The Ceremony of the Roses: H/D Smoochfest 2013.
Author/Artist LJ Name: nishe_w
Prompt Number: 7
Title: The Ceremony of the Roses.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco.
Summary: Once fastened, it will be unbreakable. You will not be able to unfasten it again, be unfaithful, or to separate. It is more binding than marriage, and there is no party on Earth that will be able to dissolve this bond between you, once it’s made.
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): D/s relationship, no non/dub-con or violence and unfortunately no smut :(
Epilogue compliant? EWE. This is not epilogue compliant. Harry and Draco are in a very private relationship.
Word Count: 6,377
Author's Notes: Written for curlee_cue for the hd_smoochfest
Many, many thanks as always to nails233 for the constant advice and information.
The biggest of big thank you hugs to my beta SW, you saved my ass! I couldn’t have done this without you!
Thanks also to LAK for pre-reading!
Links to information and sites used, highlight to view. *
I was drawing a complete blank, so the vows are taken from here (and added to a tiny bit): 1
Other information was also found on these sites:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
[The Ceremony of the Roses]
It doesn't matter what you do in the bedroom as long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the horses. ~Daphne Fielding, The Duchess of Jermyn Street
Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself. ~Harvey Fierstein
o.O.o ~ HP.DM ~ o.O.o
April 2007.
“I’ve called you all here today to deal with the recent reveals about Draco Malfoy and myself. Since people feel it is prudent for them to intrude on our lives, rights and privacy, and refuse to leave us alone now that certain… truths have been revealed, we feel that it’s necessary we at least have the chance to defend ourselves.”
Harry levels a hard look at the crowd of eager faces, press and public, desperate to hear what he has to say on the news that have exploded and taken over everyone’s lives the past few weeks, and relaxes minutely as Draco steps up beside him, a hand resting on his lower back, out of sight of the crowd’s hungry eyes but offering silent support all the same.
“Yes, Draco and I are in a relationship.”
November 2006.
Ginny sighs to herself and stares at the small, whirring dish at the far end of the table as her fellow Unspeakables murmur amongst themselves and the heads of other departments and members of the press enter the conference room where the head of the Department of Mysteries, Levina Monkstanley, and the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, have decided to hold the conference that would introduce a revolutionary new piece of equipment that is hoped will overhaul the way trials are conducted, and ensure the verdict and the sentences that are given out will be far more fitting and appropriate to the crime. Ron and Hermione are there as Head Auror and Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Bill is somewhere at the back of the room as a representative of Gringotts.
If you ask her, all the pomp and flair is completely unnecessary; everyone knows that since Kingsley was appointed Minister the Ministry has been completely revamped and become much more efficient. Public support has been at an all-time high since all the remaining Death Eaters have been found and tried - the majority of them given life sentences, with a few like Rodolphus, Greyback and the Carrows sentenced to the Kiss. But despite that, corruption is slowly trying to worm its way back into the Ministry, though it is stopped more often than not under Kingsley’s leadership.
Regardless, Department Heads war amongst themselves, pride and over-inflated ego’s making them boastful and petty and constantly trying to one-up each other, which has led to today’s flashy announcement and reveal to the press.
“Wizards and witches, esteemed members of the press and my fellow Heads of Department, thank you for coming.” Ginny rolls her eyes at her boss, noting out of the corner of her eye Ron’s unimpressed snort and the quick scowl Hermione shoots in his direction without even moving her head. “…new artefact that can be used not only in trials but also by other departments which is why I called you here today to witness it in use for yourself. It was built using the combined concepts of Time Turners and Pensieves, and if used correctly, will allow you to see moments in time, rather than memories which can be altered. This piece of equipment will enable the viewer to see any scene, whether in the past or present, and we’re hopeful that with more work and research the viewing scope will be able to be expended into the future also. The primary function as I said will be for use during trials where there’s no concluding evidence, as a quick and easy way to find out the truth, and enable a fair and just punishment to be meted out.”
She pauses to smile around the room, and Ginny has to hand it to her, the woman knows how to grab her audience’s attention and hold it.
“Now for the interesting, more technical aspects. The equipment responds in proportion to the strength of the caster like you find when casting spells. A stronger wizard will create a brighter light when casting Lumos, for example, than a weaker wizard will. That’s why any person who is to use this tool must be trained correctly, so that even the weakest of wizards will be able to use it as effectively as his stronger counterparts. Secondly, when using the tool, you must be specific and define the time period you wish to view. For example, I could use it and ask, what was I doing this morning between nine fifty-five and ten o’clock, and you would see me in my office drinking a cup of tea. If I was not specific and simply asked what I was doing this morning at nine fifty-five, you would see me drinking my cup of tea, filling out paperwork, yelling at my assistant and then the scene would end as I picked up my files for this meeting and left the room.”
Most people in the room look impressed, and Ginny smiles inwardly as a few of her colleagues shoot her proud glances and sat a little straighter in their chairs. It was a joint effort, combining the skills of almost every Unspeakable in the department, but she was the one to come up with the idea and critical to it becoming a reality.
“Of course, full credit will be given to the Department of Mysteries, won’t it, Minister? And the Aurors will consent to only using this device when trained and in the presence of a member of my department?” Monkstanley’s voice is like ice, even as she smiles sweetly up at Kingsley, and Ginny’s smile turns into a full out smirk as Ron’s face darkens and flushes.
There’s been long-running tension between the two departments even since their last joint project. The Aurors had enlisted the help of the Unspeakable department to create a tool for a case that was proving difficult for all of their Auror’s, even Harry, to solve. A wizard had been going around and hexing seemingly random objects with a curse he’d invented that couldn’t be identified as Dark. The hex had reacted differently each time, sometimes exploding the object, other times Vanishing - and taking the unfortunate witch or wizard with it - and they’d been unable to capture him. The tool had enabled the Aurors to see if an object had been hexed before they touched it and found out the hard way, and they’d successfully been able to piece together the clues that allowed them to find the caster and send him to trial. The trouble came when it came down to who should be awarded the credit for the tool and the rights to produce it. Both sides had put equal amounts of effort into creating it, but neither side wanted to share the glory, and egged on by their colleagues, a fight had broken out and the models had gotten caught up in the spell fire and been destroyed. Stupidly, the Department hadn’t learned from the incident during Harry’s fifth year, and had kept the prototypes and designs with the working models, rather than somewhere separate and secure, and as a result that breakthrough had been lost.
Sensing the tension that has stepped up a notch as different members of staff bristle with the reminder of what had happened, Kingsley nods. “Of course, and perhaps once it’s been used and demonstrated several times correctly, a few select members of the Auror team can then work it themselves and supervise over those who are less experienced, to save your Unspeakables from constantly running between departments to oversee.”
His tone brooks no argument, and Monkstanley nods reluctantly. “There are obvious ethical issues, such as people’s rights to privacy and the potential for this to be used for the wrong reasons, and that’s why we’re being so strict with regards to members of the ministry who’ll have access to it and possess the knowledge of how to work it. Now, with regards to more of the technical aspects, I’m sure several of you are wondering, but what about Wards and Obscuring Charms and the like?” There were a few nods, and her grin was sharp. “I’m very proud to say that no one can hide from this device. No wards, no spells are effective and able to provide a shield. That’s why we’re desperate to have it first and foremost used in trials. Even if a murder took place behind a set of the strongest Wards and fifty Disillusionment charms, we’d see through them clear as day. But, I think that you need to see for yourselves just how well this works and what a breakthrough it is. Is anyone here willing to offer themselves up as a test subject?”
