Title: Sound Of My Voice
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: PG-13
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
A/N: I can't believe it's the end! I mean, wow. And to think that originally this fic was going to be two, maybe three chapters long. I sure took a different route! I wanted to apologize for the late update. It took a few days to plot out what exactly I wanted to happen, and then I speed wrote for another few days, and here is the end result! To make up for my super short chapters, this last one is a monster. So read on and enjoy!
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He didn't know where to go. In any which direction, he seemed to run into people that he inexpressibly wanted to avoid. He couldn't go back to the common room because his friends would be there. And he certainly couldn't go back to his tower. But he wanted to go someplace where there weren't a lot of, or any, people. And even though it may not have been one of the smartest moves he made, his mind was set.
So he turned around and headed toward the dungeons.
Well, he had always been known for being brave, not a brainiac. And while he did have a chance of running into the very person he was avoiding, he figured he could duck into a shadow and be safe. Besides, Draco never struck him as a hallway lurker.
As he walked down a particularly shadowed hall, he couldn't suppress a shudder when a cold chill washed over him. He never really liked the dungeons. Not because they were dark and musty; that he didn't mind. It more had to do with the fact that this could've been his life had he not asked the sorting hat to place him in his current House.
But he didn't like dealing with the Would Have Beens and especially not the Actually Weres. That was why he was in his current situation. That was why he was walking down a dingy dungeon corridor. That was why he--
"Ouch!"
--ran into the resident Potions master.
Rubbing his sore arm where he had fallen against the wall, Professor Snape glared at Harry challengingly. "You do realize that you're way out of your territory, Potter," he ground out semi-maliciously, knowing full well that he was wasting his breath and his time insulting someone who refused to take the bait. He had found that one out on the first day back to classes after the war, when he had made an oh-so-astute comment about how Harry had managed to save them all from peril yet again. When he had gotten no response, no scathing comeback, no ferocious glare, not even a batted eye, he realized that his normal days of insulting Harry were over.
After that his life had turned into pure chaos. When he wasn't dealing with Draco's anger problems, he was dealing with keeping his insults in check around Harry. Things were changing. If for the better, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. He noticed Harry staring at Draco, had even busted the teen on it a few times. But he also noticed that the stares weren't one-sided. And when he had questioned Draco on it a few months ago, he had received only a vague response. And once again he reminded himself that he wasn't stupid.
Thoughts returning once again to the current situation, Snape regarded the teen with a scrutinizing gaze, which Harry returned defiantly. It was almost like his lack of talking allowed the Gryffindor to grow a spine. Snape almost laughed at his inner musings. With a cool gaze, he said to Harry, "It's a Saturday afternoon, Potter. Most normal people would be outside in the sun, not wandering aimlessly down a windowless corridor." And with that, he continued on his way, inwardly smirking at leaving the teen dumbfounded.
And Harry was certainly dumbfounded. He wasn't expecting to run into anyone, least of all Snape. And he most definitely didn't expect to leave the encounter on an almost pleasant note. This day could not possibly get any stranger.
He decided that now would be as good a time as any to leave the dungeons. But as he climbed the stairs, he pondered where exactly he could go. He was in the same predicament as earlier. Although now he thought that his tower might be a safe option. Snape was right; most of the students should be outside right now. And most students included Draco. The odds were in Harry's favor, really.
So he decided to chance it. As he ascended the hidden staircase in the passageway, his heart sped up a bit with apprehension. There was always that chance that Draco was going to be in there. He didn't know what he would do if he met the blonde.
At the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath before quietly opening the door. Peering around it, he saw no sign of the other teen. Heaving a sigh of relief, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. At least that was one thing he didn't have to deal with.
Making his way over to the window, he flopped down on the sill and closed his eyes, silently basking in the sunrays that tumbled over him. This was exactly what he needed right now.
Unfortunately, it was not what he would receive. At a slight shuffling, his eyes flew open and whipped about the room. There was nothing--no one--there. He must have just been hearing things.
But then he heard it again. And when Draco's head appeared from thin air, Harry was so startled that he lost his balance and smacked the back of his head against the window.
As the rest of Draco was uncovered from where he was standing across the room, he said, "You're not the only one with an invisibility cloak." He proceeded to fold the cloak and set it down on the ground, which he had inspected for sufficient cleanliness before doing so. Turning back to Harry, he teased, "So, you've been avoiding me?" There was a hint of honestly in the question, and he already knew it was true. He just wanted it to be acknowledged, to show Harry that he--Draco--had indeed noticed.
