Practicing Liars | By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 63257 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
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Chapter
Thirty-Three—Trust Among Gryffindors
“What’s
this about, mate?”
“Yes,
Harry,” Hermione said, her voice softer and touched with a gentleness that
Harry didn’t hear in Ron’s, but her gaze as intense. “You said you had
something to tell us. What is it?”
Harry
licked his lips and leaned his back briefly against the door of Umbridge’s old
office. This was harder than he had thought it would be.
They’re still your friends, he argued to
himself. It’s all right. They’ll be happy
for you once you tell them that you’re on the way to getting rid of the
Horcrux.
But he
doubted that would change their anger about finding out that he’d kept this
from them in the first place, and their anger was what had made him hesitate
for so long. Now that he was here, he didn’t know if he could go through with
the confession he’d planned on.
Oh, nonsense, he thought to himself,
with a voice that he knew sounded like Snape’s. These are your friends, your oldest friends. They’ve shared all sorts
of dangers with you, all sorts of adventures—more than Draco and Snape have.
And you told Draco and Snape the truth, no matter how hard it was. Why would
this be any harder? You just have to muster up your courage and tackle their
anger the way you tackled Draco’s reluctance to leave you alone and Snape’s
reluctance to give you your freedom.
“I have
something to tell you,” he said, taking refuge for the moment in what Hermione
had already repeated. He paused, licked his lips again, and then decided to
just plunge forwards and say it. Ron’s face was so red that Harry was afraid he
would die of curiosity before Harry could communicate it, otherwise. “There’s
one more Horcrux. Dumbledore told me. Voldemort accidentally gave me part of
his soul when he tried to kill me, and so I’m a living Horcrux.”
Hermione’s
face turned pale. Ron’s mouth fell open. And then he was on his feet and
rushing across the room, patting clumsily at Harry’s shoulders, murmuring, “I’m
sorry, mate, I’m sorry, why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have helped you
handle this, we could have done
something—”
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione sounded as if she was
about to cry, and she hugged Harry from the other side. “No wonder you’ve been
so strange and distant! You were figuring out the best way to live with this or
die, weren’t you?”
Harry
stroked her hair, sorry now that he’d kept the secret so long. He had thought
they would be angry and hurt, but for some reason, he’d never thought once
about how it would make them feel sad and helpless.
“I’m
sorry,” he whispered. “But we did come
up with a plan. There’s a potion that can take the Horcrux out of me, and then
it’ll be gone, and that’s that.”
Hermione’s
arms closed around him with what felt like a spasm of relief, and Ron
whispered, “That’s wonderful, mate.”
Then he paused.
Harry went
on stroking Hermione’s hair, and thinking in resignation about what would come
next.
“Who made
the plan?” Ron demanded. “Who brewed the potion? Why did you share this with
other people and not us?” Already the hurt was gathering in his voice like a
stormcloud in the sky, and Harry winced when he thought of how much worse it
would get in a little while.
“Well,
Snape and Draco knew about me being a Horcrux,” Harry answered. “And Dumbledore,
since he told me.” He added quickly, before the storm in Ron’s voice and face
could release all its rain, “But Snape and Draco found out on their own,
because Snape used Legilimency on me and then mentioned it in front of Draco. I
never would have told them about it if I had a choice.”
At least not then, he admitted to
himself. It would have taken some time
until I felt comfortable enough with them to admit that.
“I see,”
Ron said, in a voice that was almost shrill, breaking away from Harry. “So they
could know, but we weren’t allowed
to. I see.” He turned to stare at the wall, his arms folded so tightly that his
shoulders hunched.
“No,” Harry said. “I didn’t tell you at
first because I wasn’t telling anyone, and then because Draco and Snape found out
and I resented the idea of sharing anything else with anybody. I promise, Ron.”
He realized he was almost shouting, and made an effort to soften his voice. “I
would have told you eventually. But every time I thought about it, it just
seemed too hard, and I put it off until the next day.”
