Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Thanks to Claudia and Laylee. You are wonderful ladies!!!

Forty Three

Harry felt awful about what he had said to Severus, what he had forced him to agree to do. But he had needed to do that, had needed to extract that promise. He didn’t feel like a teenage boy any longer, he felt as if he were a thousand years old.

If Harry had to die, the only person he trusted to help him do it was Severus, even if it was more than the man thought he could give. He would do it, Harry knew. He trusted Severus completely and knew that he would do the right thing, even if it destroyed him.

He was deeply sorry for what he had had to ask Severus to do, but he had no option. Voldemort had to be destroyed, even if it meant that Harry had to die too. Harry was sure that he would be the one to kill Voldemort and not the other way around; after all, Harry had killed Riddle three times in the past weeks and a number of times in the previous years. But he had to ensure that no part of the evil wizard existed any longer, not even buried deep in Harry’s soul. He just could not take the chance that somehow, someday Voldemort might come back. However, the more time dragged on, the less Harry thought that there was any chance for him to have a life afterwards. Regardless of how much he might long for it. It was meant to be this way Harry thought. He had always been fated to die and his whole life had been lived on borrowed time.

He had given Severus a week, given them all a week, to come up with a solution; something that would enable the small piece of Voldemort’s soul to be extracted, leaving Harry free. But nothing had happened, no-one had any ideas or suggestions that would conceivably work. They simply could not try something on the off chance that Harry would only die temporarily, that they could bring him back. Harry was the only one who could kill Voldemort, he could not die before then.

Harry had finally come to terms with the fact that he had to die. Over the last week he had treasured every moment he spentwith his family, his family! and friends. But it still made him deeply sad to see an increasingly desperate Severus, frantically searching for some other solution. He wanted to speak to his uncle, to say that he was sorry for what he had put Severus through, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t take it back. If he had to die, if Voldemort didn’t kill him, then he wanted it to be Severus. Harry trusted him more than he had ever trusted anyone before. Severus had protected him, to the best of his ability, even when he hadn’t liked Harry very much and he had saved his life on numerous occasions. In the past few weeks, Severus had become the closest thing to a parent that he had ever known, or ever would know, and the fact that Harry had had to upset him hurt.

He spent a lot of time with Draco, too; things seemed easier for his boyfriend now that Draco was no longer a werewolf. Harry didn’t know how he was going to tell Draco what he had planned. He wasn’t sure how he would tell anyone else, for that matter.

But he knew that the rest of them would be fine. He thought Eileen would be a bit upset when Harry died, but Severus would comfort her, and she would stop Severus from despairing, would show him that he had done the right thing. He planned to tell his gran about Severus and Remus. He had been watching them since Draco’s revelation and he now knew that Draco had been right; there was something going between those two. Eileen would sort things out.

Ron and Hermione had each other, and apart from them and Severus and Eileen there really wasn’t anyone else who would miss him, really. Other than Draco, that was. Harry knew that he was being selfish by not telling Draco the truth about his plans, until the very last moment, but he loved him so much and he didn’t want him hurt before it was necessary. Nor did he want to spend the last week of his life arguing with them about something which had to be done. Tonight he would have to tell everyone, Draco, his friends and Eileen that he was planning to fight Voldemort and hope that Draco would be looked after, when Harry didn’t come back from the battle. He hoped that they wouldn’t all be too upset.

Voldemort had not tried to get inside Harry’s head since the Ministry debacle, but Harry could still feel him, on the edge of his consciousness. Tomorrow Harry would search him out. Tomorrow it would end.

He had spent a lot of time alone, in the past few days, making plans in his head about how he would surprise Voldemort. But he also tried to just drink in the atmosphere of Hogwarts, enjoying the crisp autumn days, simply enjoying being alive, flying on his own for hours a day, enjoying the light, the space, the freedom

Harry also spent a lot of time as a lion. It was so peaceful to be like that. He felt safe as a lion, strong. He wanted Severus to take as many samples from his Animagus form as he could, stock-pile them so that when Harry was no longer around he could continue to heal. That struck Harry as a fitting legacy. Even when he was dead, people would still be made well, and Severus strived to help him, to store vial after vial of precious fluid, despite his own very obvious distress. Sadly there was nothing at all that Harry could do to alleviate that, though he wished with all his heart that there was.

He seemed able to sooth the rather strained atmosphere that had developed over the past week though and he did that by purring. The deep vibrating sound became like a soporific to most people, and he couldn’t help himself when he was in lion form, he often purred with pleasure. He loved being a lion; everything seemed so much simpler like that.

And maybe he had learnt more than he realised from Severus, because one day when Hermione told him, after a particularly long period of Animagus transformation, that lions didn’t purr, Harry had simply replied that this one did, because it was a magical lion and kept on purring as he always had.

Lucius Malfoy sought Harry out one morning just to thank him.

