After the war was over

PART FOUR - RETURNING WHAT WAS MISSING



Harry was sleeping again; he slept a lot now.

Draco could see him getting weaker every day. His skin was cold and clammy and his glorious green eyes had lost their sparkle. For a long time Draco would sneak him food, but lately Harry couldn’t seem to keep anything down. He had been sick again earlier and nothing but a little watery bile had been the result.

Harry had sobbed with the pain of the almost dry retching and Draco had stoked his hair and sshhed his tears. Draco knew that Harry’s body was shutting down, if someone didn’t come soon, if someone didn’t help them soon. Harry. His Harry was going to die. And what would Draco do then?

Draco was not worried about his own safety because Harry had already guaranteed that. He told Draco that if he were going to die then he would send Draco to safety.

“ No one will harm you again Draco, not here.” Harry had said and Draco believed him. Harry had supported Draco through every tear, every bad dream. He had removed the rings that Voldemort had had him pierced with and taken the collar. “If you chose to have this done again then that’s up to you, but you are NOT his pet and I won’t let him have you!” Harry had growled and Draco and been thrilled, delighted and a bit upset all at once.

Thrilled because he loved it when Harry took care of him and told him what to do. Delighted because he loved being loved by Harry and a little upset because he had quite liked the rings – or at least some of them and he was quite fond of the collar - though he did agree with Harry about what they represented. So he hid them away and secretly made plans to take Harry with him to chose some more when they were free. Because that was one of the things they talked about, being free and together.

They lay for hours, hugging each other and making plans for their future. Wonderful, wild plans. Plans of travel and big houses, and food and no pain. They were both orphans so had no one to disapprove of their relationship. They would both be adult in the wizarding world soon and nobody could stop them being a couple if that is what they wanted. They would make a home and be together for always, that’s what they had decided.

But increasingly Draco suspected that this dream would never happen because Harry was dying. Finally his body could not take much more of the torture that had been inflicted on him and he was slowly giving up. They came more often too now; the Death Eaters and Harry just let himself be dragged along. He just didn’t have the strength to fight them anymore.

When he looked back to that time Draco didn’t know how Harry had managed to stay alive as long as he did. The thought of the violence, the pain, the bruises and the broken bones he could not bear to think of those things being done to Harry, who had still been just a child. But such things were done; every day and Harry was fading fast.

On their last day together Harry had slept fitfully for much of the morning. He had not slept the night before, waking screaming from nightmares and wracked with pain. Draco had not known about the nightmares until their last days together. One night, haunted by his own fears and unable to sleep himself, he had watched Harry toss and turn and open his lips in a horrified silent scream. Torn from his dreams by images that only he could see. Harry had lain trembling and panting. His eyes finally finding the terrified ones of Draco in the semi darkness, he had used a silencing charm. He always when he slept, by habit, he had not deliberately kept his nightmares from Draco, he had just always hidden them, he’d said.

So now Draco had taken to watching over Harry as he slept and soothing him when the bad dreams came and Draco began to understand that he truly was as important to Harry as Harry was to him. And when Harry woke from his nightmares and could not get back to sleep Draco told him stories. He had hundreds of them all told to him as a child by his mother. Tales of dragons and knights, princes and princesses, telling the stories somehow made him feel close to Narcissa too, and made him realise that his mother still loved him, wherever she was now.

On the last day, Draco had been retelling Harry’s favourite story when the Death Eaters came for him.

“And the castle was surrounded by a vast thicket made of briars and thorns but the prince knew that happiness lay on the other side

“Right Potter you little bastard it’s time for even more fun than usual.”

“So he took out his sword, which shone bright silver in the sunlight and started to cut through the impenetrable forest. The thorns dissolved under his blade and so the Prince cut a swathe through the barrier”

“Come on get up you lazy little sod.” Harsh boots scraping on the concrete floor dealing kicks to already bruised ribs eliciting a groan from the victim of their ministrations.

“All day the Prince battled on, never giving up, no matter how harsh or unending his battle seemed”

Uncaring hands hauling him to feet that seemed unable to hold him up any more, dragging his limp unresisting form across the dusty cellar, leaving two wobbly trails to show his passing.

