Chapter 12
We showered separately. Apparently me whispering about telling him why I dont smile like I used to ruined the mood. Who would have guessed?
Honestly I'm not sure ill ever be ready for this particular conversation, but it would only be harder to explain to Ron or Hermione. They were there after all, they saw it all, lived it with me and yet they still manage to laugh, manage to smile normally. Still remain functioning members of society.
Not entirely sure why I can't force the action really, I do so well at everything else. Maybe its a side effect of being so badly traumatised that being turned into a Vampire was barely a blip on the radar for me. Hell I laughed and took it in stride, what normal person would do that?
I trudged out of my room and knocked on Dracos door.
“Meet you in the lounge. This is about to require copious amounts of whiskey”
I heard the response of agreement, I shouldn't have been able too, especially with the shower running. But Vampire hearing does come in incredibly handy.
I walked slowly downstairs.
I hadn't bothered getting dressed properly, I'd simply thrown on some joggers and a fraying t-shirt and stuffed my feet into some crocs. Ugly but comfortable, I needed something to make a joke out of while I explained my smiling habits or lack thereof to someone who was once my mortal enemy. My mortal enemy somehow turned something else? I mean what other person knows the exact cadence of the moan that rips from their enemies throats as they come around your cock?
Would and could only be me. But there was something about Draco now. Draco, not Malfoy, not detached or set apart, not really.
The thing is, Draco had become Draco, a separate entity entirely from Malfoy. Malfoy was a pointy posh boy from school who sneered and hated anyone who wasn't a pureblood or a slytherin. Malfoy had thrown curses and been cursed, Malfoy had been a bully, had made Neville and Hermione and Ron and even me cry before now. Draco though, Draco was someone else somehow… He had all the same tells, even the same sharp tongue and the same ability to make Harry cry. But Draco didn't hate everyone who wasn't a pureblood or a slytherin, Draco listened when I talked instead of sneering and throwing insults or maybe it's that I was different.
Gone was the boy who sought justice at every turn, gone was the morals and sensibilities I prided myself on. Maybe it never really was Draco Malfoy who was the snobby horrible prat, maybe it was me.
I thought back to that first day, how I'd met him briefly earlier in madame malkins weeks before school. How he was excited and polite and kind, maybe it was me? I remembered the first day of hogwarts.
How a freckled ginger boy with too many siblings was the first person to be kind to me, the first one who didn't really care that I was somehow famous or that I had money. How child-Malfoy had sneered and called him names and acted like a pureblood. How he had only done that after I had refused to shake his hand, spurred on by my very first friend's words. How slytherins were bad, how they were evil and how the Malfoy name was only ever sorted there.
I should have taken his hand.
I should have ignored the prejudices at Hogwarts, I should have led by example and decided that I could be both.
I was, and still am a gryffindor. I am brave, I am courageous, I am chivalrous and I am determined.
But I have always been a Slytherin too. I am cunning, I am ambitious, and I am resourceful.
Those traits don't cancel eachother out and the sorting hat was right, I would have done well in Slytherin.
Maybe it took becoming what I am, who I am now to see how seamlessly those traits fit together. Maybe I was the prick, I should have just taken his hand and said screw it all to hell. It would have been nice I suppose, to be able to have someone else to run too when things got hard rather than Hermione who wants to fix everything and Ron who just wanted to laugh. Maybe it would have been nice to hear how maybe, just maybe it was unfair, unjust and that I didn't have to do all I did.
I was dragged out of my thoughts by the sound of Draco thumping down the stairs at the speed of a thousand thestrals. He skidded into the lounge, eyes alive and grinnon his face.
I inclined my head towards him as if to say what the fuck. He snickered. So like the old version of him I had in my brain, so like the pointy eleven year old that I actually had to blink. Blink and make sure that I was looking at the man and not a projection of my own thoughts. He plopped onto the couch, hand outstretched for a glass I rolled my eyes but well did as he inclined. I summoned two glasses, and a bottle of muggle whiskey and yanked on the lid. Once two fingers were poured into each glass I handed one to the blonde currently flopped over the couch like an overgrown cat and sat down.
He sipped slowly. I watched him.
“So. Get on with it” He flourished the hand holding the glass in a way I can only describe as a Malfoy gesture and settled in for the story.
I took a deep breath.
Steadied my fraying nerves.
