Funerals and Weddings

For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.


Chapter the Fifty-ninth: Musings and a Meeting with Snape
27 January, morning
Draco’s journal

I think I am in love.

My fingers are itching to cross that out and pretend I didn’t write it. Whenever I think about being in love, my stomach gets this really funny feeling in it and I feel kind of sick. It’s not the same as the feeling I get when I look at Harry sometimes—that strange, achy feeling in my chest. That strange, achy feeling is one of the reasons I think it might be true, though.

I think I might be in love with Harry.

Maybe the more I say it, the less afraid I’ll feel. Fear—of something intangible like an emotion—is not something I’m used to. But the idea of me, being in love with someone…well, it is a little scary.

Is there a way to know for sure? Is there a spell? I doubt it. Of course not. I wish there was—that would make this a hell of a lot easier. And it’s not like I was ever taught anything about love growing up. How the hell do I even know what love feels like or looks like? What do two people act like when they are in love? Do they behave differently? Shouldn’t they? I really think my mother loved my father when they married…but I think he killed that love so long ago that I don’t remember them ever being anything but properly courteous and coolly distant with each other.

I suppose I could still ask Mother. But…damn Lucius, I don’t really feel like I know her well enough! There isn’t anyone else I can ask about this—I certainly can’t ask Snape! I can just imagine his face if I were to tell him I thought I was in love with Harry and then ask him to advise me on it! Hmm…maybe I should do it, just to see his expression!

So it’s up to me to figure it out, I suppose. Here goes:

Why do I think I’m in love?

One—the ache in my chest. It just hits me sometimes, when I’m looking at him or when I’ve just kissed him. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s as if I never want to look away from him, never be apart from him. I feel this need to make him happy, to give him whatever he needs to be happy.

Two—I want to be with him all the time. Not obsessively, I’m not some lunatic stalker, but when I’m not with him, I look forward to the time when we’ll be together. When we’re together and have to separate, sometimes it is hard for me to let him walk away. I find myself planning my free time and my activities with Harry’s schedule in mind.

Three—the sex. Gods, that sounds superficial, even for me, but this is the one place where I can be totally honest with myself. And sex with Harry is…incredible. I think I told him once that sex with girls doesn’t even compare, and that is so true. But I wonder if sex with another guy would be as good either, as it is with Harry. There! That’s another reason I think I might love him—whenever I think of something hypothetical like that, like having sex with another man…even as I wrote that, I was thinking, “I hope I never have to find out.” And then I find…wait. Let’s stay on track here, Draco. Finish this topic before moving onto another. Sex. Sex with Harry.

Last night…I’m not even sure what to call last night! “Sex” doesn’t quite seem to cover it. What we had last night was too intense to just be called “sex.” Too…passionate, too wild, too insane, too…everything. I’m still not quite sure what happened. All I know is that when Harry used his magic to throw Nott against the wall, I felt his power. Felt it wash over me, into me. I’ve never experienced anything like that—and if I ever do again, I hope to Merlin I’m locked in a room alone with Harry again because I swear I’ve never been so fucking turned on, so fucking hot in my life! It took all of my self-control to maintain my composure and kick those four out of my room before leaping on Harry.

I think…I think I actually did leap on him. All I wanted to do was devour him, eat him alive. There was something inside of me, some need, and I had to have him. I honestly think I might have died if I couldn’t have touched him, kissed him, tasted him, buried myself in him. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve been trained my entire life to be in control of myself and my emotions, and I’d say I was pretty damn good at it, but last night…I had no control. There was no control. And it was fantastic. Incredible. Insane. When I finally came—and I’ve never so come so hard in my life—I think I may have blacked out for a moment. It was that intense.

Four—unbidden thoughts. As I was saying, sometimes these thoughts just pop into my head. Thoughts about the future—like hoping I’ll never find out what sex with a man other than Harry is like, because that would mean I wasn’t with Harry any more. Thoughts about him meeting my mother—meeting her as my boyfriend, that is. I’ll wonder if he’ll still look at me with lust in his eyes when I’m older. Sappy thoughts, like I wish I could wake up with him next to me, like I did this morning, everyday for the rest of my life.

Five—I’m happy. I’ve thought at other times in my life that I was happy, but now I think I was just momentarily pleased about something. Because how I feel now isn’t a passing feeling, but one that has lasted for days, weeks. So I’m pretty sure this is what “happy” really feels like, even if I’ve never really been happy before.

