The Lyrium Ghost

by Aina Song

When Harry's magic unlocks a lifetime of hidden memories, he decides to take matters into his own hands to settle a number of wrongs – both recent, and long-ago.

7. Please

Title: The Lyrium Ghost

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Harry Potter/ Dragon Age II

Genre: Yaoi

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Crossover; AU; OOC; Language; Excess Blood; Mentions of Character Death; Flashback(s) to Death Scene; DA2 Direct Quotes and Spoilers.

Pairing(s): Anders/Harry x Fenris

Reviews: Yes, please!

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money. Italics = thought, messages, the Fade.

Teaser: When Harry's magic unlocks a lifetime of hidden memories, he decides to take matters into his own hands to settle a number of wrongs – both recent, and long-ago.

Chapter Seven – Please…

The door swung quietly closed behind him, the wards throwing themselves up as he entered deeper into the room. With every step, the room slowly lit with the glow of floating candles. The shadows drew back, playing across the glass surface of a familiar glass casket. Near its base, trailing a hand over the carved dwarven runes, one shadow lingered.

"Hey, Blondie," Varric greeted without looking up.

"Varric," he returned as he stepped closer. He smoothed his own hand over the glass. Its cool touch sent a small chill into his palm and fingers, creeping toward his wrist. Era'harel fought the sting in his eyes as he gazed at the slumbering figure protected within the glass. He longed so much to sift his fingers again through that tuft of white hair, to watch those beautiful eyes blink open and focus their piercing gaze upon him as they had done so long ago.

"Proff knows your story now?"

"Yes." A small smile tugged at his lips for a brief second. "'Proff'?"

The dwarf shrugged, "I'll come up with something better after I get to know him."

Era'harel touched a kiss upon the glass, then turned and sank to the floor, resting his back against the casket base. "Couldn't sleep, I see."

Varric joined him, kicking out his legs with a soft groan. "One of the perks of longevity. Physically, I would go weeks, maybe months without it. Mentally… well, I can't deny the luxury of letting my mind rest a spell. Probably drive myself crazy, otherwise."

"But not tonight?"

The dwarf scoffed, and the sound was so familiar, it nearly brought a small smile to the corner of 'Harel's lips. "Now that you're back, my mind is rampant with old memories. I didn't used to think I was one for nostalgia, but here I am – reminiscing."

"I would think a storyteller would enjoy a bit of reminiscing," he teased, half-heartedly. "Isn't that the point?"

"Only with an audience, Blondie," Varric shot back. For a moment, it was as though they were back in the dwarf's room of the Hanged Man. "What about you? You had a long night."

'Harel frowned, turning his gaze away. "You know what happens every time I fall asleep, Varric. I haven't given up the search, but…"

"You two were closer than anything I'd ever seen. Surely, that helps."

"It's been an age since then. Probably many. And the Fade is different. Barren. I think it may be dying."

He heard Varric draw in a sharp breath. "Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," he whispered, dropping his head atop his arms.

A terrible silence fell over them as the weight of the implications worried at their minds. Varric shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "Well," he spoke gruffly. He settled a hand against the back of the reawakened mage's shoulder, "Listen, we still have all those tomes and scrolls in your vault. There was that scholar Genitivi, and I knew an elf who made it his life's work studying the Veil. I'm almost sure I got him to write some of it down before he disappeared…"

"The Veil."

He paused, perhaps realizing he hadn't been interrupted by some obscure echo. "What's that, Blondie?"

Era'harel Anderfel lifted his head again, and there was the hint of that old rebellious spark in those amber eyes.

~o~

The next morning, the resurrected mage had handed over a goblin-written missive to the magical Ministry, and was now following an Auror through the Department of Mysteries. Varric, guised as Abrasion, was at his side as both a Gringotts representative and a personal guard of its most highly-favored client.

Privately, he had teased 'Harel that he was just waiting for a good story.

At last, the Auror opened the door they were after and waited in the rotatable corridor, as per the missive's orders. 'Harel and Varric stepped into a large rectangular room and made their way down the stone tiers toward the sunken floor in the center. There, exactly as he remembered it, stood an ancient stone archway, draped with tattered black curtain that looked to have gathered even more dust than the last time he had seen it. This time, however, it did not move with some unfelt breeze. It did not whisper ominously with voices from within, though Era'harel did not expect it to, suspecting now what he did of the Fade's dwindling power.

