This is the Way I Break

Author's note--So based on the chapter title...where do you think they're going? I should warn you...VERY emotional chapter ahead. I'm sure you'll be able to tell, but just in case, the italics are either quotes from the seventh book (Deathly Hallows) or are for emphasis.

WARNING There are a few lines of extreme anti-homosexuality, as you will see. This DOES NOT in any way reflect my own personal views, nor am I actively insulting gay people. It is simply a portrayal of just how anti-gay London is in this story, which is what prompted Harry and Draco to leave in the first place. I apologize for any offense given, but I think you'll see how it fits into the story.

Also, I obviously had to take some liberties with this, but I tried to keep the parts as true to canon as possible. The other details are based on the image in MY head that I created based on the canon. Alright, that's as much as I can say without giving it away, so enjoy! (Bring tissues...)

This is the Way I Break by Graballz

Chapter 4

Going Home

Harry led the way back to and then through the train station to the wizarding section. Instead of having to go through the wall like at King’s Cross, the entrance to the wizarding platforms was through the small clock outside called “Little Ben”. Paddington station was the main hub for the wizarding rail, with the exception of the Hogwarts Express, which was the only magical train either Harry or Draco had ever been on.

They found their way easily and had no trouble purchasing tickets. Draco grumbled a little about having to wait about an hour for the next train, but the newly built wizarding rail only took two hours to drop them off in the West Country, much faster than its Muggle counterpart.

“So this is where you were born,” Draco smiled, looking around as they walked from the brand-new train station down the main street of Godric’s Hollow toward the square. “Small but quaint.”

“Hermione and I came here while we were hunting,” Harry said. The small village was still small and, as Draco said, quaint, but there were several newer shops that Harry didn’t remember seeing the last time he was here. Granted, it was night and Harry had been mainly focused on finding his parents’ graves, but it warmed Harry’s heart to know that Godric’s Hollow was still a thriving community.

They paused in the center of town as the memorial statue materialized, and Draco barely managed to stifle his gasp of surprise. His eyes softened as he looked at the young likeness of his lover, though suddenly the reality of what Harry had actually lived through coursed through him. The blonde glanced at the Gryffindor out of the corner of his eye, seeing Harry struggle to keep his expression neutral.

“The church was decorated for Christmas, the last time I was here,” the Gryffindor said in a low, reverent voice, pointing at the small building. The stained glass windows weren’t as easily seen this time, Harry noticed.

“It’s Sunday,” Draco commented neutrally. “Service must be going on.”

“The graveyard’s in the back,” Harry breathed.

“Do you want to go visit them?” The blonde’s voice was quiet. Harry nodded, not trusting his control over his emotions. “Do you want me to come?” Another nod.

Despite the fact that they were both pulling rolling luggage, Draco managed to shift the handle of his to his far arm so that he wrapped his closer one around Harry’s waist to show support. He felt Harry lean into him a little, glad that he could be strong for his lover.

They left the suitcases at the kissing gate, and as he set foot in the cemetery, Harry’s eyes immediately flew to the white marble tombstones that were almost at the back. Now that Harry knew what the headstones looked like, he saw that they were fairly recognizable, even at the back of the graveyard.

Harry kept a tight hold on Draco’s hand as he led the blonde past the rows, pausing at one and pointing.

“That’s where Dumbledore’s mother and sister are buried,” he informed Draco, and the Slytherin had just barely nodded when Harry started moving again, turning abruptly down the second row past the one where the Dumbledores rested.

Draco’s heart accelerated as his gaze was drawn to the white stones, and even before Harry stopped in front of them and knelt, Draco knew which ones they were. He bowed his white blonde head as his lover started speaking in a shaky voice.

“Hi, Mum, Dad,” Harry couldn’t help the tears that spilled down his cheeks. “It’s been a while; I was gone, but now I’m back…at least, for a little bit. I—this is Draco.” Harry abruptly looked up at him, and though he felt the gravity of the situation, the blonde couldn’t help smiling sadly but fondly at the Gryffindor.

