Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Thanks to Claudia and Emma, for making this better!


Chapter Thirty-Three

The Ministry Atrium was a scene of complete and utter pandemonium. It resembled some sort of refugee camp, like the ones Harry remembered seeing on the news on TV when he had lived at the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon had delighted in showing Harry such pictures and had always made sure to point out that Harry was so lucky compared to those people.

Harry thought that Vernon had been right, he was lucky compared to them.

But here and now Harry just wanted to go home to Grimmauld Place.

People looked like they had had an awful time. They were battered and bruised and dirty. A number of them were wearing bandages or were smothered in healing potions, some were staring ahead as if seeing nothing and some were crying. At least the Dementors hadn’t got anyone though, not a single person had been Kissed.

Harry felt really, really old. For most of these people what had happened today was the worst thing that they had ever lived through.

Harry felt rather envious of them. He wanted to be as horrified as they were, as appalled by what had happened as they seemed to be. As far as Harry was concerned it had been quite a good day. After all nobody’d died.

But people were hugging each other; many of them complete strangers as far as he could see. Family members were holding each other close as if they would never let go, and everywhere that Harry went, people stopped talking and watched him pass as if he were some sort of hero. They would whisper to each other and point at him. It was really freaking him out.

For some reason one of the Aurors had taken Harry’s wand. It had to be weighed they told him. They had taken everyone else’s wand too so he didn’t feel all that bad about it, at least he wasn’t being singled out. Harry hated being singled out. He just wanted to be normal, that was all he had ever wanted. But it was finally dawning on Harry that he was never going to be considered normal by anyone.

Even though he had sequestered himself off in this corner, he was still being stared at.

He tried not to catch anyone’s eye. Severus and Eileen were currently engaged in a loud argument with the Minister for Magic. Well Eileen was arguing anyway and the Minister was nodding and backing away. When they had arrived here from the graveyard Scrimgeour had again tried to have Severus arrested. He had insinuated that Severus had had something to do with the Dementor attack. That was when Neville’s gran had hit Scrimgeour with her umbrella.

She had apparently been friends with Eileen for years. They had been fellow team members in the Gobstones club at Hogwarts, so Severus had told him anyway; and she was currently proving to be a formidable friend indeed. They were doing such a good job that Harry felt he didn’t have to say a word this time

Severus had not noticed that Mrs Longbottom had been amongst the first group of people that he had rescued at the cemetery. She was currently extolling his bravery to anyone who would listen and Severus looked as uncomfortable as Harry would feel with all that attention. They had shared a brief look of sympathy, Harry and his uncle, before Harry had scuttled over to this corner to get some peace.

There were plenty of other people who could talk about what had happened today. Harry didn’t have to do it. Hermione and Ron were speaking to Kingsley. From the way they were waving their arms about he thought that they were probably describing their initial encounter with the Dementors.

Harry saw a strange looking figure moving purposely towards him through the throngs of people. “Oh no,” he thought to himself, “not another loony.” But he didn’t move because there was something strangely familiar about the figure who was working his way over.

It was only when the figure got closer that Harry realised that it was Draco.

Harry was seated on a well-polished wooden bench. He shuffled over and let his boyfriend sit down beside him. Draco looked absolutely dreadful and Harry almost hadn’t recognised him for a moment. His robes were torn and covered in grass stains. And he was wearing a very peculiar orange and green bobble hat. It looked like it had been made by someone who was not only colour-blind but who had no use of their fingers.

Even if one included the various dreadful items that Harry had seen Dobby wearing over the years it was easily the most hideous hat that he had ever seen. Harry was sure that Draco hadn’t had it on when they arrived. He didn’t think it was the sort of thing that Draco would wear under any circumstances, it was absolutely disgusting.

“Draco,” Harry said, “why are you wearing that hat? It’s not some weird Slytherin thing is it?”

The look that Draco gave him was a bizarre combination of the infinitely sad and the suitably scathing.

“I am wearing it because somebody spat on me, Harry,” he said rather sadly.

Harry looked at him in astonishment.

“They did what?” he growled.

Draco shrugged, “I’m pretty distinctive you know. I look just like my dad, and Mum has stayed right beside Andromeda so those that hate us can’t bother her at the moment; not near the grieving couple. So it looks like I’m the target for today. Hermione gave me this; she said it would disguise me. She has a whole load of hats and scarves. She keeps them shrunk, really small, in one of her pockets.”