"Blondie…"

"I'm not going to step through, Varric." He gave the archway a long look, flashes of Sirius Black falling through swimming before his eyes. Shaking his head, he turned and settled upon the bottommost tier. "Watch over me. I don't know how long this will take, if it works at all."

~o~

Two pairs of grey eyes greeted him as he arrived. The boy clung to his counterpart's side as though afraid they would be separated again. The man had a hand buried protectively within the smaller shard's curls, and was watching Era'harel steadily.

The young mage let a pulse of his magic blanket them warmly for a moment. The boy nearly smiled.

Turning slowly on the spot, 'Harel found so much vast space around them. He had felt certain this was where the Fade would feel strongest, but still it paled in comparison to what he once had known. Perhaps he had been wrong, to have come. But he needed so much to have been proven right. He needed-

"Strong hands bracing me, anchoring me, do not give in to it, do not let it consume me, push it back, it will work, I came back, he's here, I know it, I just need to, to…"

Era'harel spun on his heel.

Dark doe-eyes peered back at him from under a curtain of messily cropped blond hair. This frail-looking presence wore its rags as though they were treasured. It offered a hesitant smile, but appeared ready to flee at the first sign of hostility.

Era'harel was cautious, but it was not a demon. "What are you?"

"I help the hurt." It paused a moment, "I-I did. I did help the hurt. Now, I… I watch. I-I listen, I wait…"

"For?"

"My turn to die."

Something uncomfortable squeezed inside his chest. "You're a benevolent spirit, aren't you. You're tied to the Fade, and-"

"Thrones crumbling, stones cracking. Wispy wisps whispering in whistling whimpering willful tears as shadows grew, thick and dank and dark, sharing the empty, spreading."

"Then it's true. The Fade is dying?"

Its answer this time was heart-wrenchingly clear. "Yes."

He closed his eyes, letting the confirmation wash over him, sorrowful but accepting. Drawing a slow breath, he focused again upon the spirit before him. Simple coincidence was too unlikely, given this new perspective. "Why have you come? Did you know to come here?"

The spirit's expression looked suddenly pained. "Blue fire, tasting, taking, stealing, leaving bitter aftertaste on the tongue, blood on the hands, sword screaming through the air…"

Era'harel's heart froze within his chest.

"Freed, avenged, still corrupted, hated, hating…" It bit at its lip, ducking its head as it held out its hands in offering. "Forgiven, broken but healing, bathed in his light, home."

In the spirit's hands was a trinket of gleaming silver. Emblazoned upon with a golden sun over a tall black throne, the sight of it was achingly familiar. Hesitantly, 'Harel reached out and accepted it from the spirit's fingers. As soon as his own fingers brushed over the talisman, an electric jolt shocked up his arm toward his elbow. The feeling brought with it several flashes of sights and sounds to his mind, and he gripped the talisman tight, bringing it close to his chest.

"He held on to his light for so long, hiding it from the shadows, until darkness became all he knew…"

The mage looked sharply up. "What do you mean?"

The spirit's doe eyes grew saddened indeed. His next words, though offering no explanation, rang strongly of soulful apology. "The dwarf… tell him… Tell him..."

~o~

Era'harel opened his eyes with a start. His palm ached with cold, and when he sat up he found his fist still gripped the talisman.

"You okay, there, Blondie?"

"Thank you…"

"What was that?"

He looked up, meeting Varric's curious gaze. "It said… 'Thank you, for showing me how to put honey in the nightingale's wine.'"

To his surprise, he watched his friend's face crumble into the most vulnerable expression he had ever seen. "That's not possible…"

"Varric?"

The guised dwarf sighed, as though in pain. "Do you remember me telling you about my stint with some people when the sky tore open?"

"The Inquisition," 'Harel nodded. "Some woman and her guards kidnapped you and interrogated you about Hawke, there was a tear in the skies, and you stuck around to help them fix it."

Chuckling, Varric shook his head. "You still need work with your storytelling, Blondie. Anyway. One of the people I worked with was a young boy, who turned out to be a spirit that had given itself a human body to avenge a mage it had failed to save. A spirit of Compassion. Cole."

Era'harel blinked. "I didn't think that was possible. It wasn't possession?"

"No, we had a Fade expert who confirmed it a dozen times over. That bit you just gave me about the honey and the wine? Cole was becoming more human and worried about being unable to help people without them seeing. So, I taught him a thing or two. First lesson: sneaking honey into our spymaster's wine." He shook his head again; "Of all the things you could've told me you'd found in there, I was not expecting that. But… You said the Fade was dying.?"