After re-reading this, I think I really am in love with Harry. No. That’s not right.

I am in love with Harry.

I love Harry Potter.


Shit! Now what do I do?

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Harry was grateful that no one had been up and about in the halls or the Gryffindor common room when he’d stiffly walked from the dungeons to the 7th floor (‘Why the fuck does my boyfriend have to live in the farthest possible part of the castle from Gryffindor?’ he’d thought, climbing flight after flight of stairs. ‘Or why can’t the castle have a lift, like the Ministry does?’). Luckily, 5:30 am on Sunday morning wasn’t popular for anything but sleeping. Still covered by his Invisibility Cloak, he’d crept into his dormitory room and quietly dug through his trunk for one of his phials of Pain Potion. Not that he was in actual pain—just sore and uncomfortable, especially in his nether-regions.

He’d eased himself onto his bed, Silencing and Locking his curtains as he lay down. Now he was just waiting for the potion to work its magic. As he relaxed, his thoughts drifted…

‘Thank Merlin for Pain Potions! Otherwise, I think I’d likely be sore for days and sitting astride a broom for Quidditch practise would probably be impossible! But even if did have to miss a practise or two, it would be worth it. Definitely worth it!

‘Damn! What came over Draco? It was like he’d been possessed by some…sex demon! Now I really understand the definition of “ravaged.” I’ve never been taken over that way before…never dreamed I could be, or that I’d allow it. I don’t like giving up control. I don’t like surrendering and letting someone else have power over me. But that’s exactly what happened last night. I completely surrendered control to Draco. And I…liked it.

‘The way he made me feel…shit, I’m getting hard again just thinking about it! After last night, you’d think I wouldn’t be able to get it up again for days, but…I reckon being 16 has something to do with it. But the way I felt…that’s all last night is—one huge amazing blur of feelings and sensations. Very intense feelings. What Draco made me feel last night went beyond the usual feelings I have when we have sex. It’s always good. Hell, it’s always great! But this…this was so much more.

‘It’s really hard to put it into words. If I was trying to describe it to someone—not that I ever would, mind you! Gods, I can’t even imagine trying to tell Ron or Hermione about last night! Not only would I not have the words, but…it’s too…private. Too personal. Something that intense between two people isn’t supposed to be shouted about to others. It’s just…theirs. It’s just ours.

‘Draco said it was feeling my power that got him so hot. The power of my magic. My magic. Is my magic really that powerful? I’ve noticed that my magic has seemed a little different lately…stronger, I guess. Last week, Professor Marchbanks said he thought my power had grown. Come to think of it, Professor McGonagall said something about it too. What was it she said? Oh yeah, she said something about my expending less energy doing Transfigurations lately. How would she know that, though? Guess I should ask her. Could be that…no, the Transfigurations we’ve been doing haven’t been any easier, if anything they’ve been harder! So does that mean my magic really is growing stronger? Hmm...note to self, Harry—ask Remus about this. He should know something.

‘I want to talk to Draco about it too. Last night, I was too exhausted to do much more than close and seal the curtains around Draco’s bed. I’m surprised I actually remembered to do it, but I’m glad I did—I’m sure Za—Blaise would have been thrilled to come in and see me and Draco lying naked in bed! And there wasn’t time this morning—it’s lucky Draco woke up when he did, or I might have gotten caught. But I definitely need to talk with Draco about last night. About everything last night—not just the sex and power stuff, but the Slytherin stuff, too.’

Harry yawned, interrupting his own thoughts. Deciding he was too tired to think about anything anymore, he closed his eyes. But they popped back open momentarily when he remembered he hadn’t Occluded his mind—thank the gods Voldemort hadn’t connected to him last night—he certainly didn’t remember blocking his mind before sleeping then! Access to his thoughts securely blocked, Harry closed his eyes again and let sleep overtake him.

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Harry didn’t resurface until eleven. He probably wouldn’t have even woken then, had it not been for Ron and Seamus shaking his bed.

“Wha?” Harry asked groggily, poking his head out of the curtains after removing the charms that had kept them closed. He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table.

Ron laughed at the way Harry’s hair was sticking up on one side of his head. “I should take a picture of you right now and give it to Malfoy. Let him know what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Or maybe use it to show people just who they’re voting for in the Sexy Student Survey,” Seamus chortled.

