Princes in Exile

This chapter was written by literaryspell.

As he had every day for the past three days, Harry stared at the owl letter from Draco demanding his presence at the manor.

He still couldn’t believe it, but no amount of disbelief could make the situation go away. How he'd managed to become trapped—no, entrapped—in this bloody mess was beyond his understanding.

The scariest part of it all—well, second scariest, next to being kidnapped and forced to teach Draco Malfoy wandless magic against his will—was that Robards had actually sanctioned Draco's demand. Harry had been forced, tail tucked, to ask for a week off, and of course Robards hadn't let him off easy, knowing that Harry had never taken a vacation in all his time as an Auror. When Harry had eventually let the truth out, Robards had laughed. Laughed!

Then he'd said that because Harry had been the only one showing any sort of interest in Draco since his return, Draco was his responsibility. Adding to that, legally, Draco did have a leg to stand on, according to Neville, who looked entirely unsympathetic towards Harry's plight. Harry had stolen Draco's wand. That was, in wizarding law, illegal. So now he was making amends.

Damn Draco! Harry's job was important; he couldn’t just blow it off to play houseguest to the Malfoys in their twisted time warp of a manor while teaching Draco something that came naturally to Harry.

As Harry really didn’t have to the first clue as to how to teach a person wandless magic, he spent those three days until he was due at the manor studying. He hadn't cracked a book since he'd left Hogwarts, except for the occasional detective thriller or sci-fi novel that Hermione insisted on giving him on his birthdays. Now he was being forced to study like an errant first year who hadn't known there would be a test on the first day of school. It was ridiculous.

There was lots of information on wandless magic, so Harry was able to get the gist of it quickly enough. It was all about focus, mental stamina, and determination. Harry didn’t really have any of those things, but somehow he was able to use wandless magic. He didn’t like it; it wasn’t reliable and his wands—no, his wand, damn Draco again—did the trick just fine. Without a focusing agent, he felt like he was flying blind.

The book he spent the most time reading was one Hermione had found for him. It was a teacher's guide on wandless magic, meaning it gave information on how to teach someone else the ability rather than have a person learn it themselves. Why Draco had never bother trying to figure it out in the seven years he'd been gone, Harry couldn’t begin to guess. But he suspected it was something along the lines of: Draco was lazy and spoilt and why do himself what he could get other people to for him, people who needed their jobs for a living but also to help others.

Only Ron had given Harry any sort of sympathy. He'd come over for a pint before Harry was due to leave. His bags were packed, his fate decided.

"If you don't hear from me, at least come find my body," he'd said. "I don't want Draco messing around with it for potions ingredients or anything."

Ron had agreed, probably without realising that Harry was dead serious.

When it was time to leave, he'd given his friend a brief hug and told him he'd owl in the evenings so they knew he was okay. Ron even offered to go in his stead, but it was an empty kindness because they both knew Ron was even less adept at wandless magic than Draco Malfoy apparently was.

Harry Apparated to the gates of the manor and paused. He could just… not go. The idea had been running through his mind for days. Ever since the first letter from Draco had arrived, stating that Draco was going to allow Harry to teach him the most complicated method magic known to wizards. He didn’t owe Draco anything. Sure, he'd… borrowed his wand. He was sure no one begrudged him that—he'd killed Voldemort with it, after all. No, that couldn’t be held against him. And yes, he'd used the wand without really giving thought to its owner for seven years. Yes, Draco's magical reaction to having his wand taken was unusual and meant that Draco could not use any wand, including his own. That wasn’t Harry's fault. That was just… crap luck. It happened. Harry'd seen his fair share of it. No one was scrambling to make up for his horrible years with the Dursleys, and he certainly wasn’t demanding that someone else come in and make it all better.

He wasn’t like Draco. He could solve his own damn problems.

Which was why he was here. He wasn’t like Draco. He was going to do the right thing just because it was the right thing. He wouldn’t get anything from teaching Draco—or trying to teach him, because Merlin knew Draco was a pain in the arse and promised to make Harry's life very painful for the next week with no promise that he could actually do wandless magic at all—and he certainly wasn’t going to enjoy it.

