Part One – Should Have Been – By Mykki

Reading Time:
22 Minutes

Part One

Oct 29 2007

Rolling over in the configured bed, Harry disentangled himself from the curled-up body beside him and stared at the tent’s roof, the sun already taking its toll on the cooling charms built into the wards. 

A hand slid down his chest, making Harry turn his head to look into cool silver eyes, and he suppressed a shudder at the heat already in them.

It felt kind of surreal, almost a decade after the war, and seven years together, but as Harry submitted to the kiss, he waved one hand at the door flap warding it for silence and pulled Draco to straddle his thighs, marveling that after years of private obsession he could say with certainty he was happy.

Sliding his hand down the bare back, Harry traced his hand along the crest of Draco’s crack, enjoying the hiss of pleasure that broke the kiss, and gazed back into dilated eyes showing more black than silver. 

Twisting his fingers into Draco’s long silver-white hair, he gently turned his head and licked a strip up his neck, murmuring against the skin, “You’re gorgeous, Dragon.”

“Of course I am, love,” Draco whispered, tipping his head even further to give Harry access, hands planted on either side of his head, rolling his hips instinctively against Harry’s rapidly hardening cock. “I was born perfect, and that will only increase as I age.”

Huffing a disbelieving laugh, Harry slid his hand up to activate the runes on Draco’s lower back.

Draco moaned low in his throat as Harry’s magic rushed through his system and dropped his head to the dark tanned shoulder biting it gently, as Harry cupped his hips, angling him to press inside.

“Oh, yes…” Draco hissed, slipping in Parseltongue without a thought, tongue slipping out partially transformed.

Matching his groan of pleasure, Harry tipped his head back, bracing his feet on the bed to provide leverage as he thrust shallowly.

“Yeah?“ Harry whispered hoarsely as Draco tightened reflexively, swiveling his hips, drawing him in deeper.

“Yes. Right there.” Draco responded, straightening in Harry’s lap, “You feel so good.”

“Of course I do.” Harry responded smugly, thrusting up into the warm heat of Draco’s hole, “We know each other and what we want, Dragon.”

Bracing his hands on Harry’s chest, Draco stopped his movements and looked into Harry’s eyes. “Move in with me.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting the statement and knowing that while they spent most of their time together on assignment and outside it, they still had separate residences. Flooded with a yearning for the man above him, Harry surged up, roughly claiming Draco’s lips in a furious rush of tongue and teeth, arm circling Draco’s waist to control his movements and lifting him up and down the length of his cock.

Desperately, Draco broke the kiss, panting against his lips as he clung to Harry’s shoulders, as Harry dragged his lips down Draco’s throat, “Yes, yes, whenever you want.”

Chuckling throatily, Draco shook his head in admonishment. “You shouldn’t give a man that sort of power, love.”

“Draco.” Harry couldn’t help the whine that slipped out before shifting onto his knees, lifting Draco to lay him on his back, surging inside his body once again, hips moving forcefully but carefully lest he hurt him.

Not appearing to mind the position or the possessiveness at the display, Draco held him closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, moving in time with the thrust, head thrown back as he erupted all over his chest.

Hips stuttering at the abandonment on Draco’s face, Harry thrust a couple more times, following him panting weakly against his neck, whispering softly, “Were you serious?”

Draco was silent for so long that Harry was reluctant to raise his head, and only did so when he felt the firm press of lips against his forehead, catching the remnants of his scar.

When he shifted, pulling from Draco to lie beside him, he curled a hand under his head, trying not to flinch when he felt the other man roll, and curl a hand over his cheek before sliding it into his shoulder-length hair, tipping his head back to meet his eyes, “Of course I’m serious, love.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Harry searched his eyes, relaxing slowly at what he saw, a slow smile spreading across his face as it reached his eyes, “I love you.”

“Hmm.” Draco hummed, leaning forward to brush their noses together before brushing his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. “I love you too, you git, now clean me up, before someone comes looking for us.”