Downed the glass in one gulp.
Poured another.
Sighed.
And began.
“For as long as I can remember I've been more disliked than liked, been more hated or feared than loved or cherished. I was sent to live with my mum's sister and her husband after my parents died. They had a son, Dudley, not much older than me, we didn't get along. Truth be known, he bullied me something foul. All of them were muggles, all of them feared me, a magical child with no control over his magic. I didn't know at the time but it was exactly as Dumbledore had planned it, citing once, when I was old enough to understand I think I was thirteen maybe? That some blood tie through my aunt kept me hidden from Voldemort. I didn't even realise at the time that my aunt and uncle, my guardians for all legal purposes, were abusive. I understood when I turned three that they hated me, that I didn't fit into their perfect family. That I was abnormal to them.”
I took a breath and downed another two fingers of whiskey. Malfoy had sat up now, his chin resting on his hand.
“I lived in a cupboard for the first twelve years of my life. Yes before you ask I do mean an actual cupboard, it was under the stairs, and dark and filled with spiders and had a lock on the outside that was used frequently to keep me in. I hated that cupboard and yet somehow I still yearn for it sometimes, after a hard day. I had to cook all the meals: bacon for breakfast, soup from scratch for lunch, roast for tea. All while receiving leftover scraps at best as my food for the day. I wore hand-me-down clothes from Dudley that were far too big and I tripped on the pants a lot. I got beat if I burned the bacon or spoke out of turn or breathed too loudly or did something "freaky”. That sort of thing, that sort of abuse and just to shove salt in the wound, Dumbledore knew. When I came to Hogwarts that first day and met others like me, when I learnt that I wasn't a freak or abnormal or even weird really, I was just magical. It was the first place I wasn't afraid, not of the Dursleys or of Dudley or of anything really, It was the first place I felt safe.”
Another shot.
“Hogwarts became the only home that I had ever known, my true home, the one where I felt safe and secure with no fear of beatings. I had friends at Hogwarts that cared about me, actually cared about me and how I was feeling and if I got good grades. I got food at Hogwarts where I could eat as much as I wanted, minimum of three times a day; well until I found the kitchen. There were no bars on my windows at Hogwarts, only friends in the dormitories if I got lonely or had a bad dream they were there. If sometimes I got into a little trouble, a minor life or death situation to save my friends, or the one place that was safe then that was a price I was willing to pay. More than willing really, I felt it was almost owed. I was safe and fed and cared for, it was the least I could do. I fought Voldemort, the second time, when he was a spectre on the back of Quirrell's head at eleven. I fought a basilisk under Voldemort's control and instruction for Ginny Weasley's life at twelve. Got stabbed by a fang in the process, nearly died, would have if faux hadn't come. I found out at thirteen that I had a godfather. Thought he was a mass murderer at first and then found out he was trying to protect me. I found it odd that an adult would protect me. Then I had to watch as a dementor nearly stole his soul while his husband hunted me in werewolf form only feet away. Terrified and unable to do anything but watch until I produced a patronus. When I was fourteen I had to participate in a tournament meant to kill or maim participants. One that was meant for people three years older than me, with better magical control. With more knowledge and skills, I was meant to compete, battle them even. Then when I had against all odds managed it, the damn trophy was a port key and I had to duel Voldy. In the flesh, for a fourth time all while tied to a headstone.”
Draco's eyes were wide, his hand pressed delicately over his mouth. I took another shot.
“Fifteen was where things got a touch sketchy. Just a tiny bit less safe, less protected, less wanted. Tom or Voldemort as you know him, realised we were connected, realised he could get into my head. Muck around in there, plant thoughts or visions or sometimes even hallucinations. Use it to his advantage. I was so angry then, so alone and confused and scared. I started lashing out, begging Dumbledore to help me. In his infinite wisdom he decided the best course of action was to ignore it all. Pretend that I didn't have a dark lord poking around in my head, that I wasn't screaming at teachers or starting underground military operations or… stalking you. It wasn't until I woke one night screaming the damn tower down, woke with Minnie shaking me, eyes wide and all but being dragged up that stupid stone staircase to his office. That Dumbledore had finally seemed to notice me. I told him what I'd seen, that Arthur - Ron's dad was being tortured in the ministry by Tom and his followers and I was proven right. It was because of that, that he did anything at all.”