Harry's lack of response wasn't surprising. No nod, no frown, just eyes. Those seemingly endless eyes that showed how Harry thought he was damned. Draco always could read the other teen's eyes quite well. He had mastered the skill after Harry had stopped talking.
Gracefully settling down on the stone floor, he said, "Potter, we need to talk." And when Harry gave him a dirty look, Draco didn't correct himself. He meant what he said. "The thing is," he continued smoothly, "you have become quite the novelty around school. More so than usual."
Harry could feel the glare slipping from his face. He knew the blonde would never leave him alone until he got what he wanted. Harry supposed there was no way for him to stay sane while continuing to dodge these confrontations. Sighing in defeat, he sank slowly to the ground, leaning up against the wall.
Draco had really expected Harry to put up more of a fight than this. Perhaps he was ready to give in, to explain himself. But as he observed the other teen bring his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, Draco could see that Harry was still too withdrawn. It was time to up the ante a bit.
"You have quite the ideal setup, Potter." At Harry's questioning glance, he continued with a wave of his hand. "This whole mute business. Quite ingenious, really. Everyone is walking on eggshells around you, even months later. You could get away with anything. Even murder."
He watched as Harry's fists clenched, jaw tightening, but still he just sat there, staring straight ahead.
"But I guess you wouldn't know anything about how to utilize a good situation. You *are* a Gryffindor, after all." He paused, waiting for any indication that his words broke through. He was greeted with nothing. Nothing physical, anyway. He could feel the tension rising in the room, could practically taste it. He was close and getting closer.
With a lazy smile, Draco said, "It's only fitting that you turned out the way that you did. Look at the people who you frequent your time with." He had long since abandoned calling Harry's friends by their insulting nicknames, but that didn't mean he had any sort of liking for either of them. He knew that Harry was fiercely loyal and that his comments would strike a chord.
When Harry's eyes narrowed just a fraction, Draco added, "But I suppose you can't blame it all on your friends. Look at your upbringing. And your parents--"
Before he could even finish his statement, Draco found his throat being jabbed rather forcefully by Harry's wand. Taking the opportunity he had been waiting for, Draco smirked. "It's not quite as effective without being able to say the curse, now is it?" He was answered with another painful jab. This had better work. He wouldn't want to have gained a bruise on his throat for nothing, and he knew one was already forming.
"Poor pathetic Potter. What are you going to do with your life now? You're being left behind. After graduation, after that... No parents. No godfather. Not even your friends. You'll be all alone."
All alone... Harry's hand trembling, his still outstretched wand vibrating against Draco's column of throat. He briefly shut his eyes, only to open them again and find Draco's hard gaze boring into him, trying to force his next move.
"All alone," Draco repeated with a deadly calm.
That was all it took. At once Harry's wand was forgotten as he tackled Draco to the cold stone floor, throwing wild punches at the blonde through angry tear-filled eyes. He knew most of his hits weren't connecting, weren't causing too much damage, but he swung anyway. He felt a strange satisfaction when his right fist connected with Draco's jaw, felt an almost primal urge to continue hitting him, to watch the trickle of crimson flow into a river...
And then he stopped in midswing, horror washing over him. What was he doing?
But he had no time to contemplate this as Draco suddenly pushed Harry off of him and had reversed their positions so that Harry was the one being hit. Draco threw punch after punch, not relenting even as Harry's face contorted with pain and eyes refilled with tears. He was going to end this thing right now. "It's not just about you, you know!" Draco spat out. "Others lost people, too!"
And when Harry didn't respond, Draco only punched harder. "Why"--punch--"won't"--punch--"you"--jab--"talk!" He reached his fist back, ready to deliver it with full force.
Just before his fist made contact with Harry's left eye, Harry cried out, "Stop!"
Huffing and puffing, Draco's arms fell limply to his sides. He was shocked, and he didn't know why. This was the whole point of his plan. But hearing Harry speaking after seven months...
Leaning back, Draco fell into a sitting position. Still breathing heavily, he offered a hand to the equally out-of-breath Gryffindor.
Eyeing the hand wearily, Harry hesitantly grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up, his bruised body inwardly protesting. He was startled with Draco asked quietly, "So you *can* talk?"
He was caught. There was no denying anything now. He nodded, a force of habit. Clearing his throat, he answered, "Yes, I can talk." He sighed, knowing that questions were going to be asked and that his answers would inevitably follow. He only hoped he was strong enough to give them. "I can talk," he repeated slowly. "There is nothing physically wrong with me."
