Change Comes From Words

All previous disclaimers apply.

Author’s note: I just wanted to express a quick thank you to Anon for reviewing so often. You keep me encouraged, Anon. Thanks.
One last thing, I really didn’t know how to put the whole horocrux idea into this fic since Harry wants to be as close to Ron as often as possible, so I just decided to practice selective memory and pretend that it never happened in the books. So, for the purpose of this fic, as I’m sure you’ve probably figured out, Dumbledore was still killed, but Harry, Ron, and Hermoine are not going to go looking for horocruxes. Harry just has to eventually kill Voldemort.


“We’re so close, Ron,” Harry whispered to the still form of the man he loved in the hospital bed. He took Ron’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek gently. He wanted so badly to feel Ron do it himself, that the need was almost palpable. He satisfied himself with laying next to Ron on the bed, laying his head on his shoulder, and wrapping an arm around his waist. How could he have ever thought even for the slightest moment that the love he felt for Ron was the same type of love that he felt for Hermoine? The love he felt for Hermoine was a glow, an “I’d do anything to protect you” feel, a love that never hurt, but always encouraged. The love he felt for Ron, the love he had always felt for Ron he admitted silently to himself, was a concentrated beam of light that shot straight into his heart. It filled him up and left him trembling at the least expected moments. It was an “I’d die without you,” kind of love. It often hurt, but it was just so much more than he had ever expected that the hurt was far outweighed by the joy that it brought him. It was the type of love he might have shared with Cedric had he lived.

Cedric. There was always a little tugging at his heart whenever he thought of Cedric and he hoped it would never go away. Cedric had been the first person Harry had ever shared his heart with. The first one he’d ever opened up to. Cedric had been a kind and patient teacher when showing him the different ways men could show their love for each other. Cedric had taken his virginity. Two nights after the task in the lake, Cedric had allowed Harry to make love to him. Harry hadn’t been able to help himself when it came to Cedric. He’d always questioned why he felt more attracted to the other boys in his dorm than to any of the girls in his year, but he’d thought it just a stage. Cedric had shown him that it wasn’t just a stage and that it was perfectly natural to love another man in such a way. When Cedric had whispered to him, as they lay quietly together out in the space they had made for themselves in the Shrieking Shack, that he loved him the night before the final task, Harry had believed it. And thought he meant it when he whispered the same words back. He knew, as they made love by candlelight, that they would have to hide it, as they had through most of the year, at least until he was out of school, but just the fact that Cedric loved him was enough to make the thought bearable.

Then, Cedric had been taken away in the most violent way possible. Harry had finally realized that what he had whispered to Cedric the night before had been the truth, because now his heart was breaking. Cho had thought that she was heartbroken over Cedric. He’d never even kissed her. There were many nights that Harry had lain in his bed, sobbing quietly into his pillow, wishing that Cedric was lying next to him, holding him while they whispered about their hopes and their dreams, the pain what was expected of them had put them both through, and what they thought they’d do after Harry graduated from Hogworts. For nearly a year Harry had walked around in a fog, though none of his friends saw it, just waiting for death to come to him. But, one day, about three quarters of the way into fifth year something remarkable had happened. Ron had opened the curtains to Harry’s bed, handed him his glasses, told him it was time to get up, and smiled.

And Harry had fallen in love with him.

Completely and totally in love. With Cedric it had been a steady building. With Ron it was all there at one time, taking his breath away so thoroughly that Ron had asked him if he was okay. Harry hadn’t known what to do. Ron was circling around Hermoine and he was supposed to still be head over heels for Cho. So, he just let it go. For a little bit it had seemed to dim until he was back in the steady glow of friendship with Ron and everything was how it had always been. Eventually Harry had been able to convince himself that it had never happened. That the feeling was the remains of a dream, probably about Cedric. But, the feeling had come back at the most unexpected times. When he had been comforting Ron at both Percy and Ginny’s funerals, when they had found each other perfectly safe after their first true battle, when Ron had been the first to accept that the one who had once been one of their enemies would turn to their side as soon as he’d been able to find them without being caught by any of his fellow Death Eaters. Every time, Harry was able to find some reason that what he felt was just the result of something else and that it would never come back again once it had faded into friendship again.

But, then the last time, when Harry had found Ron lying on the ground in so much pain, it had come back full force. And it was still as bright as ever now that Ron’s letter had made Harry admit his own feelings. He loved Ron with all his heart. And it might be selfish, as Ron had mentioned in his letter, but Harry now thought that defeating Voldemort would have to come second. He would worry about Voldemort once Ron opened his eyes as Harry was able to tell him that he loved him. It was the way it had to be. What kind of world were they trying to save if war came before love.

