Chapter 17
“What do you think, Harry?”
“What?”
“Come on, focus. I’ve said it nearly four times now!”
Harry couldn’t focus, not on Ron or anything else. All he could think about was the morning he woke up alone. He hadn’t heard a word since. The house was empty and hollow. Draco was there for a week and gone for a week, and somewhere in between Harry’s little feelings had grown. Before he had wanted simple things, a kiss or a flirty conversation. Now, things felt complicated and Harry wanted things he had never felt before. All he knew for sure was that he missed him, and he wanted him back. But it seemed no one was coming.
“So, should we do it?”
“Do what?”
“Damn it, Harry!” Ron was exasperated and he articulated his next words with force. “DO. WE. CONFRONT. HER?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Harry finally answered. After the incident a notice was sent to Morrie saying the package was lost. Since then she hadn’t diverged from her usual schedule at all, in fact she even kept mailing packages. Harry grabbed the book off his desk. It had been the object inside the cursed parcel.
“I’m going home.” Harry stood and scratched at his healing black scabs.
“It’s not even noon!” Ron was baffled by Harry’s actions and moods over the past days.
“I don’t care. They can fire me.” Harry put on his coat and grabbed the book. He walked outside and down a platform to the train.
He found an empty seat and opened the book as the train lurched forward. He hadn’t bothered to see where the train was headed and he didn’t care. A muffled voice spoke over the intercom but he ignored her.
The book was in Spanish but Harry could tell by the lines that it was poetry. It must be some dusty paperback she picked up on holiday. Harry flipped through the pages randomly. He quietly charmed a page and the words translated.
The train rumbled and shook as it went. The noise created a perfect background, so much more preferable to silence. Harry was so tired of silence. If passengers noticed the man reading his book past all the stops they did not disturb him.
Harry turned the pages and tried to think of nothing else.
The only problem was the book was composed of love sonnets. They did little to dispel his cantankerous mood. Harry didn’t mind, he let himself be pushed further down by the sweet notions. He sighed and turned another page. The train rocked him gently and traveled on.
“This is the last stop.”
Harry blinked and looked around him. An old man waited for him to move.
“Oh” Harry said standing. He moved towards the exit before turning back again. “Where are we?”
“Aberdeen.” The man laughed.
“Right. Thanks.” Harry stepped off the train into the dark station. On the street people moved quietly home from work and towards dinner reservations. Harry walked and stared at the looming gray stone buildings.
The doors of an old cathedral were open and Harry ducked in out of the rain. Cathedrals reminded Harry of Hogwarts, with their beautiful architecture and grand windows. He sat in a pew and stared at the altar while bending the book in his hands.
“Would you like me to pray with you?” Harry jumped, a tall priest had entered the empty hall and was standing at the end of the wood bench he sat on.
“I’m sorry I’m not praying. I’m just… sitting.” Harry said nervously.
“Don’t worry, that's what half my parishioners do too.” He laughed and Harry felt calmer.
“I guess I’d fit right in then.” Harry smiled.
“Troubles of the heart?” The priest said, sitting down next to Harry and pointing to the book.
“You could say.” Harry let out a little laugh. “You have any advice?”
“Well,” The priest leaned back and crossed his arms. “There are lots of different types of love. I think no matter which type you’re conflicted with there is one prescription that can cure the heartache in us all: Courage.”
Harry looked at the priest and nodded. He turned his face back forward. Courage. Is that all he needed? He had always pushed to be brave, all his life. Was courage different than that? This felt different than anything he had ever experienced.
“We have a mass at midnight, you can stay.” The priest broke Harry’s thoughts.
“I’m not Catholic.”
“There’s always room for improvement.” The priest laughed and Harry joined him.
“I’m sorry Father but I should be going… I’ve got courage to find.” Harry stood and the priest did too.
“Safe travels.” He said, blessing Harry with the sign of the cross.
“Thank you.” Harry walked back into the night. It was raining still and cold.
Courage. Harry thought, stuffing the book into his coat pocket. Courage, courage, courage.
From the streets of Scotland he vanished into the air. He split back into focus and grabbed his chest. The scars felt as if they were twisted and torn apart. He knew he mustn’t apparate again.
On the now familiar lawn he paced out of touch from the light of the windows bleeding across the ground. He gathered his strength, and pounded on the door. The small house elf showed him in. He had been here too many times now not to be able to greet her.
“What’s your name?” Harry asked her.
“Tillie.” She squeaked.
“Tillie, would you please tell Draco I’m here.”
“I’m really not-“
“I know, but if I go yelling I’ll wake Mrs. Malfoy and I’d hate to do that.”
She thought about his request for a moment and disappeared. Harry rested one hand on a table and the other on his burning scabs. He felt them lying silkily beneath his shirt, they had not torn open but they hurt as if they still might.
