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 29: The Forbidden And The Fantastic


Draco and Dula walked through the Burrow’s backyard, chatting as they went. The garden was under a few inches of snow, and leafless foliage peeked up through the snow everywhere. They spoke of small things at first, until Draco felt more at ease, and dared to venture into subjects that had once frightened him too much to mention. Dula seemed capable of hearing anything without turning judgmental, and Draco spoke his mind more freely than he ever had.

“Dula, I don’t want this to sound rude, but I don’t know how else to ask this.”

“Simply ask. The worst that will happen is I will tell you I cannot answer.”

“What’s it like…being with Charlie…you know…like you are?”

“I take it that you mean…what is it like, to be gay, at least for Charlie and myself?”

“Well…yeah. Why…why would anyone choose that? You could have been an heir…if you wanted to be one. What was so important about…about being…different, that it was worth giving that up?”

“Draco…people know who they desire. Even those who wish things were otherwise, they know in the silence of their hearts, the one who makes their pulse race, and makes their words come haltingly, who makes them feel most alive, by sight alone. It is not chosen. All that is chosen is whether to follow one’s heart, or not. It is a simple thing, to lie, and honesty opens you to hurt and loss, but if you endure, it also makes possible a contentment that cannot be built upon falsehood. My life with Charlie is no better or worse than the lives of people who prefer the opposite sex. We simply are, though I admit that I am happier with Charlie than I could have imagined four years ago. It is different with everyone, and has much to do with how much effort two people put into their relationship…the genders make no difference.”

Draco walked for awhile, scuffing his feet, mulling over Dula’s words. There were other things he wanted to ask, and more that he just wanted to say, but he didn’t quite dare to voice these things. There were ways to get at the subject without being too obvious, but Dula was clever…he’d have been a Slytherin for sure if he’d gone to Hogwarts. Draco didn’t hold out much hope that his intentions would remain unclear for long.

“If…if I told you something…like the things you told me…you’d keep it a secret, wouldn’t you?”

Dula nodded calmly.

“If you tell me something in confidence, I would not betray your trust. I have already given you knowledge of things I would have kept to myself. It would be unkind not to give you the same trust in return. Say what you will.”

Draco stopped walking, and started fidgeting, first with his mittens, then with the buttons of his coat. He couldn’t really bring himself to even look Dula in the face while he spoke.

“I like Harry.”

“That is plain to see. There is much there to like. He has troubles of his own, as all people do, but Harry is a most remarkable person, and well worth liking.”

“No…you don’t understand! I like Harry. A lot. The way…the way you said. About pulses and words and…everything. I think…I think Harry is who I like. What do I do?”

Draco felt his cheeks burning. He still couldn’t believe he’d gotten the words out. He took a few deep breaths while Dula was thinking, and waited impatiently for an answer.

“You do not have to do anything, but you are very brave for having said what you feel. There are many people much older and supposedly wiser who could not have said what you did. Harry is still a good person for you to like, and I commend your choice…although…I admit I am biased in favor of red-headed dragon tamers, but that is just me. Do what comes naturally. Enjoy his company, spend time with him, get to know him by speaking openly of the things you think and feel. I cannot read Harry’s mind, any more than I can read yours, but I can tell you that he would welcome your friendship, and he would not hurt you for feeling as you do.”

Draco felt his stomach knotting up, and grimaced, miserable over the problems that surrounded the very notion of trying to get closer to Harry.

“Other people…they had school friends and girlfriends and normal lives. Dula…I didn’t get those. I don’t know what to do. I had a war and…and things went badly…and I never had those things. I was in the service of a Dark Lord or running for my life when other people were figuring those things out. What if I do something wrong? What if I screw this up like I screwed up the rest of my life? I don’t know what ‘naturally’ is…I don’t even know how to fake it!”

“Relax. Breathe easy, Draco. Do not distress yourself. There are no guarantees, Draco. Either you will take the risks that everyone takes, or you will not. No one…no one knows what they are doing…until they have done it at least once. Someone who cares for you equally will understand that you are unique, and they will not be offended if you say or do things differently than others might. That is the way of things. Do not feel that you must push yourself to do what you are unready for. No one would expect that…certainly not Harry. Just take your time and let yourself become comfortable with him. I knew Charlie for half a year before we began seeing one another, and it was another half year before we did more than the most elementary of things together. You have much to deal with…more than is fair or just…and it would likely be better for you to deal with making yourself healthy, and then concern yourself with other things.”