He would just do the best he could and then leave, guilt-free. If Draco couldn’t manage to learn it, that was no skin off Harry's back. It wasn’t his responsibility to make sure Draco could do wandless magic—no, his job was simply to teach what he knew and go on his merry way.

With that decided, Harry approached the manor. Every time he visited, a bit of its former splendour was repaired. It still looked depreciated and rather unimpressive, but it was no longer sinking into despair.

Harry knocked on the door and almost immediately a small house-elf opened it wide, staring up at him with wide—wider than usual—eyes. "Yes?" she said in a high-pitched squeak. He deduced that she was female only because there was a bow made of frayed ribbon tied around one of her ears.

"I'm Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy is expecting me." Of course Draco wouldn’t open the door himself, that was too plebeian. Still, he hadn't seen the house-elf the last time he'd been at the manor. He supposed that meant he wouldn’t see Draco elbow-deep in dishwater this time. For some reason, the thought disappointed him.

"Oh, of course! Young Master Draco is, indeed, expecting Harry Potter. Please be following Peachy, now!" Peachy turned and led Harry one of the many parlours he knew the manor boasted.

Draco was sitting on a settee, a tea service in front of him and a delicate and ancient-looking book in his hands. He looked up when Harry entered, nodding at Peachy to dismiss her. She left, and Harry took a seat in an armchair as far away from Draco as was possible without sitting on the floor.

"So." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t plan on making this easy on Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Listen, Potter, I don't like this any more than you do. I need to learn wandless magic and you need to teach it to me. It will be awkward and boring and I'm sure boorish. But it must be done."

Harry sighed. Loath as he was to admit it, Draco was right. He was here, he had already made up his mind to do it, so he might as well just get it over with as easily as possible. "Fine. If we're going to be civil, you can start by using my first name and permitting me use of yours."

"You already use my first name," Draco said, looking unimpressed.

"That's right, I do, Draco. So go ahead and stop glaring every time I say it or my feelings will be hurt. And call me Harry. You have a lot of nerve, demanding my assistance, and don't think I won't make demands in return. I know how much you need this. I would say that puts me in the position of power, wouldn’t you?"

Draco glared until Harry lifted an eyebrow. He sighed and said, "Fine, Potter. How do you plan to go about this? Do you have any sort of schedule in mind or are you just going… wing it?"

"I have a bit of a schedule worked out," Harry said, noting that Draco had again refused to use his first name. The books had all said not to try wandless magic right away. It was easy to get discouraged and discouragement meant less confidence, which in turn meant a greater unlikelihood that it wouldn’t work.

"May I see it?"

"Oh. I don't have it written out or anything," Harry admitted.

"So we're trusting my success on your ability to recall things at will?"

"I suppose we are. Why, do you have a problem with that?"

Draco shifted, looking very much like he did and like he would rather do nothing more than tell Harry just that, in fine, pointed detail. Instead, he said, "If you wouldn’t mind writing out just the barest of schedules so I can adjust my own accordingly, it would be much appreciated."

Draco said much appreciated like he meant I'll kill you if you don't.

Harry just sighed again and opened his pack. If the forty minutes he'd spent at the manor felt like four weeks, he wasn’t sure he could make it. Ron and Neville might be searching for his body yet.

*

After writing out the schedule, which was very bare and not just because Draco had asked for it to be, but because Harry really didn’t have any more detail to offer, he had Draco tell him about his experiences with wandless magic including Occlumency and Legilimency.

Draco had a basic capability for Occlumency. Harry was able to get into his thoughts, but it took a few minutes of force from his side. He had no aptitude for Legilimency, even when Harry stopped Occluding. The positive side of that experiment was that Draco still had magic. Harry had felt him probing, even if he hadn't been able to penetrate.

The downside was that Draco was going to have to spend the rest of the day meditating and working on his focus. Harry learned very quickly that it didn’t take much for Draco to become frustrated when he couldn’t do something right. He seemed to believe that he should have an innate ability to master anything on the first try, and when he wasn’t able to, he became irritable and almost unbearable to be around.

