Chapter 7
A Deadly Meeting
Yaxley lived in what would be considered a modest house. For such an old and proper wizard, Yaxley's home was located in the middle of a small town. It was impressive, towering over all others with it's vast gated garden and high rooftops. Harry appeared in the front room of the house, stepping out of darkness. It was a cozy room nicely decorated with flowers hanging around the walls. Harry took a few steps forward before a house-elf appeared.
It bent low to Harry, its nose almost touching the floor, "Master Yaxley is expecting you," the house-elf said. It straightened up and turned around, waiting for Harry to follow him. He led Harry through a door to the right that opened into a long hallway that was filled with different portraits that held, what Harry assumed, Yaxley's ancestors. They all looked down on Harry, their nose held up as if he smelled horrible. The hallway held many different doors separating the portraits, however the house-elf led Harry towards a large white door at the end, which opened into a large sunroom. Windows made up the walls, dark green ivies growing down the wood that separated the window planes as other plants were laid around fashionably, their colors mixed together, making a splendid visual for the eyes as, outside, hedges walled around the bottom of the windowed walls and the sun's rays rained through, illuminating a white-clothed table. The table had a full tea set already placed, trays of treats stacked high, hovering over one another, a kettle already pouring tea for the one other occupant in the room. On the side, between two tall ferns, was what looked like a miniature old stove, on which a second large kettle was sitting.
Corban Yaxley sat in an elegantly crafted wooden chair. He wore a set of deep purple robes and his hair tied in a neat braid as he gave Harry an unpleasant smile through his hard features. "Potter, come in," he said, not standing to meet Harry. The house-elf bowed and stepped to the side.
Harry walked to the table, and took a seat, sitting in the only other elegantly carved wooden chair. "I hope you do not mind we have tea in my solarium, it was a good day outside and I hate to waste it."
"Um thank you…" Harry said. "The sunroom looks nice."
There was a twitch in Yaxley's eyebrow. "Indeed," he said. "This solarium has been in my family for quite some time. It was built by my great grandfather, Alastair Yaxley for his wife, Lycoris Yaxley nee Black. Most of what you have seen here is a product of her care, as well as the care of all women after her in the Yaxley line. Everything you see around is the product of tradition, a proof of the importance of lineage, and the dangers of its collapse."
"Oh..."
"The hallway you've walked through too, is proof of the importance and superiority of lineage," Yaxley continued. "Tell me Potter, do you know your family?"
"You mean my mum and dad?" Harry asked.
"No," Yaxley said shortly. "I am talking of the Potter line, a strong line of purebloods, even if they hold the wrong opinion of purity, until James Potter married the mudblood Lily, your mother. But even then, you Potters have shown many mistakes throughout your line. For example Henry Potter, who thought during his time that it was better to help muggles during their silly Great War than leave them to their devices. And before him, Abraham Potter, a disgraceful American who was one of the first Aurors. However… it was your father, James Potter, who disgraced the Potter name the most when he married the mudblood, resulting in you, Harry. Tell me, have you any idea about the great and long history that was before you? A strong lineage of Potters, famous for their own rights and mistakes, only to become diluted in the form of you…"
"No, I do not," Harry said, tightening his fists under the table.
"Shame, to think that the son of our Dark Lord knows nothing of his own lineage," Yaxley said. "Our Lord was so graceful to save your blood from dilution, and you mock it by not knowing its significance."
"There is no difference," Harry shrugged, "blood is blood."
"Blood is blood—blood is blood! Are you daft, boy?" Yaxley said, his voice turning harsh. "You, a Pureblood thanks only by the grace of our Lord—married to Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! You are placed in a great seat of superiority and privilege—and all you can think of is that the blood is meaningless!" He sat back in his seat and rolled his neck. "Tea… yes, I did invite you for tea… and you came here to apologize," he muttered to himself. He snapped his fingers and the kettle floated to Harry's empty cup, filling it. A couple small finger sandwiches also made their way onto the small oriental plate that sat next to the matching teacup. "Well Potter, where is your apology?"
Harry had forgotten all about the pretenses of why he was there. He was so wrapped around the poison that it took him a moment to remember that he was supposed to gravel in front of Yaxley for forgiveness. "For the wedding," he said, "I guess I do owe an apology." He stretched his arms over his head and took the teacup, taking a small sip. "I just wanted to get out of there," he said honestly. "However, I supposed I could have taken that a little more gracefully. You see, I just wanted to be a good submissive to my husband. Treat him right, touch him right, fulfil his ever need like a good submissive—of course, you wouldn't know anything about that Yaxley." Harry sipped his tea while Yaxley glared at him, fuming silently.
