effort at complete stoicism long since, but was still ashamed enough of the tears drying on his cheeks and the sounds that had had come from his throat that Ron's casual, "Enjoying yourself, Malfoy?" made him wrench away from Harry and stand up.
He felt as if he might fall right down again, but he forced himself to look Ron steadily in the eye. "Keep your mouth shut, Weasley, because you don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Ron's face turned red. "If you think..." he began, but somehow both Harry and Hermione had stepped between them, with Ginny off to one side, looking nettled.
"Don't, Draco. Please," said Harry quietly. Hermione was saying something to Ron that Draco couldn't hear, only that it sounded urgent.
Draco took a deep breath. "I won't if he won't."
"He didn't mean to be rude," but there was an edge of doubt in Harry's voice. "It's the same thing he would've said to me." He had taken Draco's hand again for a moment, but seemed to realize what he had done and dropped it, clasping his shoulder instead.
"Yeah. Sure." Draco stepped away from Harry. "I think I'd like to play for a bit now, if that's all right? Ginny?"
Ginny looked at him, then back at Harry. "Don't you want to play too?" She held out the Firebolt, and Harry reached for it automatically.
"You and Draco played as a team last time; we should switch around, I think. How about you and Ron against Draco and me?"
That was fine with Draco. Even if Ron hadn't deliberately intended to provoke him, he didn't think he could cope with being the Weasel's partner right now. Ginny would have been all right, he supposed. "Hermione, would you let me borrow your broom again?"
"Of course," she said. "I'll watch, and wave when it's lunchtime. We can do some more work afterward."
Sighing, Draco nodded. Maybe he could stand enough pain to get rid of the Mark today... then, at least, it would be over.