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 56: Draco Makes A Move


Draco remained abed for well over thirty hours, only waking near the twentieth. It was less waking, and more becoming cognizant of an agony that was centered on his skull and refused to do anything but grow. He was aware of a potion being poured down his throat, and the footsteps and murmured words of others might as well have been cannons going off next to his head. Mostly, he just whimpered into the pillows, tears leaking out of the corners of eyes that were screwed shut to keep out the light that threatened to stab his brain.

He could tell Harry was there. It wasn’t just his occasional words to others. It was his presence. It wasn’t possible to answer anyone yet. Words required thought, and thought equaled bright and blinding pain. The pain crested at a high plateau, bringing dry heaves along for the show. Empty-stomached, nothing emerged but spit and thin strings of bile, but the process exacerbated the headache greatly. Time eventually lost meaning, a final echo of what he’d felt like when he’d been in the clutches of his uncle and the others. There was a place that one reached, when pain was simply so great that the body couldn’t register more, and Draco found that place again, having been free from it for only a couple of months.

Later that evening, and more than half a dozen potions later, Draco was only barely able to speak, and he was just coherent enough to reach for Harry’s hand while mumbling his name over and again. As soon as that hand was in his, Draco passed out in a blurry haze of pain again, and slept some more. Severus Snape continued to reassure Molly, Arthur and Harry that this was to be expected, and that, in essence, Draco’s mind was actually bruised, and since it was bruised magically, it would only heal with time. This was not especially comforting, but it was true. At least he was able to ascertain that the wards around Draco’s memories had held up so far, and looked solid enough to last.

Severus spent most of his time working on relieving his own headache and reading the books he’d brought along for his stay. After his own lengthy nap, he thoroughly inspected the wards he’d placed in Draco’s mind, then breakfasted with a full and proper meal, and returned to his room. He left complete instructions, in excruciatingly exact detail, on how to tend to Draco, and thus there was no need for his continual attendance. All for the better, in Severus’ opinion, since Harry was constantly beside Draco’s bed, and he had no overwhelming desire to spend every hour in Potter’s company, no matter how passing well they got on the last day or so.

The Weasley household held its collective breath, waiting for Draco’s recovery, and the boredom and routine was only interrupted by an owl from Ron, carrying word that his agent had found him a few small offers for work. It was happy news of a sort, but apparently there were no significant professional teams looking for a Beater that had been sacked during his first full season. The offers mostly consisted of lower paying positions as an assistant trainer or second string player for teams with poor prospects. It seemed obvious that they wanted a decorated war hero’s name among their ranks, but could only afford to place offers because his reputation had been so badly tarnished.

Aside from that disappointment, Ron was getting on fairly well, and would be closing out the flat he’d been letting at the end of the year, which was just a few weeks away. He seemed to be taking the whole situation with uncommonly good cheer, and that was a relief to Harry and Molly, who had both privately feared that Ron would turn to the bottle if his life hit a rough patch…which it had certainly done. Against all odds, Ron’s letter was full of nonchalant confidence and calm resignation. He wasn’t yet sure if he’d take one of the offers or try something else, but at least he seemed resolute and comfortable with his lot in life, and that was better than most folks.

Draco finally came to full consciousness fairly late in the evening. His head felt like it had been swollen to twice its natural size, packed with cotton, and hammered like cheap iron. It was almost impossible to keep his vision from blurring, and he was fairly sure he wouldn’t stand up until the next day, but he was awake…and he was holding Harry’s hand. Things only got better from there.

Molly had liquids at the ready, and simple foods came shortly after. Potions kept the worst of the headache fading slowly, but it looked like Draco wouldn’t accomplish anything more significant than a journey to the bathroom until Sunday. The only thing that made this journey unique was the help he was able to receive along the way. This time, Harry slipped Draco’s arm over his shoulders and nearly carried him, since Draco’s legs were unsteady, and his vision still tended to blur from pain. Harry took his post at the chair by the bed, relinquishing it only when Molly insisted that he too should eat. Harry gobbled his food down without tasting it, and returned promptly to the upstairs room where Draco lingered.

