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 33: Everything And Nothing


Draco plucked a couple of books from the pile that was currently being researched and headed back to his room. A little reading might take his mind off of the impending session with Harry, which would only be made more tense by the secret knowledge that he now held. It explained so much, and as sappy as it may have been, his heart simply leapt when he thought that Harry might be in danger. The urge to help was overwhelming, and Draco cursed his own fickle emotions for betraying him and leaving him so vulnerable to a single person.

Maybe it was alright…being gay. Maybe other people with normal lives could live that way with grace and dignity. Like Dula…and Charlie, but not Draco. The notions that crossed his mind when he reluctantly masturbated were both attractive and repellant. He liked Harry…a lot, and that was frightening. Sometimes…just lately…when he thought of Harry, he thought of the reality of sex. There were considerations that came into play, when he thought such things, that were uncomfortable in the extreme.

He’d catch his mind flicking over things like being kissed, passionately, for the first time, by someone he genuinely desired. Harry. He imagined it being a forceful and determined kiss, full of unspoken sentiment and carefully restrained desire. Harry wouldn’t push him…or hurt him, would he? He imagined a wonderfully lean and strong body pressed flush against him, this time far closer and warmer than it had been while separated by mere blankets. What would it be like to touch Harry…there? Hold a stiffened length in his hand, and feel no pressure to service it quickly or roughly? Or…or…Merlin forgive him…feel Harry alive and pulsing inside of Draco’s own body, not plundering and painful, but marked by a desire to please Draco for the first time.

At moments like that, images of the only reality he had ever known came back to him. MacNair, huge and leering, pounding into him so violently that his hips and buttocks had bruised from the force of it. Being flung to the floor of his stinking cell, his body on fire with pain within and without, trickling his own blood and MacNair’s seed. Laying on his side, vomiting up his last meager meal, because he was sickened by what he’d just been forced to endure, and because it simply hurt too much to sit upright, or even walk. Was that what sex was? It was terrible to imagine Harry treating him that way. It seemed silly at moments, but doubt had its claws in his heart, and Draco feared that lust drove men insane. After all, he knew for a fact that Harry had a dark and violent side, however well hidden it was lately.

His uncle had pleased him quite deliberately, only to ensure that when MacNair took him, it would be all the more horrifying, but Rodolphus LeStrange had been clinical, if skillful, and there had been no real passion between them. He knew that, had he been sober and given a choice, he never would have surrendered himself, even if he’d known it would be pleasurable that one incredible time. It had to be better…with someone who actually cared about you…didn’t it?

Draco didn’t have the answers to these questions, but he did dare to ask them, and that was more than he could have borne a few weeks ago. Wanting Harry as more than a friend was fraught with peril, and he could avoid it for now, as Dula had suggested…but not forever. He wanted Harry, more lately than ever, and he couldn’t avoid this endlessly. Someday, he would have to choose.

Draco pored through the tome in front of him, laying across his bed in an ungainly sprawl, flipping pages idly while he waited for Harry to return.

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Harry strolled through Diagon Alley, possessed of the confidence that comes with knowing that even the denizens of Knockturn Alley gave him a wide berth. It was a far cry from his second year, when he’d accidentally Flooed into the wrong shop, and ran afoul of the unsavory characters that populated that notorious place. Now people moved aside when they saw the tall, dark-haired man with the scar walking their way. For a boy who had been bullied and frightened throughout his childhood, it was a heady feeling, knowing that people dared not cross or challenge him.

He purchased yarn for Molly, as well as potion ingredients that were needed before the new moon came, and would eventually become the potion that kept Molly’s menopausal symptoms in check. He needed a few fresh quills and ink for himself, as well as a few things for Draco.

He hadn’t been able to get Draco off of his mind lately. It wasn’t really vexing to him…he rather liked thinking of Draco’s impudent smirk and lively gray eyes, especially when he thought of the game of Seeker’s Tag they’d played. It had been downright intoxicating to see Draco so happy and alive, and the sight of his reddened cheeks and cheery smile after their game had been the stuff of dreams. Now he walked down Diagon Alley and saw nothing but things that Draco would someday need.

Would Draco be offended by being purchased things? Possibly, but Harry’s fingers itched to open his pouch and buy a few things, just to show that he cared. Why should Draco do without, when there were things he clearly needed, and Harry wouldn’t be burdened by getting them? It was bloody annoying, dancing around these questions, when he just wanted to give Draco the help he deserved. He wanted to give Draco everything…everything he deserved.

