No Light Without Shadows
by Draeconin
See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.
Chapter Thirteen
Draco let Harry sleep in while he got ready for the day. Then he leaned over the bed and kissed Harry awake. He would have preferred to lay down next to his husband, but he was avoiding getting his robes wrinkled.
"Wake up, you great lummox," Draco said fondly.
"Mmm..." Harry hummed, his arms coming up to haul Draco down to him.
"We don't have time, Harry," Draco said with a little laugh, catching Harry's wrists and preventing the move. "We have classes, first thing. Now get up, or you'll miss breakfast. I'll meet you there."
Harry's pout was so cute. But the erection he put Draco's hand on was anything but. It could be described as powerful, sleek, beautiful, and a handful of other adjectives – but cute? Never.
Draco smiled to himself on the way up to the Great Hall. With the mood Harry was in, they'd have missed breakfast, and at least their first class. And he had been so tempted! In fact he had to stop in to an empty storage closet for a quick one off at the wrist before he could continue on to breakfast.
He sat at his usual place at the Slytherin table. It looked like Harry might not be the last one up. Over half of Slytherin was there, but it was mostly the younger years. Pansy and a few other upper years were there, though. And according to what he was overhearing, the pug-faced girl hadn't noticed his arrival. (Almost a shame, that – if Draco had been inclined that way. He had been sure she'd have grown out of those looks as she got older.)
Pansy, as usual, had her mouth flapping, although Daphne Greengrass, her audience, didn't seem to be paying much attention.
"I'm telling you, Daphne, it's such a waste!" Pansy proclaimed.
"What is?"
"Draco!"
"What of him?" Daphne asked, who had caught a glimpse of Draco over Pansy's shoulder. She didn't let on.
"Well, he's a pouf, isn't he?"
"Yeah. . . . So?"
"Well if he absolutely must be queer, why does it have to be Potter he's with?" Pansy complained. "Mind you, I still think I'd be a much better match for him."
"You're missing vital equipment, Pansy, dear," Draco drawled.
"Oh!" Pansy exclaimed, quickly spinning in place to face him, her face turning an unlovely shade of red. "D-Draco. When did you get here?"
"Too soon, evidently," the blond replied dryly.
Pansy shot Daphne a glare, to which Daphne returned a sweet little smile – pure saccharine.
Bolstering her courage, Pansy turned back to Draco.
"Well, it's true!" she said defensively.
"Yes, it is," Draco agreed to her vague exclamation. Pansy started to preen, only to be brought down by Draco's next words, clarifying his statement. "You have nothing I want."
A few of those within earshot snickered at Draco's shot. Pansy shot a quick glare around her to let them know she didn't appreciate it – not that many paid her the slightest bit of attention.
Irritated, Pansy said, "Blaise says Potter's fucking you," in an attempt to gain a bit of revenge by revealing this bit of information in public.
"Blaise has a big mouth," Draco muttered.
"So it's true, then?" Pansy asked, a bit disgruntled by the apparent confirmation.
Draco shrugged. "Whether it is or not is none of your concern, Pan-Pan," he said, using his childhood name for her, pointing out her childish behaviour.
Draco spotted Harry coming in the Great Hall doors – far too soon to have travelled that distance normally unless... No, Harry's hair was wet – almost dripping, as a matter of fact. So if he had showered, he must have shadow jumped to get here so soon. It still must have been a very quick shower, though.
"But why Potter?" Pansy shrilled.
She had known he and Harry were together since they'd met at the train station. It was remarkable to Draco that he hadn't heard of her discontent on the subject before now – not that it mattered to him. But Draco merely bent his wrist in Harry's direction, pointing with a languid finger.
Pansy looked, as did almost everyone who had been paying attention, and not a few followed Pansy's lead when her jaw dropped open.
Although their school robes usually hid all but a vague outline of what was beneath them, Madam Malkin had been so taken with Harry's developing figure that she'd done some sewing magic (of the skill, rather than the occult variety), and Harry's outline wasn't quite so vague as all that. That, plus Harry's now-shoulder-length hair brushed back behind his ears, made a very striking picture.
Draco picked up Pansy's napkin and pushed her jaw back up (he wasn't about to use his own for the purpose), and wiped up the bit of drool that had leaked out.
"I believe my reasons are self-evident?" Draco calmly remarked, tossing Pansy's napkin in her lap. True, Harry's present physique was a recent development, but it was easier to use that as his excuse than to try to explain the truth – not only the triple vow, but that Draco had been mastered by the other young man and had, against all sense, liked it.
Pansy, her eyes glazed, nodded dazedly – again copied by a couple of others within earshot.
