A/N: I've found these things almost as addicting to write, as they are to
read. So, here I sit at my laptop with chapter sketches and plot ideas
hoping the words will flow. I'm really crossing my fingers that this works
out the way I want it to. None of my original fiction has gotten off the
ground, and in this I've found real inspiration.
Amadea Malfoy: Thank you for the review! Tell me where to send it and I would love to have your help! I always hate it when I miss things, but after something has been written I tend to skim over the little bits to make sure the big bits make sense. My failing, I know. I really hope you like this!
As Draco left the room Harry felt a pang of something. ~I'll worry about that later~ He thought, and he gave his next unpleasant task his full attention.
"Mione, I know," he began, but was cut short.
"Harry, he's made his choice. He made it ten years ago. I can't sit by and wait for him to come back to us. I won't." A tear gleamed at the corner of her eye and fell unheeded down her cheek.
Harry reached over, wiping the tear from her chin where it sat on the brink of oblivion, and pulled Hermione onto his lap. He needed to comfort her almost as much as she needed the comfort. "Mione, I do know. Or, I don't. He was your husband, and only my friend. I understand as much as anyone can how much this hurts, it's just..." At this all Harry wanted to do was let his own tears fall, but knew he couldn't. If he was crying now he'd never get all this out. "Mione, I've seen him. He's a shell of what he used to be, a red-haired husk of Ron. He's waiting for someone to save him. I just, I need to do what I can."
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Harry, do what you have to, just don't give him any false hopes where Samantha and I are concerned."
Harry's own tears were free falling now. He set her down on the couch and began to stalk the room. "Do you honestly think I'd give him that? He has no right, none at all to make demands on you or Samantha. I'm talking about his life, Mione, that's all. After he has that he can go rot in coldest darkest hole in Hell, I may even dig it for him. I just can't let him go on this way. Knowing that I could have saved him, but I couldn't have saved them both Mione, and I knew he would live..." He looked at Hermione, his face filled with pain, "Mione I'm so sorry I ruined your family."
"Don't you dare, don't you even think to apologize for saving him, Harry Potter. I won't let you. Ron did this, all of this, to himself." And she was lost to shoulder jerking sobs. Harry, realizing there was a pain worse than his own right in front of him, stopped crying and held Hermione to his chest, whispering soothing words as she calmed down. Soon she was sleeping peacefully, and Harry picked her up and carried her the short trip across the hall to her rooms. There he put her to bed and went to check on the ever hyper Samantha. She was sleeping soundly, a soft smile on her mouth, and Harry was glad that at least one Weasley had survived the war almost unscathed.
Harry had quickly forgotten the momentary pang. Now he was dealing with the past, an ominous threat that was always stalking him, and it left no room for wayward feelings. As he lay in bed he remembered that last battle. Once he had thought it a distant memory, but now it felt closer than it had the morning after. Not a legend to be told generations from now, but a first hand account of when good and evil blurred, and the choice between what is right and what is easy mattered not at all. Harry was transported back into a time when a person had to choose between kill or be killed, the day when Harry Potter had chosen to stain his soul with the blackest deed, for wizards and muggles everywhere.
***Flashback, 10 years ago***
The strongest witches and wizards the side of light had to offer were standing in a long chain, all linked at the hands. In order to complete the spell they had to remain in contact, flesh against flesh as they each gave to Harry a part of their very soul. That was the power Voldemort could never have. The Dark Lord stood alone at the top, an omnipotent figure that would never share power. Because Harry was never alone he was able to draw his strength from those around him. He would be the one to strike the blow, but it would be with the heart and soul of the wizarding world behind it.
As the Death Eaters began taking out those at the end of line who were defenseless because they had given their everything to the battle, Harry saw a sight that wrenched him to action. Draco Malfoy defying his father. He saw Lucius, stomach protruding with the child if the Dark Lord, raise his wand to strike down his only son.
