Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 24: The Man In Black


Dula and Charlie arrived shortly after Arthur had gotten in from work. Ron hugged his older brother fiercely, and hugged Dula only a little gentler than that. Arthur and Molly made the rounds next, and finally Harry exchanged embraces with Charlie and his lover. Cider was passed about, and Molly headed for the kitchen to set the table for supper, wondering if Draco might come down after all. She’d been up there earlier, and so had Harry, but Draco complained of feeling a bit ill and panicky about company, so they relented and left him be.

Arthur launched into a lengthy description of a cursed automobile, a Muggle bank executive, and several thousand pounds in fines for illegal parking. Apparently, the vehicle in question had been cursed to move itself to the nearest illegal parking space, shortly after its owner had left it. It had taken an entire team of Curse-Breakers all day to set things right, and many a Muggle policeman had been Obliviated before it was all over. There was a fair amount of laughter, but overall, the mood was subdued and peaceful.

Dula inquired after Draco’s health, polite to a fault, and was disappointed to hear that Draco had decided to stay abed. Harry shrugged, acknowledging that he was confused about Draco’s shifting moods as well.

“What a shame. I’d rather hoped to meet your houseguest.”

Dula tactfully avoided mentioning Harry’s earlier conversation with them, and simply segued to lighter topics. Ron challenged his brother to a round of wizard chess, and was busily trouncing his sibling. Arthur, Harry and Dula soaked up cider and chatted amiably, and Molly had dinner set before they knew it. Dula politely excused himself, and headed for the bathroom, while the others made their way to supper. In the upstairs hallway, there was only one room with light coming from beneath the door, and Dula knocked lightly.

“It’s open…come in.”

Draco looked up from his book and gaped openly at the man who had just entered the room. Dula was dressed entirely in black, but unlike the dull matte of Harry’s combat gear, these were fashionable dress clothes of exceptional quality. His hair was unbraided, and hung more than a foot and a half below his hips, straight and smooth as black silk. His bearing was aristocratic yet relaxed, the artless art of the nobly born, and given the man’s slightly darker complexion and sparkling brown eyes, he looked and carried himself like a youthful reverse image of Lucius Malfoy, dark where Lucius was light. His smile was disarming and vaguely amused, and his presence was towering, despite being only an inch or so taller than Harry. When he spoke, his accent was detectable, but his English was more than merely fluent. Draco couldn’t seem to do anything but listen, staring at the stranger that had just dominated the small room.

“And you must be Draco Malfoy. We came so far, and Charlie and I have little enough time away from work. It seemed a tragedy to miss a chance to meet the guest that Harry spoke of so kindly.”

Draco stared in shock as the gentleman in black sat in the chair across the bed from him, and offered a hand to shake in greeting.

“I am Dula, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Draco. It is customary to shake hands, when you meet someone for the first time, is it not?”

Draco snapped back to reality, closed his book and held out a hand, albeit with a certain nervousness, but he reminded himself that anyone who meant harm wouldn’t be in a house protected by Harry.

“Please…it’s just Draco now. Good to…uh…meet…you. You’re Charlie’s…umm…friend, right?”

Draco stumbled over words, flushing almost crimson with embarrassment while Dula took his hand and shook it twice, then returned to a relaxed and elegant sprawl in the other chair.

“Yes. I am that. As well as somewhat more, though that is, as they say, neither here nor there. Molly’s dinners are a rare treat, and I should say that it would be a pity to miss even one. Are you certain that you don’t wish to join us? They seemed worried for you, but you look well. It appears that they‘re quite fond of you. You would be missed, you know.”

Draco sat, dumbfounded by Dula’s statements. He hadn’t been here, how could he say such things with that tone of certainty? All Draco had wanted was to be left alone…but…what Dula had said first, about Harry.

“Harry? What did he say about me? When did you talk to Harry?”

It came out like a challenge, mingled with the anger he felt about being interrupted, but in his heart it was almost a plea. Dula was utterly nonplussed, and smiled warmly.

“He came to our home for dinner last week. We’re only really a Floo trip away. I believe it wasn’t long after you’d first arrived. He was quite impressed with you. He found it more than a little confusing, since I’m told that you were not the best of friends in school, but he remarked that you were very brave, and that you were stronger than he’d ever imagined you were. Harry killed a Dark Lord at the height of his power…twice. I should take being called brave and strong by such a man as Harry…well, I should take it as high praise indeed.”

Draco swallowed heavily. It was like someone was dangling a magnificent illusion in front of him, and he desperately wanted to be hypnotized by it, but he didn’t have any room for illusions left in him, and anything resembling blind faith or idle hope had long since been beaten and buggered away.

“He didn’t say that…those things. You’re lying. What do you really want? Why did you even come up here?”

“Draco. I have nothing to gain from lying to you…and there is nothing you possess which I desire. Any words I offer you are merely my thoughts, and in the case of Harry’s words, my memories. I understand that you might have issues of trust, but it is unseemly to call a man a liar without just cause. Have I given you offense? I only wished to meet you, and inquire as to whether or not you would take supper with the rest of us. The matter lies completely in your hands.”

