No Light Without Shadows
by Draeconin
See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.
Chapter Ten
Harry woke gradually to the feel of Draco lightly tracing imaginary designs on Harry's front, from just between his nipples, to his navel, which was just barely above the tip of Harry's straining erection.
"Mm... G'morning," Harry said in a sleep-induced slur.
"Good morning," Draco replied absently, without pausing in his endeavour.
Harry reached for his wand and cast a breath-freshening charm on himself. Setting his wand aside, he then leant over his lover and gave him a long, lingering kiss. That started a slow avalanche that ended in a long, leisurely morning shag, and Draco's insides being coated with Harry's come: a conclusion that satisfied both of them no matter how often it might happen. However, in a departure from the norm, Harry then proceeded to straddle Draco instead of suckling him for his morning snack.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked as Harry grasped the blond's erection.
"I decided I want you in me," Harry replied matter-of-factly, guiding the blond's erection to his entrance as he was preparing to cast a lubrication charm.
"Stop!" Draco cried urgently. "Damn, Harry," he said when Harry paused, "you're not even lubed, let alone loosened up. That would hurt me, too!"
Harry leaned down and licked along Draco's jaw to his ear. "So do it," he whispered seductively. If his boyfriend wanted to believe he didn't know what he was doing, he'd go along with it – just out of curiousity.
Draco looked at Harry suspiciously. "And what's up with you, then?" he asked. Harry had never before shown interest in reciprocating. Why now?
"Don't you want to?" Harry asked in turn.
Draco hesitated, and then decided to wait until later to ask further questions.
Afterwards Harry snuggled Draco up to him a little more comfortably and prepared to try to catch a little more sleep. It was Saturday, and he had every intention of being as lazy as possible today. Having Draco fuck him had hurt to begin with – it had been awhile since the last time he'd bottomed – but he was surprised at how good it had felt to have Draco in him. And even if his arse hurt a bit now, it was a good hurt.
"Harry?" Draco said tentatively.
"Hm?"
"What do you think of marriage?"
Harry stilled, willing himself to alertness as quickly as possible. "Hm?" he asked again in a slightly higher, more urgent tone.
"What do you think about marriage?" Draco repeated, a bit impatiently.
Suspicion and caution heavily laced his voice as Harry asked, "Why?" He was almost alert, now. A few more moments, and...
"Because according to Professor Snape, we probably are," Draco said in a quiet, tentative voice.
"What?" Harry screeched, sitting bolt upright and fixing Draco with a disbelieving stare.
"We were talking and he asked how we had got together. Somehow the triple vow came up. And you know how he is, Harry; he threatened to move you to another corridor and make life even more miserable for you. So I told him."
"You told him," Harry repeated disbelievingly. It didn't conform to his picture of Draco, that the blond would capitulate like that.
Draco nodded. "He got this very strange look on his face and went into his rooms, then came back with a book. He looked something up, and then he got so pale he almost looked green."
"And that's when he..." Harry trailed off, silently urging Draco to continue, even though he was almost dreading what he might hear.
"He said that because of the circumstances when I gave the vow, and then you accepted it..." Draco couldn't finish what he was saying.
"That we're married," Harry said tensely, finishing the sentence.
"Some old wizarding law," Draco affirmed quietly, becoming ever more nervous and tense.
"What law?" Harry's eyes had gone golden again, although they weren't as bright as true anger would have made them; it was just stress.
Agitated, Draco said, "I don't know: some old marriage law! It's a simple wedding rite!"
"A wedding rite," Harry echoed blankly.
"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it, to make vows during intercourse?" Draco's tone was getting higher and louder, the more agitated he became.
Thinking about it, Harry had to admit it did make a primitive sort of sense, but that didn't mean he had to like it. How the bloody hell did he keep invoking these things?
"And it's still a valid law?" Harry asked.
"Laws are rarely taken off the books, Harry: they fall into disuse, they're forgotten, but they're rarely revoked," Draco said. "It's highly unlikely anyone would care enough about a law like that to go to the trouble of revoking it."
"I think some research is called for," Harry said. "And I know just who to rope into doing it."
Draco could understand Harry's viewpoint, but he couldn't help but feel just a bit insulted that Harry didn't want to be married to him. Not that he wanted to be married to Harry either, mind.