No one, it seems, is willing to do so until the Minister gives in with good grace and suggests the night before as Monkstanley nods, wand already spiralling in complex patterns above the dish and a small flare of light drops from the wand tip and makes it shimmer.
“Where was Minister Shacklebolt at six forty five to six fifty yesterday evening, the nineteenth of April 2006?”
The image that floats above the dish is watery at first and then widens, becoming three feet in height and width and the colours begin to strengthen, the people inside becoming more defined as the seconds pass until the image and sounds are crystal clear.
The room is dim but warm, lit only by the crackling fire in the hearth, casting a dull glow over Kingsley and his wife who are curled up together on their sofa, talking softly about their day’s at work and sharing a bottle of wine.
The scene ends, and Kingsley has a slight smile on his face before he nods at the Unspeakable and steps back.
“Would anyone else like to volunteer? What about you Anderson?”
The poor boy is new to the department and has unfortunately gotten on Monkstanley’s bad side. She doesn’t even give him the choice of time and day, instead snapping out an order for that morning, and the room is faced with an image of him in the shower, belting out the lyrics to Celestina Warbeck’s latest release at the top of his lugs.
After the laughter has died down, and poor Anderson looks like he’d gladly take a transfer to New Zealand, Kingsley steps in once again.
“If there’s no one else who’d like to test this out and no more for you to tell us, Unspeakable Monkstanley, then I’d like to thank you for your time and-”
“But, minister,” Rita’s voice is like treacle, saccharine and sickly sweet as she flutters her eyelashes and the acid green quill hovers over the parchment. “Perhaps we should look at someone more… newsworthy. Like… why Harry Potter would be perfect!”
“Now, Ms Skeeter, I hardly think that’s appropriate, Auror Potter likes to have a great deal of privacy and this would infringe upon his rights-”
“Yes, yes,” Rita waves her hand, cutting him short. “I know just how just how well he likes his privacy. However, I think my readers deserve a little look into the life of the Boy-Who-Lived. He’s been hiding away for years, they deserve to know something.” Ginny’s face pales and from the corner of her eye she can see Ron’s red with outrage as he holds onto Hermione’s hand - probably to stop her from losing her professionalism and hexing Skeeter into next week. “I mean,” Skeeter’s tone is placating now, perhaps she’s seen and taken note of the backs that have stiffened defensively at her comment. “Readers would be more interested if you use this tool on a more prominent member of society. Then they’d know that it really works and isn’t a fake. It’s a game of give and take, Minister. Give them a little, and you’ll have their full backing, no complaints or opposition when you introduce the plans to use it in trials - apart from the criminals of course. Give them Harry Potter, and you won’t regret it.”
“I highly doubt-”
“Does anyone else want to get a look into the life behind the walls that the Chosen One’s put up?” Rita glances around smugly when more than a few sets of eyes shine with interest. “You’ve been outvoted, come on, Minister. Harry Potter has the strongest Wards I’ve ever seen. No one can get through them, so if this tool really works as well as Monkstanley claims it does, then it should be a piece of cake.”
Ginny can see the basic manipulation for what it is, and her heart sinks as she sees her boss fall for it and begin casting the spells needed to activate the tool.
“What date-”
“The twenty-first of August,” Ginny isn’t even aware that she’s spoken until everyone turns to stare at her and she flushes. She doesn’t want Rita to suggest a date that might reveal something private, and if she remembers correctly, Harry was on forced leave from the Aurors to recover from a case that had almost killed him… again. Surely, watching five minutes of the Boy Who Lived lounging on the sofa, doing paperwork and grumbling about being forced to take time off will help end the fascination that the public has with him.
Monkstanley nods and speaks clearly. “Where was Harry Potter on the twenty first of August this year at eleven thirty in the morning?”
The picture flickers to life once again, and this time they see Harry stretched out on the sofa, piles of papers surrounding him. As the picture focuses and more details become apparent, they can see he’s smiling at a picture… a certificate, perhaps, and catch sight of the words, 25th June 2006, Mr Richardon’s Estate, written underneath. The rest is hidden from view by his body, and as Monkstanley begins to wave her wand to turn the image and view it from another angle, Harry yawns and gets up, placing the parchment back into a black folder before he leaves the room and the scene ends.
“That wasn’t enough!”
“Ms Skeeter!”
Hermione steps forward, wand in hand, as Monkstanley snaps, and everyone else can only watch in horror as Rita pulls off a mangled parody of the smooth, practised wand movements Monkstanley used and shouts out, “Where was Harry Potter on the twenty fifth of June?”
The dish doesn’t do anything for a moment, and then all but bursts into flame, pictures and sounds flickering through the air too fast for the room’s occupants to keep track of, and then falls still as an image of Harry solidifies and begins to play.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
Blaise and Narcissa are stood in the background, faces calm and neutral as Harry, dressed in a simple, white robe, moves to stand in front of Draco, a single barely opened white rose clasped in his hand. He’s been waiting for this day for months, his entire life in fact, and yet at the same time he’s terrified and nervous and excited all at once. Once they take this step, they’re bound together for eternity. They’ve managed to keep their relationship a secret so far and out of the papers, mostly due to Harry’s insanely thick Wards and the use of several Glamours or Polyjuice whenever they go out, and it’s a little daunting to think that if someone were to find out now, the fall out would be so much worse than if they were just fuck buddies or even if they were only getting married. But this, undergoing the Ceremony of the Roses, binding himself to his Master, preparing to give himself mind body and soul… it’s terrifying. However, once he meets Master’s eyes, steely grey calm, collected and tender, he feels his anxieties fade away. This is Draco, his Draco. And just like over the past ten years, he has only Harry’s best interests at heart. His love, his Dominance, his control, it’s all for Harry, because he needs it.
And he’s ready.
Draco’s dressed in matching black robes with a fully bloomed red rose to match Harry’s as he too steps forward until Harry’s within arm’s reach; and then he smiles, a tender expression that fills his eyes with warmth as he regards his lover and reaches out with hands that he has to fight to keep steady when he cups Harry’s cheek softly and then reaches down to remove Harry’s training collar.
Both roses are released to Hover by their sides, and gone is the tatty, cracked leather, faded and discoloured with age; and one of Harry’s hands lifts as though to touch his neck in shock that it’s truly removed, when Draco catches it in his own and brings Harry’s fingers to his lips, kissing the tips softly as their eyes meet and Harry smiles, radiant and reassured.
“I’ve got you.”
The same words he whispered that first night they played together, when he brought Harry to the cusp, broke him so that he could give him exactly what he wanted, what he needed, which was someone to care solely for him. Someone who would value him above all others. Someone to keep him in check when things got too wild, too uncontrollable; to ground him. Master Draco is all that and more, commanding his respect, his obedience, his submission and Harry loves to give it to him, wants to give it to him. So he does.
Draco smiles once more as Harry relaxes under his touch, and then lifts Harry’s new, permanent collar from the satin covered pillow Master Richardson’s holding out for him. It’s beautiful, Goblin-made of the finest Dragonhide, thinned and tanned to perfection, the deep obsidian tone highlighted by the glints of darkened emerald green and sapphire that become visible when the light tilts just so; and inlaid with links of sterling silver, crushed and moulded into tiny little infinity symbols, that almost seem to hum from the protective and binding magic they’re imbued with.
“This collar is enchanted, as you both requested. Once fastened, it will be unbreakable. You will not be able to unfasten it again, be unfaithful, or to separate. It is more binding than marriage, and there is no party on Earth that will be able to dissolve this bond between you, once it’s made.”