“You should
have told us,” Hermione said, leaning away from him even though she was still
embracing him. “Why are you telling us now? Did someone say you had to?”
Harry shook
his head. “No, I decided it was time. And that I wanted to say I was sorry for
cutting you out of so much of my life.” He took a deep breath and spoke the
only part of this speech he’d rehearsed, because he had to make his feelings
clear without hurting theirs. “I felt that you were ignoring me earlier in the
year. It wasn’t entirely fair of me to feel that way, because I knew why it
happened, and because I was keeping secrets of my own. But I did. So maybe
hiding this from you was revenge, in a way.”
“So you
chose to tell us on your own because it was the right thing to do?” Hermione
examined him with big, solemn eyes.
Harry
nodded.
Hermione
looked thoughtfully at Ron, and then stepped away from Harry to put a hand on
Ron’s shoulder. Harry swallowed a little to see how much at ease they looked,
how close and how confident.
Will I ever look like that with Draco
someday? Or is our relationship going to remain difficult and conflicted?
Then
Hermione and Ron came back to him, and they both nodded. Ron still looked
resentful, but he didn’t open his mouth to snap insults that Harry couldn’t
have answered, and Harry would take that at the moment.
“We still
love you, Harry,” Hermione said. Ron started to open his mouth, maybe to object
to the word “love,” and Hermione hit him in the side with her elbow. Ron closed
his mouth and stared at the floor. “But it’s getting awfully hard to trust
you,” Hermione went on. “How do we know that we can trust you this time?”
“Go talk to
Professor Snape,” Harry said at once. “He’ll tell you about the Entwining
Potion he’s been brewing that’s supposed to tug the Horcrux out of me.” He had
prepared Snape as much as he could for having questions like that asked, the
last time they were in his office together, and Harry thought Snape, from a few
narrow-eyed glances and remarks he’d made about Gryffindor loudmouths, had
understood.
“I will,”
Hermione said, with a firm little nod, though Ron looked as if he wanted to
believe Harry rather than go through that.
“And what about Dumbledore? Does this have something to do with why you went
and talked to him, on that day after you defeated the tiara?”
“And Malfoy
could go with you,” Ron said, in the tone of someone having a revelation, “but
you wouldn’t let us come.”
“Yes,”
Harry said. “We talked about the Horcruxes, and about me being a Horcrux.” He
hesitated, but the thought of his friends going to Dumbledore and asking
questions, and Dumbledore maybe twisting things, made him go on. “Dumbledore
knew about it for longer than I did. And he was the one who told me that I
would have to die, there was no way around it. Snape was the one who refused to
believe that and started brewing the potion.”
Hermione
shut her eyes. Ron stared at him, then whispered, “I can’t believe that. Not
Dumbledore.”
“He’s a
good leader,” Harry said. “I believe that. But that means that he doesn’t think
as much about individuals as he could. He said that he would hate to sacrifice
me, that it was horrible to think about, but he would have done it if there was
no other choice.”
Ron shut
his eyes in turn. Hermione finally said, in a high, thin voice, “And you can
still bear being in the school with him?”
“Yes,”
Harry said. “Because I understand why he did it. I told you, he’s a good
leader. I can’t really forgive him,
not yet, but I can understand. If it had to be me or the world, I would rather
it be me. Wouldn’t you feel the same way?” he asked, addressing Ron more than
Hermione, because he was more purely Gryffindor. “Wouldn’t you rather die to
save the world than have the world die to save you?”
Ron’s face
cleared. He put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and said, “It’s all right,
Hermione. If Harry can bear it, we should be able to.”
Hermione
actually faced Ron and stomped her foot. So
much for no conflict in their relationship, Harry thought wryly. “How can
you say that? Why would you—oh, it’s too horrid to think about!” She spun
around and faced Harry again, her hands reaching out as if she wanted to take
his and pull him to a safe place. “Dumbledore was the one person I thought we
could count on to keep you safe,” she said tearfully. “He always seemed to care
so much before. And then I find out that we can’t trust him at all!”
