Fore: Daddy: I put all the warnings in the first part, but for those of you just coming… J. K. Rowling owns everything, I think this is PG-13 for some disturbing stuff, some blood, but nothing too explicit, right? And… Dun dun dun dun!! R/H!! ^^ Gotcha!
Memoirs 2
Chapter 1
Something I realized rather quickly, perhaps even before arriving at Hogwarts, was that no other students had servants. At least not with them, as I had Harry trailing me. Almost everyone in the wizarding world, who has a bit of money, has slaves. House elves, human servants, whatever they wished to have. But, they all have others serving their whims. Why was it so strange, then, for the other students in Hogwarts to accept that Harry was there to make sure I was happy and well cared for? I cannot explain it. Students made fun of Harry for his position in the Malfoy household, even until his seventh year. Even though he hadn't actively served me for almost seven years exactly. Let me explain.
Apparently, someone had over-looked that one of the students, namely me, had actually brought a servant along. They had believed Harry to just be another enrollment. Once that little mistake was found, Harry was taken forcibly from the Slytherine rooms to Dumbledore's office. There, I suppose he was interviewed and put through a sorting. It seems I forgot to tell him that he was a Slytherine, he should be with me, and it's a mistake I still pay for. He ended up going to Gryffindor, with only the robes on his back. He didn't even come back to tell me. I found out that morning, arms around nothing, bed confusingly cold. I asked around a bit, demanding to know who had done what, and when no one confessed anything, I went with the others to breakfast, to investigate where he could be. Surely he wouldn't leave the building?
It was there, where I had been forced to sit by a prefect, that all was revealed. McGonagall, as the head of Gryffindor, had one of Harry's shoulders clutched in her talon, and made her announcement. Harry was now a Griffyndor, and she hoped he could forgive the school for making such a grievous error and over-looking him at the public sorting. Of course Harry did, he couldn't do anything else but accept what an elder said. But even though he accepted it, his head stayed bowed and his shoulders hunched. He went to the Griffyndor table and sat by him, that bastard Ron Weasley who had frightened him yesterday.
Meanwhile, I think my heart tried it's damnedest to start again. Harry, in a different house!? And Griffyndor at that!! And now he was sitting with an enemy! The world was topsy-turvy that day, and breakfast wasn't even over yet. Too bad for me, I guess, that I never quite got my balance.
Chapter 2
I suppose they took care of his supplies for him, though with the school funds he only got rags. He didn't seem to mind them, though, and that made me quite suspicious. All of his life he'd gotten the best of everything, after me of course, and now he was content to be separated from me, and poor? Something very strange was going on. Yes, indeed.
Even from the first day of separation, he took on a complete transformation of person. His back became straighter at meals and he never even halted before sitting down, he smiled more, and I noticed in some of his classes he become rather loud and confrontational with the teachers. I cannot even write of my stupefaction. Was some sort of spell put on him? How could he not even look my way when I was directly across from him? When I tried to strike up a conversation? He wouldn't even say hello… And he's supposed to be pining after me! He's mine, and he should be wasting away without me to serve! But, he seemed only to flourish…
It became a great mystery to me then, to find out how my Harry could change so drastically. In the same period of 36 hours he went from kissing my feet to not knowing of my existence! This was not my Harry at all, someone else must have created him. I was determined to find out whom. I watched him like a hawk during our few classes together, in the library, at mealtimes. And I saw a disturbing trend. He would only associate closely with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was a sad realization that only brought out my rage.
Spurned. I had been spurned by my own lover, slave, and friend… so I did the only thing that a Malfoy can in that situation. I ostracized them. I battled with them at every turn, and I made everyone I could hate them. My humiliation, my loneliness, my lowliness… were all created by these three alone. But my fury was really only directed at one. The one that had betrayed me. The two others were just accomplices in his crime, but they would pay too.
