A/N: This story is approaching one thousand alerts, which I feel to be a pretty decent readership for a crossover-so, thanks to everyone who had read and extra special thanks to those who have reviewed!

To Ride Upon Svadilfari

-Chapter Thirty-Seven-

What Lies Beneath the Photosphere

(Above)

Harry released Loki, who smoothed down his armor in much the same way that a cat would see to its fur after being manhandled, with an affronted dignity that had an edge of feline 'I allowed you to do that'. "I thought you had less of a temper," Loki commented with deliberate offhandedness.

Harry couldn't help but snort at that, recalling briefly the cattle that hadn't much resembled ever having been living flesh at all when he had finished. But he was also sharply reminded that while he'd been rather free with his strength and emotions while training with Thor, not all things were so durable. "This isn't temper. Nothing is bleeding yet," he quipped, some of the shame taken out of that night by self-mockery. "When was the last time you met a dragon known for his self-control?"

"Thinking of yourself as a dragon," Loki said thoughtfully, only the way he briefly paused revealing actual interest rather than another few moments wasted in talk, "that's new as well."

Though Hermione was skeptical of the philosophy that sometimes giving trust was the quickest route to eliciting trustworthy actions, but he'd now had a chance to observe Loki when he wasn't two or three bad decisions away from conquering the planet. He was hungry for trust, though he had an almost compulsive need to betray it, as if he was so accustomed to proving everyone right and took a certain twisted satisfaction from it. It had by turns evoked understand, compassion, and then settled firmly on irritation. So he would freely volunteer information and deal with the consequences when they arose. Loki would make a far better ally than an enemy, but if only they could come to a point where they could trust him wholeheartedly. Better at times to have a certain enemy than an uncertain friend.

But if Loki wanted confession, he could hear it as they tracked ."When your home world declares you dead and Hermione decides that means you can never go home because it's unfair to the people who've moved on in their lives, you have to make do with what you are, rather than what you were. And all I am, I owe to my enemies. A monster made me the man I was. A man made me the monster I am. All that is left is for me to decide what I am to become. And The Dragon is a part of that. But you won't distract me from Amora by deflecting." Harry turned to continue his pursuit before he wasted any more time with Loki. All his senses were enhanced by The Dragon, but dragons were not bloodhounds. They were primarily visual predators, much like falcons or hawks, which was also why their eyes were an important point of vulnerability.

"'Hermione decides'," Loki mocked lightly. "You really have made peace with her after all. I was beginning to miss the feeling of having her opinion in the room even when she was elsewhere." He fell silent for a moment, but Harry heard no chance of pace in his boots against the floor to suggest an attack. "Would you really have used this potion of yours?" Loki asked more quietly.

Harry squelched the urge to heave a long-suffering sigh and contented himself with tapping his clawed thumb and middle and third finger together impatiently. "No," Harry answered shortly."But you have this moronic mindset that makes you incapable of taking seriously anyone who you don't think capable of cruelty. Which is why it never even occurred to you to suspect your mother, even though she's the one who taught you all your tricks."

"You seem determined to surprise this eve. You're a more cunning liar than I thought as well."

"I shall not tell lies," Harry replied. "I would have regretted it or rethought it, but in that instant, it wasn't a lie."

Loki was silent a long moment. "What made you suspect Amora?"

"Because she didn't approach Thor openly."

"Being secretive automatically equates to some ploy?"

"When a woman looks like Amora, it does," Harry muttered.

"Experience speaking?" Loki taunted.

"Yes," Harry said curtly as he tried to recall how the corridors joined up and where they led. Without knowing the exact nature of what Amora wanted from Thor, he couldn't guess where she would take him. If her object was discovery, that would be one destination, further privacy another. "I did this professionally, you know."

And he had been Harry Potter, the closest thing to a Christ-figure that many of the magical population would ever acknowledge. Despite his marriage and his well-known fidelity to his Marriage Vow and Ginny, there had been those who couldn't help but try. Most were harmless, but a select few had been truly dangerous, combining intense natural beauty with their Potions mastery in order to leave their chosen little more than broken toys that lived only to please. There was so little ugliness in Asgard, so very few human flaws, that her appearance alone hadn't been enough to trigger suspicion. Hermione had observed, very dryly, that she was the plainest woman in the city.

