Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 41: The Triumph Of King Arthur


George stepped into the kitchen and poured a cup of tea for himself, and another for Draco, when Molly stepped in through the back door and looked about.

“George! Oh, sweetie, it’s good to see you again so soon! Was that Harry I heard stepping out? Did Draco have a good first day at the shop?”

George smiled while he reeled under the barrage of questions, letting his enchanted eye roll a few times to convey the impression of being overpowered by questions. His mum hated it when he did that, which more or less guaranteed that he did just that…whenever he was sure he could get away with it.

“Likewise, yes and very…in that order. Draco did great, and he’s got a sense of humor after all, which you’d never have convinced us of a couple years ago. Harry was having one hell of a row with Kingsley, then Draco interrupted them. Harry stormed off for a run. Couldn’t get a word out, he was so red. Hope nothing serious happened. D’you know what he’s on about?”

Molly nodded and went back to her spice cabinet. It was almost time for supper, since Arthur would be home in an hour.

“It was The Daily Prophet again. Some awful story upset him earlier today, and he’s been worked up ever since. He said he’d Firecall Kingsley earlier, but I take it that didn’t go well. The paper said that the body of a Muggle boy was dumped in Shropshire last night. Marked up the way Draco was. Might have been the same wicked devils that hurt him, since the Aurors detected magic involved at the scene. The Muggle authorities don’t know anything worthwhile, but all the paper said was that the damage to the poor thing’s body was ’extensive’ and was ’likely the product of weeks of abuse.’ Just horrid. I can’t blame Harry for being upset, but he lets these things tear him apart inside. It’s just unhealthy.”

George sipped his tea, and then Draco walked in and took his tea numbly, sipped at it blankly, then apologized and told them he was going upstairs to rest a little before supper.

Molly excused him with a polite promise to check on him in time for supper, then busily started cutting vegetables for the stew pot.

“Draco seems terribly quiet, mum. Looks to me like he was rattled by seeing Harry so worked up. You sure he’s alright?”

Molly fixed a keener gaze on her son.

“Did Harry yell at Draco? Threaten him? Any of that kind of thing?”

“No…nothing like that. He looked like he was about to…then he just told us he was going for a run and walked out the door. That was all, but you’d have thought Draco had seen a ghost.”

Molly nodded quietly, glad that Harry had at least controlled himself more than before.

“George…it’s time you and Fred knew something about Draco. I know you heard about him being a captive of Death Eaters and all that truck, but there’s a lot you don’t know, and you’re past old enough to understand it. That boy was tortured in the worst ways, for almost a year, and he’s lucky to be sane. Braver folks than you have cracked under things like that. Draco can’t deal with violence…or with anger directed at him. I know you promised to go easy on your pranks, and Harry told you about not rough-housing with him, but now you know why. He’s just been well enough to go out in public this last week, and two weeks before that he was half dead of fever and infected wounds. Harry’s watching that temper of his for a reason. One harsh word to Draco, and there’s no telling what it would do to him. Do you understand?”

George nodded soberly, and tried to hide behind his teacup. There was no disputing his mum when she was like this, and there was nothing to dispute. Draco had seemed like he was in pretty decent shape today, if a little titchy at times, but obviously there were things that weren’t even being spoken aloud, and Draco had endured a lot more than Fred or George had guessed at or imagined.

George assured his mum that he understood, and promised he’d make sure Fred got the picture as well, then made his way to the Floo and headed for home. It was disconcerting, thinking of Draco, whom he’d always thought of as a Death Eater poster boy, as a fragile creature, too damaged by violence to handle even seeing it. The Floo flared green and high, and George was gone.


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Draco sat in his room, utterly failing to actually rest, and made a truly pathetic attempt to research one of Harry’s books about dreams and nightmares. It didn’t work. His heart had slowed down, and his nerves had settled, but he still had Harry on his mind.

How could he think of anything else? Harry wasn’t just his mission. He wasn’t just a goal…he was also the reward waiting for Draco at the end. He was the motivation for pushing forward and getting through this. Harry was all he was supposed to be thinking of. And right on cue, Harry’s footsteps were on the stairs, even and measured, hinting at calm. Draco took a deep breath and tried to stay relaxed.

Harry stood in the doorway, head hung down, looking irritable and sheepish at the same time. Draco didn’t dare say anything.

“I didn’t yell.”

“I know.”

“What…what did you think you were doing?”

Draco pulled in another breath, trying not to look up. His instincts told him not to challenge Harry too directly, but at the moment, he was genuinely angry. He wanted to lift his chin and scold Harry pointedly, but his nerves just wouldn’t allow it. He settled for saying the words matter-of-factly, and he hoped Harry would stay reasonable when he heard what Draco had to say.

“Harry. That was Kingsley. You…you were going to…do that to the Minister. How….how could you even think that was alright?”

