Chapter Twenty-Nine
Draco wiped his hands free of grease and set the tools down in order. When he was done, he breathed in the musty, greasy smell of the mechanics shop. It seemed so long ago that he had gotten his job here, just looking to make some money and help pay to take care of his mother. And now, things had changed so much. His mother was dead, his gang had turned their backs on him, and his boyfriend was a mental mess.
"What's on your mind, kid?" Dave asked as he walked into the garage, wearing his usual greasy jumpsuit and black cap.
"What isn't on my mind?" Draco mumbled as he opened one of the many tool drawers, and pulled out a screw driver for Dave.
"Well, do you want to talk about it?"
"This is way too complicated for just a simple conversation in a mechanics garage," Draco answered.
"Nothing is too complicated to talk about in a mechanics garage," Dave said as he turned to the young man and gave him one of those penetrating stares.
"You don't understand."
"Try me."
Draco leaned back against one of the tool cabinets and crossed his arms over his chest. He focused on a grease spot on the concrete floor for a while. Dave was a great guy, he knew this, but it wasn't like they were on close terms. He wasn't even sure if Dave counted as a friend or not. How could he possibly understand everything that was happening?
"Well…" Draco trailed off, not really sure what to say or how to begin. How do you begin the story of your life?
"Go on, you got nothin' to be afraid of here," Dave encouraged.
Was that true? Did he really have nothing to be afraid of? Then how come an intense fear was filling his heart and mind every second he stood there? What would Dave really think? Think of the mess, all of the problems, the fact that he was gay and had a boyfriend?
'Here goes nothing,' he thought before taking a big breath and releasing it.
"I'm gay," was the first thing he blurted out. He wasn't sure exactly why that was the first thing he said; he figured it was the one thing he was most afraid Dave would reject him for.
"I suppose that would explain a lot," was Dave's reply. Draco looked at him oddly.
"What do you mean?"
"You never expressed in any interest in the gorgeous women who come to get their cars checked out. That and you've never talked about a girlfriend. For awhile there I was just thinking you had no sexuality whatsoever."
"It's kind of new to me as well," Draco said. Dave laughed.
"If that's what's been bothering you, then you've got nothing to worry about here."
"There are…other things, as well."
"Go on, shoot."
Draco cocked his eyebrow at him.
"Okay…well ever since my mother's death, life has seemingly taken a downhill turn."
"It does seem like that for awhile," Dave nodded, waving his hand for Draco to continue.
"Just recently, my…uh, boyfriend…" Draco couldn't get over the strangeness of calling Harry his boyfriend. It was what he was, but that didn't make it any less weird to say out loud. "He's been through a very difficult ordeal and I don't know what to do about it."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, well, see he's really messed up right now and I don't know how to act about it. I'm not very good at the whole "nice" thing and I have no idea how to comfort someone."
"Well, whatever your boyfriend is going through, I'm sure it's something he definitely wants you around for as he heals."
"Yeah, I know," Draco said lowly.
"Just be there for him the best way that you can. I don't think he expects you to give long, meaningful speeches about life or anything."
"Then what does he expect?"
"I don't know – maybe just a comforting presence, the knowledge that he has people who care, a hug or a kiss every once in awhile. These things go a long way. When the time comes, he'll let you know what he wants."
"But when will that time be?"
"That's up to him; he needs to decide whether or not he wants things to be fixed or to remain broken. Just give him time, you'll see."
"I guess you're right," Draco thought as he gazed down at his shoes. "It's just so hard."
"Well who said anything about things being easy," Dave said as he rustled Draco's hair and gave a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Like I said, just give it time." With that, he walked out of the garage to go deal with a customer who had just arrived.
Draco just stood there for a few more minutes, contemplating about the conversation he had just had with Dave. The man was probably right; he seemed wise enough to know what's going on. But time wasn't always an easy thing to give in such situations. What if they didn't have time?
Bob the cat jumped up onto the counter beside him and curled around his arms. His tail brushed against his hands. He looked down at the cat, who was in turn staring up at him with his lamp-like eyes.
"What do you think, Bob?" Draco asked as he reached down and scratched the feline behind the ears. Bob the cat purred and closed his eyes, obviously enjoying the treatment. "What should I do?"
Bob looked up at him with seemingly knowledgeable eyes, but that was probably just a trick that all cats played.
"Should I give him time or should I try to force things out of him?" Bob the cat merely pawed at his hands when he stopped scratching. Draco rolled his eyes and continued to pet the cat. Typical.
