How to Save a Life

The following morning Harry woke to the sensation of Draco’s fingers raking through his dishevelled locks. Leaning into the touch, sighing contentedly, he smiled, sleepily, up at his boyfriend.

The small movement was enough to cause him to wince at the tenderness that promptly reminded him of the previous night’s activities. He scowled up at the blonde.

“I don’t know what you’re looking so smug about,” he complained. “I didn’t realise it would still hurt today.”

“What did you expect? There’s no pleasure without pain,” Draco replied, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“You don’t exactly look like you’re suffering for it,” the brunette huffed.

“And nor will you be, once you’re used to it.”

“Used to it,” Harry repeated. “I’m not doing that again. It’s bloody sore!”

A horrified expression crept over the blonde’s face. “You-you don’t mean that, do you? I’ll be more gentle next time, I promise.”

Feeling mollified by his boyfriend’s contrition, Harry smiled again. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” He ran his fingertips over Draco’s naked torso. “There’s no way we’re not doing that again. Just not for a day or so, yeah?”

“Git,” Draco accused affectionately. “I was really worried there for a minute.”

Harry’s eyes ran appreciatively over the blonde’s naked form as he climbed out of bed and began searching for the clothes he had shed in such a hurry the night before.

“Where are you rushing off to? I know I said no actual sex today, but there’s plenty of other stuff we could do.” Harry shot Draco his best (and only) seductive look in a bid to lure the blonde back to bed.

Draco smiled fondly at Harry’s antics, finished fastening his trousers, and then sat on the bed at the side of his boyfriend. Harry immediately laid his head in the blonde’s lap, nudging at his hands. Draco chuckled and, taking the hint, resumed his petting of Harry’s hair.

“I don’t want to get up,” he admitted. “But there’s something I have to do today.” His tone was uncertain and, for once, Harry was not oblivious.

“You never said. What is it?”

Draco sighed and his hand stilled. “I’m going to see Professor Snape,” he almost whispered.

Harry was fully awake now and looking at his boyfriend in the wary manner that one normally directed at crazy people.

“Draco,” he began, “Professor Snape is -”

“Dead,” Draco finished for him. “I do know that, Harry. I’m not mad. I’m going to visit his grave.”

“Why?” The question was out before Harry could stop it.

“To lay flowers and pay my respects. All the reasons people usually visit graves,” Draco drawled.

“I know that. What I meant was why are you going to his grave. I know he was your Head of House, but I didn’t realise that you were especially close.”

“He was my Godfather,” Draco stated simply.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” and Harry couldn’t help but wonder why that was.

“Why would you?” Draco asked, as if reading his boyfriend’s thoughts. “You and I weren’t exactly friends up until this year, and he was already dead by then. Plus, it comes dangerously close to the many topics that we pathologically avoid discussing.”

Harry nodded, realising that Draco was right. It seemed ridiculous that they had declared their love, and had sex, yet there were these huge chunks of each other’s lives that they really knew little about.

“We should, you know? Talk about those things.”

“And we will,” Draco reassured him. “Just not now. I want to get going soon.”

“Can I come with you?” It was an impulsive question but as soon as he had said it, Harry knew it was what he wanted. Whatever his history had been with the man, Snape had sacrificed much to aid him in his fight against Voldemort, and Harry felt it was only right that he pay his respects to the man.

Draco looked surprised and relieved at the same time. “Are you sure you want to? You two didn’t exactly get on.”

Harry snorted, “That’s something of an understatement. The man hated the sight of me. But yes, I’m sure. He did a lot of good during the war, things that most of us wouldn’t have been strong enough to do, and he never got the recognition that deserved.”

There was a determined gleam in his eyes as he finished speaking, and Draco knew better than to try and change his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Under the cover of Harry’s invisibility cloak, Draco side-along Apparated them direct into the graveyard at Spinner’s End.

Draco led the way through the worn and untended plots, until he paused in front of a grey marble slab surrounded by neatly manicured grass and fresh flowers. Harry was relieved to find that the grave was so well cared for; he hadn’t thought Snape had anyone in his life that would miss him.

“Mother sends one of our house-elves every week to tend it,” Draco explained, understanding Harry’s expression.

