(fic) HP -- Wings Eclipsing Night pt.10; HP/DM
Wings Eclipsing Night
Part 10: Eggshell Wings
by KC
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.
Other info: Post-HBP, dark!Harry, veela!Draco.
Summary: A little crack in Draco's cage.
previous chapters: Beneath a Shattered Fountain, Angel on a Leash, Wings Underfoot, Bedroom Ornaments, Resilient Madness, Falling in Love with the Cage, Players on the Board, Rare Reward, Summer in Winter
Eggshell Wings
Following Harry like a candle in the dark, Draco heard nothing on the way to the Great Hall, only his master's footsteps. He wondered if Harry had a silencing charm on the castle, or if his master kept the hallways clear whenever his veela was allowed out of his cage. Draco decided to ask later, but only if Harry was in a good mood.
"We're here," Harry said for his benefit. He led him up the steps to the throne, guiding him to the floor. "Just sit and look lost and scared."
With a nod, Draco found his cushion by touch and sat. He didn't have the luxury of draping himself in Harry's lap, so he huddled against the throne and brought his legs up off the stone floor. Empty of hundreds of students and candles, the Great Hall was always cold, and his wings felt as if they were covered in ice. He opened his mouth to ask Harry for a warmth charm, but then the doors opened again and he had to turn away.
A dozen different footsteps came towards the throne, all of them heavy and important, but they slowed when they noticed that something wasn't right. Harry's pet, as they usually referred to Draco outside Lucius' hearing, always lounged against Harry's side, head in their lord's lap or on his shoulder, his wings clipped and still.
Today the royal pet looked broken. There was no other word for it. Draco held himself together, certainly, but his wings weren't gracefully curled. One lay caught between him and the throne, the other hanging open and dragging down his back. His head lowered as they came in. His shoulders slumped at an angle. And when they saw his eyes, his pure white eyes--
"There's no need to be afraid," Harry said, addressing his ministers.
Draco felt his master's hand stroke his hair, and he made a show of tensing up and making his wing fasteners clink. Keeping still was surprisingly difficult when Harry's fingers made him want to close his eyes and nuzzle in return.
"He's merely being punished," Harry continued. "Now, I believe you had some concerns you wished to raise? Changes you think are important?"
"Nothing--nothing as dramatic as that, my lord," came a nervous laugh that grew smaller and smaller. "Merely some ideas we'd hoped to bring to your attention."
"Yes," another said. "Suggestions, nothing more."
Draco frowned slightly. Being blind meant he couldn't match voices to faces, although he would've sworn before that he could recognize the purebloods without seeing them. Perhaps Harry had chosen a few mudbloods for his vassals over his father's recommendations.
His father.
Draco tensed. His father was here. He had to be. Harry had told him not to be late to this meeting. What did Lucius think about seeing his son like this? Bad enough he was a half-breed. How did his father stand looking at him like this? Lucius hadn't said anything yet. Did he even notice him?
"Come now," Lucius finally spoke in annoyance. "You said yourself you had to see our master on pressing matters. Surely suggestions alone aren't pressing."
"That--that depends on the suggestion, doesn't it?"
Snorting would have ruined the illusion, but Draco nearly let slip listening to their stammering. Judging from what Harry had said earlier, he imagined that these men had grown confident as weeks went by without numerous executions or imprisonment, growing comfortable with the power they had been granted. As his father had told him before, from time to time a king had to use force to show he was in control. It was a lesson Draco kept in mind, lest he prompt Harry to use force against him again.
The vassals' list of problems came in a haphazard rush -- a young dragon accidentally released in London, some troubles collecting taxes that turned out to be fool's gold, a few people arrested fleeing towards the border. Draco wondered why they didn't simply apologize and beg forgiveness. It was clear they were drawing these examples from memory.
When they brought up a handful of children buzzing drunk muggles on a flying carpet, Harry sighed explosively.
"Oh for the love of..." He leaned forward in his seat. "Just how stupid do you think I am?"
"I--I--I--my lord..."
