A/N: WARNING: This chapter is a bit weepy.
More from me at the end.
Chapter 14- Hushabye Mountain
Christmas morning dawned cold but clear and bright.
It was bittersweet.
Bear didn't know that the day was anything special, of course, and still needed his familiar routine to be able to function properly. The adults, as it were, shared a pot of coffee and layered up for the journeys that Hermione had planned and Ron had obtained the Ministry's permission for them to take.
They lined up in the living room; Bear balanced on Draco's left hip, his right hand in Harry's, Harry's right hand in Hermione's, Hermione's in Ron's.
The first, sharp pull of Apparition took them to Godric's Hollow.
It was here that Bear's parents had been laid to rest, only a few feet back from where Harry's own parents had lain for eighteen years. When they'd buried Tonks and Remus Harry had commissioned a marker, too, for Sirius.
The group was almost silent as they laid flowers at the graves of parents that were lost, of friends and Marauders and loved ones. Draco held tight to Bear as Harry kissed his fingertips and laid them first over his mother's name, then his fathers, engraved on the headstone that marked their resting place.
"I love you," he whispered.
Their second Apparition point was in a churchyard in the Devonshire village of Ottery St Catchpole. Here Ron laid roses for his brother; finding the grave wasn't difficult, finding a spot for the flowers amongst all the other floral tributes to the Weasley brother was.
Hermione kissed his cheek softly before they moved silently to the next spot.
Draco had no love for any of his family that had been lost in the War. But there was a sense of duty and respect from all four to visit the Northern town that was the childhood home of Severus Snape. Unlike Fred's grave, this one was bare. But not forgotten.
Another bouquet was laid.
The final stop on the slightly macabre, but infinitely important journey was to Hogwarts. It was Hermione who had made arrangements with the Headmistress for them to Apparate outside the school gates, then walk down to the edge of the lake to lay flowers for Dumbledore. No one met them on their short journey. They knew the way. And Hogwarts knew them.
Back in London the four separated; Harry and Bear to the garden, Draco to his bedroom, Hermione to the library and Ron to the living room. Just for a while. Just for long enough to collect their thoughts. Just so they could remember.
xXx
When Harry returned from the Burrow that afternoon he was surprised to see Draco napping on the sofa. The other man had claimed that there was plenty of tidying up to be done from Christmas dinner, and after that he had NEWT work to be getting on with in the lab. Although, Harry could see the temptation in falling asleep in front of the warm, crackling fire with the soft glow coming from the lights on the tree.
The tree. It was beautiful; a Norwegian pine that Draco had brought home one afternoon along with a box of live fairies that had to be fed twice a day on earthworms, but emitted an ethereal, otherworldly glow that made up for the grossness of the grubs.
Harry couldn't help the slow, sappy grin at Draco's sleeping form; his hands pillowed under his cheek with pink lips slightly pursed. It was still early in the evening, barely seven o' clock; he'd left Bear in Molly's care for a couple of hours on the understanding that Hermione would bring him back later. He'd managed to slip away quietly and surprisingly easily, making him wonder exactly how much Molly knew (or suspected) about his new relationship.
"Room for a small one?" Harry whispered as he crouched down in front of the sofa.
"Hmm?" Draco asked, raising a sleepy eyelid.
"Budge over."
Draco shifted back until he was flush against the soft cushions, raising his arm for Harry to snuggle in close. This was entirely new to them, far too intimate and 'couple-y' to do in company.
Although there was plenty of room on the wide, low sofa, Harry pressed the length of his body to Draco's until they were lying practically nose- to- nose. Harry raised his hand and gently ran his fingers through the dishevelled strands of soft blonde hair.
"What have you been doing?" he murmured.
"Mm. Cleaned the kitchen. Was going to read for a bit but I fell asleep."
"You looked like a painting when I came in. Like one of the portraits in the Headmaster's office."
Draco huffed but looked secretly pleased and leaned in to rub his nose against Harry's.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I really didn't want to leave you today, but they're the only family I've got, you know?"
"Yeah. Don't worry. My mother wouldn't even let me go visit her."
It had been something Harry was wondering about, but the topic was one too delicate to push. Narcissa had resisted every one of Draco's attempts to go and visit her in Azkaban and Harry knew how much it was hurting Draco to not just go, to turn up and demand to see her. It was a testament to how much he respected his mother's wishes that he desisted.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, leaning in and brushing his lips over Draco's in a barely- there kiss.
"Don't be. It won't be too long now before she's out." But Draco's arm tightened around Harry's waist.
"Will you need to go back and reopen the Manor?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah. At some point. I want to go through and clear out all of the awful stuff that's still there. I should just let a team of Aurors in to do their thing."
"I bet Ron would love that," Harry teased.