Harry couldn’t help but think guiltily of the unkempt graves of his parents in Godric’s Hollow, and resolved to do something about it, first chance he got.

Draco leant down and placed a beautiful Christmas wreath against the stone. He stood back up and slid his hand into Harry’s.

“He was a good person really. He just didn’t let many people see it.”

Harry nodded. “There was a lot I didn’t know, things I still don’t really understand. But it can’t have been easy, living that kind of double life for so long, and I respect him for that. I just wish I’d had the change to really know him.”

“He was a difficult man to love,” Draco said, with a wry smile.

“But you did,” Harry countered softly, slipping his arm around the blonde’s waist.

“Yes,” Draco whispered. He turned to face Harry, his grey eyes shining with unshed tears. “I hate him sometimes too.” He spoke with a fierceness that startled Harry.

“He let me follow in his footsteps, watched me making the same mistakes that he did, and he never once tried to show me there was another way. After he…after Dumbledore, I couldn’t bear to be around him. I’d been so close that night, and then he’d just said those two little words and it was all over for me, no going back.”

“I know I made my own decisions, but it was all I’d ever known. My father believed in Voldemort, almost worshipped the bastard for some reason. But Severus…well, he knew how wrong it all was, and yet he just watched me follow blindly.”

Thinking he was finished, Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco continued.

“I know what you’re going to say, and you’re probably right. He couldn’t say anything or he would have exposed himself. I know that deep down, just like I know that I would probably have betrayed him to my father if he had. But it’s just; sometimes I get mad because he didn’t choose me. He was my Godfather and he was supposed to love me. But he chose Dumbledore, you, the whole fucking wizarding world, over me. It’s irrational and stupid, but I can’t help how I feel.

The look in Draco’s eyes dared Harry to disagree with him. Harry just pulled the blonde in close, arms tightly round his waist, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“It’s not stupid; it’s perfectly natural to feel like that. Someone you loved and trusted put the ‘greater good’ ahead of your own wellbeing. Even when you know it was the only way, it doesn’t stop it hurting.” There was a bitter tone to Harry’s voice as he finished speaking, but Draco was too wrapped in his own emotions to notice.

Draco snuggled further into Harry’s embrace and, not for the first time, wondered what he had done to deserve such an amazing boyfriend. “I love you,” he murmured against the brunette’s neck.

Harry never tired of hearing those words. He pulled back from the embrace and looked at the blonde, his face full of emotion. “I love you too.”

They held each other close, wrapped up in their own world, completely oblivious to the curious looks of passers-by. Suddenly, Harry felt Draco’s body trembling against him. Thinking that the blonde was crying, he looked down in concern. Harry was relieved to find that what felt like sobbing, was actually Draco giggling merrily to himself over some private joke.

“What?” Harry asked, fascinated by just how changeable his boyfriend’s moods were.

“I was just thinking what Severus would say if he could see the two of us now,” Draco explained, between chuckles.

Harry couldn’t help but crack a grin at this. If he wasn’t already dead, Harry was fairly sure that the sight of his Godson cuddling up to Harry Potter, would probably have killed Snape off anyway.

“I bet,” Draco chuckled,” That if we listen closely, we can probably hear the sound of him turning in his grave.”

“Harry,” Draco said quietly after a time.

“Mhmm?” was Harry’s muffled reply. His face was currently buried in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“I was just wondering…you can say no if you don’t want to…I thought we could…”

“What, Draco?” Harry questioned gently, hearing the nervous tone in the blonde’s voice.

“I just wondered if, when we leave here, you wanted to go and visit your parents. I’d like to meet them.”

Harry had been about to dismiss the idea out of hand, Godric’s Hollow held too many bad memories. But Draco’s last words had melted his resolve. He couldn’t put into words the emotion he felt, choosing instead to convey it with a languid kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Draco gasped as they finally broke apart.

Harry smiled. “Yes, let’s go. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year already since I was there last.”

“You were there last Christmas Eve?” Draco queried, his curiosity piqued.

Harry nodded but made no attempt to explain further. Draco was filled with the urge to ask, but decided it really wasn’t the time.

Again, they Apparated under the invisibility cloak, Harry’s arm tight around Draco’s waist as he took him side-along.

