This is the Way I Break

Author's note--SORRY, SORRY, A THOUSAND TIMES SORRY for the delay in updating! Life has been rather...unpredictable lately. *sigh* But here it is! Alright, so the title of this installment is "Break", so let's get to breaking! (Warning for angst and cliffhanger at the end! Both of them are trying to be strong, and they fail at different points, but It ends rather abruptly, right in the middle of the drama that will be continued in the next chapter!)

Enjoy! (and I really do mean that...not just cheekily...)

This is the Way I Break by Graballz

Chapter 6

Overwhelming Monday

The boys had a bit of an unintentional lie-in on Monday morning. Draco had insisted on NOT setting an alarm clock, and as a result, they were half an hour late to their lunch reservation with Ron and Hermione. With their wands back, they could Apparate rather than have to wait for the wizarding rail, but they hadn’t woken up until nearly noon as it was. Once he was ready, Harry sat on the edge of the mattress, brooding silently, while Draco changed outfits four times and fretted about seeing his lover’s best-friends-turned-enemies-turned-friends-again. The blonde kept up a steady stream of light chatter, trying to balance out his boyfriend’s uncharacteristic nervousness, but Draco also knew that Harry was apprehensive about the entire day. After lunch, they were going to St. Mungo’s to visit Molly Weasley.

As the two walked up to Ron and Hermione in the restaurant, Draco apologizing a bit stiffly for their ‘fashionable lateness’, it was clear that Ron had briefed his fiancée on what to say and not, since Hermione didn’t mention a word of their lack of punctuality. Draco was surprised but glad, and the conversation, though terse and awkward at first, finally smoothed out once Draco and Ron hit upon Quidditch once again. Hermione kept shooting concerned glances at Harry, Draco noticed, and once or twice, she leaned forward and tried to subtly mouth to him, asking if he was okay (but Draco didn’t have the heart to tell her that she actually wasn’t very subtle, since he saw every time she did it). Harry also ignored her, picking at his food for the most part but giving Draco small smiles when the blonde would touch his knee under the table.

It quickly became apparent that Draco and Ron didn’t have much in common beyond Quidditch—other than Harry, but they couldn’t very well talk ABOUT him while he was AT the table—but when Draco asked Ron who his favorite author and book was, Hermione jumped in with her opinion, finally leaving Harry alone. Though everything from his upbringing screamed the impropriety of speaking to a Muggleborn as if she were an equal, Draco found that Hermione challenged him intellectually and actually opened his eyes to new perspectives and angles that he had not examined before, especially in relation to some of his favorite texts that he was now intrigued to go back and reread.

Draco knew Harry was apprehensive about visiting Ron’s mum in the hospital; he himself was nervous as well, but for different reasons. He let his boyfriend be, offering quiet comfort and reassurance through touches and glances instead of words. Even though Draco had a legitimate reason to be uneasy, the Slytherin pushed the ‘incident’ to the back of his mind, telling himself to concentrate on Harry instead of Arthur Weasley and what he had done. They couldn’t both turn into basket cases, and the Weasleys were Harry’s former surrogate family. He had more right than Draco to be upset.

If the blonde had had any doubts about Harry’s edginess, they were quickly retired when he felt Harry begin to tremble as soon as they appeared in front of St. Mungo’s. Draco and Hermione had been in the middle of a conversation, but they both fell respectfully silent, supporting their partners. Ron’s face was paler than normal, and his Adam’s Apple bobbed continually, while Harry was nearly ashen. Draco slid an arm around Harry’s waist as they followed Ron and Hermione through the hospital, squeezing comfortingly when he felt the tremors running through the Gryffindor’s body.

Harry tried to be nonchalant and pretend like nothing was wrong, but his shaking was getting worse as they walked down the corridor. Draco knew it was only a matter of time before his boyfriend had a meltdown, but luckily, they stopped right in front of the floor’s public restrooms. Ron pointed to a nearby door, informing them quietly that his mother was in there, and that was when Draco knew the moment was imminent.

