UPDATED Author's Note:
Hello! To those who did not see this chapter when it was first posted at the beginning of May, here you are! Not sure if "better late than never" works after two years, but here are the answers you have all been asking for all along.
To those who did read this chapter before, I highly recommend you read it again. I received a couple reviews saying that it felt rushed, and you're absolutely right. I wasn't sure how long I would be on this latest writing kick what with finals and all, and was more interested in just getting the story out there instead of getting it out well. Now that it's there I am going back through and filling in the gaps, fixing the typos and generally just making it WAY BETTER. If you're wondering why I'm updating this instead of working on the epilogue, my manager (aka my fiance) has suggested I wait until after finals to post it, which I think is probably a good idea on all fronts. So, here is this update, I'm going to fix the final chapter, and then you can expect the epilogue by the end of May. Thank you, and happy reading!
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Harry woke to pain. Not the type of pain when you've broken an arm or sprained an ankle, or even the kind after a particularly hard Quidditch match, though that came closest.
No one particular place hurt; a blinding, all encompassing agony filled Harry which seemed to glow in varying shades of white and red depending on the given injury. Harry's stomach, for example, felt deep, aching red, while his shattered wrist felt white. The corresponding hand, however, merely felt dead.
"Harry... Harry, please... wake up."
Harry's heart stuttered in his chest, and for a moment he imagined the voice might be his own, somehow calling his spirit back to his body.
"Harry…"
No, he decided through the haze in his brain, the voice was not his own, and though the link between them still gaped empty and silent, like a dark chasm in Harry's chest, the scent tickling his nose and the hands gently brushing his face left Harry with little doubt to whom the voice belonged. Despite his efforts, Harry found his eyes were slow to open and even slower to focus, but at last he was able to make out Draco kneeling above him bruised and beaten, his silky hair caked so thick with blood it practically stood on end. One eye was swollen shut, and a deep gash along his cheek was still bleeding freely.
"Harry!"
Draco's expression twisted horribly as Harry squinted through the remains of his glasses, and it took him a long moment to recognize the lines and creases on Draco's face as signs of relief. That look made Harry want nothing more than to pull Draco into a hug, but as he tried Harry found he was pinned to the floor by unseen restraints, his feeble attempts failing at anything beyond inciting even more debilitating pain. Harry groaned, but tried to breathe, tried to focus.
"Draco…. Are you ok? Can you move? Where are we?"
Harry's eyes scanned the room hastily, noticing no more than the grey walls seeming to close in around them before his poor vision dimmed even further as a long, dark shadow fell over them.
"You are in the Room of Requirement, Harry, and yes, Mr. Malfoy can move. However, I'm afraid that fact is going to be rather short lived."
Through the fog of pain Harry could do nothing more than stare in paralyzed horror as Draco tensed to run, or fight, or do something, but the wordless hex caught them both by surprised as it ensnared Draco in invisible coils, dragging him from the floor to dangle kicking and thrashing in the air. Draco's bruised and bloodied face, at first cold and composed with anger at the unseen intruder, was now beginning to tighten into a stark mask of pain and horror, his eyes glazing and beginning to well with unshed tears yet still blazing, blazing with life, a life too precious for this, too… innocent- yes. With a jolt, Harry suddenly realized somehow, despite all the death and violence and dark magic in Draco's past, the Slytherin had managed to scrape through it. Not unscathed, certainly, but yet, deep down, Draco was pure in a way Harry felt even he himself wasn't, and the though too weak for anger, the wrongness of watching that innocence violated filled Harry with a deep, dark hatred for that figure still torturing him…them.. from the shadows. "The time has come to say goodbye, Harry. I'm afraid Mr. Malfoy has a very important role to play in this as well, one which unfortunately necessitates his untimely demise-" Draco shook his head fearfully as the words penetrated straight through his very soul, all pretense of bravery withering as the coils tightened unbearably. He stared at Harry desperately, pleadingly, shaking now with genuine terror.
"Harry… Harry please, help me…please."