Deserved.

That was it! Draco deserved some nice things. He’d adjusted Harry’s Gringott’s forms. Saved Harry over fifty Galleons a month in vault fees, consolidated his holdings, and filed his paperwork properly, on time, and without goblin assistance for the first time since had Harry had become an adult. He deserved compensation! If it were a form of pay, for honest work done well, Draco couldn’t say no!

Harry made inquiries in some shops, only gathering ideas for later purchases, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Ollivander’s down the street. Draco needed a wand. His uncle LeStrange had snapped Draco’s wand in front of him, just to remind Draco of his own helplessness. Harry could give him back the one power that marked Draco as a true wizard. Sure, Draco could travel by Floo or make a Firecall, send owls or ride a broom, but a wand was what marked a person as an independent wizard, and this could give Draco his freedom…when he was ready to take it.

It was an unnerving thought, and certain doubts crawled through Harry’s mind as he approached the shop’s window.

‘I trust him, don’t I? He really has changed, and there’s so much he’d be able to do with a wand. But…but…what if he left? He wouldn’t really need me…or Molly…anymore. He hates needing help…he feels guilty about being unable to do things himself. It would make him so happy, but he might leave…and…and…fuck all! I’d miss him. I think I’d more than miss him. It…it wouldn’t be right to hold him back, though. I can’t keep him trapped just because I bloody perv all over him every time I’m in the shower! Maybe…maybe if he starts thinking about leaving…I could ask him to stay. Molly would let him…I know she would. Sod it. I’m going in!’

Harry set up an account on his own recognizance. Whatever the cost of making a wand to suit Draco’s specifications, the cost would be covered…all he had to do was bring Draco here. Ollivander’s would take down his spec’s and make a wand that was ideal for Draco. It was pricey, but hey…if he thought of what it would have cost him to keep renting multiple vaults from Gringott’s for a couple years, then this was fairly cheap by comparison. Why should the goblins have all that money when Draco could really use a wand?

Harry drifted through the market, picking up small odds and ends, as well as a few items for his own amusement, until he reached Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes Inc. He took the front entrance, thankful that his long friendship with the twins, and his legitimate involvement in their business, covered his reasons for visiting…just in case.

As always, he was politely led to their slightly cramped back offices, where George was cursing his way through a pile of paperwork. George looked up cheerily as Harry walked in, relieved to have anything to concentrate on that wasn’t fiscal or quarterly in nature. The magical eye he wore spun twice with relief while George sat back and sighed.

“Good to see you, Harry. Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure today. You look like I did yesterday. I hate bloody Gringott’s. Half-tempts me to store all my gold in the house.”

“That doesn’t work so good for you or us, Harry. We’d wind up with no room for mum to let in guests. Small price to pay for never wondering where the next meal’s coming from, eh?”

“I suppose. You two have it worse than me. Who’d have thought having a bit of money would be such a right pain in the arse? Finally got mine done last night…on time for once.”

“You? Hell, Harry, that’s a personal best for you. Usually a day late and a Sickle short, you are.”

“Not this time…I had Draco helping me. Hell, he practically did it all himself…I just answered questions and signed forms where he told me to. Dead easy, it was.”

George gave Harry a look of incredulity, while his enchanted eye did a series of back flips.

“Go on! Pull the other one, mate! Draco Malfoy did your Gringott’s forms? Now I know you’re taking the piss. Are you sure he didn’t set you up for a fraud charge?”

Harry snorted with amused derision. An idea was germinating in his skull, and it was getting larger and more serious as he went.

“I’m not lying! ’Struth, mate. He’s a bloody genius at it. Took all kinds of summer courses for estate management years ago, and they stuck. There isn’t a form the goblins can make that he can’t decipher and finish in less time than it takes us open them. I’m deadly serious. You ever thought about having someone else do yours?”

“Only every time I have to do them! Just, me an’ Fred, we always wanted to keep the work in the family and all. Never felt right, just letting someone else do it all. We built this place from the ground up, thanks to you and that pouch of Galleons. The rest was all our blood, sweat and tears. Doesn’t mean we haven’t given it a thought, though.”

Harry had a feeling the hook was in, now all he had to do was land the fish. Fred and George hated paperwork as much as Harry did, and Draco needed to feel like he could provide for himself. There were possibilities here that would allow Draco to still be a part of the family that Harry loved, and maybe even still live in the Burrow. It was an opportunity that couldn’t be ignored.

