HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 25: To the Black House [Harry/Draco, adult]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 25, "To the Black House" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: adult (barely) Summary: Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron go to Grimmauld Place with Lupin, Tonks, and McGonagall. Draco attempts to detach the portrait of Mrs. Black from the wall, and Hermione makes a first attempt at altering the Mark.
It's just sex, Harry reminded himself. That's not enough to make long-term assumptions about a relationship. But it was hard to hold that thought when Draco's tongue was doing such deliciously erotic things against his own. He pulled Draco closer, turning his head to bite at Draco's neck, feeling the other boy shudder as they rocked together, sweat-dampened skin sliding over skin. Draco gave a hiss that turned into a groan, clutching at Harry's shoulders as he came, his last thrusts sending Harry over the edge as well.
Oh yes, it felt good, but even better than the physical release was the way Draco looked at him, as if there were nothing else in the world right now.
"That was..." Harry began, not sure if he wanted to say "marvelous" or "perfect" or some other word – nothing he could think of could convey all of how he felt.
"Yeah. It was." Draco's mouth moved against his neck in a smile.
"Can you reach my glasses?"
Without them on, Draco's hair was a gilt blur, his features softened. Suddenly Harry wanted to see those lips reddened by kissing, that narrow nose, each golden lash as Draco blinked. But it was late, and they still had another day of searching at Little Hangleton to get through. Draco went to turn out the light. Harry was glad when he came back into the bed although they both might sleep less soundly on the narrow mattress. It felt right to have Draco warm and solid beside him. He shifted a little to let Draco's body fit more closely against his own, and fell asleep wondering what it was Draco was planning for his birthday.
When they Apparated back to the Riddle house for one last attempt at locating a Horcrux there, Harry was determined to leave not one inch uninspected. They went over the second floor, mercifully free of furniture to slow them down, and then through the cellar. It was Draco who pointed out that there probably was a cellar to check – Harry had given it no thought, since the closest the Dursleys had to such a thing was his old closet under the stairs. But one room after another proved empty, with no sign of a Horcrux.
"I just wanted to find one," Harry burst out when they had finished empty-handed. "Just one, to show that I'm on the right track. Is that too much to ask?"
Draco's voice was sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Harry."
It was not Draco's fault, there was no point in taking out his frustration on him. Harry hoped that when they went to the Burrow, Hermione or Ron might have better news.
Ginny met them in the back garden. She was in no better mood than Harry; Ron had left her behind while he went to London to speak with Tonks, and evidently Hermione had, as so often, disappeared alone with a stack of books, so Ginny was feeling useless. Well, Harry could understand that.
The three of them went inside to pry Hermione out of Mr. Weasley's study. She evaded saying what she had been looking for, but told Harry and Draco that Professor McGonagall had agreed that the two of them, plus Ron and Hermione, should go to the Black house the next day with several members of the Order to try removing the Dark Mark from Draco's arm.
At hearing that she would once again be excluded, Ginny stalked out of the room. Harry went after her. He could be reasonably certain that Draco and Hermione would get along all right for the moment... he spared a moment to wonder at that. Perhaps it was because Draco had been forced to stay with the Grangers that he had realized Muggles, and their witch and wizard offspring, were not really so different from purebloods as he had always been taught.
Harry found Ginny out behind the broom shed, pounding her fist against the stone walls.
"Don't, Ginny."
Her eyes were redder than her hair when she turned towards him. "You don't understand."
"Yeah, I do." He caught her hand as she lifted it once again. "Come here."
They sat down with their backs against the shed, and Harry put his arm around Ginny's shoulders. Ten weeks ago he would have given anything to be alone with her like this. Now...
"No one trusts that I can do anything. It's not fair. Just because I'm the youngest, and their only girl, Mum and Dad think I shouldn't be helping you. Ron's no better than I am, not at spells or flying or anything, he's had a year more of school, that's all."
"I know," Harry said. It cost him something to add what he had never wanted to admit. "When you were in the Department of Mysteries with the rest of us last year, you did really well, Ginny. I was glad you were there, even though I'd tried to keep you away."