Sunday morning stretched into Sunday afternoon, and although Severus had grimly predicted a potentially worse scenario, Draco was in a hurry to start a new life, already silently probing the inside of his sore and throbbing mind. It was strange and eerie, feeling the presence of something that clearly did not belong in his skull, but made such a profound difference. He’d first noticed it when Harry had helped him to the bathroom. His mind had been full of urgency for the toilet, and Harry had been immediate help. Draco was halfway down the hall before it occurred to him that he was being held up almost entirely by Harry without so much as a shudder of distaste, but he was in no shape to properly enjoy their closeness at the time.

Others praised his eagerness and speed of recovery, but Draco had his own private thoughts on that. Unspoken was the knowledge that, having known pain like unto this before, he was better able to cope with it, and could function even while his skull was pounding like it was made of gold and a goblin tribe had moved in with hammers and pickaxes. Whatever the source of his ability to get moving quickly, it was all for the better, and the Weasley household celebrated quietly, becoming a place of cheery smiles.

Sunday evening found Snape inspecting his work carefully. Draco was fully awake this time, and that made a small difference. Snape was as taciturn as normal, and occasionally grunted noncommittally, which told Harry and Draco nothing. Both of the boys were on the edge of screaming before Snape stepped back with an expression of bored disinterest.

“It will hold. Likely for years, but there can be no guarantees. This is the first time such wards have ever been used so comprehensively. In a few days, all you’ll feel is a slight ’tightness’ about your head, and that will be that. I’d say that by the end of the week, you won’t feel any more discomfort.”

With that simple statement, Snape picked up his potion bottles from the nightstand and headed for his room, leaving behind a few doses for Draco. Draco looked perfectly content, but Harry rankled.

“That’s it? You’re leaving? Nothing else to say?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t been a professor for some time, but insolence was no less annoying than it had been before.

“Essentially, yes, Potter. The work is finished. I have a few things to pack, and then I will be leaving. I assumed that this would fill your heart with boundless joy. I must have been mistaken. This aside, I have a home that hasn’t seen tending to in more than a year, and to be vaguely indelicate, we both know why. It will take days before I can properly settle back in, and there will be many a correspondence I must take up, not the least of which pertaining to employment…unless you think I can subsist on air and sunshine. Let me assure you, photosynthesis does not sustain life for human beings. Draco? Is there something more that you require?”

Draco had rather expected the absence of emotion. He knew his former head of house reasonably well, and Snape’s distance from other people was always carefully maintained. He shook his head ‘no’ and gave a look to Harry that silently implored patience. Harry took the hint, and grudgingly let it drop.

“Fine. Thank you for coming. Goodbye.”

Harry’s tone was flat and as void of emotion as he could manage to make it, and Snape sniffed before arching an eyebrow and leaving the room to pack. Draco scolded Harry mildly as soon as they heard the door to Snape’s room close.

“You were his student for six years. You know what he’s like. Why expect something different? Besides, I’m fine, and if you think this is good, give me a couple days and you won’t know what hit you.”

Draco’s smirk spoke volumes, but the vaguely impudent and predatory look he gave Harry spoke libraries. Admittedly, it was nervously and yet artfully feigned, and not a minute ago, Harry’s attention had been completely absorbed by his irritation with Severus Snape. Now certain other things came to Harry’s mind. A universe of possibilities spiraled into existence, and Draco was the sun at the center of them. A Draco that wasn’t crippled by terror, or repulsed by touch, was a sudden and pulse-pounding reality.

The room was suddenly a lot hotter than Harry remembered. Very odd, given that it was December in England.

Draco privately rejoiced at the sight of Harry flummoxed and stammering. He might have sounded more confident than he actually was, but he’d reduced Harry Potter to jelly with a few words and a look. His head hurt too much to push the issue any further, and he stretched back and sighed with comfort, making a little show of planning to take a little more rest while his headache was fading. Harry took the cue and ran with it.

