Chapter Twenty-One of 'Nature of the Beast'- Explanations and Explications
Chapter Twenty.
Title: Nature of the Beast (21/30 to 40)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (eventual), Ron/Hermione, Lucius/Narcissa
Warnings: Creature fic (Draco is a Veela), angst, some violence
Rating: R
Summary: Draco Malfoy knows how the world is supposed to go; he is a dominant Veela, with a submissive mate. It’s rather a surprise to find out that his mate is Harry Potter. It’s much more of one to find out that Harry, having been raised by Muggles, does not know how the world is supposed to go.
Author’s Notes: This story is going to be probably somewhere between twenty-five and thirty chapters.
Chapter One..
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Twenty-One--Explanations and Explications
"What do you want to know?"
Harry knew he was more relaxed than he would have been before the meal they'd just had. It was enormous, and while he didn't want to act like Malfoy luxury was seducing him, it was hard to hide his appreciation. He might not always eat a lot, but he liked having the option, for many reasons.
And this time, the meal had contained so many different sauces that he'd been tempted into eating more than usual just because he wanted to taste different combinations. And now his mouth was surrounded by a small circle of red and yellow, and Malfoy was looking at him with more than a faint smile as the house-elves cleared the dishes away.
Harry coughed and reached for a napkin, sponging half-heartedly at the circle. He suspected that at least some of it would stay there.
"Let it stay," Malfoy said softly, maybe picking up on some of his thoughts through the bond. "I enjoy it when you look well-fed."
Harry shrugged awkwardly and left the napkin on the table. "Anyway, what did you want to know?"
Malfoy's wings opened as he leaned over the table. He had obviously had them long enough to be aware of their movements, because even though Harry thought he came close to doing so, he didn't actually knock any of the dishes off the long dining room table. "I want to know why your friends seem so intent on you keeping your temper. It's not advice I would have expected them to give you."
Harry stared at him. "Even though Hermione's more politically astute than I am?"
"Granger is more knowledgeable, but that's not the same thing as politically-minded." Malfoy held out a hand as if his purpose was to let it wander among the dishes and pots, but he ended up with it near one of Harry's. Harry turned his hand to take it. "I would have expected her to value honesty over anything else. And sometimes, it would be more honest to lose your temper."
"But it would also mean that I'd alienate people." Harry shook his head. "She saw--she saw what happened when I lost my temper, once before."
"With who?" Malfoy was once again focused on him as if he was the center of the universe.
It was flattering. And so tempting, sometimes. Harry thought that he might believe himself the center of the universe if he let Malfoy look at him like that all the time. It was like the Malfoy luxury, the Malfoy food. He might let go and enjoy it once in a while, but most times, he had to be on guard against it, or he would start acting stupidly.
"The woman who cast the Pain Geis on me the last time," he said.
"You never did make it clear who that was, or what the circumstances were." Malfoy's voice had gone quiet and direct, and his eyes were full of a savage, clear light as he focused them on Harry's face.
Harry sighed a little. "I know. That's because I'm not proud of my reaction. And because I thought you might try to take revenge on her," he added, as the vast wings spread and Malfoy's arse hovered above his chair.
Malfoy fluttered the outer tips of his wings, moving them like fingers. Harry blinked. He hadn't known a Veela could do that.
"She's still alive?" Malfoy whispered dangerously. "And free? I would have thought the Ministry would at least have imprisoned her for damaging their precious Savior."
Harry glared at him before he could stop himself. "Could you not call me that, please?" he asked, knowing that his teeth were gritted, and not much caring. "I'd rather not be continually reminded of it."
"All right," said Malfoy. "But tell me why she didn't receive a prison sentence or a curse from an Auror."
"Because what I did to her was considered punishment enough."
Malfoy paused, his head tilting to the side as if he was an owl considering an offered treat. Harry relaxed, although he did remind himself that the owl wouldn't try to rip someone's face off for insulting him.
"That sounds more interesting," Malfoy decided after a moment. "Tell me what that was."
Harry sighed, although not because he was going to refuse. He just didn't like remembering this. "I was coming through the Atrium, and I was speaking to Kingsley about methods that we could use to encourage further Muggleborn employment in the Ministry. The Pain Geis hit me from behind. I didn't know what it was, and I screamed. I was screaming so loud at first that I didn't even hear her voice whispering in my head."
Malfoy's eyes were as wide as though Harry was telling him the most exciting story he'd ever heard. "What did Shacklebolt do?"
"Turned around and tried to help me, but the spell wasn't coming from anywhere obvious." Harry shook his head. "We found out later that she was hiding under a Disillusionment Charm, behind the Fountain. And then we were trying to get the spell to stop, so neither of us thought as much about where she was hiding."
"I would have taken to the air and found her."
Harry nodded. "Yes, someone with wings could have been useful." That made Malfoy preen absurdly, but Harry found he didn't mind. He smiled for a minute before he had to continue the story.