“Well, your mum is no one’s fool, and she trusts Draco completely. I’ll vouch for him personally, if you two promise to lay off the pranks and forget about his past. Try having him do this stuff for once, and if you’re content with it, keep him on. What’s the harm? Least that can happen is you don’t like the finished work, or him, and you send him home, but I’m telling you he’s a bloody prodigy at this stuff. Saved me enough in fees and penalties to make it worth it ten times over. Give him a decent wage and don’t ride him about school or the war, and I swear you’ll be amazed. What do you say?”

George listened to Harry’s spiel about Draco with amused interest, then gave Harry a piercing glance…made more so by the way his eye flew forward to within an inch or two of Harry’s face, examining him with intense scrutiny before zipping back to George's face.

“You’re serious…hire Draco to do wizarding accountancy. Bloody unbelievable. We could do it. Just a trial basis, and Fred’ll wanna visit home an’ see mum before we commit to anything, but I think he’d give it a try. We wanted to come by for supper since we heard mum got sick. She Firecalled and said she was fine, but y’ know how it is…just good to see her. We’ve been working too much anyway. Maybe a little help will get us home more often.”

“That’s the spirit, mate…just-”

Harry was interrupted by the hasty arrival of the secretary, bearing a sealed envelope for George, who took one look at it and peeled away the ribbon and wax seal, eager to see the contents. A second later, he glanced back to Harry.

“It’s Morrigan…he’s been sighted in a Welsh fishing shack on the coast. Got the coordinates right here. You want to move on this tonight?”

Harry remained still, but his hand itched for his knife, and he wanted to see those coordinates. He’d made promises...but he’d made promises to himself, too. Morrigan wasn’t Inner Circle, but he was violent…and dangerous. He couldn’t be left running loose.

’I could take him. Some quiet little town, no big wizarding presence. Easy in, easy out. Just gut him and go. All done…one more down. I could do it. After they all got to sleep, I could be back in an hour…maybe less if I move quick. It wouldn’t be like last time. No one would have to know.

It was sooo damnably tempting, but Harry fought that temptation with all he had. If Draco woke from a nightmare, and Harry wasn’t there, it would all come tumbling down. He’d made a promise…to Molly, and then to Draco. Promises were things to be kept. Like debts to be paid. If Draco left, maybe then he could go back to dealing with these scum on his own…but he could wait. Nightmares be damned…he could wait if he had to.

“No.”

George looked at him like Harry had just grown a second head.

“No? You’re letting one skate? Busy tonight?”

“No…and no letting him skate, either. Use a secure channel to slip those coordinates to Nymphadora Tonks. She’s the last person left in the Auror business that I still trust to do the job right. She’ll have a squad down there before dawn if you get this to her marked as urgent. Let them handle this one.”

“Damn, Harry. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re getting soft with age. Not like you to let someone else take one out. Still, if you say so, consider it done. It’s your lead, mate. We just help with the finding. Tell you what, when you get home, tell Draco we’ll give him a fair shot at a job, and tell mum we’ll be by in a couple days, alright?”

Harry sighed with relief. His palm still itched for the comfort of his blade, but the decision was made. He just hoped he’d made the right one. He bade George farewell, and headed back to Diagon Alley to finish his errands.

He was only a few steps past the entrance when a brusque, yet thoroughly annoying, voice accosted him.

“Hold it right there, Potter. Lurking around Diagon Alley? Mysterious trips into different shops on who knows what kind of errands? Let’s see what you’re carrying!”

Harry turned slowly, already feeling his anger beginning to push to the surface, and he recognized the junior Auror immediately.

“Dawlish? Who the hell do you even think you are? It’s called shopping…this is where wizards do that kind of thing. So unless the need for quills and ink is suspicious these days…I’d suggest you FUCK THE HELL OFF!”

Dawlish spooked a little when Harry raised his voice, but the little weasel was undaunted.

“We’re on to your capers, Potter. We know what you’ve been up to! Dead bodies popping up with the Mark on their arm…all over England…and now we hear you’ve got that Malfoy punk living with you. Sounds fishy enough for me! You’d be smart to just turn yourself in now, and save yourself a whole lot of trouble!”

Harry’s eyes bulged dangerously.

“Capers? Capers? Who the fuck even says ’capers’ anymore, Dawlish? Were you trained by bad Muggle movies? Fucking hell! You are one pathetic collection of walking clichés! Get the fuck out of my sight before I hit you so hard your ancestors will cry!”