Dula’s logic was impeccable, and Draco crumbled while his instincts warred with his rational mind. He didn’t want to be forced to think, and he was already desperately tired, but he’d been raised an aristocrat, albeit a spoiled one, and his upbringing told him to act more like one now.

Draco raised his chin. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for. I shouldn’t have said that. You haven’t given offense. If anything, you’ve been too kind. Dula, they said your family are wizarding nobility in Europe. If I may ask, what is your surname?”

“You may ask, but I no longer use it. You are not the only wizard who has a last name that no longer serves him well. My grandfather served a Dark Lord, and was high among his counselors, but when that Dark Lord was defeated, by Albus Dumbledore, my grandfather was sentenced to Azkaban, and ultimately, to the Kiss. My father labored for many years to restore our family name, but the tarnish remains despite his wealth and connections. My father and I disagree about many things, and we have made a sort of peace, but I left behind everything…to be who I am now. I do not need wealth, for he who has love is wealthy beyond measure. I do not need influence or power, for I have power over myself, and no one can take that from me. I do not need the shelter of a name, because it has no value save that which people give it. I am simply…Dula, and by some reckonings, that is more than enough.”

Draco listened, enraptured despite his earlier apprehension. Dula’s family had been in the service of a Dark Lord…and Draco understood perfectly what that felt like. The subject was of very immediate relevance to Draco’s current situation, and he found himself comfortable as long as he didn’t think about Dula’s ’preferences’.

Draco unrolled his sleeve. The faded Mark was still quite visible on his pale skin. Draco stared at it a moment before he spoke.

“I wish I could leave that behind. Names you can drop, this…I’ll have this as long as I live. I can’t get away from my past that easy. People will always see this before they see me, and I don’t think it matters what I do, I just can’t change it.”

“Draco. People will always see what they choose, Mark or no. Those who are looking clearly enough, like Molly, or Harry, will see who you are, not who you were. I make no pretension about it being easy. In Prague, there are still doors that are closed to me, even two generations after my family’s disgrace, and that is regardless of the fact that my lover is a man.”

Draco winced at the comment, and Dula looked at him curiously, then spoke with a very sober and serious tone that pulled Draco’s attention to him unerringly.

“You are discomforted by such things. My apologies. I should have known. Harry only said that you were hurt by others, but he would not share confidences that were not his own. I did not realize that the subject would cause you concern. I think, perhaps, that you will not like what I say to you next, but it is something I think you need to hear, and I hope that you will listen with an open mind.”

Draco paused with apprehension, simply nodding nervously, wondering what Dula had to say that was so important.

“Draco, I do not know what you see when you look upon people like Charlie and myself, but I suspect you have seen things that bear only the most superficial similarity to our lives. I hope you will look deeper than the surface of things, and see that people who love one another, whatever their sex, are no threat to anyone. Those who are motivated only by lust or hate…they exist in great numbers, and you cannot judge the many for the actions of such a despicable few. Those who look upon your Mark, and do you an injustice by believing they know you by that alone, are arrogant fools, and they have missed a chance to see the person you really are, or the friend that you could be. It is their loss. Do not cost yourself opportunities for friendship or for happiness as they have. Anyone who has impressed Harry so, deserves better than to conduct themselves that way.”

Draco turned his head away toward the window, hoping the blush that just risen on his cheeks wouldn’t give him away completely. Dula waited in silence, the stood to leave. Draco built up the nerve to finally answer.

“Thank you. I…uh…I have some things to think about. I’ll…I’ll see if I feel like coming down for dinner later. I don’t know. It was nice to meet you…Dula.”

Dula bowed gracefully. “As it was to meet you, Draco. If I do not see you again tonight, do remember that Charlie and I are only a Firecall away. Good night, Draco.”

And then he was gone, and Draco was alone, sitting in a chair with a half read book that he couldn’t remember even being interested in. Dula was…well, kind of overwhelming. It was kind of like being near a volcano, and Draco was still reeling from the experience. It did make him a bit envious, though. Dula carried off the attitude that he’d tried to emulate in school, but where Draco had come off as a spoiled brat, Dula seemed like a polished prince…and a friendly one at that.

‘He was nice. Where does he get off acting that cool and wise? Bet he drives Charlie crazy, acting like that at home. Harry…if Harry said those things about me, he must at least like me a little. Enough not to throw me through any windows if I look at him wrong and can’t help it. I hope he comes up here tonight. He promised he would. I don’t want to be alone.’

The scent of dinner wafted through the open door to Draco’s room, and his stomach growled immediately. Despite being well fed for more than a week, Draco’s appetite was still ferocious. Draco made up his mind. Dinner wouldn’t be that much of a torment, even with company, and he didn’t want to fall asleep and disturb them with his nightmares during their supper, did he? How better to stay awake than to just join in for awhile?

