"If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love….to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever." Dumbledore
Harry was on his feet in an instant, all pain gone from his body. Draco Malfoy…that couldn't be possible. He'd died in the Battle.
Surprisingly, alarmingly, Ron and Lee didn't leap to their feet like the rest of the table, rushing to subdue Ben who had his arms up, who let them manhandle him. "Ron…?" Harry questioned, looking at his best friend, who sat staring at his hands. Ron hated Draco, had been on the receiving end of his insults every day of Hogwarts.
"Get away!" It wasn't Ben/Draco who shouted that, but Charlie, his wand raising high, placing himself in front of George and Kingsley, who were both attempting to restrain Ben. "I said get away from him!"
From underneath Kingsley's leg, Ben's voice drifted out, small, timid, so different from Draco Malfoy's cool, indifferent tone. "I...know….Goyle." He panted, the words a strain from his position. "I want..to…help."
"Get off, Kingsley!" Charlie was mad with rage, pushing against the older man with all his might, forgetting about wands and magic.
"Charlie, it's Draco Malfoy!" Fred cried from the table, his voice high and indignant.
"Don't you remember ---" George continued.
"What a git ---"
"Not to mention cold-blooded murderer ---"
"He was?"
"I've changed!" Ben wailed, Kingsley still above him. His face was open, imploring. "I'm different!"
"Like Hell you are!" George said, pointing his wand and uttering a curse of his own making, one that would make the victim suffer the same effects as ten pieces of Fever Fudge.
Lee sprang from his chair, knocking it over and grabbing George's arm a second too late. The curse had already fired only to be intercepted by Charlie, who threw himself in front of Ben.
From the floor, Charlie stared up at his brothers, his father, his friends, and down at Ben. His best friend. His lover. "He's changed." Charlie asserted, his eyes already glassy from fever, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "He's…he's Ben." And with the last painful assertion, Charlie reached over Kingsley's arm and kissed Draco full on the mouth.
Harry and the others stared, dumbfounded. There was nothing, nothing anyone could do now. No one would be willing to take Draco into custody, hand him over to the Dementors, hold a trial, if it meant that they'd be ripping him from someone who loved him.
No one, in the entire history of the Wizarding world, had ever been able to resist a Weasley's plea.
"Charlie?" Arthur asked, kneeling next to his son, whose skin was cold and clammy even as he sweated. "Are you certain that he is not a threat?" He asked, not only for the safety of the Wizarding World, but for the safety of his unmarried son, who had just told a room full of some of the most influential Wizards in the country that he was in love with one of the most hated fugitives in the country.
Nodding, Charlie grabbed for Ben's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Sorry for that, Benny." Charlie whispered, his voice ragged. He had never kissed the bartender before. He had never even discussed a relationship with the other man.
But, impossibly, wonderfully, the hand under his squeezed back, a warm light on the darkest day, and even after a death, after seeing another man slip into a coma, after hearing a friend's account of Death Eaters still in their midst, Charlie Weasley was happy. "I…I love you, Charlie." Ben whispered, and Kingsley got off of the boys.
No Death Eater was capable of something as human, as raw and vulnerable, as true love.
Charlie, still shacking in the throes of the curse, hauled Ben to his feet, staring at the boy incredulously. In a few seconds, Ben had managed to sustain two black eyes and a broken nose. "Wow." He coughed, then looked over at George. It seemed as if his brother couldn't speak, or wouldn't, then, meeting Charlie's eyes, he blushed, abashed.
"Fred?" He prompted the portrait, nudging it, making the occupant inside's own slack-jaw come together. The small man muttered to himself, then, withdrawing a wand, murmured the counter-spell to the Fever Curse.
A hand descended on Charlie's shoulder just as he breathed a sigh of relief, the tension of the fever abating. He looked up into the face of his favorite brother. Bill's heavily scarred visage was further twisted by worry, "Charlie…" he murmured, glancing between the dragon keeper and the bartender. Charlie nodded, and Bill wrapped him in a one-armed hug.
"Take care of yourself, bro." Bill said, and Charlie knew that he wasn't talking about the next day or year, when they would be, once again, thrown head-first into a dark insurrection. No, his only older brother was thinking ahead, to a future where the "open-minded" Wizarding World shunned those who were different. Lupin and Bill had experienced it as werewolves, or parts of one.
Even the enlightened Wizarding World frowned on homosexuality, even if love was supposed to conquer all. If Charlie stayed on this path, his life would be turbulent, uncertain. But he smiled at Bill and hugged him back, recognizing this as a blessing.
Ben looked at Harry, his eyes wide, his dark complexion suddenly pale. "Harry…let me help." He cleared his throat, looked away, "Please."
In uncertain times, people found themselves doing things they would never do otherwise. For over five years Harry had thought the worst evil was gone from the world, but just that day he'd led another man to his death. "Yeah, sure." He turned hard, whirling to Ben, "If you do anything." He warned, thinking of Charlie, of the Weasleys, of the Wizarding world.
Ben smirked, looking something like the old Malfoy. "I've been mixing your drinks for five years, Potter. If I'd wanted to off you, poison would have been easy." Realizing his words, he shot a look at Ron. "Sorry." He apologized, and Ron shrugged, remembering sixth year, six years ago. They had been very young then. He himself had changed so much, and Draco had changed even more.
It was the twins who took the longest, who kept their wands pinned on Ben even after Charlie had sat next to him. But even they could tell that the second-eldest was smitten.
"Goyle is strategic but not very fast." Draco attested, getting down to business. "If you let him sit he will accumulate forces behind him, but if you strike soon --- tomorrow --- he won't be ready."
"They'll have left the old Marvolo house," Bill pointed out.
"The Goyle's own a lot of land near the Southern moors. I would check there first. If you gave me descriptions of the other Death Eaters I could probably point out other locations, but the Goyle's is probably the place." He thought for a second. "You should probably check out the Zambini's too. Blaize was always hanging around us in school."
"Anywhere else?" Percy was scribbling on a piece of paper, Hermes perched on his shoulder. "Where should this go, Kingsley? The Auror department?"
"Yes." Kingsley's voice was measured, slow. "And if time is off the essence we should be there by dawn. Harry, can you be there?"
Harry thought of Seamus, unconscious, possibly out of his mind, in the back room downstairs, of Hannah and Perseus and Justin's face as he died, and nodded. "I'll be there." He glanced around at the table, then at Kingsley. "Looks like we need all the help we can get."
"I was thinking the same thing." Kingsley murmured. "The Auror department really is too small to tackle this new insurrection on its own."
George smiled happily, clapping hand down on Ron's shoulder. "Think we can convince the girls to stay out of this?"
"Not a chance." Ron replied, thinking of Hermione, how she invented spells in the heat of battle, charms that could save a hundred people. He turned to Harry, "I'm with you mate."
Draco chimed in, "Me too." Charlie seconded him, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Percy proclaimed that he never was good at fighting, but he would stay with Fred in the shop and they would take in casualties. He was already writing to Madame Pomfrey to see if she could make herself available.
Arthur was the embassy to the girls, putting in the stipulation that Ginny and Angelina couldn't fight, that they were living for two, after all, but Luna, Hermione, Fleur, and Molly were ready to go.
"I can't believe it's come back to this." Ron muttered. He and Harry were in a corner of the attic, watching George argue with Lee. The black boy wanted to fight but George insisted he stay behind, since he would be relaying any messages one squad had to another.
Harry nodded, "I thought all this stuff was done after Voldemort." He fidgeted, "I hate waiting. I hate not knowing what's going to happen."
Ron nodded, looking at Percy's growing list of people to contact, people willing to fight, to die, people they'd grown up with. "It'll be okay." Ron assured the scarred boy, even though he had no way of knowing, even though in the end all Hell might break loose.
Next chapter is Seamus and Dean, then the battle, then more Ring, we just love writing this story.
Review?