After the war was over

PART EIGHT – MENDING WHAT WAS BROKEN


Severus was sitting in front of the fire, when Remus came over to join him. He handed Severus a whisky made just how he liked it. A nice peaty malt with a touch of ice. A silence fell between them, one which was not terribly comfortable.

Severus found himself unaccountably jealous that Remus had had Harry all to himself for all these years; it was ridiculous he knew that, but he resented Remus for the fact that he had known that Harry was alive and had told no one. He should really mind most for Ron and Hermione, but he found that he minded most for himself. He and Harry had been getting on so well, he was rapidly becoming very fond of his nephew and his little family and he should have that for years now not just a few days.

Harry and Draco had disappeared again. But this time everyone knew they were safe because Hedwig had come winging in through the kitchen window to the midst of a happy throng with a note telling everyone that the two men were ’getting to know each other again’ and that they would be back in a few days. The children had expressed their disappointment over the loss of their beloved elf very vocally indeed but seemed rather less bothered about the fact that their father was missing too. They seemed to believe that he would turn up soon enough, after all he had gone away for a few days often enough before.

The evening had basically become one long party and Grimmauld place had been fuller that night than it had since the bad old days of the Blacks. Bill had been made interim Minister of Magic, a role suggested by the remorseful Barnaby Bartholomew and Molly Weasley had not stopped sobbing and hugging anything that moved ever since.

Tonks had applied the potion that Harry promised would cure Bill’s scars and they were nearly all gone now. There was just a trace of scarring on his cheeks. She had told everyone that whilst the “Wolfscure Potion” as it was known had been in existence for some eight months the lotion had only been perfected a week ago and Bill was the first person outside France to try it. Fleur was ecstatic, she had her husband back, he was as handsome as ever and he was Minister for Magic!

The house was full of children, seemingly hundreds of little Weasleys were mingling with Harry’s children and chasing each other in and out of rooms and generally causing mayhem. Finally Molly and Fi had called a halt to the evenings proceedings and roped a few of the adults in to help with bedtime. Ron in his ‘Ginger Bear’ persona was immensely popular but so, to his great surprise was Severus.

The Weasleys avoided him on principal – the principal that he was a bad tempered snarky git, according to George - but the Potter-MacLeod’s loved him and he found himself designated storyteller surrounded by a whole hoard of small people. Cuddled up on a large bed, in what he was told was Harry’s room he was handed a Roald Dahl book by Rory and informed that it was Caitie and Calum’s favourite and Finn’s third favourite story. So with a twin snuggled into each arm and Finn tucked on his lap, and several small Weasleys at a slightly safer distance he began to read all about Sophie and the BFG in his smooth moderated tones.

"I is the only nice and jumbly Giant in Giant Country! I is THE BIG FRIENDLY GIANT! I is the BFG." He paused only to help a little Weasley girl – one of Charlie’s he thought, in her mission to climb further up his leg in order to better hear the story and carried on reading until Harry’s vast bed was full of sleeping children.

But now all the children were finally fast asleep and the adults excited chatter had quietened. They were slowly gathering around the fireplace in the cozy red sitting room to hear Remus’ story and find out exactly why he and Tonks had kept Harry from them for so long.

“The Harry you see today is not the one that I took from the manor,” began Remus. “ As you know when Harry disappeared we were all desperate to find his whereabouts, we knew he was with Voldemort but we did not know where his headquarters were. I had gone undercover with the werewolves, hoping desperately that I was not too late to help him, but when I did get there I was certain that I was indeed too late and Harry was about to die.

Voldemort was torturing him, you know that Severus,” he said turning toward the potions professor as he spoke.” You had not appeared yet and Voldemort had just used a spell in parseltongue which had affected Harry’s hearing, he was bleeding from both his ears and screaming in what must have been agony and I knew that I couldn’t go to him, that I had to wait my chance, but I will never forget those screams…… I have never seen anything so dreadful, so heartbreaking as what that evil bastard was doing to Harry.”

He paused for a moment staring into space and then took a sip of water before continuing in a somewhat husky voice.

“Then you arrived Severus and when you drew your wand I was convinced for a moment that you were going to kill him but you didn’t, you communicated using Legilimency didn’t you?” And at Severus’s curt nod, “ I thought so because all at once Harry who had been slumped over only moments before suddenly stood up straight and challenged Voldemort and then the battle began, Harry had already sent you and Draco to safety by then and finally he and Voldemort began battling in earnest but after what seemed like an eternity when they were both sending a stream of curses at each other everything stopped. Even Harry is not sure about what happened then, I couldn’t hear him speaking anymore, it was eerie, everything was frozen the Death Eaters, me and Harry and Voldemort. It was as if time had stood still and yet I knew somehow that everything was going on in their minds, that Harry and Voldemort were somehow linked together and that that is where the battle was raging.