His implication hung heavily in the air, mingling with the almost suffocating tension and the quickly rising inner turmoil. Draco noticed Harry's reluctance to talk, but he wasn't about to let the other teen get away without an explanation, without the truth. Harry desperately needed to talk, and Draco was going to make him. "All this time..." Draco shook his head. "Why did you do it? What happened that day that made you stop speaking?"
Harry felt memories start to flood over him, drown him. Image after image flashed in his mind, unrelenting barrages of the hell he had been witness to. Forcefully pushing them down to a dull roar, he answered, "What *didn't* happen that day? Sorry," he muttered as he noticed Draco's confused expression. "For a fraction of a second, the world ceased to exist. Voldemort had won. I had lost--had let the entire wizarding world down." Eyes downcast, he admitted, "In that fraction of a second, I gave up hope, surrendered. And that scared me."
"But those are all normal feelings," Draco argued, hand gesturing emphatically. Naturally Harry was going to feel those things briefly. He had, after all, defeated Voldemort at the ripe young age of seventeen. Only a crazed idiot could have done that and not felt some doubt along the way. "Surely that's not the reason why you stopped talking?"
"It's not..." Harry was amazed at how easy it was to start talking again. To another person, that was. Over the months, when in complete isolation from everyone, he would talk to himself to keep his voice from weakening. But as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was mute. "It's much worse than that. I..." he trailed off, unable to continue.
Leaning forward, Draco placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, only to have it shrugged off violently.
"I don't deserve pity, especially not from you," he ground out bitterly, "especially not after what I did."
"What did you do?" Draco asked after a pregnant pause. At this point, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but he was going to remain strong, for Harry's sake.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing labored. For a fleeting moment he thought he might pass out. But then he took a deep breath. Draco deserved to hear this. Harry would give him that much. Drawing in another ragged breath, he whispered, "I killed your father."
Draco blinked in obvious confusion, unsure that he had heard correctly. Harry killed his father? Impossible. Maybe the other teen had finally lost it and Draco never noticed... but he would have noticed, so there had to be another explanation. "What are you saying? *I* was the one that killed my father."
"I almost killed you, too."
Almost unconsciously, Draco's left hand slipped under his shirt to run across his no-longer-flawless stomach. Gentle fingers met cool, puckered skin, a jagged scar that sliced across the otherwise smooth expanse of his stomach. It had been a parting gift from Lucius, his dear father. He probably could have had the scar magicked away, but he kept it to remind himself that he was still alive, that he had chosen the right path. "What are you talking about?"
Harry sighed deeply, painfully. "In order to defeat Voldemort, I used a spell to invoke a lot of Dark magic. It was something I had been working on in secret. Not even Dumbledore knew. The spell was powerful, dangerous, and it--it affected me."
"Affected you how"
Harry opened his eyes again but refused to look up from the ground. "I felt this surge, this wave of power course through me, enveloping me, drowning me. It felt... evil. And for a minute, *I* felt evil." His voice was trembling as was his body, but he plowed on. "I was running toward Voldemort when Lucius blocked me. But I didn't want him. I wanted to kill him, yes, but I wasn't going to waste my energy because I was so focused on going after Voldemort. I told him that I had seen you just minutes
before, that you were apprehending Death Eaters left and right. I even pointed him in the right direction." Haunted, cloudy emeralds looked up to meet Draco's gaze. "I sent him toward you, knowing he would be killed, that he was as good as dead."
This was all new to Draco. He had see his father running toward him, had exchanged a few brief sentiments before the curses started flying. He never even stopped to wonder how Lucius had known where he was when they hadn't seen each other throughout that last battle. Draco's hand once again found itself tracing his scar, an imperceptible shudder engulfing his body. And he remembered all that it stood for to him. Looking Harry squarely in the eye, he said firmly, "My father was dead to me long before I met you."
Harry's throat constricted painfully. "Your mother went rushing after him..."
And Draco saw his mother running toward him, just in time to see the fatal blow delivered to Lucius. In a crazed outrage, Narcissa had raised her want to her only son but was struck dead before she could even open her mouth. It was the first and only time Draco had cried. Not for the loss of his parents, but for the gain of his freedom.
"Listen to me," he said harshly to Harry, making the Gryffindor wince. "My parents were Death Eaters. Their deaths were inevitable. While I would rather have not been the one with the pleasure of killing them, I can't exactly change it now. It doesn't matter. I got over it. You need to get over your shit, too."
