TO TOPPLE THE PILLARS OF HEAVEN

AUTHOR: LORD-MHORAM

AUTHOR EMAIL: Kheldon71@cox-internet.com

CATEGORY: HARRY POTTER FANFIC: ROMANCE, ANGST, SLASH

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

Chapter Two

Morning Came Too Soon

I woke up before morning light. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was, or even who I was. Total discontinuity. I lay in a huge bed, with a warm, attractive person next to me. His arms were around my waist. On inspection, I noted that these arms belonged to Harry. Harry, whom I loved. How wretched I felt. My head was blocked up from…crying. I had cried in front of Harry. What would he think? It hadn't been a dramatic tear tracing bravely down my cheek. Not a stalwart quiver of my chin. I was rather certain I puled until I got the hiccups. Hiccups. I shook so hard I spilled the glass of water he'd brought me. Not that he stayed dry anyway. My incessant weeping ensured he stayed damp. Merlin help me, I think there was snot. No wonder my family avoids…avoided open displays of grief. It was all self-preservation from swollen eyes, a ragged head, and a naked feeling that was not at all sensual. Father would have been so displeased with my lack of control, if he hadn't been so busy being dead. Father and Mother were dead. I moaned as the memory of the worst shock of my life tore into my waking mind. "Hey Drake. Hush, I'm here. Sleep." It was good advice, Harry. I wanted to escape. I didn't want to know what this meant anymore. I wanted to die, and here, in the arms of the only person alive who loved me,was a good place. I wrapped my arms around Harry's thin neck, the solace of his body around me, and fell back into tormented sleep.

He had cried himself out, dead out, only to wake up again, in some half-conscious state, muttering and thrashing. Each time I pulled him back to me and each time he settled. The contact of our skin seemed to reassure him. Incredible. A Malfoy needing reassurance. But that was unfair. A major part of his world had just disintegrated. He made a hoarse noise, painful to hear, that started to scale upwards into a keen, similar to sounds he had made in his really bad moments during the night. I reckon it scared me. I've seen him hurt, and sick, and mending up, but he had never been like this before. Maybe the most terrifying part of the whole business was the way he was letting me hold him, rock him, and comfort him. Not even during sex does Draco Malfoy fully surrender. I sighed and resolved that everything would eventually work itself out. Darkness slipped into the room as the storm renewed itself. Draco's tears trickled down my chest. I kissed his forehead and told him to sleep. He didn't argue.

When Harry awoke, it was well into mid-morning. Draco remained curled within his arms, which were completely numb. Harry's bladder, however, was not only not numb, it was sending him painfully desperate signals. Harry decided the last item had to be resolved before wetness of another kind entirely descended upon them. Gingerly disengaging his deadened limbs from Draco's weight, he rolled out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom. After relieving himself as quietly as he could, he stepped back into the room. His lover had sprawled out in a decidedly undignified manner. In other circumstances, Harry would have leapt on the bed and furiously tickled the Slytherin's nobility away from him. Draco never exactly giggled, but at least he would laugh. As he thought of that rare, bright laughter, Harry's heart sank. How much time would pass before Draco laughed again? "Hey," he called softly to see if the young man was awake. No reply came.

Crossing the bedroom, Harry went to the kitchen and prepared a small breakfast. After finishing his sausages and toast he quietly gathered clothes for the day and went to the shower on the opposite end of the house. Though small, the bathroom held a beautiful antique shower-tub, enchanted to provide hours of hot, lightly fragranced water. Harry stripped and hopped into the tub, relishing the steam bringing life back into his body. He was so intent on his ablution he failed to hear the door open and soft footsteps approach.

"Harry?" said Draco, startling the Gryffindor. Harry jumped straight up, sending soap and shampoo bottles flying. Ignoring his boyfriend's mild discomfiture, Draco glared angrily as he climbed into the shower.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

"I just went to fix breakfast."

"I don't care. Wake me up next time!"

Harry put his hand out and pulled Draco closer. Steamy water cascaded over them, making Harry squint even harder to make eye contact. Putting his face nose-to-nose with the Slytherin's, Harry said firmly, "I won't leave you, not in this life, not in the next. But I reserve the right to get up and make breakfast without your permission anytime, right then?"

Draco's glare ratcheted down. "Right," he grumbled, and started to get out of the tub. Harry tightened his grip and pulled him back around, kissing his pale lips, reassuring him.

Harry's hands moved downward and started to pull off Draco's sodden underwear when Draco stopped him. "Harry, please don't, I don't really want to do anything very sexual at the moment. Honestly, I'm not sure I could." Harry nodded in assent. "It's fine, Drake, but as long you're soaked, you should at least let me scrub you." The ghost of a smile passed across Draco's face.

"Well, then, get to it."