Draco's voice was rushed and frantic, breaking on a violent sob, and Harry fought the hex immobilizing him so hard he could feel at least a dozen barely scabbed over wounds splitting open once more.
"Stop! Let him go, please, you don't have to do this. Let him go and I surrender, you can have me, do whatever you want to me and I won't try to stop you, just let Draco go!"
Harry begged from his prone position on the floor, straining just to see Draco through the tears streaming down his own face unchecked as he tried to push the pain to the back of his mind. And it was then, at last, that Harry saw who it was standing just out of his line of sight, who was behind their capture, who was managing to so rapidly destroy everything that they had spent months building together. The elderly Headmaster stepped forward into the dim light, a heavy, tattered black shroud in place of his usually colorful robes and his eyes hidden from sight by the draping hood; however, the long beard, crooked nose and kind smile were unmistakable. Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly at Harry's plea, as well as the look of shock and betrayal twisting the boy's near-unrecognizable features. Dumbledore's hands, however, were a stark contrast to his otherwise calm demeanor; shaking and age-spotted, they roughly gripped a handful of Harry's hair, forcing his trapped head up so Harry found himself staring into the shadowed depths of the hood. "You'll surrender? Harry, dear boy, I have you immobilized, both your wand and Mr. Malfoy's snapped and disposed of. You are not only too weak to stand, but completely incapacitated. I'm afraid what I do or do not do to your boyfriend is rather out of your hands now." The thin lips split into a wide, red smile around crooked yellowed teeth. And with that he stood, advancing on Draco's struggling form and abruptly shoving his hand inside Draco's chest with a blinding surge of green light. A strangled scream ripped from Draco's throat as his eyes screwed tight with agony, lost in a world of pain so intense and private Harry felt something inside himself crumble just to watch it.
"NO!"
Harry screamed, thrashing and cursing to no avail as Dumbledore slowly withdrew his hand. Clutched in the old, gnarled fingers was a small, glowing ball of light with a soft, glimmering halo misting the air around it. It hovered there in his hand for a moment, and with a wave of nausea Harry remembered watching through the forest just three years prior as his own soul was sucked out much the same. Somehow this was far, far worse. Sickening prize in hand, Dumbledore at last allowed Draco to slump to the floor, the deathly pale blonde face level with Harry's now and only a few feet away. Draco's eyes were still staring wide, shining with fear and shock and pain as the light within them grew dim, the constant tears streaming down his face slowing as the rise and fall of Draco's chest slowed as well.
"Draco… Draco please, can you hear me??" Harry whispered, bloody, broken fingers clawing at the floor in a desperate attempt to break free." The liquid silver of Draco's eyes had dulled and darkened to the color of wet stone, chalky lips opening and closing on empty air. His breaths were shallow, infrequent and gasping when they came, and Harry tried to shake his head but couldn't, unable to help, to hold… to look away. Draco's hand weakly slid forward, reaching for Harry, but it fell short half way. "Harry…" he whispered, voice low and rough as it was forced out between lips rapidly turning blue. His eyes were utterly penetrating in their intensity as they stared unwaveringly into Harry's, needing in his final moments to know that Harry saw, that he understood, that he remembered.
"Harry, I love you…." Draco could only breathe the words. They were barely audible and yet they thundered in Harry's ears, echoing through the suddenly empty hole where his heart had been as Draco's tortured form grew still at last, the light in his eyes extinguished completely as he slipped silently into the darkness.
"NO. No no no no NOOO!!
