Funerals and Weddings

For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.

Chapter the Thirty-five: The Conversation
The next day. (NOTE: This chapter picks up where Ch. 9 left off!)
5 January
No. 12 Grimmauld Place


[Remus looked at Harry. “I think we’d best put in a call to Dumbledore.” –Ch. 9]

“I agree, Harry,“ Hermione said seriously. “If the vision you just told us about is like the one you had about Ron’s dad being attacked by the snake…that means that Malfoy is a prisoner and being tortured by V-Voldemort. You should definitely tell Professor Dumbledore.”

“But what is Dumbledore supposed to do?” Ron wanted to know. “I mean, Malfoy isn’t one of our allies. Is the Order supposed to save him or something? Why? And we don’t even know where You-Know-Who is, anyways. With Harry’s other vision about my dad, the Order knew where he was.”

Remus, having exchanged a brief glance with Harry, replied, “That’s true, Ron, but we need to let Dumbledore know. All of Harry’s visions are important and Dumbledore, as head of the Order, will decide what we do about it, if anything.”

“And what if it is true, Ron? Shouldn’t we try to help Malfoy? I mean, are we supposed to just leave him there to die?” Harry asked Ron.

Remus spelled open the fireplace to firecall Dumbledore while Ron answered.

“Well—I don’t know. I mean, it’s Malfoy we’re talking about. The ferret. Why should we help him?” Ron struggled a bit to find an answer for Harry.

“Why? How about because he’s a human being?” Harry replied, a little hotly. “And if we are going on the assumption that my vision is real, then Malfoy isn’t a Death Eater. That’s why Voldemort--stop wincing!--was torturing him, because he wouldn’t join!”

Ron looked both confused and angry. “What about—”

Remus cut off his retort. “Harry! Come tell Dumbledore about your vision.”

Harry, who had been locked in an intense look with Ron, waited a second before dropping his gaze and going to the fireplace, where Dumbledore’s head was bobbing in the green flames. After greeting the headmaster, he quickly repeated everything he had just told the others.

By the time he had finished, all of the others had moved around the fireplace to hear what Dumbledore had to say. Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully at Harry for a moment, but before he said anything, he looked back over his shoulder (or where his shoulder would have been had the people at Grimmauld Place been able to see it).

“Just a moment,” Dumbledore said to the assembled group. His head disappeared for a moment, then popped right back into the flames.

“Excuse the interruption, but that was Severus bringing me good news. When Remus called and asked me if young Mr. Malfoy was safe at Hogwarts, I sent Severus to check. He had just informed me that Draco Malfoy is indeed safe, and here in his dormitory at Hogwarts.”

Harry made a conscious effort to control his reaction to the news that Draco was safe, but both Dumbledore and Remus noted that his tense expression relaxed considerably.

“So, it wasn’t a vision,” Harry said. “What do you think it was, sir? A dream? Because it felt just like all he other times I connected with Voldemort—it didn’t feel like a regular nightmare.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry steadily. “I’m not sure. It is an unusual development. I would like to discuss this further with you Harry. Could I impose upon you to give up the last afternoon of your holiday and return to Hogwarts today? I believe that Apparating to Hogsmeade shouldn’t be a problem for you now?” he finished, eyes twinkling.

Harry grinned back at him. “No, sir, it isn’t a problem. And I’ll be glad to come back to Hogwarts today. I just need a couple of hours to pack.”

“Good. ‘Snickers’ is the password,” was the headmaster’s reply. “I’ll see you soon.” Nodding to the others, the disembodied head vanished.

Standing up from his kneeling position, Harry looked at the others and smiled. “Anyone want to help me pack?”

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A little over three hours later, Harry emerged from the headmaster’s office more confused that ever. As he made his way to Gryffindor Tower to unpack, he made a decision: he needed to talk to Draco—privately.

Reaching his dormitory, Harry drafted and discarded two notes before he was finally satisfied with the wording:

DM-

We need to talk. Will you meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight at midnight?