Without thought Harry pulled the wizard chain with him to rebound the curse. He watched as Lucius fell to the ground, and Draco blacked out. No time to think on the scene as he led the chain to the brink. There he saw the Dark Lord keening in almost certain defeat, but determined to take as many with him as possible, striking his friends and adopted family dead. Gone was Severus Snape, gone Remus Lupin, gone every Weasley excepting Ron who was still holding on, though looking decidedly limp. And there was Harry, at the front of them all. He raised his wand and said those so unambiguous words "Avada Kedavra" and saw the Dark Lord turn to dust an ash, his flowing black cloak falling to the ground one last time. ***End Flashback***
Harry hadn't known then that saving Draco would put Ron in a wheel chair, never to walk again. While he still held to that scrap of him that said what he had done was right, he couldn't help but feel the pain of Ron's repudiation of all things wizarding. Magic had done this to him, and it couldn't save him. What you lost in a wizard chain stayed lost. That was the point, the greatest sacrifice. Ron had made it, and now he lived in obscurity, having not ever seen his daughter, leaving his wife to pine away ten long years. Harry wondered how he could live with himself. As Harry drifted off to a troubled sleep he wondered which 'he' he'd been thinking of: himself, or Ron.
When Harry awoke he felt somewhat worse for wear, but ready to observe Professor Williams give a DADA class. He was ready to meet the students and start planning lessons. To start his new life, the life he hoped to have for the next forty years or so. Stable, safe, and, he hoped, loving.
Harry sat in the back of the class. Sadly, he found Mr. Williams' waddling more interesting than his lecture. He was aware that the professor probably found his pregnancy more interesting than lesson planning, and so teaching directly from the textbook ensued. Harry had been taught by such teachers, and knew how incredibly boring they could be. Boredom led to uninterested students, which led to ennui and complacency, and in DADA this was a deadly chain of events.
Of course, Harry did not plan on becoming another Mad-Eye Moody. "Constant Vigilance!" was not his catch phrase, but he was going to get these kids to pay attention before another Dark Lord decided it was time to come out and play. ~After all, ~ he thought, ~I'm only around for so long, and this new world is theirs'. If the sacrifice of so many is to be made worth it I have to teach these kids to protect what so many have died for. ~
Finishing a long day of observing, Harry found himself on the couch in his and Draco's common room making lists of the things each year and house needed to learn, and the best way to teach it to them. These plans made him feel safe. Perhaps if he could plan it all to the letter he might meet this first term with success.
"Tea?" Draco's words and a cup to the right of his papers booted Harry back into the real world.
"Yes, thanks." Harry said shakily. He was always wary of human contact after some severe concentration. He never felt in control.
"How was your first day back" Draco asked, Harry thought he seemed to be making the best of a bad situation.
"Fine, all things considered. Seeing the students made me reminisce about our old school days." It made him miss Ron all the more. Wishing he had someone to elbow in the ribs every time he spotted a familiar troublemaker or match as perfect as Ron and Hermione had been even before they'd seen it for themselves. "Really?" Draco responded, "I wanted to ask you about Ron, but I've been afraid to pry. Hermione and I have been friends for a few years now, but she's never been able to share that piece of herself..."
Harry looked Draco over, measuring him. He knew Draco was not interested in Hermione in a sexual way. Everyone knew Draco was gay, but he still was hesitant. After a few moments he was sure Draco had despaired of an answer, but he went along as if the pause had never happened. "There are many reasons why she wouldn't. Understand that I'm trusting you with things most other people will never know" Draco nodded, and with that Harry launched into a full-scale recount of the final battle and what had happened to Ron.
When Harry was finished Draco did not speak. He just sat on the couch and digested the heavy words. Harry felt his anger at Ron return as he looked at the events objectively. He decided Ron needed a swift kick in the nether regions and Harry was just the wizard to do it.
He wrote furiously, and as he got up for a quick midnight trip to the owlry he glanced down to see Draco sleeping on their couch. One tear had fallen from his eye, but the angle of his head forced the tear onto his forehead. Harry carefully pulled the blond man out so that he was stretched out, covered him with a blanket, leaned down, and gently kissed the tear away. As he studied Draco's face he felt something stronger than a pang. Something like an ice cold knife in his heart. Filled with a strong confusion Harry knew only one thing for sure, he could never feel bad for saving Draco, not ever again.
Draco felt Harry's lips on his forehead. And even with the deep-seated guilt he now held, he felt hope spring in his soul.
A/N: Anyone want to tell me why I wrote that? I don't know. I can hardly stand it. Anyway, there's to be more soon. In the next chapter we're going to take a look at things from Hermione's POV, seeing more specifically what happened to Ron, and Ron will get Harry's letter. Things are starting to move...I think. Don't despair of me! I swear this is not totally sad! Cross my heart!