"But it's not that easy!" Harry cried, shaking hands clutching tightly at the hem of his shirt. "I can still see him, can still feel what I felt when I was going after him. I--I tortured him. For a long time. I wanted him to feel pain, feel pain like I have felt all my life. I wanted him to suffer at my hands." Voice cracking, he whispered, "I was evil."
"No." Draco reached forward and gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, startling him. "You were not evil. It was all of that Dark magic you had invoked. You stopped him. You saved the world from being his playground. You saved all of the half-blood and Muggle wizards from being killed. You are *not* evil," he repeated quietly, shaking Harry to try to get his words to sink in.
"Sometimes... sometimes I could still feel the Dark magic inside of me, calling to me... I would wake up in the middle of the night with these feelings of bloodlust. It frightened me. It still does." His hands raised to cover the hands that were on his shoulders. "I don't want to feel this way," he said desperately, collapsing forward with a sob.
Catching the broken teen in his arms, Draco pulled their bodies tightly together as he stroked Harry's damp raven hair. He didn't have much experience comforting others. He didn't deal with emotions well, or at all, but his entire mindframe was in comforting Harry.
They sat that way for quite some time, the only noise Harry's soft whimpers that eventually died down to hiccups. The entire time, Draco never relinquished his hold, only pressed his face into the unruly mop of hair. He could feel Harry's heartbeat, could hear his breaths even out. Apparently all of that guilt and sorrow had exhausted him.
Moving his head back, Draco turned his eyes to Harry's face, who met his stare. There were no tears, but the emerald orbs were rimmed with the slightest hint of red.
"Why?" Harry voiced out.
"Why what?"
"Why did you make me talk? Why do you care about me, especially after what I did to you?"
"What you did *for* me," Draco corrected, "and we already discussed that. The world deserved to hear you speak. You deserve to be a part of this world. And I care... I care because I do." He reached a lone finger up to trace Harry's cheek, down to his jaw before his hand fully cupped Harry's angular chin. "I cared long before the war. I cared much more after."
Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Harry asked, "Do you mean..."
But he knew the answer. Draco's expression was one of pure honesty, one that he had never worn before. "I want you to be happy, Harry. And I would be ecstatic if you were happy... with me."
Harry almost couldn't believe his ears. What he had wished for and even suspected on occasion had just been confirmed. But how could he be with Draco after everything he had put the blonde through? "But what about--"
His words were muffled as his mouth was suddenly covered by Draco's. Surprised but certainly not disappointed, Harry brought a hand up to the back of Draco's neck and pulled him closer, leaving no space between their hard-breathing bodies.
Sighing as the kiss deepened, Draco felt like this was the most natural thing in the world, like they had been together like this for ages. It was comfortable yet exciting, both mind-melting and steamy. For a split second he smirked to himself. He knew his idea would work!
Giving a few lingering kisses at the corner of Harry's mouth, Draco asked," So how do you feel now?"
With a slight upturn of his lips, Harry replied breathlessly, "Like everything will be better from now on."
"And it will be," Draco promised, kissing Harry's palm before clasping it firmly. "I'll make sure of that."
Settling comfortably in Draco's arms, Harry stroked the pale skin of Draco's hand with his thumb. "So what do I do now?"
"Now you show the world that Harry Potter still lives on."
Harry twisted around to face the blonde. "You'll help me, right?"
Softly caressing Harry's lips with his own, Draco murmured, "Always."
The two stood, hand in hand, and left the tower that had now become their own.
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The end! Say it with me now: aww... You all know me and my fluffy endings. I just couldn't put up with the angst any more! I hope I did both the fluff and the angst some justice. I tried sooooo hard on this fic to make everything as believable as possible. And I must say that it's one of my favorites (right up there with HLaS and Masterpiece).
I want to thank everyone for the wonderful support you have shown in the production of this fic. It means the moon and stars to me, it really does. You guys are the amazing ones. I'm just the writer.
Wow. I can't believe this fic is over already. It seems like I just started it! It's sad to be finished. Actually, I'm thinking about doing an epilogue where Harry announces to everyone that he can talk again. What do you guys think? Should I go for an epilogue or leave it standing, as is? Please let me know!
I love you guys more than I love my Sailor Moon alarm clock (that's a lot of love right there). I hope you all will continue to be entertained by my upcoming fics (I do have a lot of them in the works), so stay tuned for them!