“Oh!” said Harry, “I thought that she had got over that. Maybe she kept them for sentimental reasons or something?”

Draco looked puzzled. “What are you on about?”

But Harry dismissed the question. “Are you all right Draco?” he asked, tenderly. “Do you want to show me who spat at you and Ron and I will go and rearrange their features?”

Draco gave a short bitter laugh. “Way to overcome prejudice, Potter!” he said scathingly, "that’ll make them like me won’t it?” He looked really wounded for a moment and Harry wondered just how isolated Draco felt now. He must miss his friends Harry thought. But Draco continued to speak, albeit somewhat less bitterly, “nah, I think I’ll stick with the hat. If that is alright with you?”

Harry looked at him sadly, “you did really well back at the graveyard Draco, you helped save a lot of people and you don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Draco shrugged, “I guess I’m going to have to get used to it aren’t I?”

Then he looked back at Harry from the corner of his eyes, it was as if he couldn’t quite face him. “I’m sorry Harry,” he said quietly, “for being such a twit yesterday and for ignoring you all those other days.”

Harry reached over and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and turned him gently so that he was looking directly into his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

Draco let out a strange snort of laughter

“What have you got to be sorry about?”

“That I didn’t go after you. That I moped about like some daft git when I should have just come and found you and done this.”

Harry reached over and whipped the hideous hat off Draco’s head exposing the white blond hair for everyone to see. Draco flinched for a moment. But it was only a moment because before he even had time to draw breath, let alone formulate a comment Harry was kissing him.

Up until now Draco had been the one doing the leading in their relationship. Harry just hadn’t felt confident enough to take charge, unless of course he was in his animagus form. But the blond boy looked so battered today, so lost and beaten down that it had brought out Harry’s protective Gryffindor side.

When the Dementors had come, Draco had been the first person that Harry had gone looking for. He had quickly lost Arthur in the crowd but he was not really worried about Arthur, he knew that he could take care of himself. Dementors didn’t bother Harry too much these days, not after…not after the time with Sirius in his third year. His only problem today had been choosing which happy memory to use to conjure his Patronus.

That more than anything had shown Harry how his life had changed. There had been a time when there had been so few happy memories to choose from.

But now?

Now there was a plethora of memories and Harry felt truly blessed. Being hugged by his uncle, finding his gran. All the little things that they did for him, all the tender loving little things. And Draco. Draco kissing him, Draco making love to him.

He had shivered a little at the sheer deliciousness of that particular memory.

Harry had had a bit of a paradigm shift in the graveyard.

He had realised that he was truly fond of his uncle. That he loved his gran and that his life was so much richer than it had been the last time that he had had to face Dementors. But more than that, more than any of that, Harry had Draco now.

When Harry had found his lover, Draco had been cowering behind a fallen gravestone.

After the Dementors had attacked they had headed straight for Andromeda and Ted and because they were standing beside them at the time, Draco and Narcissa. The couple were broadcasting very strong emotion Harry suspected. How could they not be considering it was their daughter’s funeral? Unfortunately they were just the sort of emotions on which Dementors thrive and of course made them perfect targets for the soul sucking monsters to focus on. But Draco had tried to lead them away.

When Harry had found him he had been surrounded and Harry had enjoyed seeing his patronus stag charging the dreadful creatures down. He had already caught sight of a couple of his friends in the mist and they had been casting Patronuses too. It had been a fairly simple task to organise everyone and have them cast their spells in a systematic way, gathering up people as they moved through the mist.

At first Draco had seemed terrified, but he had rallied and tried to cast a Patronus like the others. Severus had apparently taught him the spell, when they had been on the run together but he had never been successful. However standing in that graveyard in the midst of all the panic and confusion with a smile on his lips from the kisses that Harry had rained on him when he had found him, Draco had finally managed the spell.

He had looked so bewildered when the ferret had erupted from the end of his wand that Harry had had to laugh, and then he had kissed Draco again and all at once he had just known that things were going to be all right.

After that it had all seemed so easy. The members of Dumbledore’s Army had quickly gathered momentum and before they knew it the mist was disappearing and they had won.

