AN:

Many thanks to my great beta reader Verlor (id: 1113787! His help improved this chapter significantly!


Chapter 31 - Terrible Truth

In dismay, Harry stared down at the unconscious man tied to a radiator. It was a very short man, with thin, grey hair, yellowish skin, and clothes that were covered with dirt, not a particularly pretty sight. However, that wasn't what shook Harry, but that it was a man who supposedly died fourteen years ago…

"That, Harry, is Peter Pettigrew," Remus said with a disgust Harry had never heard from him before. "He never died. He was your parents' Secret Keeper. It was he who betrayed your parents. Then he accused Sirius, faked his death and went into hiding all these years."

"Do you know what that means, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but with a piercing look. "It means Sirius was innocent. It means –"

…he'd killed an innocent man.

The realization struck Harry like a stab in the heart.

He'd killed an innocent man.

The world around him began to spin, his body trembling and his stomach rumbling.

He'd killed an innocent man. And not just any man, his parents' best friend.

He'd killed his parents' best friend! Killed him in cold blood! An innocent man!

Harry wanted to scream, but his throat tightened. Around him, the walls and ceilings collapsed, burying him under masses of stone. Harry felt like he was suffocating. That couldn't be true! That was just a bad dream! But he knew it wasn't a dream. Everything was real. His feelings overwhelmed him.

Harry ran off. He ran out of the small room. He ran out of the Blacks' house, down the small flight of stairs, and onto the street. He kept running. Everything spun around him, tears clouding his eyes. Darkness, scattered spheres of light, a bark. Finally darkness again, a hard surface, an awful stench.

His thoughts were utter chaos. He'd killed Sirius. His parents' best friend. His godfather. His family. An innocent man!

He just couldn't get the pictures out of his head. Sirius' pleading look just before Harry had looked away from him. Daphne's swirling eyes, her smile.

His body also remembered. The feel of his wand in his hand, shaking with his bloody desire. The certainty when he had raised his arm. The blood that had splashed on his face...

He could almost feel the drops of blood running down his skin, from his neck to his shoulder, soaking his clothes. Then Harry felt a terrible despair that wasn't his, but with his feelings it turned into a storm of pain, crushing any beauty in the world. Daphne's thoughts broke down upon him.

"Please say something, Harry. Hate me, yell at me, beat me ... anything ... please, Harry ... please respond…"

Hate? How could he ever hate Daphne? The thought made no sense.

"Harry!"

A heavy, warm feeling pressed against Harry's body. Like Sirius when he had approached them in dog form. At that time, he had played with him, stroking his soft fur, before he had killed him in cold blood, without any emotion ... he just beheaded him, hadn't even looked at him ... he was a monster…

Harry had to throw up.

"No, you're not! Harry, you're not a monster, I am! It's all my fault. Without me, you would've never done it. Take out your anger and hatred on me. It's all my fault, not yours. Hate me, Harry, not yourself. Hate me ... hate me..."

No, that wasn't true. He had done it. He had waved the wand, thought the terrible thought. Just him.

Just him.

Nobody else.

His nightmares were true. He was a murderer.

His parents had sacrificed themselves for him, and how did he thank them? He had killed their best friend without even listening to him once, without giving him a chance to defend himself.

He didn't deserve their sacrifice. He didn't deserve their love. He didn't deserve to be alive…

The blow hit Harry right in the face. Fingernails split his lips. Harry tasted blood.

"Don't say that! Never! Never! I ... no ... please, Harry! I ... I can't ... please, Harry! Be strong again! I need you! Once ... once I thought just like you! But ... I didn't do it ... because of you! You were my reason to live! Please, Harry! Let me be your reason ... or your scapegoat! Hate me if you want!"

The words reached Harry from afar, a mere whisper in the storm of his mind. He felt the blood of his lips wet his skin, just like the blood of Sirius before…

"Please forgive me."

A flash, then nothing.


Weeping, Daphne pressed against Harry's limp body, her wand trembling in her hand. She hadn't seen any other way out, no other option ... she just couldn't get through the chaos of his thoughts.

Suddenly, Daphne felt her body being seized by a burning rage. She was going to fix everything, this whole fucking situation. She would make Harry smile again!

With her sleeve, she wiped the tears from her face before rising from the filthy ground next to the rubbish skips. She then pointed her wand at the sleeping Harry, cast several disillusionment spells, and finally let him float slowly in front of her. Together they left the back alley to step onto the lantern-lit street, where Remus and Dumbledore were already waiting for them with worried expressions, their eyes sliding over Daphne's outstretched arm and wand to Harry's hidden body.

Without a word, Daphne passed the two men. They couldn't help her with her task, as always. She wouldn't find any answers in their looks.

