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 50: To Do What Must Be Done


Draco walked through the halls of Hogwarts once again, beside Molly Weasley just as before, only this time with a sense of urgency instead of terrible uncertainty. What was needed of him was clearer now than ever before, and the past day had proven this absolutely.

So much had passed in a simple day. He’d made a careful study of the spells that Dula had brought him, and they had served him cruelly well that very night. In essence, they granted the power to see magical and spiritual auras to wizards who did not possess the innate talent to do so. With these spells, Draco had been imbued with means to view the energy that lingered around people, places and objects, and with the notes that Dula had left him he could assess the meanings of the colors he saw.

He’d cast the spells just before returning to the Burrow, and he’d stepped from the Floo only to be greeted by the riot of colors that represented the magic at place in the Burrow. The wizard photos and mementoes all shone softly with auras of enchantment, and the protective wards on the house were strong and clear to him. The old Weasley clock was a shining beacon of complicated spells, and Draco took it all in slowly, then headed up the stairs for Harry’s room.

Harry had been out at the moment, but his room was still a source of information. The knife he kept handy was still on his desk, sheathed and waiting for action, but Draco saw it far differently now.

Sluggish, blood-red energy coursed around it, and darker colors flickered in and out. Death hung in the air near it. Shadows of pain and violence moved sullenly around its surface. No spirit presence dwelt in the ugly thing though, and Draco had gained knowledge from that alone. He needed to find Harry soon, since he now knew that the knife was not home to Voldemort’s spirit, and that meant that either Harry was tainted by exposure to foul magic, or that Harry himself was a Horcrux. Draco fervently hoped for the former, but apprehension and gut-wrenching fear were already taking root in his heart.

“Welcome home, love. Molly’s got supper almost ready. We’ll eat in a half hour or so…soon as Arthur’s back. I got that letter sent, and as soon as my contacts have an address to owl it to, it’ll be winging its way toward Snape. How’d it go with the twins today?”

Draco started a bit. He hadn’t heard Harry coming up behind him. Draco turned slowly and faced Harry, letting the Sight take in what was to be seen.

Harry’s aura was the most terrifying and powerful thing Draco had ever beheld…and what it told him chilled him to the bone.

Harry stood in the hall, smiling and relaxed, obviously glad to see Draco home. Though hearing Harry call him ’love’ made his heart melt, what Draco saw filled him with atavistic horror. Harry’s aura was unlike any other. Where most were fairly close to the body, Harry’s radiated brilliantly outward, leaping and sparking with flares of energy, to a length of more than three feet. The colors ran riot, melding and whirling one through another. Yellow and gold, soft green and brilliant white were shot through with dark and muddy red, shocking violet, and hideous oily black. The worst was close to his body. A spirit presence was visible, as clear to Draco as the sun in the sky. A smoldering, sickly, pulsating darkness, blood-red and oily black, was grafted onto Harry’s essence, leeching energy and feeding in darkness and hatred. The metaphysical stink of purest evil was overwhelming, and Draco had great difficulty remembering to keep his calm and act as though he’d seen nothing. He’d struggled to sound casual as he answered Harry.

“Uh…good. I’m starved. We had a lot of fun at work…and Dula came by, just to reassure Charlie that I was alright after…after a couple days ago. I thanked him for the dragon tear in my wand. The twins are…pretty nice when it comes down to it. Ella’s sweet too. Can you excuse me, Harry? I just came up hoping to find you and let you know I was back, but I really need the bathroom. It’s good to be home.”

Harry was nonplussed. “Sure. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

Draco had steeled himself, and leaned forward and up, giving Harry a small, chaste kiss on the cheek before backing away toward the bathroom. As soon as the door was safely closed, he’d exhaled and grabbed the counter for support, letting the short panic breaths finally come, and letting his worst fears run free through his mind.

’Oh, fuck! Merlinmerlinmerlin! Shite! He’s it. He’s a fucking Horcrux…and I have no idea how to stop that! Nagini was a Horcrux too, but they killed her to end the enchantment…would they kill Harry if I asked for help? Would anyone know what to do? Voldemort is alive…we’re fucked! Fucked!’

Voldemort was alive, or as alive as he had been when he’d given Harry his scar eighteen years ago…a bodiless and malevolent presence, with no form of its own, but this time Voldemort had a host…and his host was the most powerful wizard in the world. Harry. Draco’s heart had thundered while he absorbed what he’d learned.

