The Echoes Of Yesterday
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
44
Views:
17,968
Reviews:
133
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
44
Views:
17,968
Reviews:
133
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Silence And Peace
The Echoes Of Yesterday…by Samayel
Chapter 32: Silence And Peace
A hallway in Grimmauld place. Two decades blurring backwards to a time and a place that had to be reconciled as history. Another lifetime, almost another Harry.
“What the hell do you mean!? I…I can’t fucking believe what you’re saying! Explain this shit to me…this fucking minute!”
“Harry…I have to keep the Malfoy line alive. There’s no one left but me. I need to marry to have a legitimate heir. It doesn’t mean I can’t be with you…it just means that we can’t…we can’t live like this…together. I hoped you’d understand…and it isn’t that I don’t want to be with you…it’s-”
“It’s that you could kiss someone else…fuck them…marry them…but not me!! What the fuck kind of warped place do you come from…that you think I’d accept that!? You think I could do that? Is that all this is to you!? You right, fucking cunt! I’m not doing this because it’s fucking convenient! I love you, even if you hate hearing it, you prick fuck!”
“Harry…please. This is what I want to do. I want a son. We’re talking about a history that dates back to the time of Merlin, and it means something. I hoped you’d understand, but I have to do this. It isn’t about what I like, or anything else. It’s a duty…like fighting Voldemort because you were destined to do it. This is what I’m for.”
“DON’T! Don’t you dare compare the two! I only wanted a normal life, never any of this. The world isn’t hanging on you, and no one’s going to die if you marry some bint you’ve never even met! How could you…say these things…like they’re sane?! I’m not going to be some dirty secret that you slip off to meet now and again! I didn’t…I didn’t do all of this…for that! FUCK YOU! Go find someone who’ll marry you for the fucking money and spit out brats on command! Fuck off back to your manor and your fucking elves! I hope you fucking die!”
“Harry…I…”
“I SAID I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE! GET OUT! Get out of my fucking house! I can’t believe I let even let this happen! I can’t believe I even touched someone who’d…who’d do this! GET OUT!”
“Harry…”
Fist connected with aristocratic nose faster than Draco expected, and he slid down the flagstones of the hall, eyes tearing sharply while the broken nose began to bleed sluggishly.
“Fine. As you wish. Goodbye.”
Harry stood in the hall trembling with rage, eyes bulging and mouth twisted in a sneer of rage, barely holding back the urge to fling curses instead of insults. Draco slumped down the hallway and stairs, and the door to the street opened and closed a moment later, and then Harry was alone.
He’d held back the one thing…too private to even admit to someone who had abandoned him this way. Anyone who would have asked for such a thing didn’t deserve to know what that last moment with Voldemort had been like. That Harry had clung to life and deflected that final curse only because of love. A love that had been built on a lie, and had been revealed as nothing more than Harry believing in someone who had never really intended to stay. His cheeks burned with humiliation while his breath heaved in the silence of Grimmauld Place.
------------------------------------------------------------
“I…I can’t…be that…for you. Please…understand…” Harry choked out words that he could cling to in the face of desperation. Draco was fool’s gold, like his father, a glittering prize that would disappear. A moment’s fancy that he had no right to, and wouldn’t take even if he could. He’d always known what right and wrong were, even if he’d sometimes failed to listen to the conscience that guided him. In this, this time, he did not fail.
Draco’s grip slackened, and the head that had been upright and boring its eyes into Harry’s soul just slumped forward, tired and listless against Harry’s chest. The voice was a muffled whisper against his robes.
“I know…I knew. I’m not really a student. I’m old enough. I like you. You’re good…and brilliant…and kind. Why wouldn’t I…want you? But you’re his…and I’m…I’m just me. I just thought…once…wouldn’t hurt. I want to remember something I wanted…and wouldn’t be sorry for…later. Please…just…something. No one would…”
“No.” The word was half strangled by the emotions that were struggling inside of him at the moment, trying to claw their way to the surface, but it was surprisingly easy to hold fast and repeat himself.
“You said it yourself. You know I couldn’t do that. It isn’t about what anyone else would know. It’s about what I know. I can’t be that for you. I’ll help you…I’ll be your advocate…or even your friend…but I can’t be that. It isn’t just because you’re a student of sorts, or not worthy of it…or any of that. Don’t think that. You know exactly why I can’t…wouldn’t.”