Feeling a thrill at the visual the words implied, though if it was the implication he was dirty or that of a potential audience, Harry couldn’t say, even as he reached for Draco, earning another throaty laugh, that was more of a giggle that spread a warmth through Harry’s chest that he could inspire that response. “You’re insatiable, and normally I don’t object, but we have work to do today.”

Sighing, Harry lifted his head to glance at the clock and grimaced at the time before running a hand over both their bodies, not even needing to whisper the cleaning and freshening charms, a cocky grin spreading across his face as Draco shuddered against him. 

Sitting all the way up, Harry grabbed an elastic from the makeshift side table, deftly parted his hair, and braided it before sliding out of bed and moving to the trunk to pull out clothing.

He was half-dressed when he glanced at the bed and found Draco still sprawled across it, gazing at him with half-hooded eyes and licking his lips. “You keep looking at me like that, and we will be late.”

“I know,” Draco replied carelessly, but sat up, copying Harry’s earlier action of braiding his hair back and out of the way. “And if only we didn’t have a tomb to clear and a meeting with the head of the horde nation after, I’d be tempted to say fuck it, but we need a vacation after this assignment.”

Considering they’d been in Egypt now for three months, with very little progress, Harry was inclined to agree as he sat down and pulled on his dragon lined boots, “that works for me, where do you want to go? Rome? France?”

The blond rose from the rumpled bed, straightening the blankets with a flick of his fingers as he strolled naked across the room picking out clothing from the trunk and pulling them on, “well if we’re going to move in together, maybe we could….”

When Draco trailed off, Harry glanced at him in concern. “Could what?”

“We could get a place of our own?” Draco finished avoiding eye contact and shrugged into a long-sleeve shirt.

“You-you don’t want to stay at the manor?” Harry asked hesitantly, watching Draco carefully, knowing the subject was normally avoided.

Slowly, Draco shook his head. “I think it would be best to avoid that, considering my father is being freed from Azkaban in the next couple of years. It would be better to have our own place already established, so he can’t fight it without drawing attention to himself.”

Harry frowned, more annoyed with himself for having forgotten the tenth anniversary was coming up, which meant freedom for some of the imprisoned. “Will he be a problem if we go public with our relationship?”

“No more than the Weasleys, I imagine,” Draco replied, carelessly hiding his unease behind a mask of pure-blood blankness that Harry could see through after years together.

Snagging Draco’s hand, he pulled him into the vee he made with his legs, curling his hands around his thighs, anchoring him in place, “Talk to me, love, are you regretting-“

“No,” Draco interrupted firmly, nostrils flaring even as his shoulders slumped, “I’m just envisioning worst case scenarios I guess, because moving in together would put truth to the rumours we’ve spent years denying.”

Curling his hands around Draco’s thighs, pulling him even closer, Harry dragged his nose over the sliver of skin still exposed, pressed a kiss there, and lifted his head. “Draco, I don’t care what they think, and haven’t since I walked during Auror, and enrolled in the ISM instead of marrying Ginny as everyone expected.”

Snorting, Draco ran a hand across Harry’s face, tracing the faint scarring from a previous tomb raid. “It didn’t stop them from speculating before we even started working together.”

“No, it didn’t, but that was because they couldn’t accept my defense of you and your mother during the trials.” Harry replied gently, squeezing when Draco’s face fell, “and I still don’t regret that decision, it was the single most satisfying moment that I’ve had in my life – short of Riddle dropping dead.”

Draco jerked in his hold, staring at Harry in shock, “What? Why?”

Shrugging, Harry wordlessly summoned their swords and set them on the seat beside him, “Well, not only because it was the right and just thing to do, but it was honestly the first thing I ever did for myself. Everything I did during Hogwarts and during the war was a carefully crafted and planned expectation of my life – even visiting Godric’s Hallow, though I told myself I owed it to them. But you were different. I knew you were innocent of the crimes they said you committed. With that mark formally on your arm, you were compelled to do as ordered, and I knew you did it under threat to your mother’s safety. But no one wanted the truth; they wanted convenience and convictions. It’s why I removed it before anyone saw it, Draco.”

Draco glanced at his left arm, touching it briefly before meeting Harry’s eyes. “I think I’ve loved you since I met you.”