"So, I threw the Pain Geis off the same way I did with Maundy, although it took longer. Meanwhile, some Aurors came running, and they did find her, after they realized casting Finite Incatatem at me wouldn't work."
"That many Aurors casting the spell at you, and the Pain Geis still continued?" Malfoy interrupted. "I wouldn't have thought there were many spells that could withstand that much magic."
Harry shrugged. "The strength of the Pain Geis depends in part on how much the person casting it hates the target. She hated me, the same way Maundy did, so it didn't end."
"Who was she?" Malfoy's wings almost stood on end, it seemed, and swayed back and forth like reeds in a strong wind. "What did she hate you for?"
Harry considered him carefully. "Are you going to go off and kill her if I give you enough information to identify her?"
Malfoy gave him a blank glance that told Harry the truth. He shook his head wearily. "It doesn't matter that much," he said. "What matters is that she blamed me for something that wasn't my fault, something during the war that she was sure I could have prevented."
Malfoy made a rough noise, a cross between a purr and a growl. "What did you do to her? Tell me in detail," he added, when Harry hesitated.
Harry grimaced. "The worst thing is that I didn't mean to do it. If I was facing a Death Eater and I wanted to punish them for what they'd done to me or friends of mine, that would be one thing. But I just wanted the pain to stop, and I lashed out with my magic. The way I did the time I inflated my aunt."
"Another story I would like to hear." Malfoy looked at him with intense, glittering eyes, but they weren't any more intense than most humans' would be, Harry thought, or than Hermione's had been when she stressed to him how he had to keep his temper. "For now, though, you're telling me this one."
Harry swallowed and nodded. He wondered what reaction he was looking for from Malfoy, really looking for. Did he want him to be disgusted, because that would at least keep him from seeking out Harry's attacker and punishing her, or did he want him to be thrilled, because that would justify Harry's retaliation to Harry and soothe his guilt?
He didn't know, and Malfoy was waiting, which in the end just meant that he explained what had happened without trying to conceal or elaborate anything.
"I reached out and grabbed hold of her left foot with my magic." Harry kept his eyes fixed on the tablecloth. Just like he didn't know what reaction he wanted from Malfoy, he didn't know what expression he wanted to see on his face when he said this. "I don't know why. Maybe it was the part closest to me. Maybe--"
"Harry. Stop delaying."
"You're right." Harry clenched his hands, then started when warm fingers curled around his. He'd almost forgotten that Malfoy was holding one of his hands, after all. "I started to turn her inside out. Everything inside out. The foot--her foot was turning into this sock of skin with all the flesh on the inside pointing outside, and you could see the bones mashed in there, except they were all pointing the wrong way. And the ripple was going up her leg, all the way to her hip, and it was turning into something that wasn't even recognizable. The Aurors said later they don't know any spell that could have done that. It was horrible."
Malfoy said nothing, but only watched him with wide, still eyes. Then he breathed, "How is it that I never heard anything about this?"
Harry shrugged, still remembering the sight of the woman being turned inside out, the horror in Hermione's eyes as she watched, and how strangely satisfied he had felt. He had kept his temper since then because it would cause political chaos if he didn't, but on the other hand, the satisfaction frightened him. He didn't want to feel that again, and he wouldn't if he could manage to keep the anger at bay.
"That's not an answer."
Harry returned to himself, and replied, "The people on the scene were all Aurors or other high-rankers in the Ministry. They agreed that it would be--useless to publicize it. She'd already had her punishment. If someone thought the Boy-Who-Lived could be attacked, even from hiding, they might feel less safe. And they'd have to drag my name through the mud at least a little bit if they found out what I'd done."
"You didn't kill her. She's still alive." Malfoy's fingers tapped his knuckles as if he was urging Harry to pay attention to that.
Harry nodded reluctantly. "But her foot is still like that. They got me to stop before it could get too far up her leg, and I even managed to reverse it a little. But I couldn't turn her foot back to normal, and no one else could, either."
Malfoy was still, except for his eyes, which flicked swiftly between Harry's face and his hand as if he thought Harry was hiding something else from him. Then he asked, with a softness that was in itself frightening, "You think that she didn't deserve it?"
"Part of me thinks she did," said Harry. "But the rest...I can't go around turning people inside out because they attacked me. It's too horrible. I could defend myself if someone used a deadly spell against me, but--"
"That's what you did."
"The Pain Geis isn't deadly, though," Harry insisted. He felt weirdly as though he was arguing against himself, because Malfoy spoke all the words he would have liked to believe and didn't dare, in case that led to him excusing himself for other horrible things. "You saw that with Maundy. The worst I got was a bruise. And because of my resistance to the Imperius Curse, I can throw it off better than usual. My response was disproportionate."
"There speaks Granger," Malfoy muttered, shaking his head. "You suffered, and while other people might be horrified by someone turning someone else inside out, they could also excuse it under the code of self-defense. Why can't you be excused? Why were the Aurors so terrified that they had to keep this all a deadly secret, when they wouldn't have done that for anyone else?"