'Liar,' his subconscious accused.
Draco ignored it.
"So, Hermione," Harry said, "it's a fairly obscure custom that has long fallen into disuse. Are you interested?" He had presented the problem as something that had come up 'in a discussion with another Slytherin' about old wizarding customs.
"And who are you planning to trap into marriage, Harry?" she asked with asperity.
Harry raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Maybe you?" he facetiously suggested.
Hermione blushed, but replied, "As if you were interested!"
"You're right; I'm not," Harry replied with a grin. "But will you research that for me?"
"After the way you've treated Ron and me?" she asked.
"I think we're fairly even on that score," Harry replied, his voice cooling considerably, "but here's a chance to start repairing the situation."
Hermione paused, but remembering Harry's ire before, she decided not to push it.
"It's not something I've ever heard of before," Hermione admitted, weakening.
"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, then!" With that he gently clasped her shoulder in thanks, not being able to bring himself to hug her, and departed, leaving an exasperated Hermione in his wake.
"I didn't say I'd do it!" she muttered to his back, but knowing she would – not necessarily for Harry, but because she couldn't bear the thought that there might be something she didn't know about the wizarding world. No matter how much she read and studied, she was finding out there was so much more about it to discover.
After classes Draco walked into Harry's room to again find him poring over a stack of papers; and they appeared to be the same stack of papers Harry had been studying the night before. He was curious, but first things first.
"So did she go for it, then?" Draco inquired.
Harry looked up at the blond. "Hermione?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Of course!" Harry replied. "You know that she has to know just everything."
"Good!" Draco replied, gracefully sliding into place beside Harry and trying to see what was written on the papers Harry had been so studiously examining.
Harry noticed, and turned them over. "Watch your nose, Draco," he teased, "it might find itself where it doesn't belong."
Draco shot him a look. "So what are they, then?" he asked, hanging his chin over Harry's shoulder.
"Papers," Harry replied unhelpfully.
"Oh, yes. Thank you very much. I couldn't see that at all," Draco said sarcastically. He reached for the top one, only to have Harry slap his hand.
"Ow! You beast!" the blond accused.
"They're just a bit more on the Potter and Dæmentelen families that I asked Gringotts to rummage about for, for me," Harry said.
Draco kept his voice quite casual as he asked, "And what do they say?"
"They don't say anything," Harry replied, a note of deviltry in his voice. "You have to read them."
"Oh, well," Draco said, getting up from his seat, "if you're not going to be sociable..."
Harry grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him back down. "What do you expect?" he asked. "You haven't even kissed me yet," he complained, diving in to capture the blond's lips.
About a minute later Draco pulled back. "So?"
"Mm... About an eight on a scale of ten, I'd think," Harry replied. "One would think you had your mind on other things."
Draco hit Harry's shoulder. "I wasn't asking you to rate my kisses!" he said exasperatedly.
Harry raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "No? Then what were you talking about? It couldn't have been..." He paused as he picked up the stack of papers. ". . . these, could it?"
Draco growled at him.
Harry laughed. "Alright, alright! You remember me saying that the Potter family had more power than it seemed?"
Draco nodded impatiently. "Yes. So?"
"It seems the Potters were a branch of the Dæmentelen family."
"I'd already surmised as much," Draco said smugly, again resting his chin on Harry's shoulder, "but it's nice to have my guess verified. Is that all?"
"More or less," Harry said. "The rest of it tells of various seats of power, rights, responsibilities, and so on."
"And those are?" Draco asked.
"What makes you think you have the right to know?" Harry asked, getting a little impatient with Draco's inquisitiveness.
"Oh, nothing much . . . husband mine," Draco said, getting ready to dodge any reaction to his teasing.
It was good he had, because Harry aimed a half-hearted slap at the head laying on his shoulder. Draco fell back laughing, after jerking his head out of the way.
"I guess that makes you the wife, then," Harry said in retaliation.
Draco thought about it – for all of half a second, before backhanding Harry in the side. "Peasant," he accused, before sitting up and getting back to the point.
"So what seats of power have you, then?" he asked.