So, instead of actually learning or trying to find ways to better myself, I spent my stay at Hogwarts finding every means to torture them. But, really, it was just the wrath of a child they encountered. I acted like a complete child. I attacked Harry, yet deep in my heart I loved him. I will always love him. Love… there had been something on my mind about that, for some time. Harry and Ron. Glances, fleeting touches… and I learned what had changed him so completely. I had my assumptions, but I had to truly find out my answer.
I found them. I found them in one of the classrooms, it was late of course, they didn't want to be found. Especially not by me. Harry might have ignored me, but Weasley didn't. I think he feared me. So go the sins of the fathers passed onto the sons. I think the fear of dark magic that Ron's father passed onto him was a healthy one, as it allowed me to get some kind of revenge over Harry. Without the fear, he would have ignored me too. But he fought back in the way that humans fight what they fear, and a small bit of reluctant admiration had crawled up inside me. But it died an instant, painless death when I found out an amazingly old rumor. From Harry's first night in Griffyndor Tower, he had slept in Weasley's bed. And I saw the evidence in front of my eyes.
If I said my blood boiled over then, it would be an understatement. I raged in my head, and disbelief became a very close friend. I would lay in my bed at night, completely sleepless, and yet calm. I think I experienced so much anger at that one pinpoint in eternity that I broke inside. All the sadness and depression and pure blackness inside of me came out into the open, and I withdrew from the fight. Every fight. I felt so drained, so void… it was peaceful to my dead soul. I no longer cared about my social life, or what others though of me, or Harry's gang. I no longer tormented them. I think that put Ron Weasley on edge for all the rest of his years at Hogwarts, but Harry still ignored it.
When I went home for the holidays that first time, alone, I… cannot talk about it in detail. I… just don't seem to be able to remember it. I think something very bad happened, but I'm not sure. I could have just gone into an exhaustion. I do recall, though, that my father was not happy at all about Harry's abandonment. He seemed more disturbed than I. I couldn't understand why, perhaps only that Lord Voldemort might be displeased, but Lord Voldemort… Somehow I don't think so. That first vacation home was just too strange, and I do not even remember it.
My days did not brighten at all as time went on. I spent my second through seventh years in a haze of nothingness. It was only at the graduation that I woke up again…'
Ron paged through the sheets, and marveled at the sheer number of them. All written at different dates and times, although in the last couple days, in order, and all so… Malfoy. Yes, these were definitely Malfoy's. They had become disturbingly sad to him, though, as the passages had gone on. But even when he had the evidence of Draco's actions in his hands, he didn't quite understand.
Ron had received the package quite early that morning, it had even arrived before the several newspapers. He had wondered a moment over when to open it, right now or when his lover woke up? He had already decided though, when he saw whom it was addressed to. 'Ronald Weasley…' He shrugged a moment, before digging into the package like a child at Christmas.
Now he sat at his kitchen table, coffee cup in one hand, torn sheets from a journal in another. He glanced at Draco's blocky penmanship again, before re-reading the giant, flashing headline on the newspaper beside him. 'It couldn't be true… am I reading it right?' He scrunched up his eyes, and still understood it to say, 'VOLDEMORT AND MALFOYS FOUND DEAD' He scanned over the bold-lettered column again, just to be absolutely certain.
'Witches and wizards around the world are utterly relieved today, since the discovery of a grisly scene. Last night at approximately 8 PM a house-elf found the mutilated bodies of Voldemort (Tom Riddle), Lucius Malfoy, and his son Draco Malfoy in the basement of Malfoy Manor. There was no identification at the scene of the crime that suggests a guilty party is on the loose. In fact, a note left by Draco Malfoy claims his guilt of the crimes, manslaughter and suicide. Authorities are still uncertain of the reason for the murders and suicide, especially since Draco Malfoy was believed to be in league with Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, without intents against them. Specifics are still unattainable at this time, but the crime scene suggests ritualistic…'
Ron tore his eyes away, and glanced back at the last journal sheet in his now cramped hand, dated last night. His eyes widened at the realization. 'He wrote this all last night, before he…'
Ron scrabbled through the papers strewn across the wood table, pushing newspapers with screaming headlines and smiling faces off the surface, looking for… there! The note that was bound to the ribbon that had contained the journal sheets before Ron had torn it off. He scanned the note over, and a sick feeling settled in his stomach.