Then Harry shouted that Voldemort couldn’t have anyone else, I think you all heard that?” Several people nodded that indeed they had, none of them had ever forgotten the words that Harry had shouted, just before the end of the battle, Remus continued. “I think he could still hear at that point, for some reason Voldemort’s spell took a while to work. But after Harry spoke all the Death Eaters started to scream and Harry did too. Then there was a blast of white light and a surge of magic and Harry started to collapse.

Harry was falling and so was the building all around us and I knew that if I didn’t get him out he was going to die, we all were. So I ran, climbed, scrambled, past men who were screaming and begging me to help them until I got to Harry. He was already half buried in fallen masonry and I had to dig him out with my bare hands, when I got to him, he was barely breathing. He was so light that I could easily lift him, so I did and then I apparated to Fi’s croft because it was the safest place I could think of to go.”

Remus had closed his eyes for a moment; he obviously found it hard to relive that day. It was clear to anyone looking at him that the years had been good to Remus. The shabby, poverty stricken werewolf that Severus remembered was gone for good, as was that rather unassuming, apologetic air that Remus had used to project to the world. This man was used to making things happen, he was used to being in control, to getting things done and being obeyed with out question, how on earth had that come about Severus wondered.

Ron said, “What do you mean Remus?” He was getting cross, Severus could tell, keeping a lid on his temper “ What do you mean the safest place? What about my house? What about Hogwarts? We’d have kept him safe, how could you take him away from us?”

This was exactly what Severus wanted to know, if Harry had been there maybe he would not have spent two years in Azkaban, Draco would not have gone missing. Scrimgeour would not have gotten the hold over the wizarding world that he had. Lupin had a lot to answer for in Severus’ opinion.

But it was Tonks that answered. “You didn’t see him Ron, we weren’t even sure that he was going to live and once we’d got him to Tigh na Creaga, Fi’s house, it was too dangerous to move him. I was an auror then, and you know what it is like, you hear things? Well I had heard that Scrimgeour had an advisor, someone who told him what to do, someone who hated Harry. You see he was already working with Umbridge and she certainly had it in for the Chosen One!”

“But we’d have protected him, we’d have kept him safe!” Ron shouted, “Madam Pomfrey could have helped, Mum could have?”

“No Ron.” Tonks answered gently, “You could not. Severus was in prison within hours of the final battle. Hogwarts was not safe. Had Dumbledore been alive maybe it would have been different.” She sent an apologetic glance to Minerva, who nodded back at the metamorphmagus. “But no one else could have kept Scrimgeour away. You have seen how it has been in the last few weeks, the last few years. If he had gotten hold of Harry back then who knows what might have happened to him? He wasn’t the powerful man you see today, he was a broken sixteen year old boy, who was very vulnerable and who had lost his magic.”

“There was always the burrow.” Said Ron, stubbornly, a great bear of a man speaking in such quiet tones

“Think about it Hon?” Tonks continued. “There is no way Harry’s presence could have been kept quiet for very long, too many people coming and going. No, I can’t say I completely agreed with Remus at the time, but in hindsight there was no other choice. Harry was so very ill for so long, he couldn’t communicate, couldn’t eat, he’d been starved, anything we fed him came right back up. For a while we were convinced that we were going to lose him. It was Iona that came up with the final solution and we fed him a diluted version of what Muggles give to girls that have that anorexia.”

“But Nymphadora, I mean no offence towards Fi and Iona,” commented Minerva, “how could you be sure that Muggles could help him? He was a wizarding child and so many of his injuries were caused by magical means weren’t they?”

Yes, they were.” Remus this time, “But I had known Fi all of my life, Iona and I grew up together, they knew all about magic and I knew that Harry would be safe, but I did not expect them to cure Harry, I had my secret weapon, and here he smiled at Tonks.”

“Of course,” Hermione breathed, “Andromeda!”

And Severus remembered, Tonks’ mother was a healer, a very good one come to that. She had never advanced very far at St Mungos because of the prejudice that she had suffered either for marrying a Muggle or being a Black, and those who despised her or gossiped about her had effectively stifled her career and so Andromeda had made a living working with Muggles. She was also one of the few people Severus had ever met who was almost as skilled at potions as he and Lily had been, then Severus knew without a doubt who had been responsible for Wolfscure.

“Yup,” resumed Tonks, “my mother. Fi is a trained nurse and she was able to provide the day-to-day care that Harry needed, Mum provided the expertise and the potions, but it still took a long time for Harry to begin to get well again. We discovered later when he began to speak that his memories had been decimated, he had no happy memories left at all and he had no idea who I was, and only remembered that Remus was a werewolf. For a long time he screamed and tried to get away whenever Remus went near him, but slowly we convinced him that he was safe and that Remus would never hurt him.

“All he could talk about at first was his dragonfly. “Libellule” was the first word he spoke, the first sentence was “Ou’ est ma Libellule? J’ai besoin de ma Libellule!”

(Where is my dragonfly? I need, my dragonfly!).

“Time and time again he asked and none of us, not even Harry really, had any idea what he was talking about.

