Title: Prerogative of Power
Author: Napolde
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Warning(s): AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.
Disclaimer: Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.
Summary: In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.
A/N: The usual thanks go to my two superb beta readers, Rachecho and Luciology, who helped me through my crisis and suggested a lot of wonderful things. And to all who reviewed and gave me encouragement, thank you.
This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.
PREROGATIVE OF POWER
Chapter Five: Caught in the Undertow
Sing me no songs of daylight
For the sun is the enemy of lovers,
Sing instead of shadows and darkness
And memories of midnight
—Sappho
Riding over the hill and past the mist-covered forest, they arrived at Gryffindor castle with Harry still leaning against Draco's chest. However, Harry stiffened when he saw the people of Gryffindor crowding the entrance. Most of them glared in silence, but one woman shouted, "God damn you, Death Eater!"
Malfoy didn't react, but as they approached the castle, Harry withdrew as far as possible from the arm holding him tightly.
Mad-Eye was waiting on the top step. His stern expression turned to one of anger when he saw Harry's bruised face. Pushing past Snape and Zabini, who were walking down the front stairs, Mad-Eye hurried toward him. "My lord—"
Harry dismounted despite the arm still wrapped around him, and Draco didn't let go until Harry was standing firmly on the ground. "He's all right," Draco told Moody.
Harry nodded to Mad-Eye, confirming what Malfoy had said, but he still put a hand on Mad-Eye's shoulder to steady himself. He felt very weak, and his head throbbed continuously in wave after agonizing wave of pain. He was surprised he could even stand upright and start up the steps.
Mad-Eye followed him. "I was worried when I found you gone." He scowled. "I thought you ran away."
Harry gave a noncommittal grunt. In some way, he did run away earlier. It had been too much for him, he who'd never thought about responsibilities before. But he knew he could never escape from his duties to his land.
"What happened?" Mad-Eye asked as he glanced at Draco. "Did Malfoy hurt you?"
Harry shook his head, and sucked his breath as it pounded again. Fuck. "No, he saved me from a group of Death Eaters."
Mad-Eye looked at him incredulously. "He did? From other Death Eaters?"
Behind them, Draco was talking to Zabini. "Tell the others to get ready. I found Walden Macnair nosing around."
"Macnair, is it?"
As weary as Harry was, he heard the disgust in Blaise's voice. He turned to look at Zabini, but he was already hurrying off to do his friend's command. Malfoy was in deep discussion with Severus Snape, and Harry noticed that the Potion Master's face was bleaker than usual. He was sure he'd heard Voldemort's name mentioned more than once, together with his own name.
"What Death Eaters?" Moody persisted.
He got the story out of Harry as they went toward the castle. Halfway through his account they were joined by Hermione, who had been waiting in the hall. She went white when she saw the bruises that lingered on his face. "Harry, look at your face! If he hadn't been there—"
She broke off as the Montague brothers came running down the main stairs in answer to their leader's summon. The younger, Stephen Montague, bowed to them with an impish grin on his face. His brother was busy settling a deadly-looking knife into his belt.
Mad-Eye said sourly, "I never thought to find anything good to say about Malfoy, but I thank Merlin he was there for you."
"He was just defending his property," Harry pointed out.
Moody scowled. "You'd no business out riding on your own."
Harry swallowed the urge to laugh. If only Mad-Eye knew that he'd just echoed what Malfoy told Harry earlier.
"You better rest, my lord," Moody was saying, "and I'll have the cook prepare something for you to eat later."
When he ambled off to the kitchen, Harry and Hermione went upstairs to his bedchamber.
"I should've guessed you'd gone riding. You always do when you're upset." Hermione's voice hardened with resolve. "Harry, I can't let you sacrifice yourself like this. I'll marry Malfoy."
Harry managed to smile. Too late, Hermione. I'm already in over my head. Harry could still feel the soft kisses on his neck, and he gritted his teeth at the memory. "We mustn't let him hear us. He'll think we're fighting over him."
"But Harry..."
"It's all right." Harry hugged his cousin and quickly turned away, thinking that Hermione mustn't know how strongly Harry was tempted to shift his burden. "I know what I'm doing."
Hermione, despite her intelligence and strong will, would never survive being married to Malfoy. He remembered the barely leashed magic that shrouded Draco and Harry knew that his power extended to his mind and spirit. It gave him a driving, vital force that could lash or burn.
Draco Malfoy wasn't just dangerous—he could be deadly. Harry licked his cut lip, recalling the controlled fury with which he'd faced Macnair. No, Hermione couldn't marry Malfoy.
