Part Five of 'Rejoicing in Their Strength'
Title: Rejoicing in Their Strength (5/7)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Rating: R
Warnings: Torture, violence, profanity, insanity, bloody animal death, character death (not Harry or Draco), creature!fic (werewolf!Harry). Takes place after DH but ignores the epilogue.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Lucius went mad after the war, and he has killed Narcissa and confined Draco to Malfoy Manor while he does magical experiments on him. Draco escapes at times by astral travel. During one of his journeys, he is astonished to find Harry Potter, who vanished after the war, living in the Forest of Dean.
Author’s Notes: This fic is rather graphic in its descriptions of the torture that Lucius inflicts on Draco. Tread with caution. It will probably be six or seven parts long.
Part One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
“Not long now, Draco.”
Lucius spoke the words warmly into his ear, while slathering a thick potion over Draco’s shoulders and arms that would make him feel as if he were being eaten alive in seven minutes. Draco began to shiver and couldn’t stop. Lucius sighed and said, “I know that you’re not cold. You must try to be courageous. The Dark magic is nearly purged from your body. You’ve been very good and very brave. All I ask is that you try to endure a little longer.”
That’s what I’m afraid I won’t be able to do, Draco thought.
When he could feel the sensations like a powerful throat closing in on him and crushing him flat to fit in a stomach, he snapped his spirit free of his body and went seeking Potter.
*
“Frankly, I don’t think it’ll work.” Celia swiped a hand through her hair, frowning. “From what Malfoy says, the wards are strong enough to keep out even changed werewolves. Why should we be able to find a way through them when we’re in human form?”
Draco winced, but tried to be satisfied with Potter’s quick reassuring glance. When he stood, all his pack’s eyes automatically followed his movements and Hyacinth lifted her head from the half-doze she’d been in. Draco settled back against a tree root and tried to look as casual as he could, even though Potter was the only one who could see or hear him when they were this far from the full moon.
“I’m not asking you to attack through the wards.” Potter paced in a circle, his eyes abstracted and his hands folded behind his back as though he were holding the leash of a dangerous animal in them. For all that Draco knew, he was. He only knew that Potter’s control over his wolf was great; he still didn’t understand the full extent of it. “I want to know about the weaknesses of the wards instead, and particularly those areas where it looks as though two or more of them are patched together to create a seamed cover.”
“I know what you mean,” Josh said, leaning forwards. “I’ve studied wards before. But if we probe at those seams-”
“You’ll alert Lucius Malfoy. I know.” Potter’s quick reassuring glance was for the werewolf this time. Draco scowled, not liking to admit how jealous that simple gesture had made him feel. “That’s why I don’t want you to probe at them, and leave in an instant if you feel that he might notice and challenge you. Simply identify them. I want to know everything you can tell me about the points on the house where they’re located, from a physical description of the stone and metal they’re covering to their direction relative to the sun and moon.”
Celia and Josh exchanged confused glances. Draco tried to look wise, then remembered that no one could see him anyway and he might as well be as hopelessly lost as the rest.
He had figured out, once he had some time away from Potter and the overwhelming rush of hope and fear and faith, that the time-dependent plan must be to attack as werewolves when the next full moon came about. But that was a problem, because the Manor had wards against werewolves, as did any ancient wizarding house. Those wards would be at the height of their strength when the full moon shone.
Potter had smiled when Draco told him that, but he hadn’t mentioned why. When Draco pressed him for details, Potter said, “If you act too hopeful, your father might figure out something is wrong.” He’d bent down towards Draco, his eyes so bright and so deep that it was difficult to look at him. “Do you think you would be able to keep the secret of what we’re going to do hidden from his Legilimency? Be honest, now.”
Draco had admitted that he wasn’t sure, and Potter had reached out and brushed his hand through Draco’s shoulder in that way that tended to leave a trail of tingles behind. “Then I’m going to ask you to trust me for right now, and respect that, eventually, we’ll rescue you.”
“He wants us to trust him,” Hyacinth said in her deep voice, her eyes turning wolf-yellow in the sunlight. She put her head back down on her hands, which she treated rather like forepaws at times, and blinked around at Celia, Josh, and Leila. “To trust him absolutely, in the way that we keep promising we do and in the way that Malfoy has to, and to do what he asks without demanding every single detail.”
“I think we could have figured that out on our own, Hyacinth,” Celia said in a brittle voice that made Hyacinth’s eyes deepen a shade or two. Draco heard a light snarl working its way up her throat, and doubted Celia would have said any of that if she’d been closer to Potter’s second-in-command. “But I at least want to know the reason that Harry is so intent on hiding this from us.”
“Very well.”