“He
wouldn’t just kill me,” Harry said quietly. “He told me about it first, and
risked me running away or babbling the secret all over school just to find some
way to survive, because he thought I would be mature enough to see the
necessity. And really, I was.”
“Stop,
Hermione,” Ron said, not loudly, but firmly enough to make her forget whatever
she was about to say and look at him. “I think we can trust Harry. He’s acting
the way he used to, explaining things in a clear way.”
“Do you
think that’s clear?” Hermione
muttered, but she slowed down and listened to Ron for the minute, and Harry
smiled gratefully at his best friend.
“Harry’s
thinking like a Gryffindor,” Ron said, never taking his eyes away from Harry,
who felt compelled to stand straighter and taller. He thought Ron had never
looked so much like his father. “He’s thinking that it would be better for him
to die than other people. And he’s being honest, even if it is a little late.”
He eyed Harry sternly with that line. Harry nodded, aware that he flushed.
“That’s why I think that Snape and Malfoy haven’t managed to corrupt him or
anything like that, and neither has Dumbledore. Besides, did you listen? Harry
found a way to keep from having to die. He even found a way to make Snape help him. I think that matters.
It’s horrible news, but at least Harry considered the options and got help.
Even if it wasn’t from us,” he added, a little gloomily. Then he leaned
forwards and stared intently at Harry. “Does Voldemort know about this, mate?”
“I don’t
think so,” Harry replied. “I haven’t really had any dreams that show me the
inside of his head this year, but Dumbledore thought he didn’t know. Otherwise,
why would he have tried to kill me?”
Ron nodded,
satisfied. Then he paused, gave Harry a keen glance, and added, “That’s not all
your secrets, is it?”
Harry tried
to clear his throat, but it was unexpectedly difficult. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,”
Ron said, “that you haven’t told us what made you start calling Malfoy Draco
yet, and you haven’t told us why Snape wanted to help you so much. I could see
him helping you some of the time, but not with this, unless Dumbledore ordered
him. And Dumbledore wouldn’t have ordered him to do it if he thought your
survival was hopeless. So what kind of secrets tie you to them?”
“You can
tell us, Harry,” Hermione said, wiping tears away and staring at him. “I
promise. We aren’t going to laugh or yell or get upset.”
“I think
you will,” Harry said, looking at Ron and thinking about what he would say when
he learned that Harry was Snape’s son.
“Will not,”
Ron said automatically, and then grinned at him. Harry wished he could smile
back as easily.
“I promise
we won’t,” Hermione said, and clasped Ron’s hand as if she had the ability to
make that true for him as well as for herself. “Now, tell us.” She looked
fretful already, as if Harry had hinted about the secret to them and then
refused to reveal it fully even when they asked.
Harry
swallowed. “The problem is that it’s not just my secret,” he said. “It belongs
to them, too. And Professor Snape doesn’t trust you the way I do.”
“Well, he should,” said Ron, and folded his arms
mutinously.
“But he
doesn’t,” Harry said, and then sighed when two stubborn faces confronted him.
“Look, I’ll ask Snape and Draco, all right? The worst they can say is no. And
someday you’ll know them, when everyone knows them. But I don’t know when that
will be.”
Hermione
frowned at him. “You’re being very mysterious. What kind of secret can you
share with everyone but not just your two best friends?”
“Maybe I
can, with permission,” Harry said, evasively. He was disturbed by what he had
just said, and wanted them to go away so he could think about it in peace. “Can
I—look, I’ll go and ask them. Please?”
Hermione
took one long look in his face, then nodded and said to Ron, “Of course we
should leave him alone for a little while. Come on.”
Ron clapped
Harry on the shoulder before he followed Hermione. “Good to have you back,
mate,” he said, with a wink.
Harry
leaned against the wall when he was alone and exhaled a sharp breath. He wasn’t
disturbed, at least not really, by the thought of telling everyone about his
relationship with Draco when the war with Voldemort was over. The two people
who would most disapprove, Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy, would both be dead, and
Harry was happy with Draco and wanted to demonstrate that.
