A Dream For The Dead

A Dream For The Dead

Chapter 28

But Where’s Your Heart?

There are some things that one should never tempt. One should never tempt history to repeat itself, because, it will unfailingly do so. One should never tempt the weather because the East Sun and the North Wind are fickle lovers and, when you most need a storm, the skies will be clear, just as when you most need clear skies, you will find nothing but overcast grey. Those of religious beliefs would claim that one should never tempt a god, for they are easily angered and doubly vindictive. Most importantly, however, it is common knowledge that one should never tempt Fate.

But Harry Potter was never daunted by primeval threats. He had, after all, tempted Fate innumerable times in his life, thus far. He had even gone so far as to taunt Death by his insistence on sustaining life. Therefore it should hardly have been a surprise to Draco to discover that Potter had, one again, tempted Fate and escaped unscathed.

Mostly unscathed, he told himself, taking in the subtle details of Potter’s eyes. They were full of a world of hurt and anger. For the first time he could really remember, the anger and hurt was not directed at Draco.

Not entirely, anyway.

The most ancient tradition of the wizarding world was that of Binding Magic. They were spells and incantations that could be traced back to Merlin and Queen Mab herself. They were pacts designed in a time when no wizard could trust another in any measure. The Unbreakable Vow was one such instance of ancient magic.

The Vow was first used to bind King Arthur to Guinevere in marriage. There were specific vows outlined, much as any marriage ceremony dictates, to bind them together permanently. Neither Arthur nor Guinevere were wizards, but Magic was so deeply ingrained in everything throughout the age of Faerie worship. Everything was magical, in some way. The Vow was meant to protect the King from betrayal, to protect his claim to the throne.

Guinevere broke the terms of the Vow and, as a result, Arthur was struck down and, along with him, went the Kingdom, in keeping with the outlines of the Vow. Guinevere was meant to be the lifeline of Camelot. She failed. It fell.

The time in history was dark and marriage was considered a far more deadly serious matter than it is now. Thus all marriages were cemented by the taking of an Unbreakable Vow. Many deaths throughout the Middle Ages, in the wizarding world, could be accounted for by couples breaking the Vow –intentionally or not.

Over time, the Ministry was established and it was decided that faithfulness in and the protection of marriage should no longer be enforced by use of the Vow. The ceremony performed in marriages, then, began to change. Only purebloods maintained anything close to the original ritual. Though breaking the Vow was no longer punished by death, the majority of the wizarding world still regarded separation as taboo and reckless. It was rare practice in wizarding households.

Draco, himself, had not completed the traditional marriage ritual upon wedding Aurora. He had outlined his own version beforehand. For his own safety and for the safety of the son that would inevitably come from their union. The son that had to come from their union.

Potter, it seemed, held no such restrictions on his marriage. And the Weasley girl -woman -was a pureblood, after all. Whatever else she might be.

“Potter,” Draco said quietly, sitting himself down at the desk to Potter’s right, rather than returning to his chair. “You realize that you didn’t actually engage in an Unbreakable Vow. Not strictly speaking, anyway.”

Potter grimaced and shut his eyes, letting his head drop forward slightly. He didn’t breathe for a number of moments before Draco reached out to see if he was still alive. Potter, seeming to sense the gesture, looked up abruptly and Draco pulled back his hand.

“You don’t understand,” he said harshly. “It doesn’t matter if it was a strict Vow or not. They were vows, Ginny and I took. I don’t take marriage lightly, Malfoy. I did not intend to bind my life to hers on a whim.” His eyes were fierce and blazing. Draco felt, then, that he understood far better than Potter would ever believe. Draco would have given anything to engage in a proper marriage ritual. The only reason he hadn’t was because he knew he wouldn’t be binding his life to someone he truly loved. “Ginny, it seems, thought otherwise. So don’t you fucking pretend for a moment that you’ve got any idea what my life is like.”

The words were gruff and full of anger. Potter was seething and tense. Draco nodded to nothing in particular and wondered to himself how their Vow had been broken. If it was a traditional ritual, then there were only a handful of options to break it. Death was the top of the list, but given that neither Weasley nor Potter were dead, it was not a possibility. After that, the most likely reason for the dissolution of a marriage vow was adultery.