Draco meets Harry’s eyes once more, silver-grey latching onto emerald green, offering up one last chance in case he’s changed his mind, but Harry’s sure and so Draco carefully passes the collar through the small flames Master Richardson Conjures, and then fastens it around Harry’s neck, the lock melding into another infinity symbol and the buckles fusing together so that it’s one single loop without beginning or end.
“Draco, do you wish to take this submissive as your own, truly and completely?” Harry breathes in deeply, and then kneels, smile radiant as the sun as Master Richardson speaks and Draco nods.
“Harry, I give you this collar as a symbol of my ownership. I pledge to love you, stretch your limits, keep you safe and offer you the discipline and affection that you need. I promise to honour, cherish and protect you with all that I am and ever shall be, to defend you until my last breath. I accept this role, seriously and truthfully, and will always value the trust you have placed in me. I will love you now and forever, in this life and the next. Thank you for accepting this collar.”
Draco smiles down at Harry as Master Richardson speaks again, “Harry, are you willing to accept your place as your Master’s submissive, to honour and obey his will, and do as he asks of you?”
“Master, I humbly accept this collar as a symbol of your ownership of me. To you I pledge my love, my obedience and my servitude. I know that, as your property, I will be looked after and tended to with the utmost care. I know that I will receive both the affection and the discipline that I require; the control that only you can offer that will fulfil my needs. In return, I offer to you the gift of myself; mind, body and soul, now and for eternity. Thank you for allowing me to serve you and for making me yours.”
Draco reaches for the roses, the deep red colour the perfect complement to the pure white of Harry’s as he takes Harry’s hand and pricks a finger carefully on one of the thorns of the red rose, allowing only a couple of drops of blood to fall onto the white roses petals before he does the same, allowing one droplet to fall next to Harry’s, and the other directly on top. The red of their blood perfectly offsets the whiteness of the petals, and Draco can feel Harry’s happiness as their pricked fingers press together, their blood blending together in significance of the bond they’ve just completed, binding their souls together as they mix their blood, and Harry feels almost overwhelmed with the rush of love and adoration he feels that is clearly shared by his Master, reflected in his grey eyes.
Blaise and Narcissa move then, each holding an end of a length of fine gold chain, and pass that too through the flames as Draco helps Harry to stand after Healing the small cut, and then it’s wrapped around them, a physical symbol of the binding of their souls as they each repeat their vow to each other; their roses are pressed together, and exchanged, and it’s almost over when the chain is carefully unravelled and wrapped in a cloth that seems to shine like the stars with every rippling movement.
“You are mine.”
Harry nods, teary eyed but in the right way as his Master cups his face in his hands and kisses him deeply, teeth nipping at his lower lip and tongue tracing the contours of his mouth, teasing and coaxing soft whimpers from the back of his throat as his eyes flutter shut and his hands slide up to grip at Draco’s back and shoulders, legs suddenly feeling too weak to support his weight.
As they kiss, the roses are taken, held reverently and placed into a simple vase which is to be sent along with the wrapped chain to the bed chamber that’s been set aside for them to use once the collaring ceremony is complete. Content for the moment, Draco pulls back slowly, pressing three more lingering yet chaste kisses to Harry’s swollen lips and then takes his hand, turning them to receive the applause and congratulations from their witnesses and Master Richardson.
Tender kisses are exchanged as the five sit down for a short meal, rich foods that are seen only at the finest and most notable of Pureblood Wizarding Balls, before Harry is ordered to go to their bedroom and prepare himself for his Master.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
The scene ends, and everyone inside of the room is frozen for a second, the only sound the scratching of Rita’s Quick Notes Quill as even she stands still and shocked, staring into the empty space where they just watched Harry Potter bond his soul and pledge his submission to Draco Malfoy.
And then the penny drops, reporters remember that they have WiziCams recording the entire meeting and the writing gold that their reports are going to be if they can be the first to get the pictures printed and their column out with the evening post.
Through the shocked buzz in her mind, Ginny hears Ron shouting to Hermione that they need to let Harry know about this… whatever this is; because regardless of his surprise, they’re still best mates and the time for histrionics is not now.
It’s too late for damage control, even as Kingsley shouts for Aurors to prevent anyone from leaving and to Summon a team of Obliviators - because he knows that things have gone too far, that he should have banned fucking Skeeter from even entering the building, that this has seriously infringed upon Harry’s rights and he’s going to be pissed as hell when it gets out - there’s too much confusion, too much noise for him to be heard, and Rita uses the pandemonium to change into her Animagus form and slip out unnoticed.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
Rita’s Extra Special Limited Edition Early Afternoon Spread is sent out at the same time as Harry and Draco are making their way back into the main part of Grimmauld after a pleasant afternoon in the Play Room, and almost as soon as they unlock their Floo - closed beforehand to prevent anyone from coming through and coming across something they shouldn’t - Ron’s head appears in the flames, freckles standing out in stark relief against his unusually pale face despite the green tinge the flames cast.
“Harry? Malfoy? Harry!”
Draco starts and almost drops a glass as Ron’s bellow echoes throughout the house, and Harry hurries to answer, fear for his friends and family the prominent emotion from the tone of his voice. Is it Hermione? Teddy? Molly or Arthur?
“Who’s hurt?”
“No one, I- have you heard from anyone else yet?”
“No, Draco and I were…” he blushes, and make a strange little jerky motion with his hands, pointing upwards and outwards and not really doing anything at the same time as he hopes Ron will take that as them being in the bedroom and back off like they all do whenever someone’s sex life comes up. Best friends they may be, but there are some things you just don’t share. “Was I supposed to?”
Ron looks positively sick now, and Harry doesn’t even realise how tense he’s gotten until he feels Draco’s hands kneading the muscles in his shoulders. Ron blanches, and the tension snaps right back. Ron hasn’t reacted like that to Draco in years, so something must be wrong.
“Tell me.”
“You remember I told you about the interdepartmental meeting that was scheduled for this morning in the Unspeakables Department?” Harry nods, as does Draco. “It was some new tool they’d developed, it allowed you to see-”
The squawking and scratching of the post owl at the closed window cuts Ron off, and he can only watch in horror as Harry ignores his request to stay there and ignore the bloody owl and hear what he has to say in favour of letting it in to pay and retrieve the paper even though he ‘didn’t order an afternoon edition’ and moves towards Draco before he opens it out.
And freezes, horror etched across his face.
HARRY POTTER AND DRACO MALFOY TAKE PART IN LURID BDSM CEREMONY.
Today, my dear readers, I came across a most disturbing nugget of information. While attending a presentation by the Unspeakable Department of the Ministry of Magic (it’s all top secret hush-hush so I can’t go into more detail) it was revealed that our very own Saviour has taken part in a Dark ceremony with none other than ‘ex’ Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Potter was seen pledging his soul and servitude to Malfoy before being collared and taking part in a Blood Magic Ritual which seems horrifically reminiscent of the confessions made about You Know Who’s own Marking ceremonies during his rise to power in the First Wizarding War. Could Malfoy, who’s worked suspiciously hard over the past ten years to cast all doubt and dark shadows from the Malfoy name, be attempting to bring back or emulate He Who Must Not Be Named, but with the backing and support of the Boy Who Lived? This reporter certainly hopes not, and shares this story with you most urgently to ask you to help Mr Potter see the light and to leave behind the corruption that Malfoy is sure to bring. Harry, if you’re reading this, it’s not too late to put things right.
See more… p2.
Readers’ responses… p3.
BSDM and Dark Rituals, how are they connected?.. p6.
“Shit.”
