A/N Took me long enough I know. So sorry. Post wedding stuff got in the way. I'm getting ready to move to England so things are really hectic at times. Tons of good stuff happen in this chapter. I hope everyone enjoys it.
Lolua- YAY. I posted. Don't forget to give me a good long review.
hpgw=luv-freak - Names are special. I'm very particular about naming characters. They really have no personality until I name them. As for Lily and Bane, you are very good at figuring this stuff out. Meshach is her cousin and I have other plans for him. Thanks for the advice about the wedding. Everything was fantastic. And I agree, Remus and Tonks do belong together.
Spatula Chick- Thank you for reviewing again. Dreadful sorry you lost interest. Really, once you get the hang of it, keeping everything straight is no problem. Thanks though, hope you change your mind and keep reviewing.
Wren Craven- Thanks for reviewing. I hope to see more of you.
(Harry)
I closed my eyes tightly, praying for sleep, only to open them again in frustration. Hours had passed and still I lay awake, mind too busy to relax, body too exhausted to get up. Rolling to my back, I stared into the darkness. Events from the last week played themselves out over and over in the shadows, memories aching deep within the wound at my side.
"You are my brother, nothing can change that."
"When you're ready... if you want... you can come too."
"Because, what we did hurts you, and that was never our intention."
Every word reminded me of what I had lost.
Ron would never trust me again. For as long as we had been friends, there had never been secrets between us. He knew me, sometimes better than I knew myself. When I was lonely or angry, happy or sad, he read my emotions before I was even sure I felt them. If things began to go badly Ron was always there to confide in. He'd never let me down.
A lump rose in my throat when I thought my wife. It was painful to know she had betrayed me, but excruciating to think that I drove her to it. For years I had managed to show her only the most necessary amount of affection, done the very least of my husbandly duties and expected her to understand. My actions were selfish and ultimately detrimental to both of us, and I never once offered an explanation or apology. It was amazing she'd held on so long.
It would be a lie to say that I hated Neville Longbottom, though after what occurred between he and my wife, I should have. Instead my emotions drifted towards a mixture of bitterness and resentment. If I were honest with myself, the anger stemmed not from the incident itself, but from the underlying implications of it. He knew my wife better than I. He read her emotions and knew what she needed, while I was left in the dark.
Growling at my self-inflicted depression I forced myself to sit up, wincing slightly as my side ached. After a moment of fumbling on the bedside table for my wand, I lit the torch on the wall. Vaguely I wondered how many more nights I would have to spend staring at the dismal walls of Grimmauld Place. I appreciated Remus' hospitality, but the house was wearing on me.
Considering the current state of affairs I snapped my fingers and smiled as the pack of cigarettes fell into my waiting hand. Quickly I lit one with my wand and inhaled deeply. The familiar calm washed over my body and a sigh escaped me. A few moments passed in this manner until a thin cloud of smoke floated above the bed.
With every breath I waited for my muscles to relax, for the tension to ease, and for my thoughts to finally become clear; I was disappointed. It seemed the smoke clouded my mind as much as the air. The nicotine had once brought clarity to my muddled life, made it seem as though I had everything under control. Such lies are easy to believe in the face of disaster, but they aren't quite as convincing when the dust has settled and you see how much you have lost. Bile rose in my throat and I vanished the remains of the cigarette with a quick wave of my wand. Slowly the smoke dissipated, though its bitter smell remained.
"Sometimes we are forced to choose." My mother's voice drifted through the dim light.
The vision I had experienced in the forest was blurred and disjointed, very little of it remained.
"Some wait, others move on, and a few choose to die before they live." Luna said dreamily.
If I were honest with myself, I knew they were right. I needed to choose. There was no time for moping or wishing for things to be as they had been. Action needed to be taken.
Very carefully I slid to the edge of the bed and stood up. The pain was brief but sharp and it took every ounce of strength I had to stay upright. My clothing had been folded neatly at the foot of the bed and with a great deal of effort I dressed myself. It was tempting to rest before leaving, but instead I reached for my wand and disapparated.
(Draco)
"This is your study, I presume." Snape said as I opened the door to allow him in.
"Yes."
His eyes slowly scanned the contents of the room, "You inherited your father's collection."
"Only half," I corrected, running my fingers over the dusty books, "it was his idea of a wedding gift."
"I see."
"I was to receive the other half after my initiation, but as that never came to pass, the rest still reside in my mother's library."
