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 26: The Long Night Through

Ron Weasley stepped from the Floo, walked across his sparsely furnished flat, and flopped onto his couch, holding his head. He hadn’t been drinking, but he dearly wished he had. At least whiskey would have made it possible to forget what he’d just done. He sat back up, and massaged his temples for what felt like hours.

As soon as they’d come back in, he and Charlie had checked on their mother, and learned that she’d only been suffering the early symptoms of menopause. That had been sweet relief, but what came after had been sheer hell. Molly Weasley had inquired after Draco, who had only had a cut on his hand the last time she’d been conscious. When she learned that Ron had assaulted Draco again, this time nearly killing Draco in a blind rage, she had nearly snapped, and had to be restrained by Arthur and Charlie.

That had been bad enough…but then Harry found Draco upstairs, wrist slashed open to the bone, in a pool of his own blood. The others hurried upstairs to help, leaving Ron alone with his mother. The words still rang in his ears, despite his mother’s low and quiet tone of voice. The calm was more frightening than anything else…it made it clear that Molly Weasley was far past mere anger.

’Ronald Bilius Weasley, I hope you’re proud. You have just shamed our family for generations. That boy did nothing to me, or you, and you almost killed him. Our guest, to whom we granted sanctuary. Every person who as ever borne the name Weasley must be rolling in their grave with shame and disgust. Your hot head may have killed him this time. Draco has only just started to think that there are people he can trust to care for him, and you’ve ruined this house for him. He must have believed that there was no safety or comfort to be found here, or he would have done no such thing.’

“But…I’m sorry, mum! I’ll apologize to him…and I’ll make it up somehow. Please! Charlie and I talked about some things…I’ll change…I’ll be better…you’ll see, mum!”

“Not another word, Ronald. I’ve prayed ever since Percy’s foolishness that I would never have to live through something like that again, and you left me with scarcely any other choice.”

“Mum! NO! Please?!”

“You are not welcome in this house, Ronald. Take the Floo to your home, and stay out of my sight. Write letters if you will, and mind if you do, to write one to Draco, as well the rest of us who were here tonight, apologizing as best you know how, and we’ll see if you’ll earn the right to be a member of this family…by acting like one. Get out.”

He’d stood stock still, pale with shock and trembling like he wasn’t a grown man.

“Mum…I was just…”

“Get out, Ronald. Before I say something that cannot be taken back.”

“Bu-”

“OUT OF THIS HOUSE! NOW!!!”

Slumped in defeat, he’d returned here, to the flat he’d let last year. It wasn’t a home, really. More a place to occasionally pass out and store his gear. Bottles were everywhere, and he hadn’t cast the usual cleaning spells in weeks. Not all of the bottles were empty. There were a few full ones in the kitchen, calling out with a siren’s song that promised sweet oblivion, crashed upon the rocks of sweet and fiery alcohol.

Ron walked to the kitchen hesitantly, shaky in his stride for the first time in memory. There was a bottle of Old Ogden’s Finest, Special Reserve Firewhiskey, sitting by the sink. It was bottled in 1911. It sold for several hundred Galleons a bottle. It was one of the smoothest whiskeys known to man.

Ron pulled the cork. The aroma was magnificent. You could actually smell the faintest hint of the peat that had fired the mash as it cooked. This would soothe any ache…this would chase away any pain.

Ron turned the bottle upside down, and winced while it washed down the drain. The rest of the lesser Firewhiskeys went next, then the top shelf gin and vermouth. The rum, tequila and vodka followed, quickly chased by the cider, beer and a couple of bottles of half decent wine.

Finally, there wasn’t a drop of booze in the whole damned place, but he needed to get rid of the bottles…the reminders weren’t doing him any more good than the actual booze had. He settled on Transfiguring them, since the trash wasn’t due to be picked up for some time. The Transfigurations were simple at first, but got boring quickly, and he had lots of time to kill, now that sobriety was written into his future. Ron upped the ante a little and tried a few more complex pieces. He’d made small mammals into wine glasses before, and it was easier to shift a shape than it was to change a material. Glass to glass Transfigurations left him plenty of room for creativity, and he made small animals and large, complex ones and simple ones. Nearly past midnight, he found himself with only one bottle left, the Old Ogden’s. It took a fair while to get it right, but the mottled green glass that had held one of the world’s finest known whiskeys had become a small, green dragon, complete down to the very scales.

Ron sat up, suddenly more tired than he’d realized. The room was littered with tiny glass sculptures, trophies from his long night of sobriety. He had one last thing to do, before his courage wore thin. Ron went back to the Floo, and used just enough powder for a Firecall.

His head popped out of greenish flames in the home of his team’s coach and daily supervisor.