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
It’s less than an hour before the first Howler arrives, and it’s almost like that is the one that opens the floodgates. And it’s only a short matter of time before the house is filled with outraged shrieking and heavy amount of vitriol and profanity spewed towards Draco, and tearful begging for Harry to ‘save his soul and come back to the light’. There are even a few proposals in there, offers of marriage, money, land or power if Harry turns away from the ‘Death Eater scumbag’ who must have Imperiused him in order to get their Golden Boy to even think of willingly touching him.
Eventually, when the third piece of Cursed post almost reaches Draco, Harry has to raise a whole new set of Wards on the house, so that anything with malicious or harmful intent can’t pass through and the poor owls being forced to make the deliveries have to hurriedly turn back to return them to their senders or face losing more than a few tail feathers when they explode open.
Unsurprisingly, the post keeps coming, albeit more slowly, but with the new Ward it’s all of the positive kind. Letters of support drown out the calls for Draco to be thrown into Azkaban, messages from other witches and wizards who are in the lifestyle too but struggle to accept it, or to find acceptance from outward sources… in only a few days they’ve run the gamut from both being accused of being Dark wizards to being an inspiration and poster boys for alternative lifestyles everywhere.
They’ve all but barricaded themselves indoors, locked themselves away from the world after they make several furious firecalls to Kingsley and demand that he sorts it out, otherwise there’ll be much more severe legal action.
Lawyers are involved because this has gone way past the realm of eavesdropping and into serious violation of public rights to privacy and there must be a law out there somewhere that says things that are found out in such a way can’t be made public without at least consulting the person who it concerns first.
And just when things start to be calming down, Skeeter releases pictures and a video clip along with more reams of her acidic ‘prose’, and Harry loses it. Their special day, their private, special, precious collaring ceremony, something that no one other than those invited even should know about is now public knowledge and has been seen worldwide. Their deepest, most emotional connection has just been sold to the Wizarding World for two knuts a piece by a bottle blonde bitch who just doesn’t know when to quit and has absolutely no concept of respect, privacy or the word ‘no’.
He breaks down, temper frayed to the last nerve as the image of Draco placing the collar around his neck and speaking those soft, sweet, firm, promises that meant everything to him blinks up at him from the front page of The Daily Prophet; threatens to kill her, and almost gets out the door, Elder Wand in hand, before Draco can stop him and restrain him, and then he sobs, helpless and hurt and angry, so angry, because there’s next to nothing he can do and he hates it.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
It’s almost two weeks before he can bear to go back in the Play Room, but Draco, as his boyfriend and his Master, understands and gives him the time he needs to be angry, be hurt, be disgusted, to cry in his arms and spend time on his own thinking things through before he returns and lets his Master take care of him; soothe away his hurts and reassure him the way that he needs so he can ignore the rest of the fuckers out there who are making one sided judgements without knowing the truth, who will never know the bliss and pleasure he receives from submitting, who will never understand that he needs it like he needs air to breathe, if not more so.
Christmas at the Burrow is tense, no one quite knows where to look or what to say at first, though the presence of the children definitely makes things far less awkward than they might have been, and by the end of the day, things are somewhat normal. Still, that echo of shock and unease surrounds most of their family, and Draco and Harry leave relatively early to far too few protests after talking to Ron and Hermione about their plan of, well, it’s not exactly revenge, more just attempting to put everything back to rights… as much as they can be at least.
They struggle through the next few weeks, Harry’s on a permanent leave of absence from the Aurors until the trial is over and done with, and he’s already made it clear to Kingsley that if Skeeter and whoever else agreed to use that damned tool in the first place don’t get justly punished, he’ll quit and he’ll bring the entire Ministry down with him when he leaves. He knows that he’s threatening Kingsley directly, but he doesn’t care, not when Draco’s starting to get sick from the stress and the constant calls for his head on a stick, the fact that they can’t even set foot outside, because a regardless of whether they’re in a Muggle or Magical area, the press always finds them, and following the press are the crowds, and being heckled once is one time too many. Being told that he should drop Draco and instead, marry a ‘nice young girl who can give him children and set him back on the straight and narrow’ so that he ‘sets a good example to the younger generations, is most definitely not okay, and he hates that Kingsley even let it come down to this.
Finally, finally, at the end of January, the trial is brought to a close and Skeeter is placed in Azkaban for libel, slander, trespassing and harassment, much to the joy of every person she’s ever victimised. It’s only for three years, but her license to practice journalism is also revoked, she’s fined a hefty amount in recompense towards Draco and Harry for the trouble she’s caused them - they donate the Galleons to charity because neither of them wants nor needs her tainted money - and she’s served a restraining order, one that’s attuned to Harry and Draco’s magical signatures and has the effect like they’ve dropped from her consciousness. She’ll no longer be able to contact them, to see them, to even think of them. If she looks at one of her old articles from this whole debacle, she’ll just see blank sheets of parchment. Anything and everything between them is now gone.
But despite all that, it’s still tough. Harry considers going back to work, but decides against it. The Ministry’s just caused him close to four months of pain and heartache, and he doesn’t want to play along with them anymore. They’ve burnt their bridges with Harry Potter, and they’ll regret it forever. Hermione meanwhile, has been working on a new spell. It’s a far-reaching combination of Incendio and the Obliteration Charm, keyed in to certain items, namely the revealing articles Skeeter wrote and any Pensieve memories she may have and even potentially sold. They can only test so much on old newspapers until it works flawlessly, but even then it’s close range, so they have no idea whether it works or not when Hermione Casts it over a city at a time which takes her almost two weeks and leaves her magically exhausted by the time she’s done.
With that done, it’s time for them to make their final stand, to do what many probably would have advised doing from the start but which Draco and Harry felt would only have fanned the flames more, rather than to bank them.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
April 2007.
“I’ve called you all here today to deal with the recent reveals about Draco Malfoy and myself. Since people felt it was prudent for them to intrude on our lives, rights and privacy, and refuse to leave us alone now that certain… truths have been revealed, we feel that it’s necessary we at least had the chance to defend ourselves.”
Harry levels a hard look at the crowd of eager faces, press and public, desperate to hear what he has to say on the news that has exploded and taken over everyone’s lives the past few weeks, and relaxes minutely as Draco steps up beside him, a hand resting on his lower back, out of sight of the crowd’s hungry eyes but offering silent support all the same.
“Yes, Draco and I are in a relationship. We have been for a little over ten years now. The intricacies of our relationship are none of your business. My life, our life, is not for hire. My privacy is just that, my privacy and I expect it to be respected. I sacrificed myself to save the Wizarding World once, for you to keep your noses out shouldn’t have been too much to ask. Evidently it was. So I’ll say this only once. Anyone found to be prying into my private life will be handed straight over to us to be dealt with. If you want to find yourself on the end of the wand of the man who defeated Voldemort then carry on as you have been. If you’d like to live a full life, then back off.”
“That’ll do, love. If they didn’t get the warning from that and heed your advice then there’s nothing more we can do except to deal with the idiots as they continue.”
The hand presses against his lower back, gently but firmly once more, a silent order to go with the spoken command, guiding him away from the podium as the Minister takes over smoothly, further underlining the consequences that will befall anyone who dares intrude upon Harry and Draco’s lives after that.
“Back to work?”
“No,” Draco smiles and takes Harry’s hand, a short laugh on his lips as emerald green eyes meet and hold his, narrowed with curiosity and wonder. “I booked the afternoon off. The past few weeks have been especially stressful for you, pet. I think an early start to the weekend is in order, don’t you?”
A bright grin lights up Harry’s face as Draco tugs him along towards the Atrium, his mind already spinning with the scenarios his boyfriend and Master might have planned.