Nagini had been a living Horcrux, and Ron and Harry had destroyed that one by killing Nagini outright. What if there was no other way? Was that what it would take to defeat Voldemort now? The need to see Dumbledore had increased exponentially.

The poisonous knowledge in Draco’s mind had spoiled the rest of the evening, and the morning after. He’d had to fight his revulsion just to remain close to Harry, who was sweet and understanding about Draco’s hesitance that night. Harry had assumed that Draco was still having lingering fears about how far they’d gone that past morning, and was still shy and embarrassed about the whole incident. This was all true, but Draco would have given anything to feel that way again and be merely uncomfortable next to Harry, without the awful certainty that the last remnants of the Dark Lord hid beside him in the night.

In the morning, after restlessly awakening several times in his sleep, Draco grudging exercised alongside Harry, and there was no pleasure in it this time. To be truthful, there wasn’t all that much pleasure in it normally, but there wasn’t fear or loathing, and Harry had sensed the soured mood and seemed fretful. Obviously he thought it was something he had said or done, and Draco wasn‘t sure how to undo that impression. It was just unbearable, knowing that the creature who had Marked him, maiming his flesh for life with a brand that made him an outcast, was lurking in Harry’s spirit, twisting a gentle and decent man, a man Draco knew without doubt that he wanted for a lover, into a psychotic killer without remorse. It turned Draco’s stomach to think this, but he couldn’t drive those thoughts away.

Breakfast might as well have been ashes, and he was wan and miserable throughout, at least until he divvied up his pay from the past week at the kitchen table. The look in Molly’s eyes when Draco parceled out coins to Molly and Harry, insisting that, since he was physically well, and working, he should contribute to the house and repay his debt to Harry, was priceless. Only when he pitched a near tantrum did they relent and allow him to pay them, since it was clearly the only thing Draco would accept.

He’d earmarked a quarter of his pay for Molly, and an eighth for Harry until he’d paid the price of his wand and clothes. The rest he meant to save until he could purchase more things for himself, and he hadn’t told Harry yet, but he’d had the notion of slipping a few coins a week into the retirement fund that Harry held for the Weasleys. It seemed the least he could do for people that had given him back a life worth living. Hell, it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was what he was able to do now, and that would have to suffice.

When Molly and Draco had left Hogwarts, his kiss to Harry had been almost reluctant, and it ripped Draco in half to see the discomfort on Harry’s face. It didn’t take a Legilimens to tell that Harry was nervous and sad, afraid that he’d accidentally hurt or upset Draco. He’d promised himself then that he’d try harder to control himself, and keep his own fears under wraps while he kept up a pretense of comfort and happiness for Harry’s sake. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that that thing was inside of him, and he shouldn’t suffer for it. He was already paying the price for saving the wizarding world, and that was more than anyone should have paid.

That was the state of affairs when Draco arrived at Hogwarts, and every step felt like he was marching uphill in boots made of lead. Molly’s steps were brisk and cheerful, and when they reached Madam Pomfrey’s, they parted ways.

Molly gave him a look that could only have been called motherly. “Alright, love. I’ll likely be done quite soon, but I’ll take a cup of tea while I’m here and just keep Poppy company a bit. You do what you must and don‘t worry for the time.”

Draco nodded and assured Molly that he wouldn’t be longer than he had to, but he couldn’t be sure how long it would take to cover all that he needed to discuss. As soon as Molly was sure he was alright, Draco made a beeline for McGonagall’s office, hoping she was in a better mood than last time. Her stern gaze had always made him feel inadequate, and her tone had only been kindly to him the last time he’d seen her.

McGonagall’s office door was open, and she sat before a stack of papers and envelopes. In the chair across from her, fumbling with envelopes and letters, was a man Draco hadn’t seen since his third year at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin. McGonagall looked up when Draco tapped at the edge of the door nervously, and gave a brief smile and waved for Draco to enter.

“Draco. Our former headmaster told me you might be back to see him again. I’m sure you remember Professor Lupin. You look a little better for Molly’s care. Would you like a cup of tea before you see Albus?”

“Hello, Draco. Tonksy told me you were keeping different company these days. She was happy to see you. You know we’ll be dropping by the Burrow when the holidays come around, don’t you? Wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’ll see you there soon. Take a seat…if you’d like?”

