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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Part 11 – Chapter 9 - July 29, 1992

The day of the 29^th of July dawned cloudy and a little chillier than normal. It wasn’t truly cold, but the clouds masked the sun enough that there was a cool breeze. Harry was feeling curious about the meeting his Uncle ‘Volo had been going to for the last several months. He knew that the man was important, but he didn’t exactly understand why. He thought to seek out someone to answer his questions.

First, he tried Uncle ‘Volo’s study, but the man wasn’t in. Next, he looked for Miss Narcissa in her solar, but she wasn’t around. A house elf told Harry that she had left for a brunch with another important lady, and wouldn’t return until late in the afternoon. Feeling a little downhearted, Harry tried mister Lucius’ study. The door was closed, and Harry could hear mister Lucius yelling at someone on the other side. Not wanting to get yelled at himself, Harry quickly ran off. There was only one more person in the house who could answer his questions, and loath as he was to go to him, Harry really wanted his questions answered.

“Draco?” Harry rapped on the boy’s door quietly, half hoping the boy wasn’t awake yet, or had gone out.

“What?” Draco’s answer was less than comforting. He sounded half asleep and quite grumpy.

“Um…I had some questions…and since no one else is here to answer them…I thought maybe…you could?” Harry was fast thinking this was a bad idea, and that he should just turn and run. But he really wanted his questions answered. He needed to know what was going on in the house.

“Fine…give me a minute.” Harry could hear Draco banging around in his room, and couldn’t fathom what was going on that made so much noise. After a few moments, the door opened and a sleepy Draco was ushering Harry inside.

Harry had never been inside Draco’s room before. The room was much like his own, only this room was decorated in Slytherin colors. It was full of the same opulence, with an overlarge bed, luxurious fabrics, and plush carpets. Draco’s room featured all of his crystal dragon figurines. There were at least 24 dragons perched around the room. On the boy’s vanity was the silver snake Harry had given him for his birthday.

Draco, having quickly tired of Harry’s obvious snooping, cleared his throat. “You had questions? What are they? Make it quick, if you please.”

The dark haired boy swallowed and stopped his goggling at the room. He actually pulled into himself a bit, worried that he was annoying the blond to the point of anger. “I’m sorry. I can go…”

The blond sighed and raked a hand through his already messy hair. He hadn’t bothered to comb it when he climbed out of bed. He needed to remember that he couldn’t speak with Harry the same as he would with his friends Crabbe and Goyle. Harry couldn’t handle the rough handling as well as those two lumbering idiots.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m a bit gruff in the mornings. What did you want to know?” Draco made a gesture to one of the comfortable looking couched in front of his fireplace. There was no fire in the grate today, but it was still a comfortable place to sit. After a moment or two of thought, Harry sat down.

“I wanted to know more about Uncle ‘Volo,” Harry started. He was fiddling with his fingers nervously, not really sure if he should continue with his questions. He really didn’t want the blond mad at him for being stupid.

Draco raised one sculpted blond eyebrow, wondering where Harry was going with his question. “What about him?”

“Well, I guess first I want to know if his name is really Marvolo? That was what he told me to call him…Uncle Marvolo. But when I got here, I couldn’t say the whole thing, which is why I called him Uncle ‘Volo…and I guess it just stuck. But none of the rest of you call him that…so that’s why I was wondering…”

"No, Harry. His name is Voldemort, but all of his followers call him the Dark Lord, like my parents and my godfather, Severus."

"Ok, so his name is Vol…Volde…Voldemort? No wonder he had me call him something else. ‘Uncle Voldemort’ is quite the mouthful, especially when I couldn’t really speak very well.” Harry paused a moment to think of this next question. Something Draco had said grabbed his attention. “What's a Dark Lord anyways? Is it like a king or something? Is that why he has followers?"

"I suppose, in a way. He's the leader for the Dark side. And he does want to rule the Wizarding world, so I suppose he'll be the king then..." Draco had never thought much about what would happen once the Dark Lord won the war.

"The Dark side of what?" Harry didn't much understand the words that Draco was using. He had no idea what a Dark Lord was, or why his Uncle 'Volo would be one.