“Yes, Master.”
~ THE END ~
Prompt Number: 7
Title: The Ceremony of the Roses.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco.
Summary: Once fastened, it will be unbreakable. You will not be able to unfasten it again, be unfaithful, or to separate. It is more binding than marriage, and there is no party on Earth that will be able to dissolve this bond between you, once it’s made.
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): D/s relationship, no non/dub-con or violence and unfortunately no smut :(
Epilogue compliant? EWE. This is not epilogue compliant. Harry and Draco are in a very private relationship.
Word Count: 6,377
Author's Notes: Written for curlee_cue for the hd_smoochfest
Many, many thanks as always to nails233 for the constant advice and information.
The biggest of big thank you hugs to my beta SW, you saved my ass! I couldn’t have done this without you!
Thanks also to LAK for pre-reading!
Links to information and sites used, highlight to view. *
I was drawing a complete blank, so the vows are taken from here (and added to a tiny bit): 1
Other information was also found on these sites:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
[The Ceremony of the Roses]
It doesn't matter what you do in the bedroom as long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the horses. ~Daphne Fielding, The Duchess of Jermyn Street
Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself. ~Harvey Fierstein
o.O.o ~ HP.DM ~ o.O.o
April 2007.
“I’ve called you all here today to deal with the recent reveals about Draco Malfoy and myself. Since people feel it is prudent for them to intrude on our lives, rights and privacy, and refuse to leave us alone now that certain… truths have been revealed, we feel that it’s necessary we at least have the chance to defend ourselves.”
Harry levels a hard look at the crowd of eager faces, press and public, desperate to hear what he has to say on the news that have exploded and taken over everyone’s lives the past few weeks, and relaxes minutely as Draco steps up beside him, a hand resting on his lower back, out of sight of the crowd’s hungry eyes but offering silent support all the same.
“Yes, Draco and I are in a relationship.”
November 2006.
Ginny sighs to herself and stares at the small, whirring dish at the far end of the table as her fellow Unspeakables murmur amongst themselves and the heads of other departments and members of the press enter the conference room where the head of the Department of Mysteries, Levina Monkstanley, and the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, have decided to hold the conference that would introduce a revolutionary new piece of equipment that is hoped will overhaul the way trials are conducted, and ensure the verdict and the sentences that are given out will be far more fitting and appropriate to the crime. Ron and Hermione are there as Head Auror and Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Bill is somewhere at the back of the room as a representative of Gringotts.
If you ask her, all the pomp and flair is completely unnecessary; everyone knows that since Kingsley was appointed Minister the Ministry has been completely revamped and become much more efficient. Public support has been at an all-time high since all the remaining Death Eaters have been found and tried - the majority of them given life sentences, with a few like Rodolphus, Greyback and the Carrows sentenced to the Kiss. But despite that, corruption is slowly trying to worm its way back into the Ministry, though it is stopped more often than not under Kingsley’s leadership.
Regardless, Department Heads war amongst themselves, pride and over-inflated ego’s making them boastful and petty and constantly trying to one-up each other, which has led to today’s flashy announcement and reveal to the press.
“Wizards and witches, esteemed members of the press and my fellow Heads of Department, thank you for coming.” Ginny rolls her eyes at her boss, noting out of the corner of her eye Ron’s unimpressed snort and the quick scowl Hermione shoots in his direction without even moving her head. “…new artefact that can be used not only in trials but also by other departments which is why I called you here today to witness it in use for yourself. It was built using the combined concepts of Time Turners and Pensieves, and if used correctly, will allow you to see moments in time, rather than memories which can be altered. This piece of equipment will enable the viewer to see any scene, whether in the past or present, and we’re hopeful that with more work and research the viewing scope will be able to be expended into the future also. The primary function as I said will be for use during trials where there’s no concluding evidence, as a quick and easy way to find out the truth, and enable a fair and just punishment to be meted out.”
She pauses to smile around the room, and Ginny has to hand it to her, the woman knows how to grab her audience’s attention and hold it.
“Now for the interesting, more technical aspects. The equipment responds in proportion to the strength of the caster like you find when casting spells. A stronger wizard will create a brighter light when casting Lumos, for example, than a weaker wizard will. That’s why any person who is to use this tool must be trained correctly, so that even the weakest of wizards will be able to use it as effectively as his stronger counterparts. Secondly, when using the tool, you must be specific and define the time period you wish to view. For example, I could use it and ask, what was I doing this morning between nine fifty-five and ten o’clock, and you would see me in my office drinking a cup of tea. If I was not specific and simply asked what I was doing this morning at nine fifty-five, you would see me drinking my cup of tea, filling out paperwork, yelling at my assistant and then the scene would end as I picked up my files for this meeting and left the room.”
Most people in the room look impressed, and Ginny smiles inwardly as a few of her colleagues shoot her proud glances and sat a little straighter in their chairs. It was a joint effort, combining the skills of almost every Unspeakable in the department, but she was the one to come up with the idea and critical to it becoming a reality.
“Of course, full credit will be given to the Department of Mysteries, won’t it, Minister? And the Aurors will consent to only using this device when trained and in the presence of a member of my department?” Monkstanley’s voice is like ice, even as she smiles sweetly up at Kingsley, and Ginny’s smile turns into a full out smirk as Ron’s face darkens and flushes.
There’s been long-running tension between the two departments even since their last joint project. The Aurors had enlisted the help of the Unspeakable department to create a tool for a case that was proving difficult for all of their Auror’s, even Harry, to solve. A wizard had been going around and hexing seemingly random objects with a curse he’d invented that couldn’t be identified as Dark. The hex had reacted differently each time, sometimes exploding the object, other times Vanishing - and taking the unfortunate witch or wizard with it - and they’d been unable to capture him. The tool had enabled the Aurors to see if an object had been hexed before they touched it and found out the hard way, and they’d successfully been able to piece together the clues that allowed them to find the caster and send him to trial. The trouble came when it came down to who should be awarded the credit for the tool and the rights to produce it. Both sides had put equal amounts of effort into creating it, but neither side wanted to share the glory, and egged on by their colleagues, a fight had broken out and the models had gotten caught up in the spell fire and been destroyed. Stupidly, the Department hadn’t learned from the incident during Harry’s fifth year, and had kept the prototypes and designs with the working models, rather than somewhere separate and secure, and as a result that breakthrough had been lost.
Sensing the tension that has stepped up a notch as different members of staff bristle with the reminder of what had happened, Kingsley nods. “Of course, and perhaps once it’s been used and demonstrated several times correctly, a few select members of the Auror team can then work it themselves and supervise over those who are less experienced, to save your Unspeakables from constantly running between departments to oversee.”
His tone brooks no argument, and Monkstanley nods reluctantly. “There are obvious ethical issues, such as people’s rights to privacy and the potential for this to be used for the wrong reasons, and that’s why we’re being so strict with regards to members of the ministry who’ll have access to it and possess the knowledge of how to work it. Now, with regards to more of the technical aspects, I’m sure several of you are wondering, but what about Wards and Obscuring Charms and the like?” There were a few nods, and her grin was sharp. “I’m very proud to say that no one can hide from this device. No wards, no spells are effective and able to provide a shield. That’s why we’re desperate to have it first and foremost used in trials. Even if a murder took place behind a set of the strongest Wards and fifty Disillusionment charms, we’d see through them clear as day. But, I think that you need to see for yourselves just how well this works and what a breakthrough it is. Is anyone here willing to offer themselves up as a test subject?”
No one, it seems, is willing to do so until the Minister gives in with good grace and suggests the night before as Monkstanley nods, wand already spiralling in complex patterns above the dish and a small flare of light drops from the wand tip and makes it shimmer.