Harry sent his two laughing friends a sour look. “Like either of you look beautiful first thing in the morning. Besides, Draco’s seen me when I wake up and he hasn’t run yet. What’d you wake me up for anyway?”

Ron mentally gagged at the idea of his best friend in bed with Malfoy, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “To deliver a message. Sorry, mate, but Snape wants to see you.”

“Snape? Wants to see me? What the bloody hell for? I don’t have detention!” Harry sputtered.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, mate. He just came up to us at breakfast, asked where you were, then told us to ‘inform Mr. Potter that I will expect to see him in my office at noon today.’ I wasn’t about to ask him why,” Seamus attempted to mimic Snape’s bored drawl, but fell short.

Harry snorted then spoke in his best Snape voice: “I would advise you to limit your meager skills to Professor McGonagall, Mr. Finnegan. You’ll never master me the way Potter has.”

All three fell out laughing at that—not only at Harry’s uncanny imitation of Snape, but with the idea of Harry ‘mastering’ the greasy Potions master.

Harry dragged himself out of bed, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shite! It’s after eleven now. Dammit, I’ll have to hurry if I want to shower and eat before noon. See you guys later.”

Harry dashed for the shower, managing to clean up, wolf down a sandwich and arrive at Snape’s office door with one minute to spare. He knocked and entered when invited. Snape sat at his desk, writing.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” Snape replied, putting aside his paperwork. “You may sit.”

Harry sat in the wooden chair facing Snape’s desk. He was a bit nervous, but he was determined not to show it or to lose his temper with Snape, no matter what the git said about him and Draco. He knew that must be why Snape had called him for this meeting.

Snape sat and regarded Harry silently for a few moments. Harry looked back at him, keeping his mind blocked and his face expressionless.

“Legilimens,” Snape said suddenly, with a flick of his wand. Harry hadn’t even seen him go for his wand, but he wasn’t worried. He could feel the creepy sensation of fingers trying to pick at his mind that he always felt when practicing Occlumency. After a minute, Snape ended the spell and sat back in his chair.

“You’ve improved. I’m…impressed,” he commented.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied. Deliberately giving Snape an opening, he added, “Draco has helped me a lot.”

Snape raised a brow. “Ah, yes. Draco. I assume Draco has told you about the conversation we had yesterday?”

“No, sir. I know he spoke with you, but we haven’t had an opportunity to discuss it yet,” Harry said. He wanted to roll his eyes at Snape’s mocking use of Draco’s given name, but restrained himself.

Snape looked mildly surprised. “Hmm, and I here I thought young lovers told each other everything. No matter. Some of what I wish to say to you is similar to what I said to him.

“This…relationship,” he sneered slightly, “between you and Mr. Malfoy is foolish. It is beyond foolish. It is reckless and dangerous. Recklessness—this I’ve come to expect from you; but not Mr. Malfoy. I can only assume your influence is the cause.”

Harry kept his tone as polite and respectful as he could. “I’m not sure I understand why you believe my relationship with Draco is reckless, sir. Could you please explain?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “How can you possibly not understand? Do you not recall the man who was Mr. Malfoy’s father? Do you not recall who he served?”

“I’m well aware that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater in Voldemort’s service,” Harry said evenly. “After all, he did try to kill me on more than one occasion—hence his own death. I know Voldemort is furious with Draco for joining the Light. I know Bellatrix attempted to kidnap Draco. I know all this, but I don’t see how this makes our relationship ‘reckless.’ Voldemort would be after Draco no matter who he was dating.”

“Ah, but would he be so avid in his pursuit if Draco Malfoy wasn’t a potential bridge to Harry Potter? Yes, the Dark Lord wants Draco, Mr. Potter, but he wants you more. Draco’s betrayal is vexing, but it is not a priority—or it wouldn’t be, if he were not linked to you. After all, Draco is not even of age and isn’t fully trained; the loss of his membership in the Death Eater ranks is more of a…symbolic blow than a true problem. You are the Chosen One, Mr. Potter, and it is you the Dark Lord wants dead.” Snape’s black eyes never left Harry’s during his speech.

