![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Four: -Before you can go forward, you must face your past. Sins of the father may bury the son. Harry will find out if a dog really is the man's best friend.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, mention of het rape, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes, angst and a partridge in a pear tree.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
Harry hated Draco Malfoy's smirk with burning passion.
Trying to ignore it and concentrate on one of the endless reports, he kept his gaze away from Draco. It had been bad enough to deal with a pounding head this morning, not to mention the very unpleasant taste in his mouth. He really didn't want to hear anything Draco might want to say.
Considering the way he'd actually howled with laugher while reading the Daily Prophet, Harry could guess where his words might lead.
He had the feeling that he'd have to hear whispers about his looks for a while now. Damn the journalists!
Writing about him and Draco having an affair had been bad enough, and the disaster with the Dursleys had made his blood boil. Headlines screaming about 'Harry Potter, the Most Beautiful Bachelor in our World' were enough to push him toward homicidal rage.
It didn't exactly help that everyone in the house seemed to find it amusing. Harry could have sworn that even Eppy had smirked at him while passing by carrying the tray.
Too bad the Ministry had finally started to make noise about the future, forcing the Order to meet tonight. Otherwise Harry would have stayed home all day, enjoying the peace and quiet as long as it lasted.
Of course when everyone came back from wherever they'd gone -- Sirius and Remus off somewhere, Hermione happily back at St.Mungos' with Zabini and Ron off to see his brothers -- there would be even more comments on his looks. Facing the public wouldn't really be that much worse.
Grumbling, he tried to pay no attention to Draco smirking at him across the room, and concentrated on the report.
Maybe he should just go and read in the kitchen.
Ron was still grinning as he guided his brothers to the house through the back door. There was a small crowd forming on the street and he didn't want to pass it by, but it was clear why they were there; he'd heard about the Prophet calling Harry the most beautiful young Wizard alive. Ron was definitely not going to waste any opportunity to tease his friend about that.
From the smirk on George's face, it was safe to say he wouldn't be the only Weasley bringing that up today.
He was glad his brothers were here with him, finally able to come and see his new place and then join the Order as a group. All of them. It didn't matter that Charlie was still limping and Percy looked like he was sleepwalking; they were all together and that was enough.
"This way. Yeah. Through that door over there." Ron gestured at the kitchen door. There was a lot he wanted to show his brothers, who were already looking around in awe, but with the good Weasley tradition, it was best to start with the kitchen.
Even if that meant glares from Eppy.
Bill rushed to grab a chair and then held it for Charlie who lowered himself into it with a sigh. He made certain his brother was comfortable with his leg elevated on another chair.
"Stop fussing, Bill." It was a familiar sentence from Charlie, said without any real heat.
"I wouldn't have to fuss if you took better care of yourself!" The admonition came immediately, accompanied by more fussing.
Sighing, Charlie allowed Bill to tuck the pillow he'd transfigured under his hurt leg. His expression said more than words, though.
"Besides, you need to stop over exerting yourself. It'll be a while until you can safely use a Portkey or Apparate." It sounded like Bill had said that more than once these past few days. "You know what the mediwizard said."
The smile on Charlie's face was slightly self-mocking. "I'm not planning on going back any time soon."
He wasn't going to allow the remaining curses to keep him away from the fights. Like all the Weasley brothers, he wouldn't rest until they'd rid their world of both Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy.
Harry froze at the kitchen door as he heard the words, unable to control his expression for a moment.
He could understand well why Charlie wanted to stay, but a part of him wished he'd return to Romania. It would be far less dangerous to work with the dragons than it was to face the Death Eaters.
"Harry!" Ron was the first one to see Harry stand at the doorway. "Hope you don't mind us all coming here for lunch."
Shaking his head and stepping full into the kitchen, Harry said, "Of course not." He turned to look at Charlie. "Good to see you up and about. How's the leg?"
His innocent words caused Charlie to roll his eyes as the other Weasley brothers didn't even bother to hide their smirks. "It's still stiff and striped."
Even Harry got the reference. "I've heard that happens sometimes."
"Well, at least it doesn't change shape," George said with his eternal optimism. "Would be bloody awkward if it did."
Ignoring the muffled laughter his brother's words produced, Bill nodded. "The rest of the curses were fairly easy to break, but those two are nearly impossible."
Harry remembered the days Bill had fought to keep his brother alive. 'Fairly easy'? He didn't really want to know just how hard it would be to break a difficult curse then.
Realizing that the mood was swinging back to morose, Bill added, "Won't be easy for you to find a girlfriend any time soon." He poked Charlie in the ribs while saying that, making it sure it really was taken as a joke.