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: PG-13
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
A/N: I can't believe it's the end! I mean, wow. And to think that originally this fic was going to be two, maybe three chapters long. I sure took a different route! I wanted to apologize for the late update. It took a few days to plot out what exactly I wanted to happen, and then I speed wrote for another few days, and here is the end result! To make up for my super short chapters, this last one is a monster. So read on and enjoy!
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He didn't know where to go. In any which direction, he seemed to run into people that he inexpressibly wanted to avoid. He couldn't go back to the common room because his friends would be there. And he certainly couldn't go back to his tower. But he wanted to go someplace where there weren't a lot of, or any, people. And even though it may not have been one of the smartest moves he made, his mind was set.
So he turned around and headed toward the dungeons.
Well, he had always been known for being brave, not a brainiac. And while he did have a chance of running into the very person he was avoiding, he figured he could duck into a shadow and be safe. Besides, Draco never struck him as a hallway lurker.
As he walked down a particularly shadowed hall, he couldn't suppress a shudder when a cold chill washed over him. He never really liked the dungeons. Not because they were dark and musty; that he didn't mind. It more had to do with the fact that this could've been his life had he not asked the sorting hat to place him in his current House.
But he didn't like dealing with the Would Have Beens and especially not the Actually Weres. That was why he was in his current situation. That was why he was walking down a dingy dungeon corridor. That was why he--
"Ouch!"
--ran into the resident Potions master.
Rubbing his sore arm where he had fallen against the wall, Professor Snape glared at Harry challengingly. "You do realize that you're way out of your territory, Potter," he ground out semi-maliciously, knowing full well that he was wasting his breath and his time insulting someone who refused to take the bait. He had found that one out on the first day back to classes after the war, when he had made an oh-so-astute comment about how Harry had managed to save them all from peril yet again. When he had gotten no response, no scathing comeback, no ferocious glare, not even a batted eye, he realized that his normal days of insulting Harry were over.
After that his life had turned into pure chaos. When he wasn't dealing with Draco's anger problems, he was dealing with keeping his insults in check around Harry. Things were changing. If for the better, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't stupid, not by a long shot. He noticed Harry staring at Draco, had even busted the teen on it a few times. But he also noticed that the stares weren't one-sided. And when he had questioned Draco on it a few months ago, he had received only a vague response. And once again he reminded himself that he wasn't stupid.
Thoughts returning once again to the current situation, Snape regarded the teen with a scrutinizing gaze, which Harry returned defiantly. It was almost like his lack of talking allowed the Gryffindor to grow a spine. Snape almost laughed at his inner musings. With a cool gaze, he said to Harry, "It's a Saturday afternoon, Potter. Most normal people would be outside in the sun, not wandering aimlessly down a windowless corridor." And with that, he continued on his way, inwardly smirking at leaving the teen dumbfounded.
And Harry was certainly dumbfounded. He wasn't expecting to run into anyone, least of all Snape. And he most definitely didn't expect to leave the encounter on an almost pleasant note. This day could not possibly get any stranger.
He decided that now would be as good a time as any to leave the dungeons. But as he climbed the stairs, he pondered where exactly he could go. He was in the same predicament as earlier. Although now he thought that his tower might be a safe option. Snape was right; most of the students should be outside right now. And most students included Draco. The odds were in Harry's favor, really.
So he decided to chance it. As he ascended the hidden staircase in the passageway, his heart sped up a bit with apprehension. There was always that chance that Draco was going to be in there. He didn't know what he would do if he met the blonde.
At the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath before quietly opening the door. Peering around it, he saw no sign of the other teen. Heaving a sigh of relief, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. At least that was one thing he didn't have to deal with.
Making his way over to the window, he flopped down on the sill and closed his eyes, silently basking in the sunrays that tumbled over him. This was exactly what he needed right now.
Unfortunately, it was not what he would receive. At a slight shuffling, his eyes flew open and whipped about the room. There was nothing--no one--there. He must have just been hearing things.
But then he heard it again. And when Draco's head appeared from thin air, Harry was so startled that he lost his balance and smacked the back of his head against the window.
As the rest of Draco was uncovered from where he was standing across the room, he said, "You're not the only one with an invisibility cloak." He proceeded to fold the cloak and set it down on the ground, which he had inspected for sufficient cleanliness before doing so. Turning back to Harry, he teased, "So, you've been avoiding me?" There was a hint of honestly in the question, and he already knew it was true. He just wanted it to be acknowledged, to show Harry that he--Draco--had indeed noticed.