But Potter is not the cheating type… he would never have…

Then it struck Draco that Potter was not the one who did the cheating. His breath caught in his chest and he felt himself getting inexplicably angry. Disgust and displeasure coursed through him and he fought the urge to wretch.

The Weasley bint cheated on Potter? Harry fucking Potter? Either she was completely daft or she was completely evil. Draco considered that both were possibilities.

He never trusted her.

“Potter,” he said again, his voice somewhat more soothing. He paused, wondering if, perhaps, he shouldn’t try to instigate a row between them. If Draco could get under Potter’s skin (which, of course, was one of his greatest talents), then Potter could vent and release all his anger. Draco could take it. But then, why should Draco subject himself to Potter’s ire for no reason? He set his jaw. “She cheated on you.”

Draco wasn’t sure what he expected in response. Perhaps he expected stubborn denial, or a snarl warning him to mind his own business, possibly including expletives.

“Yes,” Potter answered, his voice sounding more animal than Draco had ever heard it before. Draco froze in surprise. Potter ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand even further on end, if it was possible. Draco shuddered involuntarily.

“Then it’s understandable that you separated from her,” he offered, unsure of why he was suddenly trying to comfort Potter. Hadn’t Draco’s wife just been abducted by a madman? Wasn’t Potter supposed to be comforting Draco and not the other way around? Draco shrugged off logic when Potter looked up at him again with the same fierce look in his eyes, this time mixed with a blind fury.

“I didn’t separate from her,” he ground out. Draco frowned. “She separated from me.” He gave a humourless laugh. “She said we would both be happier this way. It was for the benefit of everyone.” He laughed again and it sounded like rocks grinding against brick. “What a load of bollocks. I told her we would work it out, that we could make the effort together to change things, to make it better.” He seemed to be talking to himself now, more than Draco. Draco allowed it. His sharp eyes watched Potter’s movements and gestures. He seemed to be edging further towards the absurd, as though nothing really made any sense. “She told me I would never forgive her and that, this way, we could both move on.”

“She already had moved on,” Draco offered quietly. He knew that feeling as well. Potter nodded.

“Obviously,” he snapped. He ground his teeth and glared at the wall in front of him. “See, I had always known that she still fancied me while she was dating all those other blokes in school,” he offered with the same mirthless laugh. “What I didn’t know, was that while she was with me, she still always fancied him.”

“Who?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. He needed to know who it was that the She-Weasel picked over Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World.

“Dean Thomas,” Potter spat as though the name were a foul taste on his tongue. Draco nearly gaped. The only thing he allowed himself was the arch of one eyebrow. He fought and won a battle against laughing. He knew it would do nothing to calm Potter. Potter didn’t seem to notice. “What’s worse, is that Molly was right all along. Just about the wrong couple.” Draco searched his mind. Who is Molly? Oh yes. The Weasel-Mother. “She was so worried about Billy marrying Fleur because she said that the war made people act recklessly and rush into things.” He paused and shrugged at nothing. Draco knew that he was only incidental in Potter’s speech now. He was talking in order to talk. Apparently, he had never done that before. “After the war, I was so relieved that I had survived, that she had survived that I proposed and we just… got married. Never stopped to think about anything, to consider the repercussions or the responsibilities. And now, look. Bill and Fleur are still happily married and Ginny and I are divorced.”

Draco was caught. He had never been good at dealing with such a blatant display of emotions. No one in his family was, except for his mother and then only in private. He wanted to offer Potter some kind of comfort, before he remembered that he was the one who should be asking for comfort, not Potter.

“If you were so bothered by the idea of separation,” Draco began quietly, unsure of where he was heading with this. He just needed to know. “Then why didn’t you actually fight for her? Why didn’t you demand you try to work things out? Legal Separation requires both sides be willing.”

Potter’s face changed then. It became cold and flat. It was entirely unnerving. He should never look like that.

“Because she was right, really,” he said, his voice distant. He looked Draco in the eyes and Draco felt his blood run cold. He looked, in that moment, entirely unlike himself. The shadows in his eyes had almost completely obscured his irises and he had a mask over his true self that was remarkably reminiscent of someone Draco had not seen in nineteen years. Snape. “I never will forgive her.”

Draco stared at him in silence for what seemed like forever. Neither spoke, nor looked away. Draco was lost in his fear that Potter would turn into Snape –bitter, resentful and ultimately alienated from the world –and Potter seemed to be entirely willing to accept that fate. Did he even notice? Did he realize that he was wandering down a similarly tread path?