'Ron Weasley,
It is only in selfish concern for opinions of me that I wrote and sent these to you. It doesn't matter who reads them, just someone. Please let that someone be at least you, if not Harry. My last moment with him ended sweetly, and I don't want it marred in his mind. I believe you'll discover why I sent these to you now, instead of later or at all. When that happens, well, it's your choice what you do. In the end, I did the only thing I could for Harry, and myself. Even though this is the last thing I will say, in any form to anyone, I will use it to try and forgive you for taking Harry from me. I guess… it was better in the end, since it stopped his torture, but… it still hurt me so. Protect him, since I can only watch him now.
Draco Malfoy'
The note slowly slipped through his hand, settling to the table, and a profound silence came over the kitchen. Until a sleepy head poked in through the doorway, and an obvious yawn sounded out from Harry's open jaws.
"Hey, early bird, looks like you swallowed a worm!" Harry's disarming, crooked grin would have been contagious, if not for Ron's consciousness. Harry immediately noted his blank-faced boyfriend, and went over and hugged him, looking the papers strewn about the table over. "What's wrong--" Harry stopped short, when he comprehended the black ink scrawled across sheets and sheets of white paper. "That's--"
"Draco's." Ron finished. He gathered up the hand-written sheets into a stack, and started to pick up newspapers off the kitchen floor. Harry looked cutely confused, and a bit annoyed Ron would have something of Draco's, when he read the headline off a paper Ron tossed on the table. Ron couldn't help but stare at how Harry's jaw fell, and his lover looked astounded. He closed his eyes a moment, breathing deeply, before he began to tie the ribbon around the pages again. Settling them back in the box, he closed it and put it on the counter, intent on putting it in a very dark place immediately.
While walking out the swinging door, he murmured to his stupefied boyfriend, "He did it, for you."
Chapter 3
The Magical Crimes investigator took a disbelieving look over the basement, yet again. So much blood… Everything was covered in blood. And the bodies… The deformed and twisted infantile body of Voldemort was found under the tortured body of Lucius Malfoy, both on some sort of an altar. Lying beside them had been the battered body of Draco Malfoy, the least mauled of the three corpses. The boy's wand was still clutched hard in his hand, and it looked like he had died using it.
The investigator had to turn, the amount of damage, and the twisted way magic appeared to have been used for ages turned his whole intestinal tract upside down. Just the fetal sack of evil that was Voldemort was enough to make him sick. He quickly hobbled over chalk lines and other investigators, to the only piece of evidence in the room that wasn't bloody or stinking of dark magic. A note, supposedly written by the slaughterer himself.
'I, Draco Malfoy, felt compelled to take some evil from this Earth, and deliver it personally to hell. My decision comes from the discovery two days ago that my most beloved had been made into a scared shell of a person by my father, for Voldemort. I also found out my frequent blackouts about coming home were because of horrible abuse, the same kind bestowed upon my beloved. So, I stopped them from hurting anyone else ever again. Permanently. I did this all on my own, without anyone else knowing before the crime or involved .'
Chapter 4
Harry was crying, staring at one newspaper in particular. It had a large picture of the Malfoy Manor basement, with moving 'magical investigation- keep out' tape scurrying over the crime scene, and people bending over and gathering evidence. Every once in awhile someone would shout, and the others would flock over to them, a mutual shudder would go through the crowd before they all went back to their own thing.
Ron had put away the notes, still uncertain of whether or not he had actually wanted to have seen the past from Draco's point of view. Then, he had come back to the kitchen, to find Harry out of shock and into grief. He knew only a few things would help Harry now, as it had before in the Griffyndor dorm-room. Dragging a chair over to where Harry was, he leaned back and pulled Harry easily into his lap, hugging him and rubbing his back, gently kissing his ear. "Tell me…what you're thinking, love."