“Where was Minister Shacklebolt at six forty five to six fifty yesterday evening, the nineteenth of April 2006?”
The image that floats above the dish is watery at first and then widens, becoming three feet in height and width and the colours begin to strengthen, the people inside becoming more defined as the seconds pass until the image and sounds are crystal clear.
The room is dim but warm, lit only by the crackling fire in the hearth, casting a dull glow over Kingsley and his wife who are curled up together on their sofa, talking softly about their day’s at work and sharing a bottle of wine.
The scene ends, and Kingsley has a slight smile on his face before he nods at the Unspeakable and steps back.
“Would anyone else like to volunteer? What about you Anderson?”
The poor boy is new to the department and has unfortunately gotten on Monkstanley’s bad side. She doesn’t even give him the choice of time and day, instead snapping out an order for that morning, and the room is faced with an image of him in the shower, belting out the lyrics to Celestina Warbeck’s latest release at the top of his lugs.
After the laughter has died down, and poor Anderson looks like he’d gladly take a transfer to New Zealand, Kingsley steps in once again.
“If there’s no one else who’d like to test this out and no more for you to tell us, Unspeakable Monkstanley, then I’d like to thank you for your time and-”
“But, minister,” Rita’s voice is like treacle, saccharine and sickly sweet as she flutters her eyelashes and the acid green quill hovers over the parchment. “Perhaps we should look at someone more… newsworthy. Like… why Harry Potter would be perfect!”
“Now, Ms Skeeter, I hardly think that’s appropriate, Auror Potter likes to have a great deal of privacy and this would infringe upon his rights-”
“Yes, yes,” Rita waves her hand, cutting him short. “I know just how just how well he likes his privacy. However, I think my readers deserve a little look into the life of the Boy-Who-Lived. He’s been hiding away for years, they deserve to know something.” Ginny’s face pales and from the corner of her eye she can see Ron’s red with outrage as he holds onto Hermione’s hand - probably to stop her from losing her professionalism and hexing Skeeter into next week. “I mean,” Skeeter’s tone is placating now, perhaps she’s seen and taken note of the backs that have stiffened defensively at her comment. “Readers would be more interested if you use this tool on a more prominent member of society. Then they’d know that it really works and isn’t a fake. It’s a game of give and take, Minister. Give them a little, and you’ll have their full backing, no complaints or opposition when you introduce the plans to use it in trials - apart from the criminals of course. Give them Harry Potter, and you won’t regret it.”
“I highly doubt-”
“Does anyone else want to get a look into the life behind the walls that the Chosen One’s put up?” Rita glances around smugly when more than a few sets of eyes shine with interest. “You’ve been outvoted, come on, Minister. Harry Potter has the strongest Wards I’ve ever seen. No one can get through them, so if this tool really works as well as Monkstanley claims it does, then it should be a piece of cake.”
Ginny can see the basic manipulation for what it is, and her heart sinks as she sees her boss fall for it and begin casting the spells needed to activate the tool.
“What date-”
“The twenty-first of August,” Ginny isn’t even aware that she’s spoken until everyone turns to stare at her and she flushes. She doesn’t want Rita to suggest a date that might reveal something private, and if she remembers correctly, Harry was on forced leave from the Aurors to recover from a case that had almost killed him… again. Surely, watching five minutes of the Boy Who Lived lounging on the sofa, doing paperwork and grumbling about being forced to take time off will help end the fascination that the public has with him.
Monkstanley nods and speaks clearly. “Where was Harry Potter on the twenty first of August this year at eleven thirty in the morning?”
The picture flickers to life once again, and this time they see Harry stretched out on the sofa, piles of papers surrounding him. As the picture focuses and more details become apparent, they can see he’s smiling at a picture… a certificate, perhaps, and catch sight of the words, 25th June 2006, Mr Richardon’s Estate, written underneath. The rest is hidden from view by his body, and as Monkstanley begins to wave her wand to turn the image and view it from another angle, Harry yawns and gets up, placing the parchment back into a black folder before he leaves the room and the scene ends.
“That wasn’t enough!”
“Ms Skeeter!”
Hermione steps forward, wand in hand, as Monkstanley snaps, and everyone else can only watch in horror as Rita pulls off a mangled parody of the smooth, practised wand movements Monkstanley used and shouts out, “Where was Harry Potter on the twenty fifth of June?”
The dish doesn’t do anything for a moment, and then all but bursts into flame, pictures and sounds flickering through the air too fast for the room’s occupants to keep track of, and then falls still as an image of Harry solidifies and begins to play.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
Blaise and Narcissa are stood in the background, faces calm and neutral as Harry, dressed in a simple, white robe, moves to stand in front of Draco, a single barely opened white rose clasped in his hand. He’s been waiting for this day for months, his entire life in fact, and yet at the same time he’s terrified and nervous and excited all at once. Once they take this step, they’re bound together for eternity. They’ve managed to keep their relationship a secret so far and out of the papers, mostly due to Harry’s insanely thick Wards and the use of several Glamours or Polyjuice whenever they go out, and it’s a little daunting to think that if someone were to find out now, the fall out would be so much worse than if they were just fuck buddies or even if they were only getting married. But this, undergoing the Ceremony of the Roses, binding himself to his Master, preparing to give himself mind body and soul… it’s terrifying. However, once he meets Master’s eyes, steely grey calm, collected and tender, he feels his anxieties fade away. This is Draco, his Draco. And just like over the past ten years, he has only Harry’s best interests at heart. His love, his Dominance, his control, it’s all for Harry, because he needs it.
And he’s ready.
Draco’s dressed in matching black robes with a fully bloomed red rose to match Harry’s as he too steps forward until Harry’s within arm’s reach; and then he smiles, a tender expression that fills his eyes with warmth as he regards his lover and reaches out with hands that he has to fight to keep steady when he cups Harry’s cheek softly and then reaches down to remove Harry’s training collar.
Both roses are released to Hover by their sides, and gone is the tatty, cracked leather, faded and discoloured with age; and one of Harry’s hands lifts as though to touch his neck in shock that it’s truly removed, when Draco catches it in his own and brings Harry’s fingers to his lips, kissing the tips softly as their eyes meet and Harry smiles, radiant and reassured.
“I’ve got you.”
The same words he whispered that first night they played together, when he brought Harry to the cusp, broke him so that he could give him exactly what he wanted, what he needed, which was someone to care solely for him. Someone who would value him above all others. Someone to keep him in check when things got too wild, too uncontrollable; to ground him. Master Draco is all that and more, commanding his respect, his obedience, his submission and Harry loves to give it to him, wants to give it to him. So he does.
Draco smiles once more as Harry relaxes under his touch, and then lifts Harry’s new, permanent collar from the satin covered pillow Master Richardson’s holding out for him. It’s beautiful, Goblin-made of the finest Dragonhide, thinned and tanned to perfection, the deep obsidian tone highlighted by the glints of darkened emerald green and sapphire that become visible when the light tilts just so; and inlaid with links of sterling silver, crushed and moulded into tiny little infinity symbols, that almost seem to hum from the protective and binding magic they’re imbued with.
“This collar is enchanted, as you both requested. Once fastened, it will be unbreakable. You will not be able to unfasten it again, be unfaithful, or to separate. It is more binding than marriage, and there is no party on Earth that will be able to dissolve this bond between you, once it’s made.”