"Many women make use of their sexuality as another kind of weapon-like you tried to do to me, what with your female form. Men can as well, of course, but most of them prefer outright power over subtle manipulation. They have a certain look about them. A certain way they stand, even in the way they speak." Without even a gesture, he cast a muffling charm about them.

"Take Hermione. Crisp, quick, well-enunciated. She makes you pay attention to what she says, rather than how she says it. With Amora, tone takes precedence. No matter how inane the subject, she demands you listen-she speaks slightly slower, keeps her voice low, never reveals the barb in the honey. That's how Amora spoke to Thor."

"You could hear them?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder to give Loki the full impact of his slitted eyes, the translucent inner lid turning green cloudy for a moment.

"Right. Dragon. And that's all it took?"

It was impossible to explain in words what could only be attributed to instinct, honed both by draconic senses and years of training. So he turned the question back on Loki. "If you knew, why didn't you do anything?"

"She wants to sleep with him, not assassinate him," Loki replied sourly. "And if he is so weak in his attachment to Jane as to be tempted or so foolish as to think that he can combat her kind of magic with brute strength, he has earned what he shall receive." There was something indubitably childish about his tone.

"If you do not want to help, then return to the feast," Harry snapped.

"And what is your plan of action?" Loki asked. "Go in, pull Thor from atop her?"

"Stop Thor from getting atop her, if you'd shut up and help."

"Thor isn't a child, you realize. He is capable of making his own decisions, bad as they might be. And he will not appreciate interference."

"She sounds like magic," Harry growled. "Enough to set my teeth on edge. She is coercion made flesh. And no one who doesn't have magic of their own should be expected to make sound decisions under the weight of that. If she wants to chase a disinherited prince because she likes his looks, she'll do it without magic. And if she's pursuing him because she thinks Odin will relent and she'll one day be a queen, well, that's her prerogative as well. I'll admit the speed of Thor and Jane's romance baffles me, presaging an equally quick and violent parting. But it'll be because Thor is an idiot, not for any other reason."

"And if Thor does decide to give over Jane for a golden temptress? Will you comfort poor Jane's heart?"

Harry barked a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I may be dead in my world, but the memory of my marriage hasn't left me. And aside from that, do you know part of the reason why Ginny was so wonderful? Why Ron, for all his faults, was the best person for Hermione? Because Ron was our friend before he was Hermione's husband and Ginny grew up watching us, knowing that I'd still be Hermione's friend even after I gave her a Vow and a ring. That was difficult enough-you want me to ask a woman to love me, ask her to overlook the parts that aren't human, when there will never be a time when Hermione isn't the one closest to the dragon's heart? When there is an entire world that Hermione and I experienced together, fought in together, loved and lost together, that I will never be able to share?"

He laughed again, a sound with less bitterness than he expected. "Is there a point to your needling, Loki? Or can you not help yourself?"

"Just learning the lay of the land, as it were. You'll want to take the door to the right ahead."

He followed Loki's instructions until they come before the last door-he paused before it and listened, ignoring the shifting of cloth and leather and a fluttering heartbeat that is all that Loki was reduced to when he closed his eyes so that he can concentrate. Harry was vaguely aware that since he'd glimpsed Amora, the more human bits had been receding, leaving him with only the facade of Harry Potter and a dragon that couldn't be moved by a woman who had neither the scent nor breeding cry of a female dragon nor the intoxicating, inescapable music of his hoard or those things that had power, beauty and glitter enough to rouse him to a fever pitch of want that overwhelmed scruple.

"The door is warded and locked," Loki murmured unnecessarily. "Are you certain this is wise? Amora won't thank you for the interruption and if you do not fear her, consider the fact that she does have men who will gladly avenge the blow to her pride."

"Let them try," Harry replied, unsheathing his wand and breaking the ward, which wouldn't have kept out any but the most incompetent of Curse Breakers, the lock a laughable afterthought. But Harry wasn't in the mood for mirth as he slipped his wand away and entered the room, Thor blinking at him with a singularly bovine stupidity from where he sat on the bed, Amora on his lap and twined about his upper body.

"Off," he commanded her, like she was an unruly dog. Amora merely glanced at him. Her lips were already near Thor's ear, but she pressed them closer, presumably in the belief that he would not hear her coaxing to rid them of the interruption.

"Harry-" Thor began without rising, but Harry made a sharp gesture with his hand.

"No," Harry snarled. "Words won't be enough to begin to convince me that your honor is so easily put aside. You might have sworn no formal oaths, giving no real promises, but this is the same as a lie. And Thor, god of thunder, is no god of lies. Break her hold on you, or I will break it for you," he promised, the words a deep rumble forced up from his chest.