“You can’t know that, Potter,” Draco said suddenly, unaware of his own voice. It was as though someone was speaking through him. He felt his heart beating faster and faster and found himself unconcerned by the idea that it might just burst out of his chest. “This is a Weasley you’re talking about. You always go back to them in the end. You’ll forgive her eventually. It just takes time.”

At that, Potter actually burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter. Draco was torn between the desire to punch him and the desire to flee. It was steadily moving towards frightening.

“It’s been seven years,” Potter informed him with an odd sort of vindication in his words. “Seven years since our separation. And I’m still bloody angry about it. So angry I sometimes lose control of my magic, when I’m alone. That’s not normal, Malfoy. Not if forgiveness is on the horizon.”

Draco stared, stunned. This did not happen often to him, given how little actually surprised him anymore, but Potter had managed to accomplish it several times in one evening. Seven years? How is it that Draco had never heard of this separation? How is it that no one had ever mentioned it? This was Harry Potter. The entire wizarding world was obsessed with him since he was in swaddling clothes. How did no one know?

“Seven years?” he asked becoming rapidly disbelieving. Potter leaned back in his chair, still looking at Draco, his eyes full of a dangerous sort of amusement. He seemed to be enjoying the spectacle he was making of his life for Draco. “How is it that I hadn’t heard? How did you keep it secret? Surely the Prophet must have found out… they’re always on you like a Niffler on a sickle.”

Potter gave him a rueful smirk, the bitterness of his own life still in his eyes.

“Oh it was in the paper,” he said nonchalantly. “Buried on page sixteen between the obituaries and an article about Cauldron Bottom thickness and how it will revolutionize our International relations.”

“What?” Draco asked, taken aback. “How did you manage that?”

Potter’s rueful smirk turned into a grin and he chuckled softly at Draco. He seemed slowly to come back to himself but the bitterness and anger were still present. His muscles were tense and taught beneath his robes and the shadows in his eyes had not shifted to reveal the green again.

“The headline for that day was interesting enough that no one read anything else,” he answered quietly. Draco’s brows knitted over his eyes. “And I had a connection at the Prophet that did the rest.”

Draco studied him for a moment, his entire body reeling. He was so unprepared for this turn of events. He knew he should feel nothing but fear for his wife, but he couldn’t focus on the fear. He felt frightened for Potter because he was on the verge of giving up the one things that made him so uniquely Potter. He was frustrated by the fact that he cared at all about that and he was inexplicably excited by the idea that Potter was unmarried.

Why? Why should that matter? Why should you care? It’s not as though you could have him in any way. He’s Harry Potter. And you’re a bloody married Death Eater.

“What was the headline?” Draco asked, somewhat harshly. He was troubled by his own thoughts. He needed to find his focus again and bring everything back to the actual matter at hand. “What could possibly be interesting enough to distract the masses enough to miss the Golden Couple’s separation?” He had hoped the words would come out sharp and cold, but they didn’t. They lacked the gusto he once had for insulting Potter. The last time he had found himself unable to insult Potter properly was in his sixth year, when the mending of the Vanishing Cabinet was beginning to seem impossible.

Draco shut down the thought and forced it to the back of his mind.

“That was the morning after,” Potter began slowly, the grin still in place on his face but making him look wolfish. “You pulled off that spectacular defeat of the Magpies and effectively put an end to Lucian Fuller’s winning streak as Seeker.” Understanding dawned on Draco and his face fell.

He remembered that game. He had won against all odds. Lucian Fuller had successfully captured the Snitch in every game of the season for the Magpies. He set a record for winning streaks, having won twelve games in a row by a margin of at least fifty points every time. He was the favourite in the League and the Magpies were the favourite to with the Cup. No one had believed that Draco could beat the Unbeatable Seeker, but he had and he had done it by a margin of eighty points. He pulled the Catapults to victory and proved that he was, in fact, the best Seeker in the League, ruining the Magpies’ unblemished record.

That same week, Draco had tried out in hopes of playing for England in the World Cup. He had been rejected in favour of Fuller. England did not make it to the finals that year.

Potter carefully avoided mentioning Draco’s rejection as Seeker for England but it was unspoken on the air. The headlines from that week had varied from amazement to pride to riotous indignation. Nothing but Quidditch had been in the headlines and no one had spoken of anything else.