The shabby, tired man he remembered from school had changed drastically. Lupin looked healthier, happier, and considerably more alert than he had in school. Apparently marriage agreed with him. Draco still couldn’t believe that anyone related to the Malfoys had actually married a werewolf, but Tonks had always been a law unto herself. At least Professor Lupin loved her, and she certainly loved him. These days, the thought of two people happy together was enough to garner Draco’s instant approval.

“Uh…thank you, but I told Molly I wouldn’t keep her waiting long. I just…I have a lot I need to talk about…with Dumbledore. It’s been…a tough week. I’d just rather talk about it with him. I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t managed to keep the morose tone out of his voice, and he wanted to kick himself for sounding so plaintive. The looks on their faces suggested that they’d read the papers lately, and probably knew full well what was going on between Draco and Harry. Especially if they’d seen page six!

McGonagall nodded agreement. “Very well, Draco. Remus…do lead our young guest to the headmaster’s office. I’ll keep at these blessed letters until you return. Take care, Draco.”

Remus Lupin stood, smiling genially at Draco, and led the way after Draco wished Minerva a good day. Draco hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to the werewolf-turned-professor and just nervously trotted along beside him, hoping for an uncomplicated journey to the headmaster’s office.

“Page six, huh? The press can be fickle, but at least you two looked happy together, eh, Draco? You and Harry make a pretty remarkable couple. Certainly nothing any of the rest of us saw coming!”

So much for hope. Draco’s face was flaming, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Lupin was smirking cheerfully, well aware that Draco was uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t really thinking about cameras at the time. Harry…Harry and I are…complicated, but thank you…for the compliment…I think. If it’s any comfort, I don’t think we saw it coming either. It just…kind of…happened, and here we are.”

The entrance to the headmaster’s office lay before them, and Draco sighed with relief, thankful that he wouldn’t have to discuss what was already a tender subject with Professor Lupin any longer. Draco had enough worries and fears about what was happening between himself and Harry, and he didn’t need someone else’s questions making his tension over these things any worse.

Remus Lupin spoke the password and stone ground against stone as the office opened. “Draco…if I don’t see you before you go home, give Harry my best, will you?”

Draco nodded his assent, and hurried into the privacy of the office, eager to take his seat before Dumbledore. By the time the door ground its way to closed, Draco was already seated next to the headmaster’s desk, staring at the portrait with a look of near despair on his face. Dumbledore was gone! The paint was in place, but the image of the former headmaster was elsewhere. Draco tapped his feet and waited impatiently, praying that Dulmbledore wasn’t off on some extended visit to another frame. He could be anywhere in the castle, and Draco only had a few hours at the most…less if he wanted to avoid unwanted questions.

Draco was on the edge of panic when the image of the old wizard finally strolled back into his frame and smiled at him.

“Draco, my boy! Good to see you again! You look better than you did the last time we met…Molly Weasley’s cooking must agree with you. I can only trust that you’ve come with questions…let us see what I might be able help you with, shall we?”

Draco sighed expansively, then took a deep breath. There was more to cover than he could possibly have expected.

“What don’t I need help with? That’s an easier question. Everything…everything is screwed up, professor. I may have finally gotten my wand…thanks to Fawkes and Harry, but there are a hundred things going wrong at the same time and I can barely handle it. I found a way to read Harry’s aura, and…and…Voldemort is alive. You were right all along…and he’s tied to Harry. I saw it in the aura…a dark, black and red shadow, draining energy from Harry, and leaking pure evil into his aura.

Harry killed someone again. Just a few days ago. Right in St. Mungo’s. The man he killed…hurt me…and Ron Weasley beat the guy half to death for it, but Harry broke into St. Mungo’s and killed him with advanced Legilimency. Ron almost got blamed for it. Harry promised me he wouldn’t kill anymore…and this man wasn’t even a Death Eater. I’m…I’m scared, sir. I don’t think Harry can help what he’s doing. I know he means it when he says he’ll try not to lose his temper, but he couldn’t keep his promise, and I don’t think he’s able to anymore.

When he’s angry, the air around him feels hot…almost alive. He argues with Kingsley Shacklebolt all the time, but the last time they argued, I interrupted them…because Harry was trying to use Legilimency to influence the Minister’s mind. I stopped him from doing it, but he was furious. It’s hard to believe he’s the same person when he’s that angry.

