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 67: Love Is The Answer

“It was always moving toward this, Harry. In the end, it was always supposed to be you or me…or was it?”

Voldemort’s image subtly shifted until the withered creature had become a man of mature years, dark haired and powerful, the intensity of his gaze the mark of his power…and its source. Harry felt the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and the Soul Line even through his dream state. Even unconscious and drifting, his imagination piled agony upon him. All he could do was gasp for air like a fish out of water, feeling Voldemort’s scrutiny upon him.

“Was it always supposed to be you OR me, Harry? Why do you think we were cast as opposite numbers, doppelgangers bound to end in destruction? Was that really necessary? I once thought so…but I’ve had time, Harry. Time to think. Time to dream. Time to understand. There was another option, one they dared not voice aloud to either of us. I was mad then, Harry, but not now…now I understand what could be. Us. United. Our souls and our power tied together for all time. We could become something more powerful than the world has ever seen. Think of it! Ultimate power. We could change everything! Every unfairness made right, every weakness crushed, every betrayal punished. All you have to do is let me in. Not as a passenger…as an equal. Let me in, Harry, and this torment will cease.”

Harry twisted on the dark floor his unconscious mind had created, and struggled to form his answer.

“No! N-never! I hate you! You…you fucking monster! My parents! My friends! You took them! You! Fuck you! You belong in hell!”

The pain of Cruciatus took its toll, and Harry’s breath was spent. Voldemort clucked his tongue and smiled.

“Harry…really! That was then, and this is now. You have to live in the present, Harry. You have so few choices. You can wait until your will breaks, in which case you will die and my spirit will take this body before it expires, or you can join with me, let us become one, and know the world again…this time as its master! What else do you have? A boy you nearly killed only minutes ago? A backstabbing strumpet? A cluster of oddball Muggle-huggers that make good use of your power and fame? You could have been so much more, but they’ve tied their strings to your heart, and they tether you to the world of limits and boundaries! I can give you so much more than that. I can give you the world, and everything thereof! Think clearly, Harry…the choice is obvious.”

Harry’s muscles clenched violently, even in this realm of dreams. He began to weep haltingly. The cruel reminder of what he’d lost bit deep. He had nothing to go back to. No love, just betrayal and fear. They feared his power, though he’d never used it against them. In his rage he’d even driven away Draco. His first and only real love was gone. He’d almost killed Draco when he’d forced open his lover’s mind and read its secrets, and even now, betrayal, secrets and all, his heart ached with emptiness for what he’d lost.

“Dra…draco.”

“There are a million like him, Harry. Women, men, so many will beg for your favor that you will never want for company. You could take your pleasure with any of them, as often as you please. You’ll never want for anything, Harry. Never again. No cupboards, no hunger, no aloneness. It will be dark when you wish it, and light when you don’t. You can kill or grant mercy, rule with an iron fist or a velvet glove, but you must choose. If you don’t…I’ll choose for you. It’s all up to you, Harry.”

The pain of Cruciatus suddenly lessened and vanished, and Harry caught his breath once again, suddenly able to concentrate despite the pain of his conflicted soul. Somewhere, far off in the distance, Harry heard a voice. It was familiar, and treasured, and it called out through the darkness, frantic and full of urgency.

’DO YOU HEAR THAT, HARRY? I LOVE YOU!’

Harry gazed at his own hand dazedly, looking to the ring he wore on his finger still. Even in rage he hadn’t abandoned it, and Draco hadn’t abandoned him. Maybe it was a trick of dreams, or some glimpse of his subconscious, but it was something, wasn’t it? He loved Draco, and in his heart and soul, he wanted nothing more than to see and feel that loved returned. The only thing in a lifetime of loss and grief that had brought happiness back to his heart had been love. Draco’s love. It was real. It had to be! Draco’s voice meant he was near…near LeStrange! He’d come here in spite of all that Harry had done, in spite of what he’d been told, at the risk of his life…for Harry! Even if he’d kept secrets, what kind of betrayer would risk their life to say those words one more time! Harry mustered his answer, feeling stronger than he had only seconds ago.

“No. Maybe…maybe I’ll die, but I’ll take my power with me. You’ll never use it to hurt anyone. Not anymore. Never again. The answer is no.”

Voldemort looked outraged as well as utterly dumbfounded. His teeth were grinding, and his eyes bulged with fury. The mask of subtlety was gone, and the face of his hatred and rage was back in place. This was the Voldemort he’d always known. A creature of wild passion and incomprehensible evil.