Harry ceded the argument and replied, "A seat on the Wizengamot, one on the board of directors for Saint Mungo's and one for Hogwarts, one—"
"You've a seat on the Hogwarts board?"
"Yes..." Harry replied slowly. He would have thought Draco would jump on the fact that he had a seat on the Wizengamot, so what...?
"Who's been sitting it, then?" Draco asked.
Harry blinked. "I imagine it's been sitting empty," he replied. "Since my father died, anyway."
"My father never mentioned it. In fact I recall him once saying he wished a seat would open so they could try to get another of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers in it so they could make more changes here."
"Voldemort," Harry corrected absently, before addressing the main issue.
"I think I may need to show up to the next meeting, then," Harry said thoughtfully, "and to the Wizengamot as well."
A knock at Harry's portal interrupted the conversation. Upon opening it Harry was surprised to find Professor Dumbledore. "Yes, Professor?" he asked, trying to remain at least civil.
"I was wondering if perhaps young Mister Malfoy was here with you. He doesn't seem to be in his own rooms," the old man said.
Raising an eyebrow, since the headmaster didn't usually seek out pupils himself, Harry nodded and said, "Won't you come in?"
"Actually, Mister Potter, I rather think I should talk to Mister Malfoy privately," Dumbledore replied.
Harry nodded again.
"Draco?" he called. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you."
A few seconds later Draco was standing with them, looking at the headmaster with his usual cool disdain.
"Ah, there you are, young Malfoy," Dumbledore said with a hint of sadness.
"Yes, Headmaster?" Draco said, trying to prompt Dumbledore to get to the point.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps we should retire to my office?"
Draco refrained, with difficulty, from looking to Harry for support. The realisation that he'd come to depend on the former Gryffindor so much came as something of a shock.
"May I suggest my rooms? They're much closer," Draco suggested.
Dumbledore inclined his head in acquiescence and stood aside to let Draco lead the way.
A few minutes later a much paler Draco came through their connecting doorway, and silently curled up by Harry on the couch.
Harry put his arms around his obviously shaken lover. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Is Dumbledore being an arse again?"
Draco shook his head. "No," he said, his voice a bit shaky.
Harry waited, soothingly rubbing Draco's back. He knew if he pushed that Draco would likely get upset; and the blond was already obviously upset. It wouldn't take much of an excuse for Draco to deal with his distress by getting angry.
A minute later Draco turned to Harry and seemed to change the subject – and in a surprising way.
"Fuck me, Harry," he almost pled. "Own me."
Harry was quite taken aback. Although Draco had initiated sex between them on more than one occasion, he had never asked for it; and he had never asked to be made to feel owned. In fact he had always insisted that he was free and independent. But if that's what Draco needed right now...
Afterwards Draco clung to Harry as if he were the last bastion of defence in a storm, and cried. Harry didn't know what was going on, and felt more than a little helpless and rather useless. But he kept silent and let Draco work through this on his own, his only efforts to aid being to hold and kiss his boyfriend and caress him, trying to make him feel as safe and cared for as possible.
When Draco seemed to have cried himself out, Harry gently asked, "What's happened, love?"
Draco took a deep, shuddering breath. "They're dead," he said.
"Who?"
"My parents."
Harry went still. "How?"
"He-Who..." Draco began, then stopped and resolutely said, "V-Voldemort."
Harry frowned. He wouldn't put it past the bastard, but why? It couldn't be because he and Draco were together, could it? After all, Draco had already refused to join him.
"Do they know why?" he asked.
"Us," was Draco's reply. "They left a note; 'For Potter's whore'."
Harry's eyes turned gold with the sudden strong anger he felt at the insult dealt to his lover. Even there in the dungeons the faint roll of thunder could be heard. But all he said was, "That doesn't make sense. You'd already refused to join him. I'd think he'd have acted long before now, if he were going to do so."
"I don't know," Draco said in a small voice, but you could hear the beginnings of anger in it. "Maybe he thought Mother and Father were untrustworthy because of me."
"I doubt it," Harry replied comfortingly, although that made a sort of sense. Voldemort was paranoid enough that he might think that because Draco was in a relationship with 'The Boy Who Lived', that his parents might also be in collusion against him. But again, he and Draco's relationship had been going on for several weeks – why now?