Harry came up behind Draco and kissed his husband's neck. "G'morning, love," he whispered into Draco's ear. "Talking about me?"
"Harry!" Draco hissed. "How many times do I have to tell you: not in public?" Still, he couldn't quite keep the pleased smile from his face. A glance towards Pansy showed her still staring at his Harry, along with too many others.
"Sorry," Harry said as he seated himself, not sounding it in the least.
A retching sound from across the Hall caught Harry's attention. Ron. Harry caught the redhead's eye, then looked to the plate that had just appeared in front of him, dismissing the incident, and Ron, as unimportant.
Strange, though, that he hadn't thought of them in so long. Come to think of it, wasn't he supposed to have met Neville and a few others in Hogsmeade? What had happened to that?
Ah, yes. Draco's parents getting murdered, and the egg that had contained Scáthfánaí. It had been a very busy time. He'd have to see about extending an invitation to them to make up for it. Harry was mildly disappointed that he'd missed that meeting, but Draco had needed him more. And then the next Hogsmeade weekend had turned into a 'date' just for he and Draco alone. It had been very enjoyable, despite the teasing of some brave souls.
Scathi, as Harry had decided to call him, since Scáthfánaí's full name was a bit unwieldy, should be developed enough to accompany him now, too.
"Keep your eyes to yourself, Parkinson, and the rest of you lot," Draco said. "He's taken." Draco was trying to look calmly matter-of-fact, but his tense stance gave his jealous anger away.
Hm? Harry looked around, and found that quite a few people were staring at him. It wasn't a situation he was new to, but it was never one he'd been comfortable with. Today? Bugger them. Harry took Draco's hand, gave it a squeeze, and then continued with his meal: eggs fried in butter – almost deep fried, from the looks of them – lean bacon, bangers, fried tomatoes, and toasted bagels, which Harry preferred with butter and redcurrant jelly.
Draco, Harry noted, used clotted cream on his bagel, and although he had eaten at least a little of the lean bacon, Draco was carefully avoiding the more greasy fare.
Leaning close, Harry quietly murmured, "Queasy?"
Draco scowled at him, but didn't reply.
"We'll get you something better, later," Harry said in the same low tones.
Embarrassed, Draco whispered, "Shut it," but gave Harry's arm a grateful squeeze.
Harry slipped a bagel from his plate to Draco's – which promptly landed back on his own plate.
"If you're not going to eat those bangers, I'll have them," Harry said, spearing the sausages, and incidentally slipping the bagel back onto Draco's plate. This time it stayed, and a little while later, was being consumed.
"You're not eating?" Gregory said to Draco, finally showing up to table.
"And 'good morning' to you, too. Where's Vincent?" Draco asked in abrupt tones.
"He'll be along shortly," Greg said, sitting down.
"Bloody good bodyguards you lot make," Draco grumbled.
"Huh!" Greg said dismissively. "As if you need us any longer." Greg's plate appeared in front of him, which he promptly filled, and dug in.
Draco paled, and turned away from the sight.
Harry slipped Draco's stolen sausages to Greg.
"Thanks, mate," Greg said, hardly slowing down.
"I can't be with him all the time," Harry said quietly. "So in light of the 'accident' Draco suffered a few weeks ago, I'd appreciate it if you'd tighten it up a bit."
Greg shrugged as he stuffed yet another mouthful in his gob.
Harry caught Greg's arm as it was scooping another forkful. Several people held their breaths, as anyone who had tried that before had wound up with – at best – dislocated fingers or a sprained wrist. Even Draco had been chary of such an action.
Greg's eyes lit on Harry's hand, and traveled up to Harry's face. But instead of the expected mayhem, Greg paled, then nodded. "Sure, Harry. Sorry if we've been getting lax," he said.
"Thank you," Harry said quietly, then removed his hand from Greg's sleeve, and started mopping up the last of his egg.
A loud sigh was heard as many people let out pent-up breaths at the same time. Harry's reputation had just gone up yet another notch.
"Y- You're welcome," Greg said, gulping. He didn't think he'd ever get used to looking into Harry's eyes when they went gold.
"You might want to eat up," Harry suggested. "Breakfast will be over, soon."
"S-sure..." Somehow, though, Greg seemed to have lost his appetite.
"I want it worked out between the three of us so that at least one of us is with Draco at all times," Harry said quietly.
"I'm not a child, Harry," Draco said rebelliously.
"You'd have had it if I weren't around, wouldn't you?" Harry asked.
"Not without Father . . . to enforce it," Draco replied quietly, his voice hitching a bit at the remembrance of his dead parents.