“You animal! Lower than the Muggle whore that whelped you! You’re dirt! Filth! You’re unfit to host me! I’ve offered you everything and still you rebuff me? For what? Some petty emotion? Some deluded notion of doddering poets and schoolgirls? For this you would die? Then die! I’ll take the flesh you leave behind, and I’ll sate my hunger with the souls of every fool that nurtured this cancer in you!”

Harry crawled to his hands and knees. That blessed voice came to him again, faint in the fog of his mind, but the words rang like a bell in his soul.

’ Harry! Love is the answer! Love, Harry! You have to forgive him! I love you, Harry! Remember that! I LOVE YOU!’

And Harry understood. For the first time ever, Harry truly understood his role, and Dumbledore’s words rang true one final time. Even Voldemort‘s…Tom Riddle’s, own words betrayed his weakness. The creature in front of him hadn’t dared speak the word love even once. And there was more. Harry had been shown so much by Dumbledore, memories and recollections of young Tom, each showing a tiny fragment of a complicated young man. A young man with a lust for power, a taste for the fear of others, and so many fears buried in his heart. Tom Riddle had never loved, and had never been loved.

He hated what he feared most in the world. He feared what he could not or would not understand. In fear was his hatred of love first born, and in love could the power he’d taken through fear be broken. Harry wasn’t here to kill Tom Riddle, he was here to show Tom what love was. In that moment, Harry let all hatred slide from him, and abandoned the grudges he’d clung to so blindly. This was freedom…this was letting go. Only now could he voice what needed to be said. Harry stood up, smiling beatifically, the love that had been shared with him his entire life radiating from the core of his being. Even hurt, even threatened, even manipulated to evil ends, that love had never been extinguished, because his foes had never truly understood it. Tom Riddle took a step back, confused by this sudden and gentle defiance.

“I forgive you.”

The stately image of Voldemort the man shifted and morphed, and the image became the teenage Tom that Harry had met in the Chamber of Secrets.

“What?! What is this prattle? You’re a corpse, Potter! You’re just too stupid and stubborn to know it! I am a GOD! I will destroy you…and I’ll bring ruin to every pathetic creature you ever cared for in your entire miserable life!”

Harry shook his head gently.

“No. You won’t. I didn’t understand what he was trying to show me…Dumbledore, that is. He was trying to show me what he missed. The mistake he regretted his entire life. It bothered him right up to the end. I understand now. I’m sorry, Tom. I forgive you.”

Tom had begun to shake with fury, waving his fist while his face turned scarlet.

“I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! I’ve crushed babies beneath my boot heels…torn the life from maidens, and cast spells so foul that decent folk cover their ears when the names of them are spoken aloud! I am immortal! Eternal and undying! I have become Death, destroyer of worlds! How dare you mewl to me your pathetic forgiveness. How dare you!”

“No one should go through life feeling unloved. No one deserves that. Not you, not me, no one. You were just a little boy. You couldn’t have known then. Dumbledore was a busy man, but he cared in his way. If he’d realized how scared you were, he would have tried to help. He wasn’t looking closely, and before he knew it you were grown. It was too late then. He carried that failure with him the rest of his life, knowing that if he’d just shown you a little more, helped you find people that cared for you genuinely, you’d have found love.”

Tom was frothing at the mouth, screaming invectives at the top of his lungs, past the point of logical speech now.

“THAT MISERABLE OLD CODGER! WATCHING OVER MY SHOULDER! DIE, YOU OLD BASTARD! DIE! I HATE YOU! YOU! POTTER! YOU’LL PAY LIKE HE DID! YOU’LL SEE! I HATE YOU ALL! I’LL DESTROY YOU! ALL OF YOU!”

Harry stood calm in the face of the tirade, radiant and as gentle as a lamb. His green eyes shone faintly with the first hint of tears that weren’t for his own pain, but for someone else’s.

“Your mother loved your father so much. She never really gave you up. Not in her heart. She was dying, Tom. She made sure you’d be fed and clothed and looked after. She adored your father so much that she couldn’t keep living without him. She never wanted you to feel like this. She never wanted you to be alone in the dark. She loved you. She loved you enough to let go.”

“SHUT UP! SHUT YOUR FILTHY LYING MOUTH! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU HEAR! YOU KNOW NOTHING! NOTHING!”