'Harel nodded. "I'm sorry, Varric."

He sighed, again. "Well. I'd mourned him once already, after enough time had passed. Same as all the others. You telling me he remembers me, though, that… That does this old heart a world of good."

"He gave me this," 'Harel held out his hands, revealing the amulet.

Varric shifted closer. "Is that what I think it is?"

"The Tevinter chantry amulet Hawke found during one of his escapades. He'd given it to me. Thought I'd like the irony."

"I remember that. You gave it to your elf, though, didn't you?"

"He was wearing it when we…" He drew a long breath, swallowing down the rest of that sentence. He fisted the amulet tight within his palm. "I don't know how Justice or your Cole did it, but his soul is in this amulet. I can feel him."

"So, that's it? All you need now is something from a creature that can't die, a few words, and a splash of your magic."

"The only creature to come to mind is a phoenix. I know of one." Era'harel smirked. "He frequents Dumbledore's office."

Varric laughed uproariously.

~o~

"Lord Anderfel," Severus Snape greeted upon his return to the Golden Hall, his choice of words alerting the young mage that their conversation was not private. "I'm afraid I have something I must draw to your attention."

"Yes?"

The professor's dark eyes held an almost-apologetic gleam as he motioned toward the same drawing room they had talked in the night before. Upon entering, Era'harel discovered a strong ward surrounding his pensieve, and Kreacher standing before it with his spindly arms crossed over his chest. Both Lucius and Draco were in the room as well, each giving the mage lord a look of trepidation when they noticed his return.

'Harel could admit to a sense of bemusement as he took it all in. He quirked an eyebrow at his house elf, who explained immediately. "Malfoys not wants wait for permission. Kreacher stop."

Softly chuckling, he asked, "And how long have you been standing guard?"

"Since older Malfoy destroying Snapey's shields."

He cut a glance to Lucius, who now looked guilty as well as wary. With a small quirk of his mouth, Era'harel returned his attention to the little elf. "Thank you, Kreacher. My secrets could not have been better protected."

Kreacher nodded sharply, snapping his knobby fingers. The ward flickered a moment before vanishing altogether. The house elf dared to give Lucius Malfoy another glare, and in the next instant had gone with a crack.

'Harel turned again to Malfoy Senior and son. He nearly smirked at the way they were watching him, as though uncertain of their host but unwilling to let it show, and had to reign in his amusement. "Am I to believe now that you expect some form of retribution for this attempted breach into my private affairs?"

Something in his tone must have gotten through, for they both blinked and began to relax at last. Unable to hold back another soft chuckle, he gave a small shake of his head and waved his arm toward the pensieve in invitation. "Shall we?"

They were unable to completely mask their surprise. But they came closer and joined Era'harel within the swirl of his memories. He led them through each scene, much as he had done for Snape the night before, explaining the significance behind the moments they witnessed. They were both as horrified by the memory of the darkspawn as the dark professor had been; and they both stared in dismay upon witnessing the chantry's explosion. And toward the end, 'Harel pulled them away from the pensieve before they could discover the true manner of his death.

The two Malfoys seemed to need a few moments to reclaim their wits. 'Harel could understand. A lifetime of memories was indeed quite a lot to take in. But then young Draco looked upon him with new, hesitant, eyes, and ventured, "Potter…?"

Rather than any sense of trepidation, 'Harel could only feel a small weight lift from his shoulders. He let out a small sigh, nodding.

It was 'Harel's turn to be greatly surprised, when Draco Malfoy stepped right up to him and took the young mage into his arms in a fierce embrace. Blinking, 'Harel slowly lifted his own arms around the blond and raised his gaze upon Lucius in question.

The older aristocrat only gave a small huff, mouth twitching obviously in an attempt to hold back a smile, before he followed his son's example. Most shocking of all, Severus Snape – the dungeon bat, himself – joined in on the group embrace, coming up behind 'Harel and circling his long arms around all of them together.

It was most unanticipated. In a million lifetimes, he would never have seen it coming. He never thought it possible, never dared dream to find it again. Among these three, who each had once given him their own brands of grief, he now found himself the recipient of unconditional acceptance. It caught him completely unaware.

Era'harel Anderfel was struck by it all, and brought to tears. He dropped his face to the nearest shoulder and wept.