Despite that, they sloughed through a few hours of mind training until Draco claimed he was exhausted.

"Let me show you to your room," Draco said, sound more congenial now that Harry wasn’t badgering him to focus, pay attention, clear his mind.

Harry reminded himself of Snape, and the idea made him both cringe and smile. He had no idea if training Draco was going to work at all. Snape would have been able to do it—in fact, he would have laughed at Harry's attempts at teaching. So would Draco. The two would have a jolly time taking him down a notch but at least the responsibility wouldn’t be Harry's.

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing his overnight bags. He could use a shower before dinner. Which reminded him… "You will be feeding me, won't you?"

Draco tossed an incredulous look over his shoulder as he led Harry up the massive marble staircase. "What kind of host would I be if I didn’t?"

Harry hoped Draco didn’t want an answer to that, because he was sure it wouldn’t be appreciated. If being a host included keeping someone pretty much against their will, Draco had it down pat.

Harry's room was almost as large as his entire flat. There was an enjoining bathroom, a massive closet, and a huge canopy bed that he would feel utterly ridiculous sleeping in.

He put his bag on the bed and turned to thank Draco, but the prickly bastard had already left. Harry sighed and wondered if it would always be like that. He didn’t expect—or want, really—Draco to let him into his life, but since he'd been the one to invite Harry in, the least he could do was be civil.

Not bothering to put his things away in the bureau, Harry organised the books Hermione had given him while thinking on how he could help Draco learn wandless magic. There was no sure way to learn it and not everyone even could.

It had to have been a few hours later when Peachy the house-elf popped up, startling Harry into tossing his quill into the air. He watched it fall onto the expensive-looking carpet with an impressive splash of black ink. Both Harry and the elf looked at each other with wide eyes. He watched as Peachy tried to work her elf magic on it, but the ink was Harry's own invention—utterly inerasable from any surface.

He cleared his throat when it became obvious that Peachy was ready to tear out her sparse hair. She stepped back and he placed a wastebasket over the spot.

"I won't tell if you won't," he said.

Peachy nodded solemnly. "Master Draco says dinner is served and please to not be late."

"Thank you," Harry said. He stood and followed the house-elf—his new partner in crime—down to the dining room. An ostentatiously long dinner table was set up with dishes at the head and foot. He and Draco wouldn’t even be able to talk at that distance.

As Draco was nowhere to be seen, Harry moved his dishes down to Draco's end, seating himself at the right. Then he didn’t like how that put him in the position of second to Draco's first, so he moved Draco's plate setting as well, across from Harry's spot. Perfect.

When Draco entered, he stopped dead and took in the new arrangements. Harry sat back in his chair, pleased with himself. To his surprise, Draco didn’t fight the set-up. He sat down and called for the first course.

Peachy popped in with two loaded trays. She looked confused for the longest time, staring from Draco's old seat at the head to his new one across from Harry. Finally, she put the dishes down, looking confused almost to tears.

"They don't like change much, do they?" Harry said, chuckling.

"Hmm."

"So I take it your parents aren't coming? There were only two settings."

Draco looked up. "My father has business to take care of."

"Ah." Harry poked at the meat on his plate with the slender tines of his fork. It looked like lamb. He thought. "And your mother?" Harry waited for Draco to finish chewing his food, but even after he watched that Adam's apple bob, Draco didn’t speak. "Draco?"

"My mother passed." His tone was cool but there was underlying pain, clear as day to Harry, who had had to bluff his way through the pain of losing loved ones himself.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said honestly. She had saved his life, after all. More than for her, though, he felt for Draco. Losing a parent was never easy, and Harry hadn't even known his. Draco had to be devastated. Even though it was horrible, it did cheer him slightly—maybe Draco's cruelty and coldness was just a front for the pain he was feeling. Maybe he wasn’t completely beyond hope after all.