"I really do care for him, you know?" Draco told the cat absently, staring off into some unknown world.
"Meow," the cat replied, purring and licking Draco's fingers affectionately. Draco took that as an agreement.
Harry walked down the school hallway, eyes focused on the floor, hand clutching his bag tightly and mind blank. People were looking at him, whispering and pointing. They had heard rumors about what had happened to him and now every time he walked by a group of people, he could practically feel their eyes on him. He could catch snippets of what they were saying on occasion.
"I heard his uncle beat him up real bad."
"Think it's true?"
"Well, look at all those cuts and bruises."
"He could've just fell off his bike or something."
"Yeah, I bet he made it all up."
He ignored them, of course. It wasn't like he actually cared what those people believed. In a way, he wanted them to believe it hadn't really happened. That way, he wouldn't get disgusted or pitying looks from everyone. He wanted them to believe that it was all just a rumor.
It was suffocating being back with everyone in his school. He hadn't been around so many people in what seemed such a long time that it was overwhelming. Hermione had watched him like a hawk the first half of the day, but he told her that it was unnecessary.
On his way to his next class, he tripped over someone's leg and went tumbling to the ground. His bag fell off his shoulder, the flap flying open and his books spilling from it. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath.
'I will not cry,' he thought, 'I just fell. It's no big deal.'
People were looking, some laughing and others whispering. He didn't expect any help from them. A couple of tears leaked from his eyes. Why did everything set him off so easily?
But to his surprise, a boney hand reached out and helped him stand up.
"Come with me, Mr. Potter," Mr. Snape said as he held onto Harry's arm. Harry looked at him with surprise, put his bag back on his shoulder and followed the tall man to his classroom.
He opened the door for Harry and allowed him in first. It was empty and cold in the room; the windows were open but since it was such a cloudy day, barely any light was getting in. Mr. Snape flipped on the lights and motioned Harry over to his desk.
"Please sit down, Potter," Snape said. Harry did as he was told, but sat tensely wondering what Snape wanted with him. It wasn't like he broken any rules that day. Before sitting down, Snape dug through a drawer to his desk and pulled something out. He set it on the top of his desk and turned to look at Harry.
"I want to show you something, Harry," Mr. Snape said before sitting down. "I believe you are aware that your mother and I were friends a very long time ago."
Harry nodded, remembering when he had discovered that photograph. He had completely forgotten about it until just now.
"Your mother was a beautiful person," Snape said as he brushed his fingers over the thing he had gotten from his desk, "Both in soul and appearance."
Harry smiled, a clear picture of his young mother appearing in his mind.
"Not a day goes by that I don't miss her terribly." Harry looked up at him with surprise and sympathy.
"How did you know that she was my mother?" Harry asked curiously.
"Well, your eyes are a dead giveaway. They are exactly as your mother's were," Snape said, looking into Harry's eyes. "But I also knew your father; we weren't on close terms, per se, but I did know him. Your resemblance is uncanny."
Harry liked that he looked so much like his father. It sort of made him feel as if he was there with him. He admitted to himself that he thought about his mum more than his dad but he missed both of them equally, even if he had never really known them.
"Your mother and I drifted apart when she started dating James," Snape said, "And soon our friendship vanished. The last time I had seen her was the day you were born."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, fidgeting. Snape had known his mother more than he, so the loss must've affected him a hundred times more. Even though Harry had never really known the man, he felt a connection form at that moment. They both shared the same pain.
"I have heard rumors about your recent troubles," Snape said, folding his hands under his chin. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Why do you want to help me?" Harry asked.
"Because I see so much of your mother in you, and whenever you look at me, it's like it's really Lily. I'm sure she'd have wanted me to help you in any way I can."
"I wish I had known her more," Harry said, "my father too."
"Well, this I might be able to help with a little," Snape said. Harry looked at him with curiosity. "It may not be much, but I believe you will like it."
Harry watched as Snape picked up the book like object from earlier and held it in his hands. "I…I want you to have this."
Harry leaned forward and took the book with his good hand. He settled back and laid it in his lap. He looked up at Snape again, question in his eyes.
"That is a photo album, one I had always kept with me. It's full of photos of your mother, and your father too, as well as a few of their friends."
