Disclaimer: None of my work belongs to me, it is solely the property of the one and only J.K. Rowling and any other company which has the copyright of Harry Potter, including Warner Bros. Nothing here belongs to me; all the characters are J.K. Rowling's originally, though any new character not part of the Harry Potter series belongs to me.
Title: Always
Author: hpjkrowling4ever
Chapter Fourteen
"What do you mean, hurt?" Draco asked, his wings fluttering in agitation behind him. Harry moved to stand in front of him and took his hands. While he rubbed his thumbs soothingly over his mate's palm, he explained what the Manor had told him. As he spoke, Draco's wings started flapping furiously.
"Shh, Draco, shh." Harry murmured.
"How can you say that?" Draco wrenched his hands away from Harry's, not seeing how that hurt his mate. "You have the Dark Lord's soul in your head! You have been sheltering the Dark Lord, tethering him to life?"
This time, it was not Harry who reacted. It was the Manor. The old man conjured a staff and slammed it to the ground, sending out a wave of magic that knocked Draco violently against the door. The Malfoy Heir was lifted up off the floor and started choking as the Manor's magic held his throat. The Manor stalked towards Draco, fury written on every line of his face.
"For some reason, your genes have chosen you to be a Veela with a mate. Some Veela don't get that honour, did you know that?" the Manor asked calmly. His magic pushed Draco harder into the door. "You have hurt your mate."
That was enough for Draco. He glanced at Harry, who was standing completely frozen where Draco had left him. His magic was sparking gently across his body, but Harry was completely unreactive. Slowly, Draco was lowered to the ground. His wings beat the air gently and he walked to his mate, sorrow written on every line of his face. When he was a few inches away from his mate, he folded his wings to his back and let them disappear. He stood there as Draco Malfoy.
"Harry," he whispered. Harry's eyes snapped to his. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Of course I didn't." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." Draco looked at his hands and started fiddling with his robe. "I've got a lot to work through; I'm still Draco Malfoy, though the Veela has rubbed off some of the edges, and I'll say the wrong things when I mean different. I do mean well, and I really am sorry for what I said."
Harry's hand moved to stop Draco's fiddling. His green eyes were burning with suppressed fire and Draco's were burning with suppressed tears.
"I've trusted you as well, Malfoy." Harry murmured. He titled his head down to the ground. "And I don't know why. I've trusted my instincts; I always have. They're what have saved me for years. I don't pretend to be perfect either; now I find out that I'm anything but. I'm not an idiot, I know we've got a lot to work through –"
"–There's a reason that my instincts have chosen you, Potter," Draco said fondly, "And we can be imperfect together, after all. I was foolish to tell you that." He took a step closer and leaned his forehead against Harry's. His hands wrapped around Harry's waist gently; Harry's hands came around Draco's shoulders. Grey stared into green and a small smile tugged at Harry's mouth.
"You were worried."
"I was worried."
Behind them, the Manor smiled widely and watched as Draco and Harry kissed in the half-darkness of the room. He coughed and wanted to chuckle when they blushed furiously, remembering that he was in the room.
"Do not take your mate for granted, young Malfoy." He cautioned. "Now, why don't we get on with removing Tom from your head, boy?"
At that, Draco's wings materialised again and wrapped tightly around Harry. He growled at the Manor and his teeth elongated into fangs. Soft snickering came from inside the wings.
"Draco, let me out. I want him out of my head."
The Manor almost turned away when he saw how selfish young Draco Malfoy's face crumpled into something so soft, so tender that the Manor could barely believe that this was the same boy who had been ridiculously spoilt by his parents. Instead, he watched as Draco's wings opened slowly and beat the air behind him as Harry walked back to the Manor.
"Come, child."
Harry stopped in front of the spirit and knelt on the ground in front of him. Then the Manor touched his forehead and the contact with the pure Malfoy magic was too much for him. He screamed and blacked out.