"So why not this time? I know there's probably nothing much I can do, it's not like there will be a fight against Death Eaters," she managed a watery grin at him, "but how can it hurt?"
"There could be Death Eaters, actually, if the way they home in on the Dark Mark overrides the Unplottability and Fidelius charms on the house. I don't think it's likely. But we really don't know what'll happen when we try to alter the Mark. I can't believe it will be easy. I'm sure some of the Death Eaters who pretended they'd been under the Imperius Curse would have removed their Marks when Voldemort seemed to be gone, to allay suspicion, if there were some straightforward way to do so," said Harry. "It would be a needless risk for you to go. As I said before, I'd really rather Ron didn't go either, and if Hermione weren't the best of us at Transfiguration, I'd feel the same about her."
Ginny sighed and leaned against him. Harry could smell the flowery scent she liked drifting up from her hair, reminding him of last spring. He wanted to keep her safe – little Ginny. Not so little any more, but he would always have that image of her in the back of his mind.
"I'm still going to try to persuade my parents to let me go along," she said.
Now it was Harry's turn to sigh. "I can't stop you doing that, but I wish you wouldn't. If they say yes, then of course you can come... and I'll be worried about you the whole time, in case something goes wrong. You and Hermione and Ron."
"Why not yourself? Why not Draco?"
"I guess because we both have to be there. There's no point in worrying."
"You don't have to be there," said Ginny. "The Order used Grimmauld Place without you all last year, and Professor McGonagall could perform whatever spell you've worked out on Draco."
"I promised Draco I would help him," said Harry quietly. "This is part of that."
"Humph. Not that good a reason. But you're of age tomorrow, no one can stop you going to your own house, I suppose." Ginny grimaced.
"Nope. Look, it must be time for dinner, and your mum'll probably shrink all my clothes till they wouldn't fit a house-elf if we're late," Harry said.
He was somewhat surprised that Ginny was not seated next to him at the dinner table again. Instead Mrs. Weasley had put her about as far away as possible, on the opposite corner and across from Draco.
Mr. Weasley had a funny story to tell about an incident at work, involving a pair of jinxed roller skates, a wading pool, and a hedgehog that had been mistaken for a knarl. Harry laughed when Ron and Hermione did, but he was only half-listening. He wanted to ask Mr. Weasley not to permit Ginny to go to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, but if he did and Ginny found out, she would be furious with him, and he couldn't blame her. He would just have to hope that her father would agree with her mother and forbid it.
When dinner was over, Harry volunteered to clear the table. It was far easier than clearing up after the Dursleys; Mrs. Weasley never allowed him to do more than carry the plates and bowls to the sink, whereas Aunt Petunia expected Harry to do all the washing-up as well. Rather to Harry's surprise, Draco helped. He would have expected Draco to think it was a chore suitable only for house-elves, and to leave it to someone else.
The five of them went and sat in the Weasleys' sitting room, talking. Ron had learned from Tonks that there was a spell, a difficult one of course, that enabled the caster to determine if an object had been enchanted by a particular wizard. "But you have to have something else belonging to that wizard, to match it up with."
That made matters tricky. It was not as if they had heaps of Tom Riddle's old school things lying about to use. Harry was pondering the problem when Draco said, "Could we use the Mark on my arm, since he's touched that? There could still be some resonance of his magic there."
Hermione thought it might be possible, though the fact that Draco himself was a living wizard would doubtless complicate things. She decided to go Floo Professor Flitwick to find out more about the spell.
There was little point in further discussion until Hermione came back, so Harry proposed a game of Exploding Snap. Draco demurred and curled up on the sofa to watch, but Ron and Ginny were both enthusiastic. Ginny's mood improved noticeably as she won hand after hand, and Harry was so engrossed in trying to beat her that he hardly noticed Hermione's return until Ron looked over with a scowl.
"Oi, Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?"
Giving Hermione a shoulder rub was what Draco was doing. Harmless, if unexpected. But it clearly annoyed Ron, and Draco left off with the snippy remark that giving a good massage was not as easy as it might look, and Ron was welcome to try if he thought Hermione would like it better.