Charlie laughed with the others, knowing that he wouldn't be able to escape bad jokes about various magical venereal diseases if his leg stayed like that. "Shut up."
For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of mirth.
"Seriously, though, we should be able to do something about the stiffness later on." Pulling a chair out for himself, Bill sat down. "And maybe in time the color will fade and you..."
His sentence was cut off as he saw a blond man walk into the kitchen carrying an empty teacup and keeping his attention on the Daily Prophet he was holding.
Percy let out a faint snarl, the sound reverberating in the room louder than any yell. Then he blinked and seemed to sink back into the numbness.
The other Weasley brothers didn't seem to have his control.
"Malfoy!" Bill hissed between his teeth, his hand going to his wand so quickly the motion was almost impossible to see. One moment he was staring at the Slytherin, the next he was pointing at him with his wand.
"No!" Harry stepped between the wand and Draco.
"Bill, don't!" Grabbing his brother's arm, Ron had to wonder if he had completely lost his mind. "Don't."
"That... Is a Malfoy." It sounded like Bill was using the word to describe everything vile in the world. "What the hell is he doing here?"
Folding the Prophet awkwardly while still holding the cup in his other hand, Draco stared at the angry redheads. "I live here."
The very calm words made Harry glance over his shoulder. He didn't know if the flippant words were genuine, or a way to hide something, but the overly calm way Draco put his teacup down on the table was telling.
"Ronald..." Bill's tone reminded them all of Molly Weasley. "There'd better be a very good explanation for this."
Ron looked from Bill to George, wincing at the lack of rage in his eyes and then turned his pleading gaze to Harry.
There would be a full argument in seconds. Harry wasn't going to wait for that. "This is my house, and I decided to give Draco a home here."
All the Weasley brothers turned to stare at him, Ron with gratitude in his eyes, Bill, Charlie and George looking stunned. There was no change in Percy's expression; he looked as distant as usual, only his gaze revealing the fire burning inside of him.
"Why?"
That was a very good question indeed. Harry wasn't sure if any of the reasons he could give would make any sense. He decided to go with the most painless one. "Because he's a member of the Order and he needed a place to stay."
The Weasleys stared.
Ron coughed a little. "Well... You want some coffee or something before lunch?" Anything to break the icy silence and distract his brothers.
"Sure." Even though he didn't really want to change the subject -- how on earth could Ron live with a Malfoy in the house? -- Bill nodded. This was not the time for an argument. But he did lean closer to his little brother and muttered, "Does mum know?"
"Yeah. She knows." Muttering it quietly, Ron refused to look at Harry. They both knew why Molly Weasley had visited here just once, and was not likely to visit again.
Ron went to putter with the kettle, hoping that Malfoy had enough sense to get out and stay somewhere else. The gradual lessening of tension told him that the Slytherin had indeed left, leaving just the Weasleys and Harry there to enjoy their cup of tea before lunch.
Maybe now they could just sit in peace.
Even as Ron poured the steaming water into the pot, smiling at the idea of just relaxing with his brothers and his best friend, the sounds coming from the front hall destroyed his hope for peace.
"It actually said beautiful in the article?" Remus Lupin sounded incredulous. "Unbelievable."
A sound of raspy laughter followed his comment.
Harry had only a moment to realize that things would probably go from very bad to a total disaster in only a matter of seconds before the door was pushed open.
Sirius was laughing out loud as he stepped into the kitchen. Seeing the small crowd of redheaded men, he froze, making Remus stumble into him.
There was a slightly stunned silence in the room broken surprisingly by Percy. He stood up, hand moving to reach for his wand and said, "Sirius Black." He sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks, his voice dry.
"No!" Both Harry and Remus stepped forward, shielding Sirius with their bodies.
Harry had to wonder just how many times he could stand in front of a drawn wand today before he got hexed. He wasn't really interested in finding out by experience.
"It's all right, Percy." Ron looked at his brother. "He's one of us." He could barely curb all the other words that were trying to claw their way out.
It was as if the lights were turned out again. Percy didn't say anything; he simply sat back down, staring straight ahead like he had been previously with his face blank, as if he didn't really care about anything going on around him.
Bill winced with pain as he saw his brother turn back into the almost lifeless automaton, but most of his attention was still focused on the bearded man on the other side of the room. "Sirius Black?" What was a known criminal doing here? He could remember how people had been looking for this man, both five years ago and back when he had betrayed... "Harry? Are you insane?"
He was certain now that something was indeed wrong in this house. Harry chose to spend time with the man who had essentially murdered his family? It wasn't simply strange like Malfoy's presence here, but sick and twisted.
"No." Harry didn't move. He didn't want anyone to start a new war in his kitchen. "Sirius is a member of the Order. Has been one since even before I was born. He never killed or betrayed anyone, especially not my family."