"You dare—"
"I'm sorry," Harry said, placing his cup down. "I've forgotten my place it seems. Yes I am Draco's submissive husband by marriage, I am rather submissive in general when he is around, but that only applies with my husband. To everyone else, including my father, I am hardy, stubborn, and I tend to speak my mind and do my own actions without others' approval. You may think this is horrible of me and yet I am still here, alive."
"Only because of your father's graces!" Yaxley said.
"Or, because I am more useful to my father than you or any follower can be," Harry countered. Yaxley raised his eyebrow at this.
"You? More useful than us, who have spent years of our lives devoted to him!" Yaxley said. "You are delusional, boy."
"No, no I don't think I am," Harry said, his voice growing dark and heavy. "I know that I am much more important, more useful to Voldemort alive."
Yaxley gave a small jump. Harry chuckled, "What? Even you are scared of my father's name?"
"No, I am shocked that you would show so great disrespect to our Dark Lord!" Yaxley said.
"Disrespect?" Harry questioned, "Fearing to say his name is disrespectful? News for me."
"Do you know nothing, child!"
"If I don't, maybe you should teach me," Harry said, "look at it as my groveling... teach me what I am supposed to know, and how I am supposed to act."
"Arrogant child," Yaxley muttered. "However, if it is to stop you from being an embarrassment, I will."
"Thank you, Yaxley," Harry said. "My father, our dark lord, will be nevertheless pleased to hear about this. And perhaps you can help me impress him?"
"What a sudden change in attitude," Yaxley pointed out.
"I'm just trying to act as a good submissive son," Harry said.
"Good."
"You know, my father trusts me, and yet he keeps things secret from both of us," Harry said. "I think we can help each other." He took another sip of his tea and started to eat the small finger sandwiches. They tasted awful, but he did not let his face show it. "For example, I know that my father is planning something, something to do with the Ministry, however he would never tell me." Harry said. "Particularly, it involves the Department of Mystery. Something is in there that he wants."
"Oh? And how do you know this, Potter?" Yaxley asked.
"Because when he was training me, he always talked about the Department of Mystery, and what Dumbledore was looking for," Harry said. "However it seems obvious that it is the reverse. The Dark Lord, my father, knows that something is in the Department of Mysteries and yet cannot get to it."
"Clever, or a lucky guess," Yaxley said. "I can only guess."
"Clever, Yaxley," Harry said. "I am not a person who'll pretend to know more than he does. Why do you think I asked you for information?"
"Because you are desperate, so desperate, to get back into your fathers' good graces," Yaxley said.
"Or maybe you are trying to get into his better graces—but no, I am doing this only because the Dark Lord asked me to," Harry said. "I am an obedient son, after all." He took another sip and finished his first cup.
"That remains to be seen," Yaxley said. Harry resisted to roll his eyes as the old man still kept his charade up. I hate people who believe they're smarter than they are, he thought to himself, it makes them so annoying. He gave a sigh and shook his head. "My cup is empty," he mentioned.
"Shame," Yaxley muttered. "Then refill it." Harry reached for the kettle and poured more tea.
"I'm curious, what do you know about my father?" he asked, "What made you join with him?"
"Lineage," Yaxley said, leaning back in his chair. "The Dark Lord represents a return to tradition and superiority that both our culture and Ministry have forgotten. We are cursed by filthy mudbloods and disgusting half-breeds. Werewolves, half-bloods, disgusting creatures who have no right in the wizarding worlds."
"I am a half-blood," Harry said.
"No, you are not, you are a pureblood thanks to the graces of our lord, or have you forgotten?" Yaxley said. "We must return to our greatness, to our purity. It is what best for Wizarding kind. The Half-bloods can stay, as long as they do what you have done and renounce their muggle half, while mudbloods must be dealt with. This was a belief that I grew up, that all Sacred Families grew with, and so it must become the truth. The Dark Lord understood that, he knew the future of the wizarding world, and how pure it must be. We will return to our traditions, return to what made our kind great and powerful, and so we will bring in a new age of perfectionism!" He looked passionate, his fist held high as he spoke, as though grasping for the heavens. Harry drank his entire cup before putting it back onto the plate rather loudly.
"So it is because of this that brought you to my father?" he asked. "When?"
