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Forgive Those Who Trespass	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20651 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Thanks again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-One�The
Sixth Pensieve

�� The next
Pensieve sat alone atop the same pillar of rib bone. Again the brilliant white
light spread all around it, and again Harry�s spells revealed no traps or
magical creatures hiding in the corners. He gave the pillar a look of loathing.
Why had the Unspeakables done this?

�� And it didn�t
matter that he knew something of the magical and theoretical reasons they had for
taking Draco�s ribs. He wanted to know what their moral justification was, why in the world they thought they could
get away with something like this and
not be punished somehow.

�� Well, if their own consciences didn�t scar
them, they probably didn�t think anyone else would. Did they expect one of
their captives to be freed and make it this far? Harry smiled grimly, even
as he stooped to look at the base of the pillar and make out the letter there. I, it said this time. Harry was
beginning to have a theory about those letters. I don�t think they did. They seem to have decided that once helpless,
always helpless.

�� He glanced
back proudly at Draco, who had his arms wrapped around himself and was staring
at the pillar with an expression of extreme dislike. And he can chide himself for weakness if he wants to, but he�s stronger
than their hatred and their desire for immortality, to have made it this far.

�� Do you
want to go in with me?� he asked Draco.

�� There was a
shadow in the other man�s eyes, and Harry thought he was longing to hold back,
to just sit against the wall and let Harry tell him what was in the memories
rather than seeing them for himself. But as Harry watched, he straightened his
shoulders and stepped forwards like a soldier.

�� Harry
caught his arm as Draco came level with him. �You don�t have to do this just to
prove something to me,� he said quietly. �So far as I�m concerned, you have
nothing to prove.�

�� Draco gave
him a startled glance, and then his expression melted into a smile so sweet
Harry caught his breath. He traced the line of Harry�s chin for a moment with
his foreshortened fingers, and then shook his head and faced the Pensieve again.

�� You have
to do this for yourself?� Harry asked. He felt less sure about his reading of this
gesture than he was about many others, but he�d risk it.

�� Draco gave
him a full-fledged grin this time,
and Harry smiled back, feeling more confident and happier than he�d ever been
before he entered one of the Pensieves. He embraced Draco firmly, and cast the
Sticking Charm on their feet with a single wave of his wand before they leaned
down together and plunged their heads into the silvery liquid.

*

�� Harry
caught his breath when they landed. They were standing on bright green grass,
beneath a wide, almost brassy sky, with the sun blazing on them so strongly
Harry could convince himself he felt the heat on his skin. His heart leapt up
at once. He hadn�t realized how much he missed the simple comforts of a spring
day until he had them back again.

�� But then he
realized Draco had stiffened next to him, and looked sideways. Draco was
watching with that fixed expression, that almost ceramic expression, which meant he had connected this memory to
fleeting, broken images he�d had before, and didn�t like what the whole resembled.

�� We�re not
really outside, are we?� Harry whispered. He felt compelled to keep his voice
down, though the only sounds were distant, and they�d have to walk towards them
to make them out.

�� Draco gave
his head a tiny twitch, one Harry wouldn�t have seen at all if he wasn�t
looking closely, and strode forwards. Harry scrambled after him, and together
they mounted a tiny hillock. Draco scanned the expanse of green country below
them, whilst Harry tried to convince himself, without success, that this was
all fake. The air even tasted
sweeter.

�� Well, it�s a memory, isn�t it? And it wouldn�t
take much improvement to get sweeter air than you have in the maze.

�� Draco tugged
on his sleeve. Harry followed his pointing finger, and saw a human figure
darting over the grass far below.

�� Following
it came a number of shapes on four legs, and they uttered sounds that made
Harry want to scream, even from this distance. Sounds like the gibbering of a
madhouse, like babies crying in distress, like�

�� He shut off
the comparisons and nodded to Draco, who was watching his past self with that
ceramic expression again. Together, they linked arms and hurried down the hill,
Harry watching out sharply; if Draco fell, the blow to his chest would hurt him
far more than it would hurt Harry.