He’s so powerful…I don’t know how anyone could stop him. He can Apparate through wards, and with Legilimency, he can control people’s minds. What if I can’t help him? How could anyone control him? If he’s a living Horcrux like Nagini was, and Nagini was destroyed by killing her, how can we even hope to get Voldemort out of Harry safely? It’s too much. You can’t ask me to be a part of something like that. I can’t do it. Because…because…”

Dumbledore finally interrupted as Draco’s voice trailed off miserably. The portrait’s voice was wistful and quiet.

“Because you love him…don’t you?”

Draco nodded quietly, biting his lip and trying to maintain his composure.

“Yeah. I do. When…when he’s normal…when he’s just Harry…he’s so kind, and gentle, and wonderful. No one ever made me feel like this before. I’ve never wanted anyone this way. I didn’t even think I could…and then I was at the Weasleys’, and Harry was there, and he was taking care of me. It’s been less than a month, and I’m not sure I could ever be happy without him. You can’t imagine how much he cares about me…what he did for me.

He studied for the last couple weeks, trying to find ways to help me cope…with the things I…I remember. To help me sleep without waking up screaming. We used some stop-gap measures for awhile, but he never stopped looking for a way to help me feel better from day to day. I…I can sleep…most of the night through, but my dreams are awful. I think I’ve gotten used to it. I get shaky sometimes, when I remember…certain things. Worst…I…I hate being touched by people. Or even just being surrounded by them. It’s like I can’t breathe, and I’m waiting for them to hurt me, and I want to start screaming or just run until I’m alone.

He found a way. Harry found a way he could help me. He was so proud. He was going to use Legilimency and Occlumency to build shields around my memories…but…I couldn’t let him in my mind. I told him…I told him it was because I didn’t want him to see the things I’ve done…the things I had to do just to stay alive…and I wasn’t lying. I didn’t tell him everything, though. I couldn’t let him see what you told me, or what I know, or what you said I might have to do. I hate this. I hate it! He’s trying so hard to help me…and I have to tell him no…and now we’re trying to contact Professor Snape, because he might be able to do this for me…if he doesn’t burn the letter on sight. I don‘t know how much more of this I can take!”

Draco broke down completely, burying his face in his hands, while Dumbledore’s image lowered its head respectfully, looking surprisingly burdened for an image spelled into canvas and paint. Albus spoke softly, and Draco pulled his head up and listened, red-eyed and sniffling.

“Draco. Draco…I’m sorry. Perhaps too much of this is hanging on you. If I could take some of this from you, I would, but alas…I cannot. I feared that Voldemort had cheated death again the moment you told me of Harry’s erratic behavior, and the knowledge that he is indeed a Horcrux is terrible news, but I am telling you that all is not lost.

I can tell you a few things…now that we have made certain of Harry’s predicament. It is not necessary to take Harry’s life to destroy Voldemort once and for all. I told you that love is the power Harry holds…the power the Dark Lord could not stand against, and love can still set Harry free, as well as banishing Lord Voldemort forever from this world.

The spirit of Tom Riddle is not truly dead and cannot be exorcised like some petty ghostling. He is bound to Harry in blood and spirit. Much of Harry’s uncommon power comes from the second spirit that dwells within him, waiting to rise again. It is clear that Voldemort and his enormous power have combined with Harry’s own, and Harry is at war inside himself, locked in a silent struggle that none can see. The heat you feel from his anger is feedback…when his true nature and Voldemort’s rage clash, you can feel it near him. It isn’t true heat…and cannot burn, but that is how your mind registers such a thing.

To cast Voldemort out, Harry himself must forgive him. He must abandon all hatred, all anger, and confront Voldemort with love. This he must do in his own mind and soul, and only he can make this happen. I am certain that Voldemort engineered the deaths of those close to Harry, through his minions, solely with the intent of ensuring that, when he did face Harry, there would be no love left in Harry’s heart, and his prophesied defeat could not take place. He used Harry’s rage and the violence of his own death to catapult himself into Harry’s soul, escaping death once again. It is essential that, when Harry confronts what dwells within him, that he act out of love. Harry must reject Voldemort entirely, and do so with no trace of rancor in his heart. Without anger, fear or hatred to cling to, the Dark Lord will be without a means to remain in this world and he will be forced out, at last to face his final judgment in the hereafter.

All is not lost, Draco. Because, if Harry can love, as he loves the Weasleys, as he loves you, then his capacity for good, for kindness and decency, is still intact, despite Voldemort’s efforts.