Harry couldn’t even look away from the ground, and Draco all but shoved him towards the bathroom, telling the couple over his shoulder that they would return shortly. Draco shut the door, Locked it, and checked to make sure they were alone. Harry was close to tears, Draco could tell, leaning against the tiled wall and staring sightlessly at the sinks opposite him. The blonde stopped right in front of him, facing him with a worried but loving expression, and Harry raised his head, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Harry’s heart was pounding triple-time, and he felt as if his chest were being squeezed by a giant fist. It was hard to breathe, but the reality of the situation hit him when he looked up and into his boyfriend’s soft grey eyes. Harry brought his hands up, but he was already crying, and his hands were shaking too badly for him to be able to wipe his eyes behind his glasses.

Draco’s heart broke when he saw the vulnerability and terror in Harry’s emerald eyes. He lost his breath for a second, wanting to cry himself when his lover began to sob, but then Draco swung into action, sliding closer to Harry, still leaning against the wall, and put his arms around the Gryffindor.

“I’m so afraid,” Harry whispered, turning his head so that his cheek rested on Draco’s shoulder. He had buried his face in the blonde’s collarbone and cried; Draco’s hands had automatically risen to stroke Harry’s hair and shoulders, letting him have his catharsis.

“I know, baby,” Draco murmured soothingly. “I’m here for you.”

“What if she…you know…” Harry choked, his eyes flooding again at the thought, and Draco swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear trickled down his pale cheek anyway, but he got hold of himself enough to answer Harry coherently.

“Then you and I will mourn her together,” Draco replied, and then instantly wondered if he had said the right thing. He had been raised without wishful thinking or maudlin regrets; when someone died, those left behind accepted it, acknowledged it, and moved on, though Draco knew deep down that he hadn’t completely come to terms with his parents’ expiration yet.

“I d-don’t wa-want her to d-d-d—” Harry stuttered, afraid that saying the word out loud would jinx Molly’s chance of recovery.

“I know you don’t, love,” Draco said softly, kissing Harry’s head. “There are a lot of people who don’t want that; just remember that whatever happens, I’m right here for you, okay? You don’t have to be the strong one all of the time; I’ll hold you and protect you when you need to be weak, okay?”

He could feel Harry nod, and he hoped that that was the sort of thing that would help the Gryffindor. For Draco, it was quite a promise and an admission; Slytherins weren’t good at dealing with weakness, whether their own or someone else’s. Personal weaknesses were shameful secrets, and other people’s weaknesses were to be exploited or ignored—depending on who the person was and what they had to offer. Draco promising to stick with Harry through the latter’s weak moments was a very un-Slytherin comment, but it represented how much he and Harry loved and trusted each other.

“I’m ready now,” Harry said bravely, and they disentangled themselves. Draco chucked him under the chin affectionately, exchanging sad smiles as Harry splashed some water on his face while Draco dispelled his charm on the door. They instinctively reached for the other’s hand as they walked back into the corridor, where Hermione was leaning against the wall, waiting for them.

She pushed off, her brown eyes lighting in concern as she came towards them. Her gaze flicked to Draco but ultimately settled on Harry.

“Are you alright, Harry?” She couldn’t help asking, and Harry nodded strongly.

“Draco helped me through it,” the black haired boy replied quietly, giving Hermione a level stare, making the girl flinch. He simultaneously squeezed Draco’s hand, and the blonde tried not to smile. He knew that Harry was emphasizing Ron and Hermione’s betrayal, and Hermione had obviously picked up on that as well.

“Good for him,” Hermione squirmed uncomfortably, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, thought better of it, closed it, and then opened it again. “Harry, we’re sorry for the way we treated you,” she said quickly, pausing in front of the closed door.

The Gryffindor nodded absently, his mind already on Molly, and Draco squeezed his hand once again, reaching around Harry to open the door and gently placing a hand on the small of Harry’s back to guide him into the room.

*

The first thing Harry noticed was how quiet the hospital room was. His breath stuck in his throat at seeing how frail Molly Weasley looked; her normally plump frame had diminished considerably due to her illness. Arthur was sitting beside the bed on one side with Ron on the other. Fleur was cradling a sleeping child, close to Teddy’s age, sitting on a small, uncomfortable-looking couch against the far wall. There was a steady pressure at his back, propelling him forward, and Harry realized with a jolt that Draco had kept him moving when his feet started dragging.