Startled, Harry blinked and felt a blush form on his cheeks. “Well, I can’t deny you certainly made an impression both in Madame Mulkin’s shop and on the train; I just wish I hadn’t been fed a bunch of biases before I set foot in Hogwarts.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but the tall-tale blush was evident as he stepped back, picking up his dueling blade and buckling it to his waist. “Yes, I know I was a right little prat, and I drove you away from Slytherin, one of the minor regrets of my life.” He paused and then sighed, “Yet at the same time, while I might regret not being friends with you, it probably ensured you lived to win the war, the opposite of which is something I never want to contemplate, love.”

Harry softened at the vulnerability in Draco’s tone, and tightened his hold briefly before nudging him to step back and stood, sliding his hands up the sides of Draco’s neck, tilting it back to stare into his eyes, “We both had paths to take, which, while forced on us by others, had made us the men and wizards we are. I have minor regrets, but I’m hoping whatever we find in the tomb will help with one of those.”

“You mean your godfather? Is that why we’re here?” A flicker of something shone in Draco’s eyes as he asked the question, like he hated what he did but needed the answer too.

Harry swallowed and nodded, “Azkaban broke him in ways that defy human comprehension; he was chaotic and loud, intense and insane, but he also had this steadfast loyalty that was deeper than familial blood ties, even if he thought I was James more often than Harry, though I suspect he had ‘help’ with that.”

Draco looked at him, heartbreak spreading across his face. “I wish you had shared this, Harry, but you have to know there is nothing in this tomb that will bring Sirius back to life.”

A flash of fury spread across Harry’s face, one that was just as quickly replaced by tears, he scrubbed away furiously, “I know, I’m being stupid. I just- I’m the bloody Master of Death, but can’t find him anywhere, and I wanted one chance at a conversation that didn’t involve both of us being influenced by Dumbledore.”

Draco swallowed and took a step forward. “Have you been back to Godric’s Hollow since the war ended?”

Shaking his head, Harry avoided his eyes. “I commissioned a headstone for Sirius and had it placed next to my parents, but I could never get enough courage to go.”

Harry only blinked and looked at Draco when a pair of lips brushed against his, and noisily cleared his throat, and pulled from Harry’s embrace, “Let’s get this over with, if we don’t find what you’re looking for, we can visit together. He was my cousin as much as he was your godfather, but right now I need tea and a muffin, you?”

Smiling at the unexpected offer, brushing off the emotional topics, Harry finished getting ready, snagged his dragon-hide jacket on the way out of the tent, and brushed a kiss on Draco’s temple, muttering that there better be coffee.

-BREAK-

“You know this is folly,” a tall, stocky man said, as he appeared suddenly and silently beside the shorter, slightly stooped figure who stood outside the mess hall, quietly surveying the two human wizards eating their breakfast and talking quietly together.

“It may very well be, but it’s the only way forward.” The reply was soft, the emotion reflected in the tone unreadable.

The taller man glanced at his companion, “It’ll be today?”

“They’ve dispelled most of the protections displacing it.” The taller figure responded softly, not looking toward the tomb, a distortion on the visual plane, not really answering the question as he continued surveying the two men.

“But not those inside the tomb?” The stockier man asked, frowning at his taller companion, who avoided eye contact, a flicker of unease appearing in his green eyes, as he turned to watch the two in the tent, the laughter and obvious love shared between them doing nothing to still his unease, “Never thought a descendant of yours would find your mother’s tomb, did you?” If the tone was sarcastic, it was nothing like the response received.

“Never thought two of our descendants would intermarry either, yet here we are, Arthur.”

The stockier man grunted, crossed his arms, and glanced up at the man with narrowed eyes. “Will it work, Emrys?”

A snort of amusement escaped the tall, slender man as he answered the unspoken part of the question, “Of course it will; it might hurt them, but they won’t die.”

“Damn that foolish man,” Arthur growled, “if he hadn’t interfered, none of this would be necessary. Hadrian would have claimed the Regency like he was meant to.”