“War should never come before love,” Molly had told him after he had shown Ron’s letter to his parents and admitted to them that he truly did love him in return, almost three months prior. Since that time, there had been more battle, more losses, but they were gaining ground. Now all Harry had to do was find Voldemort. He wanted everything to be over, “Long after all the wars of the planet are done love will endure. It is the only thing that endures. Somehow I think, Harry, that your love might be more powerful and mean more to the war than you think. And I can’t tell you how much joy it brings me to know that it is directed at our Ron. If anyone can bring him back, it will be you. The one he loves.” Arthur had been overwhelmed, but he’d smiled and nodded in agreement, letting Harry know that he understood and accepted the love that would be shared between his youngest son and the young man who stood before him, the same one he had been thinking of as his son for years as well, when his son woke.

For the three months since he had been given the letter, the love Harry felt for Ron had only grown. He still visited Ron as often as he could, but now he laid in the bed with him, spoke quietly, gently, of how much he loved him. He never said anything about the battles, but chose only hopeful topics to relate to Ron instead. He spoke to him about everything and nothing, but now his voice was gentle. He told him about Cedric, laid next to him, held his hand, kissed his forehead, his cheek, his palm, all things to simply let the still young man know he was loved and that when he woke up Harry would be there and they could start their lives together.

“We’re so close. I can feel it. You-know-who has been working as hard as he can among Voldemort’s forces to try to find out who cast the spell on you and what spell they cast. He’s got it narrowed down to only four people. Soon, Ron. I’m going to find out what was done to you, and then I’m going to bring you back to me. There’s so much we still have to share, so much life ahead of us. Do you know what I want to do after this war is over? I want to marry you. I want you to have my name and me to have yours. Then, maybe, children. I’m sure there will be plenty of war orphans. We can give as many as you want a good home. I just hope you want a lot, because I want us to have a big house that’s always full of love and laughter, and fights, and slamming doors. And every night when all of the kids are settled down, I want to take you back to a room we call ours and make love with you until neither of us can move. Except on nights when there are thunderstorms. Because on nights when there are thunderstorms I want to look into your eyes over the heads of our babies who are scared by the storm and ask to sleep in our bed and know that that moment in time, right there, is where we belong. And then, one day when all the kids are gone and we’ve seen our grand babies and our great grand babies, I want to hold you close as we both say goodnight and close our eyes to the world together. That’s what I want. Because I love you, Ron Weasley. So much. And soon, I’m going to find out what I have to do to bring you back to me.”

“Hopefully sooner than you think,” a rasping voice brought Harry out of his quiet admittance. He turned to the doorway to see their Death Eater ally, leaning heavily against the frame, grasping his side, blood matting his light hair and flowing down his face, into one of his gray eyes.

“Draco?” Harry sat up in the bed, then jumped to his feet, when his friend groaned and slipped down the wall until he was sitting. Harry ran to him, calling out for a mediwitch, and knelt next to him, placing his own hand over the large wound that Draco had been covering.

“Don’t worry about me,” Draco used his free hand and gripped Harry’s robe against the pain, managing a half smile, “I’ll be fine. I’m not going to tell you that it doesn’t hurt, because it hurts like hell, but it won’t kill me.”

“What happened?”

“I found out who did it, Harry. I found out. Then, I was found out. They took me to Voldemort himself for punishment. He said that if I was willing to ally myself with mudbloods and blood traitors and muggles, then I may as well die like a muggle. But, none of them have ever beat a man to death before. So, when I stopped moving, they thought that was it. They didn’t even check my pulse, stupid blighters. I waited until they were all gone. That wasn’t three miles from here, Harry, but they would have moved on by now. I’m sorry.”

“No, Draco,” Harry smiled at him warmly, “Don’t be sorry. We shouldn’t have asked so much of you for so long. You’ve done all you can.”

