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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.

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Part 13 – Chapter 11 - August 1, 1992

Harry padded down to breakfast the next morning still mulling over what Draco had told him the night before. Apparently, he was famous, but Draco was afraid to tell him what for. Harry wondered if he'd done something bad. He couldn't remember anything really bad he'd done, but he didn't remember doing anything really good either...so that really didn't help him. As he entered the room, he noticed that the adults were already seated at the breakfast table, though Draco was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Draco?" Harry asked, slightly worried about the blond.

Narcissa smiled as she responded, "Oh, he said he's not feeling very well this morning."

Harry frowned as he took a seat. "Hm...he said he'd teach me how to fly before his lessons this afternoon..."

The blonde matriarch's smile grew a little wider with pride. "Did he? Well, our Draco is an accomplished flier, though I still don't know if he's the best one to teach you."

Biting his bottom lip, Harry asked, "Did he say why he's feeling sick? He seemed to be fine when he came to talk to me last night..."

Several pairs of eyebrows rose at this statement. So Draco was fine before he went to bed, but suddenly ill this morning. Sounded suspicious. Lucius responded this time, "Did he? I'm sure it's nothing serious, then. Probably ate too much cake yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, that's probably it. He did have a rather large piece didn't he? And he left in such a hurry last night." Harry knew that Draco probably wasn't sick off the cake, or sick at all, for that matter, but he didn't want to let anyone know that he knew something fishy was going on. Always better to act clueless.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Harry?" Voldemort asked his young charge who had taken the chair to his left.

"Oh, I hadn't thought about it. I suppose whatever is fine." Voldemort frowned but didn't make a big deal out of the child's indecision. He had to remind himself that it was understandable, in light of the fact that Harry hadn't had many choices in his life. When presented with so many, it was easier to allow someone else to make the decision.

Breakfast passed fairly quietly after that, with only a few questions being tossed around in between bites: "What do you have planned for today, Dear?" (That was Lucius); "Oh, just another luncheon with some of the ladies. You?" (Narcissa was ever so graceful as she replied); "The Winzengamot is trying to pass some legislature granting giants more rights. Need to quash that before they start getting ideas. Severus?"; "Well, I was supposed to teach your son after lunch, but it looks like we may be canceling." (Severus didn't seem to appreciate being included); "Why don't you teach Harry? I'm sure he'd love to learn how to brew potions, wouldn't you Harry?" (There was Voldemort, adding in his two knuts); "Oh, yes, please." (Harry replied happily, glad to be included.)

It went on like that for about an hour before Harry got up the nerve to ask what had been bothering him all night. "Uncle 'Volo...?"

"Yes, Harry?" Voldemort paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He waited for the question to be asked before deciding whether to take the bite or place it back on his plate.

"Um...last night...Draco said something that had me wondering."

Everyone's interest was piqued. They ignored their food for a moment and turned their gazes to Harry. Voldemort lowered his fork back onto his plate and gave Harry his full attention. He might have to do damage control, knowing Draco. "And what did he say?"

"Well, he was talking about his friends at Hogwarts and they all had such cool names and I said that 'Harry' was such a boring name and then I said my full name—I don't really like my name, you see—and he...he was shocked. Really, he sort of freaked out, squealing like a girl who just received something pink. Anyways, he said...he said that I was famous but then he wouldn't tell me why. He just ran out of the room without saying anything. So, I was wondering, what am I famous for?"

Several mouths pursed in a faint grimace. They were too irritated with the blond preteen to be amused at Harry's simile. Damn Draco and his big mouth. Voldemort almost looked ill, and he would have completely looked it if he would allow his face to do something so uncouth. "Well, Harry...it's a bit...complicated."

"But why? Either I did something good or I did something bad, right?"

"Well, yes, I suppose you could look at it that way." Voldemort was trying to be as honest as possible without giving away too much of the truth.

"Well, which was it?" Harry asked impatiently. He could tell that his guardian was trying to keep things from him and he wanted no part of it.