"I'm tired," he told his cousin. "I'm going to do as Mad-Eye says, for once, and rest. If Aunt Petunia comes looking for me, explain for me, Hermione."
Miraculously, Harry slept. For two hours, a deep, heavy sleep kept him from the harshness of reality and even from dreams. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky and he felt better. His head ache was gone and upon glancing at a mirror facing his bed, he saw that his bruises had faded. Harry realized that he was hungry, too. He hadn't eaten anything before riding out at dawn, and now his stomach growled in protest. Getting up, he put on his black boots and gathered the cloak he'd discarded earlier. He opened the door to his room and went downstairs.
Hermione's voice came from their aunt's chamber, but otherwise, the castle was quiet and he met no one in the stairs. There was no one in the kitchen either, but a pot of stew simmered enticingly on a hook over the fire. Harry was spooning some of it into a bowl when he heard a step behind him and saw Snape standing in the doorway.
"You're awake. Good," he commented.
"Obviously," Harry muttered. He took his bowl of stew to the kitchen table and sat down. Snape seated himself across him and watched him eat. Undaunted, Harry kept silent under the man's unnerving gaze.
"Don't you have something to do other than to ogle at me?" Harry demanded, finally snapping.
Snape raised a brow, and Harry was oddly reminded of Malfoy. "I assure you, Potter, I'm not ogling you."
"Then what do you want? Why do you keep looking at me? Don't you have potions to brew or villages to burn?"
Snape's eyes glinted in disgust. "Draco has gone off with the others to make sure Macnair isn't on the land. He told me to keep an eye on you." Snape sounded revolted by the idea, and Harry couldn't help but agree. He looked at Snape curiously, though, and as if he read Harry's mind, Snape grunted.
"Walden Macnair is one of the most influential Death Eaters around; it was foolish of you to antagonize him."
Harry gripped his spoon tightly, but the truth of what Snape had said kept back the protest he wanted to say. No matter what the reason was, Malfoy had saved Harry today. If he'd come a few minutes later...
Expelling a breath, he pushed the bowl away and looked at Snape thoughtfully. He knew it would be a challenge to make the austere man talk, but Harry had to try. "Tell me more about Macnair," he said, and Snape pierced him with such an intense, calculating look that it made him want to recoil in alarm, but Harry stood his ground.
"What is there to tell? He is well-favored by the Dark Lord, and he's also a butcher."
"And Malfoy isn't?"
Black eyes narrowed keenly for a moment. "I've known Draco Malfoy since he was a child. He grew up under my tutelage, and he is my most gifted student. I was there when he first cast the Cruciatus curse on another person, and I was his second when he first fought in a duel." And won it, Harry could almost hear Snape add smugly. "I was also there when he first killed someone. But believe it or not, Potter, Draco doesn't enjoy killing others, unlike Macnair." Snape paused. "Not unless he's provoked."
The last statement sent a frisson of unease throughout Harry. He wasn't surprised to learn that Malfoy had dabbled with the Unforgivables and had fought duels, but did Snape expect Harry to believe him? Believe that Malfoy didn't enjoy killing? "That's rubbish, Snape. Malfoy threatened to kill me in the forest."
"Don't mistake me, Potter." Snape smirked. "Draco could've killed you if he'd wanted to. I told him not to, remember?"
Harry glared at the sallow-faced man. "Besides, Malfoy's a Death Eater; he must've taken pleasure in burning houses and raiding the lands."
Snape looked at him thoughtfully. "He did join once, actually. A Death Eater group rode into a village somewhere in Ravenclaw and burned the first house they came to. A woman ran out of it, and two men caught hold of her. They got her on her back and—"
"I don't want to hear any more of this," Harry interrupted through gritted teeth.
As if he hadn't heard Harry, Snape continued coolly, "Draco rode up then and ordered them to let her go. They laughed at him so he had to break one man's jaw and curse another. The others ran away in fear of what Draco might turn them into. Later, he passed the word around that anyone caught raping or mistreating the conquered people would answer to him."
Harry was gripping the edge of the table hard when Snape ended his tale. "Liar. He can't be a Death Eater if he is kind and merciful."
Snape shot him another disgusted look. "You are clearly not listening to me, Potter. Kind? Merciful? Men wet their breeches when they see him coming. What I'm saying is that Draco won't tolerate someone who hurts women and prisoners. He is a fair leader."
Harry wanted to doubt Snape's words—it made sense to distrust Snape—but Harry didn't think Malfoy's mentor was lying. Harry frowned over this facet of Draco Malfoy's character. It didn't fit the picture he'd built of the pale-haired Death Eater. Not at all. "How about the rest of you? Aren't you Death Eaters as well?"