“Hello, Mister Potter, Mrs. Potter,” Draco cleared his throat and nodded to the headstones since Harry was obviously waiting for him to address them. “You have the best son in the world, and…I’m sorry you never got the chance to know him…”

The blonde had absolutely no idea what else to say, but just before he began stammering awkwardly, Harry let out a sob, and Draco sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Draco inhaled sharply, fighting back his own emotions while Harry sobbed out his grief on Draco’s shoulder.

Harry quieted but stayed in Draco’s arms, leaning his head on his lover’s shoulder while he stared at his parents’ graves, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes every so often.

“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,” Draco read softly, reaching his hand up to brush his palm over Harry’s cheek, wiping away the wetness.

“Hermione said it meant living beyond death…living after death,” Harry said dully. “I remember thinking, ‘They weren’t living. They were gone.’ And that night,” Harry’s mouth twitched, “I remember wishing that I was under the snow with them; at least then we’d be together and it wouldn’t hurt so much…”

The Boy Who Lived dissolved into tears again as Draco pulled him closer.

“Oh, Harry,” he breathed sadly. He knew that there really wasn’t anything he could say to make Harry feel better; this was one of those moments in life where he would have to just let things be, hard as that was. It made Draco physically ill to see his boyfriend in such pain, but he was helpless to fix it. Harry’s parents were dead, and it was perhaps the greatest tragedy Harry endured out of everything he went through. It was normal for him to feel sad, and there wasn’t anything Draco could do, short of showing Harry that he understood.

He waited patiently, nuzzling Harry every so often, until the Gryffindor stirred. They both stood, and Harry stepped forward, laying his hand on the cool stone.

“We’re going to go now,” he told them softly. “But I’ll be back; I think we’re going to be here about a week, so I’ll come back and see you. Bye, Mum and Dad…I love you.”

He turned and walked away with Draco at his side, hearing first his mother’s voice, then his father’s, echo in his head from the night he had killed Voldemort.

You’ve been so brave.

We are…so proud of you.

They gathered up their luggage at the gate and started back towards the square. Harry paused, looking towards the street that ran beside the church, going in the opposite direction of the way they had come into town. In the daylight, he could see down the row of houses: where they ended and the open country began. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as a sense of déjà vu washed over him.

“Harry?” Draco had stopped beside him when Harry froze, but after his boyfriend didn’t show any signs of moving, he began to wonder if Harry was having some sort of panic attack. “Should we find a hotel and check in?” He suggested, hoping to snap Harry out of whatever trance he seemed to be in.

“Not necessary,” the Gryffindor replied as he started down the street in the direction he’d been staring. “I know where we can stay.”

“Where’s that?”

Draco’s question didn’t go unanswered for long. Harry walked right up to the rusted gate and touched it, watching the sign rise out of the ground. He read the words once more, and then his eyes wandered to the edges, where people who had visited had signed their names in Everlasting Ink, carved their initials into the wood, or written messages of encouragement to him. The words he remembered reading when he was seventeen were no longer the most recent or even visible. He heard his boyfriend’s sharp intake of breath that mirrored his own as he read the ones that had been scrawled over all of the rest.

We don’t need your kind, faggot!

All queers should die!

Who needs the Killing Curse? You’re going to die from AIDS anyway!

“Whoever wrote this is obviously Muggleborn,” Harry murmured, pointing to the last one.

“Whoever wrote that obviously has a fucking death wish,” Draco snarled back, wishing he could find all of the homophobic plebians who had actually taken the time to come to this sacred memorial and deface it. “Stupid fucking Mudbloods.”

Harry opened his mouth, intent on reproaching Draco sharply for using that foul insult, but he caught himself right before the words came out. He knew the blonde was righteously angry, not prejudiced and getting upset with him would not help their situation.

“Hermione could probably figure out a way to spell this off,” Harry settled for saying in return, glancing at Draco subtly out of the corner of his eye.

“I will find a way to spell this off,” the blonde sneered, catching on to the Gryffindor’s little mind-game and approving, as it was rather Slytherin of him, even though Draco didn’t particularly appreciate Harry using it against HIM.