Harry screamed. He screamed, and screamed and screamed, a sound raw and wild and inhuman, a sound that set the very stone of the walls trembling and had Dumbledore clutching at his own chest, swaying unsteadily on his feet, a look of obvious pain tightening the aged features. As Harry screamed, though, a second sound broke through that of his own keening wail, and he realized disjointedly it was the deafening laughter of the crazed man before him rising rapidly in both pitch and insanity as Harry's cry of mourning went on and on. And then, as quickly as he had begun, Harry abruptly fell silent; Dumbledore's curse hit him square in the chest like an invisible blade, slitting Harry's straining vocal chords and drawing a final high pitched yelp of pain before his throat began to fill with blood. Harry reflexively rolled onto his hands and knees on the floor, gagging and choking until he could breathe again, trembling violently. It was then he realized he could at last move his limbs, and he crawled haltingly, blearily, reverently towards Draco's lifeless form. Before Harry could maneuver around his numerous injuries, though, Dumbledore knelt down and effortlessly lifted Draco's body with one hand, the other still holding the glowing ball of Draco's soul. Seeing it there, so bare, so exposed, touched by someone who had no right to do so, made something inside of Harry's own soul quiver and he physically curled in around it, hugging himself tightly. He held the aching, trembling thing inside himself tenderly as above him Dumbledore blew on the small glowing orb, turning it from purest white to acrid green.
"Harry…"
Harry jolted as he felt a stirring deep in his chest, a warm glow momentarily tickling his hand as the metal band heated. Though their bond was still devoid of thought and feeling, the familiar sensation of Draco's magic played at the edges of Harry's senses, bringing tears of desperate hope to his eyes.
"Draco, oh… Draco. Is it really you? But… how? Where….I saw you… I saw you die."
Even inside his own head Harry's voice broke on that dreaded final word.
"Not yet, Harry. Not as long as you're alive. Our magic is bound. As long as you're alive, part of my magic, my soul, will always be with you."
Above Harry, Dumbledore took the seething green ball of Draco's soul and pressed it slowly back into the empty cavity of his chest. The result was instantaneous: Draco's limp frame began to spasm violently as he was seized by uncontrollable coughs, gasping for breath. The sound made Harry look up, and not having seen the return of Draco's altered soul to his body a flood of relief filled him, thick and heady as he tried to stumble to his feet.
"Harry no, get back!"
The voice came barely a second before Draco's eyes opened, a dark trail of blood falling from each of the black, lifeless orbs to splash onto satin soft, snow white cheeks. Even with the warning it was too late, though, and as Harry unsteadily found his feet he was immediately flung back to the floor, cracking his head on the unforgiving stones and seeing a kaleidoscope of black through wide, vacant eyes.
"Harry, kill me, kill me quick before I hurt you. Don't let me do this, please. I can still see what I'm doing, I can still feel my body- please… make it.. quick.. if you can… but do it! Do it now! It's the only way. I'd rather be dead than do these things to you."
Harry sobbed as he lay there, part from all the pain, and Draco's words, but even more from the fact that all the while the smell of Draco's silky hair and recently laundered robes stung his nose and throat with bitter memories. The quick intake of air sucked the thick, hot blood still oozing inside his throat and chest into his lungs, setting of another uncontrollable bought of coughing and gagging.
"No. No, I won't…"
As the flash of pain and dizziness dimmed Harry stood once more, but again Draco immediately knocked him back to the floor, delivering a solid kick to Harry's ribs for his trouble. The bones were already broken from Harry's earlier beating, but the sheer force sent them stabbing inward, and with a mute cry Harry spit up another mouthful of blood across the cold stone floor.
"Harrry… no, please… please kill me. I can't stand hurting you like this, but I can't stop it, it's not…. It's not me, Harry!"
Though the meaning of the words were lost on Harry's pain addled brain, Draco's presence, his fear and urgency and unwavering love for Harry drove him on, and he stood again, stumbling blindly forward. This time Draco followed Harry to the floor, pinning him cruelly by his mangled hands, laughing derisively at Harry's obvious pain.
"Come on, Potter." Harry looked up in shock, Draco's voice in his ear drowning out the one in his head. "Even you know what happens next." Pale, delicate hands were suddenly rough, suddenly everywhere, ripping Harry's robes and using the fabric to tie Harry's hands together. The shattered bones in Harry's left wrist shifted sickeningly, a particularly sharp piece threatening to pierce the skin, but Harry could only grit his teeth.
"Harry, no…. kill me, kill him. It's you that matters, Harry, not me. Only you can fix this, only you can stop him!"
