As Pure As Snow (8/10)
One does not live as long as I do and stay ignorant and unwatchful of the strange dance between nature and time. Fate is the child of their union, veiled from birth and always the sum of what you should have expected, and what you can never anticipate.
I must be getting maudlin in my old age, because today I paused on walk to recover a dove lying unnoticed under the snow laden bushes. Nature and time would have finished the frozen thing, and I would find little fallacy in their logic. Fate, however, would act as progenies do, and strive to defy them.
Thus it was with bemusement that I brought the half dead creature home.
16
The trio stood in front of the ballroom, fair hair sandwiched between two dark heads, and raised their glasses in response to the toast that the Minister of Magic had proffered at the latest political triumph.
Harry emptied his glass of Dom Pérignon with satisfaction and sighed. This, he thought, was really as good as it gets. Then he gazed around and saw Lucius disappearing through the doors of a veranda, and revised his opinion. Perhaps it could get even better.
He caught up with his employer at the balcony, and leant casually over the rails. Lucius was seated on a stone bench, looking out at the fairylights dotting the snowbound hedges below.
“That’s a cute little familiar you got yourself, Minister,” Harry said. “Though I wouldn’t have figured a dove much to your taste.”
Lucius shrugged. “I found it dying on my land.”
“How compassionate,” Harry teased. “Though I could always use some kindness myself, you know.”
Lucius snorted. “When you know none?”
'You wound me,' the dark haired man replied extravagantly, 'showering everyone else with tokens of affection and leaving me out in the cold.'
'Harry.'
The younger man straightened. 'Yes, Lucius?' he said softly, tasting the name on his tongue. He observed the blue eyes flicker at his presumptuousness of familiarity, but said nothing.
'Have you become...bored, with the work?' There was something else in that question, something that Harry couldn't identify.
'Of course not.' Eyes searched. 'And you?'
It was several moments before the older man blinked. The silence that hung between them became thick, sinuous. Harry thought about the sly grin that always hovered about Armand's lips whenever he spoke about Lucius, and realized that his friend that seen this coming earlier than him.
He leant closer, almost hovering over the sitting figure. 'Did you get what you wanted, Lucius?'
The older man squinted at him through his glasses. 'From?'
The hand he reached out was slow, giving Lucius an opportunity to react. Two fingers gently plucked the glass away, watching the cornflower-blue eyes dilate in surprise under the fairylights. Something, harry realized, some sort of magnetism, was giving birth in the warm, thick air between them. Redefining boundaries.
Harry lowered his face, and his mouth swept the fringes of Lucius' forehead. He saw the blue eyes close involuntarily at the contact; sensed surrender in the small sigh that escaped the thin lips. Irresistibly, his mouth drifted downwards, seeking to draw another sound; to swallow hot, wet heat-
Then a cough became audible in the distance, and Lucius shifted his face away.
Moments passed. A soft wind swept long strands of moonlit hair into Harry's hands, and he idly caressed the fine mane between his fingers. Lucius responded with an almost smile, but his eyes were faraway, and Harry felt a twinge of envy for whatever memory had wrestled away the blond man's attention away.
He hated anything he couldn’t kill.
“I suppose you want a reward for services to my son.”
“A Lifedebt, Lucius, is no mere exchange of reward.” Harry placed a finger on the other man’s lips, tracing it shape. “And seldom will someone extracts so small a price as I...am prepared to do.”
“Much experienced in the field, are we?”
“First time for everything.” The dark-haired man smiled and moved his finger away, before temptation overwhelmed him. “Between two evils, I always try to pick the one I never tried before. Perhaps I’ll move up my demands from there.”
“You logic is dazzling, as usual.” Lucius said wryly.
The dark haired man sat companionably beside Lucius, the sleeves of their coat brushing. “I told you I’d give you what you wanted. Do you deny receiving it?”
Lucius didn’t answer, and Harry shifted his face so that his breath tickled the blond hair that blew in his face. “And now you know what I want.”
“The nature of your fee is...unanticipated.”
Harry watched his lips move, and his hands pressed a little harder into the cold stone seat beneath him. Staying unmoving and untouching was rapidly becoming less and less an option to him.
“I think,” Harry mused, “I shall choose not to interpret that as an out and out refusal.”
“This can of worms, Harry. Is it really worth opening?”
“Surely you don’t think so modestly of yourself, Minister.”
“Hmmm.” They shared a silence amongst equals.