Draco sighed. He probably wasn’t the best one to be fielding these questions. He was sure he was going to say something he wasn’t supposed to, but no one coached him on what to tell Harry if he came asking questions. Probably because no one thought Harry would go to Draco for answers, no after their last awful conversation.

“First, you have to know that there is a war going on. It’s not that bad right now, but it’s still there. There are usually two sides to every war, though I guess there could be more than two sides. Anyway, there are two sides in this war. The Dark Side, and the Light Side. The Dark Lord commands the forces for the Dark Side. They are called Death Eaters. The meetings he goes to every day are with those people, telling them what to do and hearing what information they have. My father and Severus are both Death Eaters. Mum isn’t, though. The Dark Lord never made her join. He knows her first loyalty is to the family, and in this case, he thinks it should be. Our family is important.”

Harry took several moment to try and process everything Draco said. There were two sides to this war that’s going on. A Dark Side and a Light Side. And Uncle ‘Volo was leader for the Dark Side. Ok. “So, who leads the other side?”

“A man named Albus Dumbledore. He’s the headmaster of the school I go to.”

“Um…which side is the good side?”

Draco stopped to think himself for a moment. He never really thought about it that way. He just knew that he was on the Dark Side, so was against the Light Side. He knew that the Dark Side had some really good points, and the Light Side was against those things…but he never really stopped to think if those things would be considered good things. He knew that the Light Side wanted people to be safe, and that all of this fighting wasn’t keeping people safe. But he didn’t think that the Dark Lord was bad, or evil or anything. He wanted his people to be safe, too. Safe from persecution for practicing magic they wanted to practice. And there were Dark creatures who were on the Dark Side who needed the Dark Lord to keep them safe, because the people on the Light Side wanted to hurt them.

“I don’t know… I don’t know if there is a good side.”

Harry scrunched up his face a little, not seeing how there couldn’t be a good side. “But, doesn’t someone have to be right, and someone have to be wrong? The person who is right is the good side, and the person who is wrong is the bad side.”

Draco nearly smiled, but remembered just in time that Harry and he weren’t really friends. It wouldn’t do for him to give Harry the wrong idea. But the boy had a very simplistic view of the world. “Not ever conflict has someone who is right and someone who is wrong. Sometimes, both people are right, and both people are wrong. They each have things they are right about, and they each have things they are wrong about. In wars like that, it’s the stronger force that wins, not necessarily the good person, or the one who is right.”

Head spinning, Harry leaned back in his seat. He wasn’t sure that he fully understood. Even though Draco was trying to speak to Harry’s level of understanding, there were still some concepts that were too advanced for the boy. But he was pretty sure he got the gist of what the other boy was saying.

“So, in this war, neither side is right…or actually they are both right? And both wrong?”

“Exactly. Both sides have good points, and both sides have bad points.”

“So, the strongest person wins…but what happens to the loser?”

Draco scratched the top of his head and looked off into the distance. This was another thing he hadn’t really thought much about. To him, it didn’t matter if the Light Side lost, because it would just mean his side won. But what would happen to the losers?

“I don’t know, Harry. I’m sure we could ask, though.”

“Okay.”

After that line of questioning had stopped, both boys sat in silence for a while, neither knowing what to say. Ten minutes or so passed before Draco decided he wanted to ask a few questions of his own.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

Harry, startled out of his thoughts, sat up. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer some questions. It didn’t really go that well last time. But, Draco did answer his questions without yelling, so it would be the least Harry could do.

“I guess so. What do you want to know?”

“What happened to your parents? I mean, why were you living with your relatives?”

Harry huddled into himself a little bit. He didn’t really like to talk much about the time before this, when he lived with those people. But Draco was being nice, so he would answer.

“Uncle ‘Volo said the fell into a deep sleep that they couldn't wake up from and were sent away with their two best friends. I don’t really know anything else."

"Oh, so they're dead, then?" Draco asked casually, wanting to make sure he understood what Harry was saying. He didn’t even stop for a half second to realize how inconsiderate his question was. He didn’t stop to think how Harry would take the blunt inquiry.

