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 68: From The Ashes


Harry sat, numb and quiet, pensive and full of restless thoughts that wouldn’t stop bubbling up through his conscious mind. What a week it had been. Now he was here, at Hogwarts, waiting for Draco to return. Currently, Draco was in the dungeon with Severus Snape, who had only just been invited back to Hogwarts and had taken up residence in his old suite less than two days ago. Harry was seated outside the Headmaster’s Office, and when Draco returned, they would be visiting Dumbledore’s portrait together. There were so many things that they both needed to say, but for now, all Harry could do was wait.

Surreal. Surreal was a good word for the days that had passed since the Solstice. In just two days the New Year would be rung in, and Molly was planning her celebration cautiously, aiming for something quieter than usual, since Draco would have a rather serious headache by then. Today, Severus Snape would be inspecting Draco’s mind carefully. This evening the procedure would be undertaken once again, and hopefully this time it would last until Draco had had many years to recover fully.

It hadn’t worked out badly at all, largely thanks to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who covered things handily with a well-stitched together mixture of truth and exaggeration, embellishment and omission. As far as the press knew, LeStrange’s gang had cooked up a mad, doomed scheme to revive the Dark Lord, and it involved the sacrifice of both other Death Eaters and innocent victims. Harry’s crimes had been neatly pinned on the rogue Death Eaters, and he hadn’t been charged at all.

In fact, Harry had been described in glowing terms by Kingsley, who slyly revealed that, since Harry was fond of Draco, the only surviving former victim of LeStrange’s, LeStrange had specifically called out Harry for a duel, and cited a few portions of LeStrange’s letter. Harry, of course, had defended his loved ones with exemplary courage, and had unfortunately been trapped by LeStrange using magic both ancient and black. Draco had come to the rescue, having found the letter and having figured out where Harry had gone, and promptly saved the day, just in time for the Aurors to show up and take in the remaining member of LeStrange’s crew. The subject of Horcruxes never emerged.

The Minister actually knew the entire story, but had allowed only Tonks and himself to conduct the interviews with Harry and Draco. Hyde-Pratt’s Veritaserum confession was attributed to the raving of an insane Death Eater, and the matter was buried in the filing cabinets of the Ministry. Once Kingsley knew that Harry had been burdened by the spirit of Voldemort…for two years!…he’d understood that Harry‘s conduct hadn’t been his fault, and the man took many steps to ensure that secrecy enveloped the truth. He also pulled a final favor for Draco, a peace offering of sorts, given the tension of their last meeting, and arranged for a Citation for Meritorious Service to the wizarding community.

The press ate it up. They had a love story with a touch of scandal, a dash of tragedy, a villain, and love conquering all. In a perfect about face, The Daily Prophet launched a series of reports and editorials regarding the killings and the eventual closing of the case, and Draco of all people, who had once been spat upon and kicked in Diagon Alley, was painted as the hero. Not that he didn’t deserve it and then some, but Harry supposed that it was just too early to expect the press to completely shift their opinion of him after calling him a murderer for a year. Besides…they’d been right.

Harry had a hard time with that part. He didn’t quite feel like talking about it just yet, but he’d needed nightmare wards just to sleep lately. With Voldemort gone, there was no haze to his memory anymore, and no influence pushing justifications into his conscious mind to excuse his actions. He had killed so many people. Even if they were Death Eaters, even if Voldemort had pushed from within, Harry had given Voldemort the trigger to push. He’d channeled that terrible and demonic rage into killing people he once believed were expendable. His hate and anger had cost dozens of people their lives, and his memories were newly full of cold-blooded executions and frenzied killing sprees. He’d done it all, and now he had to live with what he’d done.

He’d heard the death rattle in the throats of men and a few women. He’d been up to his elbows in gore, drenched in the blood of the people he’d slaughtered. Some of them had never done anything worse than hexing Muggles for sport. They’d fled the Ministry and Harry after the war, and the fear that they’d felt had cost them their lives. At the core of his being, Harry carried an enormous debt, and while it was surprisingly easy to forgive others for being human, he hadn’t found a way to forgive himself for unleashing such a dark and terrible hate upon the world. All that had kept Harry from falling into complete self-loathing and despair was Draco.