Draco sat down on an old tree stump, sniffling in the chill.

“Yeah. I guess. It’s just…there was a long time where I couldn’t feel anything…except afraid…and now…now everything is hitting me at once. I’m still getting used to being able to feel at all, and then I start thinking about Harry that way…and I just want to run screaming from the room. It’s too much. I’m supposed to be helping Harry…”

Draco trailed off. He wasn’t sure what Dula and Charlie knew about Harry’s ‘activities’. Did they know that Harry was a killer? Did they approve or not? It was hard to imagine Dula supporting murder, but they did seem to be Harry’s close friends. Draco opted for caution.

“I’m supposed to be helping Harry and Molly with a few projects. I’ve had so much on my mind I’ve barely gotten anything done, and I hate feeling useless, especially since I haven’t even got a wand. Hey…Dula? You went to Durmstrang, so you’d know a lot of things that Hogwarts didn’t teach much about, wouldn’t you?”

Dula smiled wryly. “Yes. I suppose I would. They are very different schools, Hogwarts and Durmstrang. Both good in their way. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I ran into a word I don’t know, and I could hardly believe it, since I used to be fairly good in school. I just assumed it was something that Hogwarts would have covered in my seventh year, but I never got to go back. What’s a Horcrux?”

Dula, who possessed a naturally dark-complexion, suddenly blanched almost white as a sheet. He whirled on Draco and his eyes were wide and serious. His voice, and body language, shouted that he was no longer calm, confident and in control of himself.

“What!? Where did you hear of such a thing? Tell me!”

“I…I just over heard it somewhere. I didn’t know what it meant, but..”

“Draco! The thing you speak of is unutterably evil! That you even know the word puts you in danger! It is an enchantment of the blackest kind, rooted in death and destruction. You imperil yourself by even speaking of it aloud! I read of it in an old book, many years ago, and when I asked my father what the word meant, I was beaten for even speaking that word in our house! The book was taken from our library and destroyed, as well it should have been! Where did you hear of this terrible thing? Where!?”

In a frenzied outburst, all semblance of calm completely lost, Dula had grabbed Draco’s coat by the lapels and pulled him face to face. Draco panicked, scuttling backwards and shoving against Dula, and wound up stumbling backwards and falling in the snow.

“Let me go! I’m sorry! I don’t know anything else…I swear it! You’re scaring me!”

Dula paused breathing heavily, and realized what he’d done. He knelt on the ground in front of Draco, and not daring to reach for him, clasped his hands like he was begging.

“Draco…I am very sorry, I…I overreacted, but I am not speaking in jest! What you have spoken of is a dreadful secret, better left forgotten by all. If you are involved in something related to this, you are in peril of your life, and even your very soul! You must not speak of it aloud…and it is better if you forget that such a thing ever crossed another’s lips. I beg this of you, for your safety, and for the safety of wizards and witches everywhere. Bury that word, and never again dig it up. I did not mean to frighten you, but you must…you must understand how serious this matter is! Only grief will come of such a thing, and I would spare you such a fate. Do you understand, Draco?”

Draco nodded nervously, still frightened by the way Dula had responded so suddenly to a simple word. Dula stood, and offered Draco a hand up, a pained look of worry on his face. Draco took the offered hand warily, and let Dula help him right himself. They dusted the snow off of their clothes and walked back to the house. When they were near the door, Dula turned and faced Draco with a look of shame.

“I am very sorry, Draco. It is rare that I am frightened by anything, but today I was given good cause for fear, and I did not handle it well. Fear is the dragon of the heart, and I have not tamed that dragon yet. I did not mean to grab you, I only wished to convey that this was a grave matter. It was a foolish thing to have done, and I beg your forgiveness. I should like to count you as a friend to Charlie and myself, and you may Firecall or write to us if you wish, but I will understand if it is hard for you to forgive my mistake. I only feared for your safety, and the safety of this house, which holds many people who are dear to me.”