“Mhairi, found him a glass dragonfly one day that a local artist made and we hung it in his window, he would lay and look at it for hours on end with the tears streaming down his cheeks, nearly broke your heart it did.”

“Harry remembered,” Remus interjected, “The day that you were arrested he remembered that Draco was his dragonfly. I don’t know the full story behind it, we’ll have to wait for Harry to tell us, if he ever does, but somehow when he finally got together with Draco he remembered everything. He says he has still got memories missing, but he remembers so much more than he did, he remembered me, and Tonks and he remembers you two.” He said looking at Ron and Hermione. “I don’t know how, but Draco was some sort of key.”

“He had been looking for Draco for years,” Tonks continued “we first set up the Lenoir Foundation by accident, Harry had developed this love for all things French and he sometimes spoke in French, he always did when he talked about his dragonfly, but he didn’t know why, he couldn’t remember.

“Iona had contacted a colleague and we all learning BSL, that’s British Sign Language, because it was so much easier than having to write everything down for Harry and we were telling him about the persecutions that were taking place. He had been with us for three months by then, and he was horrified with what was happening to Slytherins, to anyone that disagreed with Scrimgeour. So he came up with the idea of the Black Foundation, to help folk.

“Only with his new love of everything French he called it The Black Foundation, in French. Fondation Lenoir. Within a couple of months, three at the most, he had made me and Remus directors, we got titles, a salary everything. Harry took nothing from the money for himself, he said the Potter’s were plenty rich enough for him, but thought that Sirius would be delighted to have his money used in such a way.

“It was over a year before he could really participate in the organisation, but we got good practice at signing and he got good practice at lip reading when we would tell him about who we had helped each day. Slowly over the years the small businesses that we invested in prospered, until today the Lenoir Foundation must be one of the richest, most influential companies in the wizarding world.

“There was just one thing that bothered him in all those years and that was Draco Malfoy. Harry felt that Remus as one of Sirius’ oldest friends and me as one of the last of the house of Black should benefit from and administer the money that Sirius left him, but he always held a place open for Draco. There still is a job, an office and twelve years of back pay waiting for him. Whatever they decide after their time alone together, Draco Malfoy is a very rich man.”

“Of course at the time I wondered why Harry was so desperate to find Draco. I put it down to his sense of justice, but now I think that even though he did not know why Harry has been searching for Draco for the last twelve years.

“We had been planning his return, for quite some time and would have come back a couple of years ago, but then Mairi died, and Harry was prostrate with grief, and he had a small baby to look after, and the rest of the children.

“But then you and Draco were arrested and luckily everything that Harry had planned was ready to go into action, and the rest as they say is history…”

Silence fell in the sitting room. There was just the sound of crackling of the flames in the hearth, to fill the quiet, while everyone thought about what they had been told. Tonks leaned against Remus and he reached down to caress her cheek. They had told their story now, and all the years of hiding, of intrigue were over for them. Severus stood and left the room, he felt overcome with sadness, for Harry for Draco, for himself. He made his way to Harry’s bedroom where he stood in the doorway for a long time watching Harry’s children sleeping, and Severus felt the stirrings in his heart of something he had not felt for a very long time, and he knew all at once that that feeling was hope.


*****************************************


They were not in England Draco knew that. He suspected that they were in southern Europe, given the warm, yellowed brightness of the sun. They were in front of a house, a beautiful mellow building with blue-grey shutters and window frames and white stucco walls covered in mimosa. They were in a garden, surrounded by a high sandstone wall, with bright potted geraniums all around them, in terracotta pots, scattered on all the windowsills, bright red flowers against the cool blue.

“Where are we Harry?” Draco asked,

“Harry?

"Harry?”

But Harry did not answer and Draco realised that Harry had not heard him, he had been standing behind him when they apparated with his arms wrapped around Draco’s more slender frame. If Harry could not see his mouth or read his hands then he could not hear him. Draco felt a wave of sadness for Harry’s lost sense. To not be able to hear the birdsong that surrounded them, to be unable to listen to the sounds of his children’s voices calling to each other, laughter, music, the sound of the sea. All of these things were forbidden to Harry. Forever.

Hermione of course had not given up and had told Draco that she was searching for a magical solution. But Harry had told her that he had already tried everything, that his cochlear had been totally destroyed, his eardrums rent asunder, Harry was permanently, irrevocably deaf.

Draco spun around to face his rescuer and took his face in both his hands as he had seen Flora do to her father.

“Harry,” he said, “where are we?”

“Well we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Harry replied, with an evil grin

Draco raised one eyebrow and Harry continued. “We are in the South of France some thirty kilometres from Libourne. This is my house, it is private here, peaceful. The children and Fi and I come whenever we can. There is a pool and an orchard. and beehives and a tree house for the children in that gnarled old tree over there.