Tom Riddle ran out of breath, clutching his chest, and dropped to his knees, racking noises sounding in his chest, almost sounding like he was about to vomit, but then they shifted subtly, and Harry knew that they were sobs. Tom Riddle grabbed his curly hair and balled his fists in front of his eyes, fighting what was boiling inside of him.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“I forgive you. You were afraid. A lot of people let you down. I know what it means to be afraid. I know what it is to be alone…in the dark. I grew up without a mother, or a father, and I was afraid for a very long time, but when someone offered me their love, I didn’t push them away. I love them all. Even the ones who hurt me. Some meant it, some didn’t. I love them all. I hope they have better lives. I hope whatever made them do those things changes for them, and I hope they treat the people they care about better than they treated me. Love has nothing to do with getting anything in return…it’s about what you become when you give it freely. I…I love you, too. Not what you became, and not what you’ve done, but I love who you are, what you could have been. You were special, and powerful, and you could have done so much more…if someone had just fought to make you understand that they cared about you. I forgive you…and I love you.”

The figure blurred and shifted a final time, and now Tom Riddle was a little dark-haired boy, pale and shaking, while Harry stood above him, watching him weep. Harry could feel the pain of Cruciatus strike his flesh again in the real world, but here he did not care. Here in the heart of the Soul Line, he’d made true peace with himself, and no force on earth could shake the certainty and clarity that he now possessed. The little boy croaked a hoarse whisper.

“I don’t want to go. I have to live forever. I’m afraid. It’ll be dark. I don’t want to go. What will happen to me? Where will I go?”

Harry knelt down beside Tom, smiling sadly, brushing tears away from the boy’s cheeks, and shrugged.

“I won’t lie to you. No one knows where we go until we get there. We’re all afraid of the dark, but you can’t stay anywhere forever. Forever is a very long time. I can’t say for sure, but I thought I saw my parents a few times, thanks to magic. When I was scared of dying, I used to think about them waiting for me. I never got to know them when they were alive, but I know they loved me. Like your mother, they did what they could do to make sure I’d be alright, and then they were gone. It didn’t work out perfectly, but I know they tried. I’m not mad at them at all. I like to think I’ll see them again someday. Besides…who said its going to be dark there? For all we know, it could be light all the time.”

The little boy looked up quizzically, and saw no guile or deceit in Harry’s face. He asked his questions haltingly, as if he’d never spoken them to another before.

“Do you…do you think my mother is waiting for me? If I wanted to be where the light is, would they let me stay?”

“I said I wouldn’t lie to you, Tom. I won’t know until I get there. I know we all have to leave someday. Everyone. There must be others. I can guess that you won’t be alone. Even if it was dark, it isn’t so bad when you make friends with others. Nothing is ever so bad when you have a friend, even being in the dark. And besides that, we‘re wizards! When it‘s dark, we cast Lumos! Right?”

“Yeah! I know how to cast that! Harry? You’ll remember me, won’t you?”

Harry laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I can absolutely promise you that! I’ll never forget you, Tom. I will always remember you.”

The little boy looked at Harry somberly, tears gone, and his voice was very soft when he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t take it all back, but I’m sorry. I wish I could stay with you. You’re nice. I think…I think I have to go now, but…I’ll miss you. Th-thank you, Harry.”

Harry suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a very fierce hug, and he responded in kind. Tom was shaking, and he felt very small, almost wispy, and Harry realized that he wasn’t quite real or solid anymore, if anything in this dreamscape could be called real. Tom’s nervous whisper called his attention one last time.

“I think…I think I love you too, Harry. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Tom.” And Harry realized that he was alone. The energy that had sustained him slipped away, and Harry felt himself tumbling into darkness. He wasn’t really afraid anymore, even though he wasn’t sure where he was going, or if he was even alive anymore. If this was the end, he hoped he’d see his parents again. And Dumbledore and Sirius, Ginny and Hermione…all of them. Most of all, wherever he went, he hoped he’d see Draco again soon.

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Draco had gone past the point of coherence within seconds of his memory returning. At first all he could utter were screams, and then inarticulate howls and low keening noises. Now he was reduced to short, barking pants for breath while cruel visions of days past slid before his mind’s eye.