Harry's eyes grew wide and tears began to fill them. He hadn't thought of it that way. Uncle 'Volo had said they were asleep...but isn't that what people say when they don't want to say that someone died? Aunt Petunia had told Dudley that his parrot had gone to sleep when it had died last summer. Why had Uncle 'Volo told him he might be able to see his parents, then? Was he just lying to make Harry feel better? Was Harry really a parent-less orphan that nobody wanted?

Draco's face had a look of shock and horror upon it when Harry began to cry. They weren't loud wails or heaving sobs, just soft sniffles with tears cascading thickly down his face. But loud or not, he still felt terrible that he caused them. He hadn't been trying to be mean. He was just curious. And if the Dark Lord knew he made his "nephew" cry…again… oh, man. He was going to die. The Dark Lord would come home and find out and simply avada kedavra Draco, and the blond would be no more. End of the Malfoy line.

"Don't cry, please don't cry. Um...maybe they are just asleep, okay? Look, I don't really know anything about it...don't cry...come on, Harry, I'm sorry." But nothing he said made Harry stop crying. The boy had curled in on himself and his little frame began shaking, sobs finally making their way out. Draco was sure he broke him. He stood up and paced for a few seconds, wringing his hands. He didn't know what to do. Slytherins don't cry, and he hadn't been around anyone who wasn't a Slytherin much. He’d seen what the Dark Lord did the last time Harry cried like this, but Draco wasn’t sure holding the other boy was really the right answer. There was only one thing Draco could do…call for help. "Dobby!"

When Dobby entered the room, he bowed low, his long nose touching the floor. Before straightening, Dobby asked, “What can Dobby be doing for Master Draco?”

Draco was still flustered, really not knowing what he’d do or what kind of trouble he’d be in. “Make Harry stop crying. Do something. I don’t know how to make it better.”

Dobby straightened quickly and assessed the situation. Master Harry was curled in on himself on the couch, crying his little heart out. Dobby was never a nanny elf, and Master Draco never cried like this. Dobby didn’t know what to do to make it all better either. He wrung his hands and then started smacking himself in the head. He needed to be punished for being a bad elf, not knowing how to help.

Now Draco was left with a silently crying Harry and a distressed house elf punishing itself. Draco could try to make Dobby stop hurting himself, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t do much good. Near tears himself, Draco called for another elf and had her go for his father. He knew that at this time of the morning, the man would be in his study, taking care of the tasks his many businesses needed taking care of. Even if Draco did get in trouble for making Harry cry again, it would be better than leaving the two to their distress.

It didn’t take long for Lucius to make it to Draco’s room. The man entered without knocking, and stopped almost immediately, in shock over the scene in front of him. He never expected Draco to be sat on his bed, tears in his eyes but not falling, Harry to be crying silently on the couch curled in a ball, and his house elf doing its best to destroy itself. He wasn’t sure which issue he should tackle first.

“Dobby, stop punishing yourself at once!” At least the house elf was easy to deal with. A command should make the thing stop. Dobby did stop hurting himself at once, but he was still wringing his hands.

“Dobby, you are excused.” The little elf popped away immediately. If the creature needed further punishment later, he could get the story from Draco.

Turning to his son, Lucius asked his first question. “What is going on?”

Draco got up and stood in front of his father. He felt so awful about making Harry cry again that he couldn’t look at his father. “Harry and I were talking, and it seemed to be going well…but I think I said something stupid, and Harry started crying. I couldn’t comfort him…I don’t know how…so I tried to call Dobby to help, but that stupid elf didn’t know anything either…so I had to call Mipsy and have her get you…I just…don’t know what to do.”

Lucius had never seen his son in such a state. The boy was usually so stoic around him, always trying to make his father proud. It spoke to how upset the boy was that the formalities were all discarded.

“What was the stupid think you believe you might have said to upset Harry?”

“I asked him if his parents were dead. I misunderstood what he was saying, and wanted clarification. I didn’t think about how he would react to the question.”

Lucius was first shocked, but that quickly turned to anger and disappointment. He had thought his son was smarter than that. He had thought his son had learned a lesson from the last conversation he had with Harry. Lucius was so angry with Draco, he couldn’t even speak to him. Instead, he turned and addressed Harry instead. He’d deal with Draco later. Harry was more important at the moment.

