Author's Note: I am sorry for the delay; I know I said I would be better at updating on a more regular basis. I was doing really well, until I got sick. I've had what feels like a combination of strep throat, broncitis, and allergies for the last week and a half. So, without farther adou, here is the next chapter.
Chapter 10: Truth Comes to Light
Parseltongue
~Draco~
The stag leads me to a place deep within the forest. A place I have been before. This is the deepest, darkest, place in the forest, perhaps the whole estate. Death has infected this area so much; the darkness is physical, almost like a fog, permeating the very air. That is why the acromantulas were here. That is the thing with dark creatures: they are attracted to darkness and like to create more. Something bad, something horrific must have here to attract the spiders.
However, I know of something horrible that happened after the acromantulas inhabited this place. This is where Harry's parents were killed, after being dragged from the cottage. This is where I found their remains, and buried what was left. Then I had a monument built to preserve the memory of them.
That was three years ago. I was exploring, because the beast tamer at the time was useless. He had said he saw the acromantulas moving toward a small valley in the forest. He was terrified of them, wanting to leave them alone, but I needed to find their old nest. So I followed the trail left behind back to the origin.
As I looked around the nest, the darkness tried to choke me, blind me. I pulled on the abilities that my father drilled into my head, the ability to shield my aura from darkness. After the darkness lost its effect on me, I could see the surroundings better. Besides the webs that stretched over everything, there were lots of piles of bones.
Most looked like animal bones, except for some in an alcove under a fallen tree. Those were definitely human bones. A horrible sense of foreboding came over me. There were two people I knew of that were killed by the acromantulas, and there were enough bones in that pile for two full-grown adults. Something glinted in the light that filtered through the canopy. I stepped comer to investigate.
When I see the metal on the bones, I lost all hope that these bones did not belong to the people I knew. The metal was two rings, one on the ring finger of the left hands; I recognized those rings. They were very identifiable because of how unique they were. The first thing unique was that the stones were emeralds, instead of the standard diamonds. The second was the designs. The woman's ring was a lily with the stem becoming the band, all of white gold and emerald stones*. The man's ring matched the woman's, with coordinating design, metal, and stones**. Those were the rings of James and Lily Potter, the people I thought of as my second set of parents.
I fell to my knees and let my grief out. I cried for them; they were too good of people to be killed like that. After what felt like hours, when my tears had dried up, I dug a hole in the middle of the nest, levitated their bones into it, and then covered the bones with the dirt. I kept the rings, safe in a lacquered box. When I got back to the manor, I commissioned a statue, styled after the door knocker on the cottage, to mark their grave.
As I dismount from my horse, I look to the statue. There I see James' kneeling form, arms wrapped around himself, his torso shaking as if sobbing. This puzzles me. I do not understand why he would have this reaction. James knows nothing of the Potters, except for the memories I shared; any person would feel saddened by the monument, but not enough to warrant such a violent response.
I walk over to him and lay my hand on his shoulder. It trembles under my hand. I put my other on the opposite shoulder, trying to massage the tension out of them. It does not help. "James?" I ask uncertainly.
He looks up at me, his eyes swimming with deep, heart-wrenching grief. That look smashes my resolve, and I drop to my knees as well, pulling him towards me. He buries his face in the crease between my neck and shoulder. Soon, the fabric there is soaked with his tears. I nub my hands up and down his back, offering comfort and support.
However, I am still very confused as to why this comfort is needed. The grief in James' eyes is similar to that of a child losing a parent. My mind is whirling, trying to make sense of the situation. Images start to pop in my head, memories long forgotten and over looked. A boy with inky black hair facing away from me, a man walking in front of me with hair as black as night. The stag and lily on the door of the cottage, the stag and lily tattooed in the heart on the muscular chest. The impish grin on the tanned face of child, the lecherous smile on the face of man with a five o'clock shadow. Emerald eyes filled with mischief, emerald eyes filled with determination.
My mind reels as image after image, memory after memory, are brought forth and compared. "James?" I say in a broken whisper, as more and more parallels are drawn between the two people. I feel him shake his head. With this denial, my heart freezes as though it is standing on a cliff overlooking an abyss. There is another name, but I have to force it out of my throat. "Harry?"
With the nod of his head, my heart seems to throw itself off the imagined cliff. With the nod of his head, my world comes crumbling down.
~Harry~
I know my secret is doomed the second Draco whispers 'James' so brokenly. I shake my head, because there is no hope for a lie told in this condition. When he forces out my real name, I try to steady myself as I nod my head. From this position, I can feel how he changes: how his hands stop, how his pulse slows, how his body turns rigid, how his breath is suspended.
The hands around me drop. I should take that as a signal to move away, but I am a coward and want to cling to his warmth for a little longer. However, when the hands go to my shoulders and push, I do not resist. Draco pushes me back until there is a good amount of distance between us. At first, I look down at my knees, too afraid to look into his eyes. But as the silence stretches on, I lift my glaze to face the product of my deceit.
His eyes burn with an icy fury. It seems to freeze me to my very core. But behind the fury, I can discern betrayal and hurt. The mask is on, leaving a face blank of expression on his face. It has been a few months since he has felt it necessary for the mask to be used. It breaks my heart to know that I caused it to return.
