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Chapter 8

Harry relaxed against his pillows, took a long drag from his herbal and exhaled smoke slowly as Draco sprawled, utterly sated, between his legs. He ran his free hand through Draco’s hair and gently cupped the back of the other wizard’s head.

“We’ll catch hell keeping this from the team if you fall asleep in here.”

Draco hummed and curled one hand around Harry’s hip. “Do you want to keep it a secret from them, too?”

“I’ve kept what you mean to me a secret for a very long time,” Harry confessed. “It’s difficult to consider any other circumstance. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you.” He paused. “Or us. Because I’m not.”

“Shame doesn’t seem to be a thing you do,” Draco said and took a deep breath. “Truth be known, I can’t keep a secret from Pansy. She’s ridiculously observant and knows me better than anyone else. We’ve been best friends since we were five years old. Our parents used to think we’d make a perfect match.”

“Until you both came out utterly gay?” Harry questioned with an amused laugh.

“Well, Pansy let that be known when she was around eight. Her mother immediately put a stop to all discussion regarding any sort of marriage contract for her. Her father fought that for a bit until her mother threatened him with divorce because she wasn’t going to let anyone force her daughter to marry and have sex with a man. I suppose Nigel Parkinson really didn’t understand what it would’ve been like for his daughter up until that point—to be made to marry a man when she would never want one of her own freewill.”

“Most parents don’t seem to care in Britain,” Harry said. “You’d not believe the number of contracts I received the first year after Hogwarts. My mail ward got stricter and stricter until I ended up with a very small list of people who were free to owl me directly. All other correspondence goes through the bank.” He took a deep breath. “You’re on that list, by the way. But you never tried to send me anything.”

Draco lifted his head and their gazes met. “You made your boundaries very clear, Harry. A lot of people don’t respect them, and they don’t respect you. They’ll never offer you more than a token effort and be genuinely appalled at your lack of interest in accepting it. I’m not one those wretched bastards. I never will be.” He wet his lips. “Why was I on the list?”

“Well, I wanted you to be able to reach out to me if you needed me,” Harry said quietly. “I don’t know what those circumstances could’ve been—but rejecting future contact with you seemed especially galling.” He finished his herbal in the quiet that followed that statement and the ashes flickered away with a swish of magic.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to have in all of this,” Draco confessed. “I think it’s important to build realistic expectations, but there’s never been any sort of standard on that where you’re concerned.”

“I know,” Harry admitted. “I’m not sure what we can have, either. I’ve never really been sure on that front because you can want something all fucking day long and be denied it for the simplest, dumbest, cruelest reason.”

“Can’t we just decide?”

“That kind of decision making tempts Fate,” Harry said quietly and smiled Draco laughed a little. “Part of me has always thought that I have every single right to want and have my own soulmate.”

“But?”

“No buts,” Harry said and pulled gently.

Draco slipped up over him and their mouths met in a kiss as he settled fully onto his body. He adored the weight of another man against him, a hard cock pressed against his skin. Harry shuddered into the kiss and ran one hand down Draco’s bare back. The silence around them, only broken by their own breathing, settled like a blanket.

The magic in the room thickened and grew heavy. The shroud had never felt oppressive to him, but he was concerned that it would be disturbing for Draco, so he ended the kiss between one breath and the next.

“Is your father here?” Draco questioned, cheeks flushed.

Harry laughed. “No, of course not. He’d never intrude on me in such a way. But we share the shroud. It thickens around me the further away he travels and right now you’re being wrapped up in it as well. Does it feel weird?”

“No, I’ve never….” Draco took a deep breath. “I’ve never felt safer in my life.”

“Good,” Harry murmured and smoothed one pale blond eyebrow with his thumb. “Others have responded badly to it without even knowing what it was. It’s made…staying the night with people extremely difficult as the shroud always thickens when I sleep.”