Harry's lack of response wasn't surprising. No nod, no frown, just eyes. Those seemingly endless eyes that showed how Harry thought he was damned. Draco always could read the other teen's eyes quite well. He had mastered the skill after Harry had stopped talking.
Gracefully settling down on the stone floor, he said, "Potter, we need to talk." And when Harry gave him a dirty look, Draco didn't correct himself. He meant what he said. "The thing is," he continued smoothly, "you have become quite the novelty around school. More so than usual."
Harry could feel the glare slipping from his face. He knew the blonde would never leave him alone until he got what he wanted. Harry supposed there was no way for him to stay sane while continuing to dodge these confrontations. Sighing in defeat, he sank slowly to the ground, leaning up against the wall.
Draco had really expected Harry to put up more of a fight than this. Perhaps he was ready to give in, to explain himself. But as he observed the other teen bring his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs, Draco could see that Harry was still too withdrawn. It was time to up the ante a bit.
"You have quite the ideal setup, Potter." At Harry's questioning glance, he continued with a wave of his hand. "This whole mute business. Quite ingenious, really. Everyone is walking on eggshells around you, even months later. You could get away with anything. Even murder."
He watched as Harry's fists clenched, jaw tightening, but still he just sat there, staring straight ahead.
"But I guess you wouldn't know anything about how to utilize a good situation. You *are* a Gryffindor, after all." He paused, waiting for any indication that his words broke through. He was greeted with nothing. Nothing physical, anyway. He could feel the tension rising in the room, could practically taste it. He was close and getting closer.
With a lazy smile, Draco said, "It's only fitting that you turned out the way that you did. Look at the people who you frequent your time with." He had long since abandoned calling Harry's friends by their insulting nicknames, but that didn't mean he had any sort of liking for either of them. He knew that Harry was fiercely loyal and that his comments would strike a chord.
When Harry's eyes narrowed just a fraction, Draco added, "But I suppose you can't blame it all on your friends. Look at your upbringing. And your parents--"
Before he could even finish his statement, Draco found his throat being jabbed rather forcefully by Harry's wand. Taking the opportunity he had been waiting for, Draco smirked. "It's not quite as effective without being able to say the curse, now is it?" He was answered with another painful jab. This had better work. He wouldn't want to have gained a bruise on his throat for nothing, and he knew one was already forming.
"Poor pathetic Potter. What are you going to do with your life now? You're being left behind. After graduation, after that... No parents. No godfather. Not even your friends. You'll be all alone."
All alone... Harry's hand trembling, his still outstretched wand vibrating against Draco's column of throat. He briefly shut his eyes, only to open them again and find Draco's hard gaze boring into him, trying to force his next move.
"All alone," Draco repeated with a deadly calm.
That was all it took. At once Harry's wand was forgotten as he tackled Draco to the cold stone floor, throwing wild punches at the blonde through angry tear-filled eyes. He knew most of his hits weren't connecting, weren't causing too much damage, but he swung anyway. He felt a strange satisfaction when his right fist connected with Draco's jaw, felt an almost primal urge to continue hitting him, to watch the trickle of crimson flow into a river...
And then he stopped in midswing, horror washing over him. What was he doing?
But he had no time to contemplate this as Draco suddenly pushed Harry off of him and had reversed their positions so that Harry was the one being hit. Draco threw punch after punch, not relenting even as Harry's face contorted with pain and eyes refilled with tears. He was going to end this thing right now. "It's not just about you, you know!" Draco spat out. "Others lost people, too!"
And when Harry didn't respond, Draco only punched harder. "Why"--punch--"won't"--punch--"you"--jab--"talk!" He reached his fist back, ready to deliver it with full force.
Just before his fist made contact with Harry's left eye, Harry cried out, "Stop!"
Huffing and puffing, Draco's arms fell limply to his sides. He was shocked, and he didn't know why. This was the whole point of his plan. But hearing Harry speaking after seven months...
Leaning back, Draco fell into a sitting position. Still breathing heavily, he offered a hand to the equally out-of-breath Gryffindor.
Eyeing the hand wearily, Harry hesitantly grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up, his bruised body inwardly protesting. He was startled with Draco asked quietly, "So you *can* talk?"
He was caught. There was no denying anything now. He nodded, a force of habit. Clearing his throat, he answered, "Yes, I can talk." He sighed, knowing that questions were going to be asked and that his answers would inevitably follow. He only hoped he was strong enough to give them. "I can talk," he repeated slowly. "There is nothing physically wrong with me."