“Come on I want to show you around.” and he grabbed Draco’s hand to lead him wherever he was planning to go. Draco followed the excited man as best he could, but his injured leg restricted him so he had to limp in the wake of the ball of energy that was Harry. Harry frowned and turned to see what the problem was, suddenly remembering Draco’s leg, he swept him up into his powerful arms and into the beautiful aged house.

Up rough well-worn stone steps Harry carried him. Holding him as if he were costly beyond measure and fragile beyond repair. Into a dark hall that danced with warm shadows chasing each other across aged, oaken boards, Cradling Draco in his arms Harry went from room to room, explaining as he did so: this is the sitting room, where we read in the evenings, this the playroom where the children like to play, this is the study where I have to work sometimes, until finally they went into a room set for dining, and this is where we will eat tonight."

He placed Draco carefully in one of the pine carver chairs that surrounded the long cloth covered table and turned away. Draco looked around the elegant room in which they were sitting, plainly furnished with dark furniture and vases of flowers. He shrugged off the cloak that Harry had conjured, as it was far too warm to wear such a garment in here.

“Dobby,” Harry called, “where are you?” Suddenly, there in front of him was a house elf wearing a beautifully pressed, hideously coloured, striped cotton jersey.

“Master Harry Potter Sir wanted Dobby?” Squeaked the elf. “Master is back!”
Then he leapt to one side looking stricken. “Oooh he has a Malfoy with him! Malfoy’s are bad to elves, wicked to elves.”

To Draco’s astonishment he saw that the elf was signing as he spoke, it would obviously be too difficult for Harry to read his lips. But they had got around that problem and seemed to have no problems communicating.

“Hush Dobby, it’s alright, this is my Malfoy and he will not hurt you.”

The house elf looked dubious, “but I know this Malfoy, Master Harry Sir, he was a bad child, he hurt house elves!” This last said with a gimlet glare aimed at Draco.

And all at once Draco recognised him, this was the house elf his father had lost to Harry. He could remember Lucius ranting about it, several years ago now. Draco had never been particularly nasty to the house elves although he and his friends had practiced one or two stunning spells on them when they were children. He had never meant any harm, he had believed it the right thing to do and his father encouraged the children’s games. Lucius despised elves and thought them nasty servile little creatures. This one belonged to Harry however, and obviously worshipped his master and Draco now knew what it felt like to be treated cruelly when you were defenseless and weak, so he took it upon himself to try and make friends.

“I am sorry, Dobby if my father offended you, if I hurt you. I was a child who should have known better” he said quietly. “But I am truly sorry and I will not hurt you now, I promise. I am not my father.”

The elf continued to eye him warily but he nodded once, as if to say that it would be okay and then turned to see what Harry had required.

Harry asked the elf for some food and then sat beside Draco, talking to him quietly, telling him about his life and his children, about Mhairi and how he had loved her and how she had died and how lonely he was sometimes. And Draco did not tell him that he knew all this already, because he had followed Harry around since his return, drinking in any crumb of information about his Harry that he could come across and storing it away in his memory for when he was alone.

But as Harry continued and they ate the delicious, thick cassoulet and crusty bread and drank the icy cold beer that the house elf had provided, Draco realised that he really didn’t know anything. Because this time he was hearing things from Harry’s perspective and learning more about how his beloved felt about his life and his children and everything else, everything except him.


And as the evening wore on and Harry told him all about his life and the final battle and how injured he had been. He concluded his story by relating what Remus and Tonks had just finished telling their friends who were gathered back in Grimmauld Place.

Draco sat and listened and played with the cuffs that Harry had transfigured, wondering just why they made him feel so safe and treasured and he put off the time that he would have to reciprocate for as long as he could.

Then finally, screwing up his courage Draco told his story. He spoke carefully and slowly and once or twice he had to repeat things when Harry obviously did not understand.

He was not kind to himself. He told Harry how he had become a drug addict and a whore, how he had been beaten and raped on several occasions and how Ron had found him selling himself in Knockturn Alley and returned him to Hogwarts where he had struggled against the odds to build a new life. When he finished he was almost frightened to look at Harry and see the scorn and disgust that he was sure would be there.

But he steeled himself, screwed his eyes closed and then opening them met the eyes of the man that he loved beyond anything else. And Harry’s eyes were filled with tears; he was on his feet and within the beat of a heart held Draco once again in his arms. Kissing him passionately as though he wanted to devour him.

“Libellule,” he whispered, “will you come to bed with me? Will you let me make love to you? Will you let me make you mine?” A sob caught in Draco’s throat then and a single tear meandered down his cheek,

“Oh yes Harry,” he whispered, nodding to reinforce the message, so that there could be no doubt. “Yes please.”

So Harry carried him up crooked stairs to a bedroom that was filled with evening light, the windows were open wide to let in a sweet summer zephyr, which set the curtains pirouetting like ballerinas in the gentle breeze. Then he was gently lowered onto a wrought iron bed that was dressed in crisp white linen and Chantilly lace, piled high with French pillows.