"Ginny? Harry?" said Draco. "I'd be happy to give one to either of you instead." He caught Harry's eye, raising pale eyebrows as he did so.
Harry recognized that as a challenge, and admired Draco's ability to manipulate things so that he could touch Harry in front of the others without any of them thinking it odd. He was certain that was the reason Draco had given Hermione the shoulder rub in the first place.
"Why let Hermione get all the benefit?" Harry said lightly, seating himself in front of Draco. "Come here, Ginny, and I'll do you." That should keep Ginny from any suspicions, he felt, and Ron and Hermione were only paying attention to each other.
It was remarkable how skilled Draco was at massage. Who would have thought there would be such power in those slim elegant hands? But his firm kneading chased away every knot in Harry's shoulders, dissolving tension he had hardly recognized he had. He knew that he was not doing anything like so well by Ginny, but it was difficult when he was becoming so relaxed himself.
Not all of him was relaxed, however. At intervals Draco leaned forward and his breath ghosted over Harry's neck, sending shivers down his spine and straight to his cock. Once or twice Draco slipped his hand under Harry's arm and brushed over his chest so that his nipples tightened. But Harry had to admit that Draco did not push it too far. Nothing he did would have been noticeable even if someone were watching, and if Harry reacted so strongly to such minor caresses, that was Harry's fault, not Draco's.
Nevertheless he was relieved when Ron declared that his wrists ached and he had had enough for the night. Draco's touch was tempting, but Harry was determined not to allow himself any untoward intimacies with Draco while at the Burrow. It seemed disrespectful to the Weasleys, especially Ginny.
He did, though, slip down to see Draco in Percy's old room and say goodnight while Ron was using the toilet.
"Tomorrow," Harry promised after a hasty embrace. "We'll be together tomorrow night."
"At your house. And I'll owe you a present," Draco agreed.
Harry went back up to Ron's room with a lighter heart than he would have expected, given his failure to discover any Horcruxes at the Riddle house over the previous several days. He was able to listen to Ron's talk about Auror training and Tonks's advice with nearly all his attention, and slept soundly, waking to Ron wishing him a happy birthday.
Lupin and Tonks arrived during breakfast the next morning, by which time Mrs. Weasley promised to make Harry a cake, and he had received gifts from Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. Lupin looked tired and unhappy, shabbier than ever, but he gave Harry a hug that he said ought to have been from Sirius.
He and Tonks refused Mrs. Weasley's offer to cook them some breakfast too. "We're supposed to meet Minerva at nine – don't want to risk being made late by one of your delicious meals, Molly, you know how she can be."
"Everyone ready?" asked Tonks, looking around as they stood in the garden.
"Just a minute," said Harry. Ginny had not come out of the house. He went inside and found her in the kitchen.
"Don't be upset, Ginny," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "At the rate we're going, there'll be plenty of time for you to help later."
She sighed. "Yeah. Right."
"I'm sorry." Harry had an impulse to tell her that he was sorry about a lot of things, not just because she was not allowed to go with the rest of them today, but she would not know what he meant. Explaining would only hurt her more and there was no time anyway.
"I know. Good luck today, Harry," she replied. She hesitated, then kissed him on the cheek quickly before pulling away and half-running toward the stairs, not looking back.
Everyone was waiting for him. Harry went back outside and they Apparated together to Grimmauld Place, Lupin taking Draco in a Side-Along Apparition. Number twelve was, as Harry expected, nowhere to be seen.
"Minerva should be here soon and then we can all get in," said Lupin.
"Oh..." Harry remembered Draco's suggestion. "Has the Order been using the house recently?"
"Not for over a month. Why?" Lupin asked.
"Draco had an idea about getting that portrait of old Mrs. Black down, but it won't work if she sees us all come in together. He thinks he might be able to trick her into telling him how. Do you suppose Professor McGonagall would allow Draco and me to go in alone, first, for half an hour or so?"
"You can ask her when she arrives," Lupin told him. "I think she would be willing, since you have a good reason. Although she does have other work to do today, no doubt, like most of us."