-HP

Short, simple and to the point. Tying the note to Hedwig’s leg, Harry sent her off with the note and instructions to wait for a reply. He was worried about Draco’s response—what if, despite everything, Draco hated him?

He only had to wait about fifteen minutes before Hedwig returned. Stroking her head fondly, he untied the message. Continuing to stroke Hedwig’s soft feathers for reassurance, he unrolled the parchment:

HP-

You surprised me; I didn’t know you were back. I agree, we should talk. I will see you at midnight.

-DM


Harry sighed in relief. “Well, Hedwig, he doesn’t sound angry. Did he seem angry?” Hedwig blinked at him, then nudged at his hand with her head. Harry took the hint and resumed petting her. “That’s good. Now I just have to be patient until midnight! I guess I could unpack. Nah…I’ll do that after dinner. Until then, I think I’ll take a nap; I have a feeling this is going to be a long conversation.”

Giving Hedwig a last pat, he sent her off to the Owlery to visit with her friends. Harry climbed into bed and hoped his “talk” with Draco didn’t go too badly.

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Even though he had taken forever to decide on what to wear (finally settling on a snug blue T-shirt with ‘RU429?’ written on the front, faded jeans and, of course, his snake necklace), Harry arrived early at the Room of Requirement; he was very nervous about the upcoming conversation. After walking past the door three times while concentrating on a good place to talk, he entered the room and was pleased to find a fireplace with two wingchairs and a sofa set in front of it.

Then he couldn’t decide where to sit. Should he sit in a wing chair and give Draco space? Or should he sit on the sofa and leave the decision up to Draco as to whether he joined Harry on the couch or sat in a chair? Pacing a moment, he finally chastised himself for being neurotic and sat at one end of the sofa. Then he decided he needed something to do with his hands, so he closed his eyes briefly and smiled when two bottles of Butterbeer and a tray of biscuits appeared on the low table in front of the sofa.

Harry had just opened the Butterbeer when the door swung in and Draco entered. He paused for a moment on the threshold before shutting and locking the door behind him. After a glance at the seating arrangement (Harry wondered if Draco was obsessing over where to sit as well), he sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Potter,” he said, with a nod.

“Malfoy,” Harry returned, “Want a drink?”

Draco nodded and took the offered Butterbeer. “Cheers.”

There was silence for a moment before Harry cleared his throat and said, “So, erm, Malfoy, there are some things…I thought maybe you and I should talk about. I…” He took a swallow of his drink and decided to get the worst of it over with. “I…I killed your father.” He said it all in a rush.

Draco looked at him a moment before nodding. “Yes, I know. Snape told me.”

Harry waited for the blond to do something. Draco just looked at him. Confused, Harry asked, ”Well…aren’t you pissed off at me? Aren’t you going to try to kill me or at least hex me or something?”

A slight smile lifted the corners of Draco’s lips. “No. In fact, I should thank you. So…thank you, Po—Harry. Thank you for ridding my life of that bastard.”

Harry blinked, bemused. Malfoy had just thanked him for killing Lucius and had called him by his given name. “You—you’re thanking me? For killing your father? So…they were right…”

“Call him Lucius, please. I don’t consider the man you killed to be my father,” Draco returned, then looked curious. “Who was right? About what?”

Harry snapped his gaze back to Draco. Might as well get the next bad part over and done with. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad either. He looked earnestly at Draco.

“Mal—Draco,” he started. “I’ve got something to tell you that you might not like. But I’d like to ask you to just listen—to hear me out—before you get angry or anything. All right?”

Draco tilted his head. “All right.”

Harry flicked his lip with his barbell before taking a deep breath and saying, “OK. I did something…really stupid, back on the first day of school. I…followed you up to Dumbledore’s office after the Feast. And I…sort of heard everything you told him.”

As Draco’s eyes narrowed, Harry hurried to continue. “But I didn’t remember any of it until I fought with Lucius, so all term I didn’t know anything of what you said to Dumbledore.”