Harry looked at him as if he were the most precious thing that he had ever seen. He sat astride him pinning him to the mattress took Draco’s face in his hands and bending down captured his lips with yet another firm, possessive kiss and Draco thought he might melt, dissolve with the pleasure of it.

Then painstakingly, slowly, as if he were more special to him than anything that he had ever known, Harry undressed him, removing each shabby garment with care, vanishing them where necessary, taking his time, caressing him, touching him, gazing upon him with wonder in his eyes. The only thing he did not remove were the cuffs and chain that he had fashioned and that Draco had almost forgotten he was wearing, these he draped over a wrought iron curlicue on the bedstead as he whispered. “Do not struggle, Libellule, I will make it all better.”

Finally Draco was completely naked, he felt like he were a present that had been unwrapped, the most precious gift that Harry had ever had or wanted or needed. Harry began to stroke his limbs, run his hands along them and as he did a warmth seemed to settle inside Draco, chasing away chills that he had not known were there. Along his chest, down each arm and over his stomach, kneeling beside Draco, intent on him and him alone, Harry ran his hands up and down Draco’s body. Next his groin, now his legs, now his feet, now his toes and it was only when Harry returned to caressing Draco’s left lower leg that he realised what he was doing. Slowly, lovingly, tenderly Harry was healing Draco, his dragonfly.

He was removing the needle marks, the scars and the bruises, mending the wounds of the last twelve years and taking away the pain and when he had finished Draco was bathed in light and wrapped in love. He was breathing gently, calmly, he felt safe and cared for and knew deep inside himself that Harry wanted him, and only him, forever, and at long last Draco Malfoy, broken beyond repair for so very long was finally healed.

“Oh Harry, Harry!” he breathed, “please take me, make love to me, make me yours.” And finally after all that time, all those years and missed opportunities, the loss and the pain that both had suffered since they had first clung to each other in that cellar so long ago. After all the waiting, all the separation, Harry did.


He caressed him first, running his hands along Draco’s newly healed skin, then he lowered his head to lick and suck Draco’s nipples, his soft, velvety hair brushing Draco’s cheek. As he nibbled his way down his lover’s body Draco wriggled beneath him he wanted to touch his lover too, stroke his skin too and caress him in return, but Harry seemingly would have none of it.

Draco he seemed to have decided was going to feel nothing but pleasure, was going to be taken, possessed and there was nothing Harry’s little dragonfly could do about it. So when Draco struggled weakly he nipped his ear with his strong white teeth and growled low in his throat, chuckling to himself, showing that he loved it when Draco squirmed.

Draco pleaded, begged and whimpered, before finally giving himself completely to pleasure, realising that Harry could not hear him, but doubting that he would be released even if Harry could somehow be made aware of his pleas.

Harry had reached his navel now and he darted his tongue in and out, nibbling at the rim, sucking hard at the skin below. He was leaving a little trail of love bites as his mouth continued its ministrations until, reaching Draco’s cock he opened his mouth wide and damn near swallowed it whole.

This time Draco did scream long and loud, arching his back and tugging against his restraints. But Harry was not planning on releasing him any time soon that Draco could see. He was instead inserting a finger into Draco’s anus and gently stroking the tight passage until he found what he was looking for, Draco’s prostate. Which he continued to tease until Draco thought he would explode and came screaming into Harry’s mouth.

Harry smiled at him then like the cat that had got the cream. He was licking his lips with obvious pleasure and manoeuvring himself so that he was poised to come inside his lover. This time he lifted Draco up so that he could reach his thighs, which he proceeded to continue licking and nibbling.

Draco continued to beg and squirm and scream he had never felt pleasure like this before. If he did not know his inner thighs were so sensitive, how in the fuck did Harry? But then all coherent thought was driven from him as Harry bit him, not breaking the skin, just marking him, telling the world to whom he belonged.

Draco’s brains felt like they had turned to mush when all at once Harry was inside him, filling him, fucking him hard. Draco’s eyes, flooded with tears of pleasure and made blurry by lust looked up at his lover to see that Harry too was lost to desire, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, cheeks pink with the effort of the hard fucking, and Draco thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Still Harry continued keeping up the punishing rhythm, filling his emptiness, pounding into him with what seemed almost like desperation, as if he wanted all of him to be inside Draco along with his cock. Then Harry’s bright green eyes sprang open and looked at his lover with such desire, such possessiveness that Draco was undone. And he came screaming for the second time, this time synchronizing his orgasm with Harry’s.

Harry had finally dissolved the chain that held him to the bedstead but left the cuffs on Draco’s wrists much to Draco’s delight. “That is to show the world that you are mine,” he growled possessively in Draco’s ear, and then, with slight concern. “You are okay with that?”

And all Draco would do was nod shakily, with tears of joy pricking at the corners of his eyes. Later they showered together, and for the first time in many years Draco was not ashamed of his body.