“Coach! Coach? It’s Ron. Ron Weasley. I need to talk to you. Are you up?”

A man of middle years with a slight paunch and heavy jowls emerged from the hall wearing a bathrobe. He looked in the fire and scowled.

“Merlin, Weasley! It’s past one in the blessed morning! What is it? And it better be important!”

“Coach. I’ll be ready to sit the game tomorrow, but I want an appointment after the game…with the specialist you told me about. You know…after I put those two fellas in the hospital during that match three months ago? I want an appointment as soon as I can get one. Okay?”

“Alright, alright, alright. Done deal. Now GO TO BED! The rest of us have a game tomorrow. Consider the appointment made. Good night!”

“Thanks, coach!”

Ron headed for bed. He didn’t sleep any more or less soundly than before, but he woke lighter hearted than he could recall feeling in months.

---------------------------------------------------


Harry was largely asleep, despite being upright and cramped in the chair beside Draco’s bed. When Draco came to consciousness, somewhere near four-thirty in the morning, Harry came awake also.

Draco woke with a gasp, panicked by nightmares that had finally begun once his mind was conscious enough to handle them. His head was pounding, and he was soaked in cold sweat. He remembered last night instantly, and turned to find Harry staring at him in the relative dark of the room.

“Harry. What…what are you doing here? It’s late.”

“You think I’d leave? After last night. After…I mean…Merlin, Draco. You fucking…”

Draco flopped back onto the bed and clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t look at Harry and still say these things.

“I…I know. Why did you stop me? I want to leave, Harry. I’m tired. I’m tired of nightmares, of people hating me for what I did to them years ago, all of it. I don’t have a future even if I get well. I’ll leave here and fall right back on my face. No one wants me, and I’m not fit to want, so it’s just better if I leave this shit behind.”

It was impossible to deny that Draco had it bad, and Harry stumbled over what to say. He sat up and folded his hands, trying to sound calm and rational. Mostly he wanted to grab Draco and hold him, and fighting that urge was exhausting. He’d never imagined being so happy to hear Draco’s voice. If someone had told him two weeks ago that he’d feel this way about Draco, he’d have laughed ‘til his sides split.

“Look, Draco. Ron’s an idiot…he was completely out of line and everybody knows it. Molly just has menopause. She’s fine. Nobody thought for a minute that you did anything to her, and we want you here.”

Draco choked back a sob. Harry didn’t get it at all. There were things he hadn’t dared to say, and wouldn’t have voiced if he’d had even a faint grip on his emotions.

“It hasn’t got to do with Ron! He’s just a part of it all…and not even a big part! Don’t you fucking understand?! I’M SCARED TO EVEN CLOSE MY FUCKING EYES! It’s too…too fucking much, Harry! I won’t ever be well. I can’t sleep without waking up screaming. I can’t stop thinking of…of things that happened. All the time. It never stops. You can make scars go away…but you can’t fix my head! There…there are moments…when I…I want to hold someone so badly my teeth ache, but their touch makes my skin crawl…and I wind up wanting to scream! I…I can’t take this anymore…being alone. When I was in London, there were drugs that made me forget, and when I was still sick, I was so feverish and numb I couldn’t think of anything…I don’t even have that anymore! Even if I get well, and the scars are gone, and I find somewhere to go…what will I do? NO ONE LOVES ME! And even if they did, I couldn’t let them touch me. Ron just made me realize it, and there’s nothing…nothing I can do to fix this! I’m sorry, Harry….I’m sorry…but I want to go. Please just let me go…please?”

Draco had broken down completely, letting his rambling explanation pass between small sobs and hysterical gasps. Harry’s hands were clenched together. He was dangerously close to just grabbing Draco, fears be damned, and pulling him close until he just understood that he was wanted and cared for. Harry drew a gasping breath, dropped to the edge of the bed, adopted a stance almost appropriate for prayer, and spoke as slowly and calmly as he could.

“I want you to listen to me, and I want you to let me finish before you say anything. I hear you…I heard what you said, and I know it looks like that right now, but you’re just wrong. You’re all wrong about this, and I’ll tell you why. We all care about you. Molly, Arthur, me…even Dula and Charlie. Ron was an idiot, and yeah, that’s a small part of things, but there’s more. Draco…I swear that, if I thought for one second that it wouldn’t scare you, I’d hold you until you felt ready to stand alone. Talk to Molly, no one here will throw you to the curb until you’ve worked out a way to get by. You can stay here as long as it takes to get well…in every sense…not just your body. I’m sorry I left you alone last night, I shouldn’t have, and I won’t from here on. I’ll be right here, for anything, if you need me. Draco…you were right. You were right…the night I went after Kaminski. I know it now. If you’ll just stay with us, I swear I’ll stop hunting. Just please don’t go. Don’t hurt yourself because we didn’t try hard enough to help you. We’ll find a way for you to sleep…we just need some time. Just a little time…please, Draco.”