Reaching out with his hand, Ron patted Bill's arm in a familiar gesture of seeking attention. "He's right, you know. Sirius is a good guy. Harry's godfather and all."
"Really?" Bill's tone didn't sound at all convinced.
"Yeah." Harry nodded. Fortunately there was enough time before the evening's meeting to actually explain this. Most of the Order already knew about Sirius, especially those who had been in Hogwarts after McGonagall's return from the Malfoy Mansion, but apparently no one had told the Weasleys. He didn't blame Ron for not telling his brothers. They'd all had too much on their mind.
He should have known this would happen. People coming to Hogsmeade from all around the country -- or from Egypt and Romania -- would need to hear all the facts before he brought Sirius into their meetings.
Near the doorway, Sirius was cringing a little, hating the moments like this. He didn't relish in being the center of attention, especially when it was suspicion and barely concealed anger that was aimed at him.
"It will be all right, Padfoot."
A familiar touch on his shoulder made him relax slightly. "If you say so." He would probably believe most things Remus told him, even if he said the sky had just turned green.
He didn't move away from the doorway, needing to have that escape route nearby if things went bad. It looked like everything would be all right, with Harry explaining the situation to the older Weasleys, but you never knew.
Especially with that one young man staring at him with his eyes round. He shivered a little. Would there ever be a time when he wasn't feared or hated? Merlin, he hoped so. Maybe when the war was finally over, he would be able to walk in their world a free man, not forced to assume Snuffles' form every time there were outsiders around.
Harry could see that both Bill and Charlie had a hard time believing in what he was telling them, but when he finished his story, they seemed less tense.
"So you're saying that it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed your parents?" It actually made sense to Bill. He'd only been a first year when Harry's father had been in Hogwarts, but he could still remember how the Quidditch captain had always been trailed by admirers, including Pettigrew. It wasn't as far fetched as he'd first thought.
"Yes." As always when he thought about the rat, a shiver of rage went through Harry. "It was."
Seeing Ron's pleading look, he left it at that. Maybe it was best if the Weasleys never found out they'd lived with the traitor for twelve years.
After a moment of hesitation, Bill nodded and then took a step towards the door, his hand held out. "Bill Weasley."
Harry beamed as Sirius grabbed the offered hand and then moved away from the doorway to let Remus properly in as well. It was good to see that his friends and his family could get along. With his bad leg, Charlie remained sitting, but he did offer a smile and warm greetings to both Sirius and Remus.
"George." Smiling a bit sadly at the lone twin, Remus touched his shoulder gently. He knew he didn't have to remind the young man of who he was, he'd issued him and his brother enough detention during his year as a teacher at Hogwarts to be truly a memorable figure in his life. Most of the times he'd had difficulty in not laughing at the duo's insane pranks, but somehow he'd managed to be a perfect adult.
Ignoring the touch, George kept staring at Sirius with his mouth hanging slightly open. His eyes were wide, as if he was in shock.
The expression made Bill's stomach clench. It reminded him of the first hours after the attack, when George had sat in the corner, rocking himself back and forth, muttering to himself. "George? What is it?"
Very slowly, George got to his feet. He didn't take his gaze off Sirius. "You..."
Harry didn't think George sounded angry, but he still hastened to say, "It's all right, he really is a good guy."
It was as if his words didn't even register. George simply stared at Sirius. Then he asked, "Padfoot?" His voice trembled with some kind of a suppressed emotion.
Looking completely baffled, Sirius nodded. "It's a nickname my friends gave me when I was still young." Why was that affecting George Weasley like that? As if it really meant something to him.
A wide grin spread to George's lips, making him look completely ridiculous. "You're Padfoot? As in Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs?" Seeing the utter shock of recognition on Sirius Black's face, he let out a whoop of joy. "I can't believe this! I'm standing here with Padfoot!"
Harry finally realized what this was all about. "Yeah, and I think I should tell you that he's not the only Marauder here."
"What? Really? Who?" Looking around frantically, George finally settled into staring at Lupin. "You? You were... Really?"
"Yes, really." Remus knew that George would make the connection sooner or later. "My friends called me Moony." He didn't think he needed to tell anyone why. His lycanthropy was a widely known fact inside the Order by now.
George repeated that as if it was a prayer. "Moony. Moony and Padfoot." He shook his head in amazement. "To think I'm finally meeting you. My biggest idols."
No wonder professor Lupin had known exactly where to look for them when they'd done their perfectly executed pranks. The man had been a master of mischief in his own time in Hogwarts.
For a moment he looked like he was going to fall on his face and declare that he was not worthy. Then he got a grip over his awe and simply stood there with a goofy smile on his face.
