A Letter from Ron.
Dear Harry,
Today I am at Sirius and Hermione's work, the first time I have seen them for six weeks or so. I am kept busy at the castle - the life of the spy is never easy, even when the spy is an animagus. But I managed to get away today, and for a truly pleasant reason too. You know that Voldie has been tiring of Wormtail. In fact, he has always been amused by the antipathy shown by me, his attack falcon, toward the miserable creature, and long ago promised that I would have the honour of tearing him to pieces. In fact, the promise was made at a dinner where Wormtail just got too obnoxious, and I pulled half his hair out and tore his arms quite badly before being calmed down. The honour finally came, but somehow I stopped myself from killing him there and then, and brought him here instead. Much to Sirius's delight, naturally. Sirius bundled him off to a cell immediately, rubbing his hands with glee at the chance to finally commit that murder.
I can't tell you how amazing it was to see Hermione again. First I felt my eyes light up, then my face, then she was in my arms, and I'm not quite sure of what happened for several minutes, but I'm certain that some of it involved kissing and some of it a stupid grin. Sirius took some photographs, in revenge, so he says, for ones she took of him and Remus. Even Severus looked mildly pleased to see me - he and Hermione have just perfected a new kind of potion that gives cover against the unforgiveable curses, and they were testing it amongst themselves. They wanted me to try some, but I'm worried it might interfere with the animagus shield potion: the last thing I need is to accidentally transform into Ron when they do one of their routine animagus sweeps at Voldie's HQ. While on the subject, I think that working with Hermione has been good for Severus. He even spoke quite pleasantly to Sirius, much to my astonishment.
Hermione told me that Draco is now mending, and that he is becoming a beautiful human being, and I am happy for you. You finally have the chance to love openly and freely. That is both the most liberating thing and the most inhibiting thing in the world. My love for Hermione is liberating. When I am with her I know I am loved, absolutely. And I love her, so deeply I cannot express it with mere words. The photograph tells it all. Ask Sirius to show you it when it's printed. It's all there in our eyes as we speak to each other without words. With Hermione, I can do anything, be anything, say anything, want anything, and it's ok.
But our love is also inhibiting. Everyday, I fear for her. I am terrified that she will die, and I will lose my other half. So much of us is twined together that, if she died, I think large portions of me would be ripped out by their roots and wither. I take every chance to be with her. Imagine the regret if I did not make the effort to make every moment together precious. So, today, when I saw her, I threw caution to the winds and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Severus was a bit embarassed, and pushed us into the office, but I don't care about privacy anymore. I don't care who knows what she does for me. I don't care who hears me shout out my love for her, who sees me cry in her hair as she holds me, who knows the depth of the bond between us. I want to tell it to the whole world.
When this is finally over (which I hope will be soon - from what Hermione told me; they've perfected the new charm, too, and the information I gave them today about HQ should be enough for them to plan the attack) Hermione and I are going to get married. We will both shout our love for each other from the rooftops. Literally: we're planning on using voice magnification and saying our vows from on top of a tall building somewhere. We haven't worked out all the kinks yet (do we want to work out all our kinks? No, we're quite fond of some of them). I hope that you and Draco can join us on that day, and stand beside us with all the others who have found love or kept love alive under the shadow. Of course, some of those closest to us will not be there - Neville will not have Percy by his side, Seamus will not have Dean, Minerva will not have Hagrid, Cho will not have Katie, Ernie will not have Hannah. I don't know how they cope with such pain. I'm not certain I could withstand it. But if you are there, whole, happy and with a foolish grin of your own, it will make the day as close to perfect as it could get.
Harry, my best friend, I wish for you the incandescence of love. Love that will light you from the inside out. Love that will illuminate all your hopes and wishes in glorious starlight. I hope Draco can give you that love. If not, I may just have to try my hand at turning him into a ferret. That will learn him.
I love you, Harry.
Ron.
A Letter from Sirius.
Dear Harry,
Please read Ron's letter first. We are sending it with this.These are the hardest lines I have ever had to write. I don't know how to pass on this news.
Just after Ron had finished writing the letter, I burst back into the room where Hermione and Ron were cuddling and whispering, and Severus was mildly glaring. I'd found a tracking device on Wormtail, and expected that Voldemort would waste no time in following us. We swung into action - all necessary stuff has an automatic relocation charm on it as soon as the self-destruct is enabled, so we just had to gather our personal belongings. The Death Eaters arrived just as we finished, and burst into the room, showering us with curses. Fortunately, we had just perfected the anti-unforgiveable potion - but Ron hadn't taken any, and was hit by a stray avada curse. I can't say it more gently - he died instantly.