There is more I must impart to you. I willed to Harry an artifact of surpassing power. I did not know then that he would abuse it someday. The boy I knew would never have exploited the thing I gave him. It is a silver amulet, etched with ancient runes. We have no true name for it, but it has been called the Dampener. It is so named for its power to make a wizard or witch invisible to wards, and untraceable by spell. I carried it for decades, using it only when needed most, and I have told only two others of its existence. Minerva McGonagall and Harry…and now you. If Harry cannot be brought to reason, the loss of that amulet will greatly even the odds for those who would seek to capture him. If it must be, then steal the amulet from him and return it to Professor McGonagall. I have the highest confidence that this may not be necessary though.

I do believe in you, Draco. I know that this weighs heavily upon you, and it grieves me that you carry so much sorrow in you, but for Harry’s sake, and perhaps even our world’s…you must go on. You have the strength in you. The instant you stumbled upon the knowledge of Horcruxes, you joined a cursed few…those of us who know of their power, and are bound to see them forgotten by others for all time. I would give much to take that burden from you, or to undertake this myself, but I cannot. It must be you.

You have it in you to foster love in Harry’s heart, and this will be Voldemort’s undoing. You are already making Harry an inhospitable environment for the Dark Lord. I suspect that Harry’s drifting temper may be Voldemort’s subtle attempt to exert control and push back the love he senses taking root in Harry. You are already doing more than any other could, and doing it well. As for help…I think you shall find what you seek upon my old bookshelf. The Potions manual at the top. Fetch it and turn to page three-hundred and twenty-six.”

Draco had listened in awe until this point, alternately confused, frightened and elated. He rose and headed for the bookshelf. Did Dumbledore know a potion that could salve his mind and clear his dreams of terrible memories? Was there something safer and better than the Potion Of Dreamless Sleep?

Draco opened the textbook and flipped pages until he reached the correct one. It was a description of the interaction between powdered moonstone and aconite, when stirred counterclockwise by… Draco’s eyes fixed on the slip of parchment folded at the bottom of the page. In familiar script, a simple address was listed…in German. Professor Snape was in Stuttgart, and this was his home. With this, Draco could reach him by Floo or owl before the weekend was over, provided he had the privacy to do so.

Draco turned back to the portrait and desk. “Thank you…but do you think he’ll come?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Draco…I assure you that Severus has been my friend for many years, and I know him as few others could. He will not shower you with kindness, but his aid won’t be as difficult to enlist as you might think. For all that Severus carries a long grudge, he is far from without heart, and he has a sterner sense of responsibility than many another man. If you make certain that he knows what lies at stake…I promise you that he will do what must be done.”

Hope was flickering back to life in Draco’s chest. He couldn’t defeat Voldemort himself…that was Harry’s task, but he could make Voldemort’s goal of conquering Harry all the harder, just by loving Harry, and coaxing Harry into loving him. The more love Harry felt in his heart, the less influence Voldemort would hold over him. He could reach Snape almost immediately, and once he was treated, he could share things with Harry he’d only dreamed of before.

Dumbledore interrupted Draco’s stunned musings.

“Hmm. Two o’ clock. As it happens, I know that Severus is always home on Saturdays at this hour. If an enterprising fellow wished to see him…well…there is a fireplace in the next room…”

Draco felt his heart start pounding. It was worth it. Facing Snape would be worth it…if he could be set free from the worst of his memories. Harry needed Draco’s help, and soon, and the biggest obstacle in Draco’s path was his own inability to cope with intimacy. He was just a Firecall away. Snape could come to the Burrow, ward Draco’s mind and memories, and Draco would be free to concentrate on Harry. He just had to steel his nerves and do it.

He took the slip of parchment with him as he marched to the fireplace in the other room, and Dumbledore’s portrait gave a somber nod of proud approval as he left. Draco clutched a bit of Floo powder, uttered the destination, and poked his head into the green and flickering flames.

In Stuttgart, seated in a comfortable chair and engrossed by a historical study on classical potion-making through the ages, Severus Snape flicked his eyes away from his book and cup of tea, and gazed into the rising green flames, then closed his eyes and looked to the ceiling, as if to accuse the heavens for the face he saw in the Floo.

’Damn! I knew…I just knew I should have put a proper ocean between Hogwarts and myself.’

TBC!!!