"By the amount of dust on them, I can see you are not an avid reader."
"My tastes are slightly different than my father's." I replied.
"The Art of War." He read one of the titles out loud.
"That is one of my own."
"Obviously. Your father's choice in reading tended to be darker."
Gently he pulled a book from the shelf and inspected it more closely.
"Unblockable and Unforgivable: The Origins of the Darkest Curses." The pages made a crackling sound as he turned them, "I remember this book. Your father insisted I read it."
"It is one of his favorites."
"You've read it then?"
"Yes. When he asked me to."
He shut the book with a loud thump and placed it back on the shelf. Casually he walked to my desk and began sorting through its contents. Briefly he paused to look at the picture I kept in the bottom drawer. Pansy smiled happily as she stood in front of our house, my son held in her arms. Pressing his lips together firmly he gently replaced it and shut the drawer.
"Find anything of interest?" I asked quietly.
"Very little."
"I can assume then, that this intrusion is nearly complete?"
"What is behind that door?" He asked suddenly and pointed.
Inwardly I cringed. Part of me had hoped that he wouldn't notice, so I could usher him out the door and be done with the entire ordeal. His quick steps and impatient cough ended my fantasy.
Without a word in answer, I moved the large plant blocking it and turned the knob. Nothing had changed in the room. The walls were still white, the furniture sparse, my father still lay unmoving on his bed. The usual pang of hatred came and went before I approached the inhumanly clean cot.
"I don't..." Snape began and seemed unsteady.
"I had hoped you wouldn't see the door." I said casually straightening the blanket that covered my father's form.
"You... you lack your father's talent for concealing... things." Very slowly he was regaining his senses.
"I suppose I do, though I don't possess much that needs to be hidden."
"He should be dead."
Smiling to myself, I nodded.
"If you wish, you may use my owl to alert the guards at Azkaban. They've not seen a member of my family for years, the cell could use some sprucing up, I'm sure."
"Mr. Malfoy..." He began.
"I won't fight, just let me take care of a few things first."
He gazed at me for a moment, as though once again searching for something he recognized.
"Perhaps you should start with an explanation," His tone was hushed, "unless you are very desperate to have your soul sucked from your body."
"Where would you like me to begin?"
"You might start with how a known Death Eater, who was supposed to have died four years ago, came to reside in your house."
There were many versions of the truth I could have given him. For years I had thought of new and convincing reasons why my father was in my care. Most were lies, pathetic rationalizations and twisted versions of the facts. Snape would see through them in an instant.
"The only explanation I can give that would be truthful, is that I am a coward."
"I think that falls short of justifying the situation."
"Before my father set fire to Hogsmeade, he added a clause to his will. This stated that in the event of his capture and subsequent punishment by Dementor's Kiss, his lifeless body was to be placed in the care of his surviving family."
"I see." There was a glint in his eyes that told me I had his attention.
"My mother claimed she was to old to care for him. So he was passed on to me."
"And you agreed to this arrangement?"
"As I said, I am a coward. I took him in because I feared the consequences of turning him away."
"What consequences are those?"
"My mother controls everything," I whispered and ran a finger tip over the hollow of my father's cheek, "She controls my income, my personal affairs, and how much longer my son remains in my care."
His eyes narrowed slightly, "If she has as much sway over your actions as you claim, it is only because you allowed her the privilege."
"You don't understand." My voice rose a little.
"I understand that you gave someone power over you and now you wish to rebel against it."
My breath quickened and I felt myself becoming angry.
"I had no choice."
"There is always a choice."
"Not for me," I was near yelling, "I wasn't as lucky as you, I never had an alternative. The one person who cared about me, who wanted the best for me, died. She died because my father let her die. Do you honestly think I would care for him now if I had thought there was a way out? I'm not brave enough to fight back, to risk losing everything. To risk my son."
Dark eyes bored into me, as if trying to read my very soul. Clenching my jaw, I stalked past him to the door.
"If you aren't going to arrest me, I suggest you leave." My words were formal and even.
"What do you plan on doing now?"
"I have business to attend to. The house elf carries on well enough without me, but my father will need tending."
His gaze was unnerving, but I refused to look away.
"You know," He began, "cowardice is not a permanent condition. Just as keeping your father is not a permanent arrangement."
"I plan on remedying both very soon."
"Good."
With another strange searching look, he patted my shoulder and took a step back.
"Will we meet tomorrow as well?" I inquired.