"Stop asking those questions," Harry snapped. "Because this time, you know the answer. You tell me."
For a moment that was more charged than Harry had thought it could be, they looked each other in the eye, and then Malfoy nodded and spoke in a soft voice, like a child reciting a lesson. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived. It would cause too much panic, or too much gossip, or something, if you were known to do that."
"That's it," Harry agreed, massaging the back of his neck. "It's not the power that would panic people. It's my temper."
"And that's why your friend told you to keep your temper," said Malfoy. "The real reason." He hesitated, as if he didn't know what to say, and Harry let the silence lengthen. Then Malfoy whispered, "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"I didn't trust you enough," Harry said. "And it's not something I'm proud of." He waited one more moment, but when Malfoy said nothing, decided that maybe he could trust him with something else, too. "Or maybe I'm too proud of it. I did it once before. There's the possibility that I might do it again."
*
Idiots. If you have someone who's powerful and liable to get that angry about threats to him, you teach him ways to handle his anger and his power, not just forbid him to express either one and then get upset when he does.
But Draco wasn't Harry, and he wasn't Granger. He would have given Harry better advice if he'd been around at the time, but he hadn't. Which meant all he could do now was give him the advice that might help Harry live with what he'd done.
(Not that Draco thought he needed to feel guilt. But that sort of advice would only push Harry further away from him, because even if Harry hadn't felt guilt, he would have thought he should).
"What helps best when you're angry?" he asked as soothingly as he could. "Doing something that works it off, or burying yourself in work, or playing Quidditch, or what?"
Harry looked at him with his mouth slightly open. Am I really the first one to ask him that? Draco thought, and his chest ached with uncomfortable pity, which wasn't something he had wanted to feel about his mate. Or at least the first one who realized that he needed to be asked? He isn't the Chosen One, he isn't this statue who only feels appropriate things. You'd think most of his handlers would have realized that by now.
"It used to be flying," said Harry, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Lately, it's the peace process."
Draco snorted. "Really? That relaxes you?"
In seconds, Harry was pulling back his shoulders as if they were wings, all ready to breathe and snort fire. "Yes! Why not? It demands a lot of concentration, and that's one way of working off anger, you just keep working and working until you forget that you were ever angry with someone."
Draco blinked, wondering when Harry had learned that, or learned to work like that. From what Draco had seen at Hogwarts, Harry didn't pay that much attention to his work in-class.
But it was probably something else Draco couldn't ask about until Harry volunteered it, so he bridled his impatience and said, "All right. Then use your anger to tackle something large when you feel it. Plans you've been putting off. Or write one of those letters that feels so good to write but which you'd never send, and then tear it up. Something that can relax you."
"Even if I'm right in front of someone else and get angry at them?" Harry eyed him. "I can't see them waiting while I tell them that I have to go write a letter, and I'll be back in a half an hour or so."
Draco snorted. "No. But then you can hold your breath or use whatever techniques you use now to subdue your temper, and write the letter or do something else later." He caught Harry's other hand. "What matters is that you need to express your temper somehow, not just shove down the anger and hope that it won't explode. I think it will. And it'll make what you did to the woman in the Atrium look small."
Harry hunched as if he had wings of his own that could shield him. Draco was glad he didn't. He brought his own forwards and wrapped Harry in them, and Harry sighed and bowed his head.
"It's normal to be angry," Draco reminded him, hoping that his voice was neutral and that he didn't sound as irritated with Granger's stupid advice as he really was. He would need to get along with Harry's friends. "It's not normal to be the perfect hero who never is. And what you did to that woman is normal."
Harry eyed him from beneath his fringe. "Really."
"Really," said Draco. "For someone who has the power and who's suffered some of the same sorts of things that you have? There are stories of Merlin doing it. And one of my ancestors, Augustus Malfoy, when he lost his temper at--a rival." It didn't seem diplomatic right now to mention that that rival had been a Weasley. "I don't know everything you've suffered, but I know it's been enough."
Harry closed his eyes, then nodded sharply. "Thanks," he said. "I might--it's probably better if I believe that I can express my anger sometimes than never, and then have something else like that happen again."
"Exactly," said Draco. "An explosion would set your peace process back further than a few sarcastic remarks."
Harry opened his eyes with a deep glow in them that told Draco he'd struck home. For whatever reason, Harry cared that much about the peace process.
"Thank you," Harry said. "That makes so much sense. I can't believe I didn't think of that on my own."
"Leave the common sense to your Veela mate," said Draco. "You concentrate on being a good politician. I can't do that."
"It sounds like you could," Harry said, cocking his head curiously.
Draco shook his head. "Maybe later. For right now, what matters to me, for good or evil, is you."
The way Harry flushed was delicious. The way he gently pulled his hands back, less so, but Draco had accepted by now that he couldn't have whatever he wanted exactly when he wanted it. If he could make Harry more comfortable and at peace with himself, that was a worthy goal in itself, whether or not it strengthened the bond.
Chapter Twenty-Two.
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