The astonished look didn't disappear as Eppy appeared to prepare lunch or when they all gathered around the dining room table to eat. George barely even glared at Malfoy who had joined them for lunch; he was too busy staring at his idols.
It was the one thing that could carry them all through the tension and barely veiled anger. Harry was glad they all had the good sense not to talk about their living arrangements again, knowing the fragile truce could end the very moment someone voiced Draco's name again.
Walking to their Headquarters as a part of a larger group was a relief, people yelling greetings and staring at them all meant that no one was targeting just him. Being the one everyone stared at was familiar already, but it was just too much today.
Fortunately the walk wasn't a long one, but even as they entered the Headquarters, Harry could feel people staring. It almost made him wish he was still wearing his old school robes even though they were too small and kind of shabby.
There were a few comments said by people who could obviously not read the face of their big hero, but the comments died very quickly after Harry's first real angry glare. After that, there were simply more staring and whispers, people all seeming to think that the Daily Prophet had been right indeed.
Marching to the smaller meeting room, Harry just wanted everyone to get over it as soon as possible. His looks couldn't be that big a thing, not with more important issues waiting for everyone's attention.
He nodded at the professors, managing a small smile and a few words as he spotted McGonagall and then turned to face the dark figure standing next to her.
There was an evil glint in Snape's eyes as he looked up and down Harry's body. His lips twitched slightly.
"Don't!" Harry warned, holding his hand up. "Just... don't."
"Wouldn't even dream of saying anything," muttered Snape, amusement now clear in his voice.
The way he said it did sort of make it funny, not that Harry would admit that to anyone. "Good." He turned around before Snape could see his faint smile and headed towards the head of the table where Dumbledore was once again gesturing for him.
It was time for business.
People were already gathering around the table, taking seats next to those they were most familiar with and talking with hushed tones. The fact that it was a smaller, more selected crowd today seemed to be enough to raise the excitement level high, and everyone was waiting for the room to fill so that the meeting could begin.
Remus and Snuffles were the last ones to enter, Remus turning to close the door firmly behind him before walking to the two empty seats left by Harry's side.
Seeing that almost everyone in the room already knew about Sirius, Harry gestured at the dog, who then promptly shifted his shape back into a human. The resulting panic in some of the young people was fairly predictable.
It took both Harry and Dumbledore a few minutes to convince everyone of Sirius' innocence, then people calmed down again, sitting there and waiting eagerly to see what would happen next.
As much of a relief as that was, Harry couldn't help feeling slightly alarmed. The so-called evidence against Sirius had once convinced everyone of his guilt, and now all it took was a few words from him to make everyone relax. He didn't want to even imagine what else he could make people do, how some would obey him without questions even if he suggested something pointless and dangerous.
The mere thought was more than just frightening, it was terrifying.
People already knew about the smuggling operation, but after Remus finished with his latest report, the mood seemed to plunge. It was clear that the Death Eaters were getting ready to start whatever they had planned, and no one had a clear view on what it would be.
"Even though we do have a pretty good idea what it's going to be like," Arabella Figg said without bothering to moderate her voice.
That brought nods from all across the room, but most of the younger people still looked unsure.
"Their method is simple. They attack the houses and leave no survivors. It doesn't matter if they are Wizards or Muggles." Figg's brief glance at the Weasleys who were all sitting together near Harry was enough to emphasize her words.
No one said anything to that.
"It seems the history will be repeating itself." Muttering the words quietly to Charlie, Bill wasn't prepared to see Dumbledore's gaze focus on him.
"You're right." The Headmaster nodded, not at all surprised that those who had been mere children during the previous war could still remember it so vividly. All the deaths had probably played in their nightmares for years.
The younger members of the Order sat in silence as the older people started to reminisc out loud.
Harry had heard this all before, but it was clear to him that these tales came as a surprise to most of his yearmates. Especially those with Muggle ancestry were stunned, but even the pureblooded wizards and witches seemed shocked by what they heard.
It made sense. The people who had survived the attacks had probably done their best to forget all about the whole thing. Still, they had not been able to bury the events forever; the hesitant recounts of things that had happened almost two decades ago were as detailed as if they had all happened yesterday.
He was glad he wasn't the one having to spell this out again. Sometimes he felt like he'd repeated telling about the horrors so many times he couldn't really squeeze another word out of his throat.
This wasn't warning or speculation, these stories were true.
Voldemort's strategy seemed to be based on fear. Terrorizing people was always very effective, and with his followers, he was able to control most of the wizarding world. It had been like that during his first reign, and from the reports it was clear it would be like that again.
"There was never any clear proof of who actually orchestrated all the killings." Gaze out of focus, Arabella Figg stared into the distance, as if she was seeing into the past. "Everything was always marked by the Morsmordre and the blame went to Voldemort."