With trembling hands, Harry pulled the heavy book open. His eyes widened and stung a bit as he looked down. Inside were pictures of his mother in many different poses: she was sitting on a swing, smiling at the camera or holding a lily flower while standing against the blue sky. The next page had some of his mother and Snape as children, and a few as teenagers-young adults.
Another couple of pages showed his father, who looked just like him he found, with his mother. Though there were only about five with his father in them.
When he came across a few photos with people he didn't recognize, he frowned and looked up at Snape. Snape had been watching him quietly the whole time, obviously waiting for Harry to finish.
"Who are these people?" Harry asked as he pointed at them.
"That," Snape said, indicating to man who was standing next to James and Lily, "was your father's best friend, Sirius Black."
"Where is he now?"
"Soon after your parents died, Sirius went a bit insane. He committed a few crimes and spent numerous years in prison. Not long after his release, he killed himself by jumping off a high bridge."
Harry blinked a few times and felt his heart tear apart. His parents' death obviously affected more people than he originally thought.
"What about these two people?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject. He pointed at a sandy-haired man and a smaller man in another photo. Lily had her arms around both of them as they took a group photo.
"Well, the sandy-haired fellow is Remus Lupin. I was not on close terms with him, but I heard he took a teaching job in France and lives as a recluse for the most part. I haven't heard anything else since." Harry wished he could find the man and talk to him. But he knew that it was impossible. Besides, he didn't want to dig up a haunted past.
"The other is Peter Pettigrew. I knew him as kind of the loser in the group, but still loyal in any case. He died in a train crash three years after your parents' death."
Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he tried not to imagine the horrible deaths of Sirius and Peter. Why had so much bad happened? He wished he could've known them better; they could've told him so many things about his parents.
"I know this is a lot to take in, Harry, but I wanted to give you this album so you may know the happy lives your parents lived. And know that they loved you very much." Harry nodded, eyes still closed. Tears spilled again and they splashed on his hands as they clutched the photograph album.
"Thank you so much for this," Harry said after opening his eyes. Snape got up from behind his desk and walked over to Harry. He placed a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him.
"I'm sorry I had always seemed rather cold towards you," Snape said. "I had felt if I'd distance myself from you, then maybe I wouldn't have to deal with it. But seeing so much of your mother in you has drawn me to you."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a watery smile.
"Don't thank me. I have done nothing." But Harry was thankful nonetheless.
"You better get off to your classes. I'm afraid otherwise I'd have to give you detention."
Harry chuckled and got up, album under his arm. When he looked back, he saw Snape sitting at his desk again, hands linked under his chin, staring out the window. He knew he was thinking about his mother. He hoped that Snape found peace with his mother's death. He wasn't such a bad man, after all.
Harry met Ron and Hermione outside after school. He saw them sitting on top of Ron's hood, holding hands as they talked. Harry couldn't help but wonder about this. When they saw Harry, they broke apart and smiled at him.
"How's it going, mate?" Ron asked as he hopped off the truck and helped Hermione down.
Harry just shrugged and placed his stuff in the back. Ron had offered to take him to his next appointment with his therapist since Mr. and Mrs. Granger would be busy today.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"I have to wait for Draco, he needs to come too."
And so they waited, silently. Hermione was leaning against Ron, looking a bit tired but content. Harry mostly ignored them, thinking to himself most of the time. That sick feeling in his stomach was back and he pegged it as apprehension for the upcoming appointment.
Draco finally arrived a few minutes later. He walked onto the student parking lot with his hands in his pockets and cigarette placed between his lips.
"Hey," Ron said as Draco approached. Draco looked at him and nodded before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing smoke. He tossed it to the ground and stepped on it with his foot.
"Hey," he replied.
"So, um, are we all gonna be piling in the truck together?" Hermione asked.
"Heck yeah," Ron said. "We're all in this together, right Harry?"
Harry just nodded absently, "Yeah."
It was the usual routine getting inside the car. Draco and Hermione squished into the passenger side while Harry climbed on top of them. He felt Draco's hands wrap around his waist as he settled in. He squeezed him to his chest and his hot breath was tickling his neck.
Harry was lost in the feeling of being so close to the boy he cared so much about. He felt something stirring within him but he couldn't quite place what it was.
The office was the same as it was last time. Not like Harry expected it to change or anything. The woman was the same as well, just in different clothing. She was still sitting in her chair, looking at him and analyzing his every movement. Draco was next to him again, supporting him through the whole thing. But Harry did not know what to say. He didn't want to say anything at all.