�� Closer at
hand, they could see the past Draco turning at bay next to a spindly tree,
which had appeared as a shrub from the height of the hill. He seemed to have
been running for a long time; his face was blotched with red, and his hair
clung to his skull. Sweat-dark patches peered from under his ragged shirt, and
he pressed his hand to his side in a way far too familiar to Harry from Auror
training.

�� But what
made Harry want to spit were his missing fingers and ribs. The Unspeakables had
forced him to run like this after they
had already tortured him.

�� Harry
savored the blank, black hatred welling up in him. If he could have reached
Richard right then, he would have forgotten about Expelliarmus and all his guilt over using the Unforgivable Curses.
Richard simply didn�t deserve anything
else.

�� The
creatures chasing Draco crashed to a halt in front of him, and formed a rough
semicircle, panting and staring at him. They were dogs, Harry thought, but only
in the way that dragons were snakes. They seemed to be carved of heavy black
stone, and their legs were hooked to their torsos, and their heads to their
necks, with gleaming mechanical joints. Their eyes flared wide and red, worse
than Voldemort�s eyes. When they moved forwards, their blunt, toeless feet
cracked the ground, and the sounds that emerged from their throats�

�� Well, Harry
found it no surprise when the past Draco clapped his hands over his ears and
screamed, �Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!�

�� If he�s been hearing that sound for
days and hours, it�s a wonder he�s not mad already, Harry thought, and felt
another surge of admiration for Draco. It was wonder enough that he had
survived physically; that he had done it with his mind more or less intact was close
to a miracle. Of course, having some of his worst memories removed and put in
the Pensieves might have helped with that, but Harry was not the less inclined
to marvel.

�� He put an
arm around his Draco. Draco leaned against him, but absently, as if Harry were
a convenient rock. All his attention was, unsurprisingly, fixed on the drama
before him.

�� The nearest
dog edged forwards, parting its jaws to reveal teeth that made Harry ache. They
were jagged, made of silver or steel, but they also gleamed like diamonds, with a disturbing inner fire. If those teeth
met flesh, they would do worse than tear, he was certain.

�� The past
Draco darted abruptly around the tree, like a deer. But the pack didn�t seem to
have been fooled, and the dog with the parted jaws and two others sprang on
him. Harry flinched, bracing instinctively for the crack of bone and the impact
of stone against flesh.

�� It didn�t
happen.

�� Instead, those
glittering teeth locked on Draco�s flesh, and snagged, and then pulled. And Draco�s skin bulged away
from his body, unraveling like rope from a central spool, traveling in ribbons
that tangled with each other as the dogs began to leap, cavorting around one
another and sometimes dropping their own threads so they could take up another.

�� In the
middle of it, Draco fell to his knees, screaming, a low sound like the cry of a
cow being slaughtered, full of dull despair. His skin tore and slid away, and
behind it, slick, shining, naked flesh was left, seamed with veins and
arteries. The dogs wrestled and rolled in the skin, and still it came off.

�� Harry was
watching when they peeled Draco�s face away, and it flew like a kite before it
landed on the ground and the nearest dog picked it up. Then it dangled from the
heavy jaws like a mask, until the dog swallowed.

�� His Draco,
when Harry dared to glance at him, had his arms folded around his chest, but
still shook as though nothing would ever warm him again. His eyes had brewing
storms in them as he stared at his fleshless past self, and then he turned his
back and, without ceremony, threw up.

�� Harry was
beside him in a moment, trying desperately to hold and brace Draco so his
vomiting wouldn�t hurt him, wincing whenever he crushed the empty skin where
the ribs should have been inwards. Draco didn�t fight him off, though, and made
no movement of pain (though that might have been lost in the violent twitches
he gave as he emptied his stomach). Harry decided he could do worse than hang
on, and wait for the moment when Draco would be ready to face the memory again.

�� He wasn�t
sure that moment really arrived. Draco certainly stopped vomiting, and turned
around to observe his past self, though his body still quivered with dry
heaves. Harry kept an anxious eye on him, not at all believing in his recovery,
until Draco hit him with an elbow and frowned at him.