“Harry, are you well?” It was a stupid question, as it was quite clear that Harry wasn’t well, but Lucius felt he had to start somewhere. He wasn’t surprised to get no answer.

Moving closer to the boy, Lucius laid a hand on the youth’s unruly black hair. “Harry, is there anything I can do to help you?”

Harry didn’t answer. He continued to cry on the couch. But at the touch of Lucius’ hand, he curled just a little tighter in on himself. It didn’t bode well for getting the boy to calm down.

“Harry, I’d like to help you. I need you to talk to me. What can I do?”

Harry still didn’t answer. The questions continued along like that for several minutes. Lucius pleading and Harry refusing to answer. It was to that scene that Severus found both Malfoys and Harry. A house elf had informed him of Harry’s whereabouts, and Severus wanted to check the boy over. He needed to know if the nutrient potions were still working at their current strength, or if they needed to be adjusted. He was not expecting to find Harry in tears and both male Malfoys at a loss for what to do.

No one would ever say that Severus was a nurturing or cuddly man, but even he knew that standing at a distance with one hand on a child’s head was not the way to comfort him. Heaving a sigh, the dour man swooped in and saved the day. He scooped Harry off the couch and held him close. The boy instantly readjusted himself so that he was clinging to the potion’s master like a monkey. Giving the other two a nasty glare, the man left with the boy to calm him down.

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

Harry and Draco were sitting in the library the next day, each in their own overstuffed chair. Draco was sitting with his back to the window, facing Harry. Harry was sitting with his back to the door, facing Draco. They had been in the room for some time without speaking, simply basking in the quiet of the moment, books propped open on their laps. Draco had been thoroughly scolded the day before after making Harry cry…again. Harry had been calmed down by Severus, and soothed even further that evening when Voldemort returned. Harry had no hard feelings towards Draco. He realized that Draco wasn’t trying to be mean. And once he was assured that his parents weren’t dead, he felt much better.

Draco was the first to break the amiable silence. "So, tomorrow's your birthday, right? You'll be twelve, same as me."

"Is it? I wouldn't know. I've never had a birthday before." Harry wasn't looking at Draco; he had his nose buried in his book, trying desperately to understand everything it said. Some of the words were just too big, though.

"Really? Why not? I thought all children have birthdays."

Harry still hadn't looked up, trying to decipher a word that looked like absolute gibberish to him. "Don't know. My relatives just never celebrated my birthday. I think my cousin had a few, but I don't really remember."

"Only a few? Didn't you celebrate with them?" Draco had a look on his face as if he were offended. Maybe it was because, if he hadn't been invited to celebrate a relative's birthday, he would be.

Finally giving up on the word, Harry looked up. He took note of Draco's expression and tucked it away for later, when he could think on what it meant. "No. They locked me in the cupboard whenever they were doing something fun. Actually, they locked me in the cupboard anytime I didn't have to use the loo, come to think of it..."

Draco spluttered for a moment before finding his voice. He was aghast. "In a cupboard? As in, where they kept the brooms and things?"

"Yeah. That was my room for as long as I can remember. I had a little mattress and a thin blanket and a few of Dudley's broken army men. It wasn't so bad. I was usually warm." Harry actually smiled wistfully, thinking back on his cupboard. He liked where he was living now, but sometimes he missed the place where he grew up.

"Wow. And you were only let out to use the toilet?" It seemed unthinkable to the blond to be restricted so much. If he was only allowed to move about the Manor to use the toilet, he'd go 'round the bend.

"Yeah, if I made a big enough fuss about having to go. I remember when I was really little, my Aunt would make me wait until she felt like letting me out, and I didn't always make it. After that, she decided that most of the time she'd rather make me go on myself than worry about me mucking about the house."

Draco looked sick. "What about meals?"

Harry had a little frown on his face. "If I was really good, Aunt Petunia would give me a couple of crusts of bread and a small glass of water before bed. Only most of the time was the bread stale or moldy and the water had stuff floating in it."