Amadea Malfoy: Thank you for the review! Tell me where to send it and I would love to have your help! I always hate it when I miss things, but after something has been written I tend to skim over the little bits to make sure the big bits make sense. My failing, I know. I really hope you like this!
As Draco left the room Harry felt a pang of something. ~I'll worry about that later~ He thought, and he gave his next unpleasant task his full attention.
"Mione, I know," he began, but was cut short.
"Harry, he's made his choice. He made it ten years ago. I can't sit by and wait for him to come back to us. I won't." A tear gleamed at the corner of her eye and fell unheeded down her cheek.
Harry reached over, wiping the tear from her chin where it sat on the brink of oblivion, and pulled Hermione onto his lap. He needed to comfort her almost as much as she needed the comfort. "Mione, I do know. Or, I don't. He was your husband, and only my friend. I understand as much as anyone can how much this hurts, it's just..." At this all Harry wanted to do was let his own tears fall, but knew he couldn't. If he was crying now he'd never get all this out. "Mione, I've seen him. He's a shell of what he used to be, a red-haired husk of Ron. He's waiting for someone to save him. I just, I need to do what I can."
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Harry, do what you have to, just don't give him any false hopes where Samantha and I are concerned."
Harry's own tears were free falling now. He set her down on the couch and began to stalk the room. "Do you honestly think I'd give him that? He has no right, none at all to make demands on you or Samantha. I'm talking about his life, Mione, that's all. After he has that he can go rot in coldest darkest hole in Hell, I may even dig it for him. I just can't let him go on this way. Knowing that I could have saved him, but I couldn't have saved them both Mione, and I knew he would live..." He looked at Hermione, his face filled with pain, "Mione I'm so sorry I ruined your family."
"Don't you dare, don't you even think to apologize for saving him, Harry Potter. I won't let you. Ron did this, all of this, to himself." And she was lost to shoulder jerking sobs. Harry, realizing there was a pain worse than his own right in front of him, stopped crying and held Hermione to his chest, whispering soothing words as she calmed down. Soon she was sleeping peacefully, and Harry picked her up and carried her the short trip across the hall to her rooms. There he put her to bed and went to check on the ever hyper Samantha. She was sleeping soundly, a soft smile on her mouth, and Harry was glad that at least one Weasley had survived the war almost unscathed.
Harry had quickly forgotten the momentary pang. Now he was dealing with the past, an ominous threat that was always stalking him, and it left no room for wayward feelings. As he lay in bed he remembered that last battle. Once he had thought it a distant memory, but now it felt closer than it had the morning after. Not a legend to be told generations from now, but a first hand account of when good and evil blurred, and the choice between what is right and what is easy mattered not at all. Harry was transported back into a time when a person had to choose between kill or be killed, the day when Harry Potter had chosen to stain his soul with the blackest deed, for wizards and muggles everywhere.
***Flashback, 10 years ago***
The strongest witches and wizards the side of light had to offer were standing in a long chain, all linked at the hands. In order to complete the spell they had to remain in contact, flesh against flesh as they each gave to Harry a part of their very soul. That was the power Voldemort could never have. The Dark Lord stood alone at the top, an omnipotent figure that would never share power. Because Harry was never alone he was able to draw his strength from those around him. He would be the one to strike the blow, but it would be with the heart and soul of the wizarding world behind it.
As the Death Eaters began taking out those at the end of line who were defenseless because they had given their everything to the battle, Harry saw a sight that wrenched him to action. Draco Malfoy defying his father. He saw Lucius, stomach protruding with the child if the Dark Lord, raise his wand to strike down his only son.