When they had checked the coast was clear, Harry pulled the cloak off them and stowed it safely in his backpack. Taking Draco’s hand, he led the blonde through the graveyard, trying his best to remember the location of his parent’s grave.

“It looks different in the daylight,” he explained as they meandered through the ageing stones.

“Will you tell me about it?” Draco asked softly. “Not right now, but one day, when you’re ready?”

Harry squeezed his hand. “There’s nothing I’m not ready to share with you,” he answered simply. Then he cracked a smile. “If you’re a good boy, I might tell you a bedtime story tonight.”

He got a sharp dig to the ribs, but the warm smile on Draco’s face told him that the blonde was pleased.

When they finally located his parent’s grave, both boys stood silently for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, Harry’s eyes widened in shock as he realised that where there had been previously two headstones, there were now three.

He knelt down and reached out a shaking hand to trace the gold lettering on the black marble of the new addition. He turned wide eyes to Draco and found him smiling back. “Did you do this?”

Draco shook his head. “No, it was Mother,” he explained. “She wanted some way to show her gratitude for all that you’ve done for our family. Aunt Andromeda suggested it; apparently it was something Professor Lupin had been planning to do before…” Draco trailed off, not really wanting to finish that particular sentence.

Harry turned tear-filled eyes back to the headstone that marked the life of his Godfather. The inscription was simple, but it said all that was needed


SIRIUS ‘PADFOOT’ BLACK

1960 - 1996

BELOVED FRIEND AND
GODFATHER

‘MISCHIEF MANAGED’


“I don’t get the last bit, but apparently that was what Lupin had planned. Does it make sense?”

Harry nodded, his heart and mind too full for speech. Draco’s hand slid down and gently pressed his shoulder. “I’ll give you some time alone with them.”

“Thanks,” Harry croaked, his eyes firmly fixed on the black marble.

Draco stepped back a short way, but stayed close enough that he could keep a watchful eye on his boyfriend, ready to lend his support if needed. He could see Harry’s lips moving and hear the murmur of his speech, but was too far away to make out actual words. It was some minutes later, when he saw Harry’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed sobs, that he made his way back to the brunette’s side.

He sank to his knees at Harry’s side, oblivious to the dirt now marking the knees of his expensive trousers. Wrapping his arms around the other boy’s shuddering form, he pulled Harry tightly against his chest.

“Sorry.” The thick folds of Draco’s winter coat muffled Harry’s voice. “I’m being such a girl.”

“I think we both know that you’re definitely no girl,” Draco teased lightly. “They’re your family; it’s ok to miss them.”

“It’s not that really,” Harry sniffed. Draco proudly produced a clean handkerchief and pressed it into his boyfriend’s clammy hand. “What is it then?” he asked gently.

“I do miss them, all of them. It’s just that I don’t remember my parents; I only know what people have told me. But Sirius, he was real, you know? I knew him. He was the first person that made me feel like I really belonged somewhere, like I mattered. He was the family that I never had.” Harry paused for a moment to regain his control.

“I didn’t realise how much it still hurt, losing him,” he continued eventually. “It’s so raw, and this just brings home to me what I’ve lost. I just feel bad that all this grief is for him and yet I’ve barely cried for my mum and dad.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Harry. You said it yourself. Sirius was real for you. With your parents, you never knew them. So while you mourn the loss of what they represent, they weren’t exactly real to you. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so. I miss having parents, but with Sirius, I miss him, not my Godfather.”

“Yes, that’s what I was trying to say. When did you become more eloquent than me?” Draco shook his head in mock disbelief.

“Brat,” Harry said, affectionately.

Both boys clambered to their feet. Draco cast a regretful look down at the state of his clothing. “So what do you think he would have made of us?”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Honestly? I think he would have pitched a fit to begin with. But he would have supported my decision. If for no other reason than to enjoy how much it would have pissed off Snape.”

“I take it he shared the same special bond with Severus that you did?”

“That’s kind of an understatement. They were like you and me, before all this happened.”

“And look how well it turned out for us,” Draco mused. “Maybe it was all repressed sexual tension.”

“Urgh, Draco! That’s vile! I don’t need those kinds of mental images, thank you very much.”