"I was young and just graduated from Hogwarts," Yaxley said, "the Dark Lord was just starting to rise, and I was young and influential, and the Dark Lord took me in, raised me up to becoming who I am today. We laid low for a few years; his followers grew. We were all branded with our Mark," Yaxley pulled up his robe sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on his inner forearm, "and I never was so proud. The Nineteen-Seventies came, and we began our war for posterity. We were at a height of power. All Dark witches and wizards, all creatures banded together under your father, our Dark Lord. We've killed muggles, mudbloods, and left our mark. Eleven years of fighting, until, of course, he vanished for a time."
"And you did not look for him," Harry interrupted. "You, like Draco's father, denied to ever work for him. With Mr. Malfoy, it would make sense, he was very important, and he had Draco to worry about. But you? Why did you deny my father when he disappeared?"
Yaxley went silent. "I figured that I would be more useful... for our Lord... if I remained outside of prison cells," he said after a long tense moment, which he filled by drinking from his teacup and refilling it twice.
"So you used your money to make sure that you were seen as innocent," Harry concluded. "A shame Yaxley, to think that one of my father's oldest follower would be a coward." He reached for the kettle and filled his cup, "Empty," he frowned.
Yaxley started to stand, but Harry shook his head, "I'll refill it," he said, "It is a what a good son and spouse would do."
"Umm yes, of course," Yaxley said, clearing his throat.
"Speaking of, Draco told me that you ran into him while he went shopping," Harry said conversationally. He moved to the stovetop and saw that the water inside was charmed hot. He glanced back at Yaxley, who was watching him. "He said that you thought he was suspicious."
"After what happened at your ceremony, of course I did," Yaxley said. "Both of you have insulted the Dark Lord. And he was buying venom, not to mention other nefarious potion ingredients."
"Oh those," Harry chuckles, "Like my husband told you, they were for me. My body feels so good now," he gave a little moan. "If I was the sharing type, I would show you my pretty boy pussy—but I'm afraid that both my Daddy and Father would disapprove of that."
"You insolent child!" Yaxley yelled. Harry turned and chuckled to himself as Yaxley went on a rant of how horrible he was acting. Harry was able to slip his potion and filled the teapot with it, mimicking as though he was moving water from the kettle to the teapot. "I'm sorry, but it was your fault for being so nosy in my husband's business," he said as he returned. "Besides, all of this is necessary if we are to continue not only the Malfoy line, but the Potter and my father's lines as well."
"Then why must you phrase it so vulgarly you child?" Yaxley demanded. "I must talk with your father about your perverse behavior."
"Of course," Harry said. He filled Yaxley's cup as well as his own. Placing the teapot back onto it's platter, Harry sat down and lifted up his cup. "However, I would rather you did not, we want my future pregnancy to be a surprise. Besides, you did not share with me what it is my father is looking for."
"A weapon, however, from what I hear it is more than that," Yaxley said. "He is looking for something specific in the Department of Mysteries; a prophecy that ties you and him together."
Harry's eyes widened. Yaxley smirked at Harry's bewilderment. "Shocked silence I see," he chuckled. "You should consider being silence more often, you are much more agreeable that way." Chuckling to himself, Yaxley drank his cup.
Harry quickly composed himself. "A prophecy about me and Voldemort," he muttered to himself. "That is what he's looking for." Harry placed his cup down and had another finger sandwich. He looked at Yaxley and smiled, "This was rather informative," he said, "thank you very much Yaxley." He stood up and gave a short bow. "I am sorry for all my misbehaviors, and I hope moving forward, that we work together towards our goals."
"Yes, of course," Yaxley said, giving a short chuckle. "It is nice to see that you can be properly whipped into shape, Potter." He stood up and stepped around the table. Yaxley took Harry's hand and squeezed it hard, "Who knew that you could be such a good traditional spouse," he chuckled.
A dark look glinted in Harry's eyes. "Of course," he said, "I always do what I need to do to protect my interests." He let go of Yaxley and turned around, "Draco, my family, my friends... I would do anything and everything to protect them," he said, as he left. "Even if it requires me taking down my father and taking the title of Dark Lord myself. In fact, you can tell him that yourself, if you like." He stopped at the doorway and turned with a cold smile, as he felt rather full of himself and cocky, "I'll be telling him as well, but my own lovely version of it. Which one do you think he'll believe more? The old follower, or his son and horcrux?"
A/N: Getting a bit cocky there, huh Harry? I hope it all works out for you. Please review and thank you for reading.