"Children on carpets? You think that's a pressing enough matter to bring before me?" Harry stood up, taking a step towards them. "Just because I haven't put heads on pikes outside this castle doesn't mean I'm weaker than Voldemort was. Just because I haven't locked people in Azkaban forever doesn't mean I'm a child you can push around."
"My lord, we meant no insult--"
"You little lying coward," Harry cut him off. "You changed your tune the moment you saw that I punish as I see fit. Lucius?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"You were right," he said. "Start getting rid of the dead weight around here, and begin with this bunch."
"As you wish."
The reply was delivered properly, but somehow Lucius sounded as cold as an executioner. Draco would swear he could hear satisfaction in his father's voice.
"Lucius..." Harry said in warning. "Don't forget yourself."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius said, some of his eagerness fading. "No heads on pikes."
"Or torture," Harry added. He turned his attention back on his former officials. "It's a shame, really. I didn't want Malfoy choosing nothing but purebloods for my vassals, but look where that got me."
Protests followed from his former vassals, a few that turned loud and angry, much to Draco's surprise. Harry clearly didn't want to kill or hurt anyone, but the world took that as a weakness. If they didn't watch themselves, Draco thought, they'd force Harry's hand soon enough.
Finally Harry sighed and raised his wand. Everyone froze or gasped as he blasted one of them out of the hall, sending him sliding across the floor and out the doors.
"Are the rest of you going to leave or do I have to send you flying after him?" Harry demanded.
Of all the men rushing out, Draco easily picked out his father's shoes tapping softly and unhurried. A victory for Lucius, since he would use this as permission to weed a few mudbloods from power and thus cement his own authority further. His footsteps paused halfway, however, hesitating before he left.
"My lord..." Lucius murmured. His voice low and soft, he didn't sound like himself. Draco imagined him grasping his cane as he did when he became unsure.
"Yes, Lucius?"
"My lord, if Draco's punishment comes from what we discussed in the garden, please--we did our best not trip over sensitive matters, but if we failed in that, please don't blame him. Let it fall on us. We should have steered the conversation away from--well, away from politics and--"
Harry chuckled, silencing him. Beside the throne, Draco held still. He loved his master's voice, but listening to that low laugh made his stomach knot up. Harry laughed like that when he walked the line between himself and Voldemort, pulling strings and controlling the people around him.
"Your family is so strange," Harry said. "You can't touch him, but you'd take his punishment on your own head?"
For a moment, Lucius couldn't speak, not trusting his own voice as he gathered himself.
"I was taught that mixed blood was responsible for all the sins of the world," he said softly. "Breaking a lifetime of lies from people I trusted is not easy."
Quietly considering, Harry sat down and put his hand on Draco's head, petting his hair. In turn, Draco turned himself more comfortably on his cushion and let his wings curl naturally again. Harry only touched him like this to comfort him, and he soaked it in shamelessly.
"Tell me," Harry said, "if Draco wasn't at my side, if you had the chance to make him one of my vassals, would you? At your side again, in your home, with his terrible wings so close?"
Draco's breath caught. Cruel, unutterably cruel to force him to hear this. How could Harry act gentle and then ask something like that? Waiting was an agony. Hearing his father's answer, he was sure, could kill him. Long seconds passed.
"Yes," Lucius said so softly Draco almost didn't hear him. "It would be hard. But yes."
Wishing he could see, thankful that he couldn't see, Draco lifted his head. His whole body felt lighter. His wings flared until his fasteners snapped tight, but for a moment he felt like he could fly.
Smiling, Harry sighed and leaned back.
"At least you're fighting it," he said, half to himself. "You do your family credit. As for Draco's punishment, don't worry. I only took his sight for this meeting as a demonstration. In fact, I just expected him to sit there. He came up with dramatically dangling that wing on his own."
"You said to look broken," Draco murmured with a smile.
"Thank you," Lucius breathed, regaining some of his confidence and forcing his attention back to work. "I'll deal with cutting out some of the dead weight later today, but first I need to attend to matters in the country."
"Fine," Harry said. "Send me a report as soon as you can."