"Yes. Well, now you have me," Harry said firmly.
Draco didn't reply. He was still feeling a bit rebellious, but his cheeks were a bit pinked, too. With that one sentence, Harry had publicly laid claim to him, more or less stating that he'd taken Lucius' place as the person to whom Draco should look. It had been known that they were in a relationship, and Harry's claim may have been assumed before, but now it had been spoken. And Draco couldn't do anything about it without breaking things off with Harry – something he wasn't prepared to do – or something he was sure he could do, even had he wished to.
"Bloody hell," Pansy breathed when the silence had stretched on beyond any reasonable limit, and Draco hadn't renounced Harry's claim on him.
Harry had been watching Draco's face, wondering about his lover's expression, but now his gaze shifted to Pansy.
"Likely, yes," he said, mild curiosity on his face.
"He's really yours?" Pansy asked Harry, glancing once at Draco to indicate whom she meant.
Draco's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.
"We're together, but you already knew that," Harry replied.
"But you've made . . . a commitment?" she asked.
Harry's cheeks pinked, now. "Oh. That," he said. Then after a second, he shrugged. "We've taken vows, if that's what you mean," he said.
"What sort of vows, Potter?" a harder voice broke in.
Harry looked carefully at the speaker. "What's your interest, Nott?" he asked.
"Answer the question," Theodore demanded.
"I don't think I will," Harry replied mildly. Under his breath, Harry cast "Protego" around Draco and him.
Harry thought that the only way Theodore would be demanding anything of him would be if he expected to intimidate him, or intended to attack him if his unvoiced 'or else' was defied. Harry didn't think Theodore was so egotistical as to believe he could intimidate him, therefore Nott must be planning to attack.
Stymied, Nott stood and looked at Harry, nervously looked around, then with nothing to back him up but bravado, said, "You'll get yours, Harry Potter," and walked quickly away.
Well, Harry thought, feeling a little foolish, I never claimed to be infallible. But Nott's attitude was waving a tiny red flag at him, and Harry made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the boy.
"What was that all about, then?" Vincent asked, finally strolling up.
Harry just rolled his eyes. "You explain it, Greg," he said as he removed the shield spell he'd cast earlier.
"And while you're about it," he continued, "you might tell Vince, here, how I feel about slackers."
"Yes, sir," Greg said, and shuddered.
Ignoring Vincent's inane questions, Harry said, "I'll expect the both of you at my rooms after classes – about four – so we can work out a schedule."
"Yes, sir," Greg repeated. Vince just looked confused.
"Just do your best for today," Harry instructed.
Draco had remained silent throughout all of this, but not uninterested. He was feeling a little humiliated, but it was fascinating to watch Harry work. And, of course, he'd had his wand hidden up his sleeve throughout the Nott incident, just in case it was needed.
Once they were out of the Great Hall, Harry asked, "What was all that 'sirring' about?"
"You were rather throwing a lot of orders about, Harry," Draco replied.
"Was I?" Harry thought about it. "I suppose I was," he admitted. "Still," Harry went on after a short pause, "I wouldn't have expected him to react that way."
"You should be glad he did," Draco remarked. "You're going to need a power base."
Harry snorted. "While I'll admit that Vince and Greg are strong, I'd hardly think of them as the basis of a power base," he said. He had found that quite a lot of Draco's bodyguards' 'stupidity' was just an act, including their poor table manners, but the two were rather greedy, and couldn't be classed as geniuses, either. They were, rather, of an average intelligence.
Draco shrugged. "You need a seed before a tree can grow," he remarked.
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "When did you start getting philosophical?" he asked with a smile.
Draco threw him a disdainful glance. "Shows what you know," he retorted.
Harry grinned fondly at him, pulling his lover to him for a quick side hug. Then they were at Draco's first class. Harry kissed Draco's brow, then went on to his own first class.
"This here, then," Hagrid said, waving a plate-sized hand towards a large, canvas-covered object, "is yer basic basilisk."
At that pronouncement there was at least one quickly-stifled scream, and quite a lot of muttering and uneasy movement. And if there had been the slightest hint of movement under that tarpaulin, Hagrid would have been looking at an empty field.
Seeming not to notice, Hagrid went on to say, "This'n's stuffed, o' course. Quite rare beasties, fortunately fer us. Our own 'Arry Potter killed this'n a couple years back. It were 'bout a thousan' years old 'r so at th' time." The half-giant beamed at Harry as he said that. Harry deliberately didn't notice.
"Now, I'm goin' t' remove the tarp'lin," he warned, "but ye needn't worry 'bout nuthin' – the eyes'r glass."
