Hard Time

A/N: Here we are! Coming to the climax of this tale. Enjoy. *g*


Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Fierce Attack


It took two days for Harry's temper to cool down. Draco focused on his other journal, what he liked to call his 'Death Eater list of deeds', because that was more or less what it amounted to, and none of it had been particularly voluntary. Even the wardrobe idea, while it had genuinely been his, had merely been a tactic to hopefully save his skin should he fail to complete his task, which of course had basically worked. Without it, he very much doubted Voldemort would have let him or his mother live.

Neither he nor Harry wanted to talk much about what Shacklebolt had told them. The meeting had been stressful and painful to Draco, but he'd expected that. He'd actually been rather proud of the fact that he hadn't panicked, cried, or fallen apart. Shacklebolt's words to him, however, had hurt. Deeply.

He was right, of course, and whatever little bubble of happiness they'd been living together had burst upon the cold hard fact of his prejudice. This wasn't any bloody Gryffindor he'd crawled into bed with; it was the bloody Saviour whom everybody would be looking up to, now that Voldemort was gone. And like Shacklebolt said, it wouldn't be Harry they'd blame for hiding his proclivities. It would be Draco who had sullied him. Corrupted him.

They hadn't had sex in those two days either. There was just too much on Draco's mind--Harry had tried to initiate it, the first night, but Draco had pleaded not to. He knew that had hurt Harry's feelings, because Harry hadn't asked again, though it was obvious that he wanted to. But it was too much for Draco at the moment, knowing that this thing they had was only temporary, and that afterwards he'd be alone again, no matter what the verdict. Sometimes it felt like there was a burning hole in his chest, eating its way out.

It was a pleasant day outside. Harry was brooding, locked up in Father's old study, and Draco felt that if he wrote one more bloody thing he'd done while Voldemort had been around, he would surely go mad. It was time to do something different. He strode up the hallway and banged on Harry's door. "Harry. I want to go outside. I want to show you something."

After a moment, Harry opened the door. He looked rumpled, as if he'd fallen asleep at the desk--and Draco thought he saw a red mark on his cheek which bore a striking resemblance to the corner of a book. Harry ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a worse mess than it already was. "What? What do you want to show me?"

Draco sighed. He wanted to punch Shacklebolt for making things awkward between them like this. Well, they were both in need of a distraction. "You'll see. Come on." He tugged at Harry's hand. "It's outside. We're going to take a little walk. Get some fresh air."

Harry gave a sigh. "All right. But just for a little." His voice was tight, nervous. "Ron said he may be stopping by."

Oh bloody great, Draco thought. They were obviously in for a charming afternoon. "Does he know, yet? About us?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied, following Draco down the stairs. "Hermione wanted to give him time to just get used to me helping you, before we talked about . . . other issues."

"Like the fact that you're gay." Draco could see where this was going. And if Harry couldn't even tell his best mate about him, then what did that really say? It said that he was ashamed of Draco. That he wouldn't want to keep him once there was a chance of other people finding out.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. They reached the patio doors which led out to the gardens, and Harry opened the door first, smiling a little at the flower beds where Draco and he had already worked to control the weeds. They looked rather good, to Draco's mind. And gardening was still a rich man's leisure activity. It wasn't like he'd actually worked. He waved a hand at Harry, indicating the path which led along the rose garden towards the orchard and the pond. "This way."

They walked along the path, and Draco mentally noted to himself that the roses needed to be trimmed, though it could probably wait until the fall. They looked spectacular, a blaze of every colour from white to blood red to palest lavender, blooming in the sun. The orchard was also in a state of neglect, growing wild and free in the heat of summer, past the season for most of the fruits and nuts. Remnants of plums and pears littered the ground; they must have been ready during the time the Manor was unoccupied. Draco gave a little sigh. They passed a high row of hedges, and reached the pond, which was left to a more natural state with shrubs and small trees providing cover for wildlife. Draco glanced at Harry, who was watching a family of black swan floating along on the dark waters, heads regally bowed. "I used to spend a lot of time here when I was young. It was something of a retreat for me."

Harry looked out at the pond, and then at Draco, and Draco knew the wheels must be turning; he could practically see the smoke rising from Harry's ears. Harry cleared his throat. "About . . . the other day." Draco knew which day, of course. The day that Kingsley had made them both doubt things. Draco continued to stare out at the pond, but he was listening with all his being.

"Yes?"

It seemed Harry was about to say something, something that would hopefully shed light for Draco on what the future would be like, whether it would be as he feared, or if Harry truly did care enough to stay with him. But at that moment, Kreacher appeared, looking perturbed. "Master Harry. Mr. Ronald Weasley is at the Manor. He says he will not wait for your return. He is coming down the path even now."

Sure enough, they could spot him, red hair highlighted in the sun as he made his way through the rose garden. Harry swore softly under his breath. Draco looked at him nervously. "Do you want me to go back to the house?" A thought occurred to him. "How did he get past the gates in the first place? Wasn't it warded?"