“As a security measure.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “When I was very small I slept under the invisibility cloak. In fact, I didn’t stop until shortly after the adoption because Dad knew I couldn’t do it at Hogwarts. It was hard to get used to sleeping without it. The shroud started to thicken in response to both my insecurity and his desire to soothe it. It became a habit then, later, after I started working for the Protectorate it became a necessity. My job makes me a hard target.”

“I know.” Golden fire shimmered on Draco’s skin then, beguiling and uniquely dangerous. “I’m not a liability, Harry.”

“No, but you make me weak,” Harry admitted and flushed when Draco’s eyes went wide. “It’s astounding, to be honest, to be vulnerable like this. I didn’t think it was possible, and it would’ve never crossed my mind I’d be so enamored with it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I learned when I was very young to not want things for myself,” Harry admitted. “I don’t mean material things as Dad spoiled me absolutely rotten. Being raised by a literal god has its perks, and I can’t say otherwise. But, I knew and understood my magical duty from a very early age. He had no choice but to make it clear to me as soon as he could because death magic is anything but trivial.”

“So, you gave everything you had to that duty.”

“My mortal parents died for me,” Harry said and Draco’s eyes darkened. “Every breath I take is because of the sacrifices made for me by all of my parents. It became an armor of a sort. I’ve tried for years to make duty enough.”

“It’s not.”

“No, of course, it isn’t,” Harry said roughly. “I just kept trying regardless because nothing else felt tenable. You, honestly, deserve better.”

“Shut up,” Draco muttered.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do and that’s appalling. I’m the son of a Death Eater,” he said. “And no one will ever let me forget it. You’re well-educated, successful, and absolutely gorgeous.”

“I’m the son of Death,” Harry said quietly. “And if it were to be widely known, people all over this fucking planet would run in fear of me for the rest of their small, narrow lives.” He paused. “Though, it won’t ever be known that way.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad has a long and storied history of making people forget the unpleasant things they learn about me.”

Draco laughed.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious,” Draco assured. “And also, charming.”

“It’s mental manipulation and that’s dark as fuck,” Harry retorted. “It certainly shouldn’t be done casually, and he does it all the damn time.”

“Some people are just happier in their ignorance,” Draco said with a shrug and laughed again as Harry turned them over.

Harry leveraged over his lover and tried to frown but it was hard because Draco was beautiful when he laughed. “You can’t encourage him.”

“Oh,” Draco said seriously. “I’m gonna encourage the fuck out of that shite.” He cupped the back of his head. “Come down here.”

Harry sank into him without a word and sought a kiss. His unspoken demand was met with languid eagerness, and Draco practically melted underneath him as he spread his legs. There was so much decadence to be found in his soulmate’s embrace that it was easy to get lost in the emotions and physical pleasure.

He slid a hand underneath them, slipped his fingers against Draco’s arsehole and renewed the prep charm with a push of his magic. Then he shifted just a little, used his hand to tip Draco’s hips just the way he needed and pushed his cock inside.

Draco groaned against his mouth and they stopped kissing.

“Fuck.”

“Good?” Harry questioned, though he knew it was. “Don’t worry, my bed is warded for fire. I made sure when I realized you were an elemental.”

“That kind of advanced planning should be extremely off-putting,” Draco said as he wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist. “But it’s kind of hard to find anything unattractive about you.”

“I have a terrible temper,” Harry confessed as he continued to fuck Draco with long, sure strokes. “I’m impatient with stupidity, and never once considered civility a genuine choice when faced with it.”

Draco grinned. “I noticed all of that ages ago, darling.”

Harry stared for a moment then took a deep breath as he buried his face against Draco’s neck. They fell into a slow languid grind that got them both off much faster than he intended but Draco was clearly content with the outcome, so Harry just relaxed into the comfort of pleasure and acceptance with a shudder.

* * * *

The common area went dead silent when they entered but Harry resolved not to say a word either way. He poured himself some coffee and selected food from the menu before passing it Draco’s way.