"Perhaps not. Take care of your family."
There was a loud crack of disapparation and he was gone. Long moments passed and I stared at my father's face. The face that had caused me so much pain, that had taken so many years of my life, the face I hated.
"It's you and I again, Father." I whispered closing the door and walking toward his bed.
His chest rose and fell slightly with his breathing. Softly I placed my hand over his heart and felt it beating in a steady slow rhythm. My fingers trailed to his mouth and felt the tiny puffs of air.
"How long has it been since we spoke?"
In response, his pale grey eyes opened. Though they simply stared at the ceiling, I wondered if he could hear me.
"Much has happened in the past week. At the risk of sounding introspective, I'll say I learned a lot about myself."
My fingers closed over his mouth just slightly.
"No matter how I try to change, I am still your son. I am still a Malfoy."
The grip of my hand tightened.
"While I was fighting to remain in control of my own body I had a realization. Despite how much I hate you, we are still very much alike. You were too spineless to take responsibility for your actions. I was too much a coward to become a respectable member of society. You let Voldemort run your life and curse your child. I let my mother run my life and curse my child."
His head twitched a bit as I completely cut off his air.
"That all ends now."
(Ron)
Though darkness had fallen and my family was dreaming, I could not sleep. In silence I lay beside my wife, listening to her breathing and running my fingers gently through her tangled hair. After the events of the past week, it was good to simply be with her. Part of my heart still ached when I thought of how close I came to losing everything I loved.
She assured me before drifting into slumber that she would still be there when I woke.
"What if I sleep late? You wake earlier than I do." I asked touching her cheek softly.
"I think we've all earned a good long sleep." She replied and kissed my fingertips.
"Promise?"
Her smile made my heart skip, "I promise."
Seconds later she was snuggled against me, sleeping deeply.
The longer we lay like that, the safer I felt. It was comforting to feel her skin and listen to her breathing, to know that she was here with me. Just as I was beginning to feel drowsy, an edge of worry cut through all the warm feelings.
Very carefully, I slipped from my wife's arms and padded my way into the hall. The hard wood was cool on my feet as I stealthily dodged the boards that squeaked. Seconds passed and I reached the door to the children's room. Slowly I turned the handle and pushed it open just enough to see inside.
All three of them were tucked into Meshach's bed. The girls cuddled close to him on either side as if to shield him from something. Suddenly he began to shake and his face contorted with fear, before I could go to his side however, Mab woke and put her arm around him.
For a moment her eyes met mine and she smiled a sleepy smile.
"It's okay, Daddy. We've got him."
I nodded in response and she petted her brother's hair until his tremors stopped and he lay still. The edge of worry was slowly dissipating. My children were safe. Of the three, Meshach had suffered the worst, his nightmares would always be filled with agony. An adult could push that memory aside, but a child's mind was impressionable, he would never forget.
They had been right, of course, when they wouldn't let me kill Draco. He had not been in control of his body. It still hurt to see my son in pain, to know it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Weasley's do not forgive easily and I wasn't sure I was capable this time.
My thoughts continued on this path as I turned to go to bed, but were interrupted by a loud noise in the kitchen. I froze. Instinctually I reached for the wand that usually hung at my waist; it was gone. Cursing silently I crept down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Small scuffling sounds could be heard from within.
Peering around the corner I was startled to find Harry sitting at the table. His hands were flat on the table in front of him and his face looked ashen.
"Harry?" I asked entering the room.
He looked up and half smiled, wincing a little.
"What are you doing here? Did you apparate?"
"Wanted to talk to you."
"It could have waited until morning, you've probably hurt yourself." I admonished kneeling down next to him to look at the wound.
There was no bleeding, but my stomach turned at the purple and black bruises that covered his abdomen.
"It's fine." He whispered and pulled away, straightening his white t shirt back over the bandages.
"Ginny told you not to apparate."
"I'm fine, Ron." The words were more forceful this time.
Sighing, I stood back up and sat across the table from him. There was silence as he seemed to collect his thoughts.
"I'm sorry." He managed finally.
"For what?"
Those green eyes just looked at me.
"What are you sorry for?" I repeated.
"For everything." He replied.
"Oh."
"I've not been a very good brother to you, and I'm sorry."
"Harry, that's not true. You're fine."
He looked at me and shook his head, "There are secrets between us."
"Yes."
"It's not that I don't trust you, it's just... it wouldn't be fair to Ginny if I told you."