Draco had been remarkably chipper since that night. He was shaky as hell, and spooked easily without potions to calm him. He didn’t feel comfortable being surrounded by happy Weasleys who congratulated him and often had to be restrained to keep them from hugging him. In spite of all this, he tended to smile a lot, he laughed when a joke or mocking comment was made, and he seemed to have little or no fear of Harry, even though the touch of others terrified him and his sleep was still warded against nightmares along side Harry’s. Draco clung to Harry like a lifeline, as soothing as healing balm upon a painful wound, and almost constantly sought out physical closeness. Not sex…since he wasn’t ready for that by a long shot, but small symbols of intimacy like a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean against.

In some ways it was worrisome, since it seemed a little clingy, but Harry had no problem with that. These last few days it had been all he could do not to break down and throw himself at Draco’s feet while spouting praise. Draco knew how he felt, and they’d spoken several times when they had privacy, telling every last detail that they’d once kept from each other, and reasserting their desire to remain together. If Draco was clingy, then so was Harry, and he was already nervous just waiting upstairs without his boyfriend for an hour.

There had been much confusion in the aftermath of the Solstice, not the least of which took place at the Burrow. When Voldemort had passed on, his power had left the world as well, breaking the enchantment that kept the Burrow in stasis. Several small items had crashed to the ground, including framed pictures, and something had slipped loose in the old Weasley clock, likely a gear or spring, and when they found themselves moving again, there was no sign of Harry or Draco, just an open window in the boys’ bedroom and a lingering feeling of dread. Tonks was busy, but she did take time to have a clerk Firecall the Burrow and let them know what had happened. Molly had been in a state of panic until Harry and Draco returned home sometime near dawn, having spent the night answering question and receiving medical attention, while Kingsley worked out what to tell the press. Harry in particular had been a mess, since the aftereffects of a prolonged Cruciatus were extremely debilitating.

Harry had gotten the scolding of three lifetimes for haring off after Death Eaters on a whim, Draco caught hell for leaving the house in his pajamas, and the Burrow had been roused early for breakfast by Molly’s hysterical tone. After letting Molly vent, the whole story emerged, with the subject of Horcruxes carefully dodged, and the Weasley clan listened in awe as they realized that the last shred of Lord Voldemort had been carried in Harry’s soul all along. George in particular had little to say, uncharacteristically silent and thoughtful. The knowledge that revenge and brutality had been inspired by the Dark Lord’s presence had not set well with him, and that forgiveness and love had destroyed Voldemort forced a certain contemplativeness upon him. George and Fred exchanged looks that said ’We’ll talk later.’ and that was that, for now.

There had been happiness too. Dula had known more than he ever let on to Harry, and he privately congratulated both of them, also spending a lot time listening to Draco ramble sleepily about the Solstice night. Harry knew all of it. But there was a friendship between Dula and Draco that had grown stronger during the past two months, and it was good to see Draco trusting someone other than Harry with his innermost thoughts. After her initial fit of temper, Molly gushed and fretted over Harry and Draco like a mother hen, and for at least the first day after their return, every meal was served to them in bed. Just being seen in bed with Harry was enough to make Draco blush furiously, and there was a certain sense of relief that came as the Weasley family members who were visiting slowly departed one by one.

Bill and Fleur went back to their home first, with Percy departing shortly after. Charlie and Dula made their farewells and returned to the preserve, and Fred and George Flooed back to their apartment suite, leaving only Ron, who was now in the process of moving the contents of his flat back home. His new work only took up three hours a day, and Ron found himself picking up the slack and helping Molly clean up the decorations and put the rooms back in order, since Harry and Draco obviously couldn’t be asked to help in their current condition. This elicited a few good natured grumbles about ’gold-bricking layabouts’, but Harry knew perfectly well that Ron was kidding. They’d been teasing each other since they were eleven years old, and this was nothing new.

When they were finally feeling better, and Draco felt up to making the Firecall, he contacted Severus Snape, only to learn that he’d accepted the post of Professor at Hogwarts once again. The appointment was made, and while they waited they discussed Draco’s conversations with Albus Dumbledore’s portrait. It was then that it was decided. A meeting with the image of Dumbledore, which Harry had inexplicably avoided during the war and the years after, was long overdue. Harry understood now why he’d felt such hesitance about seeing Albus’ image. Voldemort had known full well that any advice from Albus would run counter to his interests, and Harry had been subtly influenced to avoid returning to Hogwarts. Now he found that he dearly missed the place, almost as much as he missed Albus himself.