With a pounding heart, but also a fiery determination, Daphne walked down the street until she reached the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place again. Behind it, the hateful, disgusted and also fearful grimaces of Weasley, Longbottom and Granger awaited them, but Daphne ignored them too. No one followed her as she took Harry into their bedroom, gently lowering him onto the bed. Only Dobby dared to speak to her.

"Is there anything Dobby can do, Miss Daphne?" he asked cautiously, his long ears drooping slack.

Daphne nodded slightly before answering in a croaking voice, "Yes. Please undress and wash him. And take care of him…"

"And what will Miss Daphne do?"

"I will save him."

With one last, long look at her beloved Harry, sleeping as quietly as an angel – her angel – Daphne left the bedroom. She forced herself to keep her hands from shaking as she went back down the stairs. At least, no sanctimonious Gryffindors were lying in wait for her this time … Let them wallow in their obliviousness. None of them knew what she and Harry had been through, what it had cost them...

Loud voices reached Daphne from the kitchen, but she ignored them. They would only distract her from her goal.

Only Kreacher kept watch in front of the small room that contained the vile bastard, the piece of shit that had turned one of the most beautiful days in Daphne's life into a nightmare. She didn't have to order Kreacher to step aside. As soon as the house-elf saw her, he reverently bowed his head.

"Mistress."

Daphne paid no attention to him.

Blood pulsing in her ears and a reddish veil laying over her eyes, Daphne pushed the door open. Pettigrew had woken up by now, but he was tied so tightly to the radiator that he couldn't move. A dirty piece of fabric in his mouth made it impossible for him to make intelligible noises. Only his watery eyes – the eyes of a rat – pleaded desperately to Daphne, begging in vain for help.

Daphne's body shook with fury as she looked at the whimpering figure in front of her, her hand clutching her wand so hard that her knuckles became white. Oh, how she'd love to make him suffer, punish him for what he had done to her Harry. How much she would love to use that hellish spell, enjoy the creature's cries of pain. She could already feel the incantation on her tongue, seductive and horrific at the same time, as if she had both a delicious caramel and a living, hairy spider in her mouth.

Her wand vibrated, eager to pass on the pain Daphne had experienced so many times. Instead of her and Harry's tears, this creature's blood would flow to cleanse them of their sins. His death would buy their salvation while the rat would burn in hell.

Pain.

Death.

Hell.

He deserved it. He deserved it so much.

Just like her parents before. Or Malfoy. Or all the Death Eaters.

Maybe even much more.

But…

But Daphne couldn't cast the spell. Or at least open her mouth. She wanted it, she wanted it so badly ... but her body didn't obey her.

Her body knew something that Daphne only then fully realized.

That wasn't her way. No more. Or maybe it never had been. Once she had seen a Daphne whose path it was. A strong Daphne who hadn't been afraid of anything or anyone, who stopped at nothing. A Daphne who would have passed on the pain, drowning the world in a sea of blood.

But...

She wasn't that person. She wasn't that Daphne.

She didn't want any more pain...

She wanted a life. A future. A family.

All this she would defend with tooth and claw, if necessary, but she couldn't take the step she'd come here to take. And she hated herself for that.

With a strange, empty feeling in her heart, Daphne left the room, not deigning to look at Pettigrew again. In the hallway, she was met by Remus, who eyed her carefully.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked her.

Daphne scuffled past him, and he made no move to stop her. "I had to face the truth," she whispered.

"And are you sure you did?"

"Yes. It hurts."

As if in a trance, Daphne returned to their bedroom. With a wet cloth, she wiped the dried tears and ashes from her face. After swapping her leather armor for a nightgown, she lay down in bed with Harry, pressing herself very close to him. She wished so much that Harry would take her in his arms again, telling her everything would be fine, but even their shared dream world was denied to them.

She felt so lonely and cold...


At the same time, in another room.

It was only when the door of their room closed behind them that Ron was able to cry. He collapsed against the wall as tears welled from his eyes. It was too much. It was just too much. At first their hope that it would help his mother to meet Potter had been dashed, and then his pet had turned out to be an Animagus, a traitor and a murderer. At that moment Ron was truly standing in front of his life's ruins.

Instantly Hermione and Neville were at his side, wrapping their arms around his shaking body. The three friends knew each other so well that words were superfluous, would even have disturbed the comfort and warmth of the moment. Ron was so glad to have them in his life. He didn't need to be ashamed of his tears in front of them, and for that he was infinitely grateful. Without them, he would be lost, he knew that. Without them, he would have long since lost all hope...


