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The Years After	By : Araea Swiftwind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2598 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money off the writing of this piece of fiction. The views expressed herein do not in any way reflect the views of J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros. and their affiliates.

Chapter List
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Title: The Years After
Author: Kitty Savella
Rating: M
Pairing: Draco/Harry with a little Remus/Sirius and Remus/Severus (James/Lily and Lucius/Narcissa a given)
Total Story Word Count: 64,276
Summary: It wasn't so much the thing that defined his life as it was the years after. COMPLETE HP/DM RL/SB RL/SS LM/NM JP/LP
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wrote this for my own amusement, not money.
Warnings: Boy/Boy kissing, implied adult activities, AU, mentions of abuse and neglect, Evil!Dumbledore, Good!Dark Side, Character Death (not main character), Character Life (some characters that were dead are alive in this story)

A/N: Brain wants to die. Feed it reviews so that it comes back to life. <3

This story is predominantly about the platonic relationships that develop over the course of the years. It focuses on feelings of familial love, happiness, and belonging. This is at best preslash. There are no explicit encounters between males, or even explicit encounters between males and females. It simply isn't that kind of story. If that isn't your cup of tea, please turn back and find something that is. This story deals with quite a few time jumps, but I believe that they all make quite a bit of sense. If you need a reference for why certain dates were chosen, feel free to check the HP Lexicon. And even though this story is a bit AU, it mostly follows the events as they happened for the first ten years of the story—with minor tweaks, of course.

I have never worked so hard on something in my life. The whole story took days of solid work to finish, and I still don't know if I'm satisfied with it. It was a lot of very hard work and sore hands and a brain that just wouldn't function anymore. But it's done, and it's the longest thing I've ever written, and I hope you like it.

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Part 1 – Prologue Part 1 – Oct. 31, 1981

Voldemort was sitting in a high-backed chair in the middle of the Malfoy's grandest drawing room. Ranged around him were dozens of figures in black hooded cloaks, white masks hiding their faces. To his left was a tall figure, the hood of this cloak pulled up and the porcelain mask firmly in place. He didn't need to see the man's face to know who he was. The stiffness to his shoulders alone would give him away in a crowd. But here, at Voldemort's side, it was his position more than anything that let all know who he was. His Potions Master and spy, Severus Snape. To his right was another tall figure, his hood and mask also in place. His stature denoted a certain level of breeding and poise, his position denoted his favor in the Dark Lord's court. His name was Lucius Malfoy, and he was the owner of the Manor they were currently in.

They were all silent as they waited for the arrival of the newest member of their ranks. The lowest ranked members were looking around anxiously, shifting their weight from side to side. Those who had been in the Dark Lord's service for the longest knew better to show their anxiety or impatience. The Dark Lord did not appreciate the lack of decorum. In his opinion, only children fidgeted when they had to wait.

It didn't take much longer for the new arrival to scamper into the room. He was a small, squat man with scraggly hair the color of sandy dirt. His shoulders were hunched and he kept his gaze on the ground as he moved through the space. It was clear to see that this man was a total coward. As he stopped in front of the Dark Lord's chair, he fell to the ground and whimpered his platitudes. Voldemort sneered at him, disgust evident in his every feature. If he didn't need the information this rat contained, he'd kill him straight off. The world would be better off without his vile presence.

“Do you have the information that you promised, Wormtail?”

The disgrace of a man whimpered, “Yes, Master. Of course, Master.” He didn't say anything more, simply shuddered in his lump on the floor.

Voldemort raised one dark eyebrow and frowned. “Well?” He didn't like to be kept waiting.

Wormtail puled again, curling tighter into himself. “The S-secret is: The Po-potters reside at the l-last house on the l-left in Go-godric's Ho-hollow.”

'Ah,' he thought, 'of course. Dumbledore would hide him in such a place.'

The Dark Lord was quite pleased to have the information he needed. And now that the message had been passed, it was time to tie up a loose end.

“You have been such a help, Wormtail. I shall give you what you deserve.”

Wormtail looked up slightly and smiled, saying, “Thank you, Master. Thank you.”

Voldemort sneered. Gryffindors could be so terribly stupid. He stood so that all could see him clearly. He paused for effect before drawing his wand and pointing it at the sniveling mass on the floor. “Thank you for your assistance, but you will no longer be necessary. Avada Kedavra!” Before Wormtail could do anything, a brilliant green light shot out of the end of the Dark Lord's wand and pierced him in the chest. For long moments the words of the curse echoed around the room.