“Yes, well, we both know an immortal regent won’t do, and because he united the hallows, he serves a higher purpose.” The taller man spoke, his tone implying this wasn’t the first time this conversation had happened.

“Doesn’t make it right, or fair, Emrys,” Arthur snapped, pointing at Harry sitting in the tent, “He should have been King. That man would have been phenomenal, better than anything either of us tried to accomplish.”

Emrys bowed his head, sighing, even as he shook his head in disagreement, “he might have once, but forces beyond my sight robbed him of that.”

“Doing this won’t fix it,” Arthur said after a long moment of silence, not really addressing Emrys’ statement. “It won’t change what has happened to them; they’ll still remember and mourn.”

Emrys closed his eyes, then opened them, turning fully away from the two men and facing Arthur directly. “They need to remember so it can’t happen again; it’s why it’s happening no matter what we do.”

Arthur grunted, folding his arms, “Still doesn’t make it right.”

“No, but have you ever wondered, beyond the manipulations of Dumbledore, that is, why the sword claiming him didn’t activate the protocols?”

Arthur blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, blinked again, then slowly shook his head. “I never gave it a second glance.”

Emrys sighed, shoulders slumping, “I did, though it took years to admit even to myself what I already knew.”

“Which was?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I made a mistake,” Emrys admitted without humor, something closer to grief on his face, “tying us into the spell form that contained and protected Avalon prevented a new Guardian from being chosen.”

Arthur froze next to him, jaw slackening in shock, and forced himself to swallow. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Emrys flicked him a look, eyes drawn back to the two men standing in a semi circle with their crew, a look of concentration on all the faces though the words never reached them, and when he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with a type of grief that spoke to regret, “my mother was many things: mad, damaged, paranoid and broken, you’d have to be a combination of all those things to create spell forms that make an already immortal basilisk immune to the only thing that can kill it.” His voice dropped, growing soft, and almost reminiscent, “history says that Cleopatra was a brilliant, highly educated politician and strategist, but the truth of the matter was she was a seer that was driven insane, terrified by things she didn’t understand.”

Frowning, Arthur looked at his friend. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“Hadrian Peverall can’t be both king and guardian, which is what his entwined bloodline made him,” A dry, humorless laugh escaped Emrys as he watched the group of curse breakers head to the entrance of the temple, leaving a figure standing, watching with an expression of heartbreak on his face, “my mother foresaw this day over 2000 years ago, and started the runic array I completed in 423, that tied the remains of Avalon and us to this temple locking them both away in the last place anyone would think to look. The petition built into the array will ensure that Hadrain will still be born of my line, but will remove him from your line of succession. He needs the experience this world has taught him to become the Guardian of the King.”

“But-but didn’t you say that array would destroy the temple?” Arthur asked, reflecting his unease at knowing they were robbing the man of his family – knowing or not and stared at him, a sort of horrified shock growing on his face, “why did you never say anything?”

“It could.” Glittering green eyes met blue, and Emrys offered a bitter smile at his admittance, then stood there for a long moment in silence before he finally answered the second question, “I could say, hubris. When I decided to protect Avalon by hiding the key within the temple all those years ago, I did it thinking I was smarter and better than my mother. But honestly?” He asked and then answered before his friend could speak, “No one truly wants to know when they’ll die, Arthur, not even me.”

Arthur opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again as a tremor ran deep beneath the ground. “Will we still be in the new universe?”

Emrys looked at the temple, feeling a shudder slide through his magic as the door slid open, ignoring the panic from the remaining men on the ground, his voice almost lost in the clamor of noise that seemed to expand and reverberate in the air, “I don’t know, but this world should never have been, friend. We were always going to be the catalyst for a new beginning, just not in the way we believed.”

-BREAK-

Shimmering sand mingled and entwined with the distortion of the masking spell, giving the appearance of a mirage, yet even through that lens, the columns made it clear that it was more temple than tomb, something that had been evident when Harry had flown over the area. He’d marked extensive and detailed gardens, swimming pools, and lounge areas, mapping what he could see — which was much more than the others on the team — and yet no one felt inclined to offer an explanation for the difference he could see, though he caught a few glances toward Ragnok during meetings, the Dverger king unwilling to acknowledge those glances. 

