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Forgive Those Who Trespass	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 20650 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 33
- 34
Thank you for all the reviews!

This is the last chapter of Forgive Those Who Trespass. A few people have asked about sequels,
but I don�t think this is a story that�s suited to them. Thanks again for
reading along!

Epilogue�Gray Light

�� Draco woke
screaming and thrashing at night, his lips dropping broken mumbles of words,
his hands scrabbling frantically for reassurance that wasn�t there. And then
Harry rolled over and embraced him, and the reassurance was there.

�� Harry
kissed him and whispered to him, and Draco would calm down. Sometimes he would
make a short acknowledgment of what the nightmare had been about. Thanks to
their shared experiences in the maze, he never needed more than a word or two
to make Harry realize what he�d been dreaming about. Then he would turn and
bury his head in his arms.

�� Sometimes,
depending on what he seemed to need, Harry let him. Sometimes he dragged Draco�s
head back around and kissed him full on the mouth, tipping his neck back,
creating enough heat between them to keep Draco grounded.

�� Draco would
cry out and touch him softly, reverently, unsurely, as if he had momentarily forgotten
that he had fingers. Harry touched him back in the same way, running his
fingertips into the shadows under the coiled muscles of Draco�s torso and
counting all his ribs.

�� They slept wrapped
together like vipers, but Harry always woke earlier and watched Draco breathing
noiselessly, a great murky peace rippling through him like the motion of light
in water, like light on thunderheads.

*

�� Their flat
in Morgana�s Yard was their place,
decorated with no one�s insight or furnishings but their own. Narcissa had
tried to convince Draco to decorate it like the Manor; Hermione sent tasteful
arrangement after arrangement by owl post and through the Floo. Harry and Draco
adopted none of them.

�� The
entrance hall was broad and open, so full of enchanted windows that no shadows
were cast there no matter how late in the day it was. Draco didn�t like
shadows; he tensed up around them and hunched his shoulders. Harry hated to see
him hunching his shoulders. He would rub them flat again and create one more
diamond-shaped, tiny pane in the windows, to fracture the light into yet more
beautiful patterns, until Draco�s face became radiant like the light and he
laughed.

�� The flat
had three large rooms that had probably been bedrooms or studies for the flat�s
previous inhabitants; Harry and Draco made them into drawing rooms, one private
one for each of them, and one where they could be together. Draco�s was deep
green, deep blue, with moving paintings of tropical birds on the walls. Harry
knew he�d never quite healed from the year spent amid the bleakness of gray
stone. The long sojourn in St. Mungo�s and its soothing blue banality probably
hadn�t helped, either. He needed life around
him, and life was what he had.

�� Harry�s
drawing room was decorated exactly like the Gryffindor common room. Hardly
original, but he needed comfort when he�d had a fight with Draco, or another
sharp reminder of how much his body couldn�t do now, or just a bad day. He�d
prop his feet up on a couch and chat with Ron and Hermione through the
fireplace, or do the exercises that Odd Robert had sternly assigned to him. He
liked flowing from one motion to another. It exercised his body, and soothed
his thoughts, and prevented him from having to reflect on anything in depth.

�� The drawing
room they shared together was brown, with softer tones of the same color
striping the furniture. Warm brown with a hint of gold, like honey, made up the
rugs. The enchanted window gazed out on a brown savannah landscape, flecked here
and there with green and blue, grass and water, but only the faintest touch for
each. This was the room where they came to work together on the writing
exercises that St. Mungo�s Mind-Healers assigned them�Harry thought in faint
amusement that it was like doing lines again�and to talk about memories, or to
read together, or just to sit side by side in peace and silence after a meal.

�� The kitchen
was filled with brown, too, but so many windows glowed here, as in the entrance
hall, that it looked gold. The sun always shone on the broad table that they didn�t
really need but which they kept for
the pleasure of shifting from place to place about it as they fancied, and
Harry inhaled each time he stepped into the room. It was filled with quiet light. He liked that.

�� Their
bedroom and the loo were at the back of the flat, behind their shared drawing
room. The bedroom was the only room in the flat with a natural window; Harry
and Draco had argued about that, but in the end they agreed they could stand to
look at Wales weather once in a while. The view wasn�t spectacular�just a flat
field butted up against some stony outcrops of hills�but it was adequate.