Draco was of two minds at the moment, and his heart was still racing from the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through him after his fateful comment had been made. Dula was nice, and seemed wise and good, but having just been frightened by him, Draco wasn’t eager to forgive much of anything.

“Apology accepted. I…I need to go to my room. Excuse me.”

Draco stepped inside and peeled away his coat, cap, mittens and scarf, and headed upstairs, ignoring the glances of the others as he fled for the newly familiar haven that was his room. Once the door was closed, Draco peeled off the heavy boots and sat on the bed, his head still whirling with the information he’d taken in. Some things fit, but they only raised more questions, and none of those questions were easily answered, especially the one that had frightened Dula so badly.

According to Molly, Harry had turned to killing after the War was over, sometime after killing the Dark Lord. He’d even been violent during his first months alongside the Aurors, and that had forced him to work alone. Harry had nightmares too, leftover from his losses, and actions, during and after the war. The snippet of conversation he’d overheard between Ron and Harry had implied that they had hunted for Horcruxes, at least five of them, and likely a few more from the sound of it. What Dula had said rang darkest of all, and suggested that Harry and Ron had been tampering with magic so black that a student from Durmstrang was terrified of the mere mention of it.

Draco remembered Harry’s edited description of Voldemort’s demise. Harry had said that there were parts he could never tell, parts that only a few people alive today could ever know. What were his exact words?

‘There are parts that I can't even tell, and the number of people who knew the whole truth could have been counted with one hand, and a couple of them are dead.’

Who would know the things that Harry had dared not speak of? Ron for certain. He’d been at Harry’s side through the entire war. Hermione had to have been another, and she’d been killed while Ron and Harry had been out searching for ‘the fifth Horcux’. Something more nagged at Draco’s memory. Harry had said it during the tale of Voldemort’s death.

‘There was a lot of fighting, but we had a special purpose. Let's just say that Voldemort had certain artifacts enchanted to provide him extra protection. We had to destroy those before he could even potentially be killed.’

If the artifacts were Horcruxes, that would explain why Harry never spoke of them, and said it was necessary to edit the story. He hoped that Harry hadn’t actually used that kind of black magic in the war, and that only Voldemort had, but there was no way to be sure without talking to someone who had been there at the time, and who knew the innermost secrets of Harry’s wartime activities.

Who was left that Harry would have trusted? Molly seemed to be in the dark about the entire subject, and she was as close to Harry as anyone other than Ron. Ron wasn’t likely to be a font of information…plus he wasn’t even allowed in the Burrow anymore. Who did Harry trust implicitly back then?

The answer struck like a lightning flash, and Draco knew what he would have to do, even if it involved a measure of risk, and a terrifying level of personal discomfort.

He would have to go to Hogwarts. Draco would have to face the only remaining fragment of the man whose death he’d helped to cause. Albus Dumbledore.

Harry would have trusted Albus Dumbledore more than anyone alive, and the former headmaster was surely now a painting that hung in the office that had once been his own. A painting in the office that held the only clues that Draco could easily access, and might very well be the only way he could move forward in his search to piece together what had happened to make Harry an angry and remorseless killer, haunted by nightmares that still plagued him.

It wouldn’t be easy, but Molly was supposed to go to Hogwarts later in the week to see Poppy Pomfrey. Draco needed to tag along, and if Molly understood why, she might very well let him accompany her, and use her influence to help him gain access to Dumbledore’s portrait. In the meantime, he could take a little of Dula’s advice, and just spend time with Harry, coaxing tidbits about the war out of him, or maybe asking what his nightmares were about, no matter how sensitive the subject was.

He wanted to pause and think of Harry more, but the topic left him nervous, even when he was alone. It was very discomforting, finding himself…’excited’…at the thought of touching Harry, or kissing him, and Dula had been right about Draco’s state of readiness. He was woefully unprepared for anything more complicated than talking to Harry…or holding his hand, but he wanted those things and more, just the same.

Draco let a mournful sigh slip out, and then headed back downstairs in his stocking feet. It would be a long week, waiting for his chance to see Dumbledore’s portrait, but at the moment, he had no other clues.