Finally the Minister spoke. “At this stage of my life, Harry, all I want is peace.”
Harry gave a short bark of laughter as he stood up and gazed back out into the wintry garden. “Next you’ll be telling me how you deserve it after all that you’ve been through.”
*
Harry sighed into his champagne.
Of all the unanticipated turns in his life, this surely was the most bewildering, and the one he felt least equipped in dealing with.
His mind was restless, scattered, and his body hummed with needed release. Armand’s decadent company would be undoubtedly called for tonight.
As he drained his glass and watched Draco striding over, Harry observed the dragon-headed cane swinging unused from the crook of Draco’s arm and smiled to himself. He does not think it will make another appearance after this.
His smile dropped away, however, when he saw the fire in the blonds’ eyes.
“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Saint Potter,” Draco rasped at him. “I’m not quite as sick as you’d like to think I am.”
Harry suddenly realized who had coughed earlier in the balcony. Rapidly he calculated how much he could have overheard.
“Draco, listen.”
“No, you listen. It is you that suit my purpose now, not the other way around, are you clear? I am putting up with your two-faced schemes because it suits me. But either way works out for you, doesn’t it, Saint Potter? It always does.”
“Has,” Harry said absently. “It always has. I make no claims to the future.”
“Why, could that be an element of genuine truth and humility in your voice? How positively redeeming.”
“It keeps you amused, doesn’t it?”
Draco’s face, though still angry, bordered on the thoughtful by the time he said, almost to himself. “Yes. Apparently it does. But,” he warned silkily, “some things are fated to remain out of reach, even for you, Golden Boy. Do we have an understanding?”
“Crystal,” Harry said, and clinked their glasses together. Draco harrumphed and walked away.
Armand came up to him. “What’s eating him?”
“My appetite.”
“Ah. Junior disapproves.”
Harry picked up another glass from a passing footman. “Junior would rather see his father in Hell, being buggered by Satan himself.”
“I’m sure you’ll find some way to work that to your advantage.”
Harry shrugged and continued brooding into his Dom Pérignon.
Armand frowned at him and seized his arm. “This sort of response is most irregular, coming from you. Now you have to assuage my worry, so we are going to have to see a specialist. A naked, buxom specialist with loving hands and a chest that bounces like ripe- ”
“Enough already, I’m coming.” Harry laughed as he was hauled away, champagne sloshing.
I must be getting maudlin in my old age, because today I paused on walk to recover a dove lying unnoticed under the snow laden bushes. Nature and time would have finished the frozen thing, and I would find little fallacy in their logic. Fate, however, would act as progenies do, and strive to defy them.
Thus it was with bemusement that I brought the half dead creature home.
16
The trio stood in front of the ballroom, fair hair sandwiched between two dark heads, and raised their glasses in response to the toast that the Minister of Magic had proffered at the latest political triumph.
Harry emptied his glass of Dom Pérignon with satisfaction and sighed. This, he thought, was really as good as it gets. Then he gazed around and saw Lucius disappearing through the doors of a veranda, and revised his opinion. Perhaps it could get even better.
He caught up with his employer at the balcony, and leant casually over the rails. Lucius was seated on a stone bench, looking out at the fairylights dotting the snowbound hedges below.
“That’s a cute little familiar you got yourself, Minister,” Harry said. “Though I wouldn’t have figured a dove much to your taste.”
Lucius shrugged. “I found it dying on my land.”
“How compassionate,” Harry teased. “Though I could always use some kindness myself, you know.”
Lucius snorted. “When you know none?”
'You wound me,' the dark haired man replied extravagantly, 'showering everyone else with tokens of affection and leaving me out in the cold.'
'Harry.'
The younger man straightened. 'Yes, Lucius?' he said softly, tasting the name on his tongue. He observed the blue eyes flicker at his presumptuousness of familiarity, but said nothing.
'Have you become...bored, with the work?' There was something else in that question, something that Harry couldn't identify.
'Of course not.' Eyes searched. 'And you?'
It was several moments before the older man blinked. The silence that hung between them became thick, sinuous. Harry thought about the sly grin that always hovered about Armand's lips whenever he spoke about Lucius, and realized that his friend that seen this coming earlier than him.
He leant closer, almost hovering over the sitting figure. 'Did you get what you wanted, Lucius?'
The older man squinted at him through his glasses. 'From?'