I lift up my hand to touch his cheek. "Draco," I breathe, "I am so –" My words break off as he slaps my hand away, launching himself up and out of my reach. He stops with his back turned to me, five feet from me. "Please, Draco," I try again, "Just let me expl-" I am cut off again.
"Get out," he says, barely above a whisper. I sit quietly, uncomprehending. "Leave." He turns to face me. "Get the bloody hell off my property, you son of a bitch!"
His wand is out now, pointing straight at my chest. I feel fresh tears running down my face. I nod and somehow manage to apparate from my seated position, a good thing since I am pretty sure my legs would not support my weight. I find myself on the floor of my room. I stay there for a minute or so, just letting everything sink in.
Draco knows. I have hurt him. Draco wants me gone. I need to leave, to pack. With that, I drag my trunk out from under the bed. Then I just start magically throwing everything in it. There is no order to it; things just go in how ever they please. In just a few moments, everything is packed away.
Frost! I call out, looking for her. Where are you? We need to leave, now.
I'm coming, answers a disembodied voice. Frost soon rounds the corner into the room. I hold out my hand for her to climb. She settles around my neck. Why, pray tell, are we leaving in such a rapid mannor?
I try to ignore her question, but I cannot when she starts tickling my neck with her tongue. Oh alright, Draco knows. He knows I am Harry, and wants me gone.
Oh, is her only answer.
With that, I apparate to the first place that comes to mind.
~Draco~
"How dare he!" I yell as I storm through the manor, furiously wiping the tears away. I need to get to the north wing. I need to be somewhere I can destroy things. I need to bury my hurt in destruction. "How dare he have the audacity to pretend to be someone else, to lie to me! Did he think I wouldn't care about him? Merlin, he was my best friend, my only best friend. How could I not care about him? And why did he never write to me? Was I not as important to him as he was to me? Did I not deserve at least some explanation? Something after all these years?"
By now, I am in the north wing. I just start blasting things, indiscriminately firing spell after spell. I lose myself in the cathartic violence of it all. By the time I have worked all my energy off, it is night and most of the first floor of the wing is destroyed. I breathe in, gathering my thoughts. I walk back towards the south wing, my wing. I leave the damage behind; the elves will fix it, just like they always do.
I collapse onto my bed, staring at the canopy. I wonder what I should do. My mind wants me to push thoughts of James (now Harry) away and move one. However, my heart rebels against that and wants me to go find him. It wants to face him, demand answers if necessary, and then never let him go again. It argues that I should not let him leave again, just when I got him back. I am torn between following my heart and listening to my common sense.
Finally, I decide to go with my heart. Normally, my heart does not have opinions, because it is always hiding from the world. But now that it does, I know that I should listen to it.
So I apparate to the porch of the cottage. I can guess he is not here, because I basically banished him this morning. But I can hope that he will still be here, giving me time to come stop him from leaving. Those hopes start to crumble when I find the door unlocked. As I step inside, my heart squeezes. There is no sign of James/Harry anywhere: the pile of shoes is not there, the quilt is gone, the firebolt is missing. When I enter his room, I fall to my knees, all my hope evaporating. Everything is bare, empty, like there was never someone there. No quilt on the bed, no clothes in the closet, no toiletries in the bathroom. He is gone; the man I love is no longer here.
I tilt my head back as the tears start again. "Now what should I do?"
~Harry~
I land in a field of tall grass. Off to the side, I can see a large house. I make my way towards it. On the way, I can to gather my thoughts, try to figure out how to explain what I did. It seems like such a lost cause. I have no idea how to explain. I just want comfort. I apparated to the only place I knew I would find it, where I would be given it unconditionally.
I climb the stairs, and wait for a minute at the door. It still has the mural of a moon*** on it that I helped paint as a child. Hesitantly, I raise my hand to the knocker. With a last boost of courage, I knock on the door. For a few minutes, there is no movement behind the door, but then it opens. Standing in the doorway is a middle aged man, his mousy brown hair heavily streaked with gray, deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. The man tilts his head to the side, whispering "Harry?"
I nod, tears starting to fall down my cheeks. "Moony, I made a horrible mistake." Then I rush to close the distance between us, receiving the comfort I desperately needed, from the arms of my adoptive father. He pulls me inside, shutting the world out as he closes the door after us. I continue to cling to him, crying on his shoulder.
He runs one hand through my hair while the other rubs circles on my back. He kisses the top of my head, making soft, comforting noises all the while. After a final kiss to my hair, he pulls away far enough to look into my eyes. "Now," he says, "tell me what happened."
And I do, down to the every last detail.
*Lily's ring (with emeralds instead of diamonds): www. designfinejewelry wp-content/ uploads/ 2012/ 07/ Silver- Calla- Lily- Diamond- Ring. jpg (remove the spaces)
**James' ring (again, with emeralds): weddingseason wp- content/ uploads/ 2012/ 06/ wedding- ring- for- men. jpg (remove the spaces)
***Moon mural: i6. photobucket albums/ y250/ PhotozOnline/ MoonMural. Jpg (remove the spaces)
Author's Note (again): there is still a poll on my profile about how I should end this story. Please vote because I cannot decide between which ending I want to publish. Thank you!