Most of the others nodded, Fletcher adding, "Him and the Death Eaters. Back then, no one dared to name anyone. It was simply not done."
The outcome of such an action or even too many loud musings would have been ridicule or a very suspicious freak accident that got you and your whole family killed. There had been plenty of those, culminating in what happened in Godric's Hollow.
"Even though no one said it out loud, that doesn't mean we don't all know who was to blame." Sirius had never wanted to keep quiet about this, not even back when he'd swallowed the words to protect his friend and his family. Now that he was finally allowed to say it out loud, he hesitated. Not because of being afraid, but because he knew that he was about to hurt someone who had quite recently saved Harry's life.
People looked at him, expecting him to continue.
Bill Weasley looked from Sirius to Draco Malfoy. "Voldemort's right hand. Lucius Malfoy." He remembered how the Death Eater who had killed Fred had laughed and then pushed down his hood to reveal a very recognizable mane of hair as if scoring a point.
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone tried very hard not to look at the blond young man at the end of the table.
Draco was staring at Harry, his eyes clouded over. He knew they all knew the truth already. "Yes." Why would he even try to hide that awful fact? Just because it was his father?
Most of the older members of the Order flinched at the softly spoken word. McGonagall lowered her gaze, not wanting the children to see how much that hurt her. A moment later when she raised her gaze again, she looked as calm as always.
It was almost as if everyone was holding their breath.
"My father has always believed in his cause. Not only in Voldemort, but in power. That is his real cause, and because of that, he will not be swayed." Memories of long lectures at dinner table echoed in Draco's mind. Not only of the glory of the Dark Lord, but of power and how nothing else in the world meant a thing. He kept his gaze focused on Harry as if he was speaking to him and no one else really existed here. "If you encounter him..."
Seeing Fletcher open his mouth as to interrupt Draco, Harry grabbed the older man's arm and shook his head. They had to let him finish what he was about to say.
This was no game and Draco didn't sound like he was trying his best to either impress or shock everyone. Harry wondered if he'd ever seen the Slytherin so real before, aside from the glimpses he'd got when Griphook's lantern had illuminated the absolute astonishment on Draco's face.
Draco swallowed, hating the way his voice was almost cracking. "Don't think he'll hesitate for a moment. He will hex you. If he's in a hurry, he will kill you immediately. If not, you'll come to wish he had. He will show no mercy."
He was glad he managed to say that out loud, shutting his mouth and keeping the nausea down with all his control. Not looking at anyone because there were so many people here who already knew exactly what his father would do to those he saw as enemies.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I know."
There were other muttering agreements, people letting out the words for the first time.
Snape sat back and watched people as they talked about the Death Eaters, surprised by the strange detachment he could summon even as they talked about things he knew all too well from his own past.
He didn't know why no one had asked him about his former Master and the group he once belonged to. Sometimes it seemed like people almost forgot all about his presence in this crowd. It made no sense, for he had more knowledge about his former brothers than most people in the world. Yes, young Malfoy did know his father, but his view was narrower and more limited than his.
Maybe it was fortunate that no one had asked for his knowledge. Some of the sideway looks people threw at him made him wonder if it was intentional; as if the reality of what he'd once done was too hard to bear. The intentional silence was probably a good thing, keeping everyone from hexing him.
The meeting was paused after an hour or so, and the windows and doors to the balcony were opened to let some fresh air inside. Most of the people escaped the intense mood to the vast hallways, needing some time alone and claiming their own space by rushing to the loo or simply just walking away.
Snape kept his eyes on Draco Malfoy as the boy walked out through the open glass doors to the balcony, squinting his eyes as he saw Ron Weasley and Harry trail after him.
Knowing it was probably futile; he still hoped that the Gryffindors had enough sense not to push young Malfoy right now.
"Er..." Ron let out a questioning sound as he stepped onto the balcony.
He hadn't really expected Malfoy to acknowledge his presence, so it wasn't a big surprise when he just stood there and stared into the distance.
This was stupid, but he'd followed Harry here and then when some witch had grabbed his friend's sleeve right at the door, he'd just walked on and now found himself alone with Malfoy. He hadn't meant to come here; in fact this was the last place he should be right now, with his brothers and Hermione somewhere in the big meeting hall.
And yet he couldn't just leave.
He knew it had to be hell for Malfoy to be here, and although he refused to feel sorry for the bastard, he couldn't help being drawn to him. There should be no confusion, only a happy buzz after spending a day with his brothers, but Malfoy was always bugging him, his presence somehow too irritating at the edge of his awareness even when he did nothing.