Harry felt his jumper pushed up to expose his chest, his trousers pulled forcefully down to his knees, trapping him, his bare thighs cruelly pried open as far as his trousers would allow and pinned to the floor with a wordless hex. Even in his current state, the impossibility of Draco performing such powerful wandless magic was not lost on Harry, and he looked around for Dumbledore; he found the elderly Headmaster lying prone on the floor across the room, his age-yellowed blue eyes milky with death. Harry stared back up at Draco, eyes widening with fearful realization.
"You…. You're not Draco. And you weren't Dumbledore either. It's you, isn't it? How…. How can it be you? How can it be you?!"
Harry thrashed beneath Draco in rapidly spiking hysteria as now through the dim light and his broken glasses he made out the other boy's eyes, and in them he could see, really see, what was happening, could see the eyes that should have been warm and soft and grey weren't grey at all, or even the empty blackness of a few minutes before, but angry red slits, snake-like, transforming Draco's familiar features into such a look of hate that no magic could truly conceal the monster Tom Riddell had transformed himself into nearly one year past at the Triwizard Tournament, fighting to surface within Draco's stolen body. Harry had not spoken aloud, was incapable of doing so, but no words could have accurately described the horrible understanding in Harry's eyes that had Voldemort chuckling knowingly.
"I have controlled death for many, many years Harry,"
The voice whispered, but it was no longer Draco's- it had become high and cold and deadly, a voice that had woken Harry from nightmares long before he ever knew to whom it belonged. The long-suffering tone in Voldemort's voice did nothing to hide the rabid underlying glee.
"Death is easy to control. It is simple, straightforward- but life is a different matter entirely. I had the power of death, but you, Harry, you had the power of life, and last year when you were so kind to give me back my body, you unwittingly gave me that as well."
Harry knew it was Voldemort, he knew, but when he looked up it was Draco sitting back on his knees where he straddled Harry's bare, struggling thighs, stroking an icy hand down the naked skin of Harry's side and hip. The touch had the old, familiar nausea flooding back at once, making Harry gag, but he found he could turn his head no more than an inch or two once more and the blood he threw up had nowhere to go but back down his throat, where it produced a horrible gurgling noise. Harry was thankful for the pain, though, because it so consumed his mind he was almost entirely able to block out the feel of sharp nails dragging red welts down his chest and stomach.
"Once you gave me that it was so simple to combine the two, the power of life and death. Charlie Weasely was the easiest access point- he worked alone, isolated, and catching him unguarded was effortless- just as easy, in fact, as it was to use his body to enter Hogwarts. Once I entered these hallowed halls once more, especially with your very own blood and magic in my veins, I'm afraid you never had a chance, Harry. Dumbledore's barriers protect the school from the outside, and- I bet even you didn't know this part, Harry- special allowances had been made for your specific magical signature. Dumbledore thought that allowing you special privileges would increase your chances against me, but in the end it merely gave me the opportunity I needed to destroy you underneath their very noses! Oh, once I was in,"
Voldemort paused in his speech to arch his hips provocatively into Harry's, and Draco's obvious arousal made Harry sob and strain against his bindings anew. As the memories began to take hold Harry wished more than ever for the comfort of the bond and Draco's voice in his mind, but his head was unnervingly silent and his heart was painfully empty.
"there was nothing any of your precious guardians could do. Severus Snape was particularly hard to get under my control- eventually I had to go through McGonogal! Oh, don't be so surprised, Harry. Whatever you thought about the man, he would have followed Dumbledore to the ends of the earth; a particularly important codependency, I might add- I had to get to Dumbledore when he was weak, unsuspecting, and each week Snape would stand watch while Dumbledore used his penseive. Dumbledore's magic was by far the most powerful-but his body also weakened the quickest. That's why I needed all of your friends, Harry. Dumbledore was the only one I thought could get the job done, so I needed to save his strength, but I needed to keep an eye on you as well. You wouldn't believe how hard they all fought- after that little outburst earlier Severus Snape actually managed to completely throw off my control, for the second time! Unfortunately, I was forced to put him down, or else risk the completion of my little project. I must admit, Harry, I had actually intended to end our game earlier this evening once and for all- I even had all of your friends gathered for the occasion! The mudblood and the youngest Weasely boy of course, not to mention his dear brother Charlie and Severus Snape, with the part of dear Dumbledore played by yours truly."