"I'm sure," Draco said drily. Their lips gravitated back to each other again, still kissing so gently, pooling liquid warmth in Harry's belly. This was a Draco that Harry had never known before. A sweet and incredibly loving, broken, tentative and vulnerable man.
"I want to make love to you," Harry admitted, his eyes closed, whispering the words.
"We will," Draco said. "Soon."
Harry dropped his head forward until it rested against Draco's forehead.
"Okay. Okay."
"I don't want to push you," Draco started, then held off Harry's protest with a peck on the lips. "And I'm not ready, either. Not for that. Not with you."
Draco's fingers had tugged up layers of fabric to rest his hand on the dip of Harry's spine. His thumb brushed back and forth gently, teasing and comforting and reassuring all at once.
"Did you get a jumper this year?" Draco asked, smiling.
"Yeah. It's green. Think she's trying to say something?"
"Oh god, I hope not."
Harry chuckled. "Me too. She's always known far more about us than anyone wants to admit."
"It's a mum thing," Draco said, then winced. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I feel like I'm starting to know my parents a little bit more, now that we've got Bear. I've got a better idea of what they went through at least."
"The paternal protective instinct?"
"Yeah. That."
"So… where is he?" Draco said, laughing a little.
"Still with Molly. Hermione said she'd bring him back later. Molly packed up some mince pies for us, I couldn't stop her."
Draco smiled again. "Can't say that I mind."
Talking was overrated when they could be kissing. Long, slow, unhurried kisses that couldn't go anywhere when they didn't know what time the others would be back, just taking the time to taste and touch each other in a way that was as scary as it was thrilling.
"I have something else I wanted to give you," Draco said as their lips eventually parted.
Harry smiled and ran his fingers through Draco's hair again. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to wait until we were alone to give it to you," Draco admitted. "Accio Harry's present."
They sat up on the sofa as a small parcel flew towards them from the direction of Draco's bedroom. It was wrapped in midnight blue paper with a delicate silver ribbon.
"Merry Christmas," Draco said as he handed Harry the gift.
Slowly, and very carefully, Harry peeled the paper back to reveal an intricately carved wooden box.
"I don't understand," Harry said, turning the box over and over in his hands. It felt empty and he couldn't find the catch to open it.
"Wait," Draco said, his hand catching Harry's wrist. "I need to explain something first."
Harry looked at the other man with a little frown on his face. He wet his lips nervously. "Okay."
Draco looked nervous, too. "It's, um, it's a music box. I had one of the house elves find it from the Manor. It, uh, used to be mine when I was a child.
"Thing is, Harry," he took a deep breath. "I'm not really sure if it's Dark magic or not. I don't think it is. But I'm sort of wary of anything from that house now."
"How can a music box be Dark magic?" Harry asked, amused.
"It'll sing with your mother's voice," Draco said in a hushed voice.
Harry's mouth dropped open. His fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the box. "How..."
"Mother used to leave it with me when she and father went to functions," Draco rushed to explain. "But she and Bellatrix would show me, when they opened it it would sing with a different voice. Their mother's voice. Even though she died years ago."
Harry took a deep breath and felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. It was stupid, he told himself, he hadn't even heard it yet.
Draco released his wrist and said "Go on."
Suddenly, he knew how to open it. Running his thumb along the seam of the wood caused the lid to lift as if on an invisible string. A soft, ethereal voice started to sing:
"A gentle breeze, from Hushabye Mountain, softly blows over Lullaby Bay,"
Harry slapped his hand over his mouth as the first tears fell. It was his mum.
He would have never remembered it if it weren't for the music box. He was completely entranced by the voice, taken back in time to the sweet smell of his mother's cheek, her warm arms rocking him even though he knew it didn't make any sense, that he couldn't really remember that far back.
The song ended and his sobs were the only sounds now filling the room. The top lowered silently back on to contain his mother's voice once more.
"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, gathering Harry up into his lap. "I shouldn't have given it to you. I'm so sorry."
Soft lips brushed the tears from his cheeks and Harry pulled his glasses off.
"It's amazing. Thank you so much."
"You're not sad?"
Harry laughed softly. "Yeah. But... I have nearly nothing of my parents'. To hear her again after all this time... it's the most amazing thing in the whole world."
"I didn't recognise the song," Draco said. Kissed his forehead reverently.
"It's from a Muggle film. I can't remember the name of it now. But she used to sing it to me as a lullaby.
"Oh god, Draco."
With the light from the fairies still softly glowing in the tree, Draco held him tighter. "I thought that we could play it for Bear, too."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Tonks. Fuck. I miss her."
He still wasn't sure of the success of the gift; Draco felt the need to reassure with gentle kisses that spoke of calm and reassurance.
"You open it," Harry said and passed the box to Draco who shook his head.
"I don't know if I can."