“We decided to start the day slowly since you two were busy half the night,” Hermione said and her cheeks flushed as Harry focused on her.

Draco made a production of his tea in the silence that followed her comment, sat back with a shrug. “For the record, he’s not a barbarian.”

Neville laughed a little.

Harry retrieved their food from the sideboard where deliveries landed and unrolled his silverware from a crisp linen napkin. He cleared his throat. “I suspect I’ll be called into a meeting regarding Dumbledore’s banning from the bank today despite the fact that I had no say in it, can’t change it, and don’t actually care.”

“He does seem to think it’s your job to clean up his messes,” Pansy said.

“For free,” Neville said as he pushed his empty plate back from him a bit and made himself another cup of tea. “Though that’s pretty common for his generation. They seem to think that consequences are for other people—across the board.”

“Magical society is isolated,” Harry said. “And that isolation is, for lack of a better word, corruptive. Crimes in the Muggle world are often covered up due to the Statute of Secrecy no matter what it might be. Sometimes the wizard or witch in question is punished by our own legal system, and sometimes not. It depends in the country, the amount of influence the magical person has, and the amount of gold that can exchange hands in the process.

“I’ve covered up a serial murder case last year,” he paused when they all gaped at him. “Of course, I also killed the wizard responsible.”

“Right,” Hermione said an exhaled. “But those crimes will go unsolved as far as Muggles are concerned?”

“Right,” Harry admitted. “It’s no real sort of justice since such a thing is for society and the people left behind rather than the victim. But at least that particular wizard won’t continue to murder people for his own personal gratification. Historically, magical people haven’t been punished by the Muggle court system, and they certainly can’t be contained in one of their prisons.” He waved a hand. “Though to be honest, that’s for the best. The last time the Muggle population tried to administer justice to us—they just burned us at the stake.”

“Wow,” Pansy muttered and cut sausage. “Just wow.”

“He’s not wrong,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, it was a problem at Hogwarts, too,” Pansy said and Harry laughed. “He rarely bothered to talk and when he did, he’d say something that was both true and absolutely appalling then just leave you to deal with it.”

“I avoid Muggles as much as I possible can,” Harry admitted and shrugged when Hermione practically glared at him. “It’s not about any sort of discrimination. I often say what I think and that would be…problematic around people who don’t know about magic. Also, Muggles and some magical creatures find it difficult to be in the same room with me. They don’t know why and probably never will know—but it’s a big enough problem than it’s been noticed by other magicals in the past.

“I had to work hard to avoid house elves at Hogwarts because my magical circumstances scares the fuck out of them. Unfortunately, their magical response is so strong that I can’t get one to stay still long enough to make them understand that I’d never hurt them. As for Muggles,” Harry shrugged, “they’re often more of a problem than anything else for the Protectorate. It’s my job to protect magic and the magical world from them.”

“Because most magicals don’t understand the threat of them,” Draco surmised.

“Not remotely—they think magic makes them safe from Muggles and Muggle technology. Granted, we do hide a lot with magic and always have. But over the last three decades we’ve had to invent whole new fields of magic to hide from them. It’ll only get worse as their technology advances. It doesn’t help that there are parts of every organized government on this planet are actively working to find ways around our magical protections.”

“Really?” Hermione questioned.

“Oh certainly, because they understand that we are a threat to them. Many also resent our power and the scope of magic,” he paused briefly. “And we’ve been outed twice in the last fifty years alone—globally. We had to activate protocols that require a deep majority vote by the ICW, permission from the World Court, the cooperation of the Protectorate, and empowerment from Hekate herself to erase those events from the minds of every single person on the planet.”

“Even magicals, obviously,” Draco said.