�� Looking at
the horrible scene again, Harry realized the dogs had stopped playing and now
sat patiently in their semicircle, Draco�s skin looped and piled around them
like a ripped tapestry. The skinless Draco still huddled on the grass, motionless
with pain. And walking towards the dogs and Draco was Richard, his wand
swinging casually in his hand.

�� Harry bit
his tongue to control his hatred, reminding himself this was only a memory, only
the past, and he couldn�t affect Richard even if he cast the most violent
spells he knew. He had to bite until he drew blood.

�� Richard
stepped through the dogs, now and then patting a stony head, until he reached
the lumps of skin. He picked one up, let it trail through his fingers, and
sighed. When he glanced at the man he had hunted and had skinned, he wore the
stern expression Harry remembered from McGonagall�s classroom when everyone
(except Hermione) inexplicably failed to get a simple Transfiguration right.

�� Remember,�
Richard whispered, �you are the one who controls this torture, Draco. We must
have your invitation into your soul so that we can take your voice. All you
need to do is give us that invitation. Then we will take it, and you can have
food. You can have rest. You can have escape from this pain.�

�� The huddled
Draco shook like a rabbit, but made no reply. Richard sighed again. �One would think
you voiceless already,� he said. �I don�t want to do this, but you give me no
choice. The spell is most insistent on willing
consent.�

�� He flicked
his wand.

�� New skin
began to grow back across Draco�s shoulders and arms. From the way the past
Draco arched his back and opened his mouth, the process was intensely painful. Sheets
of pale, mucous-like covering slid across him, so thick and slow and viscous
that watching its advance could qualify as torture in itself, Harry thought. He
turned away, sickened, long before it was complete. When he glanced back, Draco
was wholly clad in skin again, and Richard nodded in satisfaction.

�� No,� the
past Draco whispered, but not in a tone that suggested he thought the words would
make any difference. �Please.�

�� Not until
you give us access to your soul,� Richard said. He cast another spell, and chains
appeared on the dogs� necks. Then he sent stinging sparks at the soles of Draco�s
feet until he staggered up and, with a sound like a strangled hare, began to
run again.

�� Richard
waited until he was over the next hillock to release the stone hounds from their
chains. �Hunt�s on, boys,� he said. Again he waited, this time watching the
pack disappear, and then strolled in a leisurely manner after them.

�� The
Pensieve went dark, signaling a transition to the next memory. Draco�s fingers curled
into Harry�s shoulders, digging so hard that Harry bit blood from his tongue
again. But he would not cry out, not now, not when Draco was forced to suffer
in silence. He put his own hand over those clenched fingers, and squeezed.

�� They
returned abruptly to light, this time with the past Draco leaning against a
wall, bound in what seemed to be the strands of a large spider web. Richard
stood in front of him, shaking his head.

�� I told you what�s going to happen, Draco,�
he said. �I don�t know why you�re being so stubborn. Is your voice really such
a sacrifice? You will never speak to anyone but us again, so why you would wish
to keep it��

�� Tell me
again.� The quaver in the past Draco�s voice betrayed false bravado, but that
he could speak those words at all made Harry�s pride and pity surge. He curled
his arms around his Draco, hugging more for his comfort than anything. He
needed to be able to hold someone now,
since he knew he couldn�t change the course of the past.

�� There are sapphire
spider eggs in your flesh now,� Richard said idly, flipping his wand around in
his palm, never taking his gaze from Draco. �We had the female implant them in
you whilst you slept. They�re hatching now�or soon. They�ll begin eating you
from the inside out. Say the word, give us permission to remove your voice, and
I�ll remove them.�

�� I won�t��

�� Draco
abruptly tilted his head back and vibrated a little. Richard arched his
eyebrows and looked faintly pleased. Again he reminded Harry forcibly of
McGonagall, this time when someone other than Hermione managed to get a spell
right.

�� They�re
chewing, I should expect,� he said. �Sapphire spiders are fascinating
creatures, really, given their long life-cycles, the way they transmute insects
into gems, and their sharp mandibles. Very
sharp; they can break open the exoskeletons of insects that no other spider
in the world eats. And they�re intensely magical creatures, too. They draw
every bit of nourishment out of their victims they can, using a sophisticated
variant of death magic that wizards have only managed to duplicate in extremely
advanced necromancy. How does it feel to know that you�re both dying and being
eaten alive by inches?�

�� Harry had
heard that gut wounds were the most painful injuries possible. From the way
Draco was writhing in his bonds, his legs scissoring and jack-knifing against
the web hard enough to tear some threads from their anchors, he could believe
it.

