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The Dust of Water	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20632 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty--Frantic Letters
            Harry smiled when the barn owl winged through his window at the Leaky Cauldron, bearing a letter he could already see had Ron’s big, loopy writing on the outside. He started to hold out his hand as the owl settled on the table next to his bed--
            And suddenly Royal was there, diving down with a clack of his beak that sounded like an explosion as he landed in front of the other owl, his feet ripping a small chunk of wood from the edge of the table. The barn owl cowered. Royal snapped his beak again and stalked up and down in front of it, his tail ruffled out.
            “Yes, you’re huge and the best owl ever,” said Harry, with a little roll of his eyes, as he determinedly reached around Royal to take the letter. “And I won’t ever use any owl for my return post but you. That doesn’t mean you can intercept letters that other people send to me and use them to your own advantage, you know.”
            Royal caught Harry’s wrist in his beak.
            Harry paused and eyed him speculatively. Royal looked back at him with bright eyes. Already, even though he wasn’t pressing down, a little rill of blood ran down the side of Harry’s arm from where his beak rested.
            “You can’t intercept all of them,” Harry explained, in a voice that he thought was weirdly calm. Then again, he also thought he knew exactly how to deal with Royal, as if it was an instinct. “Sometimes they’ll come when you’re asleep, and what are you going to do then? Exhaust yourself flying up and down in front of the inn, or wherever I am, trying to catch the other owls? Eventually that would result in you not being ready when I really need you to carry letters.”
            Royal seemed to consider this. He had the most intelligent look in his eyes that Harry had seen from any owl since Hedwig.
            Not that I remember many owls since Hedwig. Harry swallowed to cut back on his sense of loss, and waited, not moving his hand or his eyes.
            Finally, Royal let go of Harry’s hand. Harry nodded and sighed, and watched as Royal stalked back and forth on the table, his feathers ruffled all over his shoulders and breast. The barn owl stared as if mesmerized, then took flight and landed hastily on the perch in the corner.
            Harry thought about trying to toss an owl treat to the poor thing, but he doubted it would work. Likewise, he didn’t dare do anything other than mutter a minor charm at the blood flowing down his wrist so it would heal. And finally, he got to open his letter.
            Dear Harry,
            I think you made the right decision leaving Malfoy’s place, although now Hermione is muttering about you not having someone to take care of you. But who was really taking care of who at Malfoy’s place? I think he wanted you to heal whatever wounds he had in his soul from Old Harry.
            Harry raised an eyebrow. That was strangely perceptive of Ron. Maybe the time that they’d spent away from each other was helping Ron, too.
            Or maybe he was always this way and I just don’t remember it because it happened in the last ten years.
            Ron’s letter continued, I think you ought to come to our house, but as long as you’re not with Malfoy, it’s all right. And bad luck about Rob, but I think you need to stay away from him, too. In the meantime, could you write something concrete so Hermione will stop proposing to me what we ought to do about you? And write to Ginny. I think she needs to hear from you.
            Harry smiled. It would be pure pleasure to write to Hermione about deciding to study more, since she would probably send him actual books and that way he wouldn’t have to spend time looking up the good ones.
            It would be far from a pleasure to write to Ginny, but Harry thought Ron was right. She did need to read something from him, if only to know that he wouldn’t ever be coming back and she should cut her losses and choose someone else.
            I still wish I could have loved her the way I did--well, the way other people thought Old Harry did.
            But since everyone had been wrong and Harry hadn’t really loved her, it was best to let it go and move on.
            And at least the next people I love can be on my own initiative, Harry thought, as he reached for the parchment and the ink again. Royal hopped up and down slightly, and then turned around and clacked his beak at the other owl, who promptly fled out the window. I can choose who I love instead of being conned into it.
            Royal sidled up to Harry. Harry eyed him cautiously, not wanting the owl to bite him again. The bleeding on his wrist from the first time had barely stopped.
            Royal leaned his head against Harry’s wrist instead and gave a soft crooning hum that seemed to begin in the table underneath him and then go up to the edge of his beak, until it rang gently in Harry’s bones.