“Just ignore it,” Harry said suddenly. “They’re wrong, and they’re not worth our anger, Draco. They’re not going to keep me out of my parents’ house…out of MY house.”

“I’d like to find that stupid fucker and give HIM AIDS,” Draco muttered darkly as Harry drew his wand, using it to cut away the ivy and weeds that prevented him from opening the gate.

“You don’t have AIDS,” Harry sounded more curt than he meant to, and he concentrated on burning a path up to the doorway, swallowing hard as his memory swam with the images he had seen from that night so long ago…Voldemort walking this same path…breaking into the house…killing…

Draco fell silent as they approached. The yard was certainly unkempt since no one had bothered to take care of it in seventeen years. The hedges were overgrown, covering the windows, and the dark ivy nearly overtook the house. It looked almost normal—if a little shabby—on the ground floor, at least. The curtains were open, though the sunlight made it difficult to see inside the house.

“That’s the sitting room, there, behind the hedges,” Harry said over his shoulder. “That’s where we were when he arrived…my father was making colored smoke come out of his wand…I was wearing blue pajamas…”

By the slightly absent-sounding tone, Draco guessed that his lover was remembering. Harry had told him about being possessed by the Dark Lord, which had meant being able to see out of the monster’s own eyes, like the memory of that night. Draco shivered abruptly, trying to block out the horrific screaming that came from Harry’s mouth that night while he was trapped in a nightmare, before Draco was able to wake him.

“I’m right here, love,” Draco replied softly, touching the Gryffindor’s back as they neared the doorway.

There were no steps leading up to the cottage as there had been at Grimmauld. The door was closed, but Harry pointed his wand, whispering, and it creaked open slowly in the exact opposite fashion than the last time it had been opened by magic. Draco carefully extracted the suitcase handle out of Harry’s hand, leaving them both on the path as he wrapped his arms around the black-haired boy from behind, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder as they stared at the wall on the inside of the Potters’ house.

“Want me to go first?” Draco offered, pressing a kiss below Harry’s ear. The Gryffindor shook his head emphatically, taking a deep breath and—instead of reaching for the knob—placed his hand on the door and pushed it all the way open, pausing in the doorway.

His body shook as the scene replayed itself, as it had so many nights before, since he finally learned what had happened, but it was never so real, so vivid, as now. Harry took a step forward into the house, barely aware of the blonde behind him, taking fast, short breaths as the memory reenacted inside his head.

“My father was here…wandless…he yelled for my mother to take me and run…and then he—he—” Harry didn’t realize that half-sentences were pouring out of his mouth or that he was motioning.

Draco’s mouth went completely dry as he clearly saw the cramped little hallway the front door opened into. There was a pram that was pushed against the wall, covered in seventeen years’ worth of dust but undisturbed. The blonde’s skin crawled; he could just picture the tragedy, which upset him, and knowing that his lover had watched it firsthand out of the eyes of his parents’ murderer made Draco’s heart ache for Harry all the more.

“My mother ran up the stairs with me,” Harry continued, looking up at the banister. “She was screaming…she heard him die…she knew he was coming…”

The Slytherin followed his boyfriend towards the stairs, noting that they left footprints in the dust going up. He made sure to keep a hand on Harry, just in case.

Harry’s heart was hammering, and as he came to the upper floor, the back of his mind wondered if it was possible for him to have a heart attack. His eyes immediately focused on the door at the end of the hallway…it was closed…

Draco glanced around. All of the doors were closed; there were only four of them since it was a small cottage, but Harry was moving confidently towards the farthest door, pausing as he reached out for the knob.

“She was…she was piling boxes and…a chair…behind the door, trying to block him out…” Harry said, and Draco reached out, covering the Gryffindor’s shaking hand with his own. Together, they turned the knob, opened the door, and Harry let out a low wail of despair.

Draco himself whimpered unintentionally. This was the room on the right side of the cottage, where the roof and part of the walls had been destroyed. It still looked exactly like it did from that night; there were bits of plaster from the half-blasted walls everywhere, mixed with large and small splinters of wood.