"I'm here. It'll be okay."
With his teeth worrying his bottom lip, Draco ran his fingertips over the seam in the wood.
Harry would never have recognised the voice as Narcissa's. But then again, he'd never seen the woman as anything other than the ice queen wife of a Death Eater. She was surely more than that to Draco.
Just as Draco hadn't known Hushabye Mountain, Harry didn't know the sweet folk song that filled the room in a light, soprano voice; the words crisply enunciated on upper class vowels. It was beautiful in a completely different way.
"It's okay to miss her," Harry said, tucking his head under Draco's chin in a silent offer of some privacy.
"I do. A lot. It's the first time in my whole life I've been away from her for this long. And she won't write or let me visit or anything."
"She's a strong woman," Harry said as the song finished. "Do you really think it's Dark magic?"
He felt Draco shrug. "I don't know. It can recall the voices of dead women, Harry. It's surely not squeaky clean."
"I think," Harry said slowly. "That it's a bit like the Mirror of Erised. You could spend forever listening to it and get lost in the past, and forget about the present."
Draco nodded. "Yeah. I could see that."
"It's a sweet thing for a scared little boy, but it could be dangerous in the wrong hands."
"But that applies to nearly every type of magic," Draco argued.
"True," Harry acquiesced. "Thank you, Draco. Thank you so much."
"Any time," Draco whispered. "I'd do anything for you."
xXx
"How does it work, do you think?" Hermione asked, ever the analyst as she turned the music box over and over in her hands.
"I have no idea, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes, then leaning back into Harry's shoulder slightly.
Ron and Hermione had returned with a grouchy, over tired Bear who was dozing in Harry's arms as he took his nighttime bottle. However much Harry was desperate to keep the music box for himself, his desire to share it with his best friends won out.
Hermione looked up and caught Harry's eye. "Can I try it?" she asked hesitantly.
He nodded. "Of course."
Mrs Granger's voice sang a Muggle children's song that Harry vaguely remembered from his own childhood, then Ron took a turn and blushed a familiar shade of red as Molly's voice rang out in a pretty tune about a gnome called Norris and his dalliances with Delores.
"I'm almost scared to open it for him," Harry said, nodding to the baby in his arms who had watched he other's reaction to the music with great interest. Draco smiled and passed the box over.
Very carefully, Harry lifted the little boy's hand and ran it across the seam in the wood.
"I don't give a damn about my bad reputation," Tonks sang, causing Draco to throw his head back in laughter.
"You know, I think I would have liked my cousin Nymphadora," he said and wriggled his arm around Harry's shoulders.
There was something strange about being so intimate in front of his friends. Strange, but not necessarily unwelcome. Ron had been exceptionally good so far but Harry was willing to bet that wouldn't hold out if he and Draco started snogging with Ron in the room.
"She would have hexed you if you called her that," Ron said to Draco. Joking. Ron was joking with Draco. Harry felt the need to preserve the memory in a pensive.
"I'm going to go put him down," Harry said. He rolled his shoulders as he stood; Bear really was getting heavier.
"I'll come," Hermione said, kissed Ron on the forehead and followed Harry before anyone had a chance to argue. She brought the music box with her.
"I think it probably taps into your memories," Hermione said as Harry changed Bear for bed. She too rotated it in her hands over and over, seemingly trying to figure out its mysteries. "It doesn't matter how long ago it was that you heard your mum singing it, or how old you were at the time, it finds those memories and plays them for you again."
"That makes sense," Harry agreed, snapping up Bear's pyjamas. "I wonder if he remembers his mum singing anything appropriate for bedtime."
Hermione smiled as Harry settled the baby in his crib, then leaned over and brushed a kiss on his forehead.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Harry murmured. He took the box from Hermione and, with Bear's eyes drooping, set it at the end of the crib. "He probably needs it more than I do," he explained with a shrug.
Hermione closed the door to the nursery behind them then threw herself into Harry's arms. He caught her with a surprised chuckle.
"You're just so perfect for each other," she moaned into his neck. "I've never seen you this happy before, Harry."
"Really?" he asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Content. You're so content it hurts."
He smiled and squeezed her gently, then pried the clingy woman from around his neck. "I suppose."
"Don't fuck this up, Harry," she warned with raised eyebrows and a wagging finger. "He's good for you."
He kissed the still extended fingertip. "I won't."
"Do you love him?"
The question should have taken Harry aback, but for some reason, it didn't.
"Maybe," he said with a small smile and a shrug. "Maybe."
A/N: Lily's voice sings Stacey Kent's version of Hushabye Mountain, originally from the 1968 film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It's hauntingly beautiful.
Narcissa sings something akin to Edelweiss; imagine Julie Andrews' voice and you can't go far wrong.
Tonks, of course, sings Bad Reputation by Joan Jett.