            “Well, all right,” Harry told him, and petted his breast feathers. Royal closed his eyes and sat there until Harry began to write the letter for Ginny. Then he turned and flew over to the perch where the other owl had been. He began to sidle slowly back and forth, turning a fastidious foot in place again and again, until he apparently felt that he’d got rid of all traces of the other bird. Then he crouched and regurgitated a pellet.
            “You’re also a rude owl,” Harry told him, as he thought about how he should write the second paragraph. “Hedwig never did that.” For an instant, emotion trembled in his throat, but only one moment, and then he blinked the beginning tears away.
            Royal closed his eyes and sat there, large and impressive. Harry chuckled a little and started writing again.
*
            Dear Ginny,
            Ron suggested I write to you, and the more I think about it, the more I think that’s best.
            I really wish I could have known you for the last ten years as myself. Or that Old Harry had never lied to you and loved you the way you deserve to be loved. From what I could see in the Pensieve memories, he should have been able to trust you with anything, even past love affairs or what he was doing in the Ministry and by blackmailing people. You would never have agreed with him, but you would have seen that he got help.
            I think the main reason he went as far as he did was that he didn’t trust anybody. By the time he started thinking about stopping, he was convinced that everyone would reject him for what he had already done, and he couldn’t face that.
            No one should have to deal with that. But also, no one should have to deal with as many deceptions about it as you did.
            I’m asking you to move on and find someone else to love. That’s a harsh thing to write, and I’m sorry. If you want more apologies from me, please tell me, and I’ll be happy to give them.
            But I don’t think I could ever recover what we had—which wasn’t anything if I think of Old Harry as a different person, and was something mostly deceptive if I think of him as a lost part of myself. You should have had better. I wish I could have known you. I would come back to you and ask you to try again with me if I thought there was anything we could recover.
            I’m sorry, but I think it’s too tainted.
            Please write back to me. If you just want to let me know you received this letter, that’s fine. My owl will stay and wait for a reply. He’s insistent about that.
            I loved you once, Ginny. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you more.
            Harry.
*
            Royal had hardly taken off with that letter when another owl appeared, swooping in through the window and looking around with its wings spread. Harry held back a chuckle to spare the poor thing’s feelings. Apparently owls told each other about bad news like Royal the instant they knew it.
            Harry wondered, as he took the letter, if it would be from Ginny. Maybe Ron had suggested to both of them that they write to each other, and she had simply sent hers first.
            But when Harry saw the writing on the outside of the envelope, he wanted to groan and toss it into the fire. This was yet another message from Rob, and he was going to plead and beg for another chance, Harry was almost sure.
            Even if he had wanted to give Rob another chance, Harry didn’t think it would be wise. They weren’t good for each other. And Rob loved someone who had never existed, either way. Harry wasn’t the fantasy he had built for himself any more than he was Old Harry.
            In the end, Harry chose to read the bloody thing, if only because Rob would probably send another letter if he didn’t, and then another and another and another, until Harry had to pay for all the owls that Royal would probably kill.
*
            Dearest Harry,
            I understand, now, why you cast that spell on me. And from your perspective, which the spell forced me to understand, I know perfectly why you would never want to see me again.
            But—forgive me—having to understand you that way just makes me want you more. You have a maturity that you didn’t have in either of your previous incarnations. You’re a different person. I understand that. But I’m a different person after seeing through your eyes, too.
            Give me one more chance to prove myself. Let’s meet anywhere you choose. I’ll lay anything on the table that you want to know. I’ll tell you more about my affair with Old Harry. (It was just an affair, not a love affair. I see that now). Or if you want to ask me more normal questions instead, that’s fine. It’s up to you.
            Love,
            Rob.
*
            Harry leaned back when he was done, and groaned. Because he had essentially put Rob in the same position that Malfoy was in, and it was all Harry’s own fault.
            Malfoy had learned all about Harry from taking that potion. He probably knew more about Old Harry than Harry himself did. And Rob had learned a lot about him from that spell he’d cast.
