Chapter Thirty of "Acts of Life"- Provoking
Chapter Twenty-Nine.
Title: Acts of Life (30/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, eventual Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, some violence
Summary: That Harry returned Draco’s wand to him was only one small act in a life, one thing that he might have done or not done. But more acts succeed that one, and Harry and Draco find themselves sharing more and more of them.
Author’s Notes: Despite the angst warning, this story is more fluffy than anything else, and is episodic. It will be updated every Monday.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Thirty-Provoking
“You’re going to do fine.”
Draco shut his eyes and leaned back into Harry’s hands. They sculpted his robes around his shoulders as though Harry was the one actually dressing him. Draco immediately put that thought away in the back of his mind for later.
He murmured, “I don’t know why I’m the nervous one. You’re going to appear in front of a bunch of important people with a former Death Eater on your arm. You’re the one who stands to lose a lot of social reputation from this. My reputation is already as stained as it can be.” He turned around and smiled at Harry, who smiled back at him, regal and slow.
Draco knew Harry was tired of hearing it, but he really did think Harry looked regal in his green robes edged with gold. Harry had only said that he’d picked them out because he liked them. Draco thought Harry did have a sense of appreciation for how he looked in dress robes, just one that he muted because otherwise it would make him feel immodest or something.
Another thought to keep to himself. “You’re not nervous at all?” he added, as Harry touched his shoulder and smoothed down a wrinkle again.
Harry tilted his head at Draco. “Not about that. That someone might curse or hex you after all despite all the safeguards they’ve set up around the ballroom, yes.”
Draco sighed as a warm flush traveled through him. “I don’t suppose we can stay home after all and spend some time alone?”
Harry’s hand fell casually on his arm and steered Draco’s hand away from where it was wandering towards Harry’s chest. “Not right now,” Harry whispered, and pulled Draco towards the entrance of Malfoy Manor. “We need to go if we’re going to make sure that we arrive at the gala on time.”
“We could be fashionably late?” Draco suggested, glancing over his shoulder and trying to make his eyes into bedroom eyes. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do it despite reading several detailed descriptions of it lately.
“Is something wrong with your face, Draco?”
Draco gave a huge, loud sigh, and faced the front again. He would have to work on seducing Harry later.
*
Harry became aware, after they’d been at the gala for a few minutes, that he was on high alert. It was a state of mind he hadn’t felt much since right after the war and one of the attempts by rogue Death Eaters to take him down that had happened then.
Ease off. Draco’s getting concerned.
Draco hadn’t turned his concern into an attempt to talk to him about it yet, but Harry knew that wasn’t far behind. And Draco had enough reasons to be tense about this gala. Harry wanted him to actually enjoy himself. He relaxed and smiled at Draco. “Would you like to dance?”
“They haven’t begun the music yet,” Draco muttered, looking around. They were in the huge ballroom at the Ministry, and someone had decided to decorate it in gold, maybe in rebellion against the Christmas colors Harry knew most people would have expected. Of course, being the Ministry, it was done in hilariously tacky fashion, with illusions of Galleons falling from the ceiling and vanishing before they hit the floor, enormous swags of golden tinsel draped across the doorframes, and a garish golden paint on the walls. Or maybe just an illusion. Harry hadn’t gone close enough to look at it and figure out which it was, because, frankly, the glow from it made his head hurt.
“I know,” Harry said. “But I think they’re about to.”
He’d been keeping an eye on the trio of witches over in the corner. One had a set of drums, one a harp, and one a guitar. Harry had no idea how those instruments would blend, but he also knew they probably wouldn’t clash, or Kingsley wouldn’t have invited these particular musicians. And sure enough, a lively dance tune began to spill from them a moment later.
“My lord,” Harry said, and held out his hand to Draco. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Harry could see the subtle tremor in Draco’s hands, and knew he might be the only one in the ballroom who had any sense of the courage it took Draco to meet his eyes and nod. “Yes, I would. Will,” he added, and took Harry’s hand.