Harry set his jaw carefully, and spoke with calm and deliberate evenness.

“Why wouldn’t it be alright? I didn’t try to make him kill Muggles, or send innocent people to Azkaban. I just suggested that he not name me as a suspect. I’m protecting this house. The one you’re living in. The way I see it, there’s no better use for a power than that. You interrupted me, and now we may have Aurors sniffing around the place sometime soon…all thanks to you.”

There was something even more chilling about Harry’s vague irritable calm, and his weird certainty that he was right. Draco could see Harry’s point, but there was an obvious flaw in Harry’s reasoning.

“Harry…you…you shouldn’t control people’s minds. It’s like rape. You take them against their will, and make them do what you want. You don’t give them a choice. It isn’t right.”

“So it was right when I did it to that nurse at St. Mungo’s, but now it’s wrong when it doesn’t help you? I’m not so sure I see your point. You wouldn’t have seen your mother if I hadn’t intervened, but when I keep Kingsley’s people out of our hair, I’ve crossed a line?”

“I was wrong about the nurse. I was so happy to get to see my mother that I didn’t even think about what it meant. When…when you did that to Kingsley, I realized how terrible it was. If it means never seeing my mother again, so be it, but you shouldn’t do that to people. If any of them ever found out what you were doing…Merlin…it would be trouble.”

Harry stiffened, and a serious frown slid across his face.

“How would that happen? Huh? Would someone tell them? Would it slip out in conversation?”

“No! Never! Harry…I wouldn’t tell anyone. There are other Legilimency practitioners out there. They check for mind alteration spells at the Ministry. If you got caught…it would be a disaster, but I wouldn’t tell.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Harry turned and walked away calmly. Draco flopped back onto his bed, stifling the urge to cry. He pulled a pillow to him, curling against it, realizing suddenly that it was Harry’s pillow, and that it held his scent. It was comforting and distressing at the same time.

‘I’m pathetic. His approval means so much, but I can’t just let him abuse his power. That’s the same as giving up. How do I stop him when I can barely stand telling him no? I’m supposed to save Harry, and I can’t even argue with him without nearly pissing myself with fright. Fucking pathetic!'

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Arthur Weasley emerged from the Floo, happy to be home at last. He could smell beef stew in the kitchen, and his mouth was already watering when he reached the kitchen. Molly was busy checking a loaf of bread in her oven, and Arthur quietly reached for a spoon. He was an inch from the pot when Molly’s voice stopped him cold.

“Just because I’m busy it doesn’t mean I’m blind or deaf! Arthur Weasley! Put that spoon down and get your tea! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Now shoo!”

Arthur placed the spoon on the counter, admitting defeat. A cup of tea and a kiss later, he was back in his favorite chair, wondering what the boys were up to today. Draco almost certainly must have had a better day at work than Arthur. It had been funny enough in the end, but a devil of a piece of work at the time.

Harry and Draco came down the stairs when Molly called, looking sullen and quiet. Arthur thanked his lucky stars for the tale he was about to spin.

“Odd day at work today, let me tell you! Jenkins and Robinson were eaten by a rabid couch! Thought it was a simple Disenchantment job…but oh no!…turned out to be a full possession. A widow called it in, saying she couldn’t enter her own living room safely. We took the entire crew in, and still had to call for a specialist. Plays hell with our budget when we have to contract out.”

The beef stew was rapidly being devoured, but at least the boys seemed to be paying attention to the story. Arthur finished off a few more bites and continued.

“We couldn’t even get in the room at first, it blocking the door and all, snarling and snapping the whole while. We finally spelled the door away, and I sent the younger lads in first to wrestle it still while we worked on Disenchantments. Nothing was working, and I was getting a bit frustrated, when the deuced thing broke free and ate Jenkins. No harm done, mind you, what with no teeth and all, being a couch, but it sucked him right in and gave us a right scare at the time. Two of us holding onto Jenkins legs, and two more trying to pin the couch down. Wound up losing our grip on the tricky bugger and that’s when it took down Robinson. Fenwick took a caster to the foot and got a broken toe for his efforts, so we pulled back to the drawing room and called for reinforcements.”

By now, Molly was sporting the look of sardonic amusement she usually wore during Arthur’s stories, and Draco and Harry were smirking between bites of stew. Arthur wolfed down a few more spoonfuls with gusto, then carried on.

“Well, at first we called in a Curse-Breaker, and tried fighting the thing off with a coat rack and a lamp stand. Fight of my life, let me tell you. I thought it had me for certain, when I slipped on a fallen tea cozy. If it hadn’t been for Fenwick and that lamp stand, this would be a very different story! The Curse-Breaker couldn’t get any results, but he detected a spirit presence. Just our luck to have a fellow on board with a little experience in Divinations.