“Mrs.—Molly—Mum,” Harry stammered, stopping at the foot of her bed. Molly’s face lit up, and she held her arms out.

“Harry, dear,” she said softly, and Harry slowly crept forward, keeping his eyes fixed on his surrogate mother. In the back of his mind, Draco’s hand on the small of his back comforted him. He watched her anxiously as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, love,” she began, but Harry gave a stiff, violent shake of his head.

“It’s in the past,” he interrupted gruffly. “No need for apologies.”

“I’m so glad you came,” she took his hand. “Now come here for a proper hug. Just because I’m sitting down doesn’t mean I’m going to break.”

Harry laughed in spite of himself, and Molly pulled him down into a hug. The angle was rather awkward, and Harry sat on the edge of her bed, allowing her to hold him, hugging her back. He closed his eyes and inhaled her motherly scent, more tears running down his cheeks when he wondered what his own mother had smelled like.

Draco had taken an involuntary step forward, reaching for Harry when Molly pulled him to her. The blonde had caught himself, clasping his hands together, and forced himself to take a step back, bringing his hands back slowly. He had to resist the impulse to cross them over his chest, and he tried not to show his embarrassment over letting his guard down for a split second. He stared at the floor, fighting the slight panic of feeling alone in a room full of strange people. He knew all of them, but none of them had been close friends. In fact, all of these people who Harry claimed as friends had betrayed him to different degrees, and Draco had to make a conscious effort not to curse the lot of them.

His pureblood training came back to him, and Draco’s head rose, hard grey eyes staring unblinkingly at the wall above the bed. He refused to look at either of the male Weasleys, and he sensed Granger moving to the side of the bed with Ron. Everyone in the room was watching Harry and Molly, of course, but Draco still felt the sneaking glances they stole at him. He squared his shoulders, bending his elbows and placing his hands behind him in a posture of rest appropriate for a soldier. He used his peripheral vision to watch Harry disentangle himself from his former surrogate mother.

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and Draco glanced down to see Harry’s hand stretching out behind him, groping for Draco’s without the Gryffindor turning around. For a moment, the Slytherin panicked, caught in his head about whether to take Harry’s hand because if he did, everyone would see. He would have shown yet another moment of weakness to the enemy, after he’d already embarrassed himself by reaching out for Harry. If he didn’t, then Harry would be hurt, but Draco’s cover would still be strong.

He stepped forward quickly, his instincts kicking in, and grasped Harry’s hand in both of his, reassuring his lover that they were still supporting each other. The decision made, Draco felt ashamed that he had even hesitated; he realized that he had fallen back into his upbringing more easily than he would have liked to admit, especially after he had worked so hard to overcome it in America with Harry. He continually smoothed the skin of Harry’s hand, telling himself that it was for his boyfriend, but in reality, the blonde knew that he was trying to make up for the split second of indecision.

After Harry had gotten over his initial impulse to cry and hugged Molly, he pulled back, realizing that Draco was probably feeling lost behind him. He wouldn’t have blamed his lover for wanting to run out of the room, and Harry reached behind him, trying to show Draco that he hadn’t been abandoned, forgotten, or relegated to second place. He felt the blonde’s chilly hands take his own, and though their lack of warmth shocked him, Draco’s touch made him smile.

“How are you, Molly?” Harry took a deep breath, examining his former surrogate mother’s wane face more closely.

“Tired a lot of the time,” she answered ruefully. “The hardest part has been staying right here in this bed. There are things that need to be done—”

“That we will do while you rest, Molly-O,” Arthur interjected gently, smiling at his wife’s wrinkled nose. “She’s so used to going one hundred kilometers per hour, Harry, that she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself when she has a rest.”

“Yeah, Mum, it’s our turn to take care of you,” Ron said quietly, and Harry turned his head from Arthur to Ron, half-smiling. “You’ve taken care of all of us for so long; let us return the favor.”