As far as Harry was concerned it was 'good riddance to bad rubbish' where Lucius was concerned, although he did wonder how someone had managed to kill the man while he was in Azkaban and get out again undetected, but he hadn't known Narcissa well enough to judge. Nor did he know if Draco was mourning his mother, his father, or both. He didn't think it would be right to ask.
Harry held Draco tighter to him.
They had attended the joint Malfoy funeral, along with about half of the Order of the Phoenix as bodyguards. Wizarding funerals were quite strange. There was a ritual during which the deceased were given into the care of the gods, and then the bodies disappeared in a slow, blinding light. A plaque would be added to the wall of the Malfoy 'mausoleum' to commemorate their lives so future generations wouldn't forget them – and that was it.
Almost a week later Hermione had finished her research into Harry and Draco's situation, and although she was a bit suspicious of Harry's motives, she still thought it a hypothetical scenario.
The verdict? It would indeed be a valid marriage according to wizarding law.
She had some scornful words to say on the subject, too. Harry had heard her out, agreed with her, thanked her, then gone on his way.
But the death of Draco's parents and the subsequent scene had rather changed his views. He still wasn't sure about the long term commitment, but he'd more or less trapped himself into that when he had tricked Draco into the triple vow, hadn't he? So. A spouse. Draco. At sixteen. How strange. Surreal, really. Funny how he really didn't mind so much anymore. He wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't all that dismayed about it, either.
When he told Draco, the blond started fuming, then stormed off to his own room and refused to talk to Harry for three days – except to rail at Harry about his 'stupid, daft brainstorm' that had landed them in the situation they now found themselves in, the one time Harry sought him out in his room.
It was a very subdued-seeming Draco who finally came to Harry and once again quietly curled up next to him. Actually he was feeling a bit sheepish for having thrown a fit over something that he had halfway wanted anyway. But he had something else on his mind.
"You're going to kill that bastard, aren't you, Harry?" Draco asked quietly, his head resting on Harry's shoulder.
"Voldemort?" Harry asked.
Draco nodded.
"I hope so," Harry answered. "It's him or me, you know."
Draco was quiet for almost a full minute before he said, "I think developing your elemental abilities might help. And I can help you learn Dark magic."
"I can learn the magic," Harry said confidently, "but how do I go about 'developing' abilities I don't even know I have?"
"Remember Vaisey? There are bound to be books or journals at the manor," was Draco's resolute reply. "We can go over the hols."
The thought was disquieting to Harry, but Lucius was dead. Then again, so was Narcissa. Had they killed her there, or elsewhere?
"Will it be safe?" Harry asked simply, not wanting to bring up Draco's mother in relationship with the question.
Draco pulled back and leveled a look of disdain at him. "My father's dead, Harry," he said scornfully.
Harry sighed. He was going to have to mention it after all. "Where was your mother?" he asked.
Enlightenment dawned in Draco's eyes. "At home," he said with growing anger and trepidation. They, or someone, had the gall – the temerity! – to invade his home and murder his mother! But that they had been able to bypass the wards and protections on the estate posed questions and implications that made his head spin. His father had to have betrayed his mother by giving someone the information to bypass the wards at the Malfoy mansion – and then they had double-crossed him and killed his father, too.
Harry nodded. All right; with that information he knew what he was getting into, and they could take precautions. And while he had a strong distaste for consulting Dumbledore, he had fewer compunctions about Snape. It would, perhaps, be best if Draco were to ask for that help, though.
When the solstice holidays came, Professor Severus Snape accompanied Harry and Draco to Malfoy Manor. In the interim the young men had undergone an intensive crash course in the construction of wards and protection rituals, and how to change them. For it was almost a foregone conclusion that whoever had killed Narcissa Malfoy had to have known how to disable or otherwise get around the protections that were now in place – almost an impossibility unless they knew what they were dealing with.
It took all three of them working for five straight days to change the wards, and Harry drew on every energy source he could feel to add power to them. He rather thought Draco was doing the same. It was good practise, for he had every intention of doing similar things to the old Black mansion.