Severus, true to his word, had not told anyone exactly what Harry had done to cure Draco; just that it had been because of a unique set of circumstances, that Harry had been able to perform a fluke spell. But he also told everyone that he was working on a vaccine, using samples of Draco’s blood as a base solution. Severus spent every moment that he was not searching for a solution working on the new potion - when he wasn’t driving everyone to search for a key to the Horcrux issue that was! Hermione had been in tears several times that week and even Luna had been perturbed by Severus’ fierce temper. Draco was helping with the potion, seemingly driven to help others who had suffered what he had. Harry spent as much time as he could with his uncle, with or without Draco’s company; he needed to be near Severus, even if his uncle could barely bring himself to look at Harry. He was sad that the atmosphere between them was somewhat strained, but how could it not be, really, after what Harry had asked Severus to do?

Harry had been flying his Firebolt all morning when Lucius found him. He had needed to lose himself for a while because the days were going by too quickly and he had just a few hours left before he went in search of Voldemort. He had decided to go in the small hours, when everyone was asleep, just him, Severus and his invisibility cloak to keep Severus safe and hidden. They would sneak off before anyone was awake and very soon it would all be over and Harry could rest knowing that everyone was safe.

But sometimes, Severus’ sadness and the reactions of the others made him need some space. No one else really knew what had gone on between himself and Severus, anymore than they knew what had really cured Draco. Severus unsurprisingly really could keep a secret, Harry thought. He couldn’t, however, hide that he was upset about something, he could not help being snappy with Harry, and indeed with everyone else. So everyone wondered and gave them both a wide berth.

Harry had been out for more than an hour, flying in wide circles spiralling up and down, chasing eddies and had finally just landed when Lucius found him.

“Harry, I wanted to see you,” he said smoothly. “Do you have time to discuss some things with me?”

Harry looked at him coolly. He thought that Lucius was under no illusions about how Harry felt about him. In the last few days, things had definitely been better between Lucius and Draco. Ever since Draco had been cured, Lucius had looked so much happier. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked less worried, less stressed, and the arguments between father and son seemed to have completely disappeared. Malfoy senior had thanked Harry very formally in front of everyone at dinner the evening after the full moon. But Harry hadn’t known what to say to him in return, he could hardly explain how he had cured Draco.

“I need to change first,” Harry said, “but if you wait till after that, I would have some time.”

Lucius nodded and sat down stiffly on the bench outside the changing room until Harry had showered and changed into his sweatshirt and jeans. Then he sat down beside Draco’s father and waited to hear what he had to say.

“You are going after him aren’t you, Harry?” Lucius said, “You are going to fight the Dark Lord.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked in surprise, “Did Severus say something?”

“No. Severus it seems, has never shared his secrets with me; I just assumed that you were preparing yourself for something like that. Over the last few days you have changed somewhat, become more distant, like you are preparing for battle. I…I do know what that feels like.

I know that I have hurt you in the past; I have been very, very naive. I believed someone who made promises that he had no intention of keeping. I was greedy for power and I really didn’t care who got hurt as long as my goal was fulfilled. I have had a lot of time to ponder my foolishness, my stupidity.

“I find it very hard to meet my son’s eyes these days.” Lucius continued. He was not doing a very good job of looking at Harry either; instead, he was staring at his hands. “He is a much better man than I am, he thrived when he was away from me. He dealt with the Dark Lord, and tried to keep his mother safe. He was very brave about the Lycanthropy, far braver than I was, and he seems to have been a loyal companion to you too.

“He has made me very proud, and I think that I have you to thank for many of the changes in Draco; you and Severus. Severus kept him safe for all the time that the Dark Lord was pursuing him, wanting him dead. But you took him in; you defended them both and gave them a chance.

“I can never repay you for what you have done, but I can thank you and I wanted to tell you that I will help you in any way that I can. I owe you a great deal. I owe you my life, my wife’s safety and the fact that my son is no longer a Lycanthrope. Whatever you need that I can give you, just tell me.”

Harry stared hard at the man, trying to judge his sincerity. He looked so much like Draco in some ways, but very different in others. He had Draco’s silver eyes, his white-blond hair and that rather superior expression that Draco had sometimes. But his face was still drawn, his skin grey. He had spent far too much time in dank, dark places, Harry decided.

He still didn’t like him very much. Harry thought that Lucius Malfoy was a man who had been given far too much, who had taken things very much for granted and who had never had to suffer before. But perhaps he was beginning to change? The things that he had admitted to Harry were things that the old Lucius Malfoy would never have admitted to himself, or anyone else. And Harry had never been someone who could hold a grudge.

He held out his hand, just as he had to Severus all those weeks ago. Malfoy looked shocked, but he took it, he took Harry’s hand firmly in his own and shook it.

“Will you look after Draco for me?” Harry said tightly, “He hates being lonely, he needs to be loved.”

“I will never take my son for granted again, Harry, I promise you that. He is a man who will make his own decisions and I will support him with whatever he needs.”