"Are you..." Funny how the words almost refused to come out after all. Ron didn't want to care. But he couldn't help himself. "Are you okay?"
Draco didn't look up. "I'm fine, Weasley." The cold tone of his voice hid all real emotions.
As always, it made Ron bristle. Why the hell was the git like this? Why couldn't he just say what he meant instead of playing stupid games that would end up hurting everyone? Maybe if Malfoy didn't play these games, just once, he might actually be able to deal with not loathing him anymore. "Of course you are."
It seemed to be the absolutely wrong thing to say.
Turning around slowly, Draco stared at Weasley. He hadn't felt like this for a long time. All the anger and the pain they'd once released in frantic shagging was now burning bright inside him. "You damned..."
He couldn't think of anything to say. The rage flaring through his mind was already diminishing, leaving him hollow.
"Go ahead, Malfoy. Tell me what a loser I am again." Almost horrified by his own words, Ron tried to stop them and couldn't. "I'm not stopping you."
Draco shook his head. "This isn't about you. Don't you see? Not everything's about you." A hint of the anger still showed in his voice. "You think you have the monopoly on pain and loss? I know what you lost and I'm sorry for that, but do you have any idea of what I lost? My family, my friends, my world. Everything I ever had."
The money in Gringotts didn't really matter. What he'd lost was so much more than what he'd managed to hold onto.
"Your world was crap!" Ron had never really known how much it hurt to hate himself like this. He'd thought he knew all about self-loathing when he'd pushed Malfoy on the floor and ripped his robes off. This was worse, especially when seeing the pain his words induced in Malfoy just made him snarl, "And your father is a monster."
"I know." Draco nodded. He didn't want to fight about this anymore. "But he's still my father."
Ron couldn't think of anything to say to that. If only Malfoy had said something angry and stupid! Then he could have fought back.
He hated Malfoy, always had. So why did he feel like he had just kicked a baby crup?
Without saying anything, he turned around and walked back inside. He walked straight into Harry and muttered an apology before rushing back to the conference table. Staying to talk with his friend felt like too much right now, and he didn't want to look into Harry's eyes and see how he didn't need his apologies.
Unlike someone else did.
Seeing that at least two redheads were already following Ron, Harry sighed. He was torn by watching his friends suffer, unable to decide what to do. Ron had been there for him from the beginning, but right now, he wasn't the one all alone.
He made enough noise walking to the balcony so that Draco knew he wasn't alone anymore.
Harry didn't say anything, just leaned against the doorway. He could hear the hushed talking coming from the war room, but ignored it. McGonagall and Dumbledore would have to deal with whatever was going on there. This was important.
"You know..." Draco didn't even look up to acknowledge Harry's presence, but he knew he was there. "When I was six, my father bought me a broom. I'd dreamed of getting one for ages, but he'd told me I was too young. But then one day, he came home with a brand new Twigger. Custom made for me. It even had my name on it."
That was how his whole life had been; custom made things, only the best for the heir of Malfoy. He'd never had to wait or want for anything. Except for that first broom.
"I wanted to learn how to fly immediately, but my father said my lessons would start the next day. There'd be a former Quidditch coach coming to teach me. I was so disappointed. Didn't say anything of course. You didn't really talk back to him. But he could see I really wanted to try it immediately. Somehow he could see that, and he went to grab his own broom and gave me a lesson right there and then. Nothing great. Just how to kick off and fly around the yard. I don't think my feet got two feet off the ground, but I was flying."
At the moment, Harry couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. He had no such memories of his father. Or of anyone. The only lessons he'd ever been taught back at Privet Drive had been lessons in humiliation and hard work.
Draco sighed, looking up. "He's a cold blooded killer. Doesn't care anything, about anyone. I know. He would have let me die back at school, before we went into hiding." A crooked smile made him look older than he was. "I just wish I couldn't remember... Other things as well."
No platitudes would work here; Harry knew he could never relate to Draco's feelings. His own memories of his parents came from the nightmarish vision he got every time he encountered a Dementor and from the stories Sirius and Remus told him. They were colored by decades and deep inside he knew that they couldn't all be real.
He chose to believe in them simply because this way he wouldn't have to ruin yet another thing in his life. His mother had been a wise and loving woman and his father had been corageous and strong and that would be enough.
Having to face the reality of a parent who was less than perfect would be worse than anything. Most children saw their parents as people when they grew up themselves, but they usually didn't have to face a monster. Harry could deal with a father who had been a part of silly and even somewhat cruel pranks in his youth, but how could anyone deal with having a father like Lucius Malfoy?
"Merlin..." Draco sighed, shuddering as if he was shaking off some invisible burden. "I guess I can be pretty melodramatic when the occasion calls for it."