A sniffle, then a reply, "You were right Ron, he did do it for me."
"Harry…" Ron looked a bit uncomfortable, but forced himself to continue, "tell me about all this. I know about your slavery to him, too much about that really, but…" Harry's breath hitched, Ron apologized. "It's over now, it really is. Sorry about bringing it up again…"
"No Ron, you're right. Seems you're right a lot…", Harry's humor failed him, what with the tears on his cheeks. "I need to talk to someone about this, again…" Suddenly Harry turned in Ron's arms, facing his lover and looking like he was going to take on a Herculean effort. "Draco killed Voldemort and his father last night because of what I told him at graduation. He had been following me all day, asking again and again that 'since this is our last day together here, could you please look at me? Tell me why you despise me.' So, I did. I told him… I told him I hated him ever since I realized that he wasn't my protector, that all of the pain I experienced would stop with him. When he-" A sob interrupted him, and it took him a moment to continue, with a reassuring squeeze from Ron, "When we were still at the manor, he would leave sometimes, and that's when… that's when I would get hurt. Lucius would take me to the basement," Harry's eyes strayed over to the newspaper, seeming to memorize it in his intensity, "and he would put me there, on that table. Voldemort would be there too, cushioned somewhere, while those men tried to find out why I hadn't died when Voldemort tried to kill me. They cast spells over me, trying to see what made me tick. They tried to see what would hurt me the most, and what didn't bother me. I was used like a guinea pig for years, and all under Draco's nose.
"Draco… would find me, when he returned, curled up somewhere and sobbing over the inflicted pain. I waited for Draco, wishing for him to return, because the pain stopped when he was there. Lucius never tortured me when Draco was around. He had punished me a few times, in front of Draco, so I still don't get it why Lucius wouldn't torture me with his son around. Some kind of convoluted logic, probably.
"Draco's father had lied to him. Draco had been told that I was a gift from Voldemort, and that was all. Voldemort had been in no condition to give gifts though, dying in a dank, musty room below the house. The only reason I was even there was for them to either kill me slowly, or find a cure. They never found a cure. But… but at least it all stopped when we went to Hogwarts. Now that I think back on it, that would have to have been one of the best days of my life, in some strange way… when I first met you." Harry gently kissed Ron's cheek, and the red-haired boy hugged his lover to himself, pouring his love into the act.
"When I first began to ignore him, it was out of hate and rage. But, as time went on, I realized why I really wouldn't talk to him. Because I knew, in my heart of hearts, he wouldn't have believed me. He wouldn't have believed me that they had hurt me for so long, right under his nose. And… it made me feel sad, the way he was wasting away right in front of us. But, still, I knew that I wanted no part in anything of his ever again, so I continued to snub him. Until the last day, when he bothered me so much... after I had told him, his eyes went really soft for a moment, after all the disbelief and vengeance I had seen there while I had been talking, and he... touched me. He took my hands in his, and pulled me to him, gently. He kissed the top of my head, then... Then he ran away. It seemed kind of sweet to me then, for that split second in time, but something was still wrong. After listening to my confession, a new light came into his eyes, like he had had epiphany, and he ran."
"I… I didn't think he would kill them!!" Harry's eyes were wide, and Ron held him firmly, trying to soothe his bawling boyfriend. Harry whimpered into his shirt, "I didn't think he would kill himself…" And, Ron Weasley, was the only person left living on the earth that knew both sides of the story.
Post: Daddy: Hah! HA HA HA!! ^^ Geez, this thing didn't end how I'd though it would… kinda took control of itself after a bit of my ranting at people… ^_~ Oh well, I like it! And look, I even completed it!! I completed something!! *cheers* Oh, and as always, constructive comments, please! And thank you everyone, for your suggestions, they helped!! Though.. it probably wasn't what you were thinking of… ^_~ I do have one last question though… are there any major, giant plot holes that I totally missed? And did the second part match the first? The fics.
