Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 17—part 8

August 31 –the endless conversation –continued

I’m not going to lie. I don’t think I blinked for at least five minutes. It wasn’t pleasant on my eyes but somehow I just couldn’t manage to. I stared wide-eyed at Potter and wondered if this was all some kind of cruel and heartless joke.

If it was, it was certainly NOT funny.

“What was that?” I asked very quickly. There was a look in my eyes… perhaps of hunger or rapt interest…or madness. I don’t know.

“I broke up with Ginny,” he repeated, casting his eyes away from my look. “Not just now, but after Dumbledore’s funeral, you know…”

“No, yes I caught that part,” I reiterated in a rather confusing manner. “It’s what followed that that I seem to have missed.”

He looked towards the foot of the bed and seemed determined to carefully survey the way the hangings draped around the bedpost. Yes Potter, you are so very convincing.

“I don’t know if I hate you…anymore, or…” he trailed off. His brows knit together and a very faint blush crept up onto his cheeks. “I mean…it’s not really fair of me to hate you, after all that, is it?”

I snorted. I did. I just snorted and rolled my eyes, leaning back against the headboard. Did he just say that? Did he really TELL ME that? That it’s not FAIR of him to hate me??

“What wasn’t FAIR was for you to pass judgment on me before having all the facts, or any of them really,” I hissed. “But hating me, Potter, is a different story altogether. Don’t pretend that it’s somehow become one of your “saintly duties” to care about me and protect me. The saviour routine grows boring.”

“God, Malfoy,” he snapped suddenly, shaking his head and wringing his fingers. “I don’t know what it is you want!”

“Wrong,” I answered sharply. “you know EXACTLY what it is I want. The question you haven’t yet addressed is what it is YOU want, Potter. You’re answers as of yet haven’t been so forthcoming and frankly it’s beginning to piss me off.”

He groaned and glared at me and shut up for a moment, clearly frustrated with me. I don’t blame him. I was frustrated as well.

“It’s so much harder than you think,” he whispered darkly. “I don’t know what it is I want. I haven’t had time to think about it! I have so many things on my plate, Malfoy; I don’t have time to weigh out my relationships versus the possibility anything else because, for one thing, I know I’m not gay and that just throws everything off kilter here.”

I blinked once or twice.

…gay?

What the hell?

“Gay? What the hell are you on about, Potter??” I gave him a look and he gave me one right back. There was some kind of glitch in the communication there… don’t know where it came from.

“G-..” he stared at me like he was wondering if I was real or not. “Gay…you know… homosexual?....Err… a man who likes men?...is attracted to men?”

His face turned a lovely shade of red as he tried in vain to explain the whole concept to me. Must be a muggle thing. I’ve no idea but it made him uncomfortable and I laughed.

“I’m not ‘gay’, Potter,” I snickered, mildly amused at his insecurity. “I’m not attracted to men. I’m just attracted to you.”

Now, I know this should have been obvious by now to the both of us, but I still had the sudden desperate urge to clasp my hand to my mouth and deny that I’d ever said anything like that. I think what got me was that I openly ADMITTED being attracted to Potter… TO POTTER.

He didn’t say anything for a while and just watched me carefully whilst I determinately ignored him and played with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. I couldn’t look at him and I think he knew that. I think he was hoping that I would get over my sudden embarrassment and look into his eyes but I wasn’t going to do that. Not again.

“I don’t know how you can say that,” he sighed sadly. “You know next to nothing about me…who I really am.”

……. I hadn’t been expecting that.

In all honesty, I was expecting him to tell me something to the effect of “you are sick”, or “now I do hate you” or anything with similar malicious intent and meaning. I was NOT expecting him to be rational in any kind of way, shape or form. That is NOT a Potter thing to do and THAT I DO know.

“Maybe that’s what interests me,” I mumbled with absolutely nothing better to say. He may have a point but honestly, when has attraction or love or any of those things ever worked rationally? “And what did you know of Cho Chang before you started seeing her?”

“And that ended badly,” he concluded as though to prove a non-existent point.

He got to his feet and stretched gently. I…. I felt ashamed…and I felt angry and… hurt. I watched him move the chair back to where it was initially in the room before walking back to the bed. I didn’t… I didn’t really want him to leave…

I had… it has been so long since someone has talked to me like that…since I’ve been around anyone and able to talk… and he…

“You should get up and get something to eat,” he finally suggested to me, sliding his hand into his pocket. “Oh and you can have this back.”

He pulled out my wand and handed it to me. I looked up, confused and amazed, before taking it tentatively from him. Our fingers brushed and he didn’t let got at first. I was about to pull back and let him keep it but he dropped his hand and turned to walk away.

Then he was gone and I was left to sit in my confusion with my wand and the growing sense of nausea in my stomach.