‘I…uh…I need a cuppa. I’ll be downstairs, ‘kay?”

Draco nodded softly, still a bit stiff from the tension the headache caused. Harry was down the hall and gone five seconds later. Draco quietly tested the limits of his memory. Even though his mind was genuinely sore, he couldn’t resist the urge to test the work Severus had done. He reached for memories he’d tried to hide from before, wrinkling his brow with discomfort when the pain increased.

Dinner with Rodolphus and the others. It was there, but it was filmy and distorted. It was like staring through a long tunnel…or a telescope. Draco relaxed and let go of the memory when he reached the moment he’d been drugged, and the memory slid away like a fish, returning to the murky depths of yesterday.

He felt very odd. Ever since the headache had receded just enough to allow him comfort and speech, something had been weird and off. It was vaguely frightening, and yet enthralling at the same time. The pace of his heart seemed faster, and a smile was threatening to break out at any minute.

Draco was happy. Not the happiness he’d known before, undercut by a nagging and constant flow of reminders from his past, but genuinely, wonderfully, dizzyingly happy, and he didn’t need a reason to feel that way.

Draco sat up and got out of bed, grunting softly when the motion made his vision swim. He took his wand from the nightstand and spelled the bed and sheets back to order. He didn’t have much in the way of possessions, but now that he was well he had a plan for the ones he had.

Severus Snape was carrying his bags and stopped at the doorway to Draco’s room. Draco was in the middle of a Cleaning Charm that executed perfectly, polishing every surface and removing dust from every surface and corner. Draco turned nervously to face his former mentor, unsure of what lay behind Severus’ stern countenance. The potions master broke the pregnant silence at last.

“This isn’t for Potter’s ears, and don‘t pester me with endless thanks, I know precisely how you feel, and that is sufficient. You know how to reach me if you must. Do so if you feel the situation calls for it. I’ve seen Potter’s aura for myself. Your assumptions are correct. He has to be stopped or contained. If you cannot help him to move that spirit from his body, contact me before you attempt to take the amulet from him. I shall see if a plan can be made to incapacitate him should we need to. This aside, I have one final thing I wish to tell you.”

Draco nodded soberly, unwilling to interrupt when Severus was so deadly serious. The former professor looked like he was about to choke on something, and his eyes flicked warily down the halls before settling back on Draco’s own.

“Albus would have been very proud. I argued with him often then, certain that he was wrong. I would not have sacrificed his life to preserve yours…then. It would have amused him enormously to know that I have come to recant that sentiment. Do your best, Draco. I’ve given you what you need. The rest is in your hands. If we do not meet again…it is my hope that this was worth it for you. Goodbye.”

Severus accepted Draco’s mute and sober nod, and strolled down the hall and stairs. He placed his bags beside the fireplace and paused long enough to tersely say goodbye to Molly and Arthur, rolled his eyes at Harry with patent exasperation, and took the Floo home with the same absence of fanfare with which he’d arrived.

Harry took in a cup of tea, settling his stomach and nerves while chatting with Arthur and Molly. Draco’s recovery consumed the conversation, and Molly was fretting over Draco’s every change of appetite or wrinkled brow. This was not the ideal way to relieve himself of thoughts regarding Draco, and since that telling comment, Harry had been hounded by discomforting possibilities he hadn’t had to face before.

Draco had been a very safe fantasy, but that fantasy had taken a huge step towards becoming reality. It was one thing to nurse quiet affection between them, knowing full well that there was a limit to how far Draco could go, but it was another thing entirely to face a relationship that was now capable of maturing. Perhaps two months ago, Harry hadn’t considered the possibility of dating anyone since he’d left Hogwarts. Now he was in love, or something that was rapidly growing into love, and it was with another boy, AND that boy was Draco Malfoy. All things considered, Harry had dealt reasonably well with the repeated shocks to his system, in part due to Dula and Charlie. But even they couldn’t help him when the day or night finally came that Draco decided he wanted actual sex. For that, Harry would be alone. Harry took his tea into the living room, and stared edgily at the staircase he’d be taking soon.