“Well, spell work of that scope can’t be contained since it resonates from a higher magical plane where Hekate rules and we all must take a knee. At the end of the day, no magical or celestial person can deny the will of Hekate.” He paused. “Unless you want to face Zirnitra and frankly, I’d do a fucking lot to avoid the direction attention of the Black Dragon.” He sat back in his chair. “The last magical society to defy him was Atlantis, and he wiped the city and the adult population off the face of the planet. The children were then spread out over the entire planet through adoption—deepening the reach of magic into regions and communities that had been relatively free of it before.”

“You mean to say that families suddenly had children that…they just accepted,” Hermione murmured.

“Accepted, believed them to be their own from the very start, yes. That is the power of Zirnitra,” Harry said quietly. “It stands to reason that every single one of us is a descendant of such a child, Hermione, as the magical population was quite small world-wide at the time.”

“That’s not in any single magical history text I’ve ever read.”

“I’m going to tell you something that will probably set your hair on fire,” Harry began conversationally and she laughed. “Due to Britain’s disgusting ideology around advancement and purposeful ignorance, you’ve been exposed to less than a third of the information you should as a magical person. You’ve also read about half of our genuine history as a society and are completely ignorant of entire fields of magic because the Ministry of Magic actively prevents that information from entering the country in any single way.”

She stared at him, eyes dark and full of hurt. “I wish I thought you were lying to me.”

“I know,” he said. “It might also interest you to know that half a dozen institutions and organizations have actively considered your personal removal from Britain because it was collectively decided when you were in your fifth year at Hogwarts that you were the most intelligent person of our generation. The ICW had to outright forbid your kidnapping twice in the past five years. The International Academy of Magic declared your educational circumstances to be an atrocity and tried to start an International Brouhaha a year after you sat your NEWTS.”

Neville put a hand on her arm then and took a deep breath. “Are there individuals I should worry about?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah, I already killed those two bastards.” He finished his toast in the silence that followed, stood and stretched. “Since Draco is a full time job, I’m exhausted. I’ll start the scrying spell so we can check on Riddle’s location and dedicate most of day to working on the rune sequence for the magical sinks. I’ll need perimeters from Master Feyborn’s process sooner rather than later. So, if you ladies could focus on that today, I’d appreciate it. Neville, you’ll need to start building a magical reserve through communion. You can draw a personal circle for that or use the ritual platform. Draco, I’ve a list of potions we’ll need for ritual cleansing starting next week. It’s on your work table.”

“You’ve killed…because of me,” Hermione said.

Harry stared for a moment. “It was all sanctioned. The protection of magic is quite…broad. I’ve always had your back, Hermione. Even when I was ignoring the hell out of you.”

“Maybe especially when you were ignoring the hell out of her,” Neville said dryly. “Right? Dumbledore would’ve found her very useful.”

“Oh, he certainly. He still would if it weren’t for you and your grandmother. Just by being her friend at school, you prevented a lot of bullshite that could’ve come in her direction due to her blood status. Your grandmother was a Hit Witch for the Protectorate for fifteen years before she came back to Britain to retire.”

Neville huffed a little. “I know she still works for you guys, Harry. She’s got a whole not-so-secret basement in her house dedicated to that job.” He waved hand. “Though I have no idea what she does.”

“Nothing strenuous,” Harry assured and laughed when Neville sighed. “But she’s on-call for local matters, and I’d let her have my back any day.”

All four stared at him for a moment, clearly startled. He shrugged and trotted off toward the ritual room because he’d expended his social spoons already and it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

* * * *

“Dumbledore wants the entire project be moved to a building owned by the Ministry of Magic,” Shacklebolt announced shortly after Harry slouched down in a chair at the large, glossy conference table.

“No.”

Shacklebolt stared at him. “You’re working on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic, Master Potter, and we require oversight.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry retorted and Master Ito sighed. “I’ve never worked on behalf of your ministry, and I never will. I don’t answer to you, Shacklebolt. I don’t answer to Albus Dumbledore, either. You can’t do anything about it, and neither can he. Is there a number we have to reach regarding you being told no before you accept it for a final answer?”