Harry pulled Draco's underwear down and tossed them into a wet heap on the floor. He opened a bottle of emollient bodywash and poured it into his hands. He worked the foamy mixture, which smelled of almonds and cherry, into Draco's fine skin.

Draco, making a face, turned around and said, "That's yours isn't it? It'll clash with my shampoo."

"You can use mine today."

"Aiih! You want me to use what you use? Tangle 'o Plenty? Oh, all right," groused Draco.

Dried, dressed, and anxious, they waited for Professor McGonagall. Draco paced; Harry remained mostly quiet. He knew well how silence could be a friend to a person under stress. On what seemed to be Draco's thousandth circuit of the sitting room, a sharp rapping came at the front door. Harry flung the door wide and peered around, only to have a sharp shove send him flying backwards. A myriad of colors began to take form in the open doorway. The rainbow gained coherence and coalesced into the form of a great eagle. Landroval, the last emissary of House Malfoy had arrived.

"What is it?" asked Harry, picking himself up and rubbing his sore bottom.

"He's an ambassador of sorts. He's from…my father."

Draco approached the large bird and bowed briefly. The bird cocked its head at him and stretched out its leg. Kneeling down, Draco undid the binding charms and released the small pouch. Upon its opening, a ring and a crystal fell out. Draco's shoulder's bowed. "They're really gone," he sighed. His fingers clutched the crystal so tightly Harry was sure it would be powdered. Draco mastered himself slowly. Turning to Harry, he said, "It's a See-Me; it records whatever you want to communicate."

"I should give you privacy," said Harry. He turned to go, but Draco held his arm. "No," he said. "Fiat nox," Draco commanded, plunging the room into darkness. Placing the crystal onto the table, he tapped it with his wand, summoning the image of Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco. Your mother and I will be dead by the time you receive this. Do not grieve. This is our choice. We have chosen to die with the honor befitting our rank. I wish I could explain further, but there is no time. The time I thought I would have is far spent. Listen closely, as your survival depends on your understanding me. In my years as a procurator of Dark Objects for Lord Voldemort, there has been one item in particular I have sought. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you a great deal about this object; your mother has utilized an effective memory-obliterating charm on me, in case our plans fail and we are taken. I can tell you, however, that the object is the Crown. I found it in our old home, Draco, and I used it, for it belongs to us. I did many things with it. I saw the Dark Lord's true intent. I saw his mind. He is not what he seems, not even that! He will fill the world with slaves. It was never his intention to return to the House System. There will be no rewards for loyal service. There will be slavery, Draco for all, Mud-Blood, HighBorn, all will serve the Dark Lord equally. I have not devoted my life for such equality; I will not be united with the Muggles in abject servitude. No Malfoy has ever suffered such and none will! When the Dark Lord finally discerned that I had obtained such a useful trinket, he demanded it. To assist me in my decision to give up the Crown, he cast Tempus Fugit Mortalis on your mother and me. The course of our lives is now only a few hours."

Lucius' image turned restlessly. "It was a useless action. I had already sent the object, in pieces, far away. The power of the artifact has remained with me, to a degree, such that not even he could resist me when I forcibly Disapparated him. I've reinforced the house protection charms, but soon the Death Eaters will break through the Apparation shields, and I will be unable to prevent them. However, I have sent items to Albus Dumbledore for you and for safekeeping. Make your way to Dumbledore as soon as you can. Find the Crown, Draco. Do with it as you will, but destroy Voldemort. If he gains the Crown, the world will sink beneath oceans of blood. I never intended such." Lucius paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. His expression went distant as he strained to remember the images that eluded him. "Draco. The Crown belongs to the Old House, and can be found there. Our light once shone above all others, on the Pillars, Draco." Lucius came to himself and resumed in an almost normal tone. "Son, your mother and I honor you and your life. The signet of our Line we give you. Farewell."

The image faded. Draco sat on the sofa, spine straight, impassive. He might have been hewn from unfeeling stone, save for the emotion welling in his eyes. He placed his father's ring on his finger; the adjusting charms altering its size. Harry was wiser by far than to attempt to touch his lover at the moment. They both continued to sit. Harry lent what support he could by his presence alone. Finally Draco leaned over and curled up, laying his head in Harry's lap. Harry stroked the long silver hair. The long day wore on. They kept their places, until Harry roused the Slytherin for evening meal, which might as well have been in a sepulchre. The noise of utensils seemed unbearable. In the middle of the silence, Draco mumbled, "I have no bloody clue. I don't know what in the deepest hells he was talking about."