Draco nodded and continued to eat. Peachy came in and filled their glasses with wine. Harry couldn’t help but feel grateful. Working with Draco was going to tax him and he could use a drink.

However, as he drank, he felt Draco's eyes on him. The harsh words were all too easily recalled, and Harry sat his glass down. Then he felt foolish for letting the snark of Draco Malfoy get to him and he drank some more. Eventually he had no idea what he was proving and to whom, so he just ate instead. When Peachy came back to pour more, he asked for water instead.

"Clever thinking, Potter, as you're going to need your wits about you when you attempt to teach me wandless magic."

Harry sighed. "Listen, you can put aside the bullshit right now. I'm not working for you, okay? You don't pay my salary and you can't boss me around. I'm working with you. And if you don't like it, I can find the door on my own."

Draco raised his hands in mock supplication. "I meant no offense. Merely commenting on what seems to be a habit for you."

"Okay. That's it for tonight. Here's your lesson, okay? Ready? Let it go. Your mind and your magical spirit have to be free and without emotional weight. Because instead of the wand, your mind is the focusing agent. If you're carrying around hate and spite and anger, your magic, if it comes at all, will be sporadic and violent. Work on that tonight. I'm going to bed. We'll start at eight o'clock in the morning, and you'd better be light as a fucking feather, got it?"

Draco sat back, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Why, Potter. I had no idea you could be so forceful. Must be the Auror in you coming out. But then I do have some experience facing brutality at your hands."

Harry stood, exasperated, and walked around to Draco's side of the table. "Belt up, Draco, or my hands won't be the only thing I'll brutalise you with." He stared into Draco's surprised grey eyes before he strode from the room.

*

"Okay. So just close your eyes. Seriously, Draco, I can see that they're open a crack. Why aren’t you taking this seriously?"

Draco sighed. "I'm not comfortable closing my eyes around you. Who knows what you'll do when my guard is down."

"Without a wand, your guard is always down. I could immobilise you in seconds. I could Stun you and rob you blind and if you wanted your stuff back, there wouldn’t be a damned thing you could do to me to get it."

Draco glared, but he shut his eyes.

"Now, focus on the table in front of you. You don't need to see it; you know it's there. Reach out with your senses. Imagine it in your mind. Can you see it?"

"Yes," Draco said in a quiet voice. His blond brows were furrowed and he seemed to be concentrating very hard.

"Do you see the quill on the desk? The long peacock feather quill with the ink stain all up the side?"

"Yes."

"Good. I don't want you to move it. Don't even try. Just get to know it. Feel with your mind how light it is, how soft. Imagine you are writing with it. Imagine you're brushing it over your lips as you pause in thought. Imagine you're tickling a lover with it, brushing it over their—"

The quill moved, like the softest of breezes has kissed it.

Harry smiled, relieved. Draco could do it after all.

"Okay, Draco. You did great. I think that's enough this time."

Draco's eyes flew open. "What? We only just started! I swear, I felt something that time, like my… mind was touching it."

"We haven't just started. We've been at this for at least three hours and I'm starving. Your mind needs to rest. You must have done really well with clearing your angry thoughts like I told you last night."

"Yes, who knew your Muggle New Age rubbish would actually help." But Draco looked pleased with himself, even though he hadn't seen his own progress.

"Well, make sure you keep it up. It's really important. And it will help, I promise."

"So what do you plan on doing for the rest of the day?" Draco asked, standing and stretching.

Harry's eyes caught the tiniest sliver of his pale midriff as his arms went over his head. There was a thin, white-blond trail of hair that disappeared into his tailored slacks. "Oh, right. Er, I'll be reading. And planning the next lesson. I want to meet again today. How about just before dinner? And then we can do another hour or so before bed."

"Full schedule," Draco said. He nodded. "I'm going to have a nap. I feel exhausted."

"Good idea. You need to listen to your body's signals. It knows what's best, and having a happy body will make your mind more open to the magic."

For some reason, Draco's cheeks pinked. Harry waved and left the room. He wondered if Draco was retiring to his room to do what Harry had in mind: indulge in a leisurely wank.