Though his stomach clutched at the thought of Draco being used as a pawn to get at himself, Harry refused to let Snape see his worry. “So you’re saying that because I’m the Chosen One, anyone I choose to be close to, anyone I choose to care about is automatically going to become a target?”

“Yes, but as it is Draco, a traitor, with whom you are involved, it provides a double incentive. It—”

Harry interrupted Snape, fighting hard to keep his emotions in check. “Do you think I’m not aware of this? Sir? I haven’t forgotten that Voldemort killed my parents and my aunt, or that Bellatrix killed Sirius, or that Wormtail killed Cedric on Voldemort’s orders—I haven’t forgotten that all of these people died simply because they were close to me. How could I possibly forget? The nightmares alone are a constant reminder that I am the reason five people are dead! But I can’t—” Harry broke off and closed his eyes. He couldn’t, wouldn’t lose control this way.

“You can’t what, Potter?” Snape demanded. “Can’t help it? It’s not your fault? What can’t you do, Potter?”

“I can’t stop caring about people!” Harry burst out. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Sir.”

Snape looked at him dispassionately. He understood Harry’s dilemma better than Harry would ever know. But he had to know more, so he pushed.

“And you feel that your inability to stop caring about people excuses the actions you make that place those people in danger?” he queried.

“No. No, sir. It’s not an excuse,” Harry said quietly. “It’s a fact. It’s a fact that I have to live with everyday. I live with the knowledge that people may die, simply because I care about them, or because they care about me.

“But the only way to change this fact is to cut myself off from everyone and everything I know. To isolate myself completely. And I can’t do that. I need to be here at Hogwarts so I can learn what I need to know to destroy Voldemort. I need my friends’ support to keep me going when I want to give up. I need something to fight for. I need something to live for.”

“And Draco gives you this?” Snape asked in an unusually soft voice.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Yes, Draco and my other friends. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m most likely going to die fighting Voldemort. I fully intend to take him down, but I know that the chances of me walking away from the fight alive are slim to none. The prophecy doesn’t say that one of us will live.”

Snape was shocked to hear Harry speak so calmly, so certainly of his own death. He wondered if Albus knew of the boy’s fatalistic mindset. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he listened as Harry continued.

“Knowing this, I feel I have the right to have some happiness in my life. I know you and most other people don’t believe me, but I was never happy until I found out I was a wizard and came to Hogwarts. I want to get some enjoyment out of whatever life I have left.

“I know that no matter what I do or don’t do, people are going to die. If one believes the prophecy, if I were to kill myself right now, Voldemort would take control and who knows how many people would die at his hands? If I do nothing—if I simply exist—people still die. People like my parents and my aunt and Cedric and Bertha Jorkins and that old man who died at the Riddles’ old house. If I live and I try to fight, people die.

“So if death is the result no matter what I do, then I might as well live and fight. But I need a reason to live and fight. If I give up everyone I care for, I lose that reason. My friends are one reason and my…feelings for Draco are an even stronger reason.”

Harry and Snape sat in silence for a few minutes, watching each other. When Snape finally spoke, his words surprised Harry.

“I agree with you and I applaud your logic—except for one point,” he said slowly.

Harry didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise. “Thank you, sir. May I ask what point you disagree with? I assume it is my relationship with Draco. Is that right, sir?”

“No,” Snape said, surprising Harry again. “Although I am not personally enamoured with the idea of you…being involved with Draco, your rationale for being allowed to pursue happiness where you can find it is logical and true. You are correct: whomever you chose to…become romantically involved with would become a target. While the fact that you’ve chosen Draco makes him an even more tempting target, there’s no guarantee that if you were to break things off with him—cut yourself off, as you said—that the Dark Lord would lose interest in Draco.”

Harry was stunned. He’d convinced Snape? But that still didn’t answer…

“Er, thank you, sir. But I still don’t know what it is you disagree with.”

Snape leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “You don’t have to die, Harry.”

If he was stunned before, now Harry was flabbergasted. But he didn’t know which shocked him more—what Snape had actually said, or the fact that Snape had called him ‘Harry.’ He cleared his throat. “Er, excuse me, sir?”

“As I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with your hearing, I won’t repeat myself.”

‘Ah, there’s the snarky git we all know and hate,’ Harry thought.

Snape continued: “I must admit, your attitude in regard to your own death bothers me somewhat. Why is it that you believe you will die in your fight against the Dark Lord?”