Draco remained quiet, comfortable against the warmth of Harry’s chest, refusing to budge for a long minute. With a sigh, he stiffened and backed away, and Harry let his arms fall to his sides with a matching sigh of relief. Draco couldn’t quite manage to look up, his face discolored by high emotions, and his eyes flicked upwards while he tried to look away.
“I…don’t want them to see me…like this. Could I go? Just for now? I know you need to tell them what happened. I don’t want to…I don’t even want to hear it again. I’m…I’ll be alright.”
Harry nodded while he composed himself. He’d have to speak to Minerva and John shortly, and in all honesty the morning had already left him feeling drained and ready to crawl to his suite for a long rest. Still…Draco looked desperate to leave, and Harry understood why. Swallowing so much pride…to say those things. It couldn’t have been easy, and frankly it would be hard to remain composed or detached while they were in the room together.
“Go ahead. I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out. It’ll be alright for now, and if there are any further questions, I’ll relay them to you myself. Acceptable?”
“Aye. Thank you.” Draco paused by the door, his hand clenched on the knob, eyes fixed on the grain of the wood while he spoke. “I’m not him. Not in any way that really counts…and I don’t want to be…but I’m not sorry that I asked…what I did.”
Before Harry could let those words soak in, the door was opened and shut and Draco was gone. Harry slumped back against the wall, letting his breath out slowly, rubbing his temples to let some of the tension slide away.
’John had it right along. This isn’t good. I hope I let the kid down easy enough. Hell, I hope he understands that it’s completely out of the question! I can handle…more…now…or I think I can, but Merlin! There are limits!’
------------------------------------------------------------
Draco hurried down the hall, still faintly dizzy from what he’d done. ’Merlin’s Name! What was I thinking? Master Prewett was right…I’m no good at this…kind of thing. I can’t believe I…I said…or did any of that!’
He paused and flopped back against a wall, catching his breath while his thoughts raced. Harry had been…incredibly decent. Speaking openly of Durmstrang, and of the event that had set him apart from the rest of the students…it had been intoxicating. Cathartic. Sweeter than any wine or candy by a thousand fold! No one had so consistently proven that they cared enough to even listen to him, not for eighteen years, and now Prewett and Harry both allowed an openness he’d never imagined. To say things like those, and to go without being judged in haste. It had made him reckless.
He’d almost spoken of the book. He’d wanted to…for the first time. The book he’d found in that attic trunk…possessions left from the night his parents had died. His only solace during the summer he’d returned home after second year. It had been an enigma first, locked and sealed, taunting him with possibilities of what might lie within. For a boy who’d hated himself so very much at that time, it had afforded a perfect and desperately needed distraction.
And then he’d opened it, and a comfort was his that he’d never known. It was cruel in a way, because it wasn’t more than a feeling, and ultimately only teased him with the suggestion that that feeling was possible, but he HAD felt loved, even if only while poring over a single, dusty volume in his room alone.
The forbidden-ness of it! To look through a window into the past, to know with clarity the exact words and thoughts of a parent he’d never known. And then there were the memories. The reminiscences of a time and a place. The regrets, the wishes and dreams, the hidden words that could never have been spoken. He’d read them all a hundred hundred times.
It had seemed simple enough…coming here…to meet Harry…to go unnoticed while he unearthed tidbits about his father’s past. It hadn’t worked out that way at all. It was all so terribly complicated now! Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to be some exhausted and careworn soul, still nursing a wound that had been done to him before Draco had even been born! He was supposed to be vital, swift, sure and powerful! He was supposed to be like the man he’d seen in the duel, at peace and untouchable in his Art and Craft. He was wise and good and kind beyond all reason…
And when he’d offered to hold someone who hurt, Draco had snatched at it madly, asking for more than he’d meant to, and more than he’d dared to even idly imagine. There were thoughts…the kind that came to a person when they closed their eyes and let their mind drift free…and those thoughts had sometimes brushed against the idea. The boy who’d come to Hogwarts had hated introspection, and still did, but had learned a little along the way. Draco knew himself just well enough to know the thought had been there. A guilty little secret that been pushed aside more than once.