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

The night was dark and chill. Wispy clouds flowed across the sky, occasionally dimming the light from the fool moon. No one walked the streets of the little town. It was late enough that all the children had finished their bids for candy hours earlier. Everyone was now safely ensconced in their homes, their fires burning cheerily.

Voldemort had finally received the last piece of the puzzle that had been plaguing him for the last several days. He had called a meeting of his followers to prepare for this night, and the next several as well. They were going to eliminate the threat to their bid for power, and in do doing, cripple the Light side. During that meeting, his most pathetic follower had bared his soul and betrayed his friends. For his pitiful show of loyalty, he received a swift death.

And now, Voldemort felt prepared to put his plan into action. Severus had proven his loyalty by bringing him information that betrayed no one but the wizened ass that called himself the Greatest Wizard of the Age. With this newfound information, he would have his revenge. He would not allow that doddering old fool to best him. He would not allow a single babe to be his downfall.

Using the night for cover, Voldemort had apparated into Godric's Hollow to kill the Potter child. Now he walked slowly from his apparition point up the lane to the Potters' house. No one noticed the most evil Dark Lord since Grindelwald striding through the square. Not a soul peeped through the curtains to see what was happening out in the night. It took him less than ten minutes to make the trek to his destination. Eleven minutes and he had gained the gate. Minute twelve had him standing ready at the door. No need to knock for an errand such as this.

Voldemort raised his wand slowly and pointed it with a steady hand at the door. He didn't particularly enjoy this errand, but it could be left to no one else and must be done. He took a deep breath and summoned more power than was probably strictly necessary. Better to over do it than under do it, however. He loosed the curse without a sound.

As he blasted open the front door, James was there to stand in front of him, ready to lay down his life for his son. He knew exactly what this monster is doing in his home, and he would have none of it. He'd been an Auror for the last few years, and believed that he could do what must be done to protect his family. But an Auror was nothing next to the Dark Lord. Voldemort released a cold, cruel laugh and stunned James Potter with so powerful a spell that a simple Enervate wouldn't suffice. The man fell to the floor in a slump. Only powerful magic would wake him now; he wouldn't be a problem any time soon.

Voldemort paused for a moment to listen to the noises in the house; it was the easiest way to locate his quarry without the use of magic. He heard hushed whispers upstairs and the muted cries of a child. His lips quirked into a sardonic smile. Futile, trying to hide from him. He ascended the stairs slowly, knowing that the anticipation of his arrival would be doing delightful things to Lily Potter's mind.

It took him five minutes to reach the door, behind which his prey waited in fear. Standing there for a long moment, he allowed the feeling of triumph to flow through him. In moments, it would all be over. In moments, he would be the victor and the Light wouldn't have a leg to stand on. With an evil grin replacing his sardonic smile, he blasted open the door to the nursery as he had done to the one downstairs. The occupants of the room where exactly where he had expected them to be. Lily was knelt before the cot, her hands holding her son's pudgy ones through the bars. He was crying and mewling in fear, fat tears standing out in his emerald eyes. She was whispering words of love and comfort to him. He almost felt sorry for the woman; it wouldn't be enough.

"Stand aside", he said drawing himself up, making himself look more imposing. He had promised his most loyal Severus that he would not kill this woman, and unless she did something to provoke his wrath, he would keep his word.

True to form, she refused. As a mother, she could not simply “stand aside” and let someone kill her child. It was unthinkable. Voldemort rolled his eyes and cast the same stunner at her as he did her husband downstairs.

Now that the parents were out of the way, he could focus on his real target. The child of prophecy. The foretold vanquisher of the Dark Lord. He would be granted no mercy. The prophecy said he would know power the Dark Lord knew not, and that neither should live whilst the other survived. Well, he would take care of that.

His wand rose and leveled at the squalling child. A breath, a heartbeat, and then the curse. The poisonous green spell shot out of the tip of the wand and headed straight for the boy. Any second now and it would be over. He waited, wanting to see the light fade in the child's eyes. But the second passed, then the next. The infant's screams only grew louder, instead of cutting off abruptly. Something had gone wrong. The light had stopped before it got to him; it simply winked out.

