Title: In The Interests Of …
Author: I_nv_u50
Pairings: DracoXHarry
Disclaimer: If I were owner of either of these two marvelous worlds, would the official versions still be straight?
Chapter Rating: PG13 for Ron's evil language… .
Author's Notes: Originally I had planned to post this on Friday – that is, tomorrow – but I got such a sucky mark on my first maths quiz of the year which should have been easy, I'm going to let Draco take out my rage for me. You go Draco!! This is the shorter second half of the last chapter. And, I am proud to say, I wrote two more chapters in the last two days. I have decided that school is the cure for my writer's block. Finally, a good reason for school! :D
… Still. I'd rather go to Hogwarts. (who wouldn't, really?) Anyway, in this chapter is badly written almost angst, and it gets pretty corny at the end, but Harry insisted . .
And in case you're wondering, no, the muses are not here today; they're still in bed. I gave them a day off in reward of their hard work yesterday and the day before (like the whole summer wasn't enough? ::rolls eyes:: Whatever. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and please review! Cheers! ^^
Draco snarled silently, his vision tunneling with rage, tinged on the edges with black.
The second sign Harry got showing that all was not right, was a wave of dizziness that sent him swaying into Ron, followed by surge of the blackest anger he had ever felt.
He dimly heard Ron speak, all he could see was what he was nowhere close enough to be really seeing, so he had to be looking through Draco.
The giggling, drunken, idiotic pre-SeeDs had gotten out permanent markers and were approaching a portrait of a beautiful lady who looked familiar, talking and joking with each other, mostly about what they would like to do to her.
Harry fell helplessly to his knees; gagging under the sudden stressful pressure on his throat, too busy battling with the anger that couldn't possibly be wholly his to stop Draco, whose eyes had started to glow in a fearful manner.
Harry lurched to his feet in an attempt to get closer to his sorceress, and Ron, completely unsure whether this was the wise thing to do, helped him stay upright as Hermione gave up on trying to stop Harry and rushed forward to try and warn the bickering, intoxicated teens.
"Harry! Harry, can you hear me? Harry! Your eyes are glowing!" Ron faltered, looking at Harry in morbid fascination. "Oh shit."
Harry pushed Ron away, unable to fight Draco's demanding rage any longer. His eyes had gone silver through and through, presenting one with the illusion that he had no other eye parts. Just glowing silver.
Ron chanced a quick look at Draco. "Oh, bloody hell!"
Draco had gone stock-still and silent, his face outwardly calm and blank. You would have thought him fine, if not for his knight going insane, the angry twist of his mouth, the luminous silver eyes, and the silver blonde hair that was whipping about in the windless room.
Ron didn't dare touch the enraged sorceress, but he could and did try to snap Harry out of it. He was too busy holding Harry back, muttering supposedly calming things to him that weren't working at all, to hear an angry, appalled yell from Hermione that was immediately blown away in a voiceless roar of thunder.
Ron whirled around, and dropped his arms, letting go of Harry as he gaped at the sorceress in shock.
Draco was floating, higher than Ron had ever seen him float before, well above the heads of the suddenly afraid teens. The wind was battering at the slender body of the sorceress, so hard that Ron was almost afraid it would knock Draco down, or tear him apart. Draco's eyes had gone red, and they were the only things left visible when Ron twisted, leaving Harry to get to his girlfriend, who was in the midst of the terrified pre-SeeDs.
When he had pushed past them, and had gripped her shoulders in urgency, she snapped out of whatever frightful daze the sight had put her in.
"Look!" she shouted over the wind, and gestured to the forgotten painting that was lying face up on the floor.
It was covered with crude and coarse impressions, the least insulting to either the woman or the sorceress being a sudden dip in the dress' neckline, which exposed both breasts – drawn in by a shaky hand.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione shouted in Ron's ear, and he tore his disgusted stare away from the picture.
He could do little more to answer her other than gesture in the vague direction he had left Harry. "He wouldn't come! I don't think he has a choice anymore!"
Hermione just gave a sad, quick nod to show she heard and understood, and returned her worried eyes to Draco.
Then the doors burst open, and in rushed four older people. One went immediately to the edge of the group, while the other three settled down to fight Draco.
Harry, unable to help his sorceress, could only start a hand-to-hand combat with whomever Draco told him to fight, speaking in a silent way that left Harry unable to refuse the need for a violent revenge that was coursing through the sorceress.
He wasn't sure how many people he had fought, before he found himself fighting someone that he liked, that he remembered liking, who had a significant aura. Someone that he almost trusted, someone who could kill Harry with his bare hands.
Harry, with a lot of effort, finally ignored his sorceress' wish to kill, and fell back, breathing heavily, feeling Draco's mental and physical screaming in his mind. He leant on his knees, closing his eyes tightly to try and block the anguished screams that filtered through anyway, trying to catch his breath.
Zell watched him warily for a few minutes, then helped Harry stand without swaying, a master effort, and one that Harry felt absurdly proud of. He felt drained, and Zell ran quick, assessing eyes over him, thankful that the younger man hadn't been enthralled.
"There." Zell pointed at Harry's screaming sorceress who was being restrained by Seifer and Squall, backed up by Rinoa. "Go help him, Harry. Make him calm down before they kill him."
Harry gave him a shocked look, but didn't waste time on questions he could always ask later, just ran off to where the fight was happening as fast as he could, pushing through the astonished cadets roughly.
Draco felt a familiar presence come closer, a presence he suddenly needed and he turned to face it, reaching out towards it blindly as the attacks on him slowed and then finally stopped.
Draco felt it stop close, so close, but not nearly close enough, and he stretched out for it, almost sobbing in relief as it took him into strong, warm arms.
He collapsed gratefully into them, forgetting everything but this presence and how he needed it, how it soothed and comforted.