Harry shrugged. “C’mon, Professor, you know what I’m up against better that even I do. Surely it’s obvious.”

“I’m afraid not,” Snape said. “Please enlighten me as to your ‘obvious’ reasons.”

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Was the man really that dense? He didn’t like talking about this—his fate—which is why he’d never discussed it with anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. And now he had to talk about it with Snape?

“Professor, I know I have to fight him, but I don’t want to. I know I have to kill him, but I don’t like the idea of killing. I’m legally an adult, but I’m only 16 years old. I haven’t finished my schooling. I don’t know anywhere near enough magic right now to duel a Dark wizard, much less one who is as powerful as Voldemort. Realistically—honestly—do you expect me to come out of this victorious and alive?”

Snape sat back and steepled his fingers. He regarded Harry for several long moments before replying.

“Yes.”

“You…you do?” Harry managed to say, despite the shock that had frozen his tongue. “Why?”

Snape sat forward again and leveled that intense gaze at Harry. “Yes, Harry, I do. As for why…that is complicated. While I don’t normally put much stock in prophecies, I am not so much of a fool not to know that some prophecies are valid. I don’t believe that fate would choose to name someone incapable of winning as the Dark Lord’s potential downfall; after all, what would be the point?”

Harry frowned as he considered Snape’s words. He’d never thought about it quite that way before.

Snape continued: “As for why I believe you can defeat the Dark Lord and live, well, the proof is sitting in front of me. You say you aren’t capable of duelling a Dark wizard and winning? What about Lucius Malfoy? I know better than most what Lucius was capable of—and you defeated him, a Dark wizard with considerable power.

“More importantly, Po—Harry, you have defeated the Dark Lord and lived. Doesn’t the name ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ ring any bells? You’re still alive and you’ve already bested him. More than once! Not without luck and not without help, but you have done it. And nowhere in the prophecy does it say you must fight alone. So why shouldn’t you live?

“As I have told both you and the headmaster numerous times, I think you are too impetuous and rely too heavily on blind luck. But I think, with training, you can learn to capitalise on your strengths and win this fight.”

Snape sat back and smirked. “And, after all, I am on your side. Do you really think I would have spent years risking my life as a spy if I didn’t think I was on the side that would eventually be victorious?”

Harry smirked back a little as Snape’s words raced through his mind. He wondered if he dared to ask Snape why it was he had turned against Voldemort, but decided not to push his luck.

“I…I’m not quite certain what to say. You’ve given me a lot to think about, that’s for sure. So, um, thanks,” Harry said. “And thanks for, you know, understanding about me and Draco, sir.”

Snape lifted a brow. “Just remember what I said: you and Draco together present a very tempting target. Be very careful. Keep up with your Occlumency and your training. You are training, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. With Professor Marchbanks. He’s been setting me extra lessons, teaching me additional spells and moves and such. Draco as well—I needed someone to practise with and since he’s my partner in the class and he was willing…it’s worked out well. Professor Marchbanks says I am making progress.”

Snape tapped his fingers on the desk. “Good, good. I wonder…when do you have these practise sessions? I’d be interested in seeing your progress for myself.”

Harry told him a rough schedule of the times he and Draco had been meeting to practise. He explained that since they’d been meeting secretly, they didn’t have a set schedule.

Snape’s brows lowered as he frowned. “That is not acceptable. I shall speak to Marchbanks and Dumbledore about setting a regular time and place for your practise. Tell Draco. You and he need to come up with several potential time slots that you can meet. Give the information to Marchbanks. Then a final schedule can be set.”

Harry was surprised at Snape’s determination to arrange a regular practise schedule, but didn’t argue. He simply nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

Snape returned the nod, then stood. “I believe that is all we have to discuss for now. We shall speak more later, about the practise sessions. Er, have a good afternoon.”

Harry wanted to grin at Snape’s obviously rusty social skills, but of course didn’t. At least the man was making an effort. Instead, he put out his hand to Snape and said, “Thank you, sir. I hope your day is enjoyable as well. See you tomorrow.”

Snape clasped Harry’s hand briefly. They nodded at each other again, then Harry turned to leave the room. As he shut the door behind him, he realised that for probably the first time in his life, he was leaving an encounter with Snape with a smile on his face.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews—nice to know I got some of y’all a little warm with the last chapter. *wink*

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