            Which meant…
            If I gave Malfoy the chance to get close to me because he supposedly understood me so well, what justification can I come up with for not giving Rob the same chance? I should go and listen to him, the same way I listened to Malfoy. Hell, he’s even being more open and accepting and less obsessive about me than Malfoy is. He told me we could meet wherever I want instead of inviting me to live in his house.
            But Harry had been the one who chose to take Malfoy up on his offer of sanctuary. Malfoy couldn’t have forced Harry to come to the Manor if Harry had decided he would rather stay with Ron and Hermione instead.
            And Harry wanted, more than he had wanted anything except his old memories, not to go anywhere with Rob.
            Royal flew through the window then, with a letter firmly clutched in his beak. Harry grabbed it and tore it open. At this point, he would actually like to read about Ginny blaming him, because it would distract him from his dilemma with Rob and Malfoy.
            The parchment said simply, in Ginny’s handwriting that felt more achingly familiar than it really was, I received your letter.
            And that was that. Harry might get more from her later, he knew, but not right now. He put the parchment aside and tried not to feel numb.
            Ginny was out of his life, as a distraction and someone he could depend on. He had to make the decisions about Rob and Malfoy on his own.
            Harry got up and paced slowly back and forth across the room. Royal stared at him as if to say that he did not approve of this behavior, and then tucked his beak into his feathers.
On the one hand, the choice should be simple. Rob hadn’t committed any crimes that Harry knew of. Malfoy had, and had willingly helped Harry hide and commit others. Rob didn’t reek of Dark magic. He had loved—well, he’d once said that he had loved Old Harry. Maybe even a version of Old Harry that hadn’t been as bad as he got later.
And if Rob was like Malfoy in some ways, he was even more like Ginny. They had both been innocent people who had loved a man who was horrible under the surface. Why punish Rob for that by ignoring him, any more than Harry had wanted to punish Ginny? He could feel sorry for her. Why not Rob?
Then Harry paused and blinked at Royal. Royal popped his head up again, but kept his beak resting on his feathers, as if to say that he was only giving Harry a few seconds to be interesting before he tucked it away.
“Who’s going to know if I’m not fair to everyone?” Harry whispered. “Only me. And you,” he added, as Royal turned his head a little to the side. “But not Rob. Not Ginny. Not Ron and Hermione. Not even Malfoy. It’s up to me to be as fair as I want.”
            He completed another turn around the room, and continued speaking aloud. He had enough spells on the room that he thought it unlikely someone could eavesdrop. And it comforted him to say this aloud. It made the words feel more genuine.
            “I’m not even being fair to the people Old Harry hurt, if you want to put it that way. I decided deliberately not to. Why am I having such problems with Rob?”
            Royal fluffed his feathers out as far as they would go, which Harry thought was his way of saying, “I have no idea.”
            “Exactly.” Harry nodded to him and paced a little faster. His head whirred like the inside of a typhoon. “I don’t have to be sympathetic to him or date him just because he wants to. Or because he’s a little like Ginny and Malfoy. I want to give Malfoy another chance because I want to. I want to apologize to Ginny because I want to. I want to avoid Rob because—”
            Royal clacked his beak gently, as if to say that he didn’t want to listen to that word anymore. Harry chuckled and nodded.
            But he stood there and felt the revelation spread around him as if it was a dazzling light. Except this light illuminated many parts of the universe.
            He didn’t owe anyone his life, or his innocence, or the chance to date him. If Malfoy got too insistent, then Harry would walk away from him. If he was giving Malfoy an unfair chance because he remembered him from Hogwarts while Rob was a complete stranger, that was his choice.
            He would write back to Rob. But it would be a letter of refusal. And then he would write to Ron and Hermione, and even Malfoy, if he wanted to.
            Harry glanced at the books that stood piled on one corner of the table, and smiled, a smile that seemed to illuminate as much, in its own way.
            Then he would get on with his real life.

*
SP777: I don’t think it’s taboo, just not necessarily something Harry needs with school owls and apparently others available.
Severus1snape: Thank you!
moodysavage: And getting fiercer!
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The Dust of Water