Now Draco was looking confused. “What? How could you not remember? Did you fall down the steps leaving the office and hit your head?”

Harry laughed nervously. “Um, well, no. You see, Dumbledore caught me there…after you’d left. And he, well, he did some spell. A modified Memory Charm. He said that if your dream came true, I would remember everything I had heard. If it didn’t…well, I’d never remember anything.”

“So after you killed Lucius…you remembered. You knew. You know—everything?” Ever the Slytherin, Draco wanted Harry to confirm exactly what he knew before Draco gave anything away.

Harry nodded. “Yes—your dream about me killing Lucius—it happened exactly like you saw it. And I know…I know you’re on our side now, Draco. And…and I’m glad. But…are you angry with me?”

To Harry’s surprise, Draco smiled. “Angry with you? No. Why would I be?”

“Because of what I did—spying on you that way. I shouldn’t have,” Harry said, looking rather guilty.

Draco smirked. “Yes, well…to be honest, I think it was rather Slytherin of you, Harry. But seeing as how it wasn’t anything I wanted to hide from you…no, I’m not angry.”

Harry smiled in relief. “Good. Because I really am glad that you’re on our side now, Draco. I mean that.”

“Me too. And I’m glad you know now. I can’t tell you how hard it was for me not to tell you last term and to act like I was still…well, planning to join the Death Eaters. I still have to pretend, but it’s nice to know that there is one more person who knows the truth. But I don’t understand—why did Dumbledore modify your memory? I mean, certainly you’re trustworthy!” Draco seemed puzzled.

“No, it wasn’t that. He was worried that if I knew about your dream, that I might try to do whatever possible to avoid making it happen. He knows…he knows I don’t like the thought of killing people…and he was worried that if I messed up your vision, it would mess up the—er, other things.” Harry finished, catching himself before he revealed the prophecy about himself and Voldemort.

Draco looked a little upset. “Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t think…are you ok? About…Lucius?”

Harry smiled at him. “Yeah, I am. Really. He was trying to kill me, so…besides—I didn’t know it would happen. And I should be thanking you. You taught me the spell that saved me. Now I know why you did! You’d seen it in your dream!” Harry laughed as he made the connection.

“Yes, I had. And I’m glad it worked like it did in my dream—and not like it did in practise.”

“Yeah, that was weird. But I’m not complaining!” Harry laughed. “Otherwise, I’d be toast!”

Harry stopped laughing when he saw Draco’s expression—he suddenly looked stricken. “What’s wrong?”

Draco’s heart had clutched when Harry had joked about being killed. He shook his head. “Nothing, I’m just glad…glad it worked. Glad it’s Lucius who died and not you. But what were you saying earlier—about if you didn’t follow through on my vision, it would mess up something else?”

Harry sighed. Of course his slip hadn’t gotten by the sharp Slytherin. “Well, I guess it doesn’t hurt to tell you, seeing as you’re on our side. But don’t tell anyone else. There’s a prophecy—the one your fath—sorry, Lucius, was trying to steal last summer from the Department of Mysteries for Voldemort. The prophecy says that I’m the one who has to kill Voldemort—either that, or he has to kill me. We both can’t live.”

“Shit, Harry! That’s…that’s…shit. It doesn’t seem fair, putting all that on you. I mean, you’re not even of age and you’re supposed to kill one of the most powerful wizards ever?” Draco’s face was paler than usual.

Harry smiled wryly. “Yeah, don’t remind me. But hey, I guess I am of age now, sort of. I got legally emancipated yesterday.”

“Really? Why?” Draco wanted to know.

“Well, when my aunt died, I lost my legal guardian. And since I’ll be seventeen in July…Dumbledore thought it would be pointless for me to have a new guardian appointed for such a short amount of time. So now I’m…an adult, I guess,” Harry smiled.

Draco grinned at him. “So you can do magic outside of Hogwarts, and Apparate, and everything? That’s good. Really good.”