His implication hung heavily in the air, mingling with the almost suffocating tension and the quickly rising inner turmoil. Draco noticed Harry's reluctance to talk, but he wasn't about to let the other teen get away without an explanation, without the truth. Harry desperately needed to talk, and Draco was going to make him. "All this time..." Draco shook his head. "Why did you do it? What happened that day that made you stop speaking?"
Harry felt memories start to flood over him, drown him. Image after image flashed in his mind, unrelenting barrages of the hell he had been witness to. Forcefully pushing them down to a dull roar, he answered, "What *didn't* happen that day? Sorry," he muttered as he noticed Draco's confused expression. "For a fraction of a second, the world ceased to exist. Voldemort had won. I had lost--had let the entire wizarding world down." Eyes downcast, he admitted, "In that fraction of a second, I gave up hope, surrendered. And that scared me."
"But those are all normal feelings," Draco argued, hand gesturing emphatically. Naturally Harry was going to feel those things briefly. He had, after all, defeated Voldemort at the ripe young age of seventeen. Only a crazed idiot could have done that and not felt some doubt along the way. "Surely that's not the reason why you stopped talking?"
"It's not..." Harry was amazed at how easy it was to start talking again. To another person, that was. Over the months, when in complete isolation from everyone, he would talk to himself to keep his voice from weakening. But as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was mute. "It's much worse than that. I..." he trailed off, unable to continue.
Leaning forward, Draco placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, only to have it shrugged off violently.
"I don't deserve pity, especially not from you," he ground out bitterly, "especially not after what I did."
"What did you do?" Draco asked after a pregnant pause. At this point, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but he was going to remain strong, for Harry's sake.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing labored. For a fleeting moment he thought he might pass out. But then he took a deep breath. Draco deserved to hear this. Harry would give him that much. Drawing in another ragged breath, he whispered, "I killed your father."
Draco blinked in obvious confusion, unsure that he had heard correctly. Harry killed his father? Impossible. Maybe the other teen had finally lost it and Draco never noticed... but he would have noticed, so there had to be another explanation. "What are you saying? *I* was the one that killed my father."
"I almost killed you, too."
Almost unconsciously, Draco's left hand slipped under his shirt to run across his no-longer-flawless stomach. Gentle fingers met cool, puckered skin, a jagged scar that sliced across the otherwise smooth expanse of his stomach. It had been a parting gift from Lucius, his dear father. He probably could have had the scar magicked away, but he kept it to remind himself that he was still alive, that he had chosen the right path. "What are you talking about?"
Harry sighed deeply, painfully. "In order to defeat Voldemort, I used a spell to invoke a lot of Dark magic. It was something I had been working on in secret. Not even Dumbledore knew. The spell was powerful, dangerous, and it--it affected me."
"Affected you how"
Harry opened his eyes again but refused to look up from the ground. "I felt this surge, this wave of power course through me, enveloping me, drowning me. It felt... evil. And for a minute, *I* felt evil." His voice was trembling as was his body, but he plowed on. "I was running toward Voldemort when Lucius blocked me. But I didn't want him. I wanted to kill him, yes, but I wasn't going to waste my energy because I was so focused on going after Voldemort. I told him that I had seen you just minutes
before, that you were apprehending Death Eaters left and right. I even pointed him in the right direction." Haunted, cloudy emeralds looked up to meet Draco's gaze. "I sent him toward you, knowing he would be killed, that he was as good as dead."
This was all new to Draco. He had see his father running toward him, had exchanged a few brief sentiments before the curses started flying. He never even stopped to wonder how Lucius had known where he was when they hadn't seen each other throughout that last battle. Draco's hand once again found itself tracing his scar, an imperceptible shudder engulfing his body. And he remembered all that it stood for to him. Looking Harry squarely in the eye, he said firmly, "My father was dead to me long before I met you."
Harry's throat constricted painfully. "Your mother went rushing after him..."
And Draco saw his mother running toward him, just in time to see the fatal blow delivered to Lucius. In a crazed outrage, Narcissa had raised her want to her only son but was struck dead before she could even open her mouth. It was the first and only time Draco had cried. Not for the loss of his parents, but for the gain of his freedom.
"Listen to me," he said harshly to Harry, making the Gryffindor wince. "My parents were Death Eaters. Their deaths were inevitable. While I would rather have not been the one with the pleasure of killing them, I can't exactly change it now. It doesn't matter. I got over it. You need to get over your shit, too."