Draco meets Harry’s eyes once more, silver-grey latching onto emerald green, offering up one last chance in case he’s changed his mind, but Harry’s sure and so Draco carefully passes the collar through the small flames Master Richardson Conjures, and then fastens it around Harry’s neck, the lock melding into another infinity symbol and the buckles fusing together so that it’s one single loop without beginning or end.
“Draco, do you wish to take this submissive as your own, truly and completely?” Harry breathes in deeply, and then kneels, smile radiant as the sun as Master Richardson speaks and Draco nods.
“Harry, I give you this collar as a symbol of my ownership. I pledge to love you, stretch your limits, keep you safe and offer you the discipline and affection that you need. I promise to honour, cherish and protect you with all that I am and ever shall be, to defend you until my last breath. I accept this role, seriously and truthfully, and will always value the trust you have placed in me. I will love you now and forever, in this life and the next. Thank you for accepting this collar.”
Draco smiles down at Harry as Master Richardson speaks again, “Harry, are you willing to accept your place as your Master’s submissive, to honour and obey his will, and do as he asks of you?”
“Master, I humbly accept this collar as a symbol of your ownership of me. To you I pledge my love, my obedience and my servitude. I know that, as your property, I will be looked after and tended to with the utmost care. I know that I will receive both the affection and the discipline that I require; the control that only you can offer that will fulfil my needs. In return, I offer to you the gift of myself; mind, body and soul, now and for eternity. Thank you for allowing me to serve you and for making me yours.”
Draco reaches for the roses, the deep red colour the perfect complement to the pure white of Harry’s as he takes Harry’s hand and pricks a finger carefully on one of the thorns of the red rose, allowing only a couple of drops of blood to fall onto the white roses petals before he does the same, allowing one droplet to fall next to Harry’s, and the other directly on top. The red of their blood perfectly offsets the whiteness of the petals, and Draco can feel Harry’s happiness as their pricked fingers press together, their blood blending together in significance of the bond they’ve just completed, binding their souls together as they mix their blood, and Harry feels almost overwhelmed with the rush of love and adoration he feels that is clearly shared by his Master, reflected in his grey eyes.
Blaise and Narcissa move then, each holding an end of a length of fine gold chain, and pass that too through the flames as Draco helps Harry to stand after Healing the small cut, and then it’s wrapped around them, a physical symbol of the binding of their souls as they each repeat their vow to each other; their roses are pressed together, and exchanged, and it’s almost over when the chain is carefully unravelled and wrapped in a cloth that seems to shine like the stars with every rippling movement.
“You are mine.”
Harry nods, teary eyed but in the right way as his Master cups his face in his hands and kisses him deeply, teeth nipping at his lower lip and tongue tracing the contours of his mouth, teasing and coaxing soft whimpers from the back of his throat as his eyes flutter shut and his hands slide up to grip at Draco’s back and shoulders, legs suddenly feeling too weak to support his weight.
As they kiss, the roses are taken, held reverently and placed into a simple vase which is to be sent along with the wrapped chain to the bed chamber that’s been set aside for them to use once the collaring ceremony is complete. Content for the moment, Draco pulls back slowly, pressing three more lingering yet chaste kisses to Harry’s swollen lips and then takes his hand, turning them to receive the applause and congratulations from their witnesses and Master Richardson.
Tender kisses are exchanged as the five sit down for a short meal, rich foods that are seen only at the finest and most notable of Pureblood Wizarding Balls, before Harry is ordered to go to their bedroom and prepare himself for his Master.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
The scene ends, and everyone inside of the room is frozen for a second, the only sound the scratching of Rita’s Quick Notes Quill as even she stands still and shocked, staring into the empty space where they just watched Harry Potter bond his soul and pledge his submission to Draco Malfoy.
And then the penny drops, reporters remember that they have WiziCams recording the entire meeting and the writing gold that their reports are going to be if they can be the first to get the pictures printed and their column out with the evening post.
Through the shocked buzz in her mind, Ginny hears Ron shouting to Hermione that they need to let Harry know about this… whatever this is; because regardless of his surprise, they’re still best mates and the time for histrionics is not now.
It’s too late for damage control, even as Kingsley shouts for Aurors to prevent anyone from leaving and to Summon a team of Obliviators - because he knows that things have gone too far, that he should have banned fucking Skeeter from even entering the building, that this has seriously infringed upon Harry’s rights and he’s going to be pissed as hell when it gets out - there’s too much confusion, too much noise for him to be heard, and Rita uses the pandemonium to change into her Animagus form and slip out unnoticed.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
Rita’s Extra Special Limited Edition Early Afternoon Spread is sent out at the same time as Harry and Draco are making their way back into the main part of Grimmauld after a pleasant afternoon in the Play Room, and almost as soon as they unlock their Floo - closed beforehand to prevent anyone from coming through and coming across something they shouldn’t - Ron’s head appears in the flames, freckles standing out in stark relief against his unusually pale face despite the green tinge the flames cast.
“Harry? Malfoy? Harry!”
Draco starts and almost drops a glass as Ron’s bellow echoes throughout the house, and Harry hurries to answer, fear for his friends and family the prominent emotion from the tone of his voice. Is it Hermione? Teddy? Molly or Arthur?
“Who’s hurt?”
“No one, I- have you heard from anyone else yet?”
“No, Draco and I were…” he blushes, and make a strange little jerky motion with his hands, pointing upwards and outwards and not really doing anything at the same time as he hopes Ron will take that as them being in the bedroom and back off like they all do whenever someone’s sex life comes up. Best friends they may be, but there are some things you just don’t share. “Was I supposed to?”
Ron looks positively sick now, and Harry doesn’t even realise how tense he’s gotten until he feels Draco’s hands kneading the muscles in his shoulders. Ron blanches, and the tension snaps right back. Ron hasn’t reacted like that to Draco in years, so something must be wrong.
“Tell me.”
“You remember I told you about the interdepartmental meeting that was scheduled for this morning in the Unspeakables Department?” Harry nods, as does Draco. “It was some new tool they’d developed, it allowed you to see-”
The squawking and scratching of the post owl at the closed window cuts Ron off, and he can only watch in horror as Harry ignores his request to stay there and ignore the bloody owl and hear what he has to say in favour of letting it in to pay and retrieve the paper even though he ‘didn’t order an afternoon edition’ and moves towards Draco before he opens it out.
And freezes, horror etched across his face.
HARRY POTTER AND DRACO MALFOY TAKE PART IN LURID BDSM CEREMONY.
Today, my dear readers, I came across a most disturbing nugget of information. While attending a presentation by the Unspeakable Department of the Ministry of Magic (it’s all top secret hush-hush so I can’t go into more detail) it was revealed that our very own Saviour has taken part in a Dark ceremony with none other than ‘ex’ Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Potter was seen pledging his soul and servitude to Malfoy before being collared and taking part in a Blood Magic Ritual which seems horrifically reminiscent of the confessions made about You Know Who’s own Marking ceremonies during his rise to power in the First Wizarding War. Could Malfoy, who’s worked suspiciously hard over the past ten years to cast all doubt and dark shadows from the Malfoy name, be attempting to bring back or emulate He Who Must Not Be Named, but with the backing and support of the Boy Who Lived? This reporter certainly hopes not, and shares this story with you most urgently to ask you to help Mr Potter see the light and to leave behind the corruption that Malfoy is sure to bring. Harry, if you’re reading this, it’s not too late to put things right.
See more… p2.
Readers’ responses… p3.
BSDM and Dark Rituals, how are they connected?.. p6.
“Shit.”