I'm not sure what happened next. I know that Severus got hit by a particularly nasty gravity curse, and it took me a while to get it off him. Hermione was a blur. She was throwing curses - manic, wild, venomous curses, at the Death Eaters, and I saw them going down. In her other hand she had her throwing stars. I have never seen her use them against a living target before, but she did today. Not one Death Eater was left alive when she finished, between curses and deftly thrown stars. She could scarely stand - she had been hit by about a dozen avada and cruciatus curses, and the potion isn't that strong. She flung herself onto Ron's body. I thought she would die too, but Severus and I managed to get her, Ron, and the bundles of stuff we needed out of there before activating the self destruct. Let that burning hulk in squalid inner London be the funeral pyre of evil.
We came straight to Hogwarts. Ron will be buried here the day after tomorrow. I'm so sorry I can't come to tell you this in person, but I can't leave Hermione. One of Remus, Severus or I are with her constantly. She blames herself - that she didn't make Ron take some of the potion. She is incoherent and nearly insane with grief and guilt. She is slowly calming. So, so slowly.
Please come tomorrow. I know it is unfair to ask you this, when Draco is still so sensitive, but please. We need you. Be prepared, as much as you can, for what you will encounter. I know I have been brutal in my telling, but the truth is brutal in this case. Excuse my tears on the parchment.
Please come, Harry.
Your godfather, Sirius.
Draco speaks.
A letter is always a bright spot in our lives. Months of isolation have had their effect. Harry always lets me read the highly personal letters his friends send, even the ones about me. After a while, I let him read the ones from Severus. We have no secrets, and it feels good. I feel content here, and yet... I want more, but am too afraid to push for it. I want Harry, but am too frightened of my fragility, of his fragility, to ask for him. Could either of us stand it if something went wrong?
He reads the letter from Ron first, laughing out loud over his friend's unquenchable spirits. Who else would call the Dark Lord 'Voldie'? Well, actually, Harry has told me that they all often call him 'Voldie-pants' in jest. I don't know that I ever can though, but at least I don't cringe at the name anymore.
He passes me Ron's letter, and starts to read the one from Sirius. He stops reading suddenly, and turns white. He bites his lip until the blood runs. I touch his shoulder. It is cold and stiff. I put my arms around him.
"What? What is it, Harry?"
"Ron." he says. That is all, and he reads, the tears starting to leak from his eyes. I look over his shoulder, and I turn cold - phrases like 'Death Eaters showering curses' and 'hit by a stray avada curse' jump out at me, and I have no need to read more, and no time either as I save the parchment from the twin fates of being torn to shreds and being drowned in tears.
Harry seems not to notice my presence. He tears himself from my arms and starts to smash things. There is not much to smash - in case I got violent when I first arrived, I guess. I try to take him in my arms, but he pushes me away. He is still raging, tears streaming down his face, fists clenched. At last, he collapses, and I see my chance. I wrap my body around him, and hold him tight. He just melts into me, sobbing, shaking, in my arms. This is a pain I have never been through, that I cannot imagine. I have never had a friend like Ron was to Harry.
I hold on, whispering ridiculous words of comfort into his ears, stroking his back, his shoulders, his hair. I know he cannot hear my words, only my tone, soft and soothing. He is suddenly so small and defenseless, and I feel possesive protectiveness flood through me. No one, no one, will ever get the chance to hurt Harry like this again. I, myself, will hunt them down and kill them, each and every one. Except, the Death Eaters who did this are already dead, at the hands of Hermione.
Gods, Hermione. If I think I am intimate with pain....
Harry's breathing is coming from him in shuddering gasps, but his tears have slowed. I do not loosen my arms from him. I will never let Harry go. He is mine.
I carry him, unresisting, up the stairs. It's a good thing he is as small as me. I lay him down on his bed, and curl around him. He turns into my body, seeking warmth and comfort. I hold him close. This is all I will do, just hold him close. He is too helpless now for me to even think about my crass desires.
Harry kisses me. I open my eyes to see his eyes, damp with tears, looking into mine.
"Draco." he whispers, "Draco, kiss me." Then his lips are on mine again, hot and pleading. I kiss him so, so gently, then lift my head away.