Potter tossed his head back and let his strength go flooding over the clearing. Draco was glad, once again, that no one could see or hear his response, which included a needy whimper. The rest of the pack stood up or crowded closer, eager whines breaking from their lips. Potter held them like that for a series of endless moments that made Draco think he’d lose his breath from panting, and then released his strength.
The rest of the pack looked faintly embarrassed, except for Hyacinth. She gave Potter a nod and a smile that made Draco think she’d wag her tail if she possessed one in this form.
“So far,” Potter said, looking from one to the other of them with a gaze that made them lower their heads, “Hyacinth and I are the only ones who can do that reliably. I felt you trying to do it on the last hunt, Leila, but you got distracted and it faltered.” Leila gave him a hesitant smile. “That sharing of strength links us as a pack. We’re more likely to act in concert when we can respond to each other’s power. But because the rest of you tend to follow at my heels instead of carrying your strength around you constantly in a fanned-out umbrella, then I’m the one who has to do the most thinking and acting. And you imitate me instead of being able to act independently.”
Celia started to protest. “Hyacinth was able to run ahead during the hunt and break the doe’s back-”
“And she was the only one.” Potter looked at her until she sighed and nodded. “I want all of you able to do that, to carry out your own decisions in wolf form and let us know, through the medium of that connected strength, what you’re doing and which direction you’re moving. It’s vitally important that you learn how to do that before we can rescue Draco. And I don’t want to tell you more than that because it’ll lead into discordance between your wolves-which want to do what I command-and your human selves-which are used to comparing a leader’s decisions with your own inclinations. For the moment, you have to work with your power and extend it to each other as well as to me. And trust me.”
“Behave like wolves with the intelligence of humans,” Leila muttered.
“Isn’t that what we are, after all?” Potter tossed her a smile.
No, Draco could have said. There was also the side of the wolf that was mindless hunger and didn’t act like a pack beast. But simply by choosing to be here and following Potter, Draco suspected that most of them had grown past that stage and didn’t need to be reminded that it existed.
Most of them, maybe. He glanced sideways at Hyacinth.
That was another reason Potter refused to explain his plan, he reckoned. The belief that a werewolf could balance control of the human and control of the wolf wasn’t a common one, and was the reason that so many of them became weaklings or monsters, from Potter’s point-of-view. He was trying to maintain an even more delicate balance at the moment, forcing his pack to put their beliefs into practice. Over-explaining it would ruin that element of belief that was crucial to achieving the sharing of power. Potter needed to make it sound simple, not complicated, although it was an aspect of the complicated things that he asked his pack to do every day.
And I think that I understand it, even though it hurts my head. Draco ran a hand through his hair, wishing absently that he could feel things. It would make it easier to feel like he was accomplishing something when he was angry or upset.
It seemed that Potter had noticed his distressed expression. He said quietly, “Celia, Josh, step into the woods and practice walking silently. It’ll be best if you go near the wards around Malfoy Manor with as little magic as possible. Leila, if you would read this?” He held out a heavy book that Draco hadn’t seen the last time he was here. “Hermione gave it to me, and I can’t understand half the moves it suggests for finding the seams in wards and exploiting them.”
Leila accepted and opened the book. “Where would you be without my vocabulary?” she teased.
“A place that I don’t like to think about,” Potter said, turning her joking statement into a serious one, and giving her a dazzling smile that caused Draco to glance away. It didn’t matter that Potter was doing all this to rescue Draco; he knew that Potter still cared more strongly about his pack. Draco wasn’t a werewolf, after all.
Leila, not smiling now, nodded back to Potter, a formal bob of her head that looked like a bow, and began to read.
Potter turned to Hyacinth.
“You’ll need to go into the most isolated part of the forest for this,” he told her. “If you spread your power too near the edges of the woods, you know that other wizards will feel it. And we don’t want to make the Muggles uneasy and inspire someone to come investigate rumors of large dogs running wild. Concentrate as hard as you can. Remember that you need to be able to prevent it from soaring out like a net to touch everything in sight.” He stroked the back of Hyacinth’s neck. “My power is greater than yours, but your range is wider, and you need to gain that fine edge of control.”
Hyacinth nodded with a slow blink of her eyes, as if she were absorbing Potter’s words on a deeper level than mere speech. In a moment, she had risen to her feet and padded away into the woods-more silently than Celia and Josh could yet move, Draco noticed.
Potter looked straight at him and beckoned.
“You want me to follow the big bad wolf into the forest?” Draco asked lightly, but he floated to his feet with a sense of relief. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with the pack. They were rescuing him only because Potter demanded it, he knew. At least he had the sense that Potter was more interested in him as a person.
Or victim, he reminded himself, but still his hope was fresher and brighter as he followed Potter around the trunks of oaks and pines until they could no longer see Leila reading the book.