But telling
everyone about his relationship with Snape…
When had he
decided that would be a good idea?
When he
thought about it in more detail, Harry had to admit, and ran a hand over his
face, shaking his head. It would gratify Snape, he thought now—as long as it
was done on his own time. He had made it clear that he wanted Harry as his son,
though even now Harry was not sure that he understood all the reasons behind that. And Harry would be grateful that he no
longer had to keep it a secret from Ron and Hermione.
But there
was a big difference between telling Ron and Hermione and telling everyone in
the world. What had possessed him to say that?
Harry shoved
the thought into the depths of his mind, where it could live or die as it
pleased. Really, the most important point now was to find Snape and see what he
had to say about this.
*
“Sir?”
Severus
kept his head bowed over the cauldron for a moment after Harry spoke, because
his son would misunderstand any displeasure he displayed. He had begun to tire
of the name “sir” that so many students offered him, and which Harry said to
him as much when they were alone as when they were in class. He wanted some
more unique name to flow from his son’s mouth. He wanted Harry to acknowledge
that there was a bond between them that did not exist between Severus and his
other students.
But he did
not know how to ask for such a gift, and he did not know which name he would
have preferred.
“Yes,
Harry?” he said at last, when he thought he had overcome his displeasure and
could speak normally.
“I told Ron
and Hermione the truth about me being a Horcrux, and I was wondering—”
That was as
far as he got before Severus wheeled around and pinned him with a stare that he
knew was darker than the situation warranted. Harry swallowed and flinched, the
way he often did when Severus made a sudden movement, but he didn’t back up.
That was progress, at least. He lifted his head and stared at Severus instead,
with a haughty little motion of his chin that Severus thought he had inherited
equally from both him and Lily.
“You told
your friends such an important and dark secret?” Severus asked softly. Harry
shuddered; at least he knew that softness was more to be feared than the tone
he might have used when discussing ordinary matters.
“Yes,”
Harry said. “It was time, and they needed to know the one secret that was
solely mine to tell them.”
The defiant
tone of those last words told Severus what his son would probably ask of him,
but he was more interested in something else just now.
“These are
the friends who have spoken openly of Horcruxes once before,” he said, and
introduced an ominous reverberation into his voice that made Harry look at him
thoughtfully, as if he was wondering more about how that trick was done than
why Severus was upset. “What makes you think that they can keep the secret
safely this time?”
“Because
they know that it’s more important,” Harry said simply. “I’m sure they know
that, from the way that I looked. And Hermione did learn from that one
incident, sir. She won’t do it again, I’m sure.”
Severus
growled in frustration. “But you didn’t ask them to,” he said.
Harry
looked at him with a strange expression that Severus could not read even when
he had studied it for a minute, or when Harry had said, “I didn’t have to.”
Severus
turned away at last, and said, “What were you going to ask when I interrupted?”
He went back to the cauldron. The Entwining Potion was nearly finished. He
would complete it in two days, in fact, and he thought now that he would need
less than a week for the testing on rats and other small animals. But he was
not sure he should tell Harry that. On the one hand, surely he would be eager
to be free from the Horcrux and any unknown influence that it might exert on
his soul.
On the
other hand, it would mean that he was facing extreme pain more quickly than he
would have thought he had to.
“I want you
to let me tell Ron and Hermione that you’re my father,” Harry said, in a
breathless rush, as if the words hurt to speak and he wanted to have the ordeal
over all at once.
Severus
froze, eyes locked on the potion, which was red now and exploding with slow,
lazy bubbles that worked their way to the surface as if they could make their
lives better by getting there.
The request
had been the one he had foreseen. And now that the moment was here, he had no
idea how to deal with it, caught as he was between pride and pain.
The pride
was easy enough to explain. Harry was willing to reveal their relationship to
his friends. He had accepted Severus enough into his life to ensure that.