Amora arched one golden brow. Untangling her hands from Thor's hair, she stood and slinked toward Harry, her narrow hand coming up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing over the scales near his eyes. "Aren't you an exotic one," she murmured. Her other hand went around his neck, tugging the tie from his hair and spilling it forward over his shoulders. "I am devoted to Thor, but perhaps I can find a little warmth in my heart for his friends," she said.

Harry only stared down at her as the compulsion spilled over him and tried to breach his mind. But it was all scales and fangs and fire and there was no room in it for the slavish tenderness she tried to inspire. Her eyes widened minutely, perhaps in astonishment, perhaps in horror, and her hands fell to her sides and she stepped back.

"Amora?" Thor asked.

"He's a monster," Amora hissed. "There's no human heart in there at all."

Harry's grin was more baring of teeth than any pleasant feeling. "None that you can reach with magic, no." Quicker than even her æsir reflexes, his hand was encircling her throat, forcing her onto her toes to prevent her own weight from choking her.

Thor was on his feet in an instant. "What are you doing?" he shouted, charging toward them recklessly.

"I'd heard that love makes fools out of everyone, but don't you think this is a little much?" Harry asked as he flung Amora bodily into Thor, who instinctively protected her from the impact. "Let him go, Amora. Or I'll reconsider not making a spectacle of you both."

Amora pretended confusion. "I don't know what you mean," she said, voice shaky in the way it never was in true duress, too prettily expressed to be the product of real fear. "Thor, I thought you said your friend was more man than dragon."

Thor's blue eyes, normally so expressive and almost childlike, were hard as he looked at Harry. "That is what I thought. Why are you doing this?" he challenged.

"I'll answer that question when you tell me what you're doing here, rather than at the table," Harry replied. "Tell me why you're here, with her, when a week ago you'd never have considered this."

"A man's heart can change," Amora protested.

"Not so quickly without aid of a less than wholesome type. If you'd seduced him honestly, we wouldn't be having this discussion. Release him from whatever compulsion magic you're using. And if he still chooses you, then what you're doing here is your business, regardless of what I think about it. But right now, all I see before me is a friend entrapped as surely as if you'd clapped in shackles. More surely, actually. Although I didn't realize he had such a low tolerance for magic."

"We all have our weaknesses," Loki murmured.

"Release him?" Amora asked. "How do you release someone from love?"

"Generally marriage seems to cure it well enough," Loki commented and Amora's eyes lit up at the suggestion. But then her glance turned calculating.

"The god of chaos allying himself with a dragon-dark days are ahead for Asgard indeed if the Allfather is allowing this right under his very nose."

"He is allowing you to attempt to fornicate with his golden son, so I think you should be grateful for all that he overlooks. Do not believe that just because he is not present that Odin isn't aware of what transpires-that was a lesson I learned all too well. And she might well be speaking the truth, Harry. Some kinds of compulsion cannot be cured, only allowed to fade."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So we must separate them and keep Thor in check? How long?"

"If he is not cured by the time Odin returns from his hunt, I say we slaughter the sorceress-that's the more obvious way to break the compulsion."

With a hoarse shout, Thor launched himself toward Loki and even Harry, who wasn't blinded by rage, barely caught the moment when Loki stepped backward, leaving only a doppelganger shell to face Thor's might. "So something about the sorceress," Harry snarled as he grappled with the god, who was built on heavier lines but not the stronger for it.

Loki raised a brow. "And what of Mjolnir?"

"Now!" Harry roared, patience snapping as he threw Thor back few steps, wrists and elbows and shoulders aching from the strain. Dragon or not, when it came to sheer strength, he was almost overmatched by the æsir. But like most strong compulsion magic with the exception of Imperius, which was most dangerous for how difficult it was to detect at work, this one had made him less than he was, his mind clouded and his tactics obvious. Harry wasn't trying to outmatch the god of thunder, he was facing down something with Thor's strength and power but little strategy to back it. Though, admittedly, he thought when he had a moment's space, Thor was known for many things, but not his for his cleverness.

The thought cost him, Thor catching him in the gut with his shoulder and putting them both through the wall. Harry retched, the dust from the stone irritating eyes and lungs, but he whispered a spell and Thor was blasted backward with concussive force that would have killed a human. He only snarled at Harry, one hand thrust out imperiously, Mjolnir leaving a gaping wounds in the palace walls as it responded obediently to his call.