The scars had vanished; the needle tracks, the cuts from where Draco had gone through a period of self-harm. But more than that, than all of that, Draco’s leg was no longer damaged or twisted, it was straight and strong and true. He could walk as well as any man, but he knew he would not object if Harry decided to carry him sometimes he thought with a secret smile.

In fact the only marks left anywhere on his body now were the bite marks and love bites left by Harry in his passion and these would be gone all too quickly. But then he supposed Harry could refresh them at any time he wanted, and he realised with a thrill that Harry would probably want to do just that.

He found his hands running over Harry’s body, as they stood under the powerful jets of water, he reached for the soap and rubbing it to a lather he put it aside and started to massage the broad strong back of the man beside him.

Moving round he ran his hands over the firm muscles, the hard flat stomach, he dropped to his knees and this time he sucked Harry’s hard cock into his mouth, delighting in the scream that he managed to coax, now that it was his turn to take charge. But once Harry had come screaming to Draco’s ministrations he grabbed him up and carried a naked squirming, dripping wet Malfoy to the bed, where he fucked him all over again.

Finally, when neither of them had any energy left for sex, Draco laid himself half on top of Harry and taking his face in his hands once more, said.

“Tell me about your memories Harry, tell me how you remembered. Why did you come for me?”

So as they lay curled together, relaxed and sleepy, Harry told Draco the story that until now no one else had known but him.

“Voldemort was attacking my mind, destroying my memories, and not just destroying them but distorting them, raping them as they…..as they raped my body. But this was worse. The things that they had done to me, he projected, inserted them into my memories of Ron, Hermione the others and I could not, would not let him do that to you. If he had you Draco, if he had gotten to you, even in my mind, it would have destroyed me. But I did not know how to stop him, I couldn’t stop him. He was so powerful, so vicious.

I had had some training from Severus, but.” Here Harry hung his head, “It did not work out, I did not try and that….that is why Sirius died too.” There were tears in Harry’s eyes now and Draco longed to kiss them away, but Harry was still speaking and he did not want to distract his lover so he lay his head on Harry’s shoulder and listened.

“I did not know how to Occlude and I was trying to keep him out. I was throwing memories at him, hurling them, retreating, hiding you as best I could but all the time he was coming closer. And then I thought of the story that you used to tell me, the one about the sleeping princess and I thought of the barrier of thorns and the castle and I knew what I had to do, but I also knew he could see what I was thinking so I switched to French.

“I started to sing in my mind, over and over.

“Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, dormez vous, dormez vous, sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, ding, dang, dong, ding, dang, dong.

“It was childish, preposterous, to sing a children’s song, whilst my mind was being attacked by a dark lord. But it confused him and he stopped, just for a second, he was perplexed and behind the song I built a castle. A huge castle with turrets and flags, and battlements and inside I put you and Hermione and Ron and everyone I cared about that still was left, and all around it I wove a hedge, a thicket, of thorn and briar rose, hawthorn and bramble. And when it was finished the hedge was thick and impenetrable and he could not pass through and all the time I thought, “rappelle-toi ta Libellule, N’oublie-pas ta Libellule.” Remember your dragonfly, do not forget your dragonfly and I knew that you were safe.

“Voldemort didn’t destroy my memories, I hid them, I hid you all.

“What I did not realise was that I had woven a spell I was too young, too inexperienced to know what I had done. But I did know that after the battle I would find you and the magic would be broken, just like in the story Draco, broken with the kiss of my one true love. My Prince. But then I did not find you. I did not even know where to look for you, or even what I was looking for all I knew was that you were lost.

For years I got flashes, glimpses of faces, of voices. But they always danced out of reach. Mhairi did look extraordinarily like you, you know, but you are very different people. I think that maybe when I first fell in love it was because she felt familiar, then I loved her for herself and her face was not overlaid with yours anymore. But you were always there somewhere Draco, like an echo of a memory.

Because I was repeating “remember your dragonfly” to myself time and time again, I did remember it, I did not know what it was, or why I needed to find my Libellule, I just had this compulsion to find it, to keep searching until I did. And because of the song, because I was using French to distract Voldemort, I remembered French too. In fact Remus told me that the first words I spoke were in French.

My mind left clues you see, I left clues, I just did not have enough information to decipher them.”

And Draco was sobbing now, openly, brokenly as if his heart would be rend in two. So Harry took his lover into his arms and shushed his tears, and stroked his hair just like he had from his cage all those years ago,

“Hush little dragonfly, don’t cry. Its okay now, all okay. You woke me up with your kiss my sweet, brave prince. I have found you and you are never, never” (this said quite savagely through clenched teeth) “leaving me again.”

But Draco’s heart ached for the boy that Harry had been, desperately trying to protect the things, the people that he loved, from the murderous onslaught of a monster.

How was he to know that the spell he had woven was so strong that it would not dissolve on its own, that it would wait twelve long years for him to find his Dragonfly?

Cruel wicked fate that had kept them apart for so long, for so many years, when just a moment together would have been enough.