“Until finally the Prince came to a beautiful garden, filled with flowers. But everyone that he came upon lay deep in a magical slumber”

Up from the cellar they dragged him, Draco following at a safe distance. He had promised Harry that he would not let himself be seen, but he always came too now as if by watching Harry’s suffering he might share it and somehow be able to lessen the pain for Harry.

“Then all at once the Prince came upon a beautiful castle and walked in through huge carved doors which opened easily to give him entrance”

“Ah Harry, so good to see you. You slept well I trust” Voldemort’s sibilant tones punctuated by the cruel laughter of the Death Eaters

“So he walked through beautiful halls and up an intricately carved staircase following his instincts, following his heart. He passed more magical sleepers but kept on without stopping, searching for the end to his journey the deepest desire of his soul”

“Your battle is almost over now Harry and I have won! You will be come my plaything and I want you to know that everyone you cared for, everyone you loved will become mine, to serve me or to die.” And Harry screaming in pain as they tortured him yet again

“Until finally he came to a room high in a tower, decorated with love and hung with beauty. And there in the centre a canopied bed and on it the most exquisite creature that the Prince had ever seen. She too lay in a magical sleep so he made her way over to her to see if he could wake her from her slumber”

“Ah Severus! You come to join us; do you want to have some fun with our little playmate? Please do go ahead, I know how you hate him, just make it painful; that’s all I ask! He is so weak now, finally giving up aren’t you boy?”

“The Prince stood gazing at his princess at her golden locks and the long silvery lashes that curled on her blushing cheeks and he knew that he loved her with all that he had. She was so very beautiful and he could not help himself, so he leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on curved, crimson lips. As he did she all of a sudden drew a breath and opened eyes that filled with love and wonder. And all at once the magic that had bound them was destroyed because the bravery and love of one man had set them free and they would never again be enslaved. Then there were many celebrations and much rejoicing across the land and they all lived happily ever after.”

Then a surge of magic which almost blinded them all came from nowhere. Severus was down, lying very still on the floor in front of the Dark Lord. But Harry, who had seemed so near death just moments before, stood tall in front of his tormentors, surrounded by magic, which was pouring off him in waves of colour and light.

“It’s not over yet Tom,” He said in a voice deepened and made strong by his magic. “You haven’t killed me, not with all your efforts and I won’t let you have anyone else for your perverted games.”

Then another flash and Draco was not with Harry anymore in Riddle Manor but outside in sunlight, held tight in the arms of a very surprised Ron Weasley.

Draco fought like a mad thing, like a trapped animal. He could not be here with Weasley; he had to be with Harry, needed to be with Harry. So he kicked and squirmed and wriggled, but Ron was much stronger than him and did not seem about to let go any time soon. So Draco took his hand and raked his long untrimmed nails down Ron’s cheek cutting him deeply and leaving three red raggedy trails in the soft flesh.

“Ow! You little bastard!” Ron exclaimed losing his hold on Draco as his hand flew to his wounds.

That was all Draco needed to be off and he ran over the uneven ground, down the hill towards the manor and towards Harry.

Ron was too fast for him though and he rugby tacked Draco to the ground. Falling hard he felt the wind knocked from him and the crack of at least one rib, but still he struggled and spat and kicked.

“No. Let me go! Harry, Harry. Let me go you fucking arsehole. Let me go!”

His words were muffled by Ron’s body, which lay on top of him, pinning him down, protecting him.

“Harry’s fighting him. He’s fighting for his life right now. Let me go, he needs me I’ve got to help.”

Then finally sagging helplessly against the other boy’s greater strength

“ Please Weasley. Let me go.”

“No. You are to stay with me! I’ve got to look after you for Harry.” Said Ron, grunting as he tried desperately to subdue the squirming Draco. This got progressively easier as Draco gave in to despair.

Magic was everywhere, crackling with energy in the summer air and Draco looked up at the blue sky. Sky he had not seen for such a long time, sky that he and Harry had so wanted to see together and screamed his anguish and frustration to the heavens.

Struggling, looking for a way of release he noticed Snape close by and saw that he was being tended by Hermione and that Lovegood girl and he realised that Snape had killed Nagini. That he had not cursed Harry when he’d had the chance, and he understood all at once that Severus had been on Harry’s side all along, and Harry, Harry had known! But there was no help for Draco from Severus, as the man was unconscious and Hermione and the other girl seemed to be trying to revive him.