********

September 5

I’ve spent the last few days keeping to myself for the most part. I do go and get my own food, mind you, because I simply cannot deal with Kreacher and his deranged ways. But I still stay mostly in my room.

I have managed to clean myself up a bit… now that I have my wand back. I trimmed my hair so that it wasn’t so unkempt and I fixed the shirt that I had used as a tourniquet before. The sleeve was nicely reattached but there still remains the problem of the bloodstains. For some reason, no matter how many cleaning spells I use, it just won’t go away. The problem is that I don’t have any other clothes.

Somehow, Potter might have cued in on that and he left me a small pile of clothes that I could wear. Or at least, clothes that he THOUGHT I could wear.

The trousers were all about an inch too short and most of the shirts were two sizes two big… at least in the width. I grimaced a bit at everything he’d given me, considering that they were also very muggle clothing, but resigned myself to the fact that I had no choice.

So I spent some time hashing out spells and arrangements of magic to make the clothes fit better. I finally managed to come up with a spell that would lengthen the trousers enough so that they were wearable, but the shirts presented more of a problem. I was able to shrink the shirts…but I think I maybe have gone a little too far on a few of them.

They aren’t too big anymore, but rather… tightly fitting.

But I kept them anyway. It wasn’t like I had much choice about any of it...

I went down to lunch one day wearing a fixed pair of black slacks and a green shirt (this was one of the…er…tighter ones) and found Potter sitting alone in the kitchen, reading the Prophet again.

He…

Well I could me imagining it and all but… he…

He was staring. At me. In his clothes.

Well, what used to be his clothes.

I don’t think the shrinking was such a mistake anymore.

******

September 6

I don’t even know where to begin explaining what happened today…. It was such a blur and so full of mixed feelings that I don’t know if it’s possible for me to feel simply angry, or happy anymore. It’s always confused and angry and worried. All at once. Or happy and uncomfortable and unsure. As though these things cannot stand on their own.

I don’t know what I should feel right now…and so I think my body has settled on ‘numb’.

This morning, as I was sitting and reading a very interesting book about forbidden forms of medieval magic, Potter burst into my room –the mudblood and Weasel in tow –looking rather desperate. His two friends, however, did not look so desperate but as though they had just swallowed some rather sour milk. Weasel’s face was worse than Granger.

“Well good morning to you too,” I mumbled, watching them from over the top of my book. Potter stood right in front of me.

“Malfoy, we need your help,” he stated. I smiled.

“Fancy that,” I said before turning my attention back to the book. The smile was gone.

“This is serious,” he added quietly. “This is about the Horcruxes.”

That DID catch my attention but more because of the absurdity than the understanding.

“What?” I asked, finally looking up at him. “What do you think I could possibly help with for those? I don’t even know what they are.”

“See, Harry?” the Weasel’s voice interjected. “Even he admits he can’t help! Just give it a rest, we’ll look elsewhere.”

“Shut it, Ron,” Potter snapped, much to my surprise. “I told you he CAN help us. We’ll just have to explain to him a bit first.”

I could not believe my ears. Potter had just defended me (in some way) to his best friend. He…he’d just picked me over Weasel!

Well, it looked that way to me at the time and I’d prefer to maintain that wonderful little illusion.

“Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?” the mudblood asked quietly, obviously trying not to be overheard. Sadly, this was terribly stupid as we were the only people in the room and she was standing no more than two feet away from me.

“Yes, Hermione,” he answered confidently. “I know what I’m doing.”

I had to fight the urge to smile and kept my eyes carefully trained on the page of my book until I felt I was ready to look back up at them.

“Well, if you want me to help you, you have to do something for me first,” I explained calmly, weighing out my options. Weasel snorted.

“See?? He’s already making demands!” Potter glared at him.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” he asked me, watching me closely. I closed the book.

“I want you to tell me everything you know about what has happened to my parents,” I stated calmly. Potter’s eyes did not leave mine for a moment or two. In that moment I could see the discomfort I was causing by asking that of him but I needed to know. “How would you have felt all these years if you knew nothing of what happened to your parents and every time you asked someone they just shut up and said nothing??”

He looked away for a moment and then nodded to me.

We do have some things in common… it seems.

“Your mother was murdered,” he answered very quietly, looking back into my eyes. I knew this much already but I appreciated his gentleness nonetheless.

“I know this, what I want to know is how and by whom.” Granger and Weasel gave each other uncomfortable looks but Potter did not look away from me.

“She was murdered with the killing curse,” he admitted softly. “And we suspect that it was Bellatrix Lestrange acting on Voldemort’s orders.”

I swallowed hard. I knew this all… I did, deep down, but hearing it was a different story. Having annihilated the possibility that I was wrong and that it wasn’t her own sister that murdered her for a psychotic half-blood made it seem so much worse. I looked away briefly, having the sudden urge to vomit. I tried to calm my stomach and looked back up into Potter’s eyes.