"Death Eaters? Death Eaters serve Voldemort, but the nine of us follow Draco. That differs us from them."
"But Malfoy serves Voldemort, and that makes all of you his servants. The same as Death Eaters."
Snape waved a hand. "You may think what you want, Potter. I'm only here to look after you, not change your mind about us."
Harry wanted to shout that he didn't want to change his mind about them, but he stood up instead. "Then you won't mind if I go upstairs?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry went out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs. As he passed his aunt's bedchamber, Aunt Petunia called out to him. "Where have you been? Sleeping, Hermione tells me, while we've been busy."
Harry glanced at the pile of linen heaped on Petunia's bed. More lay in the basket on the floor, and Harry recognized sheets and tablecloths as well as robes. Hermione, sitting by the window and embroidering silver threads on a white robe, avoided meeting Harry's eyes.
"I should think," grumbled their aunt, "that you would pay attention to your ceremonial robe."
"There's no need to make a ceremonial robe for me, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, crossing his arms on his chest.
"What?"
"I'll wear my mourning clothes."
"Harry!" Petunia cried, and Hermione shook her head with a rueful smile on her lips.
"Harry, wearing black is an insult! The man owns Gryffindor and Hangleton. If you anger him—" Petunia broke off as a clatter of hoofbeats sounded in the courtyard below. Harry went to the window.
Malfoy had returned, and the people of Gryffindor trailed behind him. A bitter knot formed in Harry's throat as he watched them come. Over a hundred women, old people and children were all that remained of the brave and loyal Gryffindors. The soldiers and men had ridden away to fight with Dumbledore.
"What's he going to do now?" Hermione wondered fearfully.
Harry remembered the hate-filled glares the people had given their new master. Had Malfoy decided to take reprisals on them? Whatever his decision, Harry was powerless against him. All he could do was go downstairs and share his people's fate.
Moody met him in the hall as he ran down the stairs. "It seems the man has called a meeting of the people," he informed Harry grimly.
"It may be more than that." His heart hammered as he pushed open the door and stood on the top step of the castle. In the courtyard below, Draco was still mounted, and he looked every inch the triumphant conqueror atop his beautiful grey steed and wearing a heavy black cloak, looking down arrogantly at the cluster of mute people.
His men had dismounted, and Harry noticed that Snape was making his way toward Draco. As Harry dashed down the stairs, Mad-Eye grabbed his arm. "Best stay out of it, my lord."
Shaking off his hand, Harry darted down the steps and across the cobbled courtyard. Voldemort might have given Gryffindor to Malfoy, but they were still his people. He stopped between Luna and Seamus, and with them faced their Death Eater master.
Draco watched Harry's approach with annoyance. He thought he was having progress with his betrothed earlier on their journey back to the castle. When he kissed Harry, the Gryffindor didn't offer any resistance; he had kissed Draco back with a surrender that thrilled Draco even now. They even managed to have a conversation without cursing one another, but he should've known that it wouldn't last long.
Why had he allowed himself to be talked into marrying Harry Potter instead of Hermione Granger?
"There's something you need to understand," Draco began. His grey eyes flickered over the people, and then came to rest on Harry. "I own Gryffindor."
"But you don't own us," Seamus muttered.
There was a moment's stillness. Then, deliberately, Draco dismounted. He handed the reins to Crabbe and sauntered forward, and in spite of themselves, the Gryffindors gave ground.
"As the lawful heir to Gryffindor, I shall marry Lord Harry Potter."
A horrified gasp went up from the crowd. Disbelief and anger burst forth, followed by denials. Draco let the noise escalate, then he held up a hand for silence.
"We'll be married at the end of this week."
What the hell? Was the first thought in Harry mind, and he gulped when he saw Malfoy holding out a hand to him. He remained unmoving, glaring with intense hate at Malfoy, but the smirk in Malfoy's mouth told Harry that he had little choice on the matter.
Harry knew his people were seething with rage. Defiance from him would be like setting a match to a powder keg, and if his people rebelled, Malfoy would order his men to retaliate.
Reluctantly, he stepped forward and put his hand in Malfoy's, and Harry was unnerved at how their hands entwined and tangled familiarly.
"Lord James is dead," Draco told the people. "But Harry and I are wizards, and through a magical joining, the bloodline will go on." He paused to let that sink in. "These are dangerous times, and what's mine, I defend. You'll be safe, and as long as you do as I say, you'll prosper. When your soldiers and men come home from the battles, they'll find a place here with no questions asked as long as they leave their politics behind."