Silence. White, blank silence. Harry had always considered silence to be the worst; it was when Uncle Vernon would be preparing himself, when he was alone in the world, in his cupboard. The ringing in his ears was the worst. He raised his head and saw a huge expanse of white in front of him, marred by a deep, black chair. He walked over to it and sat down.
"Mama loves you, Harry. Papa loves you, Harry. We love you so much. Be strong, darling boy."
Harry heard his mother's voice echo around him and he jumped off the chair and whirled around.
"Mum?" his voice echoed eerily around him and was soon absorbed by the empty white space surrounding him. "Who was that?"
Harry reached for his magic and found to his absolute horror that it was not there. There was nothing. His magic had been robbed from him. Falling to the ground with the realisation, Harry did not notice the tall shade that was advancing towards him.
"Harry James Potter."
Harry's neck snapped it moved up so fast. He held out his hands in an instinctive gesture of defense, but he soon realised that it was no use to try and fight. The shade was head and shoulders taller than him and floated eerily above the ground. Its face was masked by an ornate mask and a low black cowl.
"What are you?" Harry shuddered. "You're not Death, are you?"
"Death?" it asked. "Why would I be Death? You're still alive."
"What are you, then?" Harry took a step backwards, but the shade moved with him.
"I'm what was inside you." It chuckled. "I'm Lord Voldemort."
Nothing came out of Harry's mouth. It was impossible for him to say anything in reply to something like that.
"You're Lord Voldemort's soul?"
"Don't sound so shocked." It sounded quite carefree. "I'm part of Lord Voldemort, anyway. I was tethered by very Dark magic to your soul. It's pure, you know; the purest soul that I've ever touched."
"You don't sound like Lord Voldemort. I've met him; I'd know." Harry stopped feeling scared and started feeling curious. "And why has my magic gone?"
"You don't need magic here, Harry James Potter. This is a place where magic can't hurt you; that's why we're separate. Not just because I'm being pulled out of your body, but also because magic does so much harm that it's only right that there's some place where it can't do anything."
"This is that place, then." Harry looked around at the white. "It's so empty."
"Tom was once a good person, you know. I was once white and my mask was once silver. Years of hurt and injustice took their toll on him, you know. I tried my best, but he had to cut me in three: the diary, himself and you. Though I can't complain about the time I've been in your body. It was such a break from Tom's evil one."
"Somehow I never thought that souls had separate identities from their hosts." Harry replied. He moved to sit down on the chair. The soul kept hovering in front of him, completely expressionless but for its voice.
"We complement our hosts, but we do have a mind of our own. We are under our hosts' control, but we are still completely different. We try to embody what is the best about our person; that's why I'm grey, not black. The part of me still inside Tom is deep black. It's impossible to stay inside a host that dark without going completely dark."
"So essentially I've helped you?"
"Naturally." The soul's voice was sharp. "But now I'm being pulled away from you, I'm going to remain in this white state until Tom is killed." Its voice took on a sad tone. "I love Tom. He's incapable of loving anyone due to the fact that he was conceived under a love potion, but I love him. And I've done the best I could for him."
For a moment, Harry was convinced that the soul was crying. Its voice had broken a bit towards the end of its sentence and it had turned away. Then, in the ringing silence of this space, Harry felt something leave him. The soul became more solid in front of his eyes and turned back to face him.
"You have done your best, Harry James Potter."
"Thank you." Harry couldn't help but feel as if this was some sort of important farewell.
"Promise me one thing before you leave."
"Go ahead."
"When you face Tom for the last time, ask him for remorse. It's the least you can do as compensation for the injustice and inhuman way he was treated as a child."
"And you think that's going to do something?"
"No." It said simply.
"Then why ask?"
"Because it's the right thing to do, Harry James Potter. And you must always do what is right, even if it hurts."
Harry had nothing to say to that.
A/N: Wow, that just came out. I did not expect that in the least. I welcome any thoughts.