With a jerk, Harry opened his eyes. Next to him, he could feel Daphne's warm, sleeping body, as he had done on so many nights before. Through the window, the faint light of the moon shone in, enveloping the room in its silvery sheen. Harry's eyes moved over the closet, the bedside table, and finally over Daphne. Nothing suspicious anywhere. It was night, probably several hours before sunrise, meaning he could sleep a little longer. Smiling, Harry let himself fall back on the mattress, putting his arms around Daphne. He was just preparing for new, pleasant dreams, when suddenly the memories returned. The terrible truth.

Unlike a few hours ago, however, this time there was no crushing despair, madness, and longing for his death. Instead, Harry just felt empty, as if he had lost all will to live.

His fingers slid over the scabbed wound on his lips where Daphne's fingernails had hit him. He could almost feel her blow again, her tears, her horrific words.

Beat me ... yell at me ... hate me...

So stupid. He could never hate her. He loved her.

His gaze moved to his bedside table, on which was a picture of his parents, the people he loved most in this world after Daphne. In the picture they were hugging, laughing happily into the camera. How much Harry wanted that for himself...

With that one thought, something changed in Harry. As if a switch had been flipped inside him, he rose from the bed and left the bedroom, still dressed in his pajamas. Following a spontaneous inspiration, he went down the stairs, past the gruesome shrunken heads of former house-elves, past the heavy doors of the library, until finally arriving in the kitchen.

And Harry's intuition hadn't been wrong. At the kitchen table, Remus, his laughing best man just a few hours ago, was sitting in front of an almost empty firewhisky bottle, only his shoulders and hands shaking violently, but whether this was due to the alcohol or his state of mind, Harry couldn't tell. It was probably a mixture of both.

Only when Harry slumped into the opposite chair did Remus look up. His eyes were reddened, scars and deep circles cutting his face. From the first time Harry had met him, Remus had always looked much older than he actually was, but in the past few hours he seemed to have aged even more.

"Harry..." Remus croaked in surprise.

"Tell me about him," Harry said firmly, leaning forward.

"W-what?"

"Sirius. Tell me about him. Tell me everything you know about him. Everything that made him the person he was, that you associate with him, that you have experienced together. I just want to know everything…"

Remus looked at him with wide, bloodshot eyes before finally taking a long swig from the bottle in front of him.


"…anyway, Sirius couldn't sit for weeks. Your mother was really a devil with her wand," Remus finished his story.

They both had tears in their eyes with laughter. For the last few hours Remus had been telling Harry about the man Sirius Black and his numerous adventures and embarrassments. Remus had told of Sirius' rebellion against his own family, of his bravery, of his willingness to do anything for his friends. He had talked about Sirius' kindness, his selflessness, his humor, which had often overstepped the bounds of good taste, at least from the perspective of the stuffy wizarding world. Many anecdotes had revolved around the tricks Sirius had played with Harry's father at Hogwarts, which hadn't stopped the two of them from being brilliant students though. When Remus had told him how Sirius had beamed with joy the first time he had held Harry in his arms, Harry was in tears.

Sirius Black had been a good person. One of the best ever created by God. Harry knew that now. And it only made his sin all the more appalling...

Harry felt his partner long before she finally reached them. Daphne's hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed. It was obvious that she had run here as fast as she could, even if Harry hadn't been linked to her by a soul bond. He sent her a feeling of love to calm her worries, wanting her to never have to worry again. So many times he had promised her that already...

Within seconds Daphne was at his side, throwing her arms around him. "Harry!"

Lovingly, Harry stroked her back. It was almost as if he could still smell the scent of the flowers she had put in her hair at their wedding. She had looked so beautiful ... That had been only a day ago, Harry realized. He wasn't the same boy as yesterday…

"All's well," he said tenderly. "You no longer have to fear that I will kill myself. I would never have done that to you! But I still have to tell you something." At his words, Harry caught a glimpse of Daphne's memories of the previous night, of her inner conflict, the fight against her demons, and finally her victory.

Daphne lifted her head, a little confused and surprised, Harry sensed, but also incredibly relieved. For a few seconds, they just looked at each other, emeralds in an icy sea, before Daphne finally nodded slightly, reluctantly pulling away from him.

Harry did the same. Calmly, he got up from his seat and turned to Remus, who was looking at him tiredly but not as hopelessly as a few hours ago, even if his gaze bore witness to his own inner demons.

"I place his fate in your hands," said Harry, not having to say who he meant. "I have nothing more to discuss with him. Neither his life nor his death can offer me anything. As far as I am concerned, he can go to hell. Some day we'll see each other there anyway."

Without waiting for Remus' response, Harry turned around and took Daphne's hand. Together they stepped out of the kitchen.