Harry smiled a little, recognizing the way Draco brushed off the awkwardness as a joke. "I know."
They exchanged a knowing look.
"Come on then." Harry's voice was quiet. "Let's go back inside." It wasn't even cold out here, but the sun was setting and suddenly the atmosphere was feeling too morose even with the half hearted joking.
Draco nodded. He was grateful Harry wasn't wasting his breath for useless words of consolation or trying to talk about this seriously. "Sure."
They didn't talk as they walked back into the room, Harry casting a warning glare at Ron as the Weasleys reappeared a few moments later. To his surprise, Ron seemed slightly apologetic.
It was better than nothing.
"Mr. Malfoy."
Hearing the familiar voice made Harry freeze, and he could almost feel the tension in Draco as they both turned to face professor McGonagall who had somehow managed to sneak right next to them. Walking quietly like a cat.
"Professor," Draco muttered uncomfortably. Of all the people in this room, she was the last he wanted to face right now. He'd take Harry's gruff and almost painful friendliness or Weasley's slurs over the open reservation and a hint of fear any time. "Excuse me, I..."
He moved slowly, as if not to startle anyone, careful not to touch her even accidentally. He had to get out of here, right now, and collect his thoughts somewhere in private.
A very soft touch on his arm stopped his exit, making him stand still. Glancing down at the hand resting lightly on his sleeve, all he could think of was the impossibility of such a gesture, for the hand was steady.
Maybe it was he who was trembling.
Looking up, he could see Minerva McGonagall look him straight in the eyes, her gaze clear and unveiled. He could only blink, unable to move as if her touch was grounding him, freezing him in place.
"You are not your father, Mr. Malfoy. Nor are you responsible for his actions." McGonagall's gaze flickered to Ron and Harry who were standing right behind the Slytherin boy, both practically gawking.
Draco swallowed. He knew that, and definitely didn't hold himself responsible for the deaths and... other things his father might have done. So why did the professor's soft words hit him even worse than Weasley's childish tantrum?
"I believe that anyone relating a man of your fortitude and character with those following Voldemort would be sorely mistaken." With that, McGonagall withdrew her hand, but didn't move away.
A genuine smile spread to Draco's lips and he did nothing to suppress it. He could read the professor all too well, and although there was nothing but honesty in her words, she was obviously using them not only to assure him but also to send a very clear message to her Gryffindors.
Nodding his head in a strange half bow that held nothing but the deepest respect he could show another pureblood who knew the power of a careful phrasing, Draco muttered, "Thank you, Madam."
"Mr. Malfoy." Smiling faintly at the boy, McGonagall cast an amused glance at both Ron and Harry who were still gawking, and walked away.
Managing to actually close his mouth before Draco turned to look at him, Harry said quietly, "You do know she's right. Don't you?" His question was clearly said to Draco, but the way he nudged at Ron spoke volumes.
"Of course." The very familiar symbolism behind McGonagall's words still clear in Draco's mind made him simply raise his eyebrow.
Harry smiled at him; glad to see there was no trace of cringing left in his new friend. There were lots of things he could use to describe Draco Malfoy, but first and foremost he was a realist. He wished he could somehow say that to Ron as well, to step above whatever baggage they both carried and just focus on the reality of their life, say that yes, Snape was a greasy git and Draco wasn't a monster.
Looking at Ron, who was staring at his shoes with a strange expression on his face, Harry decided that he couldn't really say anything.
There were things you had to figure out for yourself.
"We should probably continue now," Dumbledore's voice came from the other side of the room.
For the first time in weeks, Harry's smile at the Headmaster wasn't strained. He knew that this meeting was mostly for show, a way to make people feel more in charge and to bring the Weasley brothers and Sirius in the middle of this, but they had said big things out loud today and for once, Dumbledore wasn't pushing him to take the lead.
Taking his seat again, he gestured for Draco to come and sit next to him. Again, there was an amused knowing look in Draco's eyes, telling him he knew exactly what he was doing and why.
As the meeting continued, Harry had to wonder if Draco was finally finding his own place, finished with the cringing and overwhelming despair as well as the haughty show of being a total bastard. It would be actually intriguing to find out just who Draco Malfoy really was.
He had to wonder if his new friend even knew himself.
Harry listened to the conversation that sprouted from Flitwick's hesitant comment about the Ministry absent-mindedly, trying to look like he was actually paying attention. He was tired and wanted to go to bed, but knew the day wasn't over yet. There were lots of things to do before he could crawl into his bed and huggle the covers close pretending they were Snape.
They discussed long into the evening, not only being brutally honest about the past but revealing more plans about the future as well. Harry didn't know just exactly which of their plans would be needed; if Voldemort would indeed not try attacking them first, they would have to discard lots of their old strategies and start thinking of new ones, fast.