We finally called in a chappie from the Exorcisms and Regulation of Spirits Department. Little, nut-brown, spectacled fellow in a diaper of sorts. We launched another assault and pushed it back to the wall while he burnt some bloody awful herbs and sang some little ditty in his native tongue, and a minute later, the couch starts up this awful roaring. We’re all half deafened by the blasted thing, fighting for our very lives, when the spirit of her dead husband, who apparently loved that couch more than his own wife, pops out and floats away, and…I’m telling the truth here mind you…the blessed thing belched out everything in it in one great breath. Robinson, Jenkins, the poor old dear’s missing cat, Sofie, thirty-seven Galleons in lost change, and two left shoes! Covered the entire lot of us in lint, and it took up the whole day to clean it all, but a job well done.”

Both the boys were chuckling and trying not to spill the contents of their spoons while they ate, and Arthur prided himself on a job well done of another sort. Obviously the mood here had been a bit sour, and things seemed to have turned around nicely. A man can’t properly relax in a house full of tension, and after a day like that, he needed a bit of peace and comfort and one of Molly’s meals. If it cheered the lads up a bit, then all the better. Arthur timed his last comment as Harry raised his glass of milk to his lips and took a gulp.

“Poor Jenkins. Smelled like cat pee and old couch the whole day. Couldn’t even spell it off him ‘til we got back to the office.”

Harry lost it. Milk came up through his nose while he started laughing, and that set Draco off. While the boys cracked up, guffawing until they looked like they hadn’t any wind left, Molly gave Arthur a glare that smacked of mingled disapproval and affection. She knew full well what he’d been up to, and why he’d told the story as he had. She just hated having to spell away spilled milk. No one but Molly caught the broad wink and waggled eyebrow that Arthur employed with a flourish, before taking up his spoon and finishing his stew with a quietly dignified air about him all the while.

The evening passed smoothly enough after that, and Harry looked a bit sheepish long after dinner, since Draco couldn’t stop giggling when he pictured the milk spraying from Harry’s nose.

Night finally came, and Draco made ready for bed while Harry changed in his own room. Given the events of the day, time seemed to crawl while he waited for Harry to come to bed, and Draco fought off tiny, niggling doubts the whole while.

‘He can’t stay away tonight. He can’t. I only just get close to him, and then this happens. Please…please…please come to bed, Harry! I don’t want to be alone. He has to come. What if he’s so angry he won’t sleep in here? What about the spells I need? What if I wake up in the middle of the night? Where is he? It’s taking too long…he never takes this long. He hates me. He couldn’t possibly-’

Draco’s worries screeched to a halt when Harry walked around the corner and into the room, dressed in his pajamas, looking as calm as if nothing had happened. Draco’s only struggle was keeping the pathetic look of relief and gratitude off of his face while Harry slipped between the sheets.

Draco curled closer in the dark, nervous about Harry’s mood, and while Harry muttered the spells to ward away nightmares, Draco reached out and took hold of Harry’s left arm, wrapping his own left arm around it as he had before. Harry settled back down, and relaxed completely, and that was when they realized that there was no sheet between them.

In the hurry to get into bed, they hadn’t left a sheet between them. Harry pulled away a little.

“I’m sorry. Let me get these sorted out. I forgot for a moment…just a second.”

“No.”

Harry paused, surprised.

“What?”

“No…don’t…don’t get up…or change the sheets. I…I don’t mind…as long as it’s you. Just…tell me you aren’t angry with me? Please?”

Harry was still reeling from the notion of Draco feeling more comfortable near him, but he relaxed back onto his pillow again with a quiet sigh.

“I’m not angry with you. Not really. Not at all. You said what you believed, and you did what you thought was right. Just because I don’t agree…it doesn’t mean I’m angry at you. You have every right to think and say and do what you want. I…I’m sorry you were worried. Maybe I was wrong…or maybe I was right, but I never meant to make you afraid. I tried, Draco…I tried to make sure I didn’t lose my temper, and I thought I did pretty good. I guess it just wasn’t good enough. I‘ll try harder, or-”

Harry’s rambling was interrupted by lips suddenly pressed against his own, and he had no desire to interrupt Draco’s efforts at that moment. It was a stronger, more certain kiss than before, teasing his lower lip with a hint of teeth, then moving back to let him participate. They lost themselves in the dark, minds empty of everything but the comfort and pleasure that came of closeness, and the subtle freedom that came of abandoning words in favor of the movement of skin upon skin.

It was hard to sleep after a kiss like that. Neither of them spoke, and neither of them dared to address the issue, but erections that positively ached plagued them both, while they closed their eyes and tried to relax enough for slumber to overtake their minds. Tomorrow would be a better day, and the week held the promise of a new wand and a Quidditch game. It hadn’t been the best of days, but better ones were coming fast, and if they could feel this way, after a day like this one, then there was still so much to hope for yet.


TBC!!!