Snakes and Lions Extended Ending

Desires and Obligations

"So," Harry said. He couldn't manage anything else.

"So," Draco echoed. For a while, he was silent. Leaves rustled around them in the warm greenhouse.

Harry watched Draco nervously. Draco was staring at him -- that cool, absorbing stare he sometimes had, as if he was memorizing Harry, or comparing him to some collection of data. The picnic basket sat forgotten by his feet.

Finally, Draco reached forward and brushed back a lock of Harry's hair. He smiled. "I always know just what to say, you know," he commented wryly.

Harry grinned. "Glad I don't have that sort of image to maintain."

Draco leaned forward. His lips brushed lightly against Harry's. He started to shift back, but Harry locked a hand around the back of his neck, keeping him close. Draco moved willingly forward into Harry's kiss.

For a few minutes, Harry thought of nothing but the pliant pressure of Draco's lips and the softness of the skin at the back of his neck. Draco pressed his tongue between Harry's lips, and Harry whimpered, opening them further. He slid his own tongue along Draco's, exploring, inviting, sparring playfully. Finally, they relaxed apart.

"That damn well better not have been an experiment," Draco growled, "because I think I'm bloody well in love."

"Is it all right if it was a successful experiment?" Harry questioned.

"Harry...." Draco said threateningly.

"Oh, yes ... you're in love." Harry said, disbelievingly. He looked appraisingly at Draco. "In love enough to tell your mother?"

"Are you my boyfriend?" Draco shot back.

"If you'll admit to me."

Draco growled. "Harry, you don't understand. I will tell Mother. But you matter to me. I'm going to tell her properly -- in the way that makes her likeliest to approve, and that's not blurting it out to her. It's going to take time. And you are a political figure, and I am a political figure, to a lesser extent. Walking across the castle gardens holding hands is not something to do without adequate preparation, and certainly not while my house is so angry at me." He frowned at Harry. "Try to pull some Slytherin sense into this."

"There's nothing to make me so irrevocably Gryffindor as romantic impulses."

"Yet, you will note that I am the only one who has said anything about love. You are trying to bargain with me."

Harry thought for a moment. "Did you mean that?" he asked.

"Mean what?"

"Do you love me?"

Draco ground his teeth. "Yes," he snarled.

"Well, don't sound happy about it, or anything."

"I'm bloody fucked. Why should I be happy?"

Harry reached out and took Draco's hand. Draco left it limp. Harry turned it over and stroked a finger softly across the palm. He watched Draco's face as the blond's eyes closed, and twitches of ecstasy moved across his features.

"I love you too," Harry said quietly. Draco's eyes flickered open in surprise. "You're beautiful and intelligent and intense, and ..." He took a deep breath. "It's frightening."

Draco grabbed him and pulled him close for a kiss far more violent than the first.

"If you love me," he said forcefully, "everything else will be okay."

"Now there's an absurd thing to say!" Harry exclaimed. He laughed, but it was mostly nervousness. "Is that your Slytherin sense?"

"I can finesse Mother, my cousins, the council," Draco insisted. "Everything but you." He looked at Harry until Harry relented and nodded seriously. With a relieved smile, Draco reached over to open the basket. A nearby bush growled threateningly.

"Ignore it," Draco said, starting to remove morsels of food. "They just sound like savage animals. It's their only defense. Sandwich?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, smiling slightly at Draco's unnecessary reassurance. He accepted the sandwich and took a bite. He still felt breathless and wobbly from that kiss. "So, how are things going with your family?" he managed.

"So far, I've only talked to Isabelle. I've made arrangements with Snape for a Floo-talk with Mother, after classes today, and I may try cousin Gerard next, but not right away. Isabelle surprised me -- she was thrilled when I said I turned down the Mark. It seems that she's never approved. I'm not going to risk Flooing her again until I've heard from her, as I told her about what happened with Marcella and father. She'll want to check up on me with Marcella, of course, so I need to wait until I know that wasn't suspiciously garbled, or something. As long as that comes out all right, I'd like to check with Isabelle on what she knows of other family members, before I go talking to them." Draco sniffed. "This is obviously more complex than I have ever noticed. Careless."

"What do you plan to tell your mother?"

"That Voldemort, however much she may like his goals, is a madman and is going to fail; that I am in favor with you and Dumbledore, and this will help us through Father's disgrace; and that Father, she must admit, had been rather falling apart lately. If she hasn't exploded after all of that, but is still wavering, I'll bring up the Decernenti."

"Sometimes you're a terrible bastard," Harry commented.

Draco looked at him in mock surprise. "Oh no -- I assure you, I am very much my father's son."

Harry snorted. "Rather what I meant," he said. He reached out a hand for Draco's, to show he didn't mean any offence. Draco let him lift the hand, but again, did not respond. Harry kissed along each the fingertips. He felt an unexpected thrill at the brush of skin under his lips, and went back to Draco's ring finger, first flicking his tongue out to push against the nail, then dragging his lower lip along the tip of the finger. Draco whimpered. Harry started sucking gently on the finger tip. Draco gasped.

"Aaa. You...! I suppose if I tried to rip your clothes off, you'd run away?"

Harry stopped what he was doing to free his mouth for a reply. His thumb began to trace circles on Draco's palm. From the tensing in Draco's face, he could tell this was pleasurably distracting. "Yeah, I probably would."

"Well, what am I supposed to do then?"

Harry laughed quietly, his voice low. "I seem to be doing well enough, with all your clothes still on. Haven't you any imagination?"

Harry never did finish his sandwich.