Harry chewed on his lip. "The manor is warded and shielded to the hilt. The grounds, however, aren't as protected. I didn't know how to achieve the greater area." He gave a pained smile. "Yeah . . . you'd better leave the two of us alone. I think you remember Ron's temper."

Was it Ron's temper Harry feared? Or that the Weasel would figure out about the two of them, that this 'project' was more than it appeared, Draco wondered. He was being shuffled off, like a dirty little secret. "Fine," he snapped, simply done with it all. Harry could fend for himself. He started heading back up the pathway. When he passed by Ron, they exchanged scowls. Draco paused as he heard Ron calling out Harry's name. He decided to duck behind the hedges and listen in. This would probably tell him more clearly than any speech how things really would be if he were set free.

"Oi, Harry! What the bloody hell are you up to, living here? I thought you'd cracked completely when I heard the news!" Ron's hair was almost embarrassingly long; Draco wasn't sure if he was trying to look like his older brother or preparing for a drag show. It was even more unruly than Harry's, and that was saying something. He looked taller and more muscular as well, and Draco rubbed absently at his face, recalling the invisible punch in the castle when he'd faced the two Death Eaters. He was almost positive it had been Weasley.

Harry shrugged, picking up a rock to skip it across the pond. "I saw something that I didn't think was right, and I stepped in to fix it, I suppose. They were killing him, Ron. Nobody deserves that. Not even . . . Malfoy."

"He tried to kill me, 6th year, or have you forgotten that? And Hermione tells me she had the both of you over for dinner. What the hell for? You don't Owl me, you don't come to visit, and Ginny won't tell me what's going on between the two of you . . ." Ron shook his head. "Personally? I think you've completely lost it this time. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong. I've just--" Harry exhaled a frustrated breath. "I've had to do some thinking, about what I want for the future. It didn't feel right, staying at the Burrow. It's over now between Ginny and me--she'll tell you why. There just wasn't anything there. She said it felt like we were brother and sister. And I've since come to figure out why." He fell silent for a moment, picking up another rock, holding it in his hand. Draco could see the profile of his nose, the hard set of his lips. Harry continued. "Hermione didn't think I should tell you yet. But hell, Ron. You deserve to know--you're still my best mate. I'm gay. And no, I've never been attracted to you, so don't even go there." He glared at Ron, and tossed the rock in with a splash.

Draco could have laughed at the expression on Ron's face--gobsmacked would be a good description. Apparently whatever Ron had expected Harry to say, this hadn't been it. And for that, Draco was proud of Harry. He hadn't actually thought he'd do it. But when Ron's brows drew together in anger, Draco knew Harry was in for it.

"You--you're . . . blimey! You're joking! You have to be joking! Harry? A bloody--" If Ron had called Harry a poof, then Draco would have had to hex him to oblivion right there; he had his wand out ready. But Ron never had the chance.

A low growl was their only warning, as a mangy beast crept out of the brush near the shore, with paws that half resembled hands and a great mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. A wolf, but no natural wolf, this. It stood there, its body language saying, Look at me. You know who I am. Draco felt his heart stop. Greyback. He'd apparently gotten past the outdoor wards.

"Oh cripes," Ron whispered.

Harry and Ron pulled out their wands at the same time, but the werewolf was already charging. Harry shot off a stunning curse, but it missed Greyback, sparking off the rocks instead. Ron never even managed to get his mouth working, and then with a great swipe of a paw, his wand was sent flying into the pond.

Draco was frozen with indecision. Should he run out and help? And what good could he do? If he stunned the werewolf, then perhaps Harry could send for help . . . and what would they do? They'd try to lock up Greyback. In Azkaban. Where he'd either escape . . . or prey on others there. Others like Draco, if he didn't win his case. And what if his stun spell didn't work, and Greyback saw him, and attacked? It was the old fears, all over again. Draco bit back a whimper. He didn't want to die, not like this. Worse, he didn't want to become a werewolf.

But Harry!

Draco had his own wand out and pointing, and as he hesitated, choking on his own fear, Greyback knocked Ron to the ground, obviously discounting him as a serious threat, snarling instead at Harry. As Ron looked helplessly towards the pond, Harry tried to stun the werewolf again, but Greyback was too fast. His great maw was open, and aimed at Harry's throat.

"Avada Kedavra!" There was no time to think, no time to feel afraid. Draco wasn't going to let Greyback hurt Harry, as simple as that. And he felt a rush of power, of killing rage at Greyback, for daring to come here, for daring to strike. Green light flew out of his wand, striking Greyback in the chest.

Greyback fell to the earth, transforming back into a man as he dropped dead at Harry's feet. Harry's eyes were wide with disbelief, his hand shaking. Slowly, his eyes met Draco's.

"You killed him!" Ron was staring at Draco as well, in utter disbelief. "You actually killed him. That was brilliant!" He stood up, dragging his hand through the red mop of his hair, as Harry slowly put down his wand. Harry looked paler than death.

"You used an Unforgiveable," Harry said in a faltering voice. Realisation came crashing down on the immense relief Draco had felt that Harry was alive, unhurt. The Wizengamot would know. All they had to do was test their wands. It wasn't as if they could hide something like this. He began shaking himself, not daring to come closer. He couldn't let Harry die. But he might just have sacrificed himself in the saving.