Memoirs 2
Chapter 1
Something I realized rather quickly, perhaps even before arriving at Hogwarts, was that no other students had servants. At least not with them, as I had Harry trailing me. Almost everyone in the wizarding world, who has a bit of money, has slaves. House elves, human servants, whatever they wished to have. But, they all have others serving their whims. Why was it so strange, then, for the other students in Hogwarts to accept that Harry was there to make sure I was happy and well cared for? I cannot explain it. Students made fun of Harry for his position in the Malfoy household, even until his seventh year. Even though he hadn't actively served me for almost seven years exactly. Let me explain.
Apparently, someone had over-looked that one of the students, namely me, had actually brought a servant along. They had believed Harry to just be another enrollment. Once that little mistake was found, Harry was taken forcibly from the Slytherine rooms to Dumbledore's office. There, I suppose he was interviewed and put through a sorting. It seems I forgot to tell him that he was a Slytherine, he should be with me, and it's a mistake I still pay for. He ended up going to Gryffindor, with only the robes on his back. He didn't even come back to tell me. I found out that morning, arms around nothing, bed confusingly cold. I asked around a bit, demanding to know who had done what, and when no one confessed anything, I went with the others to breakfast, to investigate where he could be. Surely he wouldn't leave the building?
It was there, where I had been forced to sit by a prefect, that all was revealed. McGonagall, as the head of Gryffindor, had one of Harry's shoulders clutched in her talon, and made her announcement. Harry was now a Griffyndor, and she hoped he could forgive the school for making such a grievous error and over-looking him at the public sorting. Of course Harry did, he couldn't do anything else but accept what an elder said. But even though he accepted it, his head stayed bowed and his shoulders hunched. He went to the Griffyndor table and sat by him, that bastard Ron Weasley who had frightened him yesterday.
Meanwhile, I think my heart tried it's damnedest to start again. Harry, in a different house!? And Griffyndor at that!! And now he was sitting with an enemy! The world was topsy-turvy that day, and breakfast wasn't even over yet. Too bad for me, I guess, that I never quite got my balance.
Chapter 2
I suppose they took care of his supplies for him, though with the school funds he only got rags. He didn't seem to mind them, though, and that made me quite suspicious. All of his life he'd gotten the best of everything, after me of course, and now he was content to be separated from me, and poor? Something very strange was going on. Yes, indeed.
Even from the first day of separation, he took on a complete transformation of person. His back became straighter at meals and he never even halted before sitting down, he smiled more, and I noticed in some of his classes he become rather loud and confrontational with the teachers. I cannot even write of my stupefaction. Was some sort of spell put on him? How could he not even look my way when I was directly across from him? When I tried to strike up a conversation? He wouldn't even say hello… And he's supposed to be pining after me! He's mine, and he should be wasting away without me to serve! But, he seemed only to flourish…
It became a great mystery to me then, to find out how my Harry could change so drastically. In the same period of 36 hours he went from kissing my feet to not knowing of my existence! This was not my Harry at all, someone else must have created him. I was determined to find out whom. I watched him like a hawk during our few classes together, in the library, at mealtimes. And I saw a disturbing trend. He would only associate closely with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was a sad realization that only brought out my rage.
Spurned. I had been spurned by my own lover, slave, and friend… so I did the only thing that a Malfoy can in that situation. I ostracized them. I battled with them at every turn, and I made everyone I could hate them. My humiliation, my loneliness, my lowliness… were all created by these three alone. But my fury was really only directed at one. The one that had betrayed me. The two others were just accomplices in his crime, but they would pay too.
So, instead of actually learning or trying to find ways to better myself, I spent my stay at Hogwarts finding every means to torture them. But, really, it was just the wrath of a child they encountered. I acted like a complete child. I attacked Harry, yet deep in my heart I loved him. I will always love him. Love… there had been something on my mind about that, for some time. Harry and Ron. Glances, fleeting touches… and I learned what had changed him so completely. I had my assumptions, but I had to truly find out my answer.