Dawlish moved for his wand, but Harry’s head-butt came faster, crashing into the bridge of Dawlish’s nose and sending him to the ground in a sprawl. He fumbled for his undrawn wand, only to realize that Harry was already twirling it in his left hand.

“Fetch! Fucker!”

Harry pitched the wand down the street, well past Dawlish’s reach. When the man scrambled to crawl after it, Harry’s booted foot crashed into his backside and sent him tumbling forward into a pile of trash at the corner.

“Next time, tell them to send a real Auror! If you piss me off twice, you’ll think this was your fucking birthday! Prat!”

Harry stormed off, leaving Dawlish fuming and bleeding in the alley. He’d had a difficult enough day, worried over too many things as it was, without having Kingsley’s incompetent jerk-offs pestering him. If the Minister wanted to talk, he could bloody well use an owl.

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It was obvious that Harry was tense when he returned, and Draco picked up on it as soon as Harry entered the room. The brusque and business-like way he opened the jar of salve. The huff of irritation when he sat on the edge of the bed. All together, it was playing havoc with Draco’s nerves. Harry was radiating anger…like before…and while it wasn’t directed at Draco, he could feel it, hot and ambient, making his skin crawl and his stomach clench with fear. He knew he had to do something.

Draco rolled off the bed and put his book away, fumbling with the stopper for the Calming Draught while he tried to think of something to say.

“Molly’s check-up was good. So was mine. Pomfrey says I need exercise…to gain back the muscle mass I lost this last year. I was thinking…maybe you could help me. You exercise a lot. We could do that…together…if you don’t mind?”

Harry sighed, and he seemed to be trying hard to stifle his general irritation.

“Yeah. That’s a pretty good idea. I like it. We could start tomorrow, if you like?”

“Sure. You seem really tense, Harry. You sure you wouldn’t like a swig of this stuff? Tastes only so-so, but it works.”

Harry sighed again, then leaned forward and rubbed his temples, trying shake off some obvious stress.

Draco took a wild gamble. Something hungry and crazy and desperate took him over for just a second, and he risked everything on a single gesture.

He started rubbing Harry’s shoulders. Harry was motionless from shock at first, barely able to believe that Draco’s hands were gently, if somewhat amateurishly, working the taut muscles on either side of his neck.

“Shut up. I know you want to say something, but just shut up and let me do this. You look like you need it. Let me.”

Harry was obviously stifling words, and a few groans, but he kept still and quiet, except for gasps, or grunts when Draco pushed on sore muscles. After working on Harry for a few minutes, feeling his own breath catch in his throat when he remembered that he was touching Harry (and those muscles felt magnificent in his hands), Draco started to chat, hoping Harry was more comfortable.

“I met with McGonagall today. She let me see Dumbledore’s portrait. I think I needed to face him, but it went better than I could have hoped.”

Harry’s muscles stiffened again at the mere mention of Dumbledore, but his reply was still calm and reasonable.

“Sore subject. You made your peace with him? He never was one to hold a grudge.”

“He said a lot of things. He even asked for my forgiveness…’cause he knew what I was up to, and he knew you were onto it, and he still didn’t stop me when there was still time. If he’d pulled me in sooner, he’d have taken me out of the war before I screwed myself out of a life or a future. I thought he was crazy…to apologize to me after all that, but he did. If he can forgive what I did so easy…I could certainly forgive him. Look what I got!”

Draco pulled the feather from the desk and held it out for Harry. He stood silent and grinning…waiting for a reaction.

“Bloody hell! Fawkes. This is one of Fawkes’ tail feathers. He gave you this?”

Draco nodded giddily, and returned to working on the knots in Harry's shoulders.

“Well that’s it then. You’ll have to take this with you to Diagon Alley. I visited Ollivander’s today. I set up an account for you…whatever it takes to make a wand to your specifications. You finished my Gringott’s paperwork, and saved me a small fortune in fees. I owe you. So you’re going shopping with me tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can get you some fresh supplies…you know, clothes and such…and a wand. If Fawkes gave you a feather, you’ve more than earned it.”

Harry said it all matter of factly, though he sounded very impressed by Fawkes’ gift. Draco had stopped rubbing his shoulders, and Harry turned to see what was wrong. Draco looked like he was frozen in shock.

“What? You need a wand. You deserve one…and you’ve earned it. Fawkes even gave you a feather. If that doesn’t say ‘You should have a wand’, then I don’t know what does.”