Then Draco remembered, Flora and how she had brought them together, how he had made his way to Harry’s bed, thinking him badly injured. Not knowing that Harry had searched for him even though he did not really understand what he was searching for. And how he had been unable to resist leaning over and placing a kiss on his lover’s lips. Once again the words that he had said to Harry so long ago played in his head

“The Prince stood gazing at his princess at her golden locks and the long silvery lashes that curled on her blushing cheeks and the Prince could not help himself, so he leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on curved, crimson lips, and as he did she drew a breath and opened eyes that filled with love and the magic that had bound them all was destroyed because the bravery and love of one man had set them free and they would never again be enslaved. And they all lived happily ever after”

The locks were raven, not golden, the lashes coal black not silver and the princess was another prince. But Harry had used his story this fairytale and woven magic that had ultimately led to the destruction of the most evil wizard who ever lived.

Harry was sleeping now, his breathing was even and his eyes closed, but he had his arm wrapped firmly around Draco, holding him tight, and Draco knew that he was finally where he had wanted to be for a very long time in the bed, in the arms of the man he loved.


****************************************



Draco remembered those precious four days that they had together in every detail for the rest of his life; in all his long, long life there were indeed many such memories, but those days, those precious days were the ones that healed him.

He woke the next morning to Harry’s kisses, the morning sun was streaming in the window and he gazed up into verdant bright green eyes, beautiful bright green eyes. Harry was speaking, but whatever he said was lost to Draco as the suddenly sound of church bells drowned out the morning birdsong. But Harry didn’t seem to notice, so Draco covered his ears and did a mock Quasimodo routine, mouthing “the bells, the bells!!” and rolling his eyes. Harry looked puzzled for a second and then laughed, he turned to Draco and started speaking rapidly and just for a second Draco felt like had been bathed in ice. This must be what it was like for Harry, all the time, seeing lips moving but not understanding what was being said.

But Draco’s dismay must have shown on his face because Harry had strode back across the room grabbed him in his arms and was kissing him passionately, then the church bells stopped and the ringing Draco’s ears seemed to carry on but whether it was from the bells or from Harry’s kisses it was hard to tell.

“I wanted to wake you first,” Harry said. “I forgot to warn you about the bells yesterday, everyone says they terrify the life out of them unless they are warned in advance!” Then with his head on one side, “Why so sad Libellule?”

“Your hearing Harry,” Draco said with a sob, “your poor ears!”

But Harry was still smiling, “don’t worry, Dragonfly, I’m fine. I got used to it a very long time ago. I have my family, my health, my magic and now.” He smiled down at Draco, “Now I have you too,”

And once again he was kissing his lover, only this time he had tangled his hand in Draco’s hair and was claiming his mouth, desperately, passionately and Draco didn’t think about anything for a while.

But later, after they had made love and showered, and Harry had carried him back to bed and kissed him some more, he did think about it. This was how Harry got through life, how he had dealt with the terrible things that had happened to him, he tried to see things in a positive light, it was almost, what was the name of that wretched book…? Oh yes Pollyannaish the way he seemed to act sometimes.

But Draco knew that there was an awful lot more to Harry than groundless optimism. Harry truly did see himself as blessed, he did not feel that his loss of hearing had stopped him from doing any of the things that he liked to do so he dismissed it as “can’t be helped” and just got on with life. In fact sometimes he even seemed to make a virtue of his disability.

Now was a case in point. He had suggested that Draco might like to stay in bed because he was going to go to the nearest village on this battered old bicycle that he had once found in the shed and get them fresh croissants and bread, and off he had bounded, because he definitely did boundsometimes, so Draco had gotten up and trailed after him wrapped only in a sheet to see this famous bicycle and then fallen about laughing at the ramshackle piece of junk that Harry was brandishing.

“Aha, blaggard!” Harry shouted, “you will be sorry when I return with the goods!” And he clambered aboard the strange contraption and peddled off in a wobbly fashion.

Draco had gone back to bed then, smiling to himself contentedly and he must have fallen asleep again because this time when he woke, he was laying propped on pillows and tied spread-eagled and Harry was sitting astride him waving a razor and wearing an evil grin and very little else. “I fancy breakfast my love,” Harry growled, “and you are a little….hairy! But I suggest you stay still as I am not very good with this.”

Draco screamed as Harry covered his nether regions with thick foamy cream and started to shave. Ten minutes and quick scourgify later Draco’s cock and balls were completely hairless and Harry had proceeded to feed him warm milky coffee and crumbly honey covered croissants before dribbling more honey over his chest and nipples and down past his navel until he reached Draco’s cock which was soon slathered with even more of the sticky stuff. Then he sat back to admire his handy work for a moment or two.