Harry blinked at his headmaster over Draco's slumped form, clearly wondering what to do.
Seifer exchanged looks with Rinoa before gesturing to Zell. "Give him to Zell, Harry. We'll go to his bedroom and talk."
Harry slowly and reluctantly passed Draco to Zell, who simply picked him up, one arm under Draco's knees, the other around Draco's back.
Draco's head lolled back, his arms dangled limply, and Harry swayed dizzily, held upright only by Seifer who just gave him an understanding look.
They paused at the doorway for a few seconds for Seifer to exchange a few words with the commander, and then carried on; ignoring the stares they got from the few people in the corridor that they passed.
Nothing happened until they reached Draco's bedroom and Zell laid him on the bed carefully.
Draco woke up enough to whimper softly and reach unerringly towards Harry, who was a little uncertain, but got pushed by Rinoa, so he lay down next to Draco, tense and unable to relax.
"Hold him!" Rinoa hissed, and Harry bit back a retort, winding his arms around Draco's waist, flushing a little when Draco made a soft sound and moved closer.
No one said a thing for a few minutes.
Seifer eventually broke the silence. "Alright Harry, what happened back there?"
Harry blinked and thought back, honestly trying to remember. "I'm not sure, sir. It's all hazy, but I remember there was a painting…"
~A flash of memory, sudden and bittersweet. A young woman in front of a vanity table, happy because she could wear her favourite dress to this painting session.~
Harry blinked again, unsure of where that had come from. Below his chin, Draco opened his eyes slowly.
"A painting? Who of?" Seifer's tone was sharp, suspecting.
"A lady, with long, light blonde hair…" Harry trailed off, remembering the similarities between the two pictures and Draco.
Seifer aptly said what he was thinking, cursing in a language that was quite enough to take the polish off the wooden bed.
"Who was it?" It was the first time Squall had spoken in front of Harry that evening, if ever at all, and he was quiet and exceptionally hard to read.
Seifer glanced at him searchingly. "Narcissa, probably. Draco's mother."
Harry bit back a curse again, and Draco's arms tightened around Harry as a trickle of sorrow echoed hollowly down the bond.
Zell and Seifer were staring at Rinoa, who was watching Squall, their eyes thoughtful and anticipated.
Squall eyed the two on the bed for a few minutes, and then silently shook his head.
There was a soft, inaudible sigh of relief, and the sudden release of tension in the room made Harry wonder exactly what had Squall and Rinoa just decided.
Rinoa looked around, her eyes oddly serious. "You three, in the office. Harry, I know you're tired, but stay with Draco. Your presence will comfort him."
Squall spoke in a monotone. "If I find him outside wandering alone, I'll kill him."
Harry blinked at him, startled at the statement, and Zell chuckled softly.
"Ignore him, Harry." Zell gave Squall a fond look, which Squall pretended not to notice. "He's just giving you extra motivation to stay in bed when he might have tried to leave. He was in denial until months after we started sleeping together."
"We-we're not-I mean I'm not…" Harry stuttered, and Zell laughed and winked.
Rinoa gave a Harry a smile. "Stop teasing, Zell. I believe I gave an order?"
Zell swept a mocking bow, and Harry wondered how they could suddenly be so lighthearted. Rinoa and her knights left, quietly shutting the door behind them.
There was silence as Draco relaxed further, and Harry just held him, finding that just holding each other was unspeakably relieving.
After a while, Draco spoke softly. "I ordered all of those paintings locked away. How could they have gotten it? I didn't even know where they were."
"I don't know."
There was silence for a few more minutes.
"Draco? Tell me about you."
"Me?"
"Yes." Harry whispered, and drew back a little so he could look Draco in the eye. "Tell me."
"What would you like to know?" Draco clamped down on the suspicion before it could follow the bond.
Harry resisted the urge to say 'Everything', settling for a half shrug.
Draco regarded him seriously. "You have friends to see. We can talk later, or tomorrow after the SeeD ball or something."
Harry's mouth tightened with irritation. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me enough so I can understand what happened back there."
Draco hid a smirk, and his arms hugged Harry closer. "That's good, because I don't want you to go. So we'll talk tomorrow."
Harry sighed, but he wouldn't have been able to do anything but struggle pointlessly to leave.
Not with everything in him demanding he get closer, or with Draco holding him so tightly.
Harry suddenly felt helpless.
"How can I help you if I don't know what's wrong?" Harry blurted out, and Draco shuddered unintentionally.
"Don't. Just don't. Leave me be." Draco's tone was tight, guarded and secure, letting none of what he was feeling be heard.
Harry wasn't fooled. "Draco, it's me. Harry. Your knight. You have to trust me, I know you do. The bond will be destroyed if you don't, surely you can feel that as well?"
Draco quivered, tense and offering nothing, staying silent, and Harry resisted the urge to slap the sorceress' head.
"Draco! Trust me! Who else can you trust if not your own knight!?"
Harry's voice was despairing, suddenly hopeless. He wanted that silent communication that Rinoa and Squall had. Or the easy intimacy that the three knights seemed to share together.
Draco stayed silent, not giving anything any fact or reality, but he moved closer to Harry, burying his face in the SeeD's neck.
Harry sighed through his nose and held Draco tightly until his arms hurt, understanding the move for what it was.
Not surrender, nor was he submitting, but Draco was willing to try it Harry's way.
Draco sighed quietly against Harry's throat and felt both he and Harry drifting closer to sleep.
Draco was warm, warmer than he could ever remember wishing, and held safe in Harry's arms, but it was more than that. Harry would help him, he felt protected, protected from everything, even the ghost of his mother and his rampaging magical urges.
It was a small step, to be sure, but it was, at least, a step in the right direction.
Draco was learning to trust.