Draco just chuckled, then reached out and brushed the remaining tears off Harry’s cheeks.

“You’re freezing,” he accused.

“Yeah, I am a little. Let’s go home.” With that, Harry slid his cold hand into Draco’s, lacing their fingers together. And Draco marvelled at just how wonderful those last three words sounded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening the two boys were sat, cuddled together, on Draco’s bed. The blond was sat at the head of the bed, propped up against numerous pillows, while Harry nestled between his legs, resting comfortable against Draco’s chest.

“Is it time for my bedtime story now?” Draco wanted to know, as he laced his fingers through the brunette’s.

“That depends,” Harry replied. “Have you been a good boy?”

“You tell me?” Draco responded, wriggling his body suggestively against his boyfriend.

Harry laughed, and raising one of their interlinked hands to his lips, pressed a quick kiss to Draco’s knuckles. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything, anything, whatever you feel comfortable telling me.”

Harry was surprised to realise just how much he did want to tell Draco. This was a part of his life that he had never fully shared with anyone before. He had given shorter, abridged, versions to various people at the end of the war, but he had never before laid bare the full facts and emotions of his experience. But he wanted Draco to know, wanted to share the memories of this vivid and terrifying experience. And Harry realised that this was a sign of just how important the blond had come to be to him.

Draco listened uncomfortably as Harry described the aftermath of Dumbledore’s death, the funeral, his break-up with Ginny, and his return back to the Dursley’s.

The blond found that his respect for Hermione leapt tenfold as he listened to how she had modified her parent’s memories and sent them to Australia for their safety. That wasn’t the action of a reckless Gryffindor. It bore the hallmark cunning of a Slytherin- - they highest praise he could give.

Even the Weasel rose in his estimation after Harry explained how the redhead had insisted on accompanying him on his mission, refusing to be swayed by the obvious risks. Draco was forced, reluctantly, to admit to himself that his boyfriend had made the right choices back in their first year. He doubted very much wither the brunette would have found this level of unquestioning loyalty and sacrifice within Slytherin, or from him as a friend.

As he heard Harry tell of their escape from Death Eaters on Charing Cross Road, Draco couldn’t repress the shudder that ran through his body. He remembered only too well when that had happened, just like he would never forget what he had been forced to do in the aftermath.

It had been the first time that he had successfully cast the Cruciatus Curse, and the first time he had realised how much his father had lied to him. He had felt none of the euphoria, no rush of power, none of the emotions that he had been led to believe came with such an act. In fact, it had been all he could do to swallow down the bile long enough to make it to a bathroom.

Draco was horrified when he realised that Harry had witnessed this, had watching him torture Rowle. And not for the first time, he wondered how the brunette could possibly love someone like him.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he whispered, his lips pressed against Harry’s temple.

“I know,” Harry replied, sliding one hand up to caress Draco’s neck soothingly.

Draco ran a complete gamut of emotions as Harry continued with his story. He tightened his grip on the brunette as he heard how they had retrieved the locket from Umbridge at the Ministry.

“Hideous woman,” he scowled, and Harry refrained from mentioning Draco’s stint on that same woman’s inquisitorial squad.

Something very like a low growl escaped from the blonde’s lips as they got to the part of the trio’s row and Ron’s subsequent departure. Draco was almost relieved to realise he hadn’t been entirely wrong about the Weasel being a complete arse.

Ron’s popularity fluctuated yet again when Harry told the story of how he had found Gryffindor’s sword at the bottom of the pond, and had almost drowned in the process.

“Idiot Gryffindor,” Draco muttered, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly. “I can’t believe that you followed that doe, how could you take risks like that? Anything could have happened.”

“But it didn’t,” Harry gently reminded his agitated boyfriend.

“But still…” Draco protested, truly alarmed by the brunette’s total lack of concern for his personal safety.

Harry placed a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh, rubbing soothingly, hoping to encourage him to relax. But relaxing was the last thing on Draco’s mind. It had just occurred to him that they must be nearing the part of the story that he was dreading, Harry’s capture and subsequent imprisonment at the Manor.