His stomach sank and he whispered his next questions. "That's it? And what did you have to do to be really good?"

Tapping his chin, Harry lifted his head towards the ceiling and thought for a moment. "Um...I think I had to be really quite and not have to use the loo. If I pretended I didn't exist well enough, then I might get some food."

"You don't know for sure?" Draco's heart lurched. He'd never heard of something so terrible before. What were those Muggles thinking?

"No.” Harry shook his head slowly, still in thought. “Sometimes I'd do all of that and still not get any food. Maybe I pretended too well." He tried to make the last a joke. It fell flat.

Draco just wanted to wrap Harry up in a hug and tell him he'd never have to go through that again. It definitely completely changed the boys mind about not deserving the adults’ consideration. Actually, their treatment of him when he first arrived made much more sense. Draco probably would have tried to do even more. He couldn’t imagine being treated that way by his parents, or anyone, really. "That's awful."

"Is it? It's normal to me...been that way for as long as I can remember."

He couldn't let the boy keep thinking that. It was wrong, what they did. He had to try and make him understand. "But...your family is the one you're supposed to count on to be there for you when no one else is. They're supposed to love you and take care of you. When you're sad, those are the people you go to, to make you feel better. They aren't ever supposed to hurt you, at least not on purpose."

Harry looked Draco in the eye and wrinkled his brow. "But your father hits you with his cane all the time."

Draco shook his head as if to say that it wasn't the same thing at all. "Oh, but that doesn't really hurt. It's more of a warning tap than anything. Plus, he does it so that I behave. It's called 'punishment'. He doesn't do it to be mean or to hurt me."

The raven-haired boy looked skeptical. "I don't think my relatives did it to be mean, either. I think they just wanted me to behave," he asserted.

"But, see, that's where it's different. When I say that my father wants me to behave, I mean that he wants me to be nice to people and not embarrass the Malfoy name, not that he expects something impossible from me."

Harry stubbornly argued again. "My Aunt didn't want me to embarrass them either. That's why I had to be quiet and pretend like I didn't exist. I'm a really big embarrassment."

Draco scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. It was really starting to make him mad the way Harry kept on defending those monsters. He tried again. "No, you're still not getting it, Harry. Normal families don't think you're bad when you make any noise, or when you have to go to the toilet or if you want to eat or ask questions. Those things are normal for a child to do. Come on, think. Did your cousin get in trouble when he did those things?"

Harry said at once, "My cousin never got in trouble." He didn't even seem like he resented it. To him, it was simply a fact of life. Harry was a bother, and Dudley never got in trouble.

The older boy clenched his fists. "See. That's because they were being mean to you. If it was normal to have to pretend you didn't exist, your cousin would have to do that too. Did he get to eat when he was hungry? Did he have to ask to use the toilet?"

The younger boy seemed to be getting it now. His face was set in a much smaller frown. "No. He ate all the time, even when he wasn't hungry. And he went to the loo whenever he wanted. He didn't even have to leave the door open when he was in there."

Draco cringed at the mental image of Harry having to use the toilet with someone watching him. There were some things that adults should never do. Harry's relatives seemed to be doing them all. He would wait to ask if they had touched him inappropriately for another time, or perhaps he'd suggest that one of the adults did it. "And did he sleep in a cupboard, too?"

Harry shook his head slowly, finally catching on to what Draco had been driving at. It had only taken him so long because he really hadn't wanted to. "I don't think so. I remember someone saying something about Dudley's second bedroom..."

Draco rolled his eyes and let out a deep breath. "You mean to tell me that he got two bedrooms and you had to sleep in a cupboard on a hard little mattress with a thin little blanket?"

"Yes." Harry was looking decidedly uncomfortable now. It hurt to think of how poorly his family had been treating him. He'd much rather think about how much happier he was here at the Manor.

"Does my Father know about this?" He raised one delicate blond eyebrow in question.

"Probably.” Harry shrugged, just wanting to get the conversation over with. “He was there when Uncle 'Volo pulled me out of the cupboard. I think he put my Aunt to sleep, and my cousin too."