"It oughtn't to take long, if it works," said Harry. "So the Headmistress is the Secret Keeper for the Order now?"
"No." Lupin smiled. "But she'll be bringing a note from the person who is – you remember how Dumbledore managed it, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
Professor McGonagall arrived only a few minutes later. She had left off her distinctive hat, but had not quite managed a completely Muggle appearance. Still, no one in this street was likely to notice or care.
When Harry explained his request, she looked at him skeptically. "Do you really believe that you and Mr. Malfoy can deceive the portrait, Mr. Potter? What if there is no way to get it down?"
"Then we're no worse off. We fooled Kreacher a few days ago, I think we can manage, and it would be helpful if we do," Harry urged her. Beside him, Draco nodded agreement.
"All right." She handed him a folded piece of parchment. "You two read this and go in. Thirty minutes at the most, mind."
"Yes, Professor." He thought he saw her lips quirk in an almost-smile.
Standing between numbers eleven and thirteen, Harry unfolded the parchment and together they read the words scrawled in an unfamiliar hand.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Almost exactly the same words that Dumbledore had used. Harry thrust away the thought as number twelve sprang into view, its black-painted door just as battered and grimy as he remembered it. No keyhole or doorknob, either. He took out his wand and tapped on the door, saying, "Alohamora." He took a deep breath and looked at Draco as the door opened a couple of inches. "Ready? You'd better go in first. And take my wand."
Draco held both their wands loosely in his left hand and raised his right to push the door open. "Look defeated," he hissed to Harry as he stepped inside.
The ragged velvet curtains were, for a wonder, drawn over Mrs. Black's portrait. Harry pointed at it, then assumed the most dejected and unhappy expression he could manage.
"If you haven't been telling me the truth, Potter, I'll..." Draco said in a threatening tone as he pulled the draperies aside. "Well, I'm astonished, you have. Good morning, aunt." He bowed slightly.
The painted image peered out at him, her mouth pursed in her unlovely yellowing face. "Who are you?"
"I'm Narcissa's boy, aunt Black. Draco Malfoy. I made him," he jerked the thumb of the hand holding the two wands over his shoulder at Harry, "bring me here. Aunt Bellatrix was unable to come. He said that there were a lot of ... useful... things in the Black house."
"Oh, there are indeed," Mrs. Black cackled, then frowned. "If those blood traitors haven't stolen them all, the filth."
She looked about to launch into one of the streams of vituperation that Harry had heard so often two summers ago, but Draco cut her off smoothly.
"I hope not. Since I've made it clear that his future depends on him telling me where they are and me finding them." Draco grinned a vulpine grin, turning it toward Harry as well, but with the eye that was on the opposite side from the portrait, winked. "Haven't I?"
Harry slumped, saying, "Yes," glumly. "But I don't know where everything is, now. Honestly!" He yelped the last word when Draco lifted his wand. "Please, I'm telling the truth."
"You see how it is," Draco said in confidential tones to the portrait. "Not even bright enough to lie. But you must know where everything is, or should be, aunt."
"Of course," she said. "I can tell you of things, oh, such things, nearly every bauble in this house has some useful power."
"Can you show me?" Draco sounded eager, even greedy. "If I carry you around?" He made as if to lift the painting down from its hook, but it did not move.
"Oh, I'm spelled to stay on the wall here in the entryway where I can keep an eye on things. Only a true Black who knows the proper counterspell can take me down," said Mrs. Black smugly.
Harry saw Draco's fist clench for an instant. Then Draco said, "Won't you tell me? I could take you around to see what those scum have done to your house, find out what they've stolen, so I can restore everything the way it ought to be. You needn't worry about him, you know, I'll Obliviate him as soon as it's clear he has nothing more of use to contribute."
Mrs. Black looked undecided, and Draco added persuasively, "I'll have Kreacher come and clean you, too, but he won't be able to do a proper job if he can't get right round to the back of the frame."