Harry smiled and took a biscuit, offering one to Draco. “Well, this has gone a lot better than I thought. I’m glad. I came here half expecting you to try to kill me.”

“Why?” Draco asked. “Because of Lucius?”

“Well, yeah. I mean…well, until recently, when you talked about Lucius, you always seemed so…” Harry trailed off, not sure how to say it.

“Worshipful?” Draco said dryly. “Well, I was. Things changed.”

“Can I ask…I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to…” Harry looked at Draco apologetically and started playing nervously with his barbell again.

Draco’s stomach tightened with lust at the sight of Harry’s pierced tongue and he looked away for a moment. When he looked back at Harry he said, “Can I tell you later? It’s not that I don’t want to tell you…it’s just…”

“Hard?” Harry asked, sympathetically.

Draco smiled a little. “Yeah. You understand?”

“Yeah, I understand. Trust me, I do. No worries. If you ever want to talk about, let me know,” Harry said, smiling at Draco. “Besides, it makes something else I saw make more sense to me.”

Draco arched a brow. “What’s that?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Well, I sort of spied on you…again. Er…yesterday. At Lucius’ funeral.”

Draco gaped at Harry, eyes wide and mouth hanging slack for just a moment before the Malfoy training kicked in and he shut it. “It was you! I thought I saw you—in the woods! I thought I was going crazy, seeing things. I couldn’t imagine why’d you’d be at Lucius’ funeral.”

“I don’t really know why I was there. But yeah, you did see me. I saw you look right at me for a moment. I was hoping you hadn’t really seen me, just movement or something. But I guess you did see me. I’m glad you didn’t come charging in after me. I’d have died of a coronary!”

Draco laughed. “Can’t have that! You’ve got to blast the Dark Lord out of existence first! But seriously, you don’t know why you went? And wait, what did you say you saw that made more sense now?”

“Oh, that. Well…I saw you…spit on Lucius’ grave. If you didn’t get on with him…well, it makes more sense now than it did at the time,” Harry replied. “And why I went? Something…my gut was just telling me I should go. And my gut’s usually right so…I went,” Harry shrugged a shoulder.

“Ah, yes. Well, I’d been waiting to do that—spit on Lucius’ grave—for some time now. I must say I enjoyed it,” Draco smirked, but the look in his eyes was bitter.

Suddenly something occurred to Harry. “Oh! I nearly forgot. Do you know why I’m here today—early, I mean? Did Dumbledore tell you?”

Draco shook his head. “No, tell me what?”

“Well—he told me today that you’d had more than just the one dream about Lucius and I. You had one…about yourself, as Voldemort’s prisoner?” Harry asked.

Draco grimaced. “Yeah, that’s a fun one. I also “witnessed” everything that happened Hallowe’en night. And had previews of it for a week before it happened. Some nights I really hate going to sleep.”

‘But other nights I don’t,’ Draco added silently to himself, wondering if he dared bring up that dream with Harry yet.

“Yeah, Dumbledore told me. I’m…sorry. That must have been horrible. I’ve had some of my own dreams—visions—because of my scar, you see? Dumbledore thinks that I’m connected to Voldemort through it. So sometimes I…see what he is doing. Or feel what he is feeling.”

Draco looked horrified. “Ugh! How do you stand it?”

“Not well. That’s why Snape was trying to teach me Occlumency last year—you know, ‘Remedial Potions’ class?” Harry said dryly.

“Oh! So that’s what you were doing. I always wondered—Snape doesn’t usually give private lessons, so I thought it was odd, but I just figured Dumbledore was making him do it or something,” Draco replied.

“Well, he was. Just it was Occlumency, not Potions. It didn’t work, though. But I’ve been practising on my own and I’m a little better. I need to master it, because I’m sick of the dreams and visions. Like the one I had this morning—which is why I’m here,” Harry looked at Draco seriously. “Apparently, I had the same dream you did—or a version of it.”