Potter sat down on a stump, and Draco drifted down onto the grass in front of him. Potter held his eyes for long moments, and said, “You’ve told us about all the weak places that you know of in the wards?”
“Yes,” Draco said. “And I have to tell you, my father knows about the weakness of seams and how to counteract them, and he has wards that specifically fight werewolves.”
“I know that,” Potter said. “I don’t distrust you. I simply wanted to make sure that nothing else had occurred to you since we last spoke.” He slid to the foot of the stump, propping one elbow on it and putting his hand beneath his chin as he stared at Draco.
Draco cleared his throat uneasily. It made sense that Potter would share serious moments with his pack, since he had known them for so long and had all sorts of history with them that Draco didn’t know about. But his trying to have moments like that with Draco pleased and frightened and irritated him.
Of course, after so long with Lucius, Draco sometimes wondered if there was anything he didn’t fear anymore.
“Potter, why do you care so much?” he had to ask. “Would you care this much if one of your friends, or someone you were indifferent to in school, came to you and asked for help?”
“If it were one of my friends, I would feel guilt, because I should have been aware of it and noticed the changes in their behavior,” Potter said quietly. He was staring Draco in the eye again. “If it was someone I had been indifferent to, I would care once I figured out what was wrong, but not so much.”
“Then why with me?” Draco tried to look haughty. “Is it because you enjoyed seeing me struggle against my pride before I finally decided to accept your help?”
“How could that be, when I didn’t know you were fighting a struggle or that you hadn’t already told the truth to someone else?” Potter tipped his head forwards so that his hair fell across his eyes. Draco was at once relieved and a bit disappointed. “No. I care more because-because before I knew something was wrong, you watched us hunt, and you were fascinated. And you’re fascinated now, I can see it. You notice every time I do something that has a hint of the wolf to it. You respond. I can’t help but enjoy someone who enjoys my pack.” Potter looked up, his face wistful. “My friends have been wonderful, but they just don’t look at it the same way you do. Hermione pities me and wants to work on a cure. Ron believes in me but only because I was already his friend, not because he really thinks that a werewolf can change. A few people they’ve hinted the truth to are horrified. I’ve accepted reality, because the wolf is so powerful in you that it’s like learning to live with a new limb-or the loss of one. Everyone else still sees the wolf as something extra attached to me that they’d like to pull off.”
He leaned forwards and reached out to put a hand on Draco’s knee before he remembered. “Except you.”
Draco let his eyelashes veil his eyes. He had to remind himself that, unlike everyone else he had watched in his astral form, there was a chance-there must be a chance-that he and Potter would meet in the flesh someday. When that happened, Draco didn’t want him to be disappointed.
“One of the reasons I like watching you so much is that I’m attracted to power,” he confessed. “It’s not-it’s not pure and detached in the way that you’re making it sound, Potter. I want power, too. It’s one of the reasons that I waited so long before I talked to you about my situation. I wanted the power of keeping the secret and fooling you with lies.”
“I don’t care,” Potter said. “Other people with better motivations than yours still can’t bring themselves to respond the way you did. I think-I think I care more about the consequences in this case than the reason behind those actions.” He eased closer, his stare direct into Draco’s eyes again.
Draco looked away and said lightly, “I’m not a wolf. You don’t have to try and prove to me that you’re dominant.”
“I don’t want to.” Potter left it at that, and Draco had to wonder if he meant that he wasn’t trying to prove he was dominant or that he was doing it even though he didn’t want to.
I think Potter has better control of his wolf than that, Draco decided, because anything else would be too frightening, and asked, “What do you think will happen when you rescue me?”
“We’ll give you what you want, of course.” Potter eased back on his heels, and when Draco looked at him again, he was gazing out into the forest, his arms folded so that his hands hung down on his knees. “We’ll take you to the Ministry if you want, or St. Mungo’s if you think that would be better. Or we can take you to a friend’s house if you have anyone who would shelter you.”
“St. Mungo’s would probably be best,” Draco admitted, though he winced at the thought of what the Healers would say when they saw his wounds. He didn’t think some of the things Lucius had done to him could ever be healed. But at least he would be free, with the chance to find magic that might help him. “I won’t be walking out of the Manor.”
Potter looked back at him with a softened face. “Of course not.”
They sat in silence for some time after that, when Potter had asked again if Draco remembered any additional facts about the wards and Draco had admitted that he couldn’t think of anything. Potter folded his arms behind his head and basked in the sunlight with his face pointed directly at it and his eyes closed. Draco watched him, and took in the strength that crackled around him as best he could, an antidote to the horror that waited for him in the back of his mind and the memory of his muscles.