Despite his resentment, Harry had to admit Malfoy did well to offer reassurance and hope for better days without losing his grip on the people's fear.
"It was said you're leaving Gryffindor. How can you protect us from Death Eaters like Macnair if you're in Hangleton?" Someone from the crowd yelled.
"Macnair's not enough of a fool to bother you again. Besides, five of my men will remain here with you." At his nod, five of Malfoy's followers walked forward: Evan Rosier and Malcolm Baddock, the mercenaries Crabbe and Goyle, and Marcus Flint. "These men are fighters trained to defend, and they have the authority of my name. Few would be foolish enough to challenge that."
Harry could almost hear his people thinking about the things Malfoy had said. They'd expected a harsh, even brutal, treatment from the Death Eater, and instead had been offered protection and a promise of amnesty for their fighting men. And he was going to marry into the family so that the Potter line would continue. It wasn't good, but it could have been worse.
Unfortunately, not all Gryffindors were realists. As Draco dismissed the people, Seamus' dark eyes met Harry's. How can you marry him? they demanded.
Harry snatched away the hand Draco still held and rubbed it hard against his breeches.
Not missing the insulting gesture, Draco sneered. "You haven't thanked me for saving your life, Potter."
"Don't flatter yourself!" Harry burst out. He turned his back on Draco and started up the stairs, only to find Malfoy falling into step beside him.
"There are things we must discuss."
Ignoring Moody, who was hovering in the hallway, Draco opened the study door and gestured inside. "My darling," he invited.
"Shut up," Harry muttered as he walked past Malfoy and went to the furthest corner of the room with his back to the wall, putting as much space as he could between them. The study was still the same; his father's books and maps were still there, but Malfoy's cloak had been tossed over a chair and numerous rolls of unfamiliar parchment crowded the desk.
"Blaise and I were charting our route to Hangleton," Draco was saying. "We will leave as soon as we're married."
They were going to leave Gryffindor at the end of the week. Harry still couldn't believe it.
"Blaise calculates that it will take several days to reach Castle Hangleton. What do you think?"
"I guess." In answer to Draco's quizzing look, he explained, "I've never been to Peter's land. Despite being joined with Gryffindor, it is far from here and the journey to Castle Hangleton is difficult. Father went there sometimes, but it was usually Peter who used to visit here often."
Draco nodded, stone-faced. "And about the ceremony, I'm inviting our neighbors."
Startled, Harry shook his head immediately. "Are you insane? Do you want another war here in Gryffindor? They won't come! They're too proud—"
"They will." Cool grey eyes glinted, and a corner of Malfoy's lip rose. "Fear governs all of us, even the proud and fine nobles of the realm." He proceeded to name the guests he'd invited from the neighboring lands: Diggory, Smith, Bones, Patil, Crouch, Weasley. "I heard the patriarch of the Weasley family stayed at home to oversee his land while his sons fought in the war. And Lord Bones marched with Dumbledore, but his Lady will come."
"Are you saying they're afraid of you?" Harry mocked.
"I can protect my neighbors or harm them. They know this. Of course, they won't admit it. Amelia Bones will say she's come only in memory of your father, and Arthur Weasley will whisper to you that you must be brave for Gryffindor's sake."
Harry seethed. "I'll be mourning Gryffindor. I plan to be married in black."
Grey eyes narrowed. "Change your plans, then."
"Sorry, Malfoy, I've made up my mind."
In an instant, Malfoy had crossed the room and leaned toward Harry, backing him against the wall. "If you come down wearing black," he promised, "I'll strip you naked in front of the guests." His voice was almost silky, but something in it was stunningly terrifying. "You'll look beautiful on our wedding day."
"Damn you, Malfoy, you don—" Harry caught his breath when Draco placed his hands on the wall on either side of Harry's head and leaned closer until every part of their bodies were pressed together completely. His mind swam in a haze, unaware of the cold stone wall behind him, oblivious to anything except Draco. Somehow, when Draco Malfoy was near him, all his thoughts, all his reasons, dissolved into thin air as overwhelming desire—need—took over.
"Harry..." Draco murmured as he placed fierce kisses up Harry's throat to his ear, making him writhe. "Harry." Nip. Bite. Suck. OH! "I want you to promise me that you'll be a dutiful husband."
Draco's body against his was a hard and heavy weight, and he could feel its heat through his shirt and breeches, invasive, enveloping. Harry shuddered when teeth grazed the soft area just below his ear, letting out a strangled groan. "I'll give no such promise."