At this, Draco (Voldemort, Harry reminded himself. Not Draco, Voldemort) laughed softly, cruelly, tugging teasingly at the waistband of Harry's shorts; Harry felt his vision darkening once more as the hand slipped inside to claw and squeeze at him with harsh fingers, and his mind slipped back into his nightmares, back into the past.
"But then, your dearly beloved," at this he paused to elaborately indicate himself, "showed up to make a daring rescue, and I knew then that, magical power and capabilities aside, Draco Malfoy had more power over you than any other. I couldn't let him interfere, of course, but there was no way I was going to let you die with even an ounce of hope in your heart, either. No way I would let you die clinging to your sad little feelings of love and devotion. There was no was I was going to be rushed at this."
Steadying himself with one hand on Harry's hip, Draco held out his hand and a long, crooked dagger flew into his open palm without a word. Harry jerked at the sight, but he was still tied and half-naked beneath the other boy, entirely helpless. Nonetheless, the hand on Harry's hip moved to his shoulder, forcefully pressing Harry into the floor.
"Sixteen years, Harry, you've wasted on frivolities. Fifteen of them on time stolen from me."
The humor was rapidly fading from that high, nasty voice now, though, and something inside Voldemort seemed to snap. Harry's state of partial undress was quickly forgotten as Draco touched the dagger's blood-crusted tip to Harry's chest, pressing down hard enough to draw a tiny pearl of blood and make Harry's breath catch in his tattered throat. Voldemort's eyes were even redder now if possible, wide and glazed and drunk with blood lust, Draco's lips open and panting the way Harry had seen them many times between heated kisses.
"That old corpse barely made it,"
Draco nodded towards Dumbledore's dead body, and Harry felt a spike of cold fury crackle up his spine.
"But it was worth the risk…"
The red eyes narrowed, glinting with unrestrained maniacal glee, the tip of a pink, wet tongue wetting rapidly drying lips.
"… to see this-"
There was a sick squelching sound and a choked gasp as the blade sank through layers of skin and muscle, driving straight through Harry's heart before coming to rest in the bone beneath. Harry's eyes widened, huge and green and shining, as they stared beseechingly into Draco's, the image of his own blood on those hands- hands he had kissed, held, treasured….
A thought struck Harry suddenly and he glanced frantically at Draco's hand- there, there was the ring, the familiar platinum and gold glistening. Voldemort had not noticed it, but maybe… maybe- reaching up with violently shaking hands, Harry grabbed Draco by the front of his robes, drawing the other boy forward. Voldemort's shock was visible through Draco's perplexed features, but Harry felt something deep inside himself, inside them both, warm and soften and swell. Harry's throat was still raw and bloody, but he brought Draco down until they were eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, the dagger pressing even deeper into Harry's chest under Draco's weight. A strained grunt forced its way wetly, but otherwise silently, from Harry's throat, and Draco's panicky breaths were beginning to fog Harry's glasses. As Harry slowly bled out onto the floor beneath them, so too did the red begin to bleed from Draco's eyes, clarity, and with it panic, slowly returning.
"I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all of my heart, and I forgive you."
The words were no more than breath, but they seemed to materialize between them in softly glowing motes of light with an intensity that increased rapidly as Draco returned to himself. The last of Harry's strength was quickly leaving him, though, and with all that was left within him Harry pressed his lips to Draco's in a tender, aching kiss. As their lips met, the light gathering in them and around them seemed to splinter, shooting outward in every direction with a deafening blow that lit the air with electricity and blasted the ancient stone ceiling into dust. The explosion was deafening as the amplified recapitulation of their bonding echoed around them, wracking Harry's limbs with mild shivers and sending Draco to the floor at Harry's side in a writhing mass as the blackness evaporated from his soul like steam.