He stepped closer to the portrait, which seemed to be whispering in his ear. Harry could not make out the words, but Draco nodded as Mrs. Black spoke. Then Draco stretched up with his wand to tap the four corners of the frame, saying, "Nigellus nigellum advocat!"
The portrait dropped, and Draco barely caught it in time to ease it to the floor. "Potter. Pick this up and carry her to one of the bedrooms. I haven't the time to go over the whole house right now, aunt," he said. "You'll have to wait a bit, but at least you can have a different view in the meantime."
Harry managed to keep his mouth shut and his face blank as he hauled the portrait upstairs, ignoring Mrs. Black's taunts. He leaned the painting against a wall in the first room he came to, face-in, despite her shrieked protests, and closed the door firmly so that she would hear the click of the latch and know there was no point to continuing her yelling. Without being hung on the wall, he hoped, she should be unable to leave her own frame.
Returning downstairs, he threw his arms around Draco. "That was brilliant."
Draco put his own arms around Harry's waist. "It was, rather. What did you do with my delightful great-aunt?"
"I stowed her in one of the bedrooms. If we think it'll be useful somehow to keep up the deception, we can, you just have to blame me for putting her to face the wall. Personally I'd as soon tie the painting to one of the Weasleys' Whiz-Bangs and watch it incinerate midair, but..." he shrugged, pulling Draco closer. "I'll let the Order decide, they had to put up with her the longest. No rush though. Speaking of the Order, it must be nearly half an hour, and Professor McGonagall will doubtless have a few choice words about dilatoriness if we don't let them know it's safe to come in now."
Lupin was especially congratulatory to Harry for having gotten rid of the portrait, and Harry had to repeat several times that it was not just mostly Draco's doing, it was also his idea to begin with, before Lupin thanked the Slytherin too.
"Well, now," said Professor McGonagall, "Miss Granger, you were telling me that you wanted to try a tracing spell before attempting to Transfigure Mr. Malfoy's Mark?"
"Not a tracing spell exactly," said Hermione, leading them all toward the dining room. "I'm hoping to use the Mark to pick up Voldemort's magical resonance, so that Harry can locate anything else he might have touched – and perhaps booby-trapped."
"Oh, that's the spell you were asking about, isn't it Ron?" Tonks pulled out a chair and nearly rammed it into Draco's knees. Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and went around to sit on the other side of the table, where Harry followed him.
"Yeah," said Ron, "Hermione got Professor Flitwick to teach it to her last night. Try it, Hermione."
Hermione said, "I'll need to sit next to you, Draco. On your left side." She raised her eyebrows and Harry stood up to move to Draco's right instead.
She set what looked like a large glass ashtray on the table, explaining, "This is to capture the resonance, if I can sense it." Taking Draco's left arm, she pulled up his sleeve and exposed the Dark Mark. She held her wand over the skull and snake, her eyes closed. The wand seemed to quiver in her hand.
"No," she said at last. "I get a little bit, but it just isn't clear. It's like trying to read a piece of parchment that's been left out in the rain and the ink has run." She looked at the three adults. "There's nothing of Voldemort's at Hogwarts or the Ministry that you know of, is there?"
All three were shaking their heads when Harry remembered something.
"Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore had a ring with set a cracked black stone. He told me it had belonged to the Gaunt family, and then to Tom Riddle. Is it still around? Could Hermione try the spell on that, perhaps?"
Lips pursed, Professor McGonagall nodded. "I seem to recall seeing such a ring among Professor Dumbledore's effects."
"Could we get it today?" Harry pressed.
"So impatient, Mr. Potter?" The Headmistress's gaze was cool.
"Yes. Why not? I could summon Dobby and have him bring it – I wouldn't trust Kreacher," said Harry.
"Dobby cannot come here," Lupin pointed out. "Not with the Fidelius charm in place. Although I agree that Kreacher would be unreliable."
"I could go outside, down the street somewhere." The sooner Hermione could work the spell to capture Voldemort's magical resonance, the sooner Harry would have a better chance of finding a Horcrux. Perhaps he would go back to the Riddle house for one more effort there. But he would not explain all this to the three adults. The search for the Horcruxes was his burden, placed on him by Dumbledore.