Draco grabbed Harry's hands and pinned them above his head, twining their hands together just as perfectly as they had in the courtyard. He rammed his hips against Harry's hard, and the other boy gasped aloud and jerked roughly against him. "Are you going back on your word? It was you who suggested the marriage." Draco stared at those conflicted green eyes not unlike a cornered deer's. "Perhaps you've lost your nerve."
In spite of himself, Draco hissed in pleasure when Harry's face twisted in utter loathing. The air between them crackled with magic and tension, and God, Harry looked magnificent when he was angry.
"I'll keep my bargain with you," Harry spat, his eyes flashing a dangerous green, "but you won't get submission from me. You'll never rule me or my thoughts, Malfoy."
"Then I'll start with your body instead."
Before Harry could register what Malfoy meant, Draco was crushing him against the wall and kissing him, and after a brief struggle, the fight drained out of Harry and he kissed Draco back, opening his mouth and moaning at the feel of softhard lips against his. The kiss was fierce and frantic and full of undisguised hunger as tongues clashed and twisted, and soon saliva glistened their lips as Draco pushed Harry harder against the wall and Harry tried to push back just as hard, wanting, needing, to fuse their bodies even closer, but it still wasn't enough. Harry whined and pulled at his trapped arms, demanding Draco to let him go because, God, Harry needed to touch him badly.
"Let me touch you. Please, Dra—" It ended in a moan when hands, Draco's hands, were suddenly unfastening his cloak and unbuttoning his shirt and roaming over his chest and neck and shoulders.
Draco opened his mouth further, their teeth clacking painfully but he didn't care, not when he could drink the small, wild sounds coming from Harry. Not when his tongue could slide even further inside Harry's mouth.
Harry made a keening sound and wrapped his arms around Draco, rocking his groin forward to collide with the hardness against him. He felt his mouth quirk triumphantly at the rugged noise that escaped from Draco's mouth, but Draco retaliated by sliding his hand into Harry's hair and wrenching his head back, biting at his lower lip as his other hand slid down Harry's chest to his stomach, and then brushed over his throbbing erection through the soft material of his breeches.
Harry's head fell back as he bucked and shuddered against the hand stroking him, his mouth opening with a low cry when he felt Draco's hand slip into his breeches to grasp his cock. "You like that?" Draco growled as he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and proceeded to suck at it, all the while his hand continued to caress and torment Harry's hardened cock.
Squeeze. Tug. Jerk. Fuck. "Ah, I see that you do. How much?"
Too much. Eyes sliding shut, Harry bit his lip and tasted blood, and then he let out another soundless cry when teeth closed on his nipple, Draco's tongue lapping back and forth once, twice, too many times, driving him mad with desire.
"I'll have your promise, Harry," Draco reminded him, the pace of his hand becoming faster still. "You will behave."
"Fuck you..." Harry panted, lips parting slightly as his breath hitched.
"Promise me." He tightened his hold on Harry and gave a particularly harsh jerk, causing Harry to cry out as pleasure built, peaked and turned the world white-hot, and then Harry was quivering into Draco's arms, coming in Draco's hand.
Harry kept his eyes closed, the realization of what he had done sweeping through him like a dark flood, but Merlin knew he tried; he just couldn't resist Draco Malfoy. And when Draco placed gentle, cajoling kisses up Harry's chest to his mouth, he could do nothing but slump toward Draco in an admission of defeat.
"Promise me..."
The quiet command was followed by insistent, sticky fingers pushing against his mouth, and oh, how Harry wanted to keep fighting him, but Draco had stripped down his defenses. He'd torn away Harry's pride, and he felt naked, alone and entirely without hope.
From very far away, he heard his own voice reply, "I'll do as you say," even as a finger slid inside his opened mouth and Harry tasted his own capitulation on his tongue.
To be continued...
Subtitled as the Chapter that Gave Me Hell. Damn, smut will be the death of me.
Next chapter, the wedding (and the wedding night). I might rate it NC-17, so it'll be revised to fit this site's requirement.
End Notes :
Someone said that they didn't understand Draco's action in the last sentence, so I edited it. Thanks a lot to the ones who've reviewed so far: Dark Angel's Blue Fire, Danaan and Ura-hd.
And to Gatogirl1: Your review made me happy. I'm also sad by the number of reviews I got(Indeed, let's start a petition:p) and well, Harry got beaten pretty easily because Draco is so irresistible, haha. But don't worry; he'll get his day yet. And ooh, the wedding! It's going to be a battleground. Thanks again!
Reviews are LOVE.