Even with Hagrid's warning and reassurances, there were even more screams when the huge snake came into view, and two pupils even fainted.
Harry found himself pale and tense as he viewed this old adversary from his past. But as he continued to regard it, he found the fear and apprehension fading quickly into the past, along with the dead basilisk. This wasn't a basilisk any longer, anyway; it was just a stuffed skin. The taxidermist had even reattached the fang that had broken off in his arm.
Harry unconsciously rubbed the spot.
One nod had been made to Harry's past with this basilisk, though; a replica of the Sword of Gryffindor was sticking up through the top of the basilisk's mouth and out the top of its skull.
After most of the class had recovered from their fright, Hagrid continued his class, delineating every known fact about basilisks in general, and taking great relish in reciting Harry's history with this one in particular.
The fearful, respectful, and even admiring glances that were sent Harry's way weren't lost on him, but he didn't acknowledge them. He'd only done what he had to do at the time.
After the class, Harry approached Hagrid.
Looking at the large snake, Harry asked, "When did his happen, then?"
"Ol' Dumbledore had it commissioned," Hagrid replied.
Harry nodded. Of course. It would be, wouldn't it? Still, he couldn't complain. It wasn't his basilisk after all, even though he did feel a bit proprietary towards it.
"Took most'a time 'tween then and now to get the work done, an' that was after Perfesser Snape had a go at it," Hagrid said. "Not e'en t' skin's real. Jus' t' skull and bones, most o' 'em."
"Harvested some parts, did he?" Harry inquired, knowing full well that if the skin was still whole, it was only because someone had been there beating the potions master off it.
"Aye," Hagrid replied simply. "Took 'im three months o' steady work, too. Dumbledore sent t' skin off t' be tanned an' made inta battle robes 'n' such."
Harry nodded, his mind racing. He had been needing a place where he could practice some of the less savoury magic he was learning without danger of discovery or interruption. The Chamber of Secrets, now that the basilisk corpse was out of it, would be ideal. And he was going to make sure . . . well, try to make sure that two of those battle robes were for Draco and him.
"No sign of other basilisks down there, then?" Harry asked.
Hagrid gave a short bark of a laugh. "You c'n be sure ol' Dumbledore made sure o' that afore he 'lowed anyone down there."
"How did they get down there?" Insofar as Harry knew, there was only the one entry, in the abandoned girl's bathroom, and that one required Parseltongue be spoken to open it.
"Through t' outside tunnel, o' course." Suddenly Hagrid looked a bit apprehensive.
"Oh. I should'n 'ave said that," Hagrid said. "Yeh won' say I tole ya, will yeh 'Arry?"
At Harry's reassurance that Hagrid's slip was safe with him, Hagrid relaxed, and said, "Anyway, great beastie like that'n 'ud need more'n rats to feed up on, eh? 'Course it had access t' Forest."
"So it just nested down there?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore figgers it was only there 'cause Tom called it," Hagrid said conspiratorially.
"So it wasn't nesting there?"
"Naw," Hagrid said, waving off the suggestion. "Too wet, I'm thinkin'."
"Hm . . . Thank you, Hagrid," Harry said. "A very interesting class. I'm afraid I have to dash, though. Draco's expecting me."
Hagrid shook his head wonderingly. "'T's a wonder t' me how you'n he wound up together, 'Arry, after all those years o' scrappin'."
Harry gave him a faint grin and a shrug. Then with a wave, he ran off. As soon as he was fairly sure he wouldn't be seen, and he'd found a suitable shadow, he shadow jumped.
He was only seconds later than he would have been, and found Draco waiting rather impatiently in the corridor.
"Boo!" Harry said quietly in Draco's ear.
The blond jumped. Then, annoyed, he turned and poked Harry in the chest. "Very amusing, Mister Ghost," he said. "Where were you?"
"Renewing old acquaintances," Harry said with a wry grin.
"Who?" Draco demanded to know.
Harry's grin faded as he said, "That basilisk from second year. Dumbledore had it stuffed, and Hagrid used it in class."
Draco looked intrigued. "Any chance I could have a look?" he asked.
Harry frowned slightly at his lover's interest, then shrugged. "Come on, then," he said, taking Draco's hand and leading the way.
Even though they were out where anyone could see, Draco wanted nothing more than to huddle into Harry's arms as he looked at the stuffed basilisk.
Hagrid had to uncover it again, but seeing that it was Harry who asked...
"You . . . fought that thing – when we were only twelve?" Draco marveled. "And to think of all the times I twitted you..."