“Oh, you wonderful boys of mine,” Molly choked up, including Harry in her fond glance. “I’m so glad you came back, Harry. I know why you left, but I never stopped missing you, love. You know that, right? You’re like one of my own boys, Harry.”

“I know, Molly,” Harry said in a wobbly voice, trying to keep a smile. He knew that Molly hadn’t condemned his relationship with Draco. She had never disapproved, but he had left just the same. The Gryffindor felt a flash of guilt for leaving her, even though it had been necessary. “I’m glad I came back too.”

“How are you keeping?” Molly reached out and cupped his cheek, and then moved his head over just a little so that she could smile at the blonde standing awkwardly behind him. “Hello, Draco.”

“Mrs.—Mrs. Weasley,” Draco was flustered, not expecting to be acknowledged. “My condolences on your situation.”

“Thank you, dearie,” she said, glad that he had looked at her instead of everywhere else as he had been trying to do. “How are you, Draco? Have you been keeping our Harry well and happy?”

“Yes,” Draco blinked. “We’re great.” Even though the weeks before Spring Break had been rough and they had fought in the past, they were indeed doing much better, in spite of the difficult circumstances. Draco had to fight the urge to correct her use of the plural, wanting to inform everyone that they had lost their claim to his lover when they turned their backs on him, but he clamped his lips shut, knowing that Harry wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We really are, Mum,” Harry had turned, smiling lovingly at Draco, and now he let Molly see that love in his eyes when he turned back to her. “Draco’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and we stick by each other.”

“If anyone ever deserved to be happy, it’s you, Harry,” Molly’s eyes filled with tears once more. “Fighting You-Know-Who at your young age; you deserve the best, love.”

“Draco IS the best,” Harry said strongly, glancing at Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye. The brunette had perched on the arm of her fiancée’s chair, and Ron had put his arm around her. Her hand was on the back of his neck, and his face was averted, staring at the floor. He could sense that they were both troubled, even though he had hoped that Ron and Draco had patched up their unease. “I love him more than anything.”

“Then never let him go, sweetheart,” Molly gave Harry’s other hand a squeeze, turning her watery smile to include Draco as well. The blonde gave a nod of recognition, not comfortable with showing emotion to Harry’s former family.

“So what is—” Harry had been about to change the subject to Molly and her ordeal when the door opened, and a Healer entered, looking serious.

“I’m sorry, but my patient needs her rest,” the wizard frowned pointedly at the Boy Who Lived and the blonde holding his hand. “You can come back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. Arthur got to his feet while Molly’s mouth tightened in anger.

“Now, wait just a moment,” Arthur came around the bed. “They’ve only been here for five minutes!”

“Mister Weasley, I thought I was clear in my instructions that your wife should not come in contact with anything that might cause her stress,” the Healer reprimanded.

“Are you implying what I THINK you are?” Arthur’s voice rose sharply. “Because if you are, you can just—”

The baby on the couch began wailing, having been woken up by the loud voices, and Fleur, who had been inconspicuously reading a book and trying not to attract attention, gathered her up, apologizing profusely as she hurried out the door.

“Molly, I am zo zorry. I zhould go and change Victoire,” Fleur explained, and Hermione jumped up, pulling Ron up with her.

“We’ll go too,” she said, and Ron nodded. The Healer seemed grimly satisfied and waited until the door closed behind them before turning back to Arthur.

“The wards alerted me to your wife’s elevated stress levels,” the Healer’s glare turned to the two boys. “It’s not difficult to ascertain WHY; after all, this sort of abnormality would stress even a healthy person, much less a sick—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Arthur thundered, his face turning red instantly. He lunged at the Healer, grabbing the man by his robes and getting up in his face. “HOW DARE YOU—”

“Arthur, NO!” Molly began struggling to get out of bed, and Harry instinctively leaned forward to prevent her. A loud alarm filled the room. Draco was frozen in horror, watching the scene play out as Harry abandoned trying to hold Molly back in favor of leaping from the bed and charging over to the two men, trying to force himself in between them.