The hand he reached out was slow, giving Lucius an opportunity to react. Two fingers gently plucked the glass away, watching the cornflower-blue eyes dilate in surprise under the fairylights. Something, harry realized, some sort of magnetism, was giving birth in the warm, thick air between them. Redefining boundaries.
Harry lowered his face, and his mouth swept the fringes of Lucius' forehead. He saw the blue eyes close involuntarily at the contact; sensed surrender in the small sigh that escaped the thin lips. Irresistibly, his mouth drifted downwards, seeking to draw another sound; to swallow hot, wet heat-
Then a cough became audible in the distance, and Lucius shifted his face away.
Moments passed. A soft wind swept long strands of moonlit hair into Harry's hands, and he idly caressed the fine mane between his fingers. Lucius responded with an almost smile, but his eyes were faraway, and Harry felt a twinge of envy for whatever memory had wrestled away the blond man's attention away.
He hated anything he couldn’t kill.
“I suppose you want a reward for services to my son.”
“A Lifedebt, Lucius, is no mere exchange of reward.” Harry placed a finger on the other man’s lips, tracing it shape. “And seldom will someone extracts so small a price as I...am prepared to do.”
“Much experienced in the field, are we?”
“First time for everything.” The dark-haired man smiled and moved his finger away, before temptation overwhelmed him. “Between two evils, I always try to pick the one I never tried before. Perhaps I’ll move up my demands from there.”
“You logic is dazzling, as usual.” Lucius said wryly.
The dark haired man sat companionably beside Lucius, the sleeves of their coat brushing. “I told you I’d give you what you wanted. Do you deny receiving it?”
Lucius didn’t answer, and Harry shifted his face so that his breath tickled the blond hair that blew in his face. “And now you know what I want.”
“The nature of your fee is...unanticipated.”
Harry watched his lips move, and his hands pressed a little harder into the cold stone seat beneath him. Staying unmoving and untouching was rapidly becoming less and less an option to him.
“I think,” Harry mused, “I shall choose not to interpret that as an out and out refusal.”
“This can of worms, Harry. Is it really worth opening?”
“Surely you don’t think so modestly of yourself, Minister.”
“Hmmm.” They shared a silence amongst equals.
Finally the Minister spoke. “At this stage of my life, Harry, all I want is peace.”
Harry gave a short bark of laughter as he stood up and gazed back out into the wintry garden. “Next you’ll be telling me how you deserve it after all that you’ve been through.”
*
Harry sighed into his champagne.
Of all the unanticipated turns in his life, this surely was the most bewildering, and the one he felt least equipped in dealing with.
His mind was restless, scattered, and his body hummed with needed release. Armand’s decadent company would be undoubtedly called for tonight.
As he drained his glass and watched Draco striding over, Harry observed the dragon-headed cane swinging unused from the crook of Draco’s arm and smiled to himself. He does not think it will make another appearance after this.
His smile dropped away, however, when he saw the fire in the blonds’ eyes.
“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Saint Potter,” Draco rasped at him. “I’m not quite as sick as you’d like to think I am.”
Harry suddenly realized who had coughed earlier in the balcony. Rapidly he calculated how much he could have overheard.
“Draco, listen.”
“No, you listen. It is you that suit my purpose now, not the other way around, are you clear? I am putting up with your two-faced schemes because it suits me. But either way works out for you, doesn’t it, Saint Potter? It always does.”
“Has,” Harry said absently. “It always has. I make no claims to the future.”
“Why, could that be an element of genuine truth and humility in your voice? How positively redeeming.”
“It keeps you amused, doesn’t it?”
Draco’s face, though still angry, bordered on the thoughtful by the time he said, almost to himself. “Yes. Apparently it does. But,” he warned silkily, “some things are fated to remain out of reach, even for you, Golden Boy. Do we have an understanding?”
“Crystal,” Harry said, and clinked their glasses together. Draco harrumphed and walked away.
Armand came up to him. “What’s eating him?”
“My appetite.”
“Ah. Junior disapproves.”
Harry picked up another glass from a passing footman. “Junior would rather see his father in Hell, being buggered by Satan himself.”
“I’m sure you’ll find some way to work that to your advantage.”
Harry shrugged and continued brooding into his Dom Pérignon.
Armand frowned at him and seized his arm. “This sort of response is most irregular, coming from you. Now you have to assuage my worry, so we are going to have to see a specialist. A naked, buxom specialist with loving hands and a chest that bounces like ripe- ”
“Enough already, I’m coming.” Harry laughed as he was hauled away, champagne sloshing.