Renaissance

A/N: As always, my thanks to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading this chapter. And warning religious mentions are made here, no offense is meant, hopefully none will be taken.
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12.

Dear Auror Potter:

The purpose of this letter is two-fold. First, I must thank you on behalf of Hogwarts and her students and staff. Once again, as so often happened during your own school years, your bravery and forthrightness have served as an example of the best in Wizarding character, and inspired hope and courage in others.

Last evening, as most students lounged and studied in their common rooms, your press conference was broadcast over several Orb stations. Those students who did not hear it firsthand were told by their classmates, or read this morning’s coverage in the Daily Prophet. Not since the declaration of the Tri-Wizard tournament has a single announcement so mobilised the student body. Already I have been approached by our Head Boy and Head Girl about instituting weekly roundtable debates. Roundtables and town hall meetings will give our children the opportunity to better understand the issues that face our society, as well as articulate their ideas and opinions as they become further rooted in fact rather than conjecture. Already they have started organising and wish to begin with a discussion of the concepts of unity and brotherhood amongst magical beings. Experts on interactions between magical creatures, along with two renowned historians, have been invited to speak and moderate an open dialogue with students.

Also, and perhaps of more immediate interest to you, I have been approached by three students involved in the distribution of the hate-filled propaganda I shared with you during our visit following the death of Cameron Davis. Your allusion to the course of hatred and intolerance ending in the strife which engendered the Voldemort wars struck a chord with these students, who were already uneasy with the violence encouraged in these tracts. Despite the rhetoric they espoused, Cameron Davis was a fellow student, and hir death put a known face to the issue. Your words, encouraging responsibility for one’s actions and to one another as beings who share in a unique and wondrous world, provided the final push for these floundering students to take hold of their courage and come forward. I feel these particular students are genuine in their remorse and I will take no further action against them beyond the scheduled parent conferences, revocation of privileges, and assigned detentions.

They have turned over all remaining student-produced copies of the offensive pamphlets as well as the original documents which they say were designed and printed by an as-yet unnamed source outside of Hogwarts. I have enclosed these originals so they may be analysed and have every confidence you and your task force will be successful in identifying the original magical signature.

It may also be useful to note the students named Vincent Green and Spencer Willoughby, who you may remember for their attack on Anna Malfoy in October, as the ones responsible for meeting with their source outside of Hogwarts and bringing the original tracts into the school for copying and distribution.

I certainly hope these students’ willingness to face their prejudice and misdeeds will help you bring an end to the violence that has destroyed so many lives and shrouded so many hearts with the darkness of intolerance.

Most sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry


Harry read through the letter once more with a cagey smile. Finally, they’d received the break they needed on this case. He had his team dispatched to address the leads McGonagall suggested: tracing the signature on the parchment, and reviewing the statements of the boys who had eventually been sentenced to fines and extensive community service (despite Draco’s strong-arm tactics, they’d been tried as juveniles—the Wizengamot considered the long-lasting effects of Retributus a severe enough punishment). If necessary they’d bring the boys in for additional questioning, but for now his head ached and his thoughts swam around how he’d reconcile Ron and Hermione with his burgeoning relationship with the Malfoys.

He and Ron had been at loggerheads many times before, but never over something that had the potential to completely overwhelm their trust and respect for each other. Hermione...well, her mistaken belief in Draco’s assumed rape and victimisation allowed for a modicum of compassion that might extend to understanding Harry’s feelings, but he doubted it, especially once she learned the truth about Anna’s birth and the Blood Rite adoption. It might as well have been Dark Arts, and Hermione was implacable when it came to their use. Harry sighed heavily; just thinking about the inevitable row made his suffering brain pound harder. The young Auror laid his head on his blotter feeling every second of his age—give or take a hundred years more.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Auror Potter.” Natalie, the unit secretary, popped her head in the door. “Mer. Malfoy is here to see you, sir. Shall I show hir in?”

Harry’s head snapped up off his desk. Urgh, bad move. Headache plus sudden movement makes for a bad combination. Feeling a bit green, he nodded gingerly. “Yes, send hir in, Nat. Thank you. Oh, and arrange seating outside the door for Agent Thomas, would you?”

A few minutes later Draco strode into Harry’s office. Sie took one look at Harry’s pallor and haggard stance and manhandled him back into his chair. Before the Auror quite knew what’d happened he found his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea that smelled faintly of the rose-scented potion in Draco’s hands.