All the time that Harry had been busy Draco had been screaming and pleading and Harry had completely ignored him by the simple expedient of not looking at him. He had just hummed tunelessly to himself as he worked and occasionally stroked various parts of Draco’s anatomy comfortingly as he futilely tried to struggle

“You do look beautiful my love!” Harry said smugly. “I am quite hungry now after all that exercise, I think I should eat!” And with that he spent the next wee while licking and sucking at Draco’s chest and nipples until he was literally begging for Harry to come inside him. But Harry just carried on grinning evilly and licking and nibbling his way down Draco’s body until he reached his lover’s engorged cock, which he also covered in honey and then devoured it as if it were a lollypop.

Draco came, harder than he had in his entire life, and then he had been pulled down the bed, released from his ankle restraints and found Harry inside him deeper than he had thought possible, minutes later he was screamingly hard again as Harry pounded against his prostate.

Afterwards when Harry released him from his restraints he had grabbed his lover’s face in both his hands again and said

“Harry James Potter you are one kinky git!”

“I know,” Harry said, “but I am your kinky git and I love you with all my heart.”

And the tiny bit of Draco that was annoyed with Harry melted and instead of shouting he kissed him instead.


*******************************************


In the days to come Draco glorified in his new physical strength. They swam in the pool in the garden he and Harry. Draco walked wherever he could, delighting in his uninjured leg. Harry even conjured up another bicycle and taught Draco to ride it, insisting on soothing his bruises each night. And they talked and talked, about men that had been in Draco’s life and about Mhairi.

Harry had told him that it had taken him several years to fall for Mhairi, and that it had not really been until Rory had been born that he had truly fallen in love with his wife.

“Well how did you get Flora then?” Draco had said, and at the old fashioned look that Harry gave him. “Well I know how, I just don’t know how come!”

“I was a seventeen year old boy Draco! And Mhairi was very determined, and before I knew it I was a dad – not that I am complaining though! I love my kids and I would never be with out them.”

Then Harry told him all about his children and their little quirks and foibles. How Flora was forever creating little arrangements of flowers and stones and shells, that he would stumble upon, which she never wanted to show off she just liked making them. How Rory had a toy dog that he carried everywhere called Giles. How he was sure the twins were Slytherin so quickly did they wrap everyone round their fingers. And how he knew that sweet little Finn was a Hufflepuff.

On the final afternoon, Harry procured some brooms and for the first time in twelve years they flew against each other and Draco revelled in the freedom that flying gave him. The wind blowing in his hair, chasing each other playfully, soaring over the orchard, which was of course where they finally ended up making love under the trees.

Finally, finally, after a short Parisian shopping trip, it was time to go home.

They stood in front of Grimmauld Place hand in hand and Draco felt nervous for the first time. What if the children hated him now? What if everyone turned away? But Harry seemed to sense his anxieties, because he held him close and together they walked in through the front door to meet their future together.



*******************************************


Severus was in the sitting room when Harry and Draco came home at last; Hermione rushed out of the kitchen with Ron at the sound of the door and the children exploded from nowhere.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “Draco. You are home,”

She went forward to embrace them both as Severus watched. But Harry forestalled her. He grabbed Hermione and swung her round and then laughingly turned to Ron.

“I remember you, I remember! Draco healed me he made me well again. And I remember it all!”

Then Harry danced around the hallway embracing Hermione in a clumsy waltz,

“Hats, for house-elves, SPEW, the Yule Ball - you were so beautiful Hermione! A little girl on the train looking for someone else’s lost toad! Crookshanks, scraggy old cat!” Then he pulled her even closer and kissed her leaving her eyes wide and filled with tears and her chest heaving for breath, for lack of air, and from trying not to laugh.

Because now Harry was waltzing with Ron and shouting. “Quidditch! Chess! de-gnoming the garden at The Burrow! The Chudley Cannons Forever! Fred and George.” And then he was kissing Ron too, and the children were shouting and laughing and bouncing up and down, all looking very like Harry in their exuberance just then.

And then Harry shushed them and pulled Draco from the shadows and the children all gasped in unison.

“Legolas!” Said Flora. “You look so beautiful!”

And Severus had to agree with her, for Draco truly did look beautiful.

Gone was the broken, damaged man of a few days ago, the one they had all come to know, gone was the abused boy that Severus had tried to protect, gone was the arrogant Malfoy heir.

This Draco was clad in a close cut silver robe, which fitted his torso and flared over his slim hips, he wore matching trousers which were tucked into soft leather boots and he stood straight and tall. His white blonde hair shone, in a river of pale gold running over his shoulders and down his back.

His eyes were calm and serene and he walked steadily towards the children without stumbling, without limping. And then he smiled, a huge beaming smile that lit up his face and made his eyes sparkle and dance, glistening with silver, expressing pure joy.

He walked over to Flora and knelt down to look her in the eyes and said in a voice that was steady and strong and unafraid. “Thank you, Flora, thank you for everything!”

And then she was crying and the other children were dancing around singing about how Daddy had brought home their elf. And the old house that had so long been dark and gloomy and home to hatred and despair rang with joy and music and light.