One of the wards, and the trickiest of the lot, was an old blood ward. Although it acknowledged Draco as a Malfoy, it wouldn't accept that he was the heir, and so changing its parameters failed about three-quarters of the way through the process, at which point it snapped back to its original configuration. It was Snape who finally figured it out.
Sneering at Harry, he said, "Potter, who, in your relationship, is the 'wife'?"
"I don't see how that is any of your business, Professor," Harry replied neutrally.
Even through his mask of cool aloofness, Draco's pink cheeks gave away the answer. He could control his demeanour, but not his autonomic responses.
Seeing this, and trying to save Draco's pride, Harry said, "It depends on our mood at the time." Although Harry did enjoy bottoming for Draco, he didn't do it often, and when he did it was almost always from a position of power – from above.
Ignoring Harry and maintaining his mask, Draco asked Professor Snape, "You believe that Harry might be considered the Malfoy heir?"
"If he is the dominant partner in your marriage, yes," snapped the potions master. He was going to be mightily disappointed in the blond lad if that was the case.
Without looking at his spouse (a term he wasn't quite comfortable with, but was determined to accept), Draco said, "Harry . . . try it."
Harry insisted that Draco work it with him so that both of them would be recognised by the wards, both of them adding their blood at the proper time. It worked, but Draco knew he was secondary in the work – that he was only added as a courtesy – but it did give him a measure of control over them.
As the blood ward settled into its new configuration, Draco looked expressionlessly at Snape. "My husband and I appreciate your help, Professor," he said, and then walked away in the direction of his rooms: the same rooms he and Harry had been inhabiting since they'd arrived.
Harry groaned. "He's going to be impossible for a while," he commented to nobody in particular. Although he had no problem fighting for and wielding political and social power elsewhere, he tried to refrain from using his power over Draco. It usually made life more pleasant.
He ignored Snape's unpleasant smirk. He didn't see it turn into a grimace of distaste as the man realised that his heretofore favourite pupil belonged to Potter, when it should have been the other way around – if it had to happen at all.
Professor Snape's thoughts were awhirl. He couldn't quite see how the young Malfoy could have fallen under Potter's . . . What? Influence? Allure? The magic of a triple vow wasn't usually so strong, but he'd tested the bond with various carefully and secretly cast spells, and each of them had reported the same fact; Potter and young Malfoy's bond was extremely strong, indeed. Insofar as he could ascertain, it was unbreakable. He almost felt sorry for Draco, except that the young blond man had admitted to taking the vow voluntarily. Severus had been sure the young man was hiding something, but hadn't been able to pry it from him.
Snape shuddered that anyone could find a Potter an acceptable partner, and made his way to the apparation point. He still didn't understand Lily Evans' choice.
Over the next four days Harry's prediction proved out. Draco was civil; he was polite. What Draco wasn't was warm or loving, and turned away from Harry whenever he tried to show affection of any kind.
"Damn it, Draco – it's not my fault that bloody ward thinks you're not the Malfoy heir!" Harry finally exploded.
"Isn't it?" Draco retorted. "Two words, Potter: 'triple vow'."
"All right, yes! But even so you still wouldn't have inherited until your majority!" Harry retorted.
"But I would have inherited!" Draco replied fiercely.
"And you and I would still be enemies," Harry said with soft intensity.
That caused Draco pause. Although he had come to cherish his relationship with Harry, he felt keenly the loss of something he had been raised to expect would be his. He was torn. He couldn't have it both ways, but he wanted it so. He wanted it all: Harry, his blood right... All of it. Of course the law would cede all the monies and properties to him after his parents' deaths were investigated, but he'd always know that magically, it all belonged to Harry.
Staring at Harry, into Harry's amazing green eyes, Draco, for the first time, said, "I love you," and then complained, "but why does everything always go to you?"
Harry could have reminded his lover about the Dursleys and his lousy childhood, about Voldemort attacking him every year – about the people who had died around him and the wizarding world's fickle opinion of him, but it wouldn't have been appreciated, so he kept quiet and merely pulled Draco into a hug. This time it was accepted as Draco almost melted into him.
o~~~~~~~~~~~~~o
Betas: Ishe Leigh, Sheree Spataro (who also brainstorm with me on occasion). And many thanks to Andy, who somehow finds time out of his VERY busy schedule to Brit-pick for me.