It was all so clear in retrospect, what his old friend and mentor had tried to teach him. It was something that could only be experienced, not merely told or recited by memory. Love wasn’t a thing of books and formulas, it was thing that had to be lived and known in one’s heart to be understood. Albus had done all that he could to show Harry the little experiences and memories that held clues to Tom Riddle’s birth and formative years, but he could not make Harry understand how to express love in the face of anger and loss. Harry knew it wasn’t all his own fault. He’d been sixteen years old when the war broke out. His godfather, his mentor, Ginny and Hermione had all been killed in the conflict between Voldemort and Harry, and it had been so hard for him to accept those losses and move forward from them. In truth, he probably wouldn’t have been working through it this quickly…if it hadn’t been for Draco.

In Draco, Harry had found an equal, a partner, a mate and friend that was always at the forefront of his heart and mind, and who brought a new understanding of love that Harry could never have fully grasped without entering into a relationship as an adult and opening his heart completely. Draco had sacrificed everything to protect Harry, knowing that exposure of his plans might destroy any hope of continuing as Harry’s lover, and had fought and fought hard to break Voldemort’s hold on Harry. It was a rare person that could put the best interests of another ahead of their own desires, and Draco had done that and more. Harry knew he was far luckier than he had any right to be. He’d escaped death a dozen times and more, found a family of people who cared deeply for him, escaped possession or worse, and ultimately gained a friend, lover and confidant who was smart, beautiful, talented and wise. He’d always been lucky, even if it had been hard to tell sometimes, but this was good fortune of epic proportions.

Harry heard footsteps in the hall and flicked his head up eagerly. Draco rounded the corner, shaggy-haired and cheerful, if a little wistful, and promptly moved into place by Harry’s shoulder, neck craned for a quick kiss.

“Good news, love. Snape says it won’t be as bad the second time around. My brain adapted to having those wards in place, and it won’t give me headaches for more than a few hours when he puts them back up. He was fairly pissed about his work getting spoiled, but you know how he is.”

Harry sighed with relief. He hated the idea of Draco going through the entire process again, but he hated seeing Draco suffer even more.

“Thank Merlin. For that matter, thank Snape. I hate to admit it, but the man is good at what he does. I still can’t believe he’s back at Hogwarts. They have enough problems getting students back without hiring the man who killed the last Headmaster. Minerva has guts, but I still didn’t think she’d ever forgive him.”

“Come on, Harry. Don’t be lowbrow! You know Albus’ portrait has been in contact with Snape the entire time. Maybe he is a portrait, but he still has clout where it counts. You’re right about the parents though. I heard the early numbers for enrollment are way down. That reminds me…those of us who never finished our seventh year are entitled to ‘finishing classes’ and NEWT examinations when we wish. I’d like to come back next summer. It would only take a few months and I’d be certified and accredited. You might think about doing the same. Especially since it would be nice to pass notes or snog between classes. Just a few things I never really got to do properly while I was here. You know, tying up loose ends and the like.”

“God! I hadn’t even thought about that the last couple years. It’s taken so long to get this place staffed and open again. Maybe I should. I mean…I’ve got plenty of money, but I haven’t any idea what to do with the rest of life. I guess it would start with getting my NEWTs finished. Plus…hallway snogging…always good!”

The stone door clicked and opened for them, ending the conversation before Harry could make a few further comments about hallway snogging. Minerva McGonagall stepped out, prim and proper as always, but her eyes softened and a small smile creased her face when she looked upon Harry and Draco.

“Do come on in, lads. Albus has been in high spirits since he heard you were coming. Especially you, Harry. It’s long past time for you to have come for a visit. As for you, Draco, he’s spoken of you so much lately that we shall be very fortunate if he doesn’t unravel his canvas or tumble from the wall. I hope you don’t mind if I stay whilst you chat. I’ve finally moved into the office now that the school’s governors have seen fit to make my appointment permanent. I’m afraid I have a bit too much paperwork to do to simply toddle off for awhile, but there is fresh tea and some nice iced biscuits, if you’d like them?”

They thanked Minerva politely, and it didn’t really matter if she was there or not, and Harry had business that might well involve her too. The Dampener was no longer needed. Harry no longer felt a desire to keep such a temptingly powerful artifact to himself. It could remain one of Hogwarts resources, saved for some distant crisis. Harry had lost nearly half his power when Voldemort had finally left the world. Even so, he was still one of the most accomplished wizards of his day, as well as a gifted Legilimens and Occlumens. He had all the power anyone could want, and he had no desire for more.