"But it's not that easy!" Harry cried, shaking hands clutching tightly at the hem of his shirt. "I can still see him, can still feel what I felt when I was going after him. I--I tortured him. For a long time. I wanted him to feel pain, feel pain like I have felt all my life. I wanted him to suffer at my hands." Voice cracking, he whispered, "I was evil."
"No." Draco reached forward and gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, startling him. "You were not evil. It was all of that Dark magic you had invoked. You stopped him. You saved the world from being his playground. You saved all of the half-blood and Muggle wizards from being killed. You are *not* evil," he repeated quietly, shaking Harry to try to get his words to sink in.
"Sometimes... sometimes I could still feel the Dark magic inside of me, calling to me... I would wake up in the middle of the night with these feelings of bloodlust. It frightened me. It still does." His hands raised to cover the hands that were on his shoulders. "I don't want to feel this way," he said desperately, collapsing forward with a sob.
Catching the broken teen in his arms, Draco pulled their bodies tightly together as he stroked Harry's damp raven hair. He didn't have much experience comforting others. He didn't deal with emotions well, or at all, but his entire mindframe was in comforting Harry.
They sat that way for quite some time, the only noise Harry's soft whimpers that eventually died down to hiccups. The entire time, Draco never relinquished his hold, only pressed his face into the unruly mop of hair. He could feel Harry's heartbeat, could hear his breaths even out. Apparently all of that guilt and sorrow had exhausted him.
Moving his head back, Draco turned his eyes to Harry's face, who met his stare. There were no tears, but the emerald orbs were rimmed with the slightest hint of red.
"Why?" Harry voiced out.
"Why what?"
"Why did you make me talk? Why do you care about me, especially after what I did to you?"
"What you did *for* me," Draco corrected, "and we already discussed that. The world deserved to hear you speak. You deserve to be a part of this world. And I care... I care because I do." He reached a lone finger up to trace Harry's cheek, down to his jaw before his hand fully cupped Harry's angular chin. "I cared long before the war. I cared much more after."
Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Harry asked, "Do you mean..."
But he knew the answer. Draco's expression was one of pure honesty, one that he had never worn before. "I want you to be happy, Harry. And I would be ecstatic if you were happy... with me."
Harry almost couldn't believe his ears. What he had wished for and even suspected on occasion had just been confirmed. But how could he be with Draco after everything he had put the blonde through? "But what about--"
His words were muffled as his mouth was suddenly covered by Draco's. Surprised but certainly not disappointed, Harry brought a hand up to the back of Draco's neck and pulled him closer, leaving no space between their hard-breathing bodies.
Sighing as the kiss deepened, Draco felt like this was the most natural thing in the world, like they had been together like this for ages. It was comfortable yet exciting, both mind-melting and steamy. For a split second he smirked to himself. He knew his idea would work!
Giving a few lingering kisses at the corner of Harry's mouth, Draco asked," So how do you feel now?"
With a slight upturn of his lips, Harry replied breathlessly, "Like everything will be better from now on."
"And it will be," Draco promised, kissing Harry's palm before clasping it firmly. "I'll make sure of that."
Settling comfortably in Draco's arms, Harry stroked the pale skin of Draco's hand with his thumb. "So what do I do now?"
"Now you show the world that Harry Potter still lives on."
Harry twisted around to face the blonde. "You'll help me, right?"
Softly caressing Harry's lips with his own, Draco murmured, "Always."
The two stood, hand in hand, and left the tower that had now become their own.
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The end! Say it with me now: aww... You all know me and my fluffy endings. I just couldn't put up with the angst any more! I hope I did both the fluff and the angst some justice. I tried sooooo hard on this fic to make everything as believable as possible. And I must say that it's one of my favorites (right up there with HLaS and Masterpiece).
I want to thank everyone for the wonderful support you have shown in the production of this fic. It means the moon and stars to me, it really does. You guys are the amazing ones. I'm just the writer.
Wow. I can't believe this fic is over already. It seems like I just started it! It's sad to be finished. Actually, I'm thinking about doing an epilogue where Harry announces to everyone that he can talk again. What do you guys think? Should I go for an epilogue or leave it standing, as is? Please let me know!
I love you guys more than I love my Sailor Moon alarm clock (that's a lot of love right there). I hope you all will continue to be entertained by my upcoming fics (I do have a lot of them in the works), so stay tuned for them!