Bedtime arrived, with no sign of McGonagall. Wordlessly they undressed for bed. Harry had rolled under the covers when Draco briefly, fiercely kissed him. "Thank you," he told the nonplussed Harry. "Sure….for what?" "For letting me alone today," replied Draco softly. Harry said nothing, but took Draco's hand. With uncharacteristic shyness, Draco turned and held him, while tucking his head underneath Harry's. The day of inactivity had tired Harry, and sleep came rapidly. But for Draco, the hours passed long before he drifted away.

Bright sunlight greeted Harry as he cracked his eyelids to the new day. The storm had ended; blue sky returned with a vengeance. The radiance streaming in through the huge French windows seemed to be trying to allay the recent trauma. Harry turned and looked at Draco, whose head was inclined toward him. With his sensual lips slightly parted, Draco presented an almost overwhelming invitation for a kiss. Harry moved closer, his face nearly on the Slytherin's, when he turned away. "Pretty low to snog someone without permission, when they're defenseless," thought Harry.

As if those thoughts had passed between them, Draco said sleepily, "Am I ugly in the morning, Potter?" "Uh, no, it's just that with all that's happened, I thought--" "You thought it'd be dishonorable to take advantage of me. Let me judge that. So come on, Potter. Take advantage of me." Draco's eyes were still shut, but he had pulled the covers back, revealing his naked body. Harry dropped his head to Draco's face and kissed the parted lips. Just a glancing suggestion of contact passed, while Draco's hands stroked Harry's back. The tip of Harry's tongue arced into the blond man's mouth, touching, teasing, and seeking. Draco tensed; strong hands pulled Harry up to meet the gray gaze.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, Harry. I don't feel like myself. I just feel…shifted out of place. I don't have a place anymore."

"Yes, you do," said Harry. "You're Draco Malfoy. Nothing can change that."

"What does it matter, Harry?"

"It matters to me. You're the man I want with me forever."

"Are you sure? How can you know that?"

Consternation filled Harry's voice. "I know what I know, Draco. I know what I feel, what I think, and what I want."

"How can you? You're nineteen. I'm the only person you've had sex with. I'm the only significant relationship you've had. How can you think you've found the right person? How do you know that what you think is love isn't just a passing fondness for shagging me?"

Harry, rigid with fury, pushed away from Draco, but kept his voice measured and steady. "Less than two days ago you said you wanted to be with me forever. You told me not to break your heart. Now, you're asking me asinine, sophomoric questions about how I know I'm right about what I say and what I feel. Well, if you're asking me this because you're unsure about me, I can reassure you. If you're asking because you're upset over your mum and dad, I can accept that. But if you're asking me this as some sort of weird "I need my space" thing, then you can kindly go fuck yourself!" Harry tore out of the bed and stormed from the room. Draco lay there, stunned by Harry's reaction, but more horrified by his own actions. "Truly a fool, Malfoy," he thought, and for the second time in as many days, tears fell down his cheeks.

After dressing, Harry grabbed an apple and went outside. The recent rain had cooled the breeze that tugged at Harry's sleeves. His explosion at Draco ran through his mind. He wandered aimlessly through the garden until he came to one of the huge trees bordering his godfather's property. An impish inspiration suddenly occurred to him. Harry laid his apple down and began to climb the lower tree limbs, his nimble body well adapted to balancing. Years of Quidditch had mostly eradicated any fear of heights he might have had. After calling "accio apple," Harry ate breakfast cradled high above the ground. The gentle swaying of the huge branch relaxed his body, letting him sink into his thoughts. They alternated between anger, fear and guilt; anger, that Draco questioned his love; fear, that perhaps Draco was trying to extricate himself from their relationship, and guilt, for being volatile with a person who had suffered a terrible loss so recently. He had come to no conclusions when a pebble broadsided his rear end. Draco was standing below, looking as innocent as he could.

"Won't you come down and see me, little bird?" he called, leaning against the tree.

"Bugger off," replied Harry, punctuating the refusal by bouncing his apple core off Draco's head.

"Fuck me! Oww! Harry, quit being a bastard!"

"You need to think about what you say, Draco! We're not eleven anymore! Why don't you take responsibility for what you say?"

"You're right. I apologize."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. Making his way down from his perch, he sighed, knowing he had been too harsh. He made the final hop to the ground and stood to face the blond Slytherin.

"Harry, I wanted to tell you…look, I'm afraid, afraid that someday you'll realize you could have done better for yourself. I'm afraid I won't fit in your pretty world. You could have a good person, you know, one that doesn't have to run off to slay the monster. You deserve a normal person who has sane emotions. I don't know what to tell you."

"Humility from you. I fucking doubt it. You're trying to pull a runner, Malfoy. Shit. I trusted you!"

Harry sat down and turned his back to Draco. He plucked at grass, nodding his head as if to himself, trying to keep the angry tears from falling. Draco knelt and took him in his arms, only to be jabbed with sharp elbows. "Get off me, damn it! Don't try to make it fucking right!" shouted Harry, his anger winning out briefly.