Dumbledore was beaming down at them from his frame as soon as they entered. Harry had to admit that the capable looking, cheerful old wizard was comfortably reminiscent of the man he’d known through his adolescence, and not the tired and sickly Dumbledore of that last terrible year at Hogwarts.

“Harry! Draco! Bravo, boys! Bravo! Well done, indeed! I’ve missed you both so, and don’t be fooled by the oil and canvas…a portrait can worry too! I cannot tell you what it means to see you both hale and hearty again. I heard the joyful news only a few days ago, and I could scarcely wait to congratulate you. Poor Minerva, I suspect my prattling about it nearly moved her to ship my frame to the Weasley Burrow.”

Minerva smirked ever so faintly and poured tea for all, placing the tray of biscuits within easy reach.

Draco spoke first, sensing Harry’s reticence. “Thank you, sir. I don’t think any of this would have turned out so well if you hadn’t helped me the way you did. It was still fairly awful, but at last it's over…this time forever.”

Dumbledore looked faintly sad, and Draco was confused a moment, sensing some dire statement, until Harry spoke up.

“It’s never really over, is it, sir? There’s always someone, somewhere, who lets fear and hate rule their heart or mind. All we can do is try. Leave things better than we found them. Not perpetuate the cycle of hurt and revenge. It will last all of our lives, and the lives of children now, and their children…into infinity. That’s what he means, Draco.”

Dumbledore bowed quietly, looking very comforted by Harry’s words.

“You understand now. A single gesture of kindness can ripple throughout decades, and a solitary moment of cruelty or neglect can wreak untold harm for generations. Our world suffered under the threat of Tom Riddle for almost sixty years, because so many people could have made a difference, and did not. That you understand this, Harry, tells me how much you have gained…and how much you have lost. Suffice it to say, I could be no prouder of you if you were my own child. And you, Draco, as well.

The wisdom that has been born in each of you was brought into this world by pain, but its power will endure far longer than even the memory of that pain…if you use what you’ve learned wisely. Like Fawkes, who rises from the ashes of his own destruction, all the more beautiful for the flames he endured. Our only hope for a better world is in learning well from our mistakes, and then living what we learn. I learned long ago not to act rashly or with haste, but my occasional hesitation to act became the mistake that set Tom Riddle against the world, and ultimately, led to my own demise.

Every parent wishes better for their children than for themselves, and this I wish for you. Live well and wisely. Love freely and trust though it sometimes opens you to disappointment. Pursue your dreams, and let them be made into your reality. Be happy, and share that happiness with all you meet along the way.”

Draco was getting misty-eyed, and reached for a handkerchief from the desk. Harry nodded peacefully, and looked back to Albus’ image with a quiet look of regret.

“I’ve missed you. For a long time. Feels like longer than it really was. Thank you. For everything. For helping Draco, for everything you tried to teach me, and for everything you did for me to help me along the way. I never really got a chance to say, but I loved you too. The only thing I really regret about being raised in the Muggle world is that I didn’t meet you until I did, and then I only got a few years to know you before you weren’t here anymore. I can’t even count the number of times I wished I could hear your voice, or just ask you a question. You’re everything I thought I would want to be. I’m sorry I disappointed everyone. If I hadn’t been too young…or too stupid…”

Dumbledore cut Harry off with a gesture before Draco could interrupt.

“Harry. Too much was put upon you, at too young an age. However you may have erred along the way, the world is still here, and life is still as much as we make of it. We have you to thank for it all. The prophecy was clear, and if I could have found a way to keep you from harm, I would have, but you were our only hope…and you have by far exceeded all our expectations. Have a good life, Harry. You earned it. And don’t let me hear you chiding yourself…or I’ll have Minerva send my frame to your house!”

Draco smiled and held back a chuckle. “You know you’ll always be welcome if the scenery here bores you.”

Harry pulled the Dampener from his pocket and held it out to Minerva.

“Here. Put this behind glass and write ’open in case of emergency’ on it. I won’t be needing this anymore. No one needs that much power. Besides, I already have the only thing I could ever need.”

His shy, sidelong glance toward Draco wasn’t missed, and Draco broke form and kissed Harry right through McGonagall’s tsk-ing noises and Dumbledore’s chuckles.

They whiled away a few hours with good company before returning to the Burrow and waiting for Severus’ arrival. The New Year would be a blessed time, with Draco’s memories warded once again, and a world of possibility stretching endlessly in front of them. The New Year would come soon enough, and with it came the hope for better days. At least now they were easy to believe in.

TBC!!!