Draco looked stunned. “What, of me being the Dark Lord’s prisoner? And him using the Cruciatus on me?”

“Yes. But in my dream, or whatever it is, I’m Voldemort—that’s how my visions usually are, I see things from his perspective, like I’m inside him. It’s…creepy. Anyway, I’m him and you are brought in and he forces you to kiss his robes. Then he Crucio’s you when you refuse to join him. All you ever say is ‘No,’ until you finally black out and he sends you back to ‘your room.’ But the weirder part is—and this has never happened before—when he starts cursing you, all the sudden I’m you! I mean, it’s like I’m inside you and not Voldemort anymore. So I’m being Crucio’ed—not an experience I enjoy—until you black out, then I’m back as Voldemort again. Then I woke up.”

“Fuck,” Draco just looked at Harry. “It’s exactly the same. I mean, except for I was always me.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. So when I woke up, we were concerned that it was real—most of my other visions have been what Voldemort was doing at that moment, not what would happen later on—so we firecalled Dumbledore. I was…was really relieved that you were safe, here at Hogwarts.” Harry finished, a slight blush creeping up to stain his cheeks.

Draco smiled. “Were you? Why?”

Harry blushed more and once again played with his tongue piercing. “I, er, um, I mean, I didn’t want you being tortured or captured, especially since I knew you are on our side. That’s…all.”

Draco was disappointed, but not surprised. “Oh, well, that’s good to know. Thanks.”

“Hey Draco…” Harry looked at Draco consideringly.

Did he seem…like he was maybe hoping Harry had answered differently? The necklace was suddenly a tangible weight around Harry’s neck. Should he ask? Dare he? Harry blushed a little just thinking about it. No…he couldn’t. He and Draco were having such a good conversation—what if he were wrong and he ruined it? What if Draco’s straight and hates gay people? What if—

“Yes, Harry?” Draco was waiting for Harry to go on. Luckily, Harry had a brainstorm just in time.

Watching Draco closely for his reaction, Harry said, “Draco, you remember the last Quidditch match? When I got hit in the head by that Bludger?”

Draco narrowed his eyes a little. He wasn’t sure where Harry was going with this. “Yes, so?”

“I was wondering, did you happen to…come by and visit me? In the hospital wing that night?”

Because he was watching so carefully, Harry saw the flash of panic that was gone just as soon as it appeared in Draco’s silver eyes. When Draco’s cheeks flushed just the slightest bit, Harry knew he was right.

Draco licked his lips before replying, “Visit you? In the hospital wing? The night after you were hit? Why…why do you ask? Wouldn’t you remember if I had?”

“Well, not if I was dosed up with Sleeping and Pain Potions and mostly asleep when you visited. That is…if you visited?” Harry let the question hang in the air as he lifted his brow.

Draco stalled for time. He wanted to be sure Harry wasn’t angry or turned off by what he had done. “Suppose I did visit you. Is, um, something wrong with that?” He hated that he sounded defensive.

Seeing Draco’s nerves lessened Harry’s own and made him a little bolder. “No, no, not at all. In fact, if you did visit me, I just wanted to say thanks. I…enjoyed it.”

“Did you?” Draco arched a brow. “And just what is it that you enjoyed about my alleged visit?”

Harry’s eyes met Draco’s for a moment. What he saw there mirrored what he knew Draco could see in his own eyes: Wanting. Hope. A tinge of lust. And a little uncertainty. Keeping his eyes locked on Draco’s, Harry leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose.

“This…” he whispered, and he brushed his lips softly over Draco’s.

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A/N: Bwhahhaha! Evil cliffy! Sorry, I couldn’t resist! Seriously, I’m sorry if some of you are a little confused. All I can suggest is pay close attention to the DATES at the beginning of each chapter and hopefully that will help. Also, a few people told me that chapter 34 is a repeat. Smile…I know it is, albeit modified, and I thought I had made it clear in my author’s note at the beginning of the chapter but I guess not! Sorry! As always—reviews are very much appreciated!!!

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