"Harry, it's not really anything you did, per se." It was getting harder to dance around the truth.

Harry frowned quizzically. "I don't understand. So, I didn't do anything? So then why am I famous?"

Narcissa was the one who saved them all from a very awkward conversation. "Well, Harry, it's not really you that's famous. It's your parents. Everyone knows what happened to them, that they're asleep and can't be woken up."

Harry's face fell and he looked down at the table. He didn't really feel like this was the whole truth, but it was easier to accept than that everyone was hiding something huge and terrible from him. "Oh...I guess...I guess I understand. So...Harry isn't famous...Potter is, then?"

Narcissa had an uncomfortable smile on her face. She realized that there was not good way to answer. If she said that it was Harry who was famous, he'd want to know why. And if she said that it was Potter who was famous, then he'd feel like he didn't mean anything. She had a split second to decide. It was better for him to feel a little down now than to have him hate them all later. Her decision was made. "Yes, that's right."

"Oh." He said again. His heart felt heavy, like it was filled with stone. He knew he wasn't anything special, no matter what Draco said. "Excuse me."

He left the table and went upstairs to his room. Since he couldn't climb up into his bed on his own, he pulled off the squashy comforter and slid under the bed instead. He felt terrible. He'd spent all night thinking that he was somebody. That he was famous and everyone knew who he was. And now, in the span of only a few minutes, he was back to being nobody. His mind whirled with all the conversations he'd had since he was taken from his cupboard, all the things people had told him and tried to make him believe. Lies, all of them. He couldn't trust anything anyone said. They didn't want him to know the truth. They wanted to keep him in the dark, keep him small and stupid. He thought they cared about him... So much for his birthday wish.

He didn't know how long he spent under his bed alone, crying to himself. All he knew was that he'd rather be back in his cupboard than here right now. At least when he was in the cupboard, he knew his place. He knew that Petunia and Vernon and Dudley weren't related to him. He knew that he was just 'Boy'. Nothing mattered beyond that. Here, he didn't know what his place was. He wasn't related to anyone here either, but they acted like he was, like they cared. But that's all it was, an act. He didn't matter to anyone. He was 'Harry' here, but what did that even mean?

There was a soft knock on the door. Harry buried his head under the comforter and pretended like he didn't hear anything. He didn't care if someone got mad because he did that. He didn't care if the hit him really hard to make him sorry. At least then things would make sense again.

"Harry?" It was Draco. He didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not Draco who had started this mess. He wished he wasn't there anymore. "Harry? Can I come in, please?"

Harry refused to answer. He screwed his eyes shut as tightly as they'd go and wished he was back in his cupboard where the world made sense. He could hear the door open quietly and someone come into the room. 'Not someone, Draco.'

He wished harder.

The footsteps drew closer. "Harry, look...I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm the reason you're upset right now. So, I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Harry shook his head and tried to envision the inside of his dark cupboard. It was stuffy and cramped and dirty, but it was his. His little mattress was smelly and hard, but it was his. He ran this mantra through his head several times until it drowned out the noise of Draco's footsteps and his questions.

When he shifted to get more comfortable on the floor under the bed, he let out a little squeak of surprise. He wasn't under his large bed in the Manor anymore. He felt something hard and lumpy beneath him, and the air felt different. For a moment he was sure he was back in his cupboard. He closed his eyes again for a moment and breathed in the strange air. Maybe it was all a dream? But no, there was the comforter still wrapped around his shoulders. He pried his eyes back open and tried to look around.

If he were back in his cupboard, there would be a dim shaft of light spearing through the darkness from the vent in the door. But he couldn't see any light coming through the vent, couldn't feel any air currents from the door at all. It was darker than he remembered, more sinister. The air was stuffier than before, too. He felt around for the door so that he could let some light in, some clean air, but couldn't find it. It wasn't where it last was, and he worried that he hadn't made it back to his cupboard after all.