Draco privately thought that meant that his father killed them, but he knew better than to say that to Harry. The boy already seemed to be agitated. It wouldn’t do to make him so angry he went off to tell the Dark Lord, or so sad that he started crying. One crying fit during a conversation was more than enough for him. "Well, I think I'll go talk to him about it shortly."

Harry looked quite confused. "Why?"

Rolling his eyes again, Draco explained, "Well, if he knows about it in detail, he can do something about it."

Harry still wasn't getting it. "What's there to do? I'm not there anymore, so there's nothing to fix or change."

"He can make them pay for what they did," Draco asserted.

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "But I don't think they have much money. They were always complaining about how much I cost to take care of..."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose like he saw his father do when he was talking to someone particularly stupid, like the Minister. "I don't mean pay with money," he bit out.

Harry huffed in annoyance. Why couldn't people just say what they meant? "What else are they going to pay with? They don't have any magic...or fancy things...”

Scowling, Draco answered, "Don't worry about how they are going to pay. Just be glad that, when my Father hears about this, they will."

Looking away, Harry said in a small, placating voice, "If you say so."

"I do."

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

Knocking on the door to the study, Draco waited to enter. "Father, do you have a moment?"

Lucius looked up from the ledger he had spread before him and steepled his fingers on top of it. "Yes, Draco. What is it?"

"I was just upstairs speaking with Harry about his home life." Draco entered slowly, stopping just before his father's desk.

The older blond's eyebrows drew together in a faint frown. "Didn’t you learn your lesson yesterday not to speak about Harry’s family?"

"I didn't bring it up, he did. I simply asked him if tomorrow was his birthday."

Lucius sighed, but waved his son on. "Fine. What did you wish to speak about?"

Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and canted his hips so that he was resting most of his weight on one leg. "Well, Harry told me a number of disturbing things that happened in that house."

"Yes?" Lucius almost dreaded where this conversation was going. He hoped his son wouldn't need to see a mind-healer.

Draco continued, "And I was wondering if you were going to make those Muggles pay for what they did to him, if you haven't already. He said you put his aunt and cousin to sleep. I assumed that meant you killed them and he just didn't know the difference, like with his parents. I couldn’t verify with him without making him cry again."

"Firstly, Draco, don't assume. And secondly, neither his parents nor his other family are deceased. When he says that they are sleeping, he is quite correct. I stunned his aunt and cousin when we were removing him from their house. As for his parents, they are in a magical coma, and have been for the last eleven years."

A look of shock and enlightenment crossed Draco's pale face. "Oh...so that's why he cried when I said they were really dead. He had been told that they were literally sleeping."

Lucius looked alarmed. "Explain."

Draco had the good grace to look a bit sheepish and drop his arms to his sides. "Well, when he said they were in a deep sleep they couldn't wake up from, I was certain that he meant that they were dead, and he was just saying it in a childish way. So I asked him if he meant that they were dead. That's when he started to cry."

"Draco," Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, making Draco squirm uncomfortably, "just because something sounds one way to you, don't assume it is that way. You may privately have your doubts about the validity of someone's statement, but also remember that they could be telling the truth. It will serve you better than always jumping to conclusions, as you are wont to do."

The boy looked down at his shoes and felt quite foolish. "Yes, Father."

"As for the other thing we were speaking of, do not concern yourself with it."

Draco looked up and tilted his head slightly. "Father?"

Lucius held his eye and tried to convey his meaning. "Whatever befalls the Dursleys is none of your concern. If Our Lord asks me to do something about them, then I shall. Otherwise, their demise shall be his to deliver. Do you understand?"

He nodded swiftly. "Of course, Father. I apologize. It wasn't my place."

"Yes. I understand your wish to make sure that Harry sees justice. However, you must always remember your place as well as his. The Dark Lord has taken him under his wing. Meaning he is the Dark Lord's responsibility, not yours."

"Yes, sir."

Lucius turned back to his ledger. "You may go."

Draco bowed to his father and walked away swiftly, much on his mind. It was only as he began ascending the stairs that he realized he hadn't brought up his suspicions about the perversions in the Dursley household. He shrugged. It could wait.
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The Years After