�� Harry was
learning to live with adequate.

�� The bed
itself was big, lavish, and imprinted with a spell that let it change colors to
match the moods of the people lying in it. When Draco was alone, it often
looked like gray velvet or black satin. It took Harry a while to stop panicking
and accept that as just a natural part of the life they lived now. When they
were in it together, red or gold shone out of the curtains most often, and
Draco would arch his back and tease Harry with constant jokes about the randy
exploits Gryffindors must have got up to at Hogwarts, encouraged by their own
bed curtains.

�� Harry would
lean down and kiss him, muffling any reply. It still hurt, sometimes, to think
about Hogwarts.

�� The entire
flat was decorated in wood�wood on the walls, wood on the floors beneath the
rugs and carpets, wood on the ceilings. Harry had had enough of stone.

*

�� There came
a day when they went shopping in Diagon Alley, and Draco didn�t shrink against
Harry and flinch from the crowds about them, and Harry didn�t snarl and bristle
and see danger in every shadow. He put his arm around Draco�s shoulders for the
pleasure of comforting him, not in desperate reassurance, and they walked on.

�� And no one
insulted Draco, either. Though Draco stated when they got back to Morgana�s
Yard that that had more to do with Harry�s drawn wand than anything else, and
Harry was forced to agree.

*

�� Draco did
write to his friends, and they wrote back. Harry knew that for certain the day
he came back from an interview with the retiring coach of the Chudley Cannons
and found Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini drinking tea in Draco�s drawing
room.

�� They both
stood when they saw Harry, but calmly, not as if they expected the
Man-Who-Had-Defeated-Voldemort to whip out his wand and eviscerate them. In
fact, their eyes studied him with more open curiosity than Harry had ever
expected to see from two Slytherins. He supposed Draco had been telling them
tales.

�� Harry
nodded and smiled at them and walked past, heading for his own room. The
temptation to stay nearby and listen in on their conversation wasn�t even there.

�� Well, it
wasn�t large, anyway.

�� Besides,
Draco had cleverly foiled the impulse by choosing the drawing room that opened
directly from the entrance hall into their shared one, with no doors, and
therefore Harry had no way to eavesdrop. But that had nothing to do with his
decision. What did was his newfound
maturity.

*

�� Ron and
Hermione were married at the end of the next summer. Harry stood happily at
their sides, and danced happily with the bride afterwards; the first song
chosen wasn�t one that would be dangerous for him to move to.

�� Then
someone pulled Hermione aside, and Harry blinked as Draco stepped into her
place, his eyes brilliant and dangerous, like sheet lightning. He leaned over
and pressed his lips against Harry�s ear, and murmured words Harry could barely
hear, but which staked his claim.

�� Harry
shivered, and let himself be swept away. Most of the time, he still enjoyed
playing the protective role�particularly when Draco was too overwhelmed by a
memory of the maze to do anything but cling�but sometimes it was nice to be watched
over, and touched like this, and seduced with just a glance.

*

�� Strong arms
clasped his body, and a voice murmured frantic condolences and reassurances
into his ear. Harry clung to them, not having a reason to doubt or mistrust
that voice, and the arms swept him through a bumpy Floo ride, and then the
voice rose and shouted imperiously for Odd Robert. Harry stirred fretfully. He preferred
that voice when it was quiet and whispering words for him alone.

�� Draco got
Harry to Odd Robert in time. Odd Robert was able to save Harry�s life when his
body locked down after he�d cast spell after spell in a fit of pique and
self-loathing at not being able to fly. The Mind-Healer was disappointed, and his
lecture before he left Harry to see to his next patient�a woman who had spent a
month trapped as a housefly in a botched Transfiguration�made Harry squirm and
feel small.

�� When Draco
found out Harry had endangered himself, and pushed his body recklessly past the
first warning signs, he made Odd Robert�s scolding look like a love-tap. He
screamed in absolute rage. He kicked the bed. He used the secrets Harry had
entrusted to him against him, and cut Harry to small and wriggling shreds,
until Harry was crying, panicked, hurt, fearful that Draco might leave him.