Harry explained how they had been captured, how it had been his fault for saying Voldemort’s name. As he listened to his boyfriend, describe the fear he had felt on being brought to the Manor, Draco just wished he could crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I didn’t want to tell them it was you,” he whispered.

“I know,” Harry soothed. “You did what you could. You weren’t really in a position to do any more. Why didn’t you?” Harry had to ask, it had been something that had bothered him ever since.

“I still hated you then,” Draco began shamefacedly. “But I didn’t want them to kill you. Things had changed by then, I’d changed, and I thought that you were my only hope of getting my life back. I was terrified that if you died, Voldemort would be unstoppable.”

“What changed?” Harry asked, curiously.

“I’ll tell you another time, it’s quite a long story.”

Harry accepted this but made a mental note to ask his boyfriend again before the holidays were over


Draco was riveted by the dramatic telling of the trio’s break-in at Gringotts. He remembered reading the barest outline of the tale in the Prophet at the time, but hearing about it first hand was something else. His admiration for the bravery of all three Gryffindors left him feeling humbled.

As the story neared the end, Harry talked Draco through the run up to the final battle. He tried to gloss over the incident in the Room of Requirement and Pansy’s denouncement of him, not wanting to encourage his boyfriend to feel any more guilty than he knew he already did.


Draco desperately wanted to explain to Harry his actions of that night. His intention had never been to turn the brunette over to Voldemort, just to try and prevent Crabbe and Goyle from killing him, thus providing Harry with the chance to escape. The way Draco saw it, if the boy had managed to escape from the Manor under the noses of his parents, Aunt Bellatrix, and assorted Death Eaters, then escaping from two lumbering idiots should pose no problem.

But as they had proved at the time, capturing Harry was not exactly what the two junior Death Eaters had in mind. Draco could still remember the panicked chill that had run through his veins when he had heard them casting the Killing Curse. And then Crabbe had gone and nearly killed them all when he had set loose the fiendfyre. If Draco was honest with himself, he could date his attraction to Harry back to the moment the Gryffindor had swooped down through the flames and flown him to safety on the back of his broom.

“How can you stand to be around us?” Draco burst out, asking the question that had been troubling him since the start of term. He knew that Gryffindors were noble, but surely after what he and Pansy had done that night, not even the most noble of Gryffindors would be able to forgive.

Harry turned round so he was sat sideways between Draco’s legs, his head resting against the blonde’s chest.

“Because I understand why you were both like that. I’ve got to know who you really are and that’s all that matters to me.” Harry’s tone clearly said that particular topic of conversation was finished.

Both boys had tears in their eyes as Harry told Draco about watching Snape’s memories. He tried to skate over the details of the man’s death, not wanting to distress his boyfriend further. Harry felt his throat tighten and he could barely swallow, just remembering the events of that night left him with an empty feeling deep inside.

He tried to put into words just how he had felt on making that final journey into the forbidden forest. As he got to the part with the ressurection stone, and he described how the spirits of his parents and Sirius had appeared to him, there was a choked sob from Draco, whose arms were now wrapped so tightly around Harry that breathing was becoming an issue.

The blonde thanked God for his Mother as he listened to how she had lied to Voldemort, saving Harry’s life, it was something she had refused to talk about herself. Draco made a silent promise to himself, to thank her in small ways, everyday, for the precious gift she had given to him.

As Harry came to the end of his tale, Draco did not relax his grip. During the final stages, both boys had been left with tear-tracks on their faces. Harry, from the emotion of relieving his past, and Draco, from the terror of realising how close he had come to never having what he had now.

“I know Gryffindors are meant to be brave, Harry. But you are something else.” Draco was truly in admiration of everything the brunette had done.

Harry just shrugged. “I’m not brave, I just didn’t have a choice. I was scared the whole time.”

“But that’s what bravery is all about,” Draco persisted. “You were scared but you did it all anyway. That takes real courage.”

Draco knew that Harry was never very comfortable when it came to accepting compliments or accolades for his actions, so he left it alone.

“Thank you for telling me all that. I know it can’t have been easy for you to relive it all. I never realised just what you all went through, I don’t know what to say.”

Wanting to get off the slightly depressing topic, Harry smiled up at his boyfriend. “Don’t say anything. I can think of much better uses for that pretty mouth of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~