For all that it was deeply unsettling, suspecting the men knew more than they let on, he felt comfortable and welcomed in a way; none of the others did, including Draco, though his lover had the advantage of using him as a shield when confronted with the magic of the tomb, something he had no shame in doing.

“It’s interesting to see that our stories match the legends passed down through generations.” The deep voice that spoke behind him made Harry turn with a quizzical expression.

“Your Majesty?” 

Ragnok smiled faintly and shook his head. “No need for formality, Hadrian; you may address me as Ragnok.”

Feeling a frown forming, Harry glanced at his longtime lover, knowing Draco was known for proper etiquette and was watching from a distance as he finished filling the dimensional store with preservations. “What did you mean, Ragnok?”

Ragnok didn’t respond for a moment, gazing out over the distorted field with a contemplative expression. “My great-grandfather walked those halls as a young man, long before his majority. His father was very welcome within the halls of Cleopatra for being honest and absolutely brutal in defense of the young pharaoh.” Ragnok paused, regarding Harry with glittering gold eyes, “The most remarkable thing about that is our lore had described the temple some two thousand years before it existed.”

Harry blinked at the implication, even as he tried to process the words and math involved. “I’m not sure I understand, your-Ragnok,” Harry whispered, correcting the title midway through at the raised eyebrow.

“I think you do, but the truth of my statement is daunting in the face of everything you’ve already faced.” Ragnok disagreed easily, rocking back on his heels, “It was foretold that once the temple disappeared, only a descendant of Cleopatra would be the one day able to call and open the entrance, though the trials they face will be the remaking of our universe.”

“Maybe I should keep my ass outside then,” Harry muttered, earning a soft chuckle from the Dverger and a shrug of indifference.

“Maybe you should, but you won’t,” Ragnok said, ignoring the little flash of rebellion on the face of the boy who lived and went on to become the man who conquered, “you feel a familiarity and recognition within the magic of the tomb, do you not? Something you’ve only experienced a number of times in your life, correct?”

“Yeah, my first time at Hogwarts,” Harry admitted softly, “though that was slowly spoiled the older I got.”

Ragnok grunted, “Anywhere else?”

“I’m sure it would be disturbing if I admitted it out loud, but the Veil deep in the DOM,” Harry replied in resignation.

“That would be because of your status as much as your unclaimed title, your grace,” Ragnok replied easily, “your entire duty as master of death is with the souls drawn to the veil; your refusal to claim Warwick didn’t negate that fact.”

Not able to argue that, Harry shrugged, “knowing they let my father’s title diminish, then die due to fear and outside manipulation, meant they never deserved what my voice could accomplish within the Wizengamot.”

“So you’ll never claim Warwick?” Ragnok questioned curiously.

“Not at this stage,” Harry admitted, glancing across the square to his lover, who shrugged, proving he was listening to the conversation, “not until they admit they were in the wrong for a great many things, I’m quite content with the knowledge they’ll forever be doomed to stagnate in a government they were happy to wallow in for years.”

A thoughtful hum left Ragnok as he glanced across the field towards Draco, making Harry tense unexpectedly, though he didn’t say anything.

“You two have a unique bond,” Ragnok finally said after a moment’s contemplation, meeting Harry’s eyes. “If one didn’t know better, I would say it’s a soulbond.”

Harry licked his lips, unsure how to respond, before deciding that honesty was always the better practice with the Dverger as a whole, and especially with the king of their nation. “It could and should have been, and would have, if the matrix hadn’t been irrevocably damaged sometime in the 90s.”

The king blinked, then blinked again, his aura flashing across his face in an uncharacteristic display of rage, evident in his tone as he demanded, “What does that mean?”

A humorless chuckle left Harry as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Just what I said, though I believe I can say they were corrupted in June of 1992, when the Avalon protocols never activated after I pulled Excalibur disguised as the sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat when confronted with my forefathers’ damaged familiar, Vidya, in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“What?” Ragnok’s voice was harsh and hoarse, barely a whisper of sound as he stared at the man in front of him, a man so young compared to his two hundred plus years, it was almost disturbing how knowledgeable he was, “you’re supposed to be our king?”