"And insulted, and bunged up, and—"
Draco smacked Harry's arm, shutting him up. "All right!" he said, blushing a bit.
That night Harry received a visitor. Draco was there, too, but Blaise had no interest in his erstwhile friend.
"There you are!" Blaise said rather inanely.
"What can I help you with, Blaise?" Harry asked.
"It's that bloody redheaded friend of yours!" Blaise exclaimed.
Harry assumed a sorrowful look. "Didn't work out? I'm so sor—"
"It worked out fine," Blaise revealed, to Harry's – and Draco's – -surprise. "But how do you get rid of the twit?"
Harry broke out laughing. "You mean he actually went for it?" he asked incredulously. "Then what's wrong?"
"He's a bloody peasant, is what's wrong," Blaise revealed.
This time it was Draco who broke out in peals of laughter. "I could have told you that years ago!" he chortled.
Blaise ignored Draco, and complained, "His table manners are atrocious, and he won't even try to improve them, he ruins all the clothing I buy him – I thought it was just because his family was poor! – and he snores! Not only that, but he bloody snorts in his sleep! He's a boor! And lazy! And his idea of conversation is that bloody Quidditch team he so adores!"
"The Chudley Cannons?" Harry suggested.
"The very one!" Blaise agreed. "So how do I get rid of him?"
"You might try insulting his family," Draco suggested dryly. "It's always worked for me."
"But I rather like the rest of the family," Blaise admitted. "They're a bit common, but they're good-hearted sorts. It's only Ron I can't stand."
"What about the twins?" Harry asked with a grin. So far he agreed with Blaise, though.
"Oh. Them," Blaise said dismissively. "Get past their bag of tricks, and they're rather amusing, really."
"Do they know you've been dating their Ronniekins?" Draco asked with mischievous glee.
Blaise looked a bit uncomfortable at that. "Not really, no," he admitted. "We've been passing each other off as just a new friend. Ron's idea, actually."
Harry snorted – in a genteel fashion, of course. "He would," he remarked. "But the two of you – you've actually . . .?"
Blaise nodded, not in the least bit fazed to reveal intimate details. "That was the only good thing about him. He rode my cock like a champion!"
Harry's eyebrows tried to reach his hairline, and then both he and Draco lost it, laughing like a pair of loons.
Blaise waited it out, his arms crossed, tapping one foot impatiently. Finally he said, "If you two are quite through making light of my pain?"
"Besides which," Blaise continued unwisely, "I'd bet you could say the same of Draco."
Suddenly he found himself held by the throat, his toes just making contact with the floor, and looking into a very angry pair of gold eyes.
"Urgle," he said.
"Harry," Draco said conversationally, "I believe he said 'urgle'. Isn't that foreign for 'I can't breathe'?"
"It might be," Harry agreed through gritted teeth. "But isn't he turning just the most interesting colours?"
"Quite," Draco agreed. "Still, I'd rather not have to stop in to Azkaban to see you. I haven't a thing to wear that would fit in, there."
"There is that," Harry said, slowly lowering Blaise to the floor. The boy had no strength in his legs, and wound up seated on his calves.
Blaise stared up at Harry with wide-open eyes as he tried to get his breath back. It had been so fast! He had hardly seen Harry move. And Harry had only used one arm, and that one hadn't even trembled with the effort it must have taken, insofar as he could tell. Of course he'd been fighting to breathe at the time, so he mightn't have noticed.
"Are you all right?" Harry finally asked when Blaise' efforts to breathe eased up. He didn't sound all that concerned, actually.
Blaise nodded, saving his efforts for drawing in more air. He had never before quite appreciated how wonderful breathing could be.
"I suggest you not dwell on my or Draco's private life, in future," Harry said.
Blaise nodded again, a bit more energetically this time.
Harry went back over and sat next to Draco, then looked at Blaise, who had yet to try to rise.
"As for Ron," Harry continued as though nothing untoward had happened, "I'm afraid you're on your own. Perhaps if you show yourself around the school with other dates, he'll get the hint. I doubt he'll be too broken up, as he probably has a chit on the side."
Blaise nodded yet again, a hint of gratitude for the suggestion in his eyes, despite the very deep respect – aka fear – that Harry had just inspired in him.
"It's been a nice interlude, Blaise," Harry said. "It's too bad you must leave so soon."
Blaise took the hint.
"Draco," Harry said musingly after Blaise had gone, "what the hell am I becoming?"
o~~~~~~~~~o~~~~~~~~~o
A/N: Draco and Pansy scene suggested by 'Lightning Strike'.
Betas: Sheree S. Brit-picker: Andy