He’d done it...unconsciously perhaps…but he’d done it just the same as then. Preening…showing off his intellect…striving to attract the attention of someone he’d read so much of and could only dream of in years past. His father’s diary had described a paragon…a man who stood above the world of the small and the petty…and who had been wronged. Was it so wrong to have wanted to know someone like that? To have something to believe in again? He hadn’t expected to find a shy, reclusive and ultimately flawed man, broken by the very circumstances that had made it possible for Draco to meet him! It had been…hurtful…when Harry had kept him at arms length, deliberately distant for reasons that were perfectly understandable now. It had stung to be pushed away by someone he…
Someone he wanted. It stung now too. Not enough to make him angry, but enough to make Draco sick to his stomach with the realization of what he’d wanted. These thoughts were too much. More than he wanted to be burdened with. He wanted his book…and quiet. He wanted to lose himself in dreams of another time, and the tantalizing hint of proof that a person could feel those things for another. He wanted to forget, and forget he would, at least for awhile.
Draco pulled away from the wall and walked purposefully on. He might miss a class, but at least he’d have some peace or a chance to regain his composure. It had been a terrible mistake…to let those feelings out. It would have to be undone…some amends made…but it wouldn’t happen again. He couldn’t speak of the book, or it might be taken from him, and that would be a loss he couldn’t bear, a final insult added to the injury that had been his life. To be teased with hope and then have it plucked away. He could never tell how he knew the things he knew…not and be sure that he’d still have one solace when he ached and hungered for a feeling he’d never known from another person. It was too much to risk.
Perhaps…if it could be shared…just for a short time. Or better…if something real took its place, but that hadn’t happened yet, and didn’t show any signs of manifesting anytime soon. No…it was too much to risk. It was his by right, and only he could have opened it. Didn’t that mean that fate had intended it for him? There was no closeness for him here…just like everywhere else. He would keep his one comfort to himself. He knew for a fact that it was better than nothing.
They’d call for him via magic if he was needed, and what he wanted most was peace and silence. Facing rooms full of others with these chaotic feelings running loose…wouldn’t do. Warded in his room, his trunk was spelled safe and opened, and the book received his blood and name…his birthright. The tiny lock clicked open and the world of the now was dead to him…while the all encompassing feeling of being loved, utterly and without condition, washed over his senses like a cool breeze in a stifling room.
TBC!!!
Chapter 32: Silence And Peace
A hallway in Grimmauld place. Two decades blurring backwards to a time and a place that had to be reconciled as history. Another lifetime, almost another Harry.
“What the hell do you mean!? I…I can’t fucking believe what you’re saying! Explain this shit to me…this fucking minute!”
“Harry…I have to keep the Malfoy line alive. There’s no one left but me. I need to marry to have a legitimate heir. It doesn’t mean I can’t be with you…it just means that we can’t…we can’t live like this…together. I hoped you’d understand…and it isn’t that I don’t want to be with you…it’s-”
“It’s that you could kiss someone else…fuck them…marry them…but not me!! What the fuck kind of warped place do you come from…that you think I’d accept that!? You think I could do that? Is that all this is to you!? You right, fucking cunt! I’m not doing this because it’s fucking convenient! I love you, even if you hate hearing it, you prick fuck!”
“Harry…please. This is what I want to do. I want a son. We’re talking about a history that dates back to the time of Merlin, and it means something. I hoped you’d understand, but I have to do this. It isn’t about what I like, or anything else. It’s a duty…like fighting Voldemort because you were destined to do it. This is what I’m for.”
“DON’T! Don’t you dare compare the two! I only wanted a normal life, never any of this. The world isn’t hanging on you, and no one’s going to die if you marry some bint you’ve never even met! How could you…say these things…like they’re sane?! I’m not going to be some dirty secret that you slip off to meet now and again! I didn’t…I didn’t do all of this…for that! FUCK YOU! Go find someone who’ll marry you for the fucking money and spit out brats on command! Fuck off back to your manor and your fucking elves! I hope you fucking die!”
“Harry…I…”
“I SAID I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE! GET OUT! Get out of my fucking house! I can’t believe I let even let this happen! I can’t believe I even touched someone who’d…who’d do this! GET OUT!”
“Harry…”
Fist connected with aristocratic nose faster than Draco expected, and he slid down the flagstones of the hall, eyes tearing sharply while the broken nose began to bleed sluggishly.
“Fine. As you wish. Goodbye.”
Harry stood in the hall trembling with rage, eyes bulging and mouth twisted in a sneer of rage, barely holding back the urge to fling curses instead of insults. Draco slumped down the hallway and stairs, and the door to the street opened and closed a moment later, and then Harry was alone.
He’d held back the one thing…too private to even admit to someone who had abandoned him this way. Anyone who would have asked for such a thing didn’t deserve to know what that last moment with Voldemort had been like. That Harry had clung to life and deflected that final curse only because of love. A love that had been built on a lie, and had been revealed as nothing more than Harry believing in someone who had never really intended to stay. His cheeks burned with humiliation while his breath heaved in the silence of Grimmauld Place.
------------------------------------------------------------
“I…I can’t…be that…for you. Please…understand…” Harry choked out words that he could cling to in the face of desperation. Draco was fool’s gold, like his father, a glittering prize that would disappear. A moment’s fancy that he had no right to, and wouldn’t take even if he could. He’d always known what right and wrong were, even if he’d sometimes failed to listen to the conscience that guided him. In this, this time, he did not fail.
Draco’s grip slackened, and the head that had been upright and boring its eyes into Harry’s soul just slumped forward, tired and listless against Harry’s chest. The voice was a muffled whisper against his robes.
“I know…I knew. I’m not really a student. I’m old enough. I like you. You’re good…and brilliant…and kind. Why wouldn’t I…want you? But you’re his…and I’m…I’m just me. I just thought…once…wouldn’t hurt. I want to remember something I wanted…and wouldn’t be sorry for…later. Please…just…something. No one would…”
“No.” The word was half strangled by the emotions that were struggling inside of him at the moment, trying to claw their way to the surface, but it was surprisingly easy to hold fast and repeat himself.
“You said it yourself. You know I couldn’t do that. It isn’t about what anyone else would know. It’s about what I know. I can’t be that for you. I’ll help you…I’ll be your advocate…or even your friend…but I can’t be that. It isn’t just because you’re a student of sorts, or not worthy of it…or any of that. Don’t think that. You know exactly why I can’t…wouldn’t.”
Draco remained quiet, comfortable against the warmth of Harry’s chest, refusing to budge for a long minute. With a sigh, he stiffened and backed away, and Harry let his arms fall to his sides with a matching sigh of relief. Draco couldn’t quite manage to look up, his face discolored by high emotions, and his eyes flicked upwards while he tried to look away.
“I…don’t want them to see me…like this. Could I go? Just for now? I know you need to tell them what happened. I don’t want to…I don’t even want to hear it again. I’m…I’ll be alright.”
Harry nodded while he composed himself. He’d have to speak to Minerva and John shortly, and in all honesty the morning had already left him feeling drained and ready to crawl to his suite for a long rest. Still…Draco looked desperate to leave, and Harry understood why. Swallowing so much pride…to say those things. It couldn’t have been easy, and frankly it would be hard to remain composed or detached while they were in the room together.
“Go ahead. I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out. It’ll be alright for now, and if there are any further questions, I’ll relay them to you myself. Acceptable?”
“Aye. Thank you.” Draco paused by the door, his hand clenched on the knob, eyes fixed on the grain of the wood while he spoke. “I’m not him. Not in any way that really counts…and I don’t want to be…but I’m not sorry that I asked…what I did.”
Before Harry could let those words soak in, the door was opened and shut and Draco was gone. Harry slumped back against the wall, letting his breath out slowly, rubbing his temples to let some of the tension slide away.
’John had it right along. This isn’t good. I hope I let the kid down easy enough. Hell, I hope he understands that it’s completely out of the question! I can handle…more…now…or I think I can, but Merlin! There are limits!’
------------------------------------------------------------
Draco hurried down the hall, still faintly dizzy from what he’d done. ’Merlin’s Name! What was I thinking? Master Prewett was right…I’m no good at this…kind of thing. I can’t believe I…I said…or did any of that!’
He paused and flopped back against a wall, catching his breath while his thoughts raced. Harry had been…incredibly decent. Speaking openly of Durmstrang, and of the event that had set him apart from the rest of the students…it had been intoxicating. Cathartic. Sweeter than any wine or candy by a thousand fold! No one had so consistently proven that they cared enough to even listen to him, not for eighteen years, and now Prewett and Harry both allowed an openness he’d never imagined. To say things like those, and to go without being judged in haste. It had made him reckless.
He’d almost spoken of the book. He’d wanted to…for the first time. The book he’d found in that attic trunk…possessions left from the night his parents had died. His only solace during the summer he’d returned home after second year. It had been an enigma first, locked and sealed, taunting him with possibilities of what might lie within. For a boy who’d hated himself so very much at that time, it had afforded a perfect and desperately needed distraction.
And then he’d opened it, and a comfort was his that he’d never known. It was cruel in a way, because it wasn’t more than a feeling, and ultimately only teased him with the suggestion that that feeling was possible, but he HAD felt loved, even if only while poring over a single, dusty volume in his room alone.
The forbidden-ness of it! To look through a window into the past, to know with clarity the exact words and thoughts of a parent he’d never known. And then there were the memories. The reminiscences of a time and a place. The regrets, the wishes and dreams, the hidden words that could never have been spoken. He’d read them all a hundred hundred times.
It had seemed simple enough…coming here…to meet Harry…to go unnoticed while he unearthed tidbits about his father’s past. It hadn’t worked out that way at all. It was all so terribly complicated now! Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to be some exhausted and careworn soul, still nursing a wound that had been done to him before Draco had even been born! He was supposed to be vital, swift, sure and powerful! He was supposed to be like the man he’d seen in the duel, at peace and untouchable in his Art and Craft. He was wise and good and kind beyond all reason…
And when he’d offered to hold someone who hurt, Draco had snatched at it madly, asking for more than he’d meant to, and more than he’d dared to even idly imagine. There were thoughts…the kind that came to a person when they closed their eyes and let their mind drift free…and those thoughts had sometimes brushed against the idea. The boy who’d come to Hogwarts had hated introspection, and still did, but had learned a little along the way. Draco knew himself just well enough to know the thought had been there. A guilty little secret that been pushed aside more than once.
He’d done it...unconsciously perhaps…but he’d done it just the same as then. Preening…showing off his intellect…striving to attract the attention of someone he’d read so much of and could only dream of in years past. His father’s diary had described a paragon…a man who stood above the world of the small and the petty…and who had been wronged. Was it so wrong to have wanted to know someone like that? To have something to believe in again? He hadn’t expected to find a shy, reclusive and ultimately flawed man, broken by the very circumstances that had made it possible for Draco to meet him! It had been…hurtful…when Harry had kept him at arms length, deliberately distant for reasons that were perfectly understandable now. It had stung to be pushed away by someone he…
Someone he wanted. It stung now too. Not enough to make him angry, but enough to make Draco sick to his stomach with the realization of what he’d wanted. These thoughts were too much. More than he wanted to be burdened with. He wanted his book…and quiet. He wanted to lose himself in dreams of another time, and the tantalizing hint of proof that a person could feel those things for another. He wanted to forget, and forget he would, at least for awhile.
Draco pulled away from the wall and walked purposefully on. He might miss a class, but at least he’d have some peace or a chance to regain his composure. It had been a terrible mistake…to let those feelings out. It would have to be undone…some amends made…but it wouldn’t happen again. He couldn’t speak of the book, or it might be taken from him, and that would be a loss he couldn’t bear, a final insult added to the injury that had been his life. To be teased with hope and then have it plucked away. He could never tell how he knew the things he knew…not and be sure that he’d still have one solace when he ached and hungered for a feeling he’d never known from another person. It was too much to risk.
Perhaps…if it could be shared…just for a short time. Or better…if something real took its place, but that hadn’t happened yet, and didn’t show any signs of manifesting anytime soon. No…it was too much to risk. It was his by right, and only he could have opened it. Didn’t that mean that fate had intended it for him? There was no closeness for him here…just like everywhere else. He would keep his one comfort to himself. He knew for a fact that it was better than nothing.
They’d call for him via magic if he was needed, and what he wanted most was peace and silence. Facing rooms full of others with these chaotic feelings running loose…wouldn’t do. Warded in his room, his trunk was spelled safe and opened, and the book received his blood and name…his birthright. The tiny lock clicked open and the world of the now was dead to him…while the all encompassing feeling of being loved, utterly and without condition, washed over his senses like a cool breeze in a stifling room.
TBC!!!