Harry shook his head, looking out over the field the tomb shimmered in, voice a soft murmur of pain, “Not in this lifetime, at best, I’m the impossibility of both Guardian and potential king; I can’t be both given my other duties.” 

“But-“ 

Ragnok started to protest, but stopped when Harry felt Draco slide in beside him, voice holding an edge of warning, “Society as a whole is not ready for an immortal king, Ragnok.”

“How do you know this?” Ragnok frowned and crossed his arms, glaring from one to the other before focusing on Harry. “It doesn’t seem fair; you’ve been denied your legacy.”

“After the war, I found an enchanted bible in my mother’s private vault that offers a detailed and complete family tree.” Harry offered simply.

“Even though it is a crime, we very briefly looked at ritual time-travel,” Draco admitted easily, almost carelessly, waving a hand to the field before them, offering a shrewd smirk, “but then he was plagued with dreams of this place, something I noticed during our meeting wasn’t as surprising to you as it should have been for a temple and tomb lost to myth.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Your conversation and admission led me to believe you already knew more than you said.”

Ragnok swallowed, glancing between the two men, shifting uneasily, “Not much that I believe would be of help, but my family’s oral history said that years before Cleopatra was born, there would be years with a dutiful and brilliant king, and then decades without. We were charged with a duty after so many turns of a century that someone would have to visit the coordinates of this location, so that Magic would uphold the promise given to the people upon Arthur Brenin’s death. That duty fell to me when my father passed, even if I was disappointed on my first visit when nothing of note happened.”

“But why agree to come back if you were disappointed once?” Harry asked in genuine bafflement.

Ragnok cleared his throat and met his gaze, “You are the first person to ever provide the exact coordinates when claiming you knew where the tomb was. It intrigued me and made me believe you might be a descendant, though admittedly I couldn’t even begin to speculate how you might relate to Cleopatra.”

Exchanging a look with Draco, Harry sighed as his lover shrugged, caressing his side as he left the conversation and moved towards the cluster of team members. Watching him for an extra breath, Harry looked back at Ragnok, “It’ll be unbelievable, but Cleopatra was Salazar Slytherin’s grandmother on his father’s side.”

Ragnok frowned, “Her children were killed after her death.”

Harry shrugged, “Not according to the bible, her oldest Caesarion was the only magical child she had. He faked his death and spent over five hundred years on a pointless quest, determined to destroy Rome, and though he succeeded after a fashion, the people he wanted revenge on had been dead for centuries, and no one knew who he was, as he went by the name Emrys Myddrian.”

The King choked, then coughed once, staring at Harry in wide-eyed horror. “Pardon me?”

Smiling, Harry offered his water canister, “Emrys Myddrian was once Caesarion, the son of Cleopatra and Caesar.”

“There is no way a bible gave you all that information,” Ragnok said, shaking his head in disbelief, accepting the offer and taking a drink before speaking, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say I accept it showed the family connection, but the rest? No, it’s not possible.”

“Well, I didn’t say I got all of it from the bible,” Harry protested in amusement, though his expression offered a hint of apology, “I had another source, Ragnok, one I don’t talk about for many reasons.”

“Who, or should I say, what is that?” The dryness in the king’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, yet Harry ignored it, accepting the canister back, stowing it in his dimensional store, and buttoning his jacket closed.

“Did your oral history give the name of who first gave the request four thousand years ago?” Harry asked softly.

“If they did, it’s been forgotten.” Ragnok admitted softly, “Why?”

“Her name was Medea Mavros, Ragnok, and I am her temporary placeholder until I enter that tomb and find what I need inside.” The explanation felt inadequate, and given the expression on Ragnok’s face, the king agreed with that thought, though he didn’t address it, his expression twisting into something Harry couldn’t describe, nor did he have enough courage to ask, not wanting an answer, and to save himself from receiving one he didn’t want, he offered a short bow and walked away, the team surrounding him with Draco to his left as they approached the ward stone that rose at his approach.

-Break-