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
It’s less than an hour before the first Howler arrives, and it’s almost like that is the one that opens the floodgates. And it’s only a short matter of time before the house is filled with outraged shrieking and heavy amount of vitriol and profanity spewed towards Draco, and tearful begging for Harry to ‘save his soul and come back to the light’. There are even a few proposals in there, offers of marriage, money, land or power if Harry turns away from the ‘Death Eater scumbag’ who must have Imperiused him in order to get their Golden Boy to even think of willingly touching him.
Eventually, when the third piece of Cursed post almost reaches Draco, Harry has to raise a whole new set of Wards on the house, so that anything with malicious or harmful intent can’t pass through and the poor owls being forced to make the deliveries have to hurriedly turn back to return them to their senders or face losing more than a few tail feathers when they explode open.
Unsurprisingly, the post keeps coming, albeit more slowly, but with the new Ward it’s all of the positive kind. Letters of support drown out the calls for Draco to be thrown into Azkaban, messages from other witches and wizards who are in the lifestyle too but struggle to accept it, or to find acceptance from outward sources… in only a few days they’ve run the gamut from both being accused of being Dark wizards to being an inspiration and poster boys for alternative lifestyles everywhere.
They’ve all but barricaded themselves indoors, locked themselves away from the world after they make several furious firecalls to Kingsley and demand that he sorts it out, otherwise there’ll be much more severe legal action.
Lawyers are involved because this has gone way past the realm of eavesdropping and into serious violation of public rights to privacy and there must be a law out there somewhere that says things that are found out in such a way can’t be made public without at least consulting the person who it concerns first.
And just when things start to be calming down, Skeeter releases pictures and a video clip along with more reams of her acidic ‘prose’, and Harry loses it. Their special day, their private, special, precious collaring ceremony, something that no one other than those invited even should know about is now public knowledge and has been seen worldwide. Their deepest, most emotional connection has just been sold to the Wizarding World for two knuts a piece by a bottle blonde bitch who just doesn’t know when to quit and has absolutely no concept of respect, privacy or the word ‘no’.
He breaks down, temper frayed to the last nerve as the image of Draco placing the collar around his neck and speaking those soft, sweet, firm, promises that meant everything to him blinks up at him from the front page of The Daily Prophet; threatens to kill her, and almost gets out the door, Elder Wand in hand, before Draco can stop him and restrain him, and then he sobs, helpless and hurt and angry, so angry, because there’s next to nothing he can do and he hates it.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
It’s almost two weeks before he can bear to go back in the Play Room, but Draco, as his boyfriend and his Master, understands and gives him the time he needs to be angry, be hurt, be disgusted, to cry in his arms and spend time on his own thinking things through before he returns and lets his Master take care of him; soothe away his hurts and reassure him the way that he needs so he can ignore the rest of the fuckers out there who are making one sided judgements without knowing the truth, who will never know the bliss and pleasure he receives from submitting, who will never understand that he needs it like he needs air to breathe, if not more so.
Christmas at the Burrow is tense, no one quite knows where to look or what to say at first, though the presence of the children definitely makes things far less awkward than they might have been, and by the end of the day, things are somewhat normal. Still, that echo of shock and unease surrounds most of their family, and Draco and Harry leave relatively early to far too few protests after talking to Ron and Hermione about their plan of, well, it’s not exactly revenge, more just attempting to put everything back to rights… as much as they can be at least.
They struggle through the next few weeks, Harry’s on a permanent leave of absence from the Aurors until the trial is over and done with, and he’s already made it clear to Kingsley that if Skeeter and whoever else agreed to use that damned tool in the first place don’t get justly punished, he’ll quit and he’ll bring the entire Ministry down with him when he leaves. He knows that he’s threatening Kingsley directly, but he doesn’t care, not when Draco’s starting to get sick from the stress and the constant calls for his head on a stick, the fact that they can’t even set foot outside, because a regardless of whether they’re in a Muggle or Magical area, the press always finds them, and following the press are the crowds, and being heckled once is one time too many. Being told that he should drop Draco and instead, marry a ‘nice young girl who can give him children and set him back on the straight and narrow’ so that he ‘sets a good example to the younger generations, is most definitely not okay, and he hates that Kingsley even let it come down to this.
Finally, finally, at the end of January, the trial is brought to a close and Skeeter is placed in Azkaban for libel, slander, trespassing and harassment, much to the joy of every person she’s ever victimised. It’s only for three years, but her license to practice journalism is also revoked, she’s fined a hefty amount in recompense towards Draco and Harry for the trouble she’s caused them - they donate the Galleons to charity because neither of them wants nor needs her tainted money - and she’s served a restraining order, one that’s attuned to Harry and Draco’s magical signatures and has the effect like they’ve dropped from her consciousness. She’ll no longer be able to contact them, to see them, to even think of them. If she looks at one of her old articles from this whole debacle, she’ll just see blank sheets of parchment. Anything and everything between them is now gone.
But despite all that, it’s still tough. Harry considers going back to work, but decides against it. The Ministry’s just caused him close to four months of pain and heartache, and he doesn’t want to play along with them anymore. They’ve burnt their bridges with Harry Potter, and they’ll regret it forever. Hermione meanwhile, has been working on a new spell. It’s a far-reaching combination of Incendio and the Obliteration Charm, keyed in to certain items, namely the revealing articles Skeeter wrote and any Pensieve memories she may have and even potentially sold. They can only test so much on old newspapers until it works flawlessly, but even then it’s close range, so they have no idea whether it works or not when Hermione Casts it over a city at a time which takes her almost two weeks and leaves her magically exhausted by the time she’s done.
With that done, it’s time for them to make their final stand, to do what many probably would have advised doing from the start but which Draco and Harry felt would only have fanned the flames more, rather than to bank them.
oOo~HP.DM~oOo
April 2007.
“I’ve called you all here today to deal with the recent reveals about Draco Malfoy and myself. Since people felt it was prudent for them to intrude on our lives, rights and privacy, and refuse to leave us alone now that certain… truths have been revealed, we feel that it’s necessary we at least had the chance to defend ourselves.”
Harry levels a hard look at the crowd of eager faces, press and public, desperate to hear what he has to say on the news that has exploded and taken over everyone’s lives the past few weeks, and relaxes minutely as Draco steps up beside him, a hand resting on his lower back, out of sight of the crowd’s hungry eyes but offering silent support all the same.
“Yes, Draco and I are in a relationship. We have been for a little over ten years now. The intricacies of our relationship are none of your business. My life, our life, is not for hire. My privacy is just that, my privacy and I expect it to be respected. I sacrificed myself to save the Wizarding World once, for you to keep your noses out shouldn’t have been too much to ask. Evidently it was. So I’ll say this only once. Anyone found to be prying into my private life will be handed straight over to us to be dealt with. If you want to find yourself on the end of the wand of the man who defeated Voldemort then carry on as you have been. If you’d like to live a full life, then back off.”
“That’ll do, love. If they didn’t get the warning from that and heed your advice then there’s nothing more we can do except to deal with the idiots as they continue.”
The hand presses against his lower back, gently but firmly once more, a silent order to go with the spoken command, guiding him away from the podium as the Minister takes over smoothly, further underlining the consequences that will befall anyone who dares intrude upon Harry and Draco’s lives after that.
“Back to work?”
“No,” Draco smiles and takes Harry’s hand, a short laugh on his lips as emerald green eyes meet and hold his, narrowed with curiosity and wonder. “I booked the afternoon off. The past few weeks have been especially stressful for you, pet. I think an early start to the weekend is in order, don’t you?”
A bright grin lights up Harry’s face as Draco tugs him along towards the Atrium, his mind already spinning with the scenarios his boyfriend and Master might have planned.
“Yes, Master.”
~ THE END ~