~o~

Long minutes later, 'Harel was sitting sandwiched between the Malfoys on a small sofa, while Severus Snape had claimed one of the high-backed chairs nearby. They had waited patiently while he shed his tears, and were now a silent support as he regained his composure. Eventually, taking a slow breath, 'Harel looked up and held Draco's gaze. "Explain."

If the younger blond was taken aback by the demand, he did not show it. "I was always your friend, Potter-"

"Harry," he softly interrupted. "Or 'Harel, when we're in public."

The smile that curved Draco's lips was small, but sincere. "Harry. I was always your friend, even after you refused my hand in first year. But the Malfoys have always been a largely Dark family. Since I was old enough to understand, Father taught me there were some things I would have to keep secret to protect those I care about. We never believed the Dark Lord was truly gone. Essentially, taunting you was my way of keeping you at a safe distance."

"I was already at the top of Voldemort's list."

"Harry," Draco patiently insisted. "If I had been friendly from the start, and we had gotten close before the eyes of the wizarding world, how long do you believe word would've taken to get back to him? What if he had targeted me to get to you? How do you think you would have responded?"

Era'harel nodded, understanding instantly. It was the exact scenario that had trapped him and caused him to lose Sirius. If Draco and he had been close, then of course 'Harry' wouldn't have hesitated in walking into the snake's pit for him as well.

"Speaking of closeness," he said, turning to Lucius as he changed the subject to take the focus off of himself for a moment. "Last night, after Narcissa's attack…"

"You are hinting at Severus' reaction," the aristocrat nodded.

"And not very subtly," the professor smirked from his chair.

Lucius chuckled. "Draco mentioned that he had told you of our Veela heritage, yes? My marriage to Narcissa was entirely one of convenience. When I came into my maturity and discovered my true mate, my father was very much against it. He had a bigoted view against same-sex relationships, and went against the laws of our creature inheritance. He commanded me to deny my Veela and marry Narcissa Black. But I am self-aware enough to call myself clever in stipulating that the fidelity clause would last in so long as it took to conceive our first-born. After Draco was born, Narcissa immediately sought out another lover, and I was free to rekindle things with Severus, even if we couldn't quite announce ourselves as we wished."

"But if your father hadn't been so despicable…"

"I still would have been born," Draco took over the explanation. "Same-sex couples among the Veela would seek out a trusted surrogate. All the magic of Severus and my father would have gone into the surrogate through a sacred ritual, and I would have received nothing from her but the comfort and protection of her womb as I developed. Although perhaps with darker hair and a bit of a surly attitude," he teased in an aside.

"Brat," Snape bit off without a drop of venom.

'Harel shook his head with a small chuckle, turning again to Lucius. "Draco also mentioned that he doesn't have a mate of his own."

The older blond sighed. "It is far more complicated than that. As he said, we have suspected all along that the danger of the Dark Lord never quite left us. The memories you shared with us show that you know that Magic is sentient, even if the rest of the world has forgotten. When Draco came into his maturity, and his Veela did nothing, I believe it is because in its core his Veela is protecting him and whomever his mate might be."

'Harel blinked, glancing at Draco, who glanced away at having been caught in a half-truth. "What would have happened, otherwise?"

"His blood would have boiled for an instant, and then he would have felt one of three sensations wrap around his heart. A soothing warmth, followed by sudden insight toward the identity of his mate. An immeasurable sense of patience, revealing that his mate had not been born yet. Or…"

Here, he hesitated, and Snape gruffly spoke up. "Or he would have felt an icy dread, because his mate had died before he could find them. His magical core would have slowly eaten away at itself, until eventually his Veela would have called to him to join its mate, and he would have died in his sleep."

A thick, somber silence fell over the room as Era'harel took in this new information. The same nudging sensation within the back of his mind from the night before poked and prodded at a hazed notion until it shone with crystal-like clarity before his mind's eye. Taking a slow breath, he sat straighter. "And if we can convince his Veela that Draco is out of danger?"

The three stared at him for a long moment, until suddenly Snape let out a sharp laugh. "Of course."

"You can do that?" Lucius wondered.

'Harel shook his head. "Not in the sense that you seem to be thinking. I will only be coaxing Magic to judge his safety for Herself. However, the choice to do so is not mine to make."

He turned to Draco, whose expression had morphed into that of a unicorn caught in a lumos. But then a look of yearning overtook the young blond, and he leaned forward to stare across 'Harel toward his father. "Please…"