Lucius nodded, or at least Draco imagined he did. A moment later, the heavy front doors closed, leaving them alone in the hall. Harry reached around and grasped Draco's collar, tugging him close. Draco needed little prodding. He turned and rose up on his knees, hands crossed on the arm of Harry's throne as he waited.
He heard the metallic scrape of a jar's lid being unscrewed, and then Harry's hand cupped his cheek to hold him still. Feeling as if a cool breeze played over his eyes, the darkness turned to a bright blur that filled in with colors, grey and black for the walls, orange spots for the firelight, and one blur in front of him that focused and grew sharp with a kiss.
"Good veela," Harry murmured.
"Really?" Draco smiled, basking in the praise.
"Yes, very good. Now there'll be rumors of how evil Lord Potter punishes his most helpless plaything, and I won't have to kill anyone or torture them into obedience." He sighed. "Well, not for awhile, at least. Until I have to do this all over again."
Now that his sight had been returned, Draco luxuriated in looking in Harry's eyes and feeling his touch in his thoughts. He wished Harry would find a way to get rid of his glasses. Behind the lenses, his green eyes looked like they shone from within. The feel of his master examining his memories no longer felt like a rake scraping over his brain, but rather like Harry's fingers sifting through his thoughts like sand. Perhaps it was because he wasn't actively searching for anything, just enjoying the feel of Draco's emotions.
"Very good," Harry repeated in a low voice. "Ask for something. Anything. You've earned a reward."
Reward?
Anything?
His joy and eagerness made him drunk. The answer came to his lips before he could think of how stupid he was.
"Outside," he whispered. "In the sun and the wind--"
Harry's green eyes widened. For the first time, Draco saw Harry unguarded, afraid, vulnerable.
Betrayed.
Oh no, Draco thought, but he didn't think the words. He just knew a flash of panic and dread. The hand around his collar released, and he fell back in surprise. Harry walked away, abandoning him in the empty chamber. The echoes of his footsteps sounded hollow and cold.
Stupid, stupid, stupid--he knew Harry thought he was trying to escape. He was locked in chains in a cage, for God's sake! He couldn't have frightened Harry more if he'd sat on the window sill and spread his wings.
If Harry left--Draco licked his lips and opened his mouth, trying to think of something to call him back. Something, anything to keep him from leaving, because he knew if Harry opened the door and left right now, there would be no salvaging this. The farther Harry went, the closer to the door, the greater the panic until all human thought was pushed out and Draco was left with his mindless veela heart, willing to do anything to keep his mate.
In an instant he'd ruined Harry's trust. In another instant he bargained his body away with wild abandon.
"Break my wings!"
Harry froze. Turning slightly, not enough to see Draco, he hesitated.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Draco said, fighting to control his voice even as his throat grew tight. "I know you're scared I'll leave and I didn't think--I just wanted--after being in the bedroom and the cage--"
He cut himself off. That wasn't important. He wasn't important. He had to focus, fight to wrest control back from his veela aspect.
"Break my wings," he said again. "You're scared I'll fly away. Break them. Then I can't leave you."
About to plead and beg, he choked as Harry turned and faced him. Harry was stone, blank faced as he came back, dead as he stood over Draco and looked down at him. Draco swallowed once, tried not to noisily drag in each breath and failed, and looked up at Harry. He wished Harry would look into his mind again to see that he didn't want to escape. There was no touch in his thoughts.
Slowly, as if afraid Draco's wings would burn him, Harry reached out with both hands and clasped Draco's right wing just beneath its golden fastener. Draco didn't move, didn't look away. Harry's hands tightened, dug into the thin membrane of skin, and they both felt how strong his hands were, how thin the bones felt beneath his callused palms. Harry took a deep breath and began pushing the two bones together.
The top arch of Draco's wing ached, then burned, then grew unbearably tight. A little more pressure and it would snap like a quill. Would Harry force him to heal naturally or would he heal the wing later after a change of heart?
Would he let him heal at all?