Without thought Harry pulled the wizard chain with him to rebound the curse. He watched as Lucius fell to the ground, and Draco blacked out. No time to think on the scene as he led the chain to the brink. There he saw the Dark Lord keening in almost certain defeat, but determined to take as many with him as possible, striking his friends and adopted family dead. Gone was Severus Snape, gone Remus Lupin, gone every Weasley excepting Ron who was still holding on, though looking decidedly limp. And there was Harry, at the front of them all. He raised his wand and said those so unambiguous words "Avada Kedavra" and saw the Dark Lord turn to dust an ash, his flowing black cloak falling to the ground one last time. ***End Flashback***
Harry hadn't known then that saving Draco would put Ron in a wheel chair, never to walk again. While he still held to that scrap of him that said what he had done was right, he couldn't help but feel the pain of Ron's repudiation of all things wizarding. Magic had done this to him, and it couldn't save him. What you lost in a wizard chain stayed lost. That was the point, the greatest sacrifice. Ron had made it, and now he lived in obscurity, having not ever seen his daughter, leaving his wife to pine away ten long years. Harry wondered how he could live with himself. As Harry drifted off to a troubled sleep he wondered which 'he' he'd been thinking of: himself, or Ron.
When Harry awoke he felt somewhat worse for wear, but ready to observe Professor Williams give a DADA class. He was ready to meet the students and start planning lessons. To start his new life, the life he hoped to have for the next forty years or so. Stable, safe, and, he hoped, loving.
Harry sat in the back of the class. Sadly, he found Mr. Williams' waddling more interesting than his lecture. He was aware that the professor probably found his pregnancy more interesting than lesson planning, and so teaching directly from the textbook ensued. Harry had been taught by such teachers, and knew how incredibly boring they could be. Boredom led to uninterested students, which led to ennui and complacency, and in DADA this was a deadly chain of events.
Of course, Harry did not plan on becoming another Mad-Eye Moody. "Constant Vigilance!" was not his catch phrase, but he was going to get these kids to pay attention before another Dark Lord decided it was time to come out and play. ~After all, ~ he thought, ~I'm only around for so long, and this new world is theirs'. If the sacrifice of so many is to be made worth it I have to teach these kids to protect what so many have died for. ~
Finishing a long day of observing, Harry found himself on the couch in his and Draco's common room making lists of the things each year and house needed to learn, and the best way to teach it to them. These plans made him feel safe. Perhaps if he could plan it all to the letter he might meet this first term with success.
"Tea?" Draco's words and a cup to the right of his papers booted Harry back into the real world.
"Yes, thanks." Harry said shakily. He was always wary of human contact after some severe concentration. He never felt in control.
"How was your first day back" Draco asked, Harry thought he seemed to be making the best of a bad situation.
"Fine, all things considered. Seeing the students made me reminisce about our old school days." It made him miss Ron all the more. Wishing he had someone to elbow in the ribs every time he spotted a familiar troublemaker or match as perfect as Ron and Hermione had been even before they'd seen it for themselves. "Really?" Draco responded, "I wanted to ask you about Ron, but I've been afraid to pry. Hermione and I have been friends for a few years now, but she's never been able to share that piece of herself..."
Harry looked Draco over, measuring him. He knew Draco was not interested in Hermione in a sexual way. Everyone knew Draco was gay, but he still was hesitant. After a few moments he was sure Draco had despaired of an answer, but he went along as if the pause had never happened. "There are many reasons why she wouldn't. Understand that I'm trusting you with things most other people will never know" Draco nodded, and with that Harry launched into a full-scale recount of the final battle and what had happened to Ron.
When Harry was finished Draco did not speak. He just sat on the couch and digested the heavy words. Harry felt his anger at Ron return as he looked at the events objectively. He decided Ron needed a swift kick in the nether regions and Harry was just the wizard to do it.
He wrote furiously, and as he got up for a quick midnight trip to the owlry he glanced down to see Draco sleeping on their couch. One tear had fallen from his eye, but the angle of his head forced the tear onto his forehead. Harry carefully pulled the blond man out so that he was stretched out, covered him with a blanket, leaned down, and gently kissed the tear away. As he studied Draco's face he felt something stronger than a pang. Something like an ice cold knife in his heart. Filled with a strong confusion Harry knew only one thing for sure, he could never feel bad for saving Draco, not ever again.
Draco felt Harry's lips on his forehead. And even with the deep-seated guilt he now held, he felt hope spring in his soul.
A/N: Anyone want to tell me why I wrote that? I don't know. I can hardly stand it. Anyway, there's to be more soon. In the next chapter we're going to take a look at things from Hermione's POV, seeing more specifically what happened to Ron, and Ron will get Harry's letter. Things are starting to move...I think. Don't despair of me! I swear this is not totally sad! Cross my heart!