"No, Harry, I won't quit. I want you to forgive me for being stupid."

Harry quit struggling and slumped back against Draco. "What would that matter? I tell you I love you, and I want you, and I believe every piece of trite, sentimental crap that I've dreamed about my whole fucking life. In that damned cupboard I dreamed about it! And you demolish it. Because for about half a second, I thought, 'how do I know I'm right?' You know what my answer is, Drake? I don't know. But I'm willing to be wrong, if it means being with you. It's trite; it's sentimental, and it's all I've got in the whole fucking world."

Draco turned Harry around to face him. The wind was wreaking havoc with Harry's already lost-cause hair, and the sight of it, the simple sight of Harry's face half-caught in the light filled Draco with a shivery feeling that was love, or madness, or both. "I love you, Harry. I've wanted to tell you, but…well, I couldn't." He sighed and shook his head. "I was afraid I'd lose you if I said it aloud, but I never told my parents, and they're gone. We had a saying in my family: 'Hide love away, for if the jealous Gods see it, they will kill it.' I guess I've hidden it too well." Harry started to speak but Draco continued, "I had this game. I'd think 'I love you!' as hard as I could, anytime I saw you, trying to make you feel it, trying to make you hear me." He paused, looking lost and abashed.

Harry took his Draco's hand and kissed the upturned palm. His heart was hammering in his chest as the words he had so wanted to hear resonated in his hearing, in his memory. Gently Harry stroked his palm and fingers. "I love you, too. I know you're afraid. I can't tell you not to fear, because that won't help you. But I'm not a child, Draco. Childhood happened to other people while I was in the cupboard. That's the pretty world I had until I came to Hogwarts. Since then, someone's tried to kill me almost every year. Still look pretty to you? I've not had a normal life, and neither have you. We have some of the same monsters to kill, right? I need you to trust me. I need your trust as much as your love."

Draco nodded and was very still. "Harry, just stay with me. I feel strange….like I'm filled with broken glass. I wasn't close to my parents in the same way as other people are. But now I feel like I'm drifting and useless. I don't know what I have to offer you. But before this happened, I knew I wanted you. I still do. I always will."

Harry grinned, looking like the young Quidditch champion again. He caught Draco in an open-armed hug, throwing both of them backward to the ground. The warm summer sun shone on the pair lying in the grass. Draco looked up at the cerulean sky, filed with white cloud castles. Again he felt as if his life were teetering between its end and its beginning. His parents were dead, his House destroyed, his identity in grave question. But he was loved, beyond any doubt and beyond any degree to which he had ever felt himself worthy. There was an anchor for him, and a task to complete. He nestled his face in Harry's neck, smelling sweet sweat, and grass, and a little bit of the distant sea. He was kissing Harry's throat when a cat hopped down from the garden wall and pranced regally over to the two men. The cat meowed loudly, as Draco was undoing Harry's shirt. "Go on now. Don't you have anything better to do?" he asked the feline. "Cat?" mumbled Harry into Draco's chest. A long shadow fell over the young men as Minerva McGonagall materialized from the slinky form.

"Gentlemen, I trust you have finished rolling in the dirt for today?" the tart-tongued instructor asked. Harry and Draco hopped to their feet, dusting themselves off, Harry blushing Weasley-red, Draco grabbing pathetically for dignity. They nodded like the schoolboys they had once been.

"Good. Gather your things, our time is limited and we have to make a stop on our way to Hogwarts,"

Draco took a deep breath and asked McGonagall, "I suppose I'll have to go to the Ministry for questioning soon?"

McGonagall looked a bit wheyish. "No, Draco. The Ministry was destroyed yesterday afternoon. The Central Ministry Office in London was destroyed, as were most of the subsidiary and ancillaries in Britain. Few ranking officers above R4 are still alive. The Ministry as a governing body no longer exists."

Harry took a step forward, almost grabbing the elderly professor. "Percy? Mr. Weasley? Hermione?"

Minerva steeled herself to deliver bad news. She had done it many times in her long life, but it was not a facile task.

"Arthur and Hermione were at the Malfoy estate, continuing their investigations. Percy has been very seriously injured; his survival is in question. Harry, Ronald Weasley was at the Ministry building at the time of the attack. He was brought to St. Mungo's as I was leaving; I do not know the extent of his injuries. St Mungo's is the stop we must make. The Weasleys are asking for you. They have not been made aware that you survived."

Harry's knees went liquid. He was dimly aware of Draco's arm supporting him. As from a great distance he heard Draco ask, "Survived what?"

Harry willed the roaring in his ears to subside. "Come on, then."

End Chapter Two