“Mister Weasley, STOP!” Harry cried, trying to pry the older man’s hands off of the Healer. He put his hand on the Healer’s chest and pushed, taking a glancing blow to the side of his head for his trouble. “Think of Molly! She wouldn’t want you to do this!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME, YOU FILTHY FREAK!” The Healer jerked out of Arthur’s grasp, pummeling Harry once more as he stumbled backwards. Harry was able to barely restrain Arthur; the older man’s blue eyes were hard and murderous, and he looked nothing like the gentle, joking father of his former best friend that Harry had always known.

In his mind’s eye, Harry saw a faceless young man with red hair grab a blonde girl in a deserted corridor; he pinned her to the wall and began to force himself on her. The Gryffindor had never thought Arthur Weasley was capable of rage, much less violence, but he had been proven wrong just now, and Draco’s accusations came flying back to him.

Arthur Weasley raped my mother.

But I have to tell you that I just don’t see Arthur Weasley as someone who attacks women…Pick any one of his Death Eaters, and I wouldn’t be surprised that they raped people too. But Arthur?

What about me, Harry? Maybe I wasn’t an actual Death Eater, but I was supposed to be. How many people would I have raped, huh?

Tell me, Harry…Is it just because she was married to a Death Eater? Is it because she picked the wrong side? Your precious Order people weren’t capable of rape, too? Sorry, Golden Boy, but your side wasn’t perfect either. It’s time you pulled your head out of the sand and realized that.

The door flew open, and a medi-witch rushed in, jarring the black haired boy momentarily from his thoughts. She ignored the men as she ran to Molly’s side, pulling her wand, and began casting spells in rapid succession to stabilize her patient. The alarm silenced abruptly, and Arthur broke away from Harry’s grip to rush back to his wife’s side, taking her hand and crooning to her.

“It’s alright, Mister Weasley; she will be okay in a few moments,” the young nurse said anxiously. “Could everyone clear the room, please? The patient needs to rest.”

“What did I tell you?” The Healer snarled as he opened the door. Arthur turned to him and took a threatening step.

“GET OUT!” He screamed. “GET OUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SET FOOT IN MY WIFE’S ROOM EVER AGAIN!”

The Healer turned and fled when the redhead drew his wand. Draco snapped back to himself, watching the older man in terror as he glanced in Draco’s direction in passing on his way back to his wife’s side.

“What?” Arthur snarled, quite before he could catch himself. The blonde was shaking violently, and he turned so pale that Arthur, immediately feeling guilty for misdirecting his anger at Draco, was afraid he might faint.

Harry’s mouth dropped open when the older man spat at his boyfriend. In a flash, Harry realized just how right Draco had been; not necessarily about Arthur being a rapist, but about how willfully blind Harry had been, deliberately naïve or ignorant of assigning blame to the winning side. In that instant, Harry believed his former surrogate father to be capable of rape, and it nauseated him.

“Oh my god…you DID rape her, didn’t you?” The thought translated into speech so fast that Harry didn’t have time to stop himself from saying it out loud, but Arthur stopped dead in his tracks.

“Harry, I—” Arthur began, but Draco couldn’t take any more and took off like a shot, running out of the room. Harry gave his former surrogate father a final glare and chased after Draco, catching the blonde a ways down the hallway.

“Draco…Draco, wait,” Harry grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling his lover to a swinging stop. Draco instinctively yanked away from him, overcorrecting and nearly stumbling into the wall.

“DON’T!” He screamed, involuntary tears coursing down his cheeks as he paced back and forth the width of the hallway. Harry guarded him, not allowing Draco to pass but every effort to reach out was rebuffed with violent slaps. “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

“Draco…” Harry pleaded. He barely noticed Ron and Hermione as they came up behind him, but his brain registered that they were there from their concerned voices.

“NOW do you believe me, O Chosen One?” Draco paused to glare at Harry contemptuously. “You never really did before, did you? You said you did…but you never really, truly believed that Arthur Weasley raped my mother until now! And why? Because—”

“Hey!” Ron’s eyes widened and he gave Harry a tremendous shove, standing directly in front of the blonde, blocking his path. “What did you just say about my father?”