Harry meant what he had said. He didn't want anything more to do with the rat, his life out of his hands. His own life already tormented him more than enough.

"Your life is not a mistake," Daphne said, squeezing his hand.

Harry returned her gesture. "And you're not weak."

Without meeting anyone, Harry and Daphne reached the library on the first floor, the only place in the entire house where they could be completely undisturbed. Harry put his hand on the old, enchanted wood of the door, which creaked open. Only now did Harry realize that Sirius had meant it seriously when he had made him his heir. It hadn't been just a delusion, a means in a diabolical scheme to betray his parents to Voldemort. Sirius had really loved him...

In the library they were greeted by the sight of tall shelves full of books and scrolls, only lit by the dim light of a golden chandelier on the ceiling, of course in the form of several intertwined snakes. It was undoubtedly an impressive collection of magical knowledge, but it was difficult for Harry to be impressed after seeing the unimaginable mass of books in Alexandria. However, there was something else in this library that made this place truly unique in the world, something which not even the most secret treasures of Alexandria could match. For in the middle of the room, on a soft carpet, surrounded by a centuries-old stasis spell, the figures of two lovers sat closely entwined. The Demoness and her Warlock.

Harry's gaze slid over the two motionless bodies, one dead, the other bound to life through sheer desperation. Valeydis' eyes were closed, but Harry knew they were the color of freshly shed blood.

"Just look at what love can do," Harry said to Daphne. "Love managed to make a demon, a being of hatred and violence, human ... at least almost. Because of love there is still hope for them, even after a thousand years."

"Is it our hope too?" Daphne asked quietly.

Harry hugged Daphne tightly. "It is. Our hope. And our promise ... My parents loved Sirius as he loved them. And they all loved me. Despite all my sins, Mum told me again. They… they saw everything, and yet she told me they love me, Mum and Dad."

"And I love you too, Harry, so so much!"

"I know, Daph, I know… It is your love that gives meaning to my life. Yours, that of my parents, that of Sirius, Remus, Dobby … It took me a long time to realize that…"

"Harry…"

Harry was now holding Daphne so hard that he was fearing her petite body would break under his grip, but she didn't protest, instead even clutching at him as tightly as she could.

"Thank you for your love, Daphne," Harry said with all the sincerity of his heart, letting Daphne feel his deepest emotions. "Without you, I might have done something very stupid, something that would have hurt you and all the other people who love me ... I made a terrible mistake, the most terrible mistake of all ... and yes, my love, it was my mistake alone, my choice, my sin. Not yours! You just wanted the best for me, like always ... Killing myself would be a quick way out, an easy solution, but most of all it would be cowardly. Sirius would still be dead, it would cost your life and betray my parent's sacrifice and love ... They died for me because they wanted me to live. And they love me, I can feel it inside me in my heart. I ... I know I'll never be like them ... I just can't ... but I'll never stop trying to be the man worthy of their ... and your love."

Harry took a breath, feeling a tear run down his cheek. In a trembling voice, he continued, "I ... I will carry this sin around with me until the end of my life. I will never be able to forgive myself, but ... when one day our time comes ... and we'll see Sirius again on the other side, I'll ask his forgiveness ... and I hope that by then, maybe, I'll have earned it…"

Harry couldn't hold back his tears any longer. As if he had been freed from a great burden, they suddenly burst out of him. In Daphne's arms, he needn't be ashamed of them, didn't have to wear a mask. Here he could just be Harry, a wounded but hopefully not lost little bird.

I'll make you proud, Mum, Dad, Sirius. I will earn your love, I promise.


A few days later

Tears welled from Draco's eyes, clouding his view on the grave in front of him. For the second time that year, he had to watch an empty coffin being buried. After his father, his mother had left him as well. Now he didn't have anyone. He was alone. Completely alone.

Why, Mum? Why did you have to die? I need you...

As always, Draco's questions went unanswered. Only the meaningless words of the priest, a young man just a few years older than Draco, echoed through the warm air. Draco would have loved to rip his tongue out. How dare he speak about his mother? He hadn't even known her. His words could as well be about any other woman...

Suddenly, Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. A cold shiver ran down his spine as the now familiar smell of decay overwhelmed him.

"You know what the Dark Lord expects from you now?" Bellatrix Lestrange, his mother's sister and, until recently, longtime Azkaban inmate, whispered in his ear.

Draco just nodded, unable to speak.

"Good. I know you won't let us down, Draco. Make your parents proud…"


If a human gives up their humanity, what is left for them, besides eternal darkness and an endless cycle of pain, blood and tears?


Next chapter: Meltdown

Preview:

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter, you are under arrest for..."