I’m the only one who knows about it, and the only one about to explode with pride, Harry thought, as he steered Draco towards the glittering dance floor with one hand on his back. But as long as the pride is intense enough, and I can show it to him enough…
Yeah. I don’t think I need to worry about anyone else right now.
*
So far, no one had fired hexes at them. But Draco could see the disgust in the gaping eyes and mouths that followed their progress in the dance.
Harry either didn’t see them or had learned to deliberately ignore them. He waltzed around Draco instead, or twirled him, or led him, or whatever else was appropriate to the dance, because Draco moved almost automatically in the right steps and Harry followed Draco. His smile was constant, and not strained, either.
He’s happy just to be here with me. It doesn’t matter to him what anyone else thinks.
Knowing that finally helped Draco relax, too, by focusing on Harry instead of their audience. And Harry wasn’t at all a bad dancer when he put his mind on something else other than the dancing. Instinctive, in a way, like his flying.
Draco turned Harry around so that they were beneath the one single permanent illusion of a Galleon suspended from the middle of the ceiling, and decided that they hadn’t outraged people enough. Most of them had either gone on gaping without changing their expression, or turned away. Draco was tired of stale disgust.
“Kiss me?” he whispered to Harry. It was still Harry’s reputation on the line, more than his, so Draco would let him choose.
But Harry smiled and said, “I would be delighted to,” and leaned forwards to catch Draco’s lips in a delicate kiss.
Draco didn’t think that delicacy had anything to do with the people watching. It had to do with Harry’s desire for privacy where they could do something more. From the way he eased back a second later and looked at Draco, his desire in general wasn’t in doubt.
“Well, I never!” said a loud voice from the edge of the dance floor, and when Draco glanced over, it was to find a witch who looked about his mother’s age storming away.
“Come on, Draco. Focus.” Harry’s voice was full of laughter, and he swung their hands a little to draw Draco’s attention back to him. “You know as well as I do that I falter when you start concentrating on something other than the dance.”
Draco smiled obediently and kept his eyes locked on Harry’s as they swirled into another pattern. The musicians either thought the whole thing was fascinating themselves, or didn’t care and wanted to keep doing what they were getting paid for. Either way, Draco thought, the songs were getting faster and livelier.
It made a great excuse to keep all his attention on Harry and off any gossiping Ministry flunkies who might be staring at them.
Although, when he caught a glimpse of a bright light from the corner of his eye and saw a curse flying towards his unprotected back, he decided that there might be disadvantages to even the most absorbing dances with his boyfriend.
*
Harry saw the curse coming. It was brilliant red and didn’t look like a Stunner. It looked like a curse that would cause someone a lot of pain.
He turned, swinging so that Draco went careening around him and almost lost his balance. He had to grab Harry’s shoulders to maintain it. Harry didn’t mind that. It meant Draco wasn’t lying on the floor at his feet bleeding out, and that was more than good enough for him.
Harry raised his wand and with it, his Shield Charm came up, blazing and shimmering between him and the curse. The curse hit the shield and simply fractured into dozens of bouncing points of red light. Harry watched them fall on the floor and fizzle out like sparks. They made what looked like burning holes in the golden glamour.
Then he lifted his head and opened his eyes wide and said simply, “Accio caster of that curse.”
The Summoning Charm yanked a tall wizard in green robes out of the crowd a second later. He came stumbling and wheeling towards Harry, and only came to a stop in front of him when Harry said, “Finite,” so they wouldn’t bang into each other.
The wizard was wheezing. Harry didn’t think that came from his Summoning Charm. That was more likely to be shock and maybe the wizard trying to run away from Harry’s insane vengeance before it could happen.
Harry held the wizard’s eyes and asked simply, “Why?”
“Because, because, because!” The man pointed at Draco. He was balding and had a huge golden beard that might be the inspiration behind the illusions they’d used in the ballroom. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen him before. “He ought to be in prison!”
“He was in prison. He paid for his crimes. The Wizengamot didn’t find them that severe.”