“Harry. Wands…wands are worth way more than you saved on fees and taxes. I can’t take any more from any of you. I know you have it to give, but I can do without until I work something else out. You don’t-”

Harry cut Draco off abruptly.

“Maybe I don’t…but I want to! If you’re worried about paying me back, here’s something else I stumbled into today. The twins…Fred and George…heard how much you did for me yesterday. They want to trial hire you to help them the same way. They’ve got so much business that it’ll be steady work. You could do anything you want with that money. If the only way you’ll take the wand is to pay me back later, then fine! We’ll do it that way…but let me do this for you, just for now…please?”

Draco started to tremble. It was faint at first, then more pronounced. He was still silent and red-faced when the shuddering started to become so obvious that Harry became worried. What Harry couldn’t know was that Draco was suffering from conflicting impulses. At that moment, he desperately wanted to grab hold of Harry…hug him, and even kiss him! A very significant part of his psyche was completely unready for anything that direct, and holding himself still was ripping him apart from the inside.

“Are…are you okay? Draco?”

Draco bolted for the bathroom. Harry followed a second later, calling to Draco through the door.

“I’m sorry. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. We can forget the wand. It’s okay…just…you’re okay, aren’t you?”

A few minutes passed while Draco splashed cold water on his face and regained his equilibrium. He’d been close to hyperventilating, or a complete breakdown, and he was trying hard to keep the reins on his emotions these days. Not that Harry made it easy when he did things like this, the big sap!

Draco opened the door, having brought himself back to a rational state.

“Sorry about that. I…uh…I’m still tense. I should take that Calming Draught after all. Can we talk about…the other things…a little later?”

Harry was still half giddy with relief that there was nothing serious wrong, and he was amenable to almost anything. He really hadn’t imagined that Draco would get so worked up over a wand…and he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

“Yeah…sure. No worries, right? We can talk when you’re ready…not before. As long as you’re okay. Let’s just get you that potion, and get some work done. Your choice…pick a spot to be healed and I’ll get to it, okay?”

Draco nodded agreement and headed for the potion, gulping a double shot to soothe his jangled nerves enough for what was coming. He knew full well he couldn’t handle his upper legs and inner thighs being touched by Harry right now, so he reluctantly peeled off his shirt and laid back on the bed. He still didn’t like turning his back on people…the leftover effect of having been tormented and violated too many times from that position…so Harry could work on his chest today.

The potion wasn’t enough by half. He suspected that Molly had cut the strength just lately, in a good-intentioned effort to wean Draco back to independence from potions. He wished she hadn’t done it, now that Harry was gently rubbing salve across a scar along his ribs. It felt heavenly, but he couldn’t bear to close his eyes and let himself be touched for more than a few seconds, so he had no choice but to watch, torn between desire and revulsion.

Harry’s hand was beautiful. Tanned and strong, clean and yet rough from calluses. There was no meanness in the way he touched Draco, and it was obvious that he was being as gentle as he could, and oddly, that made it worse. Draco clenched the corners of the bed, and he was aware of Harry’s grimace. Harry obviously hated distressing his patient, and that hurt Draco too. Being handled by others, however gently, still evoked a reaction that was instilled in him by almost a year’s worth of utter misery, and he just couldn’t seem to change it…not even for Harry. He wanted to touch Harry back, or apologize for being such a wreck, or something! He wound up settling for letting Harry work as long as he could, then clenching his eyes shut and asking Harry to stop.

Harry put away the jar of salve quietly, unsure of what he could possibly say, while Draco took a series of deep breaths and grabbed his shirt, feeling safer as soon he was clothed again. Harry was on the edge of leaving when Draco finally spoke.

“Thank you. We could…work something out…for the wand. Something fair. But thank you. I’m sorry this is so difficult. I wish it wasn’t. I wish you didn’t have to look at anything this…this fucking ugly.”

Harry paused and turned back, filling the doorframe.

“You’re welcome. Can I ask a favor of you? Just a small one?”

There was something weird and strained in Harry’s tone, and Draco was immediately put on edge by it. He nodded acceptance quietly, unsure if it was safe to disagree with Harry at the moment. He felt the faintest hint of anger in Harry’s tone and stance, and that feeling of standing near fire was just barely present.

“Don’t…don’t ever…call yourself ugly…in my presence…again. There is nothing ugly about you. Nothing!”

Harry waited just long enough to hear Draco’s stammered agreement, then turned and headed downstairs, leaving Draco thoroughly torn…between anguish and elation.

TBC!!!