He imagined himself dragging two broken wings on the floor, the white edges turned dark grey from dirt and grime as he crawled. And Harry, always Harry in front of him, beside him, ready to step on his wings and pin him down, breaking him so no one else would want him. His mate--made of stone and implacable--but his mate all the same.
Draco closed his eyes and lowered his head.
Release. Harry breathed out, let go and took a step back. Draco knew he was looking at him, studying him. He didn't look back. If he looked, Harry might change his mind again. Might leave him here. If he didn't move, Harry might not move, and then they'd stay in the room forever and nothing would change. That was better than being left alone. Draco knew he wasn't thinking rationally and couldn't remember what rational was.
"We'll go outside," Harry breathed.
Draco held still, a statue beside his master's throne.
"For dinner," Harry continued. "A picnic. At sunset. Just us."
A pause. Draco chanced looking up, not into Harry's face but at his hand.
"Thank you."
The familiar hand on his hair, the reassuring touch. Draco shuddered and leaned against Harry's leg. Something terrible had just passed him over. The danger wasn't gone, but he had a chance of surviving it now.
They walked back to the bedroom in silence. Draco crept into his cage and watched as Harry locked it, tugging the lock twice to make sure it was sealed. Harry stared at him for a moment, then faced the wall and locked all the windows, binding them with several charms as if they were being attacked.
"I have to go," Harry said when he finished. "I need to ward where we'll be eating."
He took a step back as if not sure what he was doing, dazed and confused at himself, then disappeared down the ladder. A heavy click came from the trapdoor. Another lock.
Releasing a heavy breath, Draco finally let himself relax. His wing throbbed with a growing bruise that was worse than lying slashed and bloody beneath Voldemort. That was worse than the war itself. Was this what his father had done when Lucius knelt before Voldemort and then later Harry, surrendered himself to assuage his master's temper? That suicidal sacrifice...
Perhaps it was Lucius' veela heritage that taught him. Perhaps they simply knew how to appease their owners.
Alone in his cage, Draco curled his perfect, intact wings around himself like an eggshell and watched the sun begin to sink to the horizon.
TBC...
Scribbled Mask
Part 10: Eggshell Wings
by KC
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.
Other info: Post-HBP, dark!Harry, veela!Draco.
Summary: A little crack in Draco's cage.
previous chapters: Beneath a Shattered Fountain, Angel on a Leash, Wings Underfoot, Bedroom Ornaments, Resilient Madness, Falling in Love with the Cage, Players on the Board, Rare Reward, Summer in Winter
Eggshell Wings
Following Harry like a candle in the dark, Draco heard nothing on the way to the Great Hall, only his master's footsteps. He wondered if Harry had a silencing charm on the castle, or if his master kept the hallways clear whenever his veela was allowed out of his cage. Draco decided to ask later, but only if Harry was in a good mood.
"We're here," Harry said for his benefit. He led him up the steps to the throne, guiding him to the floor. "Just sit and look lost and scared."
With a nod, Draco found his cushion by touch and sat. He didn't have the luxury of draping himself in Harry's lap, so he huddled against the throne and brought his legs up off the stone floor. Empty of hundreds of students and candles, the Great Hall was always cold, and his wings felt as if they were covered in ice. He opened his mouth to ask Harry for a warmth charm, but then the doors opened again and he had to turn away.
A dozen different footsteps came towards the throne, all of them heavy and important, but they slowed when they noticed that something wasn't right. Harry's pet, as they usually referred to Draco outside Lucius' hearing, always lounged against Harry's side, head in their lord's lap or on his shoulder, his wings clipped and still.
Today the royal pet looked broken. There was no other word for it. Draco held himself together, certainly, but his wings weren't gracefully curled. One lay caught between him and the throne, the other hanging open and dragging down his back. His head lowered as they came in. His shoulders slumped at an angle. And when they saw his eyes, his pure white eyes--
"There's no need to be afraid," Harry said, addressing his ministers.
Draco felt his master's hand stroke his hair, and he made a show of tensing up and making his wing fasteners clink. Keeping still was surprisingly difficult when Harry's fingers made him want to close his eyes and nuzzle in return.