He pounded on the wall where he was sure a door had been, but it didn't budge. He tried to hit it harder, just in case it was stuck. Nothing. But he did hear something, though. Petunia's high-pitched voice cried, "Vernon! Vernon! I swear I heard something banging on the wall under the stairs!"

"Oh, nonsense, Petunia. There's nothing under there anymore, not since that freak left." Came Vernon's much lower register.

"Vernon, I swear, I heard something," Petunia cried again, her voice coming a bit closer.

Vernon growled out his reply, angry at Petunia's insistence. "Petunia, I told you, that's nonsense."

Harry could hear footsteps coming closer. They weren't booming, so it must not be Uncle Vernon coming to check. His heart fluttered in his chest and he listened. For a moment, there wasn't any sound at all. He held his breath and waited, wondering what Aunt Petunia would do.

Nothing, as it turns out.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered as she walked away.

Now that the close call had ended, Harry had time to process the facts, and he was truly scared. He had made it back to his cupboard, but it wasn't his anymore. They'd done something to it, something so that he couldn't get out. The air seemed a bit stuffier since he first got there and it made his panic increase. If there wasn't a door anymore, how was he going to get out? How was he going to get air or food? He was going to die and no one would ever know what happened to him! They wouldn't find his body for months until it started smelling up the house and they opened up the wall to find out what it was.

Panicking severely now, Harry tried to reverse the process he was certain caused him to get stuck in the wall. He wished as hard as he could that he was back in the Manor, back in the arms of his Uncle 'Volo. Tears were streaming down his face as he whispered to himself. "Please, take me back to the Manor. Please, I want to see Uncle 'Volo again. Don't leave me here to die. Please! Please! I wanna go back. I don't want to be here anymore! Please!" As he sat there whispering to himself for long moments, nothing happened.
O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

"Harry?" Draco said a bit louder as he walked closer to the bed. Harry hadn't responded at all when he first called out to him, but Draco had heard him breathing. But now, he heard nothing. He was close enough to the four-poster now to tell there wasn't anyone in the bed. Panic rising, Draco called louder, "Harry, where are you?" Still, no answer.

The door opened wider behind Draco and a tall figure entered. "Harry?" That voice belonged to the Dark Lord. He'd come to talk to Harry too, it seemed.

"He didn't answer when I knocked, but I knew he was in here because I heard him breathing. I don't hear it anymore, though," Draco supplied helpfully.

"No, I don't suppose you would. I felt a strong surge of magic just a moment ago. Perhaps Harry made himself silent so you couldn't find him."

"What's going on?" That was Lucius. He sounded concerned. "I felt something pass the wards from in here..."

"Truly? We're looking for Harry. He's not making any noise, and hasn't answered Draco at all."

"Dobby!" The elf popped into the room instantaneously.

"Yes, Master Lucius, sir?" He asked with a deep bow.

"Where is Harry?" Lucius asked authoritatively.

"Dobby is not knowing, sir. He was under his bed, but he is not being there now."

Lucius didn't like that answer. Worry filled him with an uncomfortable sensation. "Find him!" He barked.

"Yes, Master Lucius, sir," Dobby replied as he bowed before disappearing.

Lucius took a moment to calm himself before he addressed the other occupants of the room. "He'll find him, you can be certain of that. But, how in the devil did he leave the Manor?"

"Hmmm," Voldemort hummed speculatively.

"You don't suppose it was...He can't have known!" Lucius cried, ignoring how unsophisticated it made him look. Harry's well-being meant more to him than his image, at least at the moment.

Voldemort didn't look nearly as worried as Lucius felt, but the blond man was sure that wasn't because he didn't feel the emotion. Some people were just better at keeping on their masks than others. The Dark Lord straightened his back a little more and stared at his follower. "We shall find out soon enough."

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

"Please, let me go home! I want to go home!"

"Little Master Harry Potter, sir?"

"Dobby? Dobby, is that really you?!" Harry cried in relief.

"It is being me, sir. Master Lucius Malfoy is being sending me to find you, sir. Master Dark Lord is being very anxious to have you home, sir. And Little Master Draco is being sad that you is not being talking to him," Dobby explained.