The stink of that terrible cell was in his nostrils, and the pains that lanced through so much of his body were real again. The vague horror as he looked at the infected track marks that needles had made on his arms. The nausea that came in the aftermath of having gratefully lapped the come from MacNair’s prick just for a shot to take away the pain. The bland resignation at the end when they came for him. Each day had been a new hell, until he’d seen so much that nothing could really shock him anymore. He wandered limply to his fate, past the point of even hoping for death. He made the appropriate noises when MacNair pounded into him. He appeared to respond to the hot irons or the knives, but they could tell that something had shifted. Something had broken. That’s why they had thrown him away. Not so much because of Harry. Because they’d taken everything from him that could be taken.

If it hadn’t been for one weird month among the Muggles of London, fed and healed and clothed as best they could manage, that final rape wouldn’t have shocked his mind to wakefulness. In his mind’s eye, every man was a creature of black and terrible lust, waiting to pounce and tear and hurt. To pin and penetrate, whether gently by nearly forced consent, or violently and with a sick pleasure taken from the cruelty of it, they were all the same. And what then was Draco, who had lusted for such a thing from Harry?

Harry.

Harry was just a few feet away.

He’d lived with this pain before, and endured and functioned in the face of these horrors for a long time before Snape had healed his mind. Harry needed him, and he had to fight this if they were to have any hope of living though this. Draco fought through the fading horror of his mind, shoving the best memories of Harry he had to the forefront.

Harry floating him gently from the stairs to a chair. Harry offering his hand and his help in the hallway. Harry holding his hand when he was frightened by the nightmares and memories that terrified him again now. The softness of Harry’s lips in the cool dark of their room. Harry carrying him to bed after Dawlish had drugged him silly. Harry, his face full of awe, beneath him, grateful for the power just to touch someone he loved this way. Harry was at the core of everything that Draco loved about being alive, and the Harry that he loved with all of his heart and soul would surely die if Draco didn’t fight this.

Draco peeled open his eyes, and the dim electric lights of the Muggle building burned. Tiny flashes of degradation and violation played in front of his eyes, but he turned his head and saw Harry. Rodolphus LeStrange knelt above Harry’s prone form, every so often casting a new Cruciatus Curse. Draco had no wand on him, but his uncle’s back was to him. He had to try.

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


Rodolphus LeStrange knew something was wrong. His Mark had blossomed full and strong, black as the day it was forged into his flesh, but less than a minute ago it had waned, and finally it had faded more than it ever had before. Something was terribly wrong. He flung curse after curse into the body of Harry Potter, and still the bastard didn’t so much as twitch! He was almost ready to try another spell, when the unthinkable finally occurred.

Potter groaned mightily, his back arching and crackling as he spasmed, and an oily darkness slid from his mouth and nose, only to evaporate slowly into the still air of the warehouse. His body collapsed completely, and Rodolphus knew almost by instinct what had happened, but he still couldn’t believe it!

“No…no…it…it just…it can’t be! My…my Lord! NO! Unacceptable! Impossible! You…YOU WORTHLESS, INSOLENT, INSIGNIFICANT BRAT!”

The moment of lost control fell away, and Rodolphus was shaken by his own emotionality. Dead. His Lord was gone. Potter had won. The unfathomable had become reality, and he would have to flee. There would be no Dark Lord. This time…the war was truly over, not merely the battle. It was done.

Something cold and ugly flickered back to life in Rudolphus’ fevered brain. This was an affront that couldn’t be forgiven. Blood cried out for blood, and if the world would have no Dark Lord, he would see that it had no hero of the Light.

“Very well, Potter. I congratulate you. I’ll never know how you did this, but I don’t care a damn. You’ll follow my master to the grave! Farewell, Mr. Potter.”

Rodolphus leveled his wand at Harry Potter’s brow, gathering his considerable will, and selected the curse that would finish the matter once and for all.

“Avad-URK!”

Rodolphus looked down while his mind slowly processed the incredible pain that lanced through his back and chest. The black steel tip of Potter’s knife was jutting out of his bared torso, and a slow, thick trickle of red was dribbling down, staining his shirt. He could feel the last panicked flutter of a heart that had burst when steel tore through it, and Rodolphus LeStrange died before he could form another thought.

The body tumbled to the side, revealing Draco, who had just let go of the knife’s hilt, small crimson smears covering each hand. Draco wanted to grab Harry, shout out his love now that they were safe, but the blood on his hands hypnotized him.