�� Get them out of me!�

�� Now, now,
Draco,� Richard said, his wand still idly flipping. �Those aren�t the right
words. You know what you have to say. Don�t disappoint me. You�re a brilliant
boy. I�m sure you can figure this out.�

�� Draco began
to scream. And Harry, who thought he had grown used to all the various sounds someone
in pain could make, realized that he hadn�t begun
to sample those sounds. This was the voice of someone in disgust as great as
his pain, someone being used as food. This was the scream in the mind of the
mouse pinned down under the cat�s paw, the scream of the hare with the hawk
swooping on it.

�� The scream
of the caterpillar stung and left as food for the wasp�s eggs.

�� The flesh
of Draco�s belly bulged and rippled obscenely. Harry thought he could see the
shadow of a spider�s leg moving under it, and swayed on his feet. His Draco
held him up for a moment, and then they were clinging together, as tightly as
two children afraid of the dark.

�� I suppose,
in a sense, you�re pregnant now,� Richard observed. �Tell me, how does it feel
to be carrying new life? It�s a privilege that so few men ever get to
experience�unless they�re the victims of sapphire spiders, of course.�

�� A bright,
bloody slit tore across the middle of Draco�s belly, and a thrashing blue leg
poked out. Richard stepped up to it, gazed at it deliberately, and then used
his wand to push it back inside.

�� Draco was
crying out mindlessly, words interrupted constantly by new flows of pain. Harry
could see the gleam of what looked like armored backs, sapphire-bright
mandibles, faceted eyes, through the wound.

�� He turned
away, and with the force of his arm around his shoulders, he made his Draco
turn away, too.

�� There was
witnessing the past, so that the other man would not have suffered in vain or
alone, and then there was the point where vision became obscene.

�� The past Draco
screamed then, �You can have�you can enter my soul�just�get them out get them
out GET THEM OUT OF ME NOW! PLEASE!�

�� Ah,�
Richard said. �Most excellent. That wasn�t so hard, was it?� And a series of
small syrupy sounds followed.

�� Harry
shuddered all over, faint and cold and weak as he had been in nightmares where
Voldemort won after all. He did his best to close his ears, to sink into a
trance state where the only things he was conscious of were his Draco�s skin
under his hands, the brush of his hair against Harry�s face, the soft, rushed
sound of his breathing. Nothing else. Nothing else existed outside the two of
them.

�� When the
darkness fell over them and then brightened into firelight again, Harry wondered
whether they should turn around. Would it be worth it? Or would it only be
another image of blood and pain and helplessness to carry away with them,
seared into the backs of their eyes?

�� Then he
reminded himself that this was the memory where Richard took Draco�s voice, and
seeing how it was done might tell them how to get it back�or at least hint at
the mystery of Draco�s voice in the Collecting Room. He animated his feet by
the sheer force of will, and started to turn around again.

�� He paused
when Draco turned with him, though. �No,� he whispered urgently. �You don�t
have to do this. I can observe it alone. Just�keep your face turned away. It�s
better not to know.�

�� Draco gave
him a glance fathoms deep, the look of someone who had walked through hell and
hadn�t come out of it yet. Then he touched Harry�s chest with two fingers and
pointed forwards, touched his own chest, and repeated the motion.

�� The meaning
was clear. If Harry could face this, then he could.

�� Harry
reacted before he knew what he was doing. He took Draco�s head between his
hands and kissed his brow. He wasn�t sure what he meant by the kiss. It seemed
promise and humbling of himself and benediction all at once.

�� Draco�s
gaze grew deeper. And then he looked forwards. Harry�s gaze followed his, as
irresistibly as if they were joined by chains.

