Sorry about the delay. A Driver's License really does equate with freedom.
DISCLAIMER: Not JK. Not from WarnerBros., Bloomsbury, or Scholastic. Just a fan girl with too much time on her hands. Making no money off this, because all of my income comes from HersheyPark. If you would like to pay my car insurance, however, feel free to let me know in your review.
Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed. I hope you like it so far. Especially to:
MadameMalkin: No worries. I feel like I never stop writing some times, though I've slacking lately. There is definitely more to come from me, and not just with this story.
Cori: It doesn't take that long to be updated. Just a week. A little more when I go away, or decide to spend my day listening to Maroon5 and/or cruising.
Daisy8781: I will try not to let arguments get t o me, and lately it hasn't. Am just a bit peeved lately with some of the reviews I have received. Used Die Hard!Alan effectively for treatment. Am now walking around thinking of "Yippie-ki-yay, motha-fuckah."
Starlett Malfoy: Thank you for the nice review. I don't know what part to comment on, but your review cheered me up. Glad you love it.
Rennie: Writing the disclaimers is one of my favorite parts about updating, sadly enough. Story is long since written, but I'm still updating, aren't I? Ha well . . . The topic of self harm is not terribly close to me. I've been in depression funks, something that is genetic for me, but I've never cut myself to deal with it. I don't think I've ever known a cutter, either. Sorry about having problems with Ron fantasies. He is a gorgeous boy. You're missing out. :-P
Harmoni: Am ignoring silly bints who know little to nothing about Mary Sue. Was just in bad mood when posted last chapter. All is now good.
Skyshifter: Excuse me a moment while I admire your name. ::admiring:: Very nice. Pay back will be coming. Yes, indeed.
Tine: Another long, gorgeous review. Thank you. I have such problems with homophobia, and I'm often getting into arguments with people about it, and it's unsettling, the amount of people who do not accept homosexuals. My family is a big lot of them. I think it's one of the reasons I bring it into my stories so often, with the exception of Overheard, where I basically ignored it, and in Life Left Behind, because everyone is a freak in New York (am going back again this summer!). Thank you for reading this story, and loving it, because I feel that you often look at this story the way that I do. Something to make you think. I appreciate that. Being a good reader is just as difficult as being a good writer, but you do it so well.
The Insane Floo Pot: Thanks so much. Homophobia is a topic I like to tackle, because it is so real, and it does hurt so much. There's no way in avoiding it, and this was my place to start bringing it up. From now on, its an entirely new battle for Draco. Unfortunately, it may lead to the same results.
Um, may be imagining things, but am pretty sure someone wrote something about Goyle being too articulate. Could have dreamed it as I am not able to find said review, but if it was left by you, I just want to say that my portrayal of Goyle, Crabbe (who is coming), and Pansy are all how I've seen them. I've always thought that Crabbe and Goyle were much smarter than people give them credit for, and maybe with a bit of a hidden agenda, even from Draco. So . . . that's where I ran with this. Things aren't always what they seem.
Part Thirty-Four: Beautiful
Dinner had been more of less of a non-event, as Harry had forced Draco to sit with him during the meal and everyone said very little as they ate. Hermione had been informed of what happened with Blaise in the infirmary, and the first thing she had done upon hearing the news was to wrap Draco in a big hug, swearing that she, too, would be there for him anytime he needed a friend. Even Servius had been strangely quiet, though he said nothing. Draco figured it was a big feat for the boy as this was the first time since his arrival that Servius had been quiet for more than five minutes.
Now, meals were over and while most students were heading to Quidditch practice or their common rooms, Harry and Draco walked hand in hand to their shelter on the fifth floor. They slipped away from the crowded hallways into the deserted, familiar one, and Harry eased open the door, leaving just enough space for them both to slip in unnoticed if someone should happen to wander by. Once the door was closed, Draco collapsed on the sofa he had transfigured there, and buried his face into the cushions, forcing the saline that threatened his eyes to return to its origin. He didn't want to cry again. Not now.
"I meant what I said back there," Harry interrupted, leaning against the jamb of the door, and watching Draco's body quiver on the sofa. He wanted to go to him, put his arms around him and soothe him until his limbs stopped shaking, but he stayed by the door, afraid to touch him, afraid that a single touch would shatter him.
"Meant what?" came Draco's muffled reply through the thick material of the cushions.
Harry's lips twitched as he began to form a reply, but the words got caught in his throat. "Can I hold you?" he said instead.
Rolling onto his side, Draco leaned against the back of the couch and stared at Harry, blinking slowly. His throat felt tight, painfully restricted. Unable to form words and not sure if they would even make their way through his constricted throat, Draco nodded.
Harry made his way over to the sofa, and Draco maneuvered his body so that his upper body was nestled in Harry's lap. He could feel Harry's long, slender fingers running through his hair, brushing against his scalp with the most gentle of touches. There was so much tenderness, so much compassion in those delicate touches that Draco could feel the tight sensation spreading to his chest, making it almost painful to breathe.
"What were you saying?" Draco finally said, his words sounding choked.
"Oh," said Harry, a soft and embarrassed laugh sounding from his slightly parted lips. The sight, the sound made Draco smile ever so slightly. "I meant what I said earlier. I love you. It seemed like a good time to tell you."
"For someone who's so bad with timing, it was nothing short of a miracle," said Draco, hoping to sound more smooth than corny. From the way things sounded on his end, he had failed miserably. "I love you, too."
Bending over him, Harry brushed his lips against Draco's, capturing them as his own in a fleeting gesture that seemed over before it even began.
"I just want to hold you here forever," said Harry. The emotion in his voice almost made him sound desperate and the effect on Draco was intense, causing him to choke on his own breath. "Don't worry about me, Draco. You said it yourself. No one is going to let them get to me. You just can't let them get to you. You're the one I'm worried about." Draco tried to smile but the grimace that resulted caused Harry's heart to tense in his chest. "Don't look so miserable."
"How?" asked Draco, strained. "I don't remember how to be happy."
"Yes, you do. I know you do. You were happy just this morning. You were going back to classes. Don't let them do this to you, Draco. You're stronger than this, and if you're falling, I'm here to catch you."
"What if they're right? What if it is my fault? If I had just died -"
"Stop it, Draco," Harry snapped, now on the verge of crying himself through frustration and fear. "I know they're wrong and I know that somewhere in you, you know they're wrong, too. I don't want to hear you talking about what would have happened if you had died."
"But, Harry -"
"No, Draco. There are no exceptions to this. You didn't die. You weren't supposed to die. Do you want to know what would have happened if you would have died? Your father wouldn't have told you that he loved you. He wouldn't have turned himself into Azkaban."
"He'd still be alive and the dementors wouldn't have gotten him," shrieked Draco, but Harry continued, unfazed.
"The information that your father gave the ministry wouldn't have been received. The Death Eaters that were supposed to attack Hogwarts wouldn't have been caught. Dumbledore wouldn't have been tipped off about Voldemort's whereabouts. We wouldn't have known that Voldemort was onto Snape, and Kali would have lost her father. I'd be dead, too, because no one would have told the ministry when Voldemort was coming for me."
"Stop it, Harry," Draco wailed, burying his head in Harry's chest. "Just stop it, Harry!"
"That's how I feel every time you start in on what it would be like if you were dead. I can't imagine losing you, Draco. It's painful to think about. Don't force it on me."
"I'm sorry," he said into Harry's chest, his chest rising and falling in time with his ragged, heavy breathing. Beneath his fingertips, Harry could feel Draco's pulse racing and he knew that he was close to hyperventilating.
Running a hand over Draco's head, smoothing back his hair, Harry whispered, "Shh, Draco. It's okay. I'm sorry. I love you so much, Draco. I hate that they hurt you. I hate it when anyone makes you feel like you don't deserve to be here. I need you and you don't seem to realize it. I couldn't take it if you weren't here."
"I love you," replied Draco, still clutching wildly at Harry and sobbing. "I hate it, too. I hate them for making me feel like this. I hate myself for letting them make me feel like this. I hate myself for believing them, and I hate them for even saying something so foul in the first place. It is not my fault, and I hate it when anyone makes me feel like it is, but I just let them, Harry. Why do I do that?"
"I don't know, Draco. We all do things we can't understand. I guess that's just the cross you have to bear."
"Why did this happen to me, Harry?" Harry was silent, staring at Draco without being able to find an answer that didn't seem empty. "Why did this happen?" repeated Draco. "And don't even tell me that everything happens for a reason. I'm sick of hearing that happy 'everything happens for a fucking reason' bullshit. What was my reason, Harry? Why did this have to get dumped on me? What did I do that was so awful that it served to give me my father and then rip him away from me?" demanded Draco, his voice so strained that it hurt Harry just to hear it. "What could I have possibly done to deserve something so awful?"
"I can't give you an answer," said Harry, finally. "I can't give you an answer, and I feel so guilty that I have nothing to say to you. You're right. It is unfair. Everything about this forsaken world is unfair. It isn't right that you lost your father, and it especially isn't right in the way it happened. Its one thing for a person to die, and its another for them to keep on living without a soul. It isn't right for someone to lose their parents before they're even old enough to remember them. It isn't right when that one incident, something that was out of a person's control, condemns them to a childhood of living with people who hate him and pin him as number one target of a murderer."
"Guess we're just two wounded souls who found each other, eh?" said Draco, weak. Harry, equally weak, laughed and nodded.
"I suppose so. No one else could understand us. We had to find someone equally fucked up."
"You know," started Draco, "my grandmother still goes to see my father up at Saint Mungo's. I don't know how she does it. My mum says that she's trying to hold on to him since she already lost her husband years and years ago."
"You don't have to talk about this, Draco," said Harry.
"Yes, I do," he replied. "I need to talk about this. I need you to listen. Will you?"
Nodding, Harry said, "Of course, love," and momentarily brushed his lips across Draco's.
"My mother, she seems to be the only one who understands. Before my father died, I barely knew any of my family, but when he was sent to Saint Mungo's . . . the whole lot seemed to come around. I went to visit him once. It was right after it happened, just after school let out. That finally broke me, Harry. Before that, I was still holding on to that notion that everyone is so quick to tell me. I wanted to believe that he wasn't really dead. As soon as I saw him, though - I knew, Harry. That thing wasn't my father. My mother cried, but all I could do was stare at him staring back at me. He didn't know me. After everything we had just gone through, crying together and holding each other, he didn't know me. I remember feeling so guilty that I couldn't cry. I yelled at my grandmother, told her that he was dead. That it wasn't really my father.
"She still won't speak to me. She goes to visit him once a week and the last thing she said to me was that I was a spoiled, ungrateful little brat. She forgives my mother because mum told her that it's too painful to see him, but I'm an ungrateful little brat. Even my aunt, Livia, has been here from Greece twice since it happened. My grandmother makes it a point to talk about it loudly whenever we're near each other. I wasn't invited to spend Christmas with her, but my Uncle Caligula was there. He's my father's brother and I never even met him until after it happened because he and my father weren't speaking. Uncle Caligula goes with Aunt Circe once a month to see him."
"You've got quite a family," interrupted Harry.
"And I never even met them until after. All I knew when he was still around was my grandmother, Aunt Livia, and Snape."
Harry's face took on a look of surprise and then realization. "For a moment there, I forgot you were related to Snape."
"He was my father's cousin and I always called him 'Uncle Sev' when I was little. He hates it now. I think its because it was my father's and Kailah's mum's nickname for him. Aunt Circe is Snape's mother."
"It's strange to think Snape has a mother."
"He has a father, too," said Draco, teasingly. "Contrary to popular belief, a stork didn't just drop him in the Hogwarts dungeons, full-grown, with an extensive knowledge of Potions."
"All right, you," said Harry, playfully swatting Draco on the arm.
"Aunt Circe keeps telling me not to worry about my grandmother. She's not happy with Snape, either, because he won't go see my father. The only reason Aunt Circe goes is to make Grandmother happy. She writes me twice a month, sends me sweets, tells me to keep positive. She wanted to come see me when I was in the infirmary, but I think Snape threw a hissy fit or something because she said that he did not want her company at school. It's hard to keep positive."
"I mean what I said," whispered Harry, tightening his hold around Draco's torso and pulling him closer into his heat. "I'll always be here to catch you if you fall. You've got more people looking out for you than you realize. We all told you so back in the hospital wing."
"I know," said Draco, breathing out his words. "I don't deserve to have you all for friends. David barely knows me, and I got his boyfriend pummeled, but he's still standing there by me. Before September, Kailah only knew me as an estranged cousin through letters and photographs that our mothers stopped sending when we were ten. I knew her as Uncle Sev's daughter in America. I've got to admit, though, what you said meant a lot to me, but what Ron said meant more."
Harry took on a look of mock indignation. "You've got to be kidding me! Ron! The one who said that there was nothing wrong with you because I have good taste judging by who I chose for my best friend?"
"The one and the same. I don't know how he can even come near me with the things I've said about his family. I don't know how you can touch me with the things I've done to all three of you."
"Because I love you," said Harry, pressing his lips to Draco's forehead.
"Good answer." Draco returned Harry's grin as he rearranged his upper body in Harry's arms. "When I was little, Uncle Sev used to come around a lot."
"He's 'Uncle Sev' now?"
"Well, he was Uncle Sev to me at that time and so he automatically becomes Uncle Sev in the context."
"Fair enough. Continue."
"Anyway, Uncle Sev used to come around all the time. He and my father were still friends back then, not as much as they were before I was born, however. I remember asking him why Kailah had to live so far away. He told me it was because he did some bad things and that Kailah might get hurt if she was here. I got so scared because he was my uncle and maybe that meant I could get hurt, too. I must have been four or five at the time. I wouldn't leave the manor and my father had to make Uncle Sev come back and tell me that I was okay. He told me that my father never did bad things so I wouldn't get hurt." Draco gave a short laugh. "Imagine that. My father never doing bad things.
"Anyway, as I grew up, I knew that my father studied dark magic but I never even heard Voldemort's name until I was nine. I asked my father why he never told me and he said, 'It doesn't concern you, Draco.' I took that as a good enough answer. Of course it doesn't concern me. My father never did bad things and the other kids told me that Voldemort, or You-Know-Who at the time, was a very bad man.
"Right before I came to Hogwarts, I heard that my father had been accused of being a Death Eater but the charges were cleared. I didn't understand how anyone could think that. Sure, my father practiced the dark arts but I had only ever seen him use them once when he used the Cruciatus curse on me."
"He used Cruciatus on you?"
Draco laughed at this and answered, "Yeah, I asked him why the big kids made fun of me for kissing a boy."
Trying not to laugh as well, Harry said, "Oh. Starting young, were you?"
"How was I supposed to know I wasn't supposed to do that? Girls kissed other girls. Why couldn't I kiss other boys? I was only ten."
"So he used Cruciatus on you?"
Draco nodded. "I figured I must have done something really bad because my father would never hurt me otherwise. My mother always told me that he loved me. He was just a busy man. She always said that he didn't have time for anyone. It took me until my second year here that I realized she was trying to reassure herself more than me.
"Right before I came to Hogwarts, my father explained a lot about the first war with Voldemort. Your name came up a few times. Before that, I had never heard my father say anything negative about Dumbledore. I was told that muggles couldn't be trusted. He told me all about the witch persecutions. He never told me that he had been a Death Eater. I thought he had been neutral because he didn't like Dumbledore, but he didn't say anything about you or Voldemort. He only told me what had happened. He told me about how he had been accused but acquitted of being a Death Eater and that some families, namely the Weasleys, didn't believe that we were innocent."
"And so your hate of Ron's family begins."
"Exactly. The Weasleys were poor, so they must be stupid if they don't even know how to get money or when to stop having children. I thought that they really must be stupid if they thought my father would have anything to do with Voldemort. I suppose I'm the one who was being stupid."
"No, you weren't." Harry began to brush his lips over Draco's forehead, leaving tiny kisses as he went. "You weren't being stupid," he said between the kisses. "You were just listening to your father. It's completely understandable."
"I hated you so much, Harry," continued Draco. "The first time I met you, I told my father about it, and he was furious with me for not getting your name or properly introducing myself. He said that I was an embarrassment to our family. For the few weeks before Hogwarts, he made me practice what he called 'proper social conduct.' I wanted to find you on the train, introduce myself properly and redeem myself. My father kept telling me I was superior to the other students and that if anyone tried to say a Malfoy was inferior, I was to let them know their place."
"No wonder you were so arrogant. Your ego didn't need feeding."
"I wanted to meet you so badly. Everyone was talking about Harry Potter and he was starting at Hogwarts. I was so excited because we were going to be in the same year. Then I saw it was you, the same person my father said I had embarrassed our family in front of."
"Sorry."
"I was so mad at you. The pressure doubled because you weren't just the boy I had to redeem myself to, but you were Harry Potter, too. Then I saw that you were sitting with one of the Weasleys and I hated him even more than I did before. I tried to redeem myself, properly introduce myself, and he laughed at me. He made me feel inferior, and so I put him in his place. It didn't please you."
"To say the least," answered Harry, capturing Draco's lips. "You did come on rather strong, it just wasn't in a good way."
"You made me look like a fool in front of a Weasley and I hated you for it. I figured that perhaps my father was right. Perhaps I just was an embarrassment."
"I love you."
"I can't imagine why."
"I'm sorry I made you feel inferior."
"I'm sorry I thought I was superior."
"But you are."
"I thought my ego didn't need feeding."
"Not back then, though I think it may now be starved."
"What do you see in me, Harry?" asked Draco, catching Harry's eyes and refusing to look away. "Why, after everything I've done to them, are Ron and Blaise still promising to take out anyone who hurts me?"
"Because of what you said before, Draco. What happened to you is awful, it's unfair, and no one deserves to be treated like that. Especially not someone who is as sweet as you are."
"It's pity?"
"It's compassion."
"Same thing."
"Not entirely."
Draco's eyelids fluttered as he felt Harry's lips brush against his own in a sweet, searing kiss. Harry's fingers were in his hair, running through the strands. Channeling his pain and anger into love and passion, Draco ran his hands along Harry's back, feeling the muscles and bones shift beneath his touch through the thin material. He could feel Harry's hands moving along his body, down his neck, across his chest, along his sides. A familiar ache settled in his stomach, a tightening in his groin, and Draco moaned as Harry shifted to fully lay above him.
"I love you," Harry mumbled as they undressed each other.
Draco gasped when he first felt Harry's sweaty flesh sliding across his own. Just the sensation of their erections brushing, the source of all this sudden heat, was enough to make Draco's mind go blank. Thought soon returned upon feeling Harry's fingers brushing across his chest and Draco looked up to see Harry staring at his scarred flesh, running his fingers along those self-inflicted wounds that Draco hated so much to see.
The desire to speak, to run away and never let Harry see those constant reminders, was about ready to overpower his desire to make love. Harry interrupted his thoughts by leaning down and placing a solitary, gentle kiss to that one scar that had been a wound Draco couldn't close up on his own. The muscles in Draco's back had gone taut and he choked on oxygen upon seeing that, when Harry looked up at him, there were tears in his eyes.
"I'm so proud to be here with you like this," Harry choked out. "I love you, Draco. I don't ever want to lose you."
Reaching out in one slow, languid movement, Draco removed Harry's glasses and set them aside. He pulled Harry to him, their bodies perfectly aligned and fitting snugly into each other, and captured Harry's lips with his own.
"I don't deserve you," whispered Draco, pressing their foreheads together.
"That makes two of us."
Draco formed a weak smile. "You really love me."
Nodding, Harry replied, "Let me show you."
"Okay."
Through tears of love and cries of euphoria, they made love, entering each other and exploring each other's bodies, going to places they had never gone before. Draco came first, prompting Harry into his own release. After, they held each other, trembling and exchanging words of their deepest feelings. They fell asleep like that, in each other's arms, completely stripped both physically and emotionally.
I hope you're all happy. *stares pointedly*
Next chapter: Enough. Blaise out of the hospital wing, a confrontation between Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry takes on the Slytherins.