Half the bottle was gone now. Draco was holding onto his glass by the tips of his fingers.
“I later found out that I'd set my bed on fire that night. Nearly burned the whole of Gryffindor tower down, if Ron and Seamus, and Dean, and Neville hadn't been there. Well I doubt the damn thing would be standing, or that I'd be here. Dumbedore summoned Snape almost immediately demanding he teach me occlumency. I’m shit at it by the way, and then he went back to pretending I didn't exist. The man who has laughed with me and showed me how to feel safe, and was the closest damn thing to a real guardian I had. Especially with Sirius on the run from Azkaban and the Dementors and the ministry had shut me out. Again.”
I took my next drink straight out the bottle, long and languid, savouring the way it burned.
I breathed in a shaky breath, tears stinging my eyes.
“The next time it happened, the visions I mean, it was Sirius being tortured, Sirius tied up and screaming. Sirius, my only remaining family laughing in Tom's face. Spitting, refusing to give him anything, telling him point blank that he'd have to kill him before he'd tell him a damn thing. Of course I ran to his aid, of course I walked right into a trap. I was fifteen, worried and scared and used to taking risks with my own life. I used thestrals to get to the ministry taking pretty much everyone I cared about right along with me.” I concentrated on my breathing. Talking about Sirius, about how he died and the events that lead up to it always made me feel sick.
“That was the night he died wasn't it?” Malfoys voice was soft.
“Yes, that was the night. Me and the others, we fought Toms and his followers the best we could. We were only children for fucks sake, I’d told snape an order code before we left. Prayed that Snape would tell the real adults, get them to help us. When the order arrived Sirius found me, fighting your dad actually and loosing. We fought, side by side against Tom and his followers. Fought like we'd been doing it for years, and Sirius forgot. He forgot that I was Harry, that I was fifteen. He called me James. We thought we'd done it, thought we’d bested them, thought we’d won when Bellatrix hit him with a stupefy that sent him reeling into the veil behind him. I don't think she had meant to kill him, it was a stunning spell, non lethal. I saw the shock on my face reflected on hers as he fell through the veil and vanished. I could do nothing but watch rooted to the spot as my final family member was torn from me. Ripped away by his own cousin, with a spell meant to disarm not kill. Remus had grabbed me by that point, I fought Remus too, thrashing and screaming to get to Sirius, to thrust my hands into the veil and drag him back out. I remember screaming, endlessly and wordlessly. Remus held me up when my knees gave out, held me as I continued to fight like a man possessed until exhaustion took me. It was my fault that Sirius died. If i had been smarter, if I hadn't ran to the rescue he might still be alive. If I been so brash, if I had talked to an adult before running into the ministry. Maybe I wouldn't be alone. Maybe Remus would still be a Black. Maybe they'd both still be alive and I wouldn't be sending money to Tonks's mum for my godson. A godson I've never met, one I only have because I'm the reason Sirius is dead. I started this whole chain of events that lead to a godson that doesn't know he has an uncle Harry. The uncle he only has because when Remus looked at me. Really looked at me he saw his three best friends. ”
Tears were falling now, running down my cheeks in torrents as I breathed and tried to remember how to calm my erratic heart. It took a few minutes but I managed. I didn't look back to Draco, I stared at my glass.
“The next thing I remember… I'm floating just above my body, watching from the sidelines as I duel Dumbledore. Watching as I threw spells I didn't even know existed at a man I had adored right from the start. I know Tom has possessed me, I know I went running after Bellatrix, everyone has told me how I nearly killed her that day. I don't remember it though, I remember the duel in a way that you remember seeing it but not doing it sort of way, I remember arguing with Tom and managing to throw him out of my body. When I woke up in the hospital wing the next morning, it was all over. And Sirius was dead. Sirius was dead and along with him he had taken my only hope of ever having someone truly want me. He had asked me to go live with him when I was thirteen, I had all but begged him, but he was a fugitive and until he could get back to Grimmauld place there was nowhere I could go with him but god how I wanted too. I wanted so very badly to be with someone who wanted me, who would tell me stories of my parents and make sure I ate and noticed when I wasn't myself.” I laughed a very shaky laugh.