’I haven’t got the first clue what I’m doing. I mean, I know I love a good snog and all, but Draco’s special. What if I do something wrong? What if I hurt him? Fuck all, I’d wanna just die if I thought I hurt him that way. What if I’m just not good? It’s not like I have a vast level of experience at this kind of thing. I came in my fucking pants at the game…how pathetic is that? I suppose I could talk to Charlie or Dula again. I know I’m not giving up on this, but that doesn’t mean I know what the fuck I’m doing. Sod it. I’m just going to sit up with Draco for awhile. It’s not like he’s in any shape to do anything tonight, but it’s just nice seeing him looking this well.’

Harry drifted back into the kitchen and washed up his teacup before heading upstairs, wishing Molly and Arthur a good night. Molly turned to Arthur just after Harry had left.

“Well, dear? Our Draco is supposed to be getting better soon. What do you think will happen from here? They’re just lads, and young ones at that. I hope they’ll do right by each other, but I can’t help but worry…for the both of them.”

“Molly, my love…you worry too much. They’re neither of them blockheads, and I’ve a feeling they’re good enough for each other. You’d never have convinced me years ago that young Draco would fall so far from the Malfoy tree, but that young man has a good way about him. Harry’s the lucky one if you ask me. I think he’s wise enough not to waste a good thing when it’s right in front of him. I just hope our Ronald gets on well enough. There’s just no telling what he might get up to. New jobs, none of them looking good, and nothing but codswallop coming out in The Prophet about him.”

Molly set to washing the last of the cups before bed, keeping a few of her worries to herself.

“Nothing that bad, Arthur. Actually, I was thinking of canceling our subscription. I read the most awful thing today. Harry was busy looking after Draco, and thank goodness he didn’t see it. Seems another young man was found dead yesterday evening. All marked up the way Draco was. They say it was Death Eaters again, and the last time Harry read news like that, he had an awful row with Kingsley. Better he not see something like that right now. He needs to think of other things, and Draco certainly doesn‘t need any more to worry about. I expect Ron will be alright. His heart was always in the right place, and it looks like he’s finally getting over Hermione. I’m for bed, love. You coming?”

Arthur smiled and nodded, then rose to join his wife of some three decades. Not a bad life, when one looked at it right. It had had its share of difficult times, but they were well outweighed by the good ones.

Harry had already headed upstairs some twenty minutes ahead of them, and found the door to Draco’s room closed. He tapped gently at it, hoping he didn’t make too much noise, and when there was no answer, he opened it as quietly as he could.

Draco was gone. Draco’s trunk was gone. The nightstand was empty of potion bottles. Even the bed was made and the room cleaned to sparkling. But no Draco. Harry’s heart stopped in his chest. This was his worst nightmare come true. Draco had gotten well, and had just left. How had he slipped out? Why? When? Harry’s breath was already coming in short gasps, and his cheeks and eyes were starting to burn, when he noticed the single scrap of parchment on the bed. His hand was trembling when he picked up the note. Harry swallowed and braved the reading of it, wishing he’d had the chance to talk Draco out of doing something like this.

Harry,

I feel wonderful, even with a headache from hell. Thank you for making this happen. I finally felt ready for a change. I’ll be waiting for you.

Draco

Harry’s heart stopped cold again. I’ll be waiting for you. A terrible suspicion filled him. Cold sweat was forming on his brow. His legs moved of their own accord, and he headed down the hall for his room. Our room?

The door wasn’t shut all the way. Harry pushed it gently open, sighing with relief. He’d been an idiot even to think those things. Draco’s trunk was in the corner next to his own, and when the door swung wider, there was Draco himself, comfortably ensconced in a pile of pillows, pajama-clad, and waiting for Harry with an enormous and giddy smile.

“You worried for a minute, didn’t you? Gryffindor sap. Like I’d leave you behind. Get in here. It’s cold. At least the bed is bigger.”