In desperation Draco tried once again to rake his fingernails down Ron’s cheek, but this time the other boy was too fast for him.

“Oh no you don’t you little cat!” He snarled as he used his big fist to trap both of Draco’s hands up above his head, “You’re not doing that to me again!”

But then Draco’s world erupted in indescribable pain and he felt like all his magic, his very life force was being dragged from him. All of the Death Eaters on the field that day suddenly lifted their voices in a single agonized scream and the magic surrounding them, if anything grew stronger yet. Pulsating with an energy that was almost tangible.

Suddenly the screams ceased along with the pain and Draco saw that his dark mark had gone his forearm was smooth and unblemished. Draco was free of Voldemort.

Then all at once in their heads, in the very air around them echoing in all their ears and in their hearts they heard and felt Harry’s final words to Voldemort, firm and strong and magnified a hundred times.

“No. No more death Tom. You can’t have them. No one else. Not today!”

This was followed by a roar of such terrible pain, of such anguish and yet such sure triumph that it was seared into the memories of each and every one of them for always. Finally there was an enormous, unbelievably bright flash of light and an explosion of sound as Riddle Manor collapsed in upon itself in whirlwind of brick, broken glass and dust.

“HARRY!!” Draco screamed.

Ron had released his hold and was staring at where the house had stood only seconds before. That was all that Draco needed to wrench himself free and run pell-mell naked and bleeding, uncaring of who saw him in this state, towards where Voldemort had died and where Harry lay somewhere under all that rubble.

The final horrifying image of that great and terrible day was of Draco Malfoy. Long hair wild and streaked with snot and blood, flying in the wind that had gathered with the destruction of the manor house, his face was marbled with tears looking like some wild demon of nightmare, kneeling in the wreckage sobbing and crying Harry’s name out time and time again, digging desperately at the debris with swollen bloody hands.

*******************************************



“No!” He shrieked as he woke to the morning and realised once again, as he had so many times before, that Harry was gone and that he was alone. He sat for a few moments panting heavily his head buried in his hands.

But then warm strong arms encircled him and he was pulled close to the, firm comforting chest of Ron Weasley.

“Hush Drax, it’s okay” Said Ron soothing Draco and gently stroking his hair

“Stop calling me Drax!” Said Draco in a disgruntled voice, wriggling away from Ron’s embrace, “it reminds me of those fucking Muggle superhero magazines that Goyle used to love so much!”

“It’s alright!” Said Ron gently; I know how grumpy you are after you’ve woken up from one of your dreams. “Do you want a cup of tea mate?”

Draco groaned, he actually quite liked Ron’s nickname for him, it indicated to Draco, that somebody, somewhere, cared about him and that had not been true for a very long time. He had never had a brother and he loved it that Ron had taken that role with him, sometimes Ron’s easy affection; his rough camaraderie was all that kept Draco alive.

Ron never minded hugging him, he did it a lot. He and Hermione were the only ones to ever touch Draco these days and Draco appreciated everything that they did for him, he really did. But he was grumpy and he needed tea and he knew that Ron would understand so he growled under his breath and murmured, just loud enough for his friend to hear him.

“Fuck off you great big prat! What the hell are you doing here anyway, barging in like you own the place?” He was ranting now, trying to recover, disguise his anguish. Though why he felt he had to do that around Ron he did not know. Ron had seen him far more disturbed than this and usually just ignored the insults that he threw one after another at the stoic red head. It didn’t stop him throwing them though, just for old times sake.

He sat up, rumpled with tossing and turning and too little sleep only to be handed a steaming cup of strong hot liquid, he peered into the mug and complained “You put too much milk in it you arsehole.”

“Shut up Drax!” Said Ron in a low voice. “I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t know how to say it, and mate, it is fucking tearing me apart.”

Draco looked at him through bleary, morning misted eyes. This was a serious tone for the youngest Weasley male and Draco realised that something must be wrong.

“What is it?” He asked his voice beginning to tremble, just catching on the last word. “What’s wrong, Ron?”

“It’s Harry mate. Me and Hermione have found him. He’s alive.”