“What’re you doing here?” Draco’s voice was cold. Harry looked over at him. He fought to think of what to say, what to do.
“You’re not well.” Draco surmised and stepped towards him. Carefully he unbuttoned the top of Harry’s shirt and looked at the scars.
“Merlin, I told you to take it easy!” Draco was displeased.
“Why’d you leave?” Harry blurted in a whisper. Draco dropped his hands and stepped back.
“You should go. I’ll write you a-“
“Why’d you leave.” Harry cut him off. This time his voice was more confident.
“Potter I don’t-“
“Just tell me!” Harry shouted. Malfoy grabbed his arm and dragged him into the parlor, closing the doors.
“Fine.” Draco frowned. “I left to save you the embarrassment.”
“What?”
“You had taken pain medication, you were delirious. I just saved you from having to make some excuse for what happened.”
“That’s not what happened,” Harry started but Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“It’s not!” Harry burst and Draco tried to shush him.
“You set the cup on the table, I never drank it.” Harry continued.
“I don’t believe you.” Malfoy looked as if he couldn’t believe Harry’s words. As if such a thing was impossible.
“Believe whatever you want. I put my arms around you because I wanted to.” Harry felt all the weight of his feelings spring forward. “Fuck! I always want to. I want to right now, I want to… to…And you wanted it too. You could’ve left.”
“I did leave.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “And I can’t understand why.”
“What do you want from me?” Draco crossed his arms and looked at the floor.
“I want…. I want you to come back.”
Draco said nothing and kept his eyes down. Harry felt as if he could explode, but he didn’t want to press. Like his arm, he would let this request hang in the air and Draco would have to decide what happens next.
“You know where I’ll be.” Harry said and he snapped from the room.
He split through the air at Grimmauld place with a yell. The healing wounds had ripped. Harry couldn’t breathe.
“IDIOT!” Draco was next to him. “I told you to TAKE. IT. EASY.”
“I forgot.” Harry choked. He really had, in the midst of their conversation, lost track of the information.
“Come on.” Draco lifted Harry’s arm over his shoulder. Harry cried out as they climbed the stairs and by the second set the tears started despite his determination.
He sat on the edge of the tub as the water sent steam up around him. Draco went off in search of the correct potions. Harry looked down at his blood streaked shirt. He finished the buttons that Draco had left closed earlier. He let the shirt and jacket fall to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and slid into the tub, splashing water.
“This won’t hurt as bad as the first time, since they’ve healed some.” Draco knelt and dripped the black ink in. Harry thought it felt just as awful. He pressed his eyes together and breathed hard through his nose.
“I’ll get you something for the pain.” Draco tried to stand but Harry caught his hand against the rim of the tub.
“No.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Draco started to leave again but Harry pressed his hand against the porcelain till his knuckles turned white.
“I don’t want it. I don’t want you thinking-“ Harry couldn’t finish. He closed his eyes again and focused on a new wave of pain. He didn’t open them again until it was over. He looked down and saw new shiny black ribbons over the old ones. He stood, his legs shaking and went to step out.
“Here.” Draco lifted his arms to help Harry. He grabbed them and managed to make it out of the tub without falling. Bending Harry retrieved his jacket and shirt from the floor.
“Thank you.” Harry said faintly.
“No more aparating till you’re fully healed.”
“I promise.” Harry moved to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Bed.”
“Are you… do you…” Draco couldn’t assemble his thoughts.
“Yes?” Harry stopped at the top of the stairs.
“Are you going to be okay? By yourself?”
“If you want me, you know where I’ll be.” He repeated his earlier line. Harry walked down the stairs and through the hall to his bedroom with heavy uneven steps.
He stripped out of the rest of his wet clothes and put on plaid pajama pants. He grabbed the book from his jacket and crawled into bed. Harry was too tired to keep reading. He set the book on the side table and turned out the lights. The house was silent and as hard as Harry listened he couldn’t hear any footsteps coming.
As he began to drift off to sleep the door latch clicked. Harry said nothing as he felt someone slide in next to him. He turned on his side and squinted to see Draco in the soft starlight.
“You didn’t take it?” Draco asked.
“I didn’t take it then and I didn’t take it now.” Harry grabbed his hand as he spoke. He was too sore to do anything else.
“But why? Why would you want to…” Draco closed his eyes and shook his head. “I mean, it’s me… and it’s you… why would you want to if it’s me…”
Draco’s face was a mass of confused pain. Harry couldn’t take it. With all the strength he had left he pulled himself as close to Draco as he could get.
“I want to because it’s you.” Harry pushed himself forward and planted a kiss on Draco’s forehead.
“God,” Harry laughed. “I must’ve wanted to do that since I was thirteen.”
“I don’t know how to believe that.” Draco shook his head again.
“Stay… and I’ll prove it.”