I waited for more, but he appeared to be at a loss for words.
"Are you and my sister separating permanently?"
His pain was obvious. The question had cut straight to his soul.
"I don't know."
"Do you want to?"
"I... I don't think so."
"Then why aren't you home with her now?"
"Neville and I have had a disagreement, Ginny was involved."
"What sort of disagreement?"
He frowned, "I really can't tell you. Maybe when it's all over..."
"Is Neville still your brother?" I queried.
"Yes. I think."
"Does he know that?"
"No."
"Perhaps you should tell him."
I watched his movements carefully and noticed his hands were shaking. Whatever Neville had done, must have been terrible.
"Am I still your brother?" I asked quietly.
"Of course!" He sounded shocked.
"Well under the circumstances it's not such an odd question. If Neville could undo the pact, couldn't I?"
The shaking grew worse, "You're... you're my... you're Ron. You couldn't..."
"And Neville is Neville, whatever he's done, you are still bound to him."
"It's not the same."
"How?"
"Just... just trust me. What happened... you could never... it's different. Please don't make me say any more."
"Alright." I conceded.
"Like I said, it's not about trust, it's just something that I can't talk about."
"I understand."
We sat in silence. I tried not to look at him, to remain angry, but it was impossible. Whatever had happened, it was between him and Neville. They would work it out.
"I just couldn't go on with so much unresolved between us... between everyone." He whispered.
"I've been thinking." I replied.
He looked up curiously.
"About?"
"The pact we made, you and I."
"I know. I screwed that up as well, I'm sorry."
"Honestly, I think we need a new oath."
"Ron..." He protested.
"The first was selfish. It left so much uncared for. I think it would be better if we revised it." I explained.
"How?"
"Someone has to be around to take care of Hermione or Ginny and the children. I think we should agree that whoever is still alive, takes care of the other's family."
Harry seemed to think this over, his eyes narrowing.
"You would trust me to take care of your family?"
"Of course!" It was my turn to sound shocked.
"I can't even take care of my own, are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"I think it's time you went home." I suggested, seeing his color had returned slightly.
"Yeah."
"Give Remus my best." I stood to help him up.
"Actually, I think this time, I'm really going home."
For some reason I felt like I might cry.
"Good." I managed.
He gave me a lopsided smile and I hugged him.
"Thank you." He repeated, refusing to let go.
"Go home, go be with your wife."
That earned me a grin, "Good night."
With a wave of his wand and a loud crack he was gone. Still smiling a little, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
(Draco)
It was a moment to savor. A instant in time that I wished to preserve in my mind eternally. Though outwardly she showed little emotion, there was turmoil in those crystal blue eyes. A new sensation was slowly creeping its way into her brain. Something she had never experienced before. For the first time in her life, my mother was uncertain.
"Hello, Mother." I said stepping forward.
She shifted in her seat and folded her hands in her lap with slow deliberate movements.
"You don't seem happy to see me." I stated.
"Well," She began, "it is a surprise."
"I would imagine. At our last meeting I was not myself."
"You seem to be in possession of all your senses now."
"Yes."
I drew closer and she tensed slightly. Looking at her, I wondered how such a pathetic creature could have ruled my life for so long.
"However did you manage it?" The edge in her voice hinted at her anger.
"Never you mind. I've other things to discuss."
"Really?"
A smile came to my lips.
"Oh yes, we have much to talk about."
"Such as?"
"Your future accommodations."
She laughed and shook her head, "You really have gone mad. I'm not going anywhere."
"You really aren't in a position to disagree."
"Have you forgotten about our arrangement? You, my dear Draco, have gained an inflated sense of self importance. I suggest you alter it immediately or I will be forced to take actions to do so myself."
"You always had a way of taking control." I said with a smirk, "Well, this time things are a little different."
"In what way?"
Casually I stepped closer, she moved back slightly and watched my movements. Her wand lay on the table next to her, I picked it up. It was worn where she had held it for so many years, the tip black with use.
"I've decided to change the rules."
Still smiling I pointed her wand directly at her chest.
(Harry)
She was beautiful.
No other words came to my mind as I watched her sleep. Her hair turned to a river of fire in the moonlight, tracing over the pillow and down her back. The blankets lay over her feet, leaving her clad in only my old T shirt. One arm was curled beneath her while the other stretched across the bed, across where I used to sleep.