Ron looked mystified. "But he would have killed us, Harry. Or at the very least, turned us both into werewolves. It was an Unforgiveable, yeah. But what timing!" He nodded at Draco, looking him over with a grudging admiration. "Thanks. Maybe you're not such a prat after all."

Draco wanted to tell Ron he still was an idiot, but this probably wasn't a good time for that. He felt sick to his stomach now, in the aftermath of everything, and lost and afraid. Hadn't he stepped forward so that he could defeat his fears? "I've mucked up everything, haven't I."

Shaking his head, Harry walked over. He looked worried, but resolute. "Maybe not. The Ministry allows Aurors to use Unforgiveables when dealing with Death Eaters, right? Cripes; I used two of the three myself, trying to reach Voldemort."

"But this was the death--" Draco began.

"Mum used the death curse against your aunt Bellatrix," Ron added, following Harry over towards Draco. "Ministry didn't punish her for that."

Draco felt pain twist his smile into a grimace. "But she wasn't a Death Eater before."

Harry nodded sadly. Draco felt his chest constricting tight, and knew the tears were going to come again. He really didn't want Weasel-boy witnessing that, especially when he didn't know where Harry stood on things. He didn’t even want Harry seeing it at the moment. So Draco turned away. Maybe suicide still wasn't such a bad idea. He felt something sharp and unpleasant go through him at the thought. Oh right. The Vow. He didn't even have that option open to him any longer.

He was surprised when Harry's arms wrapped around him in a hard squeeze. "No, she wasn't. But you just saved both our lives. I'm pretty damned sure that will count for something, Draco. You're not going back to Azkaban." Harry turned him around, and then to Draco's complete astonishment, leaned in to kiss him full on the mouth. He heard Ron's gasp, and was pretty sure if there had been breath left inside him that he'd be gasping too. Instead, he felt some of the fear melting away, in the force of Harry's grip and the power of his kiss. If Harry was willing to do that in front of Ron, then maybe, just maybe, they actually did have a chance.

When Harry broke off the kiss, Draco knew he was blushing. "You really will help me. Even after everything Shacklebolt said."

Harry nodded. "I think I know why he said those things. He knows better than anyone what we'll be facing. I'm still pretty pissed off that he said them. I don't care if I'm their bloody hero. I'm still going to have my own life, and they can all be damned for all I care. I've earned it."

"I must be dreaming," Ron said. He was staring at Harry as if he'd grown a second head. Draco glared at him, warning him with a look not to say anything, anything bad against Harry right now. "I think I need to lie down. I'm feeling a bit faint."

That got a little smile from Harry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out this way. Honestly. It just sort of . . ." He glanced at Draco, and then back. Harry shrugged. "Happened."

"And Hermione knew? Why does Hermione always get to know first? When do I get to know something first?" Ron was clearly struggling to come to grips with the sight of Harry and Draco holding each other, but Draco had to give him points. He wasn't foaming at the mouth, or hexing either of them. Although it did look like he might collapse of shock.

"Hermione's always going to be the one who figures things out first; better get used to it, Ron, if the two of you are going to be together." Harry patted Draco's arm reassuringly, then walked over to Ron. "Yeah, so . . . I figured out I was gay while I was helping Draco out. And he's changed--not in every way, of course. But he's not a Death Eater any more. And he's trying to be less, uh, you know, snobbish. So give him a chance, okay?" Harry pointed his wand to the pond and called out, "Accio, Ron's wand!" He handed Ron back his wand after it flew into his hand, still dripping wet.

Ron took it with a grimace, picking off a bit of pond scum. "It smells like duck doo doo." He pocketed the wand, and looked at Harry again, then Draco. He still looked dumbfounded, but then Draco remembered that was his customary look. Finally, Ron wagged a finger in Harry's face. "I'm still mad at you. You need to come visit Mum and Dad and everyone; they miss you. And I still think you're completely barmy." He huffed, crossing his arms. "But I'll give the idea a chance. Just don't . . . "He waved his hands in the air, indicating Harry and Draco. "No kissing in front of my parents!"

By the look on Ron's face, Draco suspected it was more Ron and not his parents who didn't want to witness their kissing. But more likely than not, if he was going to remain friends with Harry, he'd probably have to get used to it. If not Draco, then some other fellow. Draco was pretty certain Harry wouldn't quietly hide his nature, now that he knew it.

For now, Harry was grinning. "Fair enough. I kind of think of your mum as a second mum to me, so yeah. No kisses in front of her. That's for the best, I think." He sighed as he looked over again at the body by the side of the pond. "I guess we'd better owl the Ministry. Kingsley's going to have a fit."

Ron blew out a breath as well. "I'll testify as a witness. Blimey, can you imagine if he'd sunk his claws into me when he threw me down?" He shuddered, and Draco gave silent thanks to the powers that they'd all escaped harm.

It was slowly sinking in. He'd saved Harry's Potter's life. The life debt was returned.

And the trial was going to be more interesting than ever.

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TBC

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