"Harry, I don't think we should..." He stares up at me.
"Why not, Draco? I want you. I need you. I love you." he whimpers in pain. "Please, Draco, please."
"Harry, I can't take advantage of you. You're hurt, you're upset..." But I can't stop my fingers from tracing his lips.
"Draco, life is short. My best friend died today. Do you think we should turn away from what we can give each other? His voice is very small. "I would regret it forever if we didn't do this and you were killed tomorrow."
I cannot resist him, and I recognise the truth in his words. Gently, I pull off his glasses, smooth back his hair, remove his watch. I undress him, watching his eyes. They shine with tears, and I kiss away the few that escape. He is so beautiful, painfully so, as his hurt shows through. I force my hands to move slowly over his body, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers before smoothing the sides back and sliding the sleeves off his arms.I kneel in front of him to remove his socks and trousers, then, hoping my control will not shatter, his underwear too. His body is perfect, lean and agile. He is beautiful. I undress too, and our bodies touch for the first time in five years. But this feels different. The pain and rage are gone, and all that is left is love. This time it is my body that offers comfort. I want to make this last forever.
My hands and lips are light and soothing on his body. He arches up into them, he pleads with me, he is heated and fluid underneath me. I learn that to wring a moan of pleasure from his lips is the most intoxicating wine. Soon, I am drunk on the tastes of his body, drunk on his heady cries of pleasure. I want to make this good enough for him that he will think of nothing but me. I want him to burn with simple passion, a flame that can drive away the shadows. He is mine, and I am his, and I will do whatever it takes. I kiss him everywhere, slow, hot, fevered kisses. My tongue traces his veins, my teeth drag over his skin, my hands, gods, I'm shaking, try desperately to be gentle. I tamp down my desire, the better to concentrate on his shivering, needing body. I want this to be so good that images and feelings of death and destruction will be pushed aside by my love. I want him to fall asleep immediately afterward, safe in my arms, and not wake up until the morning. No nightmares, no guilt, no grief, no pain.
For at least a short time.
I must suceed.
---
Right, well, all feedback welcome, as always. The next few chapters will deal with Hermione and Sirius, who I hope I will be able to capture better than Draco.
Dear Harry,
Today I am at Sirius and Hermione's work, the first time I have seen them for six weeks or so. I am kept busy at the castle - the life of the spy is never easy, even when the spy is an animagus. But I managed to get away today, and for a truly pleasant reason too. You know that Voldie has been tiring of Wormtail. In fact, he has always been amused by the antipathy shown by me, his attack falcon, toward the miserable creature, and long ago promised that I would have the honour of tearing him to pieces. In fact, the promise was made at a dinner where Wormtail just got too obnoxious, and I pulled half his hair out and tore his arms quite badly before being calmed down. The honour finally came, but somehow I stopped myself from killing him there and then, and brought him here instead. Much to Sirius's delight, naturally. Sirius bundled him off to a cell immediately, rubbing his hands with glee at the chance to finally commit that murder.
I can't tell you how amazing it was to see Hermione again. First I felt my eyes light up, then my face, then she was in my arms, and I'm not quite sure of what happened for several minutes, but I'm certain that some of it involved kissing and some of it a stupid grin. Sirius took some photographs, in revenge, so he says, for ones she took of him and Remus. Even Severus looked mildly pleased to see me - he and Hermione have just perfected a new kind of potion that gives cover against the unforgiveable curses, and they were testing it amongst themselves. They wanted me to try some, but I'm worried it might interfere with the animagus shield potion: the last thing I need is to accidentally transform into Ron when they do one of their routine animagus sweeps at Voldie's HQ. While on the subject, I think that working with Hermione has been good for Severus. He even spoke quite pleasantly to Sirius, much to my astonishment.
Hermione told me that Draco is now mending, and that he is becoming a beautiful human being, and I am happy for you. You finally have the chance to love openly and freely. That is both the most liberating thing and the most inhibiting thing in the world. My love for Hermione is liberating. When I am with her I know I am loved, absolutely. And I love her, so deeply I cannot express it with mere words. The photograph tells it all. Ask Sirius to show you it when it's printed. It's all there in our eyes as we speak to each other without words. With Hermione, I can do anything, be anything, say anything, want anything, and it's ok.
But our love is also inhibiting. Everyday, I fear for her. I am terrified that she will die, and I will lose my other half. So much of us is twined together that, if she died, I think large portions of me would be ripped out by their roots and wither. I take every chance to be with her. Imagine the regret if I did not make the effort to make every moment together precious. So, today, when I saw her, I threw caution to the winds and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. Severus was a bit embarassed, and pushed us into the office, but I don't care about privacy anymore. I don't care who knows what she does for me. I don't care who hears me shout out my love for her, who sees me cry in her hair as she holds me, who knows the depth of the bond between us. I want to tell it to the whole world.
When this is finally over (which I hope will be soon - from what Hermione told me; they've perfected the new charm, too, and the information I gave them today about HQ should be enough for them to plan the attack) Hermione and I are going to get married. We will both shout our love for each other from the rooftops. Literally: we're planning on using voice magnification and saying our vows from on top of a tall building somewhere. We haven't worked out all the kinks yet (do we want to work out all our kinks? No, we're quite fond of some of them). I hope that you and Draco can join us on that day, and stand beside us with all the others who have found love or kept love alive under the shadow. Of course, some of those closest to us will not be there - Neville will not have Percy by his side, Seamus will not have Dean, Minerva will not have Hagrid, Cho will not have Katie, Ernie will not have Hannah. I don't know how they cope with such pain. I'm not certain I could withstand it. But if you are there, whole, happy and with a foolish grin of your own, it will make the day as close to perfect as it could get.
Harry, my best friend, I wish for you the incandescence of love. Love that will light you from the inside out. Love that will illuminate all your hopes and wishes in glorious starlight. I hope Draco can give you that love. If not, I may just have to try my hand at turning him into a ferret. That will learn him.
I love you, Harry.
Ron.
A Letter from Sirius.
Dear Harry,
Please read Ron's letter first. We are sending it with this.These are the hardest lines I have ever had to write. I don't know how to pass on this news.
Just after Ron had finished writing the letter, I burst back into the room where Hermione and Ron were cuddling and whispering, and Severus was mildly glaring. I'd found a tracking device on Wormtail, and expected that Voldemort would waste no time in following us. We swung into action - all necessary stuff has an automatic relocation charm on it as soon as the self-destruct is enabled, so we just had to gather our personal belongings. The Death Eaters arrived just as we finished, and burst into the room, showering us with curses. Fortunately, we had just perfected the anti-unforgiveable potion - but Ron hadn't taken any, and was hit by a stray avada curse. I can't say it more gently - he died instantly.
I'm not sure what happened next. I know that Severus got hit by a particularly nasty gravity curse, and it took me a while to get it off him. Hermione was a blur. She was throwing curses - manic, wild, venomous curses, at the Death Eaters, and I saw them going down. In her other hand she had her throwing stars. I have never seen her use them against a living target before, but she did today. Not one Death Eater was left alive when she finished, between curses and deftly thrown stars. She could scarely stand - she had been hit by about a dozen avada and cruciatus curses, and the potion isn't that strong. She flung herself onto Ron's body. I thought she would die too, but Severus and I managed to get her, Ron, and the bundles of stuff we needed out of there before activating the self destruct. Let that burning hulk in squalid inner London be the funeral pyre of evil.
We came straight to Hogwarts. Ron will be buried here the day after tomorrow. I'm so sorry I can't come to tell you this in person, but I can't leave Hermione. One of Remus, Severus or I are with her constantly. She blames herself - that she didn't make Ron take some of the potion. She is incoherent and nearly insane with grief and guilt. She is slowly calming. So, so slowly.
Please come tomorrow. I know it is unfair to ask you this, when Draco is still so sensitive, but please. We need you. Be prepared, as much as you can, for what you will encounter. I know I have been brutal in my telling, but the truth is brutal in this case. Excuse my tears on the parchment.
Please come, Harry.
Your godfather, Sirius.
Draco speaks.
A letter is always a bright spot in our lives. Months of isolation have had their effect. Harry always lets me read the highly personal letters his friends send, even the ones about me. After a while, I let him read the ones from Severus. We have no secrets, and it feels good. I feel content here, and yet... I want more, but am too afraid to push for it. I want Harry, but am too frightened of my fragility, of his fragility, to ask for him. Could either of us stand it if something went wrong?
He reads the letter from Ron first, laughing out loud over his friend's unquenchable spirits. Who else would call the Dark Lord 'Voldie'? Well, actually, Harry has told me that they all often call him 'Voldie-pants' in jest. I don't know that I ever can though, but at least I don't cringe at the name anymore.
He passes me Ron's letter, and starts to read the one from Sirius. He stops reading suddenly, and turns white. He bites his lip until the blood runs. I touch his shoulder. It is cold and stiff. I put my arms around him.
"What? What is it, Harry?"
"Ron." he says. That is all, and he reads, the tears starting to leak from his eyes. I look over his shoulder, and I turn cold - phrases like 'Death Eaters showering curses' and 'hit by a stray avada curse' jump out at me, and I have no need to read more, and no time either as I save the parchment from the twin fates of being torn to shreds and being drowned in tears.
Harry seems not to notice my presence. He tears himself from my arms and starts to smash things. There is not much to smash - in case I got violent when I first arrived, I guess. I try to take him in my arms, but he pushes me away. He is still raging, tears streaming down his face, fists clenched. At last, he collapses, and I see my chance. I wrap my body around him, and hold him tight. He just melts into me, sobbing, shaking, in my arms. This is a pain I have never been through, that I cannot imagine. I have never had a friend like Ron was to Harry.
I hold on, whispering ridiculous words of comfort into his ears, stroking his back, his shoulders, his hair. I know he cannot hear my words, only my tone, soft and soothing. He is suddenly so small and defenseless, and I feel possesive protectiveness flood through me. No one, no one, will ever get the chance to hurt Harry like this again. I, myself, will hunt them down and kill them, each and every one. Except, the Death Eaters who did this are already dead, at the hands of Hermione.
Gods, Hermione. If I think I am intimate with pain....
Harry's breathing is coming from him in shuddering gasps, but his tears have slowed. I do not loosen my arms from him. I will never let Harry go. He is mine.
I carry him, unresisting, up the stairs. It's a good thing he is as small as me. I lay him down on his bed, and curl around him. He turns into my body, seeking warmth and comfort. I hold him close. This is all I will do, just hold him close. He is too helpless now for me to even think about my crass desires.
Harry kisses me. I open my eyes to see his eyes, damp with tears, looking into mine.
"Draco." he whispers, "Draco, kiss me." Then his lips are on mine again, hot and pleading. I kiss him so, so gently, then lift my head away.
"Harry, I don't think we should..." He stares up at me.
"Why not, Draco? I want you. I need you. I love you." he whimpers in pain. "Please, Draco, please."
"Harry, I can't take advantage of you. You're hurt, you're upset..." But I can't stop my fingers from tracing his lips.
"Draco, life is short. My best friend died today. Do you think we should turn away from what we can give each other? His voice is very small. "I would regret it forever if we didn't do this and you were killed tomorrow."
I cannot resist him, and I recognise the truth in his words. Gently, I pull off his glasses, smooth back his hair, remove his watch. I undress him, watching his eyes. They shine with tears, and I kiss away the few that escape. He is so beautiful, painfully so, as his hurt shows through. I force my hands to move slowly over his body, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers before smoothing the sides back and sliding the sleeves off his arms.I kneel in front of him to remove his socks and trousers, then, hoping my control will not shatter, his underwear too. His body is perfect, lean and agile. He is beautiful. I undress too, and our bodies touch for the first time in five years. But this feels different. The pain and rage are gone, and all that is left is love. This time it is my body that offers comfort. I want to make this last forever.
My hands and lips are light and soothing on his body. He arches up into them, he pleads with me, he is heated and fluid underneath me. I learn that to wring a moan of pleasure from his lips is the most intoxicating wine. Soon, I am drunk on the tastes of his body, drunk on his heady cries of pleasure. I want to make this good enough for him that he will think of nothing but me. I want him to burn with simple passion, a flame that can drive away the shadows. He is mine, and I am his, and I will do whatever it takes. I kiss him everywhere, slow, hot, fevered kisses. My tongue traces his veins, my teeth drag over his skin, my hands, gods, I'm shaking, try desperately to be gentle. I tamp down my desire, the better to concentrate on his shivering, needing body. I want this to be so good that images and feelings of death and destruction will be pushed aside by my love. I want him to fall asleep immediately afterward, safe in my arms, and not wake up until the morning. No nightmares, no guilt, no grief, no pain.
For at least a short time.
I must suceed.
---
Right, well, all feedback welcome, as always. The next few chapters will deal with Hermione and Sirius, who I hope I will be able to capture better than Draco.