The crib.

The blonde blinked through the hot tears, noticing the roof shingles that blended into the mess. Everything had a thick layer of dirt on it, and it looked…shattered.

“This—this is—where—” Draco tried to form a sentence and failed, but Harry nodded as his own tears scalded his cheeks.

“She dropped me in the crib,” Harry took two steps into the room, reaching his hand out as if his former bed was still there, but Draco snapped out of his own stupor and quickly pulled Harry back to him.

“No, love,” he whispered as Harry struggled a bit. “We don’t need to go in any farther.”

“She tried to use her own body as a shield,” the Gryffindor continued brokenly.

“She loved you,” Draco reminded him, holding him tightly as Harry’s composure began to slip as the moment in his memory drew nearer.

“She begged him,” his voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. “She pleaded with him to take her…to kill her…not me…she begged him…she wanted to die…instead of me…and he killed her! HE JUST KILLED HER! SHE WAS WANDLESS AND BEGGING FOR MERCY!”

Draco reacted instantly as Harry brought his wand up with such a precise, snakelike movement. He snatched the piece of wood out of his lover’s hand.

Harry could feel the movement that seemed so uncharacteristic for him, but it was as if he couldn’t stop it. He was, after all, observing not through his own eyes—since he was looking at his one-year-old self—but through someone else’s; someone for whom the snakelike movement was NOT uncharacteristic…and though the wand was taken from his grip, Harry still heard the words, watching his mother drop like a stone beside the crib in which his younger self stood, bewildered, helpless, and orphaned.

Draco half-expected Harry to collapse, but he still staggered under the Boy Who Lived’s dead weight. Harry was sobbing uncontrollably, locked in that horrendous memory once again, and Draco would have given anything to take that away from him.

“Mum…Mummy…” Harry called out weakly, reaching for a dead woman, and Draco renewed his tight grip, kissing whatever part of Harry’s head and neck he could reach.

“Shhhh, Harry, it’s okay,” Draco crooned, trying to bring his boyfriend back to the present. “He can’t hurt her anymore; she’s safe now. She’s not in pain, and she wouldn’t want you to be in pain either. She’s watching over you, Harry, protecting you; just like she always has…just like she always will. Easy there, love, I’ve got you. I’m here, Harry. I love you.”

Slowly Harry came around as Draco’s loving words penetrated his brain, reminding him that there was nothing he could do to change the past. His parents were beyond pain, beyond suffering, and Harry realized with a start exactly what ‘destroying death’ meant: they had an Afterlife; Harry was sure of it. He remembered seeing them in the forest, and his parents, Remus, and Sirius had been glad to see them. They were happy now, wherever they were, and together, and if that didn’t defy and destroy death, then Harry didn’t know what would.

“Is this all you’ve seen of the house, love?” Draco asked gently once Harry seemed lucid. The Gryffindor nodded, and Draco carefully backed out of the room that had once been the nursery, shutting the door in front of them. He tucked Harry’s wand into his sleeve with his own. “Do you want to look around?”

At Harry’s second nod, Draco directed him to the next door and pulled it open to find a linen closet that adjoined the nursery. There were several towels, blankets, and sets of sheets, disgusting and grimy but folded neatly on the lower shelves, that hadn’t been disturbed. The upper shelves and a chunk of the back wall were mangled and missing, and Draco quickly shut the door, pulling Harry over to the other one.

The third door was a bathroom, and Harry brought his hand up to run it over the faded old wallpaper of Snitches, broomsticks, and other Quidditch paraphernalia. His palm left a large clean spot on the wall, while the dust and grime was transferred to Harry’s hand. He stared at it for a second.

“Now I know where you got your innate flying abilities,” Draco tried to joke softly, glad that the loo appeared untouched by the brutality. “They were starting you early.”

“I never saw this before,” Harry replied, and his voice was a mix of wonder, disappointment, and regret.