Voldemort was quite baffled. No, it did not make sense. The prophecy said... One was supposed to kill the other. It should have worked. But, no. The prophecy also said that he'd know power the Dark Lord knew not...maybe this was that power. It bore further study. Something was definitely not right.

Below, the sounds of curious calls and people milling around caught the Dark Lord's attention. His entrance to the home must have drawn more attention than he had imagined it would. Damn his need for ostentation. His time was quite short, but he wanted answers. He needed to know what went wrong, but he would go now and bide his time. He would find out what had stopped his curse from hitting the Potter child. And then he would return. If the child was lucky, he would be allowed to live.

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

There were dozens of people crowding the main lane of Godric's Hollow. Women in long dressing gowns with sleep caps on their head and men in heavy robes with worn slippers were standing around in little groups and whispering feverishly to each other. It was clear to any newcomer that something had happened.

It grew more congested as the old fellow walked further up the lane. More women and men were grouped together, and even some children had found their way out of bed and onto the scene. Everyone was so concerned with talking to each other that they ignored all of the strangely dressed people moving closer to the house on the corner.

An old woman was standing just outside the gate, seemingly keeping others from entering the house. She looked a bit stern and kept leveling glares on anyone who dared get too close. The old man who had been walking down the lane stopped in front of her and gave her a grim smile.

“Have you been inside yet, Bathilda?” He asked, looking beyond her at the ruined front door.

She shook her head and moved to allow him to pass if he was so inclined. “No. Once I saw what happened to the front door, and poor James' body on the floor, I figured it'd be better to wait for you to arrive. Didn't want to disrupt something that might help you figure out who did this and why. Been keeping everyone else away.”

He nodded in understanding and thanks, glad that he wouldn't have to deal with any interlopers. If what happened was what he thought had happened, he had to spin things just right. There were some amongst the people who would get quite distraught if he didn't give them something else to think about. Which reminded him, “Have they tried to get in, yet?” He felt certain she'd know what he meant.

She shook her head again. “No, haven't seen them. Should I make them wait out here when they arrive?”

He smiled at the thoughtful question. He could always count on Bathilda to do what he needed her to do and understand the delicacies of the situation. “Yes, please do. I don't know what I'll find in there, and it would be best that they waited until I come out to go in.”

Bathilda gave him a hard little smile of understanding. “Sure thing, Albus.”

The wizard returned the smile and moved past her, going slowly so as to not miss anything that could be important. He took note of the completely destroyed door; it held signed of a powerful blasting curse. On the floor just inside the entryway was the slumped over body of James Potter. His eyes were closed and his chest was gently rising and falling. 'Not dead, then. Pity,' Albus thought to himself. He had been certain that Tom would have finished them off in his attempt on the child. He had been counting on that so that he didn't have any trouble with the next part of his plan.

Stepping over the body, Albus moved next to the stairs. They led straight up to the second floor, not turns or landings. He made short work of them and entered into the upstairs hallway. On either side were doors. Two on the left, two on the right, and one directly ahead. The last door on the right was not the same as the other four. This door was hanging off its hinges and bore the same tell-tale marks of a blasting curse. That was where he needed to go.

Inside the room was a similar scene to the entryway downstairs. On the floor was a slumped over body, eyes closed and chest gently rising and falling. But the main difference in this room was the very-much awake infant in the cot across the room. He wasn't crying or fussing, simply lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. As Albus got closer, the child's gaze shifted to him.

For all intents and purposes, the child was perfectly fine. He bore no marks of struggle or pain. There were no blemishes on his pale skin. Albus found that quite strange. The prophecy said that the Dark Lord would mark him as his equal. How could that be if there were no marks? He shook his head and left the thought to ponder over later. Right now, he had to move the child to a secure location.

As Albus bent down to pick up the child, a flare of magic lashed out at him. He stumbled backwards in shock. He hadn't been expecting that. Cautiously, he moved closer again. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Slowly, he bent down and attempted to pick up the child. A warning crackle of magic sounded as he got within touching distance. 'So, the boy doesn't like to be touched. We'll just have to work around that.' The old man lifted his wand and cast a non-verbal sleeping spell at the child. If he wasn't awake, he couldn’t lash out. It worked, and he was able to pick up the child without problem. A second later, they were gone.
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The Years After