“Where did they find her?” My throat felt dry and raspy. My voice broke I think… but I can’t be sure.

“In muggle London… just outside of King’s Cross station,” Potter said, his voice hardly more than a whisper at this point.

I didn’t understand. When would she have been near there? …why would she have gone there while I was gone? And why would they have picked that place of all places to leave her? Or kill her… I…

“When did this happen?” I asked abruptly, the confusion and hurt written all over my face. Potter finally glanced away before retrieving his resolve to look me in the eyes.

“They found her around September 4th,” he began quietly. “Of last year.”

It was like someone hit me over the head. I sat suddenly back against the chair and stared at him with my mouth hanging open.

How was that possible? That would mean that… she was killed just after I left on the train to Hogwarts but… but I got… messages from her… throughout the year… I got…

“But…but I got letters…and…” I muttered, searching the floor as though it would provide me with an explanation. I couldn’t breathe.

“We suspect that Bellatrix was impersonating her…” he explained quietly. “Someone who looked like your mother showed up at Azkaban several times, anyway, to try and visit your father…now that the Dementors are gone.”

My eyes stopped on Potter’s feet. I didn’t want to look away…I couldn’t. He was grounding me somehow…forcing me to remember that I had expected things like that… I knew this would happen and that I can do something to help make them pay for it….

But that didn’t make it less hard.

“Why didn’t I hear about this? Why…why wasn’t it in the Prophet??” I kept my gaze on his feet as they shifted with his discomfort.

“The Ministry kept it quiet for a while…with Dumbledore’s strong advice,” he said all the words as though it hurt him just as much as it hurt me to hear them. “That’s what Remus told us… he said Dumbledore wanted to protect you. He thought you might do something terrible if you knew the truth… something he could not save you from…”

I leaned over onto my knees and held my face in my hands. I couldn’t take it all in… I still can’t! What would you do if you suddenly found out that everything you had been living was an elaborate lie and that the man whose death you are responsible for was trying to keep you safe and protect you until the very last moment??

I felt so sick and so dirty… but I shook my head and tried to readjust myself.

“So…is my father still in Azkaban, then?” I asked, my voice wavering on the air. There was a long silence.

“No…” Potter finally said. I looked up in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? Then to answer my unasked question… “He is also dead…”

I let out some kind sound that was halfway between a sigh and a choked laugh…with a hint of some kind of scream. I can’t find the words right now, but… I started laughing and sobbing soundlessly. Both at once. No tears, no noise, just heaving and the chaotic mess of emotion that wouldn’t untangle themselves.

“W-…what happened?” I choked, trying to suppress the intense need I had to scream and thrash and break everything in sight. I almost regret not doing it… maybe Potter would have held me down… maybe I could have let myself collapse into his arms and know what it felt like to be safe for once… “Who killed him??”

“Er…Draco…” Potter whispered quietly to me. He looked as though he was fighting the urge to touch me… or hold me or shake me. I don’t know, but he was fighting something. “You’ve heard a lot…maybe this can wait…”

“WHO killed him, Potter??” I asked more forcefully, refusing to let this wait any longer.

Potter bit his lip hard and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath and I vaguely realized that Weasel and the mudblood were showing much more concern on their faces than I’m sure they intended.

“That’s just it,” he finally said, opening his eyes again. “He wasn’t murdered…”

My head snapped up and I grimaced deeply, clenching my jaw and swallowing hard again.

“Then what happened??”

Potter did not look away but his eyes were full of a sadness I’d never seen in him before.

“He killed himself.”

------IIIIIII------

A/N: *GASP* DO YOU BELIEVE IT? Hehehehe we’ll just have to wait and seeeeeeee. Ok so I know this chapter kind of jumps around a bit and Draco doesn’t seem to have any rational train of thought, but he does and there are reasons for the placements of the conversations and what happens and whatnot, though you probably know that :)

Anywhoooooooo I hope you enjoyed it! I hope I’m not killing you with the cliffies, but this one isn’t terrible.. is it? Ah it’s just such a convenient place to cut it off! X_X

Some replies: Harry doesn’t know that the dream was about him, but he will find out eventually… and he will also find out about the ferret thing as well, which will not be a happy thing for him, but that will come later.

And I think that whole long conversation was very important to both of them… Harry finally got to see some of what Draco really is… know things about him and realize that he was wrong (at least for some things) and Draco was hit with the heavy realization that no matter how much he wants it, being with Harry could never be just as easy and simple as it is in his dreams… it’s still Harry Potter after all. :)

Ah I love you all! Thanks so much for the reviews and support and you are all wonderful! *freshly baked cookiessssss* Ooh I should actually bake some…that sounds delectable ^_^