Draco Malfoy had been one person that Harry had never expected to ally himself with, especially after what had happened at the end of their sixth year. But, truly, Draco had never been an evil person. Deep inside he was really just confused, torn between love for his father and what he knew was right. When Voldemort had let his father die in Azkaban after a failed attempt to break some of his more loyal followers out, Draco had finally seen Voldemort and his actions for what they were. Evil. But, he could not risk leaving the death eaters for fear of his mother’s safety. He had proven first to Ron that he had no loyalty to Voldemort when they had been lost in underground caves during a three day battle and fought to keep each other alive. Then, he had given Ron information about attacks being planned, Death Eater induction ceremonies, and the like. Every battle he found one of them and gave them more information until they had worked out a small spell with mirrors and calm surfaces that allowed him to communicate with any of them at any given time. At first they had been wary of his loyalty, but he’d proved it to them when he had never asked for any of their plans. He had just given them information. Soon, he was a full-fledged member of the Order. They saw him once every three or four months when he could get out and worried for him every day.

Slowly, they had all come to know the Draco that had been hidden all of his life under the expectations of his father, the fear that had been so much a part of his upbringing. They had all come to know the Draco who loved to read poetry by firelight, who hurt when he saw small animals injured, who was so unsure of himself that even venturing an opinion made him feel sick. This was the Draco they had all come to know and love. This was the Draco Molly and Arthur had taken as their own after Draco’s mother had committed suicide. This was the Draco that Charlie Weasley had fallen in love with. It had not come as a surprise to anyone but Draco when, the last time Draco had been able to sneak away for two days, pretending that he was going to see to the affairs of his household, Charlie had asked Draco to marry him. Charlie had been nervous and unsteady in his anticipation. He had been Draco’s lover despite his own foolish reservations about their age differences for almost all of the war and he loved him desperately. Draco had been sweet in his surprise and disbelief of the question. He loved Charlie desperately, but he had never thought Charlie would want to marry him. He didn’t think he deserved it. Charlie had kissed him until he couldn’t think anymore and asked him again. Harry could see the engagement ring hanging from the chain around Draco’s neck. Two days, he remembered, just two days from now Draco was supposed to come to them again and the two lovers would be married in secret with all their friends and family surrounding them.

“Harry,” Draco gasped and arched off the wall in pain.

“Where is that mediwitch?” Harry screamed, knowing Draco was hurt much worse than he was letting on.

“Harry,” Draco repeated, coughing. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and when he pulled it away Harry saw blood on it, “Harry, it was Voldemort. Voldemort cast the spell. He told me himself. He has this theory that if Ron’s gone and Hermoine’s gone you’re nothing. But, he doesn’t want them dead. He knows that you’d blame yourself, get sloppy in your fighting. He’s getting desperate, Harry. He’ll do anything. Keep her safe, Harry. Keep her away from him. I’m sorry, he didn’t tell me how to break the spell. Harry?”

“Yeah, Draco?”

“Kill him. Kill him and set us all free, yeah?”

“Yeah, Draco. I will.”

“I would have liked to have seen Charlie one last time. Tell him I love him . . .” Draco’s eyes unfocused slowly, the hand gripping Harry’s robe went lax, and he went limp. Before Harry had a chance to shout again there were four mediwitches and wizards hovering around. Before he knew it, Draco was on a stretcher being rushed down the hall and Harry was kneeling alone.

He bowed his head. Draco hadn’t been dead when he’d been rushed away. Just unconscious. And if the people of Saint Mungo’s did their jobs right he wouldn’t die, but still. Harry felt a burning anger in his heart that he had never felt before. It was not hatred. He was thinking much too clearly for it to be hatred. No, it was something else entirely. It was angry resolve. With everything that had happened, he felt like he was finally ready. One way or another. Tonight would be it. Tonight would end everything. Harry would see to it. He stood, his head still bowed and gripped his wand until he knuckles were white. In his mind’s eye he watched everyone he knew pass. All smiling, as they had in better times. They would smile that way again. Then, all those who had died in the war, his parents, Cedric. They all nodded to him as if they understood. Then Ron, simply smiling. And Harry knew he was ready. He knew what he had to do. When he lifted his head, his eyes were hard, cold, and the most stunning green ever seen. It was time.

Everyone moved out of his way as he slowly and resolutely walked toward the door. His destiny was just on the other side. It was time he faced it. The doors flew open as he came to them and he stood, looking out at the street, where Voldemort stood, alone, waiting.

“Are you ready for this, Harry Potter?” he questioned.

Harry looked at him, sneered, “Are you?”


Author’s note: I know that I said that this chapter would involve a quest. I didn’t intend for it to turn out this way, but I’m very satisfied with it. This is not going to be a hugely long fic. Just three more chapters and an epilogue, the way I have it planned. We’ll see if that actually happens or not. Until next time, thanks to those who review and I hope you like it.