A heaviness came over me and I wanted desperately to lay down beside her. My flesh needed to feel her touch one more time, my heart to hear her whisper as we fell asleep. The past events seemed so silly, so childish. None of it mattered, because in the end, I needed her.
Silently I took a step closer, watching her breathe. A sleepy sigh shifted the locks of red hair that fell along her cheek and the scar became visible. It was not as discolored as I remembered, nor the edges as jagged. Time had faded it until very little remained. In my mind it had been a symbol of my shortcomings, everything I had failed at. In truth it was no more than a thin, pink thread of knotted flesh.
"Harry?" The voice was slow and unsure.
"Yeah."
"What are you... Did you apparate?" She sat up and stared at me through bleary eyes.
"Yeah."
"Are you okay? Sit down."
"I don't think... I..."
She kicked the covers away and came to me, swiftly I was pulled to the bed and forced to sit.
"You can't apparate with a wound like this. What if you had splinched yourself? There would have been no way to stop the bleeding." Deftly her fingers checked the bandages and tightened them a little.
"Ginny, I'm fine." I managed.
She stopped fussing and finally met my gaze.
"I just..."
"I know."
"Harry... what are you doing here?"
Part of me wanted to run, to escape from her curious eyes, but somehow I remained where I was.
"I thought... I mean... we need to talk."
"I know."
The speech I had been practicing in my head was suddenly gone. I grasped for something, anything, to fill the silence. She seemed to understand and waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts.
"I'm sorry." I finally managed.
"For what?"
There was a test buried in her words, if I answered wrong the repercussions could be devastating.
"I've not been a very good husband."
"And I've not been a very good wife."
We stared at each other for a moment.
"I don't know if we can make this better. I don't know if I can ever really trust you like I did."
"I understand." She whispered and looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
"And I don't know if I'll ever be a good husband."
"You used to be." her voice was barely audible.
"What?"
"Before the... hospital, you were a great husband."
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." My chest tightened at the memory.
"What?" She sounded surprised.
"I wasn't there to protect you, I failed and I'm sorry."
"Harry," She replied seriously, "you've upset me many times, but that was never the cause. You had a job to do, just as we did. No one could honestly expect you to be everywhere at once."
"I'm the hero." I stated.
"I fell in love with you because you were Harry, not because you were a hero. I've never expected you to stop all the evil in the world or to do anything like that. My only demand was that you love me."
"I do."
"Then forget about being a hero and try just being you."
I nodded and tried to find words for what I needed to say.
"Why? Why, if you love me and all of that, would you have sex with my brother?"
"It had nothing to do with love." She murmured.
"What was it?," Unintentionally the words came out harsh, "Casual? An experiment?"
"No."
"Then what was it?"
"Damn it, Harry. I was scared. My family was in danger and my husband didn't want to have anything to do with me. You said you hated me. I just... I just... wanted to be... wanted."
Tears were coming to my own eyes, "I've always wanted you."
"I'm so sorry."
Her hand brushed mine tentatively, and I didn't pull the away. Carefully she intertwined our fingers and waited.
"I don't know if we can make this better." I repeated.
"I know."
"But I'm willing to try."
I don't know how long I held her, but it wasn't nearly long enough. For the first time in days my body felt as though it weren't going to fall to pieces. Though it might take a while, everything would be fine. Her breathing became even and the grip on my hand loosened after a bit. Gently I laid her back on the bed and covered her with the sheet.
Though I longed to lay down beside her, there was more to be done. Closing the door behind me I was careful to tread softly through the house and down the stairs to Lily's room. Her door was open a little and there was a faint glow from her night light. The creak of the door opening at my touch, woke her and I found myself looking into my daughter's brilliant green eyes.
"Daddy?" She asked through a yawn.
"I was just checking on you." I whispered and sat on the edge of her bed.
"Why?"
"Because that's what Daddies do."
"Are you home?"
"Yes."
Her brow furrowed and she leaned in very close, inspecting me thoroughly.
"Where are the ghosts?"
"What ghosts?"
"The ones in your eyes. Where did they go?"
"I don't know." I answered honestly.
"Do you always check on me?" Her scrutinizing gaze became curious instead.
"When I get scared."
"Of what?"
"That you might be gone. That I might have imagined you."
She laughed a sleepy laugh and hugged me tightly.
"Will you check on me every night?"
"If you like."
"Yes."
"Then I will."
"Goodnight, Daddy." She sighed as her head fell back on the pillow.
"Goodnight, Lily." I answered and kissed her forehead.