“Dumbledore has been banned from the bank,” Shacklebolt snapped. “And we can’t do anything about it, apparently. The ICW won’t even interfere. The fucking goblins just get to do whatever the hell they want, apparently. They don’t know how to stay in their place!”

Harry stood and the shroud thickened around him in response to his father’s arrival. “Leave.”

“Excuse me?” Shacklebolt demanded.

“I’m not going to tolerate a fucking bigot in my face,” Harry said coldly. “I won’t meet with you or anyone else from your administration again. This entire conversation is over, as I have no time for the morally bankrupt and never will.”

“You think I’m a bigot?” Shacklebolt asked, clearly shocked.

“I know you are, and it’s disgusting to be in the same room as you. You are so removed from the worship of Hekate that you’d put yourself above other magical creatures. I can’t tolerate such blasphemy,” Harry said evenly as he turned and focused on Ragnok. “Your Majesty, I’m finished with this conversation. I will not be called back into a room to deal with this person again. Are we clear?”

“As crystal,” Ragnok said and stood. “Master Blackaxe, escort Minister Shacklebolt from my land. He’s not allowed to return for one year but may assign a proxy to handle any of his personal banking for him.”

Shacklebolt sputtered. “You can’t just….” He trailed off as Fyre Blackaxe appeared out of thin air at his side and prodded him out of his chair. “But….”

“Shut up, wizard,” Master Blackaxe said. “The King has spoken and in this realm, his word is law.”

Harry walked to the fireplace, focused on the flames, and pulled out his herbal case as Shacklebolt hustled out of the room by Blackaxe and two other guards. The moment the door shut, he lit his herbal and took a very deep drag. His magic was drifting around him, dark and heavy in way he couldn’t mitigate.

The doors shut finally and locks clicked into place. His father appeared then, directly in front of him. Harry didn’t look at Ragnok, or the other dwarrow that remained in the room. He would have to mitigate any situation after Thanatos left as the situation required he give his father and patron his undivided attention.

“Most of them don’t deserve a single moment of my time,” Harry said flatly.

“True,” Thanatos agreed. “They never did. But this kind of ethical problem isn’t contained in Britain. There are disgusting bastards all over world—magical and Muggle alike. The soul cycle exists because an immortal soul must work repeatedly over hundreds of lives to become the best version of itself.”

Harry offered him an herbal and it was accepted. He stored the case and continued to smoke as he drifted mentally and magically in his father’s shroud. The silence around them wasn’t oppressive and none of the dwarrow were getting impatient. He glanced toward them and found King Ragnok, Rhys Sharprock, and Tyr Warhide standing on the opposite side of the room. Ragnok offered him a sharp nod, so Harry just nodded in return and focused his attention back on his father.

“Is Riddle in a body?”

“Yes,” Thanatos said. “I’ve considered knocking him out of the person in question,; but it is a willing possession. Over the years, I’ve prevented him from forcing a hosting, but he’s found compatriots here and there that eventually died because no mortal body can contain him long-term.”

“Not a single one? Not even if he made a construct like he once planned to do?”

“The construct would fall to pieces in under a decade. His magic would basically eat it,” Thanatos said.

“Gross,” Harry muttered and his father laughed. “Have you started talking to them?”

“Yes, I’ve had conversations with ever magical spiritual manifestation in Wales and the UK. Scotland is left, and that’ll be a job because I have to be careful when I’m in Hogwarts and there are many in that valley. The school attracts them to an untold degree. They’re being told they have no choice regarding crossing over because the final exorcism spell will encompass the entire country.”

“And the non-magical ones?”

“I can’t speak with them,” Thanatos said. “No one can. As a result, they will crossover without knowing why. It’s not my preference, but there is nothing for it as they are starting to corrupt as well. I’ve come across two elemental demons, by the way, and Hades retrieved them. He told me to let you know that he’ll be on hand to do his part when the spiritual migration begins. Several souls in the process belong to him at this point, and they’ve avoided his attention for hundreds of years through manifestation.”