It would have been the perfect cover for Potter’s separation.

“I see,” he said because what else was there to say, really? He should have felt vindicated at the idea of stealing the headlines away from Harry Potter with his own success, but he did not. Draco only had to see the unnerving bitterness in Potter’s eyes to know that it was not worth it. “Who was your contact at the Prophet?”

Potter shrugged. Draco asked the question as a way of pushing forward. He was stuck, however, in those thoughts. His eyes raked over Potter’s body as his muscles slowly began to relax. He was still grasping one of the letters Draco had shown him, though it was loose in his fingers. The parchment was irreparably distorted.

“Dennis Creevey,” he said indifferently. “He started working at the Prophet in hopes of making a difference. He wanted to make it a more reliable paper. I don’t think he really managed, but the intention was there. He used to help me out when I was still the centre of attention. He would try to downplay gossip about me or withhold particularly personal pictures from the Prophet staff.” Potter paused and, with a nostalgic glance at the wall, shrugged. “I haven’t needed to ask him for a favour in a while.”

Draco couldn’t tell if Potter was disappointed about that fact or not. Draco got to his feet and walked over to his chair. He dropped himself into it and stared out at the hearth for a while. He suddenly felt cold, like he hadn’t since the Sectumsempra incident. He hated that internal chill.

He could feel Potter’s eyes following him. He saw the man shift out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if Potter had expected his confession to alter the atmosphere so drastically. He wondered if Potter felt guilty for drawing attention to himself and away from Aurora and the need to find her. He wondered if Potter resented Aurora and her having been captured because it meant that they would inevitably have to go back to talking about her.

Draco certainly did.

He grimaced at himself and leaned forward on his knees. Something glinted in the shadows and he turned his attention back to Potter. His eyes fell on the Auror’s hand where one gold and silver ring taunted him in the low light.

“Why do you wear it?” Draco asked coldly. He felt angry again and didn’t want to. He tried to get control of his voice but couldn’t quite manage. The thought of Potter still wearing the ring that symbolized his union to a cheating whore who broke his heart and made him bitter was something Draco couldn’t stand. Was Potter a masochist? I

This is Harry Potter… of course he is.

“What?” the man asked, his voice having shifted back to the usual timbre. The tension in him was almost gone now. Draco didn’t really want to bring it back but he was sure that would forever be his role. To cause tension in Harry Potter.

“The ring,” Draco shot, his tone as icy as he felt. Little bumps began to raise on his otherwise smooth skin. He ignored them. “Why do you still wear your wedding ring if you aren’t with her? If you refuse to forgive her?” If you don’t love her…

But Draco couldn’t know that Potter didn’t love the Weasley bint anymore. He couldn’t know and wouldn’t ever know.

Potter shifted, apparently surprised by the question. He lifted his hand to examine the ring, as though he was surprised he was wearing it and had only just noticed its existence. There was a silence, then –

“This?” he asked, rather redundantly. “This isn’t my wedding ring, Draco.” The use of his given name was somewhat striking, given the topic. Draco looked up with sharp eyes. Potter twisted it on his finger so that the crest was revealed. It was two wands crossed over a lick of fire. Around the edge were the tiny inscribed words that Draco did not have to see to read. Eradico Malum. “This is the crest of the Auror department. The ring is awarded to those who successfully complete the training.” Draco knew this. He stared at the ring with a mixture of longing and hatred. Potter paused and then fingered it. “I got used to having a ring…” he offered in way of explanation though Draco had not asked for one. “So I replaced my wedding ring with this.”

Draco said nothing but looked away. He did not want to think about that ring any more than he wanted to think about Potter’s wedding band. They both held strange reactions that Draco was not prepared to deal with.

“I suppose it’s fitting, anyway,” Potter went on, the bitterness creeping back into his voice. “The first ring married me to a woman that broke my heart. The second married me to a job that I now hate.” He laughed coldly. “I don’t have very good judgment when it comes to love, apparently.” Potter turned aside and then muttered something under his breath that Draco was sure Potter didn’t mean for him to hear. But he did.

“It must be, given what I’ve been feeling lately.”

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A/N: TWO chapters today. I said I would so I did. Next!

I should also point out that my Latin is probably wrong. At least in regards to the Auror ring thing. If you read/speak Latin, and it IS wrong, please forgive me.