�� And then
Draco sighed, and wrapped his arms around Harry, and murmured more
reassurances. He couldn�t leave, he told Harry. If he could have, he might have
walked out long ago. Might. He didn�t
think that he knew how to get along without Harry anymore, and no one could
ever take Harry�s place for him if he walked away.

�� Harry clung
back, letting his hands travel over Draco�s shoulders, and eventually fell asleep,
murmuring promises that he didn�t remember on waking.

*

�� Draco
wanted it.

�� That was
the main reason Harry had agreed to go through with this, even though his hands
shook as he pulled off his clothes.

�� Draco
wanted it.

�� He�d hinted
and teased and touched until Harry was in a haze of desire last night, and then
he�d whispered his request, and Harry had moaned, tortured and full of
tenderness that Draco would ask like this,
when he was defenseless and would agree to anything so long as Draco would make
him come. Draco was still a Slytherin. But that he could ask for something so large
so unscrupulously and trust Harry not to hate him afterwards was a sign of
incredible progress.

�� Draco
wanted it.

�� Harry
finished undressing and lay down stiffly in the middle of the bed, his arms at
his sides. The blankets and curtains promptly turned black. He knew he looked
like a corpse. He couldn�t help it. He felt like one.

�� They�d discussed
who should be on top, and finally, Draco had agreed with Harry that he�d do it.
Harry was too incredibly afraid of hurting Draco, even when Draco had assured
him that he�d enjoy it because this was Harry.
But finally he�d raised one eyebrow and agreed, murmuring that maybe when Harry
saw anal sex wasn�t an unmitigated evil, he�d be more willing to do it the
other way around.

�� A light
footstep sounded near the door of the bedroom. Harry turned his head,
shivering, and met Draco�s eyes.

�� And he felt
a slow, delightful burn start building from his stomach. This wasn�t desire.
This was trust.

�� This was Draco, and whilst he hurt Harry, again
and again, they always stood a chance of coming back together and healing their
wounds.

�� Draco never
took his eyes from Harry as he undressed, and though Harry had seen him do it
hundreds of times before, he pulsed like it was new when he watched those long,
pale limbs emerge from Draco�s clothes. Only when Draco�s cock came into sight
did he remember where it would go, and then he sickened and turned his head
away.

�� Draco
paused. Harry read the message in his silence. They could stop if Harry�s fear
was too great, and though he would be disappointed, there was no shame in it.

�� But Draco
had had too many disappointments in his life. Harry wanted to help make up for
them. He looked back at Draco and managed a smile, and Draco smiled back, drew
off his pants, and laid them neatly on the chair beside his trousers. He was always
being neat, folding his clothes like that, even when he�d wear a different set
the next day. Harry never knew why; they only got wrinkled in the end when they
were washed, anyway.

�� Draco
walked up to him and spent long minutes just touching, running his fingers up
and down Harry�s shoulder to his elbow, caressing his inner thighs, letting his
hair, which was growing out, rasp across Harry�s neck. Finally Harry shivered
again and spread his thighs, and Draco leaned over and retrieved the jar of
lubrication from the bedside table.

�� Lubrication. The word sounded like a
fat, juicy beetle in Harry�s mouth, something ready to burst and crunch. Was
there a less sexy word in existence?

�� But he spread
his legs, and Draco reached down gently to his anus�no, think of it as the
entrance, Harry counseled himself, it was sexier that way. They had already
performed purifying spells, several times, so Harry knew he was clean. But he
still had to close his eyes when Draco nudged a finger inside.

�� He listened
instead of looking. Listening had been his keener sense when he was transformed
into the maze, easier to use than sight, and the one good legacy his transformation had left him with�if you didn�t
count Draco�was hearing that even Odd Robert admitted was excellent.

�� He listened
to Draco�s breaths, which became heavier and deepened into pants as he fingered
Harry. No matter how Harry concentrated, though, he couldn�t hear Draco
stroking his own cock. He was becoming aroused just doing this to Harry. He was
full of desire, shaking with it, his fingers shaking as they stroked deeper and
deeper inside.

�� That was
something, wasn�t it? He was happy. He was pleased. Harry could be proud of
that.