I found them. I found them in one of the classrooms, it was late of course, they didn't want to be found. Especially not by me. Harry might have ignored me, but Weasley didn't. I think he feared me. So go the sins of the fathers passed onto the sons. I think the fear of dark magic that Ron's father passed onto him was a healthy one, as it allowed me to get some kind of revenge over Harry. Without the fear, he would have ignored me too. But he fought back in the way that humans fight what they fear, and a small bit of reluctant admiration had crawled up inside me. But it died an instant, painless death when I found out an amazingly old rumor. From Harry's first night in Griffyndor Tower, he had slept in Weasley's bed. And I saw the evidence in front of my eyes.
If I said my blood boiled over then, it would be an understatement. I raged in my head, and disbelief became a very close friend. I would lay in my bed at night, completely sleepless, and yet calm. I think I experienced so much anger at that one pinpoint in eternity that I broke inside. All the sadness and depression and pure blackness inside of me came out into the open, and I withdrew from the fight. Every fight. I felt so drained, so void… it was peaceful to my dead soul. I no longer cared about my social life, or what others though of me, or Harry's gang. I no longer tormented them. I think that put Ron Weasley on edge for all the rest of his years at Hogwarts, but Harry still ignored it.
When I went home for the holidays that first time, alone, I… cannot talk about it in detail. I… just don't seem to be able to remember it. I think something very bad happened, but I'm not sure. I could have just gone into an exhaustion. I do recall, though, that my father was not happy at all about Harry's abandonment. He seemed more disturbed than I. I couldn't understand why, perhaps only that Lord Voldemort might be displeased, but Lord Voldemort… Somehow I don't think so. That first vacation home was just too strange, and I do not even remember it.
My days did not brighten at all as time went on. I spent my second through seventh years in a haze of nothingness. It was only at the graduation that I woke up again…'
Ron paged through the sheets, and marveled at the sheer number of them. All written at different dates and times, although in the last couple days, in order, and all so… Malfoy. Yes, these were definitely Malfoy's. They had become disturbingly sad to him, though, as the passages had gone on. But even when he had the evidence of Draco's actions in his hands, he didn't quite understand.
Ron had received the package quite early that morning, it had even arrived before the several newspapers. He had wondered a moment over when to open it, right now or when his lover woke up? He had already decided though, when he saw whom it was addressed to. 'Ronald Weasley…' He shrugged a moment, before digging into the package like a child at Christmas.
Now he sat at his kitchen table, coffee cup in one hand, torn sheets from a journal in another. He glanced at Draco's blocky penmanship again, before re-reading the giant, flashing headline on the newspaper beside him. 'It couldn't be true… am I reading it right?' He scrunched up his eyes, and still understood it to say, 'VOLDEMORT AND MALFOYS FOUND DEAD' He scanned over the bold-lettered column again, just to be absolutely certain.
'Witches and wizards around the world are utterly relieved today, since the discovery of a grisly scene. Last night at approximately 8 PM a house-elf found the mutilated bodies of Voldemort (Tom Riddle), Lucius Malfoy, and his son Draco Malfoy in the basement of Malfoy Manor. There was no identification at the scene of the crime that suggests a guilty party is on the loose. In fact, a note left by Draco Malfoy claims his guilt of the crimes, manslaughter and suicide. Authorities are still uncertain of the reason for the murders and suicide, especially since Draco Malfoy was believed to be in league with Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, without intents against them. Specifics are still unattainable at this time, but the crime scene suggests ritualistic…'
Ron tore his eyes away, and glanced back at the last journal sheet in his now cramped hand, dated last night. His eyes widened at the realization. 'He wrote this all last night, before he…'
Ron scrabbled through the papers strewn across the wood table, pushing newspapers with screaming headlines and smiling faces off the surface, looking for… there! The note that was bound to the ribbon that had contained the journal sheets before Ron had torn it off. He scanned the note over, and a sick feeling settled in his stomach.