“That’s okay, Harry,” Draco said pointedly, recognizing the self-blame rising in Harry’s eyes for not setting foot inside the house sooner. “Let’s look at this last room, shall we?”

Draco opened the last door, revealing a long-unused master bedroom.

“My parents’ room,” Harry breathed, and Draco gave a hopeful half-smile at the slightly happier tone, as if Harry was seeing their lives—instead of their deaths—for the first time. He took Harry’s hand, and together, they began to explore the room.

**********

Author's note--Whew! So now you know! And I can't tell you HOW many times I read and re-read the "Godric's Hollow" chapter of DH as well as Voldemort's memory of killing James and Lily Potter. I tried very hard to get all of the known details right and to make up believable unknown ones.

So...what do you think? *cringe*

And alright, so I know Harry cried a little in this chapter...I guess I should probably warn you now that the whole crying theme is only going to get worse. But I mean, come on, if you think about what they're going through, it's just one bucket of angst after another, so of COURSE they're going to be crying off and on through this whole week...right? I promise they won't be wimpy little sap-sobbers (whatever the fuck THAT means) but I do think that more emotion than normal is warranted for this installment. Angst warning, remember?

But it'll also be one of those things where one or the other tears up and then they're okay again. And then something else happens and they feel like crying again. But they don't and they're okay again. Then a couple of tears slip out when they get choked up, but then they're okay again. So, yeah, there you have it.

Hopefully I explained everything okay, but as always, if something is unclear (if I missed a detail lol) please please ask, and I'll do my best to answer! Thanks for reading!

gorgeousbrowneyes Thanks for your review! And yes, I do (love the random convos) lol It sounds like your mom is a little bit more accepting of everything than my mom is. But yeah, I don't get why they think we'd be lesbian if we're writing about two guys. *rolls eyes* If nothing else, that just means I'm a gay man trapped in a woman's body. (Just like one of my very good friends--who is a guy and is married--claims that he is a lesbian trapped in a man's body because he loves women!) lol As opposed to loving guys, but he loves his wife and daughter above all other women.

Good! Giggling was exactly the reaction I wanted! *happy dance* Muggle gay district...not exactly. But now you know! Thanks, hon!

Roozette Very glad you liked the "Mrs. Black" part! As far as Harry still owning the house...when he and Draco left London, (according to the first chapter) he "entrusted" it to the Order of the Phoenix. Since Harry and Draco thought they were leaving for good and had no intention of returning to England, he essentially gave ownership of Grimmauld Place to the Order (an entity, rather than an individual). From what I gathered when I read the books, Dumbledore was the only real 'official' leader of the Order. When he died, I didn't see a specific person that JKR named as taking over Dumbledore's role as leader. I thought of it more as a 'joint leadership' between several senior members, rather than being able to say, "so-and-so took over when Dumbledore died." (If I'm wrong, and if you think there was a definite leader after Dumbledore, please tell me!)

Therefore when Kingsley Shacklebolt became Minister of Magic, that made him the (more) official head of the Order, even though, technically, by that point, the Order was no more because the war was over and they had won. Since Harry just left the house to the "Order" (and not naming a specific person to be in charge of it), Kingsley basically jumped in and took it over, taking ownership of the house on behalf of the Order, and then made an "Order" decision to merge it with the Ministry.

Now you might be thinking, "That doesn't seem right." or "Can he do that?" And the answer would be, you're correct. It may not have been the right thing to do and he may not have had the authority to do that, but (while he was doing it) no one protested. No one stood up to him. None of the other Order members (for their own various reasons) thought that what Shacklebolt was doing was unfair to Harry, and none of them stood up on Harry's behalf, since Harry himself was across the ocean and had no idea what was going on.

Now, had Harry known right away, I'd imagine that he might have come back sooner and gotten a solicitor to fight Shacklebolt in a legal battle. And he still could do that now (claiming wrongful assumption of ownership and abuse of power and get Grimmauld back) but he's only going to be in England for a week, and that legal battle would take much longer. Plus Harry's not sure he wants to stay in England; right now, they're just visiting and they're planning on returning to America, where they live.