�� Richard and
seven other Unspeakables surrounded Draco, who was once again bound to a
stretched frame of wood and metal. They were chanting steadily, and a sapphire-blue
glow surrounded their wands and radiated out to touch Draco�s limbs and chest
and face. Harry felt his stomach attempt to throw itself out his mouth; he didn�t
think he could look on the color of sapphires again without that happening.

�� After the
tortures of the last two memories, the taking of Draco�s voice was almost
ridiculously gentle. All that happened�and it would have been a big deal to Ron
and Hermione, but not to Harry, not anymore�was that the blue glow irradiated
Draco, turning his body transparent, making his bones and organs gleam like
rainbow lights caught in crystal. And then Richard reached into the glowing picture
and extracted one small, darker dot from among the rest. When his hand came
back into view, it held a mote that looked not unlike the ones Harry had
conjured to seek out the Pensieves.

�� Richard
admired the mote, and then placed it just inside his mouth. A moment later,
Draco�s voice emerged. �I reckon that our prisoner could use a bite to eat
after this.�

�� The other
Unspeakables laughed, and the sapphire-blue glow collapsed. Draco, disregarded
in the middle, slowly opened his eyes. And Harry thought he knew why Draco had
fought for so long to retain his voice and keep his soul inviolate from the
Unspeakables, through torments that others would have surrendered to at once.
He was truly helpless now, unable to communicate in any normal way, and all
anyone else had to do was turn their backs to render their ignorance of his
existence complete.

�� Harry understood now, in a way he had not
before, why Draco had been so insistent that Harry look directly at him and
call him the name he preferred over Malfoy. It was Draco�s way of making Harry acknowledge
that he existed, as the Unspeakables had never been forced to do.

�� The scene
faded around them, and they were back in their bodies. Harry lifted his head
slowly and rolled the crick out of his neck before he looked at Draco.

�� You don�t
want those memories back, either,� he said, with no question in his voice.

�� Draco shook
his head. Then he gestured for the communication sphere. Harry released the
Sticking Charm on his feet so he could reach it more easily.

�� You can�t leave me, Draco said, barely
watching the facets at all, staring fixedly at Harry instead. Never leave me.

�� Harry swallowed.
He felt both light-headed and heavy, as if the horror had turned to gas in his
mind and lead in his belly.

He knew what Draco meant. It would
take him years to recover from the memories of the pain he had suffered�if he
ever could�and he would need company and support throughout the healing
process. As the person who had discovered the pain beside him, who had seen the
memories firsthand, Harry was the companion he wanted.

But when Harry thought of all the
people who would be better companions for Draco�Healers, for example�and what
he might have to do to free Draco from the maze, he was not sure he should
agree. This was about what was really best for Draco, not about what Harry wanted or what Draco might think was best.

Draco�s throat constricted. Harry
was sure he was uttering a sob of desperation.

He reached forwards and swept Draco
into his arms, communication sphere and all. Draco dropped the glass at once to
hold him greedily, fingers digging into his robes and skin, clinging to reality.

There was only one answer he could
give right now, because Draco needed it so.

�I promise,� Harry whispered.

And
I hope like hell I can keep that promise.

*

WeasleyWench: Thanks! As for why
Draco is initiating intimacy, he just can�t help himself. He doesn�t want Harry
to leave him, so he�s trying to weave any bond he can.

As for Harry�s attitude about
Draco, he doesn�t really know what to make of it. He doesn�t think suffering should
excuse horrendous crimes, but on the other hand, he can�t deny the fact of
Draco�s suffering.

Kayo: 1) Can�t tell you! 2) The
conversation with Lucius�if it was real�took place when Draco was still in school.
3) Can�t tell you.

Thrnbrooke: Can�t tell you yet!

Hi-chan: Well, in this case, Lucius
was threatening to cast the spell on Draco�s lover, not Draco himself.

QueenBoadicea: Thank you very much!
I�m having a lot of fun with this story, in a really weird way: showing how the
obstacles and memories involved elaborate the characters and make them react.

GreenEyedCat: Well, at heart, Harry
is normal in lots of ways. So he
thinks he could be even more normal if people would just let him be.

Lissagal99: Thanks for reviewing!

rAiNwAtEr: Thanks for reviewing!
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Forgive Those Who Trespass