'Ron Weasley,
It is only in selfish concern for opinions of me that I wrote and sent these to you. It doesn't matter who reads them, just someone. Please let that someone be at least you, if not Harry. My last moment with him ended sweetly, and I don't want it marred in his mind. I believe you'll discover why I sent these to you now, instead of later or at all. When that happens, well, it's your choice what you do. In the end, I did the only thing I could for Harry, and myself. Even though this is the last thing I will say, in any form to anyone, I will use it to try and forgive you for taking Harry from me. I guess… it was better in the end, since it stopped his torture, but… it still hurt me so. Protect him, since I can only watch him now.
Draco Malfoy'
The note slowly slipped through his hand, settling to the table, and a profound silence came over the kitchen. Until a sleepy head poked in through the doorway, and an obvious yawn sounded out from Harry's open jaws.
"Hey, early bird, looks like you swallowed a worm!" Harry's disarming, crooked grin would have been contagious, if not for Ron's consciousness. Harry immediately noted his blank-faced boyfriend, and went over and hugged him, looking the papers strewn about the table over. "What's wrong--" Harry stopped short, when he comprehended the black ink scrawled across sheets and sheets of white paper. "That's--"
"Draco's." Ron finished. He gathered up the hand-written sheets into a stack, and started to pick up newspapers off the kitchen floor. Harry looked cutely confused, and a bit annoyed Ron would have something of Draco's, when he read the headline off a paper Ron tossed on the table. Ron couldn't help but stare at how Harry's jaw fell, and his lover looked astounded. He closed his eyes a moment, breathing deeply, before he began to tie the ribbon around the pages again. Settling them back in the box, he closed it and put it on the counter, intent on putting it in a very dark place immediately.
While walking out the swinging door, he murmured to his stupefied boyfriend, "He did it, for you."
Chapter 3
The Magical Crimes investigator took a disbelieving look over the basement, yet again. So much blood… Everything was covered in blood. And the bodies… The deformed and twisted infantile body of Voldemort was found under the tortured body of Lucius Malfoy, both on some sort of an altar. Lying beside them had been the battered body of Draco Malfoy, the least mauled of the three corpses. The boy's wand was still clutched hard in his hand, and it looked like he had died using it.
The investigator had to turn, the amount of damage, and the twisted way magic appeared to have been used for ages turned his whole intestinal tract upside down. Just the fetal sack of evil that was Voldemort was enough to make him sick. He quickly hobbled over chalk lines and other investigators, to the only piece of evidence in the room that wasn't bloody or stinking of dark magic. A note, supposedly written by the slaughterer himself.
'I, Draco Malfoy, felt compelled to take some evil from this Earth, and deliver it personally to hell. My decision comes from the discovery two days ago that my most beloved had been made into a scared shell of a person by my father, for Voldemort. I also found out my frequent blackouts about coming home were because of horrible abuse, the same kind bestowed upon my beloved. So, I stopped them from hurting anyone else ever again. Permanently. I did this all on my own, without anyone else knowing before the crime or involved .'
Chapter 4
Harry was crying, staring at one newspaper in particular. It had a large picture of the Malfoy Manor basement, with moving 'magical investigation- keep out' tape scurrying over the crime scene, and people bending over and gathering evidence. Every once in awhile someone would shout, and the others would flock over to them, a mutual shudder would go through the crowd before they all went back to their own thing.
Ron had put away the notes, still uncertain of whether or not he had actually wanted to have seen the past from Draco's point of view. Then, he had come back to the kitchen, to find Harry out of shock and into grief. He knew only a few things would help Harry now, as it had before in the Griffyndor dorm-room. Dragging a chair over to where Harry was, he leaned back and pulled Harry easily into his lap, hugging him and rubbing his back, gently kissing his ear. "Tell me…what you're thinking, love."