Spreading his wings, Harry lunged, pinning Thor's arms awkwardly as he used all his strength and speed to relocate the battle, a sick feeling welling in the pit of his stomach at the glimpse he'd caught of the stranger clutching a shattered arm, earned only through being in Mjolnir's path.

Sloppy, he thought with disgust. Seeing a skylight, the floor below clear, Harry crashed through it, ignoring the faint sting of glass cutting skin, his flight faster now that he was clear of the walls that had trapped them. Thor finally wrested himself free as they came above the ocean, the sprawl of Asgard having limited Harry's options for minimizing damage. He didn't fall far, the hammer sending him rocketing upward toward Harry, who bit out an incantation of binding.

Thor's momentum didn't slow as the conjured chains attempted to follow their directive. The links had shattered like the metal had been frozen before he'd even reached Harry, who used his greater dexterity in flight to avoid a blow that would have done real damage.

"The woman who loves you was at your side!" Harry roared. "Magic or no magic, you're a fool!" It had taken a divide of dimensions to part him from Ginny, yet here was Thor, so easily led astray by spells and a pretty face. It was beyond infuriating, but he'd planned to disguise this battle as a drunken brawl if things came to violence. Whether he was prince or not, the æsir wouldn't forgive a dragon they were only just beginning to accept in their midst attacking their favorite in his more bestial form.

So he controlled his rage, adroitly outmaneuvering Thor. Subsequent attempts to bind him proved the evidence of the first-there wasn't a spell in Harry's arsenal that could overcome Thor's physical strength without the use of his wand. But neither did he want to bind him so tightly that Thor was the bird that beat itself to death on the bars of his cage. To construct a prison to hold a being that was essentially a god, he needed time to prepare, and that was something in short supply.

But he had ample magical strength and the will to do it, which he hoped would be an even exchange. There were other, less acceptable spells that could do mentally what he hadn't achieved physically, but layering them over Amora's compulsion might break something irreparable. And, so far as Harry was concerned, they were almost as cruel as Imperius.

Folding his wings around him like they were a cocoon, Harry allowed gravity to do its work, tugging him down toward the water, the leathery skin stretched between the bones concealing the movement of his wand. Not that Thor would have known the spell to have deflected it, but regardless, Harry worked with grim intent and he couldn't risk that Thor would disrupt him through more mundane means.

Just as the incantation rolled from his tongue, Thor thrust his hammer toward the sky and lighting crackled downward, redoubling as its branching limbs surged through the water. Harry shrieked, the fierce, vengeful cry of a dragon as the main bolt struck him, the burning only increased as he impacted the electrified water below, the lightning having not yet dispersed. Water filled his mouth and nostrils, but even as his vision hazed, vast tentacles of water surged upward, the ocean roaring as if he'd gifted it with sentience of a giant kraken as well as the form.

Though he could feel the damage the lightning had done to his heart, Harry poured magic into his construct, struggling to make his wings move, to return to the surface. The kraken was rising from the ocean, its water-formed limbs reforming as Thor struggled to destroy them, pulling him downward into its 'stomach', the prison he'd built with magic to contain Thor's strength. But if Harry died, it would all be for naught-without the Elder Wand, not even he had a great enough capacity for magic to turn the construct into a self-sustaining system.

As his thoughts grew more sluggish, as if the water was invading his brain as it flooded his lungs, Harry prepared to rise from the water as a dragon, regardless of consequence. But then some large, dark shape impacted the water and scaled coils closed around Harry, who was dragged speedily toward the surface. Something was keening. It took a moment for Harry, busy vomiting water, to connect it to the immense serpentine creature would was ascending upward in languid spirals.

He blinked, though there was no longer water clouding his eyes. It took even longer for him to match the coloration of the massive sea serpent with Loki. He hadn't known that the æsir's shapeshifting lent him such forms. And a moment more yet to realize that Loki had willingly saved him. The only question that remained was why. Unfortunately, with Loki, motivation was the most daunting question of all.

A/N: I'm afraid we won't see another Loki POV again until we're in Helheim-not worth puzzling out a plausible 'bag of cats' as it were when nothing much on a grand scale is occurring. Fortunately, this arc ends in one more chapter or so. And there we've a merry jaunt among the dead and a return of the Hermione/Harry dynamic.