Tears were rolling down Harry's face and a few strands of hair were plastered in their tracks. "Take me home, Dobby. I want to go home now."

"Yes, Little Master Harry Potter, sir." Dobby took hold of one of Harry's hands and apparated him back to the Manor.

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O

As soon as Harry reappeared in his room in the Manor, he was assaulted with cries.

"Harry!" Draco called out, surprised to see him back so soon.

"Oh, Harry!" Narcissa cried, having just been informed of the situation and worried about the young man.

"Where. Have. You. Been?!" Voldemort bit out, so worried that it came out as anger instead of concern. Harry felt himself being engulfed in strong, warm arms. They held him securely to an equally strong chest. He was home, and he was happy to be so.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I mean...I did...but I didn't know...I'm sorry."

Voldemort closed his eyes and listened to Harry's voice, holding him tighter, so afraid of what might have happened to his young charge. "I was so afraid" he whispered, for Harry's ears only.

"I'm sorry. I was confused and scared and I just wanted to be back in my cupboard where everything made sense but it's not my cupboard anymore. They did something to the door. It was gone and I couldn't get out and I was going to die and no one was going to find me until I started to smeeellll!" Harry cried, still so afraid of dying behind a wall in the Dursleys' house.

Voldemort pet Harry's hair and snuggled him even closer. "Oh, Harry...we would have found you before you died, and surely before you began to rot."

Harry had his eyes screwed shut and was in abject denial. "No, no one was going to find me. No one cared about me enough to look. I'm just Harry. I'm not important and no one was going to find me and I was going to dieeee!"

"Harry, hush now. You're safe. You aren't going to die for a long, long time. You'll live until you're terribly old and have gotten married and had a dozen children."

Tears squeezed past Harry's tightly closed lids as he cried into Voldemort's shoulder. "Uncle 'Voloooooo!"

"Harry..."

Lucius looked at his son and gestured that they should leave them alone for a while. Draco didn't know how to feel seeing the most feared Dark wizard of all time holding onto a sobbing child and smoothing down his hair, his own eyes suspiciously wet. He left the room with only a quick look back.

"Why did you leave me, Harry?" Voldemort whispered.

"I'm not special. I'm just Harry and no one loves me. I don't understand why people pretend to care about me when there's no reason to. I understood my life when I was in the cupboard. I was nobody. I didn't have a name or a family or a birthday. I only got to eat if I was really good. I didn't talk. I didn't move. It wasn't fun, but I understood. I just wanted to go back to a place where I understood," Harry babbled.

"Harry, we do love you. All of us, even Draco. You might not be my child, but you're as good as. Severus and Lucius feel the same way. But, we're Slytherins to the core, Harry. We don't tend to show emotion well. I'm sorry we ever made you feel like you weren't loved and wanted."

"Even if I'm not famous and special?" The boy asked in a small voice.

"Harry, we are all famous enough to last a lifetime; we don't need you to be as well. And you are special, Harry. You are alive when everyone thinks you're dead. Even with everything you've been through, you can still love and trust. You're smart, and catch on quickly when you want to. And you're powerful, Harry. Do you think all little boys could apparate through incredibly strong wards and reappear hundreds of miles away? No, it's just you."

Harry hated to hope, but he couldn't stop himself. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes, Harry. You mean the world to us, and we don't want anything to happen to you. The next time you're afraid or feel confused, talk to someone. Draco might not always say the right thing, but he's your age, so he'll probably understand. If you don't want to talk to him, Severus, Lucius, Narcissa and I will always make time to talk with you. We love you." Harry didn't fully believe him, but he tried.

"I've never been loved before."

"Your parents loved you very much. Tell you what. Why don't you lay in here for a little while? I'll have Draco come back in and sit with you, okay? So you aren't alone. And then I'll speak to Severus about getting you to see your parents. I meant to do this sooner, but things have come up."

Harry gave his guardian a faint smile. "I'd like that."