"Harry, we've talked about everything except the reason you're here. It's time to let it out."
Harry shook his head, feeling those tears again. Why was he so emotional all of a sudden? All he knew was that he wasn't ready.
"I know it hurts right now, but that pain will start easing if you just tell us something. Trust me, you'll feel better if you do."
He didn't trust her. He didn't trust himself at the moment. His heart was full to bursting with pain and his eyes were flooded with tears and his stomach was churning and bubbling with anxiety. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore.
Shaking all over, Harry looked over to Draco, who was looking at him with caring and concern. He nodded to Harry, squeezing his hand. This was his way of telling him that everything would be okay; just let it go.
And he did. He let out sob and soon he was blubbering like a lost child.
"I can't stand it anymore!" he cried out through the tears and gasps.
"Tell me, Harry; tell me so I can help you."
"He always hated me and I never knew why!" Harry wailed, all of his anguish rushing out of him like a giant wave.
"He always told me that it was my fault that my aunt died and that we lived so poorly. He said the world would be better off without me and I always believed him! It seemed so true, I believed him. Every single time." Harry covered his mouth with his hand and bent over in his chair. He was crying so hard that he thought he might actually shatter. He just cried into his hand as he felt Draco's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles there.
After a few seconds Harry took his hand away from his mouth and continued to talk. He was still bent over in order to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay.
"I was the bane of his existence," he whispered to the floor, "he never failed to remind me of this every chance he got. At first it was just hard chores; clean this, clean that, do a good job and stay unpunished. But soon, everything I did was wrong and I was punished severely."
He used his palms to wipe a few tears away and sniffed.
"The beatings, they hurt at first but later I trained myself to leave my body and they stopped hurting so much afterwards."
"How did you do that, Harry?" Ms. Simmons asked.
"I would stare at the patterns on the wallpaper and make images in my mind out of them, or make up a story about some far off place and pretend I was there. They were always places with no pain and no hate or anger. They were good places."
"A form of self-defense," Ms. Simmons regarded.
"But he always found ways to make sure I knew…I knew that I was nothing but rubbish. And those words hurt more than a hit ever could."
"Your uncle was unwell, Harry," Ms. Simmons said, "He wanted to hurt you and attacked your weak spots. You must not believe his words any longer. You must free yourself from these shackles. You have that power, that ability. Use it."
Harry began rocking back and forth, trying not to let her words in. He was conflicted. Who should he believe?
"If you don't, then he wins. He wins. That's what he wanted. He placed this last burden on you to make sure you never forgot. Don't let him have that power over you anymore."
"No, no, he wouldn't lie like that," Harry said, still rocking, "What he told was the truth. I am nothing, nothing."
"No, Harry, listen to me. Not your uncle," Ms. Simmons continued. "If you don't want to listen to me, then at least listen to your friends. They all care about you so much and they don't want you to believe his lies."
"I…I can't," Harry said.
"Yes, you can. Just look deep down inside yourself and you will find that you don't really believe what he said. You'll see that you want to be free."
Harry closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut and breathed and rocked and sobbed. He tried to look at this place the woman was speaking of. He searched through the pain, the darkness, his uncle's words, and his past. Where was it? Where?
When Harry opened his eyes, he looked at Draco.
"I can't," he said and he fell on him. He broke down into another wave of tears. Draco merely held him there as Ms. Simmons watched. When, at last, he had cried himself dry his whole body shuddered involuntarily and the pain eased somewhat. He couldn't find that place yet and his uncle's words remained.
When the session ended, Harry just wanted to be out of there. He got up and left quickly, just as he had the last time. He saw Hermione and Ron in the waiting room but he quickly brushed past them.
"Harry?" they asked him but he pushed through the door and broke into a run. They called after him, yelling for him to come back but he did not heed their calls. He wanted to be free. He could hear footsteps behind him and he knew that it was Draco running after him. Draco wasn't calling but merely pursuing. This seemed so familiar.
The tears dried in the wind and his heart was thudding against his chest, from pain and stress. When he ran, he felt as if he was running away from his problems. It's hard to think about problematic things when all you're focused on is the quick breathing and the pumping of your legs.
It was a long run but he did not care. He wanted to fly away and maybe if he ran fast enough the wind would just pick him up and carry him off.