Silence hung between them. Harry stared up at Draco with eyes that shone and pleaded, and Draco looked back, tentative and sniffling, unsure of what to say after such a display. Harry Potter…was begging him, on his knees, to stay…and to live. It was heady and intoxicating. Harry’s words felt better than any soothing balm or Calming Draught ever had. He’d begged sanctuary, and received it against all odds, but this was different. Being asked to stay here, being pulled from death’s door, and being told in no uncertain terms that he was wanted and cared for was more than he could wrap his mind around at the moment.

“You…you mean that?”

Harry exploded from the tension.

“Fuck, yes! Do you have any idea how much it hurt to find you like that…in my room? I don’t want you to die! I want you to be okay! I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll research until my brain boils over, I'll pull strings with whoever I have to…but I’ll find a way for you to sleep peacefully again…and if I can…I’ll find a way for you to be comfortable touching people too! Anything, Draco. I said it, and I knew what it meant, and I meant it when I said it! You’re not who I thought you were in school. I don’t know that person anymore. I know you…and I…I…I like you. I want you to be able to call you my friend…if you’ll let me.”

Harry was stumbling over the words at the end, and Draco‘s eyes were the size of saucers. Hearing things like this, coming from Harry’s mouth, had been more than he’d ever hoped for. He wiped his nose and eyes with an oversized sleeve and stifled himself in mid-sob.

“I…I believe you. I just…I just can’t believe I believe you, you know?”

Harry snorted, flooded with relief, and laid his head down on the edge of the bed as he let out a sigh.

“I know. There’s a lot of that going around. Ha! Thank you. Thank you. I hope you’ll forgive me, for the things I said and did to you. I won’t let you be hurt anymore, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you have a normal life again.”

Harry stiffened suddenly. A hand was in his hair! Draco…Draco was touching him! He relaxed when it seemed like Draco was going to pull away, terrified of offending him. The hand returned to idly working its way through his messy curls . Now that his hair was longer, it was easier to control, but it still curled at the top, and Draco was running a hand through it, sniffling every so often. The sensation was…well…pleasant, but hard to define. He knew it was all that Draco could do just to touch other people. Holding hands had shown that, when he needed to, Draco could bring himself to touch, but this was…something more, and Harry could feel the difference.

“Harry…if I asked for something…and you didn’t like it, would you promise me you wouldn’t…get upset?”

Draco’s hand was very still, and Harry didn’t even pause before answering.

“I promise. You have my word.”

“If…if I stayed under the sheets, and you just…just laid on the bed. Could I…would you let me hold you. I don’t think…I don’t think I could take someone touching me…but I could touch someone else. It’s been a long time. It would…help. I think I could sleep better…if I could hold someone. The only person I want to hold is you. Just tonight. Please?”

Harry’s pulse was pounding in his eardrums. Was Draco…gay? He didn’t dare take the request as more than it was, and if being a passive human teddy bear was a chance to be close to Draco, and help him, even if only a little, then it was enough. Harry didn’t answer with words. He stood up, pushed off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed, which was never intended for two. He stayed as close to his side as possible, and laid perfectly still, on his back, with his arms at rest by his sides. Draco shifted about, keeping the sheets between them like some last barrier to maintain a sense of dignity, but a sheet and blanket covered arm slid across Harry’s chest, and the warmth of closeness permeated him despite the layers of cloth between them.

Draco was curled on his side, facing Harry, breathing as slowly as he could bring himself to while his heart pounded erratically. He’d never been this close to anyone. Not Pansy, certainly not anyone since he’d left school, at least not in any innocent or healthy sense. That Harry would do this for him spoke volumes, and Draco relaxed into the hazy warmth that close proximity brought, suddenly aware of the different scents that Harry brought to the bed. Harry seemed stiff, reserved, and vaguely nervous, but right now Draco just didn’t care. He’d lived a lifetime without ever having been so close to another human being without pain and humiliation being involved, and this was easily the best thing he’d felt in years. This, this was almost what sane, normal people felt like, and it was a breath of fresh air in the stale and frightening confines of his mind.

Draco shifted again, a little closer, and rested his head on Harry’s arm, breathing softly and evenly. The faint aroma of Harry’s soap came to him, as well as faint hints of sweat and something like new mown hay. He let those scents cloud his mind, while sleep crept upon him again, at last, and stole all worry from his mind.

TBC!!!