“Drink up, Potter,” the mage said softly in deference to Harry’s tenacious headache. “I’m rather partial to these robes and you look more likely to vomit on them than manage conversation at the moment.” Sie set the potion phial down and set hir nimble fingers to work tracing light circles over Harry’s temples, the gentle motion belying the bite of hir snark.

Lulled by the soothing rhythm, Harry relaxed. The tension eased, and by the time Draco had finished hir impromptu massage the potion had kicked in fully. Harry was a wobbly mass whose troubles were a now a long thought away. “S’at feels wonderful,” Harry slurred as Draco eased him back onto the headrest.

“Well,” sie chuckled, “I’ve always had talented hands.”

Harry snickered lightly. “Tell that to the Snitch next time we play.” He sat forward slowly and rolled his neck. “Maybe it’ll reconsider letting you catch it.”

Draco scoffed and tapped the back of his head. “Prat. I’ll ask you to kindly recall our last Seeker’s match, Potter.”

“Besides,” sie added with a soft smile, coming around to perch on the edge of Harry’s desk, “I’ve already caught the most elusive and impressive prize.” Sie leaned forward down and met Harry’s lips. The touch was brief but bestowed both tenderness and a fierce possessiveness. Harry smiled against hir mouth and reached up to cup hir cheek, the claim acknowledged and reciprocated.

“That you have,” he grinned, pecking Draco’s lips once more before dropping another quick kiss on hir pointed nose and sitting back fully. “Now what brings you into the Ministry? I thought you were staying home today.” Harry stretched out his hand and stroked over Draco’s long pale fingers as he spoke.

Straightening hir back, the blond mage frowned as sie reached into hir robe pocket. Harry hissed as Draco withdrew a now-familiar fold of parchment. It looked like the same parchment favoured by the killer.

“Another one?”

Draco sighed with disgust and handed it over. “Mer. Redbank’s death is on my head, and according to this it will get worse.”

Harry unfolded the letter and Draco ran hir finger over the most troubling passage:

Corrupter of innocents, destroyer of families, even those whose allegiance you do not claim are fouled by your influence. The world can only be cleansed when washed with your blood. As Abraham was called to sacrifice his beloved son, so will I bleed babes to purge your taint from all Wizard-kind. Thus will their souls be saved. No longer shall you lead them astray, false accursed shepherd.

Harry was pale and shaking with rage when he finally met the mage’s grim visage. “Draco, this is—”

“—disturbing, I know.” The blond shook hir head. “It’s absolutely mad. But we’ve been given another clue. Abraham’s near-sacrifice of his son is related in a Muggle book, a holy text called The Bible.” Sie spared Harry a questioning glance, to which Harry nodded his familiarity with the book in question. He was Muggle-raised, after all, and though the Dursleys had never been much on churchgoing, there were the occasional holidays and Sunday lessons for Dudley—meaning that Harry, who did Dudley’s Sunday school homework, was passing knowledgeable about some Bible stories.

Draco redirected hir attention to the parchment, tapping a finger over the passage. “By this I’d say the killer is someone who’s had some exposure to Muggle Christian religion.”

Harry considered hir thoughtfully. “A Muggle-born?”

Draco shook hir head. “No...dual-heritage, maybe. The key is exposure to Christianity, not full knowledge. Whoever is doing this was not truly raised in the religion. There are too many mistakes and mixed references. In the story Abraham is asked to sacrifice his son, yes, but the child is saved. The Christian god viewed the father’s willingness to abide by his command as proof of Abraham’s complete faith and provided a lamb to be sacrificed instead. The Christian god does not allow the slaughter of the child, as the writer of the poison-pen suggests.

“Per their dogma, the only blood sacrifice is made of the Christian god’s son, a Jesus Christ, from whom the religion takes its name. Christians call him, among other things, the Lamb of God, as he was innocent of the crimes for which he stood accused; and as the son of a god they believe he had the power to redeem the sins of mankind.

“The killer has merged the meanings of the stories and perhaps considers themselves as powerful as this Jesus Christ, or as faithful as Abraham.” Draco huffed and shook hir head. “I don’t know. I’ve studied Christianity and other Muggle religions superficially to familiarise myself with their tenets and mythology. I’m no theologian to provide an answer to this, Harry. Even if I were, I’d say someone capable of this kind of violence has perverted the teachings far beyond their intent.”