As the debris fell around them and the dust settled in their hair and on their skin like archaic snow, Harry and Draco clung together unconsciously; the blond boy's limp form curled around the dagger still protruding from Harry's chest, and the Gryffindor's mangled fingers locked tightly around handfuls of Draco's robes as their breathing slowed. Far below, in a world as yet untouched by the tragedy unfolding above, students were jarred awake by the resounding explosion and the emergency alarms that echoed down the empty halls and through the silent classrooms. Not far from where Harry and Draco lay, locked within the Griffindor dormitories, Ron and Hermione cried out in unison from the warmth and safety of their separate beds, waking violently from a nightmare that was at once vivid and unreal. The memories of the sacrificial ceremony they had attended just hours before haunted them, tangible and yet just out of grasp, like the smell of blood and dark magic still clinging in their clothes and hair. One floor below, Blaise and Pansy both froze in their hours-long search for Harry and Draco, eyes meeting with dread as they took off at a run for the nearby staircase.
Within the Room of Requirement the silence that followed was deafening. Feeling drugged and disoriented, Draco slowly tried to get to his knees but slipped in the ever-widening pool of blood beneath them, pitching forward slightly. Raising his weak, trembling hands to rub his bleary eyes, Draco was surprised to find his numb fingers were wet. For a long moment he could only stare down at the red liquid confusedly, distantly aware of the feeling of it drying in a thin, sticky smear on his face.
"Harry…?"
Draco's voice was small and scared as the fog in his mind began to clear and he stared in growing horror at his red hands, watching the blood trailing slowly down his wrists in thick, glistening drops. Shaking, more violently now than when he'd known he was mere moments from death, Draco hesitantly raised his eyes. Memory came in both small snatches and large chunks, weaving together into a nightmare that Draco couldn't comprehend, couldn't believe was true. Horrible images flashed in his mind, things he would never… never…
"Harry… oh, Merlin. Harry… Harry… are you still with me?"
Draco's hands seemed to have lost all communication with his brain as he tried to force himself to focus, to get help, to find his wand, a wand, to.. oh, Merlin, to fix Harry's clothes. A small, pained gurgle broke the silence, and when Draco realized what it was he rapidly untied Harry's wrists and turned the slight boy onto his side as quickly and as gently as he could manage. Harry was too weak and tired and even spit out the blood, and it merely poured from his half-parted lips in a slow, steady trickle. Draco felt the familiar nausea begin to rise, but his squeamishness seemed so insignificant next to all Harry had done, all he had done.
"Shh… it's ok, it's ok. Don't talk now. You did it, Harry… everything is going to be alright. You were so strong… I'm so proud. Just hang in there, Harry. Help is coming. You'll be ok. "
Draco pressed damp, trembling kisses to Harry's forehead, his cheeks, nose, and then finally his lips; he could barely taste Harry's skin beneath all of the blood and sweat and stale magic, and with a choked sob the bitter taste of his own tears joined as well. Harry made a final attempt to speak, but again it proved useless. Unable to fight any longer, Harry closed his eyes, first for a moment, then longer, until at last he could not open them again. It didn't matter, though. He was too tired, too weak, and words were useless, now, anyway- Draco was here, he was safe, and he knew, and that was all that mattered.
"I love you…"
Harry thought it as hard as he could, willed Draco to remember always, no matter what, as he finally gave in to the overwhelming exhaustion.
"Harry… Harry…"
Draco's voice was soft and afraid as he gathered Harry in his arms, at last coaxing his numb fingers to pull up and fasten Harry's trousers, touching timid fingers to the angry red welts that he knew he had caused, and which he was sure would be bleeding more freely if Harry's body had any more blood to give. Outside, the sound of footsteps and raised voices were quickly approaching, the alarms that had been blaring throughout the entire castle at last penetrating the room's fading charms and enchantments as the world came crashing down around them.