"He's merely being punished," Harry continued. "Now, I believe you had some concerns you wished to raise? Changes you think are important?"
"Nothing--nothing as dramatic as that, my lord," came a nervous laugh that grew smaller and smaller. "Merely some ideas we'd hoped to bring to your attention."
"Yes," another said. "Suggestions, nothing more."
Draco frowned slightly. Being blind meant he couldn't match voices to faces, although he would've sworn before that he could recognize the purebloods without seeing them. Perhaps Harry had chosen a few mudbloods for his vassals over his father's recommendations.
His father.
Draco tensed. His father was here. He had to be. Harry had told him not to be late to this meeting. What did Lucius think about seeing his son like this? Bad enough he was a half-breed. How did his father stand looking at him like this? Lucius hadn't said anything yet. Did he even notice him?
"Come now," Lucius finally spoke in annoyance. "You said yourself you had to see our master on pressing matters. Surely suggestions alone aren't pressing."
"That--that depends on the suggestion, doesn't it?"
Snorting would have ruined the illusion, but Draco nearly let slip listening to their stammering. Judging from what Harry had said earlier, he imagined that these men had grown confident as weeks went by without numerous executions or imprisonment, growing comfortable with the power they had been granted. As his father had told him before, from time to time a king had to use force to show he was in control. It was a lesson Draco kept in mind, lest he prompt Harry to use force against him again.
The vassals' list of problems came in a haphazard rush -- a young dragon accidentally released in London, some troubles collecting taxes that turned out to be fool's gold, a few people arrested fleeing towards the border. Draco wondered why they didn't simply apologize and beg forgiveness. It was clear they were drawing these examples from memory.
When they brought up a handful of children buzzing drunk muggles on a flying carpet, Harry sighed explosively.
"Oh for the love of..." He leaned forward in his seat. "Just how stupid do you think I am?"
"I--I--I--my lord..."
"Children on carpets? You think that's a pressing enough matter to bring before me?" Harry stood up, taking a step towards them. "Just because I haven't put heads on pikes outside this castle doesn't mean I'm weaker than Voldemort was. Just because I haven't locked people in Azkaban forever doesn't mean I'm a child you can push around."
"My lord, we meant no insult--"
"You little lying coward," Harry cut him off. "You changed your tune the moment you saw that I punish as I see fit. Lucius?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"You were right," he said. "Start getting rid of the dead weight around here, and begin with this bunch."
"As you wish."
The reply was delivered properly, but somehow Lucius sounded as cold as an executioner. Draco would swear he could hear satisfaction in his father's voice.
"Lucius..." Harry said in warning. "Don't forget yourself."
"Yes, my lord," Lucius said, some of his eagerness fading. "No heads on pikes."
"Or torture," Harry added. He turned his attention back on his former officials. "It's a shame, really. I didn't want Malfoy choosing nothing but purebloods for my vassals, but look where that got me."
Protests followed from his former vassals, a few that turned loud and angry, much to Draco's surprise. Harry clearly didn't want to kill or hurt anyone, but the world took that as a weakness. If they didn't watch themselves, Draco thought, they'd force Harry's hand soon enough.
Finally Harry sighed and raised his wand. Everyone froze or gasped as he blasted one of them out of the hall, sending him sliding across the floor and out the doors.
"Are the rest of you going to leave or do I have to send you flying after him?" Harry demanded.
Of all the men rushing out, Draco easily picked out his father's shoes tapping softly and unhurried. A victory for Lucius, since he would use this as permission to weed a few mudbloods from power and thus cement his own authority further. His footsteps paused halfway, however, hesitating before he left.
"My lord..." Lucius murmured. His voice low and soft, he didn't sound like himself. Draco imagined him grasping his cane as he did when he became unsure.
"Yes, Lucius?"