"Good. I'll be back as soon as we figure something out, okay?"

"Okay."

Draco entered the room a moment after Uncle Marvolo left. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah...just scared, that's all."

"Still scared?" Draco tried to clarify.

"No, just was earlier."

"Oh, well it's good that you aren't anymore. Really, there isn't anything to fear here in the Manor. No one can get in if we don't want them to. And no one can hurt you without going through us first."

"Why are you being so nice?" It was as though Harry had forgotten their entire previous conversation.

"Didn't I tell you last night? You're practically family."

"And you take care of family, I remember." So, apparently he hadn't forgotten everything, just the important part.

"Exactly, so no more stupid questions, okay?" Draco had a sly smirk on his face. It was clear that he was joking.

"Sure, I'll try," Harry replied with a shy smile, not used to the teasing banter.

"You'd better."

"So, what did you come to talk to me about earlier?"

Draco's eyed widened for a moment before settling back into his normal expression. "Oh, I just wanted to apologize for making you feel bad. I didn't realize you felt so bad you wanted to leave us."

"I was just really confused. I've always been a nobody, and then when I was here, I felt like somebody, and then, when your mom told me that I wasn't really famous and it was my parents who were...I felt like a nobody again. I didn't understand why anybody would be so kind to a nobody like me. I wanted to go back to a place where I was treated like I felt, some place that made sense," Harry explained.

"Stupid, you should have said. I'd have set you straight."

"I know, Uncle 'Volo already said that I should have talked to someone when I was feeling bad. But, you have to understand...I wasn't allowed to talk growing up. I didn't know...I mean...maybe I did...but I didn't believe it."

"I get it. You were so upset that all you could really remember is what they had told you. To shut up and be invisible," Draco elaborated.

"Yeah." That was exactly it. He was glad that Draco knew him so well.

"Well, listen to me now. Don't shut up unless Father, Mother, Uncle Severus or the Dark Lord tell you to. Don't ever be invisible. If we can't find you, we'll get worried. And you don't want to make us worry, do you?"

Harry really didn't. "No. Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you love me?" Harry asked a question that had been simmering in the back of his mind for a little while.

Draco looked taken aback. Love? He loved his parents, sure. But did he love Harry? He didn't even know if he loved his Uncle Severus...and he'd been around since he was a baby. "Um...I don't know."

Harry's face fell a little bit. Maybe Uncle 'Volo lied to him, then. "Oh..."

"Why?" Draco asked with a puzzled expression shifting his features.

"Well, Uncle 'Volo said you did, but I wanted to know if it was true." 'Because it would be really nice if it was,' Harry finished in his head.

"Oh, well, I suppose I could. It's entirely possible that I might. But I don't even know if I love Uncle Severus, and he's my godfather and has been around since I was a baby. I know I love my parents, because, well, they are my parents."

"I see..." Harry said softly. He didn't, really, because he hadn't had enough experience to know what Draco was talking about. He knew that when you loved someone, you liked them a lot and wanted to be around them, you gave them hugs and kisses and were nice to them. And Uncle Severus, Uncle 'Volo, Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa had tried to be and do all that for him. Draco said he liked Harry, and he acted like he wanted to be around him, and he was nice. Did that mean he loved Harry?

"No you don't," Draco said frankly, calling him on his lie.

"Okay, so I don't. But I'm trying to."

Draco suddenly turned the tides. "Do you love me?"

"Um..." Harry blushed. "Yes?" He didn't really know if he did or not. He liked Draco a lot, and he wanted to be around him and tried to be nice. He even wanted to give him hugs and kisses. But, did that mean he loved him?

"Is that a question or a statement, Harry?"

"A statement?" Harry really didn't know how to answer. He didn't want to lie about something like this.

Draco shook his head with a sigh. "You don't have to, you know. It's okay if you don't, as long as you like me."

"Oh, I do. I really, really do. Like you, I mean."

"Well, good. I like you, too."

Harry smiled. It might not be love, for either of them, but it was a start.
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The Years After