“Only because you testified for him!” The man turned towards him and spat at Harry’s feet. There were several gasps from around them, but Harry thought the man was too far gone to hear them. “You ought to have kept your nose out of politics and in a schoolbook, where it belongs.”
“Don’t be unrealistic,” Harry said. “That was never going to happen. And I doubt you would have had a problem with it if I had testified for someone you happen to favor.”
The wizard looked as if he was caught without words, and hated to be that way. He settled for scowling at Harry.
“You still can’t attack him at a public gathering,” Harry went on, his voice a little detached now. He knew he would remember the curse if he searched for it…right. “And you can’t cast the Fire-Flaying Curse at any time. That’s illegal.”
There was a shocked gasp from some of the people watching. Harry ignored that. Yes, they were shocked now, when they heard the name of the curse. They hadn’t been reacting before that, as if it was perfectly fine for this man to cast a curse at Draco as long as it wasn’t one of the illegal ones.
“You can’t flaunt him in front of all of us like that and not expect someone to react,” the man muttered, his gaze sullenly on the floor now.
“We talked and then danced. If that’s flaunting, then there are others here who would have something to answer for.”
And Harry could see them, when he cast his gaze around. Some of the people who had worked in the Ministry for Voldemort’s regime and had never been proven to be under Imperius. A few others who had spent some time in Azkaban. Others who might have, and rumors abounded of their having bribed the Wizengamot. Harry didn’t presume to make hay out of those rumors unless someone forced his hand.
And oh, look, Harry thought as he turned back to the golden-bearded wizard. Someone is.
“What is going on here, Harry?”
Kingsley had finally arrived. Harry chose to believe he had been over on the other side of the room talking to someone else at first, because that was the way that would leave him most sane, and turned around with a little smile. “This man tried to curse Draco with the Fire-Flaying Curse, Minister Shacklebolt.”
Kingsley’s slightly anxious smile was gone when he turned around. “Did you do that, David?”
“I had provocation!”
“Was Mr. Malfoy cursing you in any way?”
Harry grimaced a little at the pleading undertone he could hear in Kingsley’s voice. Still, he understood the reasoning. This would be simpler for Kingsley if Draco had been doing something other than simply appearing at the gala.
“What?” Then David seemed to understand where this was going as well, and flushed. “No!”
“Did he taunt you? Attack you? Approach you and make insults about your family?”
That would be far from the provocation needed to use an illegal curse, anyway, Harry thought, but he understood it, too, when he gave himself a shake from the personal road back onto the political one. Kingsley was simply establishing, ahead of time, that Draco had done nothing that might seem reasonable cause for cursing him in the eyes of those who hated Death Eaters.
“No,” David whispered. He sounded crushed now.
“You’ll need to come with me, David,” Kingsley said, and put his hand under David’s elbow. David winced a little. Harry thought he might be the only one who could see how tightly Kingsley was holding him. “We’re a civilized community. We don’t settle debates with curses. Not anymore,” he added, as if he thought David was opening his mouth to protest.
There was a long moment of silence, with some of the crowd flowing after Kingsley, before the musicians began to play again. Harry took a deep breath and turned around to face Draco.
“Thanks for keeping silent there,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I know how difficult it must have been for you, but it wouldn’t have helped at all right now for you to get angry.”
Draco was a little pale, but he smiled at Harry and put a hand on his arm. “I know that,” he said. “Which is why I continued to wait and listen. Do you want to go back to dancing?”
“That has to be your decision,” Harry said, looking into his eyes. “You were the one who got attacked.”
“If we leave the floor, they win.” Draco held Harry’s arm for a moment as tightly as Kingsley must have held David’s. “And I was enjoying dancing with you.”
“Likewise,” Harry said, and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, and pulled him into the dance again. He actually managed three whole steps this time before he stepped on Draco’s toes and Draco, with an amused smile in his direction, took over.
After a few uneasy moments, other guests began dancing as well. Harry smiled around at them, but spent the rest of the evening with his attention where it belonged, solely on Draco.
Chapter Thirty-One.
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