"My lord, if Draco's punishment comes from what we discussed in the garden, please--we did our best not trip over sensitive matters, but if we failed in that, please don't blame him. Let it fall on us. We should have steered the conversation away from--well, away from politics and--"
Harry chuckled, silencing him. Beside the throne, Draco held still. He loved his master's voice, but listening to that low laugh made his stomach knot up. Harry laughed like that when he walked the line between himself and Voldemort, pulling strings and controlling the people around him.
"Your family is so strange," Harry said. "You can't touch him, but you'd take his punishment on your own head?"
For a moment, Lucius couldn't speak, not trusting his own voice as he gathered himself.
"I was taught that mixed blood was responsible for all the sins of the world," he said softly. "Breaking a lifetime of lies from people I trusted is not easy."
Quietly considering, Harry sat down and put his hand on Draco's head, petting his hair. In turn, Draco turned himself more comfortably on his cushion and let his wings curl naturally again. Harry only touched him like this to comfort him, and he soaked it in shamelessly.
"Tell me," Harry said, "if Draco wasn't at my side, if you had the chance to make him one of my vassals, would you? At your side again, in your home, with his terrible wings so close?"
Draco's breath caught. Cruel, unutterably cruel to force him to hear this. How could Harry act gentle and then ask something like that? Waiting was an agony. Hearing his father's answer, he was sure, could kill him. Long seconds passed.
"Yes," Lucius said so softly Draco almost didn't hear him. "It would be hard. But yes."
Wishing he could see, thankful that he couldn't see, Draco lifted his head. His whole body felt lighter. His wings flared until his fasteners snapped tight, but for a moment he felt like he could fly.
Smiling, Harry sighed and leaned back.
"At least you're fighting it," he said, half to himself. "You do your family credit. As for Draco's punishment, don't worry. I only took his sight for this meeting as a demonstration. In fact, I just expected him to sit there. He came up with dramatically dangling that wing on his own."
"You said to look broken," Draco murmured with a smile.
"Thank you," Lucius breathed, regaining some of his confidence and forcing his attention back to work. "I'll deal with cutting out some of the dead weight later today, but first I need to attend to matters in the country."
"Fine," Harry said. "Send me a report as soon as you can."
Lucius nodded, or at least Draco imagined he did. A moment later, the heavy front doors closed, leaving them alone in the hall. Harry reached around and grasped Draco's collar, tugging him close. Draco needed little prodding. He turned and rose up on his knees, hands crossed on the arm of Harry's throne as he waited.
He heard the metallic scrape of a jar's lid being unscrewed, and then Harry's hand cupped his cheek to hold him still. Feeling as if a cool breeze played over his eyes, the darkness turned to a bright blur that filled in with colors, grey and black for the walls, orange spots for the firelight, and one blur in front of him that focused and grew sharp with a kiss.
"Good veela," Harry murmured.
"Really?" Draco smiled, basking in the praise.
"Yes, very good. Now there'll be rumors of how evil Lord Potter punishes his most helpless plaything, and I won't have to kill anyone or torture them into obedience." He sighed. "Well, not for awhile, at least. Until I have to do this all over again."
Now that his sight had been returned, Draco luxuriated in looking in Harry's eyes and feeling his touch in his thoughts. He wished Harry would find a way to get rid of his glasses. Behind the lenses, his green eyes looked like they shone from within. The feel of his master examining his memories no longer felt like a rake scraping over his brain, but rather like Harry's fingers sifting through his thoughts like sand. Perhaps it was because he wasn't actively searching for anything, just enjoying the feel of Draco's emotions.
"Very good," Harry repeated in a low voice. "Ask for something. Anything. You've earned a reward."
Reward?
Anything?
His joy and eagerness made him drunk. The answer came to his lips before he could think of how stupid he was.
"Outside," he whispered. "In the sun and the wind--"
Harry's green eyes widened. For the first time, Draco saw Harry unguarded, afraid, vulnerable.
Betrayed.
Oh no, Draco thought, but he didn't think the words. He just knew a flash of panic and dread. The hand around his collar released, and he fell back in surprise. Harry walked away, abandoning him in the empty chamber. The echoes of his footsteps sounded hollow and cold.