But the
pain was more complex. It had to do with the speed Harry had used to utter the
words, and the contempt Severus was sure he would see in Granger’s and
Weasley’s faces the morning after Harry’s revelation, and the way that Harry
sounded as if he was half-afraid of Severus even now.
Can you blame him if, even now, he finds the
thought of having a father who once tormented him distasteful?
He could
not. And that added to the pain.
He turned
around at last, and fixed his eyes on Harry. Harry had his arms folded by now,
and his face held a sulky expression that Severus would have liked to make
vanish. On the other hand, when had Harry ever been confident enough before to
show him a sulky expression?
And then it
was as if the words Harry had used before finally caught up with a brain, or
ears, that were slow or hard of hearing.
When has he called me father?
But Harry
had. He had said the word casually, as if it were not a matter of forethought,
or at least not a matter of more forethought than the sentiment that had led
him to ask for permission in the first place.
“How
exactly would you explain it?’ Severus asked. “How much of the story do you
expect to tell them?”
Harry eyed
him sideways and straightened up a little, seeming calmer now that he thought
Severus wasn’t going to lash out at him, either with fists or words. Severus
lowered his eyelids to shield his anger, the anger he always felt when he saw
the edges to Harry’s reactions that should not have been there.
“As much as
I can,” Harry said. “The whole thing, with your permission.”
Severus
tilted his head. “They will say hurtful things to you,” he said. “Weasley may well
never accept you again, if he learns that you are my son.”
He had
spoken those exact words on purpose, so that he could see if Harry flinched
from such a blunt acknowledgment of the truth, but the only thing he got in
return was a level stare. “I know that,” Harry said. “But I think I’ll be able
to talk him around eventually. And besides, I’m tired of living with this many
secrets. This is the one I’ve kept longest.” He paused, nibbling his lip. “I
reckon,” he said at last, “that I would rather chance Ron never being my friend
again than I would him and Hermione finding out about this someday, and feeling
betrayed.”
Severus
nodded. A reasonable response, one based on the friendship that he knew existed
between the three young Gryffindors, and one that he should have expected.
“Besides,”
Harry added abruptly, his eyes locked on Severus as if he expected to encounter
defiance from that direction, “I want people
to know about this. I want them to know about—you. I want them to know that I
have a father.”
He shrank
back again after that, as if he thought that Severus would bark at him for
speaking the words.
Severus had
heard of incantations that could turn people into statues while preserving the
appearance of flesh. The living would grieve around the enchanted person and
bury them, while the person died slowly inside the coffin, alive but unable to
move or speak or even breathe, imprisoned by wood and their own bodies.
He felt as
if he had been hit by one of those incantations.
When my son decides to move, he moves
quickly.
“Sir?”
Harry asked, his forehead wrinkled, as if he didn’t know why Severus would
simply stand there and stare at him.
The name
did not grate so much this time. Severus had won more than he expected, and the
minor matter of a name could wait.
He nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “You may tell them everything, as long as they promise not to
speak of it to others. I do not have your trust in them.”
Harry
smiled at him. “Thanks, sir,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” And he burst
out of the office, running away, probably, to his little friends.
That smile
remained with Severus as he turned back to the brewing.
*
MewMew2:
Thanks! I don’t think Severus thinks of Lily as an angel, though he certainly
does obsess over her.
Sneakyfox:
Thank you!
polka dot:
He did. Where in the chapter did he indicate otherwise?
SP777: I
have no idea about the duels.
I think,
unfortunately, that I just don’t have that much talent for AU’s where I don’t
build the infrastructure from the ground up, so a fluffy little AU is out of
the question.
Well, Harry
does think they deserve to know, though of course they will have to make their
own decisions.
k lave
demo: Thank you! Draco is extremely happy, and extremely smug.
Thrnbrooke:
Thank you!
Mia:
Thanks!
anciie:
Thanks!
I think
Snape needed some outside pressure to make him into a good father. If Harry
hadn’t had the Horcrux inside him, for example, their reconciliation might not
have been as quick.
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