“Sixth year I imagine you remember, what you won't know is how I went with our old headmaster to a cave. How I was made to force feed him a potion that reduced him to a sobbing mess on a cold stone floor. How when I tried to get him water from the lake an inferrus grabbed me and pulled me down. How I didn't even try to fight it as I saw the black curls float up and the mottled grey eyes open. I thought Sirius had come to save me from it all, come to whisk me away like he'd promised. I found out later Sirius had a younger brother.”
“Regulus” Draco breathed
“The one and the same. Then there was the astronomy tower. We'd only just go back when you came in. My robes were still wet with lake water, phantom hands still gripping my arms. You pointed your wand at his throat. You were crying, almost begging in how you were talking. Telling him how you were being forced to kill him. How Voldemort was threatening to kill your mother if you failed. I was under the floor, watching as Snape stepped forward and killed him. I watched the light drain out of those mischievous eyes, watched him fall backwards off the tower, heard when he hit the ground below”
I looked up at Draco now. Tears were tracking down his face.
The bottle was empty.
My nerves were frayed but blessedly still.
“Everyone heard about me traipsing through the countryside at seventeen. How I found a way to end tom and for all. I won't go over that bit other than to say that at more than one point I nearly died. I imagine you remember the cellar that day, I won't rehash that either. At the battle at Hogwarts, after Tom decided that I was to go see him or watch everyone die, Snape gave me a memory. In the memory it outlined how everything that Albus Dumbledore had done was leading to that moment. That the only way I could take out Tom, once and for all, was to sacrifice myself. I had to die, so that Tom would die. Neither can live while the other survives. I walked into the forbidden forest that day, knowing that it had all been in vain really. I had been abused, tortured, hurt and broken all for this moment.” I shook my head almost fondly.
“I walked into that forest knowing I wouldn't walk ever back out. I made my peace with that knowledge that I would die but my friends would live. I truly didn't know that I would survive. I had no idea that I would walk back onto that battle field not an hour later. Hadn't anticipated that it would be my spell that caused Toms to backfire. That I would live another day and be sat here telling you this story. I was prepared to literally die to save the wizarding world, lay down my wand and allow myself to die. To go against every instinct, every screaming though. I had to protect everyone, after all they had sheltered me, fed me and been kind to me. I owed them my life did I not? I had been raised, like a pig for slaughter, to die at the correct moment, by a man I had adored. Everything I had been through, everything had been to craft the perfect weapon. The perfect soldier. The linchpin of Tom Riddle's reign. All of it had been a lie. All the jokes and teases and seemingly genuine acts of care from the headmaster. All of it was a lie. He had raised me with the specific purpose of dying. And now it brings us back to the present, to pretty much everything you already know. So I don't smile much now, or laugh much, I stay away, hidden in the muggle world.”
My breathing was shaky at best.
“As much as I try, I can't fake the smiles or the laughter. Not with anyone who has heard it before. Not with anyone who knows how the pieces fit”
“Harry” Draco's voice was barely a whisper.
“Dumbledore created a weapon, the thing is I don't know how to not be a weapon. I don't know how I am to remain in the wizarding world, even as a vampire and to also put down the mantle that was thrust onto me. A sword is a sword, doesn't matter how you frame it or try to blunt the edge or even how you shove it in storage. It remains a sword, a weapon, its ability to defend, to cut down or to kill remains. And now I am a Vampire, the instinct to protect, to harm anything that threatens what is mine, is at an all time high. I am incapable of simply stopping. My ability to kill, to be wielded as the weapon I am is a liability. I am a liability. All it takes is one wrong move and the threat will be dead, and I will be known as the monster I am. The foundation of love and light and acceptance that I built with the weight of my blood will break in two. So I hide, I stay away, I pretend that all is fine, because, me falling from that pedestal they forced me onto, well I imagine that it would all fall down. Like dominoes in a gale and I would be left again. Left to sift through the debris of my life, of my sacrifices alone and unwelcome and feared once again”
I summoned another bottle, and spoke softly, my voice thick and carrying on the charged silence.
“Laughing reminds me of Sirius, and of tonks. I smile like Remus, wide and just a tiny bit sharp regardless of the day. My eyes crinkle like my fathers did. My firsts clench like my mum, I shake my head like Dumbledore and the sound booms out of me like Fred.
I am a tapestry of every person I have ever loved, of every person who loved me in return. I am a walking memorial for everyone that I have lost, and it is only more pronounced when I am filled with joy.”