Harry nodded. He had no interest in getting in the way of Hades business. “I don’t have to talk to him, do I?”

Thanatos raised an eyebrow, smoked for a bit in silence, and shrugged. “He knows better than to get closer to you than you want, Harry. They all do at this point.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You did well, lad. You always do.”

“I….” Harry exhaled slowly. “They just make me sick.”

“Well, of course they do,” his father said gently. “Your moral code, no matter how ambiguous anyone might believe it to be, is etched on your bones. Being confronted repeatedly by reprehensible is the reason we left this fucked up country as soon as the wards on Privet Drive expired.” He pulled him close and let his forehead rest against Harry’s. “Thank you, as always, for your self-control.”

Harry nodded even as his father faded away, and the shroud shifted around him in response.

He focused on his herbal, and took another long drag then let smoke trail out of his nostrils. “Master Warhide, you are now my solicitor of record. I’ll need a contract regarding a retainer.” He focused on the dwarf in question. “This is for your protection—since you can’t be made to violate a client’s privacy by any magical law.”

The dwarf’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thank you for your consideration, Master Potter. It was too late to leave the room…by the time I realized what he was.” He paused. “Was your adoption in blood and magic?”

“Yes,” Harry said and waved his herbal. “Demigod at your service.” He finished the herbal and the ash flicked away. “He’s normally much more considerate regarding such matters. You can expect an apology of some sort once he…allows his perspective to broaden enough to recognize what he did.” He sat down at the table and the three dwarrow joined him.

“Blasphemy is magically offensive to you,” Ragnok surmised. “Has it always been so?”

“I took a knee for Hekate when I was five years old,” Harry said quietly. “I surrendered to her care—emotionally, magically, and ethically. It had deep ramifications. Being here…is extremely difficult for me, and it’ll only get worse.”

“Obviously,” Rhys said and huffed a little when he got elbowed by his own king. “Those disgusting bastards with the ministry don’t care if he lives or dies. They never have.”

“Well, I did my duty as far as they were concerned,” Harry said. “And it was inconvenient when I didn’t die and worse when I failed repeatedly to meet their expectations. Their small and narrow minds are festering hotbeds of greed, bigotry, and willful ignorance. All of it bothers me on a profound magical level, but their lack of shame for it is just….” He waved a hand in frustration. “Genuine ignorance can be tolerated in the short term, but Shacklebolt genuinely believes himself to be better than your kind—superior in a way that is contrary to the will of Hekate. He’ll be punished severely upon death.”

A chime sounded in the room, and Rhys frowned before getting up to answer the door. Privacy protocols were normally well-observed in the bank, so Harry figured something significant was happening that required one of them.

Razel Fireborn entered with Hiro Ito not far behind him. “There’s been…a complaint lodged with the ICW.”

Hiro Ito carefully set a rolled parchment on the table in front of Harry. “The British Ministry of Magic has accused you of crimes against magic for reuniting the Deathly Hallows. They are insisting that you be separated from them immediately.”

Harry laughed a little and picked up the scroll. He tossed in Tyr Warhide’s direction and the dwarrow caught it. “Good thing I just hired a lawyer.”

Tyr opened the scroll with a neutral expression, read it, and then put it down. He pulled out a quill and started to make notes on it. “As I’m sure you know, not a single government organization on the planet has any authority whatsoever to demand that an individual part with the Deathly Hallows. They are the magical artifacts of Death himself. If the God of Death has a problem with Master Potter’s ownership or use of the Hallows, I’m sure he’ll let him know personally.”

Ito focused on Harry and raised an eyebrow.

“I would assume that the King keeps his heir well-informed, and if so, there is no one unaware of my genuine circumstances in this room.”

Ito nodded thoughtfully. “Both the ICW and the World Court of Magic welcomes Thanatos to make his position on any matter perfectly clear whenever he would wish it, Master Potter.”

“You may come to regret that,” Harry said.