He did know defense training would go on as planned. Madam Pomfrey would continue stocking healing potions while Snape brewed them. Sirius and Remus would leave tomorrow for a short spying trip.
Harry refused to think about the danger that put people in. There were so many things that could go wrong, and not only with those who went away. Who knew where the Dementors stayed and what was their plans and Harry had to admit that he wasn't even sure if the wards they had around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade would keep them away.
Maybe there really was no place they were safe.
A grim smile flickered on his lips as he said goodbye to everyone and then walked home with the small crowd of friends and family. Of course there was no place they were safe! It was the one thing he'd accepted a long time ago, because there really was no alternative.
He'd either face the reality or he could just as well walk into the cupboard under the stairs and hide there like a frightened child.
Seeing that Ron and Sirius were heading towards the kitchen for a late snack, he shook his head and muttered his excuses. He wasn't exactly tired, but there was such weariness inside he didn't think his words of needing a rest were exactly a lie.
The day had been too long with too many things and emotions to go through.
Harry walked up the stairs, heading straight to the bathroom. Taking care of the business, he stood at the sink for a while and then washed his face, not looking at his reflection.
Evening routines; washing his face, brushing his teeth and then the short walk to his room where he should probably change the routine a bit and hang his new robes properly instead of just tossing them on a chair. A smile touched his face, genuine mirth bubbling inside as he wondered what people would say if he appeared in public in crumpled robes.
That would probably just add rakishness to his new sexy look.
Harry shut the door behind him and froze as he felt something wrong. The very familiar crawling feeling on his skin made him pull out his wand without a thought, and he scanned his room to find out what had alerted him.
Everything was as he'd left it earlier today. The quilt on his bed was lopsided and there was a familiar sock on the floor by the window. A pile of books on the nightstand.
The wardrobe door was slightly ajar.
Tensing even more, Harry pointed his wand at the wardrobe and muttered a charm. When he could feel that there was no one hiding in the wardrobe, he frowned and then went to check it for himself.
He shook his head. Nothing felt wrong about the wardrobe; it was just the way it always was, with the addition of new spiffy clothes.
It was a bit odd. No one ever came to his room without asking first, but he could have sworn he'd closed the wardrobe door this morning before going downstairs for breakfast.
Shrugging, he pushed the door closed. So maybe he was a bigger slob than he wanted to think, or maybe Ron had needed something to borrow from him. Wouldn't be the first time.
He'd have to ask tomorrow.
Right now, he was just going to go into bed and try to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Already forgetting his plans about hanging his robes, he stripped down to his boxers, shoving all his clothes on the chair and crawled between sheets.
Downstairs, Ron was trying to decide whether or not he wanted some tea. It would be nice to drink something hot, even though his bladder would probably wake him up before dawn if he did.
He wasn't really thirsty, nor was he tired. He didn't want to give a name to what he was feeling right now, knowing very well where that would lead.
Damn the waiting and the endless meetings! He wasn't keen on squabbling with any of the people he lived with either. It made him feel jittery and out of place.
Slamming the kitchen door shut, he stormed to the stairs, deciding against tea after all. Too bad they had finished with that Firewhiskey. Becoming a heavy drinker like Uncle Bilius had a few years before the whole thing with the Grim was beginning to look better and better.
At least then he could blame his insanity on the drink and not on the fact that he was definitely losing his marbles.
Ron felt his feet become heavier as he climbed the stairs. He didn't want to pay attention to the flutters in his stomach. It wasn't important.
Reaching the hallway upstairs, he stood there for a moment, hoping that something would happen; that Hermione would call for him downstairs, that Harry would stumble into him. Anything to distract him.
When there was only the silence, Ron sighed and then raised his gaze from the hardwood floor. Seeing Malfoy stand at his open doorway didn't surprise him.
He didn't say anything, simply stared at the Slytherin. Malfoy's expression was bland, as if he was determined not to show any thoughts or emotions. Then with a slow curl of his lips, Malfoy smiled a little and stepped away from the doorway into his room.
Leaving the door open.
Ron knew that if he followed Malfoy, they would end up in bed together. It was as inevitable as the sunrise tomorrow. He didn't want to make this decision, knowing he'd be damned if he shagged the git now, for this would not be the last time. Thinking with his prick? Merlin, he wasn't thinking at all!
Stupid, addictive bastard! He shouldn't be so damn good in bed. The thought made Ron almost groan. Of course he had no idea how good Malfoy was in bed, but he did know he was brilliant on both the floor and the kitchen table.
He couldn't resist finding out.
Without a word, he walked into Malfoy's bedroom, locking the door firmly behind him.