*******************************************

They were sat side by side on the lumpy chintz sofa that filled one corner of Draco’s little hut. Draco was sure that were mice in one of the arms nestled in under the puke coloured flowers and cabbagy leaves. But his policy on small animals was that if they didn’t bother him he would not bother them and wouldn’t his life have been so much fucking easier if he had discovered that philosophy years earlier and used it liberally?

Draco cradled another cup of tea; his hands were still red from Ron’s perfunctory healing, quickly applied when Draco had managed to spill the steaming cup of liquid that he had been holding all over himself. This mug of tea was only half full, “just in case.” Ron had said. It was just as well that Weasley was being careful this time because Draco was trembling, like, well like a trembly thing which was the only simile that came to his befuddled brain he simply could not stop himself from shaking.

“Wwwhat does he look like, wwwhhy did he stay away?” He asked plaintively shivering under the blanket that Ron had thoughtfully draped over his shoulders.

Ron sipped his tea before answering. “He looks great Drax. He has kids now.” Then at Draco’s start, “but he’s a widower, his wife died. He doesn’t remember us though, none of us. Doesn’t really remember Hogwarts. Just has vague memories of you as this obnoxious kid that he used to fall out with all the time.”

“He doesn’t remember us, me and him?” Draco asked in a tiny voice. He couldn’t help the overwhelming feelings of despair that were coursing through him at Ron’s words

“Well that’s just it Drax, he’s been really damaged by Voldemort. He’s deaf and he was blind for a bit and without his magic for years. His memories were destroyed, all the good ones anyway. When we first saw him he looked at us politely like we were strangers. It nearly finished Hermione,” He said “nearly finished me too.” This last whispered under his breath.

“I…I…I couldn’t let you see him without knowing what had happened. He’ll be here later and Hermione sent me along to warn every one, but especially you. Hermione thinks that somehow he does still remember you. Deep down. ‘Cause his wife looked just like you. Could have been your sister. His kids look like they could belong to either of you.

“And then there is this thing he has about everything French and you mentioned teaching him that when you were together, learned the language he did, soon as he could and that can’t be easy without your hearing. But he did it and there is also his weird obsession with dragonflies. They are every bloody where in his house. Hermione reckons that might have something to do with you too? “Dragonflies!” Like dragon must have something to do with Draco. You know what she’s like when she gets an idea in her head, like a bleeding terrier with a rat”

“He’ll be here later?” Draco asked, his voice still barely more than whisper

“Yeah” Him and his kids and his mother-in-law who I call, “Fi the Fearsome” cause she frightens the living daylights out of me. We think she isn’t quite a Muggle, cause she can seem to see magic but she isn’t really a squib either she seems to be one of those Celtic hybrids. You know, does a bit of healing and stuff but no real controllable magic.” Ron was babbling now, unable to stop, as the words came tumbling out and Draco took in each one greedily, like food for a starving man.

He could see that Ron had had a shock over the last few days and he was telling it all to Draco in a seemingly unending stream of conciousness.

“It was fucking freaky mate,” Ron continued, “Harry and yet not Harry. And his magic is bleeding awesome! It radiates off him. I tell you Drax if he wanted to take over the wizarding world there wouldn’t be one of us who could stop him. He could do it just by lifting a finger. But he seems happy enough being a dad. And he’s awesome at that too! His kids are smashing!

“We thought he wouldn’t want to come back to the wizarding world, Fi was dead against it and Remus was too apparently. But Harry had decided that he wanted his eldest to start at Hogwarts when she was old enough, but he let his ma-in-law contact us. Thought we might think it was some sort of hoax if he did it. But he wants to make sure that it’s safe first, for himself. So he’ll be here at three and I have my orders from Herself that I have to warn everyone first, so…” He drained his cup. “I’d better get going, he’ll be here in a couple of hours and I’ve got to get back to help apparate his Muggle sister-in-law Iona, though why she wants to come too I do not know!

”You alright mate?” He asked, gently squeezing Draco’s shoulder.

He nodded at the larger man, somewhat distracted. “Yeah, it’s just so much to take in you know?”

“Tell me about it” Said Ron, “I still can’t believe it myself, but he’ll be here in a few short hours and I don’t want to give McGonagall apoplexy, not at her age, so she is next on my hit list.”