“You didn’t know?” Draco sneered. Part of him was screaming for him to ignore Ron and go check on Harry, but Draco’s Malfoy pride kept him firmly planted and focused on his enemy. “Welcome to the truth, Weasel. I don’t think you’d recognize it if it bit you in the arse, but here it is: your father is a rapist! Didn’t know that, did you?”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Ron’s voice was a livid hiss. Harry had careened into the wall, and Hermione dove to help him. They both froze, though Harry shook his former friend off angrily, wanting nothing more than to annihilate Ron right that second. It was Draco’s fight for the moment, but Harry subtly moved closer, coiled and ready to strike and defend his boyfriend.

“Calling me names won’t change that fact, Weasley,” Draco replied. “Of course he wouldn’t tell you! He wouldn’t want you to know what a disgusting prick he really is!”

“He told me, alright,” Ron challenged, and the Slytherin paused, his grey eyes narrowed to slits as he studied the redhead. He prided himself on being able to tell when people—especially Gryffindors—were lying, but his instincts were whispering that Weasley didn’t seem to be lying. “He warned us about the lies your family keeps trying to spread, and he told us the truth first, so that we’d be prepared. Your mother’s the liar, Malfoy. My father has never raped anyone; she just wanted to get him in trouble like the little Slytherin whore she always was!”

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” Arthur appeared behind Draco just in time to hear his son, and the blonde whirled around with a start. “That was completely uncalled for, and I’ll thank you to stay out of it!” Arthur stunned the younger man into silence. He turned to Harry, knowing better than to confront the blonde, who was visibly seething with murderous rage. “Harry, please, will you and Draco come back to the room? I can explain about Narcissa,” he pleaded.

“Explain?” Draco growled. “How DARE you speak her name! I’ll kill you!”

“DRACO, NO!” Harry lunged, intercepting his lover as Draco brought his hand back, intending to punch Arthur. Ron made a grab to stop the Slytherin, but Harry’s momentum crashed them both into the far wall and Ron’s hand clutched at air.

“I’ll kill YOU!” Ron howled at Draco, but Arthur stepped quickly between his son and Harry, planting his hand on Ron’s chest and shoving backwards hard.

“Get out,” Arthur snapped. “You’re only making things worse. Hermione, get him out of here. Now.”

His future daughter-in-law was nearly in tears with fear, worried over who was going to brawl with whom. Hermione nodded, trying to divert Ron’s attention from Draco, and after a bit of coaxing from his fiancée and threatening glares from his father, Ron finally left with Hermione at his side.

**********

Author's note--*cringe* Don't kill me! So just keep in mind that Draco's freaking out, Harry's caught in the middle, and the angst will continue in the next chapter.

gorgeousbrowneyes YAY, so glad your mojo is back!!! Okay, glad that someone else feels the same way I do. I can't promise that I won't get into a weird, kinky mood and write a sex scene on James and Lily's bed (after Draco makes it nice and not rotted anymore) but IF that happens (and a VERY BIG IF) I promise it'll be either sweet and cute or hot and sexy, but NOT squicky.

No red panties? LOL Okay, fair enough. My thought was, "James is 21...and he's always portrayed as so serious as an adult, but he was actually pretty adventurous as a kid, so why not?" But I'm glad you liked the rest of it! And the thought of them finding the gift that never got given...god, that just makes me cry because it's so tragic!!!

Link me to the picture!!! I'd love to see it! And thank you for hogging my review space! LOL YES, SHOWER SCENE!!! ME LIKE SHOWER SCENE!!! Can't wait!

tas Hey, thanks for the review!! The red panties could be a thong if you wanted them to be...I personally don't care much for butt floss (and therefore don't have the heart to put Draco or Harry through wearing it), but if that's what works for you, then by all means...

And you make a really good point about the other personal touches. All I can say is that they haven't explored downstairs yet. And that's all I'm going to say about that...

thrnbrooke Thank you, hon! Now you need Chapter 7, eh? *wink*