Harry had felt elated and full of energy and for the first time in ages he felt truly happy. Harry’s world was far from perfect. He still had a dark lord out to kill him and he was not planning on going anywhere near Mrs Weasley at anytime soon. But he had people who cared about him, who were proud of him. Everyone he cared about was safe, for now at least and so he was perfectly content to sit here, in the middle of all the chaos, snogging his boyfriend for all he was worth.

He was barely aware of the gasps coming from the various knots of people that could not seem to be avoided, even though they were hidden in one corner of the Ministry atrium. It was Draco that pulled away, Draco that pointed out that people might not want to see their saviour kissing the child of Death Eaters, the boy known to have betrayed the Light and helped to kill Dumbledore.

Harry looked around in confusion when Draco said that, and finally noticed some of the glares being directed at them.

Harry glared back.

“You know what Draco?” he said somewhat belligerently. More than loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to hear him. “I don’t give a fuck, what they think. You are my boyfriend and I love you and if they don’t like that, it is not my problem. Now stop worrying and be quiet, I want to kiss you!”

And so he did.



Severus heard the murmur of surprise that ran through the Atrium and turned to see what had caused it. He couldn’t help the smile that escaped him when he caught sight of Harry and Draco. The boys had obviously made up.

He marvelled at the resilience of teenagers. This morning he had been really worried about Harry, but somehow during the funeral and the Dementor attack Harry seemed to have recovered his natural exuberance. He was bubbling over with the sort of energy that Severus had not seen him display for a very long time.

When they had Apparated back to the Ministry Harry had rushed over to his gran, picked her up, twirled her around and then dropped a kiss on her forehead before placing her gently back on the ground.

Eileen had been astonished.

“I have happy memories, Gran!” he’d told her joyfully before turning to his Uncle and exclaiming again, “Happy memories Severus!” They had travelled back together he and Harry, Severus had felt strangely reluctant to let him go on his own again, he wanted to be near him.

“You are a happy memory, Gran and so is Severus!! And Draco! I have so many that I didn’t know which one to choose. Because I didn’t used to. It took me ages to find one in third year! I nearly didn’t learn to cast a Patronus at all because I didn’t have a happy enough memory,” Harry was babbling.

Severus had never seen Harry like this. He had noticed him laugh and joke with his friends before, but never, not since he had first become aware of a black haired, green-eyed little first year in the Great Hall on Sorting Night had he seen Harry so full of life and bubbling with happiness. And never in all that time, had he been so forcefully reminded of Lily.

Lily had been exuberant like this, Lily had bubbled over with life and enthusiasm too.

In the last few days Harry had seemed more and more downtrodden and lost and Severus had been despairing for him. But now? It was as if something incredible had happened to Harry sometime in the last few hours. Something that they were not privy to, surely it could not be as simple a thing as a few happy memories?

Then Severus had thought about what Harry had said and he felt like someone had landed a blow to his solar plexus. Harry had learned to cast a Patronus in his third year, when he had been only thirteen years old. He had managed a feat of magic that should not be possible for any thirteen-year-old, but if what he was telling them now was true and Severus saw no reason that it should not be, then he had nearly failed, not because his magic was not strong enough but because Harry had had no happy memories from his childhood to draw upon, none at all!

Severus’ childhood had been a truly difficult one. But with a little thought he could come up with dozens of happy memories. He and his mother going on a picnic, day trips to the sea-side, a bicycle on his seventh birthday with a red frame and a shiny silver bell.

For the first time Severus truly had an inkling of what Harry’s life had been like. He had known for a while that Harry had never been the spoiled prince of Severus’ imaginings, but his life had been so much worse than Severus had ever realised.

Strange, that such a stupid phrase could make him understand how awful his nephew’s life had been before Hogwarts. And in many ways had continued to be pretty dreadful until now, he supposed. Nothing else that he had seen in the last few weeks, not the bruises, the insecurities, or the shyness had brought it home to him, not like this at least. Not where he could feel it in his bones.

As he stood watching his nephew whisper to Draco and kiss his boyfriend again, gently on the nose, ignoring the world around them and sharing a moment of tenderness, an intimacy that seemed to make Harry glow, Severus made a silent vow.

“I promise you Harry, that whatever happens in the weeks and months ahead,” he whispered to himself, “I promise to ensure that you have lots of happy memories to treasure in the years to come.”