Harry pinched his nose under his glasses; tendrils of tension were slowly pushing their way forward, pooling behind his eyes and across his forehead. It seemed no matter what he did, today was going to be a headache kind of day. “I’ll have my team consider this,” he said tiredly. “Hermione’s worked up a profile but it doesn’t make mention of anything like this. Perhaps having a basic understanding of this nutter’s possible motivation will help us protect you and other targets.”

Grey eyes went stormy with sadness and frustration. “Harry, I’m not willing to take that risk. I read this as a threat to the children close to me. Minerva’s approved additional security and I’ve directed Paul to install secondary teams at Hogwarts, Heritage House, and the academy. He’ll also be joining Soren as Anna’s personal guard.”

The mage took a breath and fixed Harry with a determined look. The Auror raised his brows in question: that look said nothing good. “This needs to be over.” Harry nodded and folded his hands. He could agree with that statement, but he wasn’t feeling any better about where it was leading. “Yule is coming and none of us need this hanging over our heads. We know the killer wants me, and I think—” sie shot a tentative look at Harry’s stark face from under hir lashes— “I think we should give them what they want.”

Harry blinked as the silence spread between them, slow and thick like treacle. He blinked again.

“No.”

Draco raised a hand imploringly. “Wait, Harry, hear me out. I don’t particularly relish the idea of setting myself out as bait, but there’s plenty I can be doing at both Heritage House and Heritage Academy over the next little while in the name of Yule preparations if this idiot is watching me. This is the perfect opportunity. I’ll be in contact with the children he also seems to want, and we can arrange for discreet security to ensure none of them are at risk. We create the illusion of a prize too rich to ignore: me and the children.”

“NO! Are you mad, Draco? I will not have you putting yourself in the line of fire to draw this psychopath out. Forget that you could be hurt, or killed. And gods know what Anna would do if that happened. A child from Heritage House or the academy could be taken hostage or injured or killed because someone’s attention was misdirected for one second. It’s too damn risky!

“We’re following the parchment leads right now and hopefully that’ll give us something. Now we have the biblical reference angle to look into as well. There is absolutely no need to risk you!” Harry kicked back his chair and stood to grip the blond’s slender shoulders. “I can’t risk you, Draco. I won’t!”

Unhurriedly Draco shrugged Harry’s hands off hir shoulders, and with near-otherworldly grace slid from his desk and crossed the small office to seat hirself in a worn leather club chair in the conversation corner next to the fireplace. Harry took in this performance aptly but was still surprised when Draco finally spoke. “I seem to recall, Potter,” sie began, languidly crossing hir legs, “having already told you that I am not one to sit back and be coddled. Despite occasional displays to the contrary, I know you are neither lacking in mental faculties nor hearing, so I assume you do remember and recognise that our relationship does not grant you the right to swaddle me in cotton wool so to tuck me away from danger—real or imagined.” Sie raised a pale blonde brow, hir voice dripping with the condescension Harry had so despised in their youth.

I suppose I deserved that. Thoroughly chastened, Harry met hir fiercely glinting eyes and again scrubbed his hands through his hair. “It’s not like I could get you to hold still long enough anyway,” he grumbled, knowing any such attempt would probably end in the bollocking of his life.

Harry blew out a hard breath. “All right, all right, I got it,” he sighed, fingering the dark strands he’d pulled from his head and wincing as he counted their number. He held out the yanked hairs. “See? Worry is driving me bald, and it’s entirely your fault. I hope you’ll still fancy me when I’m wandering around sporting Kingsley’s ’do.”

Draco snorted at Harry’s attempt to lighten the mood, but the two shared a smile and some of the tension bled from the room. “I understand, Draco, I do,” Harry said, coming from behind his desk to crouch at Draco’s side. “I just...I wouldn’t want any civilian target to do as you’re suggesting. But in a situation like what we’re facing I would consider it,” he grudgingly admitted, keeping his eyes on the subtle pattern woven into the triarii’s trousers. ”I’d hate it, but I’d consider it. And I have to do that here. I just—you understand why I’m anxious about this, don’t you?” He carefully stroked down the knife-edge crease of the grey wool. “I couldn’t handle—I wouldn’t—I don’t want anything to happen to you...Draco, I couldn’t bear it.” He hung his head, adding a whisper of his worry.