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

The evening passed quietly at the Burrow, with Dula serving both lunch and dinner before returning home by Floo. Arthur and Molly had spent the day chatting and planning various details for the Weasley family gathering come Yuletide, and Harry had been engrossed in research, only taking a break when Draco challenged him to a playful game of wizard’s chess. Draco was quite out of practice, and Harry won, but not without difficulty. Draco promised himself more time downstairs, and if more of it was spent across a table from Harry, who was very handsome when he had that stern, serious look on his face, then it was all for the better.

Late that evening, a final owl arrived, and a bundle of letters were attached to its leg. After feeding the bird, Molly looked flustered when she saw the handwriting on them clearly. They came from Ron.

There was a letter for Arthur, a letter for Molly, one for Harry, and one for Draco. Molly passed them around without comment, and the tension was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. Draco watched as the others read, then opened his own.

To Draco,

I owe you an apology. I guess I owe you a lot more than that too. I really hated you in school. I won’t say I didn’t have reasons, because I’d be lying if I did. What matters right now is that, as of last night, I’m forgetting everything I used to know about you, and starting over.

Harry swears you’re alright, and his word is gold in my book. Mum and Dad, Charlie and Dula, they all say you’re pretty decent, and I know they’re not stupid, or easy marks for a con. If they say you changed, then you changed, and that’s all there is to it.

I think I blamed you for things you weren’t any part of, except for a Mark on your arm. The war is over, and that Mark doesn’t mean a damn thing anymore.

You tried to help my mum, and I thought you’d hurt her, and there’s no way I can make up for what I did. All I can do is tell you that I know I was wrong, and hope you forgive me for disgracing my family last night.

I sat the bench today, watching the game. Cannons won, 170-10. It was damn close, and it was mostly our Seeker who made it a quick game. The fellow who played in my position today did brilliant, because the game stayed short, and he really put his all into it.

Anyhow, the long and the short of it is that, with a couple more wins, we’ll be in the race for Cup, so people will really be watching these next few games. Tickets are selling fast, but I already booked the Minister’s Skybox seats for you and Harry, for the home game in two weeks, if you still want to come.

I understand if you don’t want to, but you’d be welcome, and I’d love to see some friends at the game. Practice is only going to get harder, with a Cup race in the offing, so I wouldn’t be able to get much time at home anyway. The tickets are in Harry’s envelope, along with VIP Passes that will give the both of you access to the post-game dinner and celebration. Hope you make it.

I’m genuinely sorry I wronged you. It won’t happen again…you’ve got my word on that.

Sincerely, Ron Weasley

Draco looked up at the others in the room, Molly was wiping tears away from here eyes while she read hers, and Arthur was smiling and beaming, looking as proud as Draco had ever seen him. Harry was silent and folded his letter and tucked it away in his pocket, looking relieved and content. Who’d have imagined that the drunken brute that’d almost killed Draco, a single day ago, could have made such a turn around.

It turned out that, from what Draco could piece together from the others, Charlie had ‘dragged Ron through the coals' while Draco was unconscious, and Ron had been forced to face some things he hadn’t dealt with since the war. Apparently, Ron had given up drinking, found a hobby to occupy his time, made appointments to see a counselor through his team, and made up his mind about making some changes in his life, all because of his outburst the night before. It was mind-boggling, but Draco hoped that it was all true.

Harry held out the tickets and passes, smiling widely. Draco stared at them in shock. He hadn’t been to a live game of Quidditch since he’d been fourteen years old. The idea that Ron Weasley was the reason he’d see one again was staggering enough, but not as much as the sudden realization that he’d be going…to a game…with Harry. It would almost be like a date. In public…with Harry. He couldn’t honestly say if he was elated…or scared to death, but either way, he wasn’t going to miss a chance like this.

“How do you feel about seeing the Cannons?”

Draco grinned giddily and shrugged.

“Sounds like the best thing to happen to me yet, since coming here. You’ll take me?”

Harry nodded soberly, and his smile never wavered.

“It would be an honor.”

‘Dreams aside, I must be the luckiest bastard who ever lived. I’m gonna see a Quidditch game, in a box seat that even my dad only sat in once! Life might be a bitch, but she’s looking pretty good from where I’m standing.’

TBC!!!