If he cares about me inappropriately, I also care about him inappropriately. Draco knew he would be quite content to remain by Potter’s side and watch him act the beautiful, dangerous wild animal for years.
And he had no idea why.
*
“The cure is almost complete, Draco.”
Draco looked down at the shreds of his left leg and wondered if he should try to learn something from Lucius, something that might help Potter when his pack came to raid the Manor. Unfortunately, Lucius’s madness almost never wandered in directions that would be comprehensible to anyone else, and Draco could hardly think through the pain that enveloped him in a shroud.
He did manage to pluck up the courage and the words to say, “Why do you think you’re so close to the antidote to the Dark magic, sir?”
Lucius smiled and stroked his hair. Draco had to look away. He would see the father who had held him when he was born and praised his first efforts at magic if he kept gazing at Lucius now.
“I have at last removed most of your tainted magical core, and replaced it with the stronger, purer magic that will save your life,” Lucius explained. His hand never stopped petting Draco, moving from his hair to his face. His fingers dipped into the hole in Draco’s cheekbone, and Draco shut his eyes and tried not to cry out. He had to remain in his body long enough to listen to this, pain or no pain. It was the closest Lucius had ever come to stating his goals outright. “There are a few patches of dark, stubborn power that I cannot yet eliminate without killing you.” Lucius’s fingers curved downwards and jerked, and Draco heard the sound of the hole ripping wider. “But do not worry,” Lucius finished, seeming not to understand that his fingers had expressed his anger and that Draco was more than worried. “Those patches should be done away with in a few weeks’ time. There is one particularly powerful spell that I can only perform on the night of the full moon, and we must wait for that.”
Draco let his spirit leap free from his body as Lucius dragged him towards the spiked bed set up in the corner of the room. He had discovered information that would prove helpful to Potter and the rest of his pack. He clung to that triumph and endeavored to forget about the agony that was coiling through his physical being, far behind and below him.
*
“That is wonderful news.”
Draco stared, not understanding. He had expected his warning about the night of the full moon to anger or worry Potter, who surely didn’t need any more complications added to what sounded like a very complex plan already. But instead Potter was prowling back and forth in front of him with his eyes brilliant with enthusiasm. He spun around to face Draco, and he spun on his heels in a movement that no human had ever performed so gracefully-though Draco had to admit that he couldn’t imagine a wolf performing it, either.
“Don’t you see?” Potter asked. “If Lucius is involved with a powerful spell that night, he will have less attention to spare for us.”
“I don’t know,” Draco said. “When the attack begins, he could drop the spell and focus on you, and he’ll be all the angrier for being interrupted. Or he might kill me.”
He had to turn his face from Potter, because he knew emotions that he didn’t want to show would be flickering across his expression. He was no longer able to regard his own death with indifference, which was the thing that he hated most about having hope.
“He might,” Potter said. “Or the spell might go wrong when he gets distracted and do something unexpected and horrible to you.”
Draco stared at him in shock. Potter didn’t sound at all concerned, and Draco didn’t understand that. “You-I thought you cared about what happened to me,” he said, his voice coming out with difficulty. “If only because I respond better to you than so many other people would.”
In a moment, Potter abandoned his pacing and knelt down in front of Draco with terrifying swiftness. His eyes were bright and tender, and he swiped at Draco’s cheek with one hand. Draco recoiled before remembering that this form didn’t show the hole in his face, and that Potter couldn’t hurt him even if it did.
“I’m sorry,” Potter whispered. “Part of the problem is knowing how much I should explain to you and how much I shouldn’t. And I don’t want to favor you over my own pack, while being conscious of the impulse to do so.” Draco narrowed his eyes, wanting to discuss how that had come about, but Potter was babbling on. “I think our best chance lies in Lucius’s madness. No matter what he does that night, I don’t think he’ll respond rationally, while my pack should be able to respond more than rationally if we all learn to extend our strength to one another.” He paused reflectively.
“And I would do anything to avoid seeing you hurt,” he said. “Anything.”
Draco bowed his head. The forest was whirling around him. Potter’s green-golden eyes, his intense stares, the lowered tone of his voice…Draco had once imagined the last two things in a distinctly different context, with a distinctly different face.
It would be typical of my life that the closest I’ll ever get to the protective and possessive lover I’ve dreamed of is Harry Potter, he thought dazedly.
“Draco?” Potter’s voice was tender again, but a bit louder.
Draco swallowed and opened his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said. “What have you discovered about the wards?”
Potter paused and then began to explain, but all the while, he sat far too close and kept reaching out his hand so that his fingers brushed through Draco’s astral form, causing infuriating tingles.
Draco, who knew that this didn’t have a chance of lasting, reckoned that he would just have to endure that, too.
Part Six.