"I could go to Hogwarts to fetch it," offered Tonks. "They don't expect me back at Headquarters until after noon."
Harry saw Professor McGonagall close her eyes briefly. "Thank you, Tonks, but I will go myself. Much simpler than trying to tell you all the places it might be. But I would prefer to wait until after this Transfiguration attempt. Miss Granger, were you going to do the honors?"
"It was Harry and Draco who came up with the spell," said Hermione. "Harry should be the one to try, if he wants."
"No, you've always been much better at Transfiguration, you should do it," said Harry. Next to him, Draco relaxed slightly. Harry felt a prickle of resentment that Draco trusted Hermione more than him for this, although he would doubtless have felt the same in Draco's place.
He reached across Draco to show Hermione how his left hand bore a threadlike letter P. "We used the spell Permutatio – remember that dot on the back of my hand? Draco changed it to this."
Hermione prodded his skin thoughtfully. "Professor? Do you think it will work?"
"I'm inclined to doubt it," said Professor McGonagall. "But I have been wrong in the past; you may as well try."
"Did you use your wand?" Hermione asked Draco, who nodded. She held hers over the Mark once again, saying, "Permutatio."
"Oh, fuck," cried Draco, grabbing Harry's arm with his other hand. "Merlin, that hurt. Sorry, Professor McGonagall."
Hermione peered down at the Mark, disappointed. "Nothing really changed, except... I think perhaps the snake's tongue was crooked the other way?"
Now Harry bent over to look. "I think you're right. Maybe. Draco?"
Draco swallowed, blinking rapidly. "Er... I'm not sure," he admitted. "I tried not to look at it very much."
"I'll try again," said Hermione briskly. "Now, pay attention this time so we can be sure if it changes. Permutatio."
A thin moan came from Draco's throat, and he squeezed Harry's arm as if it were a broom handle and he a first-year hanging on for dear life. But this time Harry was almost sure that there had been a tiny change.
"Look, there's a bit missing from the skull's nose," he said, looking to see if anything else was different.
"Well done, Miss Granger. Well done. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, you seem to have found a spell that will work, even if only marginally. Congratulations," Professor McGonagall's voice cut through Harry's examination.
"Perhaps working on a color change would help," said Hermione. "I was thinking that if the Mark could be altered from black to match Draco's skin, that would effectively remove it."
"No, it would still be there, only invisible," argued Lupin, and he, the Headmistress, and Hermione drifted into a discussion hinging on the technical aspects of this type of partial Transfiguration, Tonks listening but rarely speaking.
Ron, across the table, rolled his eyes and walked around to sit on Harry's other side. Draco let go of Harry's arm then, and Harry found himself wishing once more that Ron had not come along today.
"They'll be talking for ages," said Ron.
"Better that than Hermione trying the Transfiguration again," shuddered Draco. "I've never hurt so much."
"Not even when your arm was scratched by Buckbeak?" Harry could not resist.
Draco's look indicated clearly that he would ensure Harry paid for that remark later, but he only said, "This was much worse. If that's how much it hurts for such a small change, I think I'd almost prefer to keep the Mark. My heart will stop if we do too much of that, I'm serious."
"But at least it doesn't appear to have brought any Death Eaters down on top of us," Harry pointed out.
"Unless they're out in the street, waiting for you but thwarted by the Unplottable and Fidelius charms," said Ron cheerfully.
"Thanks, Weasley." Draco used his most sarcastic tones.
There was an uncomfortable silence among the three of them until Harry heard Hermione say to Lupin, "It looks possible, at any rate, so that's better than we might have expected."
"Headmistress," Harry broke in, "could you please bring that ring today? I don't think Draco can cope with another trial on the Mark right now, and I'd like to work on this other spell anyhow."
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Remus, can you stay here until this afternoon?"
Lupin nodded.
"I can bring everyone some lunch before I have to go," said Tonks.
"Fine. If the ring is where I remember it, I should be back within an hour," said Professor McGonagall. She rose and, nodding farewell, went out.