Draco made a soft noncommittal sound and encouraged Harry’s head down onto the armrest. “I suppose you feel now much as I will when Harry Potter, the Super Auror Extraordinaire, is called upon to respond to a dangerous situation.” Sie gently scritched Harry’s scalp, then used hir hold to tug his head up. “You have your duty, Harry, your responsibilities,” sie said, hir grey eyes holding Harry’s with firm compassion and understanding. “I will not try to change you or undermine your commitments, but neither should you devalue mine. I have a duty to Renaissance Foundation, to the triarii, and must do my part to stop the killings. Mer. Redbank wasn’t affiliated with Renaissance in anyway as far as Mark and I can tell, Harry. If the killer can now find even those of us who are passing, then absolutely none of us are safe. I have to do something to stop this.”

Draco’s loosened fingers slid through his hair as Harry nodded. “I’ll take your proposal to my team. We’ll wait and see how far the parchment analysis takes us, see if we can isolate the magical signature and run this bastard to ground first.” Harry brought himself to his full height to stretch his legs. “If we don’t have enough to hunt them down we’ll likely implement your plan to flush him out, with you to bait the trap.” He rolled his shoulders with a resigned sigh.

The grim, accepting smile Draco wore as Harry first began to stretch became a wicked smirk as sie appraised his form. “Good,” sie purred, pulling Harry forward over the chair. “I have plans for you this Yule, Mr. Potter,” Draco whispered warm and wanting against Harry’s lips. “And believe me, they’ve nothing to do with you chasing murderous psychotics or responding to late-night crime scenes.”

By now Harry had got quite used to Resonance and the sometimes lightning burn that sparked when it arched between him and Draco. It was not an unwelcome sensation, especially not at this moment. Harry drew himself fully into the chair, bracing his weight on his legs on either side of Draco’s hips. He gingerly cupped the side of Draco’s face, whispering a thumb over hir softened lips as he did. Energy flared and washed over them in a wave of sharp pleasure that Harry couldn't hope to describe. It wasn’t precisely sexual or sensual; it stirred to life something deeper than both and made Harry ache for the time and privacy to explore it fully with both him and Draco naked and at their ease. Instead he made do with Draco’s wordless delighted murmurs as they kissed, each touch a world of intimacy, every dip of his tongue that passed the pillowy lips overwhelming him with the need to taste more, know more of hir. Shaking with the effort to not lose himself completely, knowing his office was not the place for them to give in to the draw, he stroked gently down Draco’s torso. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down hir throat and nipped at the juncture between Draco’s neck and shoulder, growling a bit, and he tugged the banded round edge of hir collarless robe aside.

Draco did not lie passively beneath him. The triarii’s own hands were a flurry, gripping down Harry’s back, stroking over the bunched muscles of his firm arse and up again to clench in Harry’s messy dark hair. “Harry,” sie groaned, feeling a momentary pang when Harry tore his mouth away to draw a quick breath, and could almost feel the last vestiges of hir reserve give way when he again covered hir lips with his own. This man, sie knew, was who sie wanted...needed, forever.

They were far gone in their passion when the door slammed open. “Harry! You need to call off Malfoy’s dog here. The git barely let me through—” Fully registering the scene—the bunched clothing, reddened, kiss-swollen mouths, faces flushed with arousal (and embarrassment on Harry’s part), glazed grey and green eyes—Ron’s face rapidly lost all colour, leaving his freckles to stand out in stark relief. “Harry?” The strangled whine had barely passed his lips before the man in question was standing and straightening his navy robe.

Harry made sure to position himself to shield the dazed and dishevelled triarii in the chair. “What is it, Ron?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Ron ground out, the muscles in his jaw pulsing hard. “Why don’t you tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing with Ferret-face here?”

The fire’s glare on his glasses almost hid the angry glint in Harry’s eyes as he bore down on his friend. The slightly older man’s greater height and weight made little difference when Harry shoved Ron back against the closed door. “How dare you come in here and insult hir like that? I told you, Ron. I told you how I feel about Draco, and you have a nerve coming in here to show your arse anyway. What I do in my office on my time is none of your damn business.”

Harry stepped back with a deep breath. “I am not going to get into this with you here. We’re both damn lucky Kingsley didn’t insist on disciplinary reports in our personnel jackets for the incident this morning. I’m not about to test his generosity and I suggest you don’t push it either.

“Now, if you have something useful to tell me say it and get out before either of us does some damage we can’t fix.”