�� And then
Draco�s fingers stroked over something inside him that made his eyes fly open
and a shrill scream break from his throat. He saw Draco�s happy, smirking face
for a moment before he shut his eyes again.

�� Draco had
told him about his prostate, but Harry hadn�t really believed him. Of course, Draco got off on fingering and didn�t mind
Harry doing it to him, but Harry had thought that was a pleasure real, normal
gay men got to experience and he just wouldn�t. He wasn�t normal. It wasn�t
normal to still be this frightened of something real gay men did every day.

�� And then
Draco murmured his name.

�� Everything
went soft and slippery and warm from there, time melting and dripping down past
his ears. Harry heard the sound of his own voice begging softly, and Draco
responded with kisses to his shoulder and flanks. He worked in�how many
fingers? Harry couldn�t tell�and then he drew away, and Harry almost tensed,
because he knew what came next.

�� But it was
so impossibly soft and so impossibly slow, with Draco pausing between each
quarter-inch to groan and touch Harry, and Harry�s own breathing, though it
grew faster, never rose to full panic. And their bodies slipped against the
sheets, but didn�t squeak, and the lubricant didn�t make horrible squelching
noises, as Harry had been afraid it would. Draco had assured Harry that he
retained enough Potions skills to breed serviceable but still silent lubricant,
but Harry hadn�t believed him about that either.

�� He could
distrust Draco, the way Draco could hurt him and he could hurt Draco, but they
always curved up and came back together, and the wound healed�sometimes with a
scar, sometimes without.

�� At last,
Draco began to move, gentle little rocks of his hips. Harry lay with his eyes
closed and refused to look. He knew he would be undone if he looked. Hell, it
was hard enough listening to Draco�s deep grunts and gasps of pleasure, hard
enough getting used to the shifting feeling of fullness in his own body.

�� But�maybe it
wasn�t so bad. So long as it was done with cleaning spells beforehand, and the
partner on top was careful and gentle and slow. Harry relaxed. He would be
willing to do this again. He would be willing to do this to Draco, maybe. As long as he didn�t think too
much about it, and as long as he relied on something else to actually come.

�� And then�

�� Then Draco
touched the thing inside him again, and Harry whimpered and shifted, and Draco�s
voice whispered, �Harry,� in the
pleading tone Harry hadn�t heard often since the maze.

�� And then he
made the mistake of opening his eyes.

�� Draco was
golden, skin and hair and eyes, in the light of the single lamp, and he was
pleasure, his face transfigured with it, and he was strength, his muscles clenching
and bunching and releasing the way Harry had seen them before but with a far
greater balance and tension, and he was�

�� He was not
entirely happy, from the small wrinkles in his face. But those smoothed out
when he saw Harry looking, and he smiled.

�� And then he
began to move faster.

�� And time
slipped again and sped, and Harry never knew exactly how fast Draco moved, but
it couldn�t have been as bloody fast as it felt
like, and his own muscles took the strain and began to ache pleasantly, and
he became aware he was shoving himself backwards�how did that happen?�and this really wasn�t so bad after all, though he
could feel the cracks starting in himself as he stared into Draco�s eyes, and
then Draco mouthed Harry and tossed
his head back, neck a long curve like a leaping dolphin�s as he began to come.

�� And Harry
broke into pieces, the way he had been afraid he would, and puffed into dust,
and fell into darkness as his own orgasm took him, entirely unexpected, born of
the passion and the joy that had struck Draco in that one moment.

�� But Draco followed
him down into the darkness, and picked him up, and put him back together again
with soft kisses and a continued, gently insistent pressure in his arse, always
present but making no demands. And when he was free he cleaned them at once,
and then lay down beside him, and he and Harry curled there together in silence
of their own choosing, whilst Harry�s fear flapped idle wings above him like a
raven on a corpse, itself frightened, uncertain.

*

�� Harry opened
his eyes and shifted his body experimentally. His arse hurt, but he�d had
worse. And he knew Draco would be happy to practice Healing Charms on it.

�� He�d had
anal sex. And he�d survived. And he loved Draco as deeply and passionately and
dependently and jaggedly as he ever had.

�� Maybe being
gay wasn�t quