I dreamt all night of Draco leaning over me like Salomé, my head severing
itself from my panting body. When I woke up, I had a terrible headache and
so closed the curtains and paced the floor, two voices in my head
quarreling.
"It cannot be sin. Mankind is fashioned in God's image. Would He create a few of His children like this, without a choice in this matter, only to then damn them?"
"Lecher! Dante reserved our kind a place in Hell! He in his brilliance condemned sodomites!"
"I cannot dictate my pleasures according to a dead Papist, brilliant or not."
"Papists and Quakers recognize the same sins."
"But is God not love?"
That last thought echoed in my mind for some time. When the house slave went near my door during his morning tasks, I informed him that I would not be attending breakfast, and would like only a pot of coffee brought up to me. To face Draco at this hour would have been simply out of the question.
When the slave left, I sat down in the chair at my desk and ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily distracted by its intractability. I rustled around some of the papers on my desk, tracing my fingers over Draco's elegant penmanship. A few minutes later, the house slave returned with a coffee service and poured me a cup.
"Did your letter bring unpleasant news, Master Potter?" the house slave asked cautiously, noticing my agitation.
"My letter! I hadn't finished reading it; I was interrupted," I replied, having forgotten the letter altogether.
"Then you may wish to read it, Master Potter. It may comfort you," he said simply. With that, he exited the room.
I snatched the letter from under a small pile of uncorrected essays and turned to the second page.
I must confess something to thee, the gravity of which may be far greater than my spiritual alterations. I beg of thee to not judge me too harshly in your heart.
Around the time when thy father became involved with Miss Evans, Remus and I became quite close friends. We were inseparable companions until around the date of my arrest, at which time Remus left New Surrey to be treated in a sanitarium for a bad fit, he having been diagnosed with a rare form of epilepsy as a small child. A month ago, after nearly twenty years of separation, he wrote to me to say that the affection and kinship he felt for me when we were young men had not died, and he desired intensely to see me. I replied indicating my natural great concern for his health, but he informed me that he now underwent a physick that eased considerably the trauma of his fits. Such worries allayed, I bade him to come to New Surrey. Shortly after his arrival, I then invited Remus to live with me, and he gladly accepted. If my meaning is not yet clear, I shall write in plainly: Doctor Lupin and I love one another deeply, and we intend to spend our lives devoted to one another, just as an ordinary married couple would.
I am well-acquainted with the Gospel teachings forbidding my love for Remus, but I have realized that God loves all of His children, especially those who are kind and loving to one another. We have spoken with the Universalist minister on this matter, and he gave us his blessing.
I know what a shock all of this must be to thee, but I hope that with time, thou shall accept us as thy family. Thou art the nearest thing I shall ever have to a son, and it would kill me to have thee despise me. I pray to remain,
Thy loving Godfather,
Sirius Black
I read the letter three more times to be sure I was not mistaken. I was not. Shaking, I drank my cup of coffee and poured myself another. I could not begin to describe my shock, my joy. My own godfather had undergone the very same agonies and torments I had been undergoing for the past few years, except for so much longer. As I finished another cup of coffee, a great feeling of calm seemed to break over me. I gathered my papers and walked to Draco's room.
Draco was semi-reclined on the window seat, gazing out into the morning. He was still wearing manascar, and from the look of it, he had spent all night in the position he was in. I moved towards him.
"Draco?" I asked.
"Well, now you know," he responded flatly, still looking out the window.
I felt tears in my eyes but said nothing, only stood there, looking at Draco's profile with a seething longing.
"I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me," I said. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes upon, and stolen rouge doesn't change that either for better or for worst. I have lain awake half the night sorting out my emotions, and I've concluded that all secrets are the same. You dress as a woman, and I am a seventeen and an abolitionist."
"You're an abolitionist?!" Draco asked, turning around, shocked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why ever on Earth?" he asked.
"Because I believe that God has created us all equal in His image, and no laws of men should affect that," I replied, my confidence growing.
"But niggers, they're like animals!" he cried.
"Then we all are. Don't you see? Our hatreds are all the same. If we were to kiss in the town square of Durmstrang, we'd be spat upon, perhaps even killed. How is that different from a Negro also asserting the needs of his soul?" I responded, all my beliefs now perfectly clear to me.
"Good Lord, I don't know anymore," Draco whispered, beginning to cry. I sat beside him and put my arms around him. "This whole world's a mess, with right and wrong sharing the same bed. Do you know what my father does to our slaves?"
"What?" I asked.
"Unspeakable things. The whippings. He makes me watch." Draco replied. "Nobody deserves those. They rip up the skin."
My heart pained at the mention of such atrocities. "Nobody deserves to be bought and sold like a parcel of land," I said quietly.
Draco dried his eyes on his dressing-robe. We remained curled up at the window for several minutes, unspeaking. Then he kissed me and smiled. "I knew you weren't two-and-twenty," he said.
"Well, I knew you weren't really a heartless sadist," I replied, also smiling.
When the house slave was again nearby, I disentangled myself from Draco and ordered up some breakfast. When it arrived, we crawled into Draco's bed and ate it, kissing the honey from one another's mouths.
"If God would one morning make you a woman in body," I asked Draco later. "Would you be content?"
"No," he replied. "I would be entirely too soft and curved, which would not suit me in the least. I am in particular completely satisfied with certain masculine...aspects of my body. I simply happen to have a strong disdain towards wearing male clothing. It makes me no less of a man, I believe. And besides, I look rather fetching in ladies' garments, don't you agree?"
"Lovelier than any lady," I replied.
"You're only saying that because you don't find ladies lovely," Draco remarked.
"True, but nonetheless...!" I stammered.
"Hmm..." Draco mused with a wicked smile. "Well, Harry, you're undoubtedly lovely too, in a masculine sort of way."
"You're still masculine," I protested.
"In spite of the dislike for athletics, affinity for cooking, and tendency towards wearing gowns when left unattended," he said with a smile.
"Exactly", I replied.
What seemed to be but a moment later, the lunch bell rang. I kissed Draco on the forehead and removed myself from his bed. As I put on my waistcoat and jacket, he washed the manascar from his face and dressed. The scene felt oddly domestic, even ritual despite its infancy.
I walked down to the dining room a full few minutes ahead of Draco.
"My apologies, Mister Malfoy, for my absence at breakfast. I awoke with a terrible headache and could take only coffee," I said.
"Of course, Mister Potter. We wouldn't dream of obliging you to breakfast with us in such a state," he drawled, turning his eyes to Draco coming down the stairs. "Such would be...unmannerly."
"Are you certain you are now well?" Narcissa asked me.
"Thank you for your concern, madam. A headache did plague me all this night and for some of the morning, but I have recovered just recently and feel considerably better," I replied.
"It cannot be sin. Mankind is fashioned in God's image. Would He create a few of His children like this, without a choice in this matter, only to then damn them?"
"Lecher! Dante reserved our kind a place in Hell! He in his brilliance condemned sodomites!"
"I cannot dictate my pleasures according to a dead Papist, brilliant or not."
"Papists and Quakers recognize the same sins."
"But is God not love?"
That last thought echoed in my mind for some time. When the house slave went near my door during his morning tasks, I informed him that I would not be attending breakfast, and would like only a pot of coffee brought up to me. To face Draco at this hour would have been simply out of the question.
When the slave left, I sat down in the chair at my desk and ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily distracted by its intractability. I rustled around some of the papers on my desk, tracing my fingers over Draco's elegant penmanship. A few minutes later, the house slave returned with a coffee service and poured me a cup.
"Did your letter bring unpleasant news, Master Potter?" the house slave asked cautiously, noticing my agitation.
"My letter! I hadn't finished reading it; I was interrupted," I replied, having forgotten the letter altogether.
"Then you may wish to read it, Master Potter. It may comfort you," he said simply. With that, he exited the room.
I snatched the letter from under a small pile of uncorrected essays and turned to the second page.
I must confess something to thee, the gravity of which may be far greater than my spiritual alterations. I beg of thee to not judge me too harshly in your heart.
Around the time when thy father became involved with Miss Evans, Remus and I became quite close friends. We were inseparable companions until around the date of my arrest, at which time Remus left New Surrey to be treated in a sanitarium for a bad fit, he having been diagnosed with a rare form of epilepsy as a small child. A month ago, after nearly twenty years of separation, he wrote to me to say that the affection and kinship he felt for me when we were young men had not died, and he desired intensely to see me. I replied indicating my natural great concern for his health, but he informed me that he now underwent a physick that eased considerably the trauma of his fits. Such worries allayed, I bade him to come to New Surrey. Shortly after his arrival, I then invited Remus to live with me, and he gladly accepted. If my meaning is not yet clear, I shall write in plainly: Doctor Lupin and I love one another deeply, and we intend to spend our lives devoted to one another, just as an ordinary married couple would.
I am well-acquainted with the Gospel teachings forbidding my love for Remus, but I have realized that God loves all of His children, especially those who are kind and loving to one another. We have spoken with the Universalist minister on this matter, and he gave us his blessing.
I know what a shock all of this must be to thee, but I hope that with time, thou shall accept us as thy family. Thou art the nearest thing I shall ever have to a son, and it would kill me to have thee despise me. I pray to remain,
Thy loving Godfather,
Sirius Black
I read the letter three more times to be sure I was not mistaken. I was not. Shaking, I drank my cup of coffee and poured myself another. I could not begin to describe my shock, my joy. My own godfather had undergone the very same agonies and torments I had been undergoing for the past few years, except for so much longer. As I finished another cup of coffee, a great feeling of calm seemed to break over me. I gathered my papers and walked to Draco's room.
Draco was semi-reclined on the window seat, gazing out into the morning. He was still wearing manascar, and from the look of it, he had spent all night in the position he was in. I moved towards him.
"Draco?" I asked.
"Well, now you know," he responded flatly, still looking out the window.
I felt tears in my eyes but said nothing, only stood there, looking at Draco's profile with a seething longing.
"I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me," I said. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes upon, and stolen rouge doesn't change that either for better or for worst. I have lain awake half the night sorting out my emotions, and I've concluded that all secrets are the same. You dress as a woman, and I am a seventeen and an abolitionist."
"You're an abolitionist?!" Draco asked, turning around, shocked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Why ever on Earth?" he asked.
"Because I believe that God has created us all equal in His image, and no laws of men should affect that," I replied, my confidence growing.
"But niggers, they're like animals!" he cried.
"Then we all are. Don't you see? Our hatreds are all the same. If we were to kiss in the town square of Durmstrang, we'd be spat upon, perhaps even killed. How is that different from a Negro also asserting the needs of his soul?" I responded, all my beliefs now perfectly clear to me.
"Good Lord, I don't know anymore," Draco whispered, beginning to cry. I sat beside him and put my arms around him. "This whole world's a mess, with right and wrong sharing the same bed. Do you know what my father does to our slaves?"
"What?" I asked.
"Unspeakable things. The whippings. He makes me watch." Draco replied. "Nobody deserves those. They rip up the skin."
My heart pained at the mention of such atrocities. "Nobody deserves to be bought and sold like a parcel of land," I said quietly.
Draco dried his eyes on his dressing-robe. We remained curled up at the window for several minutes, unspeaking. Then he kissed me and smiled. "I knew you weren't two-and-twenty," he said.
"Well, I knew you weren't really a heartless sadist," I replied, also smiling.
When the house slave was again nearby, I disentangled myself from Draco and ordered up some breakfast. When it arrived, we crawled into Draco's bed and ate it, kissing the honey from one another's mouths.
"If God would one morning make you a woman in body," I asked Draco later. "Would you be content?"
"No," he replied. "I would be entirely too soft and curved, which would not suit me in the least. I am in particular completely satisfied with certain masculine...aspects of my body. I simply happen to have a strong disdain towards wearing male clothing. It makes me no less of a man, I believe. And besides, I look rather fetching in ladies' garments, don't you agree?"
"Lovelier than any lady," I replied.
"You're only saying that because you don't find ladies lovely," Draco remarked.
"True, but nonetheless...!" I stammered.
"Hmm..." Draco mused with a wicked smile. "Well, Harry, you're undoubtedly lovely too, in a masculine sort of way."
"You're still masculine," I protested.
"In spite of the dislike for athletics, affinity for cooking, and tendency towards wearing gowns when left unattended," he said with a smile.
"Exactly", I replied.
What seemed to be but a moment later, the lunch bell rang. I kissed Draco on the forehead and removed myself from his bed. As I put on my waistcoat and jacket, he washed the manascar from his face and dressed. The scene felt oddly domestic, even ritual despite its infancy.
I walked down to the dining room a full few minutes ahead of Draco.
"My apologies, Mister Malfoy, for my absence at breakfast. I awoke with a terrible headache and could take only coffee," I said.
"Of course, Mister Potter. We wouldn't dream of obliging you to breakfast with us in such a state," he drawled, turning his eyes to Draco coming down the stairs. "Such would be...unmannerly."
"Are you certain you are now well?" Narcissa asked me.
"Thank you for your concern, madam. A headache did plague me all this night and for some of the morning, but I have recovered just recently and feel considerably better," I replied.