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Arthur looked at the assembled persons at the table. Molly was just to his left, with Charlie and Dula beside her, and Ron was at his right, with Harry just after him. It was a pity Draco hadn’t felt well. Molly always outdid herself when the any of the boys came home, and he’d nearly gotten himself hexed trying to pinch a few bites before supper. Still, it was good to see Charlie and Ron again, and Dula was always excellent company. The food was perfect, and for the middle of the work week, he couldn’t have been happier. The corner of his eye glimpsed blond hair, and Arthur looked up, and everyone’s eyes followed his.

“Ah! Draco! I was afraid we wouldn’t see you at the table tonight. Sit down…sit down. There’s plenty left, and none of it bad. Our Molly was at her best again. There’s a chair by Harry. Whatever you do, don’t miss a helping of the ham. It was worth risking my fingers to get an early slice, and it’s even better now! Enjoy.”

Draco sat down quietly, failing to prevent a blush that was stealing its way across his cheeks, and when he looked up, Dula was smiling. Harry leaned in and whispered to Draco suddenly.

“Sorry about last night…really. I’m glad you made it down. Go on, tuck in, mate…everything’s delicious.”

Draco nodded his assent, not trusting himself to say anything without gushing like a complete sissy. Harry had called him ‘mate’. His heart was pounding in his chest while he took helpings from each dish and filled his plate, but when he looked in Dula’s direction, he saw that Charlie’s lover was smiling at him, and ever so discreetly, gave a nod of approval that was barely perceptible to anyone else. Draco looked back at his plate, and let himself enjoy supper with the rest of them. He felt somewhat less out of place than he’d imagined, and it wasn’t long before he was talking with the others.

Ron was on about getting back to practice after the game tomorrow, and Charlie was telling his mother about the rare dragon that had been confirmed as pregnant, and required additional care. Dula told gently mocking stories of Charlie’s exploits while handling dragons, and Charlie took them in stride, while his parents and brother laughed.

Dinner passed easier than Draco had imagined, and he wondered why he’d even worried about it at all. Charlie Weasley was likable enough, but the small gestures between him and Dula didn’t escape Draco’s notice at all. The brief, but warm, looks from across the room, or the way their fingertips brushed against each other’s, all registered with Draco instantly. It was painfully easy to see that these two people loved each other, doted on each other, and that each lived to see to the other’s happiness. If their relationship had a dark side, it was hidden well indeed. Draco knew it was wrong, but a sick jealousy filled him when he saw these things. Things he hadn’t had, and likely would never have. It hurt to see such things, knowing that, even if he’d dared to hope for something like that, the very thought of it was ruined for him now. It was easier to turn away, and force himself to not witness these things, but the knowledge that they were possible could not be erased, and it left a feeling of emptiness in him when the initial jealousy faded.

They’d moved to the living room after dinner, and Charlie was seated comfortably on the couch with an arm thrown around Dula’s shoulders, and Dula had a hand on Charlie’s leg. Draco decided to help Molly in the kitchen, rather than face any more disconcerting reminders about his need to think over a few long held beliefs and ugly fears, and Molly welcomed his company.

Draco picked up the silverware, plates and other dishes, fetching them to the counter beside the sink for Molly to start washing. Then, Draco took his place beside her, drying things as Molly finished them.

“I’m so glad you came down after all, dear. It just didn’t seem right, all of us together and you upstairs. I hope you enjoyed yourself…”

Molly gasped as Draco, exhausted from lack of sleep, let a knife he was drying slip and open his palm up quite badly. Blood dripped down the hand and onto his wrist and cuff, while Draco stared at the gash in complete surprise, too stunned to feel pain just yet.

Molly rushed to her wand on the table, urging Draco to hold still. Just as she turned with her wand in hand, her eyes became vague, and her face flushed quite suddenly, then she went terribly pale.

“Oh…oh dear. Dr-draco. Help me…help…I…”

Molly tumbled to the floor in front of him, collapsed in an ungainly sprawl, and Draco felt like his heart had just stopped cold. A second later, he screamed for help, and fumbled for the wand she’d dropped. He knew a few diagnostic spells, having heard them so often over the last week, and he prayed that she wasn’t seriously ill.

Ron reached the room first, only to find Draco standing over his fallen mother, holding her wand in one hand, and blood dripping from his other, spattering the floor with droplets of red. Draco tried to get words out, but the look on Ron’s face paralyzed him with terror, and the last thing he remembered was a roaring, red-haired giant crashing into him at full speed. This time, the world did not immediately go dark, but after a flurry of blows that made the ribs in his chest heave and crack, blinding pain in his chest stole his ability to even speak, and breathing was rapidly becoming difficult. He remembered retching and gasping for air, and he saw the bloody foam he coughed up spat upon the kitchen floor. His last conscious thought as his eyes closed, was a swift and silent prayer for Molly, and a frantic hope that, if he was dying, Harry would know that he‘d only meant to help.

TBC!!!