*********

After classes, Draco returned immediately to Snape's quarters. His time with Harry had been far too short. They had arranged to meet again, but not that night. Harry had Quidditch practice. With the Gryffindor/Slytherin match in less than three weeks and likely to decide the Quidditch Cup, both teams were anxious to practice as much as possible, leaving Harry and Draco with little free time in common. They had arranged another lunch meeting in the greenhouse, instead. Draco wondered what the game would be like now that they didn't hate each other, and his father was in no position to express his disappointment if Draco lost. He decided he no less wanted to win, but would probably enjoy the game more, in either case.

Snape was in his rooms, and opened the floo immediately. This time, he sat with a hand grasping Draco's arm as Draco stuck his head into the flames. Draco did not mind the uncomfortably tight grip. He knew his spellfather was ready to pull him back if he was seized.

He went to the private parlor at Malfoy Manor, a grate which was accessible only to those of Malfoy blood. There was no one in sight.

"Mother!" he called.

A human servant ran into the room.

"What -- Master Malfoy!"

Draco did not recall the girl's name. "Summon my mother. Immediately."

"Yes, sir! Of course, sir!" The girl ran out even more quickly than she had entered.

Draco did not have long to wait. His mother arrived a moment later, in stunning (and rather revealing) silk house-robes that draped elegantly about her well-kept form. Draco wondered if she was entertaining a private guest, or merely enjoying her own beauty.

"Draco!" she exclaimed. "Darling! I have been hearing the silliest rumors!"

"Most of which are true, I expect," Draco interrupted. His expression softened. "I'm sorry, Mother. I never expected him to chase me all the way to Hogwarts."

"Draco," his mother said severely. "You have disgraced your family, both in the eyes of society, and those of our lord."

And thus the negotiations start. From the formality of the statement, Draco wondered if someone was listening. "Mother, really! We'd be better off if that man never existed. He will lose, you know. Then it will be me keeping you from disgrace."

"Consorting with mixed-bloods and Muggle-lovers will keep us from disgrace?" she challenged sharply.

Ah, that was a bit more sincere. "If you mean Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, yes, it will. I'm in high favor with both, right now, and that will save the Malfoys when that madman who has driven father mad goes down."

"Your father is far from mad!" Narcissa snapped.

"Mother, he tried to kill me! And that's just the latest. You can't deny how unbalanced he's been since the Dark Lord returned. You do remember him making me practice the Cruciatus Curse on you, don't you?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"I see."

"I will not accept a son who turns on his father...."

"Mother! First, I did not turn on him. I just ran, someplace he should have had the sense not to follow. Two years ago, he would have had the sense not to follow. Second..." Draco hesitated. Gently, he said:

"You bore four babies, mother. Only one lived to see a second day. Would you abandon that one for the man who took the others?" He paused. "You are too old to bear him new heirs, you know. If he goes free, he will need a new wife."

His mother stared at him without response.

"I have always been a good son, haven't I? I will take care of you. Always." Draco smiled at his mother's silence. That she had not turned away with a small biting comment was a sign in his favor. "May I have a kiss goodbye, then? I'll call again Friday, so we can discuss matters when you are more prepared."

Slowly, Narcissa approached. He took in the soothing smell of her perfume as she bent near. She kissed him softly on the cheek, and then turned her head gracefully to permit him to do the same to her.

"In three days, then, Draco, sweet. Stay safe in school."

"I will, Mother."

*********

"I had been thinking --" Harry began, as he stared at a chicken leg from another picnic lunch.

Draco interrupted him with a sniff. "And we know where that leads," he commented.

After a momentary glare, Harry smiled cheerily at him. "Ooo! Do you have an inner eye too?" he chirped.

Draco smirked. "Inform me of my doom, Potter."

"I was thinking we could offer to calibrate the quiris. I mean, if you're sure you won't need to do any Dark Arts in the next month or so."

"Calibrate?"

Harry was surprised at the eager look on Draco's face.

"Well, yeah. I haven't seen any exact limit for how long they detect the aura. I don't think anyone ever determined it. Now, you did a large number of Dark Arts spells over the course of a week. I did one particular spell, several times over the course of a month. We could go see the quiris every few days, and determine at what time they stop looking terrifying, and at what time they accept each of us."

"Great!" Draco said. "Let's talk to Horsyr after classes this afternoon."

"I wonder if Colin would loan me his camera."

"Why would -- oh, to see what they look like impartially?"

"Yes. And -- well, I assume the difference won't show through a photograph, but it's worth checking."

"We'll show it around," Draco suggested cheekily. "I'll show Professor Snape, you show Hermione."

"Now, if it does work...."

"I can just imagine how it would be passed around the Gryffindor common room," Draco drawled. "Lavender, dear, is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Harry choked. "As if Lavender would think of doing Dark Arts!"

"Perhaps to keep her skin perfect," Draco said slyly. "Mother could teach her a thing or two."

"And what would happen in the Slytherin common room?" Harry prodded.

"Oh, the usual art of subterfuge," Draco replied airily. He frowned. "Not that I've been back there, yet."

"I saw Crabbe eating near you, this morning," Harry commented. "Zabini's been fighting with you, though, hasn't he?"

"I think Blaise will be all right, in time. The matter has exceeded Vincent's limited mental powers. I am me, therefore what I do is correct, but Gregory's gone, and that was my fault, therefore I was wrong. He doesn't know whether to try to kill me or to carry on as if nothing has happened." Draco shrugged. "And I'm not trying to get him to be with me, which confuses him still more." Draco looked away. "A few of the younger students have been watching Quidditch practices, so they can just happen to exchange a few sentences with me while I'm leaving. They want to know why I did it."

"Because they agree, or disagree?"

"In most cases, because they're trying to figure that out. I've been talking with them as much as I can without it being obvious that I want to talk to them. I don't need that sort of trouble."

"Talking to younger students?" Harry asked, confused.

"Being seen as a subversive influence."