Stupid, stupid, stupid--he knew Harry thought he was trying to escape. He was locked in chains in a cage, for God's sake! He couldn't have frightened Harry more if he'd sat on the window sill and spread his wings.
If Harry left--Draco licked his lips and opened his mouth, trying to think of something to call him back. Something, anything to keep him from leaving, because he knew if Harry opened the door and left right now, there would be no salvaging this. The farther Harry went, the closer to the door, the greater the panic until all human thought was pushed out and Draco was left with his mindless veela heart, willing to do anything to keep his mate.
In an instant he'd ruined Harry's trust. In another instant he bargained his body away with wild abandon.
"Break my wings!"
Harry froze. Turning slightly, not enough to see Draco, he hesitated.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Draco said, fighting to control his voice even as his throat grew tight. "I know you're scared I'll leave and I didn't think--I just wanted--after being in the bedroom and the cage--"
He cut himself off. That wasn't important. He wasn't important. He had to focus, fight to wrest control back from his veela aspect.
"Break my wings," he said again. "You're scared I'll fly away. Break them. Then I can't leave you."
About to plead and beg, he choked as Harry turned and faced him. Harry was stone, blank faced as he came back, dead as he stood over Draco and looked down at him. Draco swallowed once, tried not to noisily drag in each breath and failed, and looked up at Harry. He wished Harry would look into his mind again to see that he didn't want to escape. There was no touch in his thoughts.
Slowly, as if afraid Draco's wings would burn him, Harry reached out with both hands and clasped Draco's right wing just beneath its golden fastener. Draco didn't move, didn't look away. Harry's hands tightened, dug into the thin membrane of skin, and they both felt how strong his hands were, how thin the bones felt beneath his callused palms. Harry took a deep breath and began pushing the two bones together.
The top arch of Draco's wing ached, then burned, then grew unbearably tight. A little more pressure and it would snap like a quill. Would Harry force him to heal naturally or would he heal the wing later after a change of heart?
Would he let him heal at all?
He imagined himself dragging two broken wings on the floor, the white edges turned dark grey from dirt and grime as he crawled. And Harry, always Harry in front of him, beside him, ready to step on his wings and pin him down, breaking him so no one else would want him. His mate--made of stone and implacable--but his mate all the same.
Draco closed his eyes and lowered his head.
Release. Harry breathed out, let go and took a step back. Draco knew he was looking at him, studying him. He didn't look back. If he looked, Harry might change his mind again. Might leave him here. If he didn't move, Harry might not move, and then they'd stay in the room forever and nothing would change. That was better than being left alone. Draco knew he wasn't thinking rationally and couldn't remember what rational was.
"We'll go outside," Harry breathed.
Draco held still, a statue beside his master's throne.
"For dinner," Harry continued. "A picnic. At sunset. Just us."
A pause. Draco chanced looking up, not into Harry's face but at his hand.
"Thank you."
The familiar hand on his hair, the reassuring touch. Draco shuddered and leaned against Harry's leg. Something terrible had just passed him over. The danger wasn't gone, but he had a chance of surviving it now.
They walked back to the bedroom in silence. Draco crept into his cage and watched as Harry locked it, tugging the lock twice to make sure it was sealed. Harry stared at him for a moment, then faced the wall and locked all the windows, binding them with several charms as if they were being attacked.
"I have to go," Harry said when he finished. "I need to ward where we'll be eating."
He took a step back as if not sure what he was doing, dazed and confused at himself, then disappeared down the ladder. A heavy click came from the trapdoor. Another lock.
Releasing a heavy breath, Draco finally let himself relax. His wing throbbed with a growing bruise that was worse than lying slashed and bloody beneath Voldemort. That was worse than the war itself. Was this what his father had done when Lucius knelt before Voldemort and then later Harry, surrendered himself to assuage his master's temper? That suicidal sacrifice...
Perhaps it was Lucius' veela heritage that taught him. Perhaps they simply knew how to appease their owners.
Alone in his cage, Draco curled his perfect, intact wings around himself like an eggshell and watched the sun begin to sink to the horizon.
TBC...
Scribbled Mask