Does that make sense? Basically, the long and short of it was that I didn't want them to stay in Grimmauld (because they ALWAYS go to Grimmauld...I wanted something different) so I took Grimmauld out of the equation as a potential place for them to stay.

Thanks for the review!

thrnbrooke Hey, you hit the nail on the head! But whether it was morally right or wrong, it's only legally wrong if someone protests and files a lawsuit. (Now, here in America, someone would've been all over that...but this is England...they don't just sue on a whim over there! Hard for us Americans to understand sometimes, but we really are much more sue-happy than other countries.)

Also, quick note about Kreacher. Innately, he knows and recognizes blood masters before any other type of authority. But when Harry left (and essentially "abandoned" Kreacher) then the next person who asserted any authority over the house-elf was Shacklebolt, so Kreacher, in the absence of another (more legal) master, obeyed. But then when Harry came back, Kreacher wanted Harry to be his master again, but since Shacklebolt had ownership of the house through "underhanded" means, Kreacher couldn't do anything about that.

BUT when Draco asserted his Black blood, Kreacher legitimately recognized him as his primary master. (Just as a "what if" or "for example", if Draco had made that assertion before they ever left England, then Kreacher never would have recognized Shacklebolt's authority because he already had a blood master. But Harry wasn't blood related to Sirius; Kreacher was bequeathed to Harry through his godfather's will. And Kreacher can't just arbitrarily choose who he wants to serve; authority has to be asserted over house elves. Otherwise Dobby would've bound himself to Harry and left the Malfoys of his own free will, if he'd been able.)

The reason for that is this: Sirius had no children, so after his death, his next-of-kin would have been his surviving cousins, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Since Bellatrix was the oldest, she would've been the first heir, and since Andromeda was disowned, Narcissa would have been the second heir to take over if Bella didn't (for whatever reason).

Bellatrix died in the Final Battle, and Narcissa was thrown into Azkaban (along with Lucius) and sentenced to the Kiss. Since Bella had no children, Narcissa's "second heir" status would pass to her son, Draco, who would have taken over the house and Kreacher, had Sirius not bequeathed them to Harry in his will.

But now, Draco IS asserting his blood ties, and Kreacher recognizes his blood master over any legal master (so good ol' Kingsley is SOL, at the moment...but Kingsley doesn't know that yet.)

Whew, that was a long explanation! I hope that makes sense, and thanks for bringing it up in your review! LOL

tas TAS!! *HUGS* Good to hear from you! Sorry I've been so MIA lately. What about George (Fred died)...well, Draco is fairly anti-Weasley, so that automatically bumps any place of George's from the list. Maybe Harry should bump into Dudley...hmm, never thought of that. I didn't think Harry knew where the Dursleys were relocated to, but he also has no reason to dig into information to find out. (I do have a different story where Harry reconnects with Dudley, though...it's not finished, of course LOL but I didn't want to use the same plot idea twice)

And I totally agree with you that they "should" find a hotel like that...but alas, Murphy's law, right? And as far as Arthur's sins go...yes, we will find out exactly what he needs to confess and all that jazz. (But not yet..not till Chapters 7 or 8 or later)

Thanks for checking out the drawings! Did you leave him a comment? *hopeful* Thanks, darling! Miss you too!

vampirekisses YAY, more giggles! Well, the story IS called "Break"...but with regards to them sticking together, remember that Harry and Draco are still together in "Die", which is already published and is set after this week. (So they don't break up or die or anything like that). But I can definitely tell you that their relationship will be tested to the breaking point...and honestly, while I was writing that particular scene (that is coming up in Chapter 7, I think), it was touch-and-go for a little bit. I was horrified that (the way the story was playing out in my head) Draco was actually going to break up with Harry...but I'll just remind you that they are still together in the next installment, whatever happens here.

Thanks for your review!

DracaMalfoy Yes, SO glad Nikki isn't dead! And a Coven party sounds WONDERFUL, if I can put the homework and finals on hold long enough to enjoy myself! LOL Here's more...whaddaya think? Thanks, hon!