Harry took a deep breath and composed himself. So this was it. He wasn’t spending the nights in Draco’s room anymore. Percy’s old room was vacant, and Draco lived with Harry now. No more bouncing back and forth to change clothes out of sight, fearing that too much closeness would send Draco running in the opposite direction. Draco really was ready for a change. Maybe it would feel strange for awhile, and maybe it would scare the hell out of Harry now and again, but it was worth it a thousand times over, if he never had to feel the way he’d felt a few minutes ago. As long as there wasn’t a Draco-shaped hole in his heart, all was well with the world.

Harry flicked a hand and turned off the lights. Draco watched with nervous curiosity while Harry peeled away his clothes and put on his pajamas. Harry had discreetly turned his back while he changed, but moonlight still made the lean muscles of his back stand out in stark relief while he pulled off his shirt and slacks, and picked up his pajamas. Draco watched in silence, not really feeling like interrupting the magic. That and he seemed to have lost control over his voice right about the time Harry’s shirt came off. Even with his back turned, Harry was as leanly powerful as any pro Quidditch player, and Draco knew his own eyes were a bit wide, but he wasn’t thinking about appearances at the moment.

Harry finished changing and slipped between the sheets and quilts with an irrepressible grin and cheeks that were flaming. Draco was kissing him before he even got the sheets smoothed. They parted when Draco pulled away to whisper breathily into Harry’s ear, periodically nipping at the tender flesh just beneath it.

“I said I was ready for a change. Hold still. I’ve never done this before.”

Harry’s pulse was pounding in his ears, and he couldn’t believe what Draco was implying. He was still supposed to be aching from treatment, and Harry wasn’t ready for this! It was happening so fast, but he didn’t dare complain. Hurting Draco’s feelings was out of the question.

Draco twisted about, shifting positions, and Harry was overwhelmingly conscious of the nearness between them. They were on their sides, and Draco had turned his back to Harry. Harry’s hand was suddenly grabbed and lifted, pulling his arm around Draco’s waist, while Draco’s body slid back a little more, curling extremely close, until they were genuinely ‘spooning’. Not that they hadn’t been close while sleeping before, but not like this, not with Harry firmly wrapped around Draco and holding him close. Draco fidgeted, then settled down with a sigh.

“Perfect. I’ve waited forever to feel like this. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry was still bemused, but relieved. This was just his speed. Draco wasn’t the only one who’d ever dreamed of something like this. Harry’s life had been spent wondering what it would be like to be so close to another person, and now that he was here, it was ecstasy. This was what he’d been waiting for all this time. Holding Draco close made him feel good. Strong. Gentle. Alive. It was intoxicating, and Harry wondered how he’d ever manage to sleep like this. He kissed the back of Draco’s neck softly, enjoying the small gasp of contentment it brought, then finally found a few words of his own.

“I never thought I could. Feel like this, I mean. How do you feel about doing this forever? I’m game.”

“Well. I guess that’s it then. Don’t plan on getting away from me now, Potter. You’re mine, and I’m keeping you. Good night, Harry. I love you.”

“I love you too. Sleep easy, love.”

In silence, though neither was aware of it, they both watched the light of the moon and stars play across the far wall in the four panels created by the window. The stars didn’t tell them their destiny, or impart any secret wisdom, but they were beautiful. The Solstice was two weeks away.

---------------------------------------------------

In a dusty tenement flat in one of London’s uglier neighborhoods, three men laid spells of warding and secrecy about the walls and windows. Veiled by magic, their new dwelling became safe and sound. When the work was over, and living space had been seen to, the one who led them issued his command.

“Fetch me another toy, will you? Make certain that this one is sturdier than the last. I should hope to get at least a week or two out of him. If this one lasts, he shall be our final message. If not, I’ll have you fetching another before we’re through. The Solstice is almost come, my dear companions. While others prattle over the giving of gifts or of the meaningless divisions between the religious, ours shall be a great work for the ages, and Death and Rebirth will be at our fingertips. Choose well, and this one last time, be discreet and remain unseen. We’ll unveil ourselves soon enough, as the first disciples of our new Lord. Now go.”


TBC!!!