He’d killed. Even if it was his uncle, even after everything that had happened, he’d wanted there to be another way. He hadn’t had the nerve to kill, or the humility to beg for help, when he was sixteen, and in that instant his entire life had been irrevocably changed. Tonight, he had taken a life, and even if it was for Harry, even if it had been to save the entire world, his stomach turned and his mind reeled at what he’d just done.

His blood-stained hands were shaking uncontrollably. He tried to wipe them on the floor, get the stuff off of him, but it only smeared and ground into his palms. The copper-iron tang of it was in his nostrils, choking him with the smell of death and mortality. He’d killed. It was real. He’d stabbed a man to death.

Draco frantically crawled the few feet to the wall, away from Harry, just in time to vomit spectacularly, voiding his stomach of food and the bile that fear had brought. Through the heaves, sobs slipped in, and tears burned hot trails across his cheeks, dripping from his face alongside snot and bile. He was so tired. So very, very tired. Then he heard the noise of something scraping along the floor.

Harry was dragging himself to Draco’s side, eyes bloodshot and out of focus, but with the pained ghost of a smile on his face. Draco found it briefly funny that, at a moment like this, he was still possessed of enough vanity to feel embarrassed that Harry was looking at him snot-nosed, blood-stained, and bleary-eyed. Harry chuckled hoarsely. His voice was a jagged mess from the screams that Cruciatus had forced from him. He sounded like ash and gravel, but his words reached Draco’s heart as Harry propped himself against the wall.

“Glad…you could…make it, love. Too bad…y-you missed…the party in my head. Good news. N-no more Dark Lord…just…just someone…who hopes…you still love him.”

Draco wiped his mouth and chin on his pajama sleeve, sniffling and coughing for breath, then crawled to Harry, and curled himself into Harry’s arms, scrunched up between Harry’s long legs. Harry’s movements were jerky, and he couldn’t quite grasp Draco tightly, but that was the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Draco burrowed close into Harry’s warmth, still shivering as much from the cold as from the trauma he’d endured. Pajamas were almost useless in December, especially in London after midnight. He didn’t care that his flesh crawled from touch, all he wanted was Harry. He breathed in the scent of Harry’s sweat, and the faint aroma of the Burrow and the cheap soap that Harry always used. It smelled of home and safety and sanity, and these were things he craved desperately.

Draco closed his eyes and wept softly, and every so often Harry could hear Draco’s voice croak out promises of love, mingled with frantic apologies for the deceptions he’d committed.

Harry stroked the tangled blond locks gently, staring at the far wall with eyes that could barely focus, and tried to comfort Draco as much as his limited breath would allow.

“S’okay, love. I…I understand. I know, love. I know. You tried…tried to save me. In spite of everything, you…you came for me. I heard you, love. In my soul. I heard you. You…you gave me the strength, love. I think I’d have died…if it hadn’t been for you. I love you so much. Understand? I love you more than anything. Power, money, life…anything. I love you, Draco. Forever and always. I love you.”

The wards Harry had put in place to prevent escape by Rodolphus or his minions shattered. Shouts and booted feet could be heard everywhere. Aurors in full combat gear flooded into the building, and in less than half a minute it had been declared safe for non-combatants. The medical staff and investigative teams moved in, and behind them came Kingsley Shacklebolt and a full complement of specialists. Kingsley strolled up to Harry and Draco, nodded silently, then turned to face his crew.

“Ten minutes! I want this place spotless! I want every neighbor and even the damn cats in the alley Obliviated! No witnesses, no mess, nothing! Until I say something happened here, the word is NOTHING happened here! We’ll sort this out at headquarters, and I want Healers working on these two…NOW! Move it!”

Nymphadora Tonks marched up, towing the stabilized and magically bound form of Hyde-Pratt behind her.

“This one’s alive, Minister. I’m taking him to the Security cells as soon as we have him healed up. Full interrogation?”

Kingsley grimaced at the sight of Hyde-Pratt.

“Good. Get that trash out of my sight. And order a cavity search with that interrogation. Thorough. Tell them to keep reaching until they can feel the bastard’s teeth!”

Tonks gave Harry an amused and meaningful wink, and snapped a smart salute to Kingsley.

“Yes, sir!”

Harry didn’t even have the strength left to chuckle, but he was aware of spells being cast and heard potions being uncorked. The Healers were ready, and it would probably be a long, long night before they saw home again.

TBC!!!