A sniffle, then a reply, "You were right Ron, he did do it for me."
"Harry…" Ron looked a bit uncomfortable, but forced himself to continue, "tell me about all this. I know about your slavery to him, too much about that really, but…" Harry's breath hitched, Ron apologized. "It's over now, it really is. Sorry about bringing it up again…"
"No Ron, you're right. Seems you're right a lot…", Harry's humor failed him, what with the tears on his cheeks. "I need to talk to someone about this, again…" Suddenly Harry turned in Ron's arms, facing his lover and looking like he was going to take on a Herculean effort. "Draco killed Voldemort and his father last night because of what I told him at graduation. He had been following me all day, asking again and again that 'since this is our last day together here, could you please look at me? Tell me why you despise me.' So, I did. I told him… I told him I hated him ever since I realized that he wasn't my protector, that all of the pain I experienced would stop with him. When he-" A sob interrupted him, and it took him a moment to continue, with a reassuring squeeze from Ron, "When we were still at the manor, he would leave sometimes, and that's when… that's when I would get hurt. Lucius would take me to the basement," Harry's eyes strayed over to the newspaper, seeming to memorize it in his intensity, "and he would put me there, on that table. Voldemort would be there too, cushioned somewhere, while those men tried to find out why I hadn't died when Voldemort tried to kill me. They cast spells over me, trying to see what made me tick. They tried to see what would hurt me the most, and what didn't bother me. I was used like a guinea pig for years, and all under Draco's nose.
"Draco… would find me, when he returned, curled up somewhere and sobbing over the inflicted pain. I waited for Draco, wishing for him to return, because the pain stopped when he was there. Lucius never tortured me when Draco was around. He had punished me a few times, in front of Draco, so I still don't get it why Lucius wouldn't torture me with his son around. Some kind of convoluted logic, probably.
"Draco's father had lied to him. Draco had been told that I was a gift from Voldemort, and that was all. Voldemort had been in no condition to give gifts though, dying in a dank, musty room below the house. The only reason I was even there was for them to either kill me slowly, or find a cure. They never found a cure. But… but at least it all stopped when we went to Hogwarts. Now that I think back on it, that would have to have been one of the best days of my life, in some strange way… when I first met you." Harry gently kissed Ron's cheek, and the red-haired boy hugged his lover to himself, pouring his love into the act.
"When I first began to ignore him, it was out of hate and rage. But, as time went on, I realized why I really wouldn't talk to him. Because I knew, in my heart of hearts, he wouldn't have believed me. He wouldn't have believed me that they had hurt me for so long, right under his nose. And… it made me feel sad, the way he was wasting away right in front of us. But, still, I knew that I wanted no part in anything of his ever again, so I continued to snub him. Until the last day, when he bothered me so much... after I had told him, his eyes went really soft for a moment, after all the disbelief and vengeance I had seen there while I had been talking, and he... touched me. He took my hands in his, and pulled me to him, gently. He kissed the top of my head, then... Then he ran away. It seemed kind of sweet to me then, for that split second in time, but something was still wrong. After listening to my confession, a new light came into his eyes, like he had had epiphany, and he ran."
"I… I didn't think he would kill them!!" Harry's eyes were wide, and Ron held him firmly, trying to soothe his bawling boyfriend. Harry whimpered into his shirt, "I didn't think he would kill himself…" And, Ron Weasley, was the only person left living on the earth that knew both sides of the story.
Post: Daddy: Hah! HA HA HA!! ^^ Geez, this thing didn't end how I'd though it would… kinda took control of itself after a bit of my ranting at people… ^_~ Oh well, I like it! And look, I even completed it!! I completed something!! *cheers* Oh, and as always, constructive comments, please! And thank you everyone, for your suggestions, they helped!! Though.. it probably wasn't what you were thinking of… ^_~ I do have one last question though… are there any major, giant plot holes that I totally missed? And did the second part match the first? The fics.