“Thanks Ron,” Draco finally heard himself mutter, “Thanks for everything.” He stood up and gave the taller man an awkward, one-armed hug and a tender pat on the cheek, which still carried the scars that Draco had caused in his anguish, so long ago. Ron had never held this mild disfigurement against Draco and when he had finally found him after never giving up on his search, he had told an apologetic Draco that he thought they gave him a rakish appearance and made him a hit with the ladies when he showed off his war wounds. Draco knew that of course for the rubbish it was, as there was no way that Ron would ever leave his Hermione, never mind to flirt with some mythical fans. But he really did appreciate Ron’s attempt to make him feel better about, well about everything really.

“Thanks.”

S’okay Drax,” Ron said. “We’re there if you need us, alright mate, just give us a shout yeah?”

Draco nodded, unable to speak and then he watched Ron for a long time as he headed up to the castle to fulfil his task of telling McGonagall the news.




*******************************************



Draco had arrived at the shrubbery at least an hour earlier than he needed to.

He had taken out his three robes and tried them all on and discarded them all and then gone back to the first one he had tried. The problem was, that none of them were suitable. What did you wear to meet your lover that you had not seen in twelve years, especially if all your clothes were little more than rags?


A man that you had only known as a boy with whom you had bonded in the midst of Death Eaters and cold dark cellars, acting as a dungeon? His mother probably could have told him, would have bought him something wonderful. But the Malfoy fortune had all been confiscated and his mother was a long time dead. Finally he had put on his second choice robe, because that after all had a hood in which he could hide, and slowly, he set off for his destination.

He waited for forty-five minutes, in the shadows of the trees. In his head, he said a thousand different things to Harry. Repeated some, discarded others and despaired of ever gaining any eloquence and then - after what seemed like an eternity, and at the same time, no time at all - he heard the crack of apparition and Harry was there in front of him, only feet away and Draco could say nothing, nothing at all.

This Harry was not whom he was expecting. From Ron’s description of a brain damaged, deaf widower Draco had been picturing someone who was a bit more broken, someone who might welcome Draco in his life to help look after him. Not this strong vibrant man. Harry was stunning, heart stoppingly handsome; in Draco’s eyes he was simply gorgeous.

There was no way that Draco could approach him. This was a powerful wizard. A man who could choose anyone he wanted in the wizarding world someone who, despite what Ron and Hermione believed, did not want to be seen with a broken down ex-crack-head and sometime whore.

Draco was not good enough for this man. Perhaps if things had been different, perhaps if they had escaped together, then something might have occurred between them but it was too late. Twelve years too late and Draco was not about to inflict himself on the newly returned, “Hero of the Wizarding World”. A hot feeling started in his throat and tears burned behind his eyes and he silently cursed the gods that would not give him a chance.

He shrank back as he saw Ron’s eyes roving over the bushes, seeking him out. But Ron did not understand, he had told Draco how crushed he and Hermione had felt when Harry had looked at them like they were strangers. How much worse would it be for Draco if the man he loved with all his soul looked at him like that? Or worse still regarded him with contempt or disgust? Draco knew if that were to happen, he would truly break into pieces and he simply could not take the risk as he was barely holding everything together as it was.

Instead he watched the progress of Harry and his family. Bright, shining children giggling and chattering, a fierce looking woman with iron-grey perma-curls who could only be the formidable Fi, and another woman, with wilder, darker curls that Draco assumed must be Iona. In amongst this glorious clan were Ron and Hermione, perfectly at home laughing and talking with the others. So Draco watched them pass, almost close enough to touch and yet forever out of reach. As the family moved on towards the castle, another bit of his heart was turned to ice and his eyes began to shine with those as yet unshed tears. Then the eldest child fell slightly behind the others and stared right at him, hiding in shadows of the undergrowth. He was pinned by her gaze, unable to move. She truly saw him he knew. She seemed to reach deep inside him, judge him and read his soul. They waited like that for several moments, unmoving, unflinching, whilst time stood still

Finally the spell was broken and the child was distracted by a flash of colour. It was something made up of cobalt and emeralds, reflecting in the dappled light. It was ethereal, magical. It was a blue hawk dragonfly, dancing on the breeze.