Ron’s lips thinned further, but he jerked his head in a curt nod. “The team’s gathered in Staging Room 3,” he bit out as evenly as he could. “The parchment analysis is done, and according to Hermione and Tonks it looks like we’re nearly ready to douse the fire under this particular cauldron...sir.”

“Fine.” Harry wrestled his annoyance into something manageable and waved the bristling ginger Auror toward the door. “Let them know I’ll be there shortly.”

Harry stood ramrod straight until the door closed (a little too firmly) behind Ron, then slumped into the strong, slender arms that had wrapped around his waist. “I take it you and Weasley got into it once already today?”

“A bit, yeah,” Harry sighed, letting more of his weight rest against the body behind him. He closed his eyes briefly, relishing the novelty of having someone to bear his weariness for a while. “Kingsley was showing John Davis’ campaign manager around and ended things before it could get too ugly.”

Resting hir face between Harry’s shoulders, Draco made a small humming sound and rubbed small circles on the Auror’s firm stomach. “Ah yes, I remember Mer. Blackforge mentioned something about taking a tour. Besides the show of Gryffindorish diplomacy courtesy of you and Weasley, how did it go?” sie asked, the thick blue cloth slightly muffling hir voice but not hir sarcasm.

“Well enough, I suppose.” Harry shrugged. He pulled himself gently from the embrace and turned in the circle of Draco’s arms. “How involved with that are you?”

The triarii shook hir head slightly, blond wisps that had come loose in their heated snogging session floating around hir face. “Not very. I’ve made some personal donations. I like John and support his vision for the Ministry.” The corners of hir mouth turned up a little. “Despite popular consensus I’ve no interest in the kind of politics my father engaged, Harry.” Hir eyes took on a knowing gleam. “The Renaissance Party is truly a separate entity from Renaissance Foundation, despite the shared name. Even if I were interested in the kinds of backroom dealings and underhanded meddling Lucius was known for, Aubrey Blackforge would prove too formidable an opponent. Sie is scrupulously honest and handles all the Party dealings with an iron fist.”

“I thought as much,” Harry answered, stepping fully from Draco’s arms. “Doesn’t hurt to ask, though.”

Draco folded hir arms over hir chest. “True.” Sie freed a hand to scratch at hir nose as Harry shuffled the poison-pen letter into a folder and gathered up parchments from his desk. “Harry.” Draco interrupted the thoughtful silence. “What we’re building between us needs more than devotion...and lust.” Sie blushed lightly with the thought of their earlier activity. “It needs trust, and with our history that will be hard won, but honesty from both of us will help with that. If you have questions, ask me. I may always have plots and schemes at work.” Sie smirked. “I am a Slytherin, after all, but I hope there will be no secrets between us.”

Harry’s hands stilled over the last of his papers. A look of intense affection and gratitude crossed his face as he smiled. “Draco—”

The other smiled in return, inclining hir head. “I know, Harry.” Sie drew a long breath as though sie needed to clear the soppiness away. “Now gather your things and run along to your meeting. Thomas will see me safely home.” A small sigh signalled the return of the inscrutable business magnate and Harry nodded his acknowledgement. He would’ve liked to linger, stretching out the time he had with the mage and the tenderness they’d shared, but knew as well that Draco had limits. Sie was still learning to trust Harry with hir softer, more emotive side and letting down all those barriers sie’d built to protect hir vulnerabilities was something that would take time. Harry briefly squeezed hir hands as they parted, and put on his game face, ready to charge back into another long day.



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Triarii-specific Terminology:
Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam
Veru: Triarii spouse


Chapter 11 Review Responses
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the reviews!

Rakel: Thank you, and no there’s no rush, though they’ll get there eventually! Harry’s had years to work on his patience, no doubt his friends have pushed the limits of his nerves before, but Hetty certainly makes for great back-up! As for bringing Arthur in? Also a very interesting idea, don’t know though we’ll see how it goes, maybe if he starts clamouring for attention I’ll get him in there!

applesauce_N_soysauce: Here’s the more, and thank you for letting me know what you thought of the last one!

thrnbrooke: Fix delivered, love the reciprocity we have going here, coz you feed my review addiction!

Justmine25: I like Kinssgley a lot in this one too. He’s definitely one of Harry’s go-to guys! We’ll have to see about Ron and Seamus, I think a good beat-down might be in order, depends on what continues to come out of their mouths (hee hee!). Thank you!!!