For a moment they simply sat there, the two of them. Not looking at eachother. Harry felt bone weary, defeated. Lucius sat beside him, his clothing immaculate, his hair groomed. Once upon a time, Harry would have felt shabby in comparison, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore, very little mattered now.

“I have something for you,” Lucius continued, his voice was low, almost as if he did not wish to intrude upon Harry’s thoughts. “Draco found it when you were brought here, he was given the task of packing your things and he found this broken at the bottom of your trunk.” Lucius had taken a package out of the capacious pocket of his robe. He held it out to Harry and Harry took it. “Draco wanted to do something for you and he recognised the crest on the back. Toujour Pur. The Noble and Ancient House of Black. He didn’t know what to do with it, how to fix it. But Narcissa did.

“She had to wait until a waning moon to repair it, but she did it last night. I wanted to bring you something to show my appreciation of all that you have done for us, and Draco gave me this. He told me how much you cared for your godfather. I….I am more sorry than I can ever tell you about my part in his death.”

Lucius had stopped speaking but Harry hardly noticed. He held the package gently, as if it might break again if he even held it too tightly; because of course he knew what it was. How often had he sat up late and cradled this in his hands, still wrapped in an old t-shirt? How often had he wished that he had had this before he had gone rushing off to the Ministry?

Slowly, gently, tentatively, Harry pulled back the brown paper that was wrapped around his prize. He had not looked at it for more than a year. The mirror that he now held in his hands, but here it was, unbroken once more. As whole, as perfect as it had been when Sirius had given it to him.

“Thank you.” He whispered, “Thank you for everything, Mr Malfoy.” Then he stood up, and without looking back, made his way quickly and quietly back to Gryffindor Tower.

His room was empty. There was no trace of Draco and Harry assumed that he must be with his uncle, putting up with Severus’ foul temper, as he was so keen to find the cure for which they were searching.

Harry sat down on his bed and looked sadly at the object in his hands. Almost without knowing what he was doing, Harry lay down and pulled his feet up, curling himself into a foetal ball on the red coverlet.

Suddenly, his memories were awash with Sirius. Recently, Harry had had trouble recalling his godfather, what he’d looked like. He could remember Padfoot, but Sirius’ face was overlaid with someone else. When Harry remembered his godfather he saw Severus instead, but now, with the restored mirror in his hands it was almost as if Sirius were restored too. Image after image assailed him and he held the mirror close against his chest. “Oh, Sirius,” he whispered, “I am so sorry.”

The room was warm and totally still. Nothing moved, not a sound could be heard. Harry had slept so little in the last week, he had lain awake for night after night, thinking, planning, hoping. But now his eyes grew heavy, his breathing grew deeper

Harry dreamed.

He was in a thick mist, just like the one at the graveyard, the one that was full of Dementors. But this was different, it felt safe somehow, as if he were covered by a fluffy blanket, safe.

Then he heard it. A voice, distant, far away muffled, distorted, but discernable; clear enough.

“Harry, Harry. Are you there, Harry?”

Harry started peering into the mist.

“Sirius?”

Was he imagining things? Was the thought of Sirius stirring up memories?

“Sirius?”

The voice was really, really soft now. As if someone had turned the volume down on a TV, one that was playing in another room. Harry had to strain to hear what was said.

“In the mirror, Harry.”

Harry gasped. The mirror was still gripped tightly against his chest, he could feel it in his dream, see it in his hands.

He looked down at it and saw a familiar face smiling up at him.

“Hello, Pup!”

“Sirius, oh my God!” Harry said. His eyes filled with tears, he had to choke back a sob and couldn’t help but sink to his knees in the dream. He brought his hand up and gently ran his finger along the frame

The face that grinned at him seemed younger and healthier than Harry had ever seen it. He was grinning up at Harry and his lips began to move, but Harry heard his voice as if it was in his head.

“You are looking bloody great, Harry!” Sirius said, “All grown up!”

“Oh, Sirius, I am so sorry…”

“Shush, Pup, no time for that now. You have to come to me, Harry, you have to come here.”

“Come where?” Harry asked, “Come to the veil?”

“Yes, Harry, we need to get him out of you. He must be destroyed, come behind the veil.”

There was a wailing, a roaring, like thunder in his head. Harry screamed and sat up with a yelp. His head hurt, his scar was throbbing in a way that it had not done for a very long time. The pain was so severe that he could not see properly, but he grabbed the mirror that he still held tightly to his chest and peered into it as intently as he could. “Sirius?”

All that Harry could see was mist, thick and swirling. Opaque.

“Sirius?”

Something moved, deep in the mist. Harry could not see it properly but it looked for all the world like a huge black dog.

“Severus!!!” Harry yelled. He leapt off the bed, nearly falling in his eagerness to get to his uncle, and still clutching the mirror tightly in one hand, he rushed downstairs to the dungeons.