He came to the field on the edge of the city; the one he and Draco always seemed to come to when times got rough. He ran past the church, hearing the bell tolling loudly in his ears but yet seeming so far away. The dried grass became thicker and a little bit taller the further out he ran. When he felt he could go no more, he collapsed halfway out. He was on his stomach and breathing in the scent of the dirt. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the sky. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.
He heard Draco's crunching footsteps as he approached and then stopped next to him. He was looking down at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face. Harry blinked and continued to stare at the sky.
"What can I do, Harry?" Draco asked him quietly, eyes focused on the boy lying on the ground. How could Harry answer that question?
Harry reached an arm up at Draco, his hand planted against the sky as if reaching up to grab it. But he was really looking for Draco. Draco took a step closer and grabbed Harry's hand. He bent down to his knees and placed the hand on his cheek.
"What is it that you want?" he asked softly as he nuzzled into Harry's hand.
Harry couldn't get words to form, so instead he let his hands do the talking. He caressed Draco's cheek and grabbed at his shirt and shoulders and hair. He pulled him down on top of him and brought his mouth to his. His hands scratched down his back and touched every part of him that he could. He just needed to feel someone close.
Draco placed his hands on either side of Harry's head for support and looked down at him.
"Is this what you want?" Draco asked him and Harry nodded. They kissed again, a heavy, passionate kiss that stole the breath from Harry's lungs. He fisted his hands in Draco's shirt and arched up into him.
It seemed, even without words, that Draco knew what it was that Harry was asking for. He was grateful of it because he did not want to talk. Words were meaningless in moments such as these.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut when he felt his clothes being pulled from his body. His flesh met cold air and it sent goosebumps and shivers all through him. But Draco's touches were warm and soft. And he knew that he was trembling so badly under the other, violent shaking and odd twitches. But he could not control it. When his naked body settled back against the cold earth, he opened his eyes again. He did not focus them on Draco but his attention was on the feel of him.
He knew Draco had been discarded of clothing as well when he felt naked skin against his own. They were both sweating despite the chilly wind pressing up against them. But Harry did not think about it. He did not think about how wrong this might be or how rash it was. Thinking didn't help so he just focused on his surroundings.
When Draco's fingers were inside of him, stretching him and filling him he merely looked up at the sky. The clouds rolled across it, occasionally letting the sun through. The warm rays shone down on him for a few moments before the clouds rolled in front of it again, casting a dark shadow over the world.
He gasped when the fingers were removed but a kiss was placed on his wet cheeks, calming him and shushing him. An arm wrapped around his waist again and he planted both of his feet on the ground, legs spread.
Then he was distinctly aware of something sliding into him and his toes curled and his fingers dug into the dirt. Another sob escaped his mouth and he turned his head to the side. He stared out into the distance as he felt Draco inside of him.
When the movements started, he focused his attention back onto Draco. The boy's cheeks were flushed and his breathing was hard. Harry smiled and more tears spilled from his eyes. They felt warm against his frozen cheeks and they dripped into his ears.
Harry brought an arm up over his eyes and gasped as Draco moved inside of him. It was more painful than he could've imagined but this was a pain that he didn't want to block out. It was pain out of love.
Draco was panting in his ear now, and it warmed Harry up. He brought his hands up and cupped Draco's cheeks and turned his face so they could look into each other's eyes.
Harry lifted himself up a little and kissed Draco on the lips and the cheek and bit his ear. His nails scratched down his back and his heels dug into the ground as he felt something build up inside of him. He placed his hands on Draco's biceps and squeezed them, trying to ease some of the pain and hotness that was filling him.
It was like a swirl of colors, this feeling, because every sense, every little thing sent something new inside of him. Pain, sadness, love, comfort, fear, heat, cold; everything was coming together all at once.
When he felt the release inside of him, it sent shivers up and down his spine. It was warm and wet, a completely new feeling in a new place. And at last he let his own build up flow from his body; as he did so he arched his back and sighed up into the sky above. With the sigh it was like his pain and fear came up from his body and flew away in the wind.
Draco collapsed onto him and Harry held him, his legs shaking uncontrollably and his hands still clutching tightly at the other. They were both covered in sweat and Harry kissed away some of it that had collected on Draco's forehead.
The wind was still cold, and his body was aching, and the tears were still coming but now he felt lighter. This was his special secret that only he and Draco knew about. He gazed up at the sky again. And he smiled.
Author's note: Just two more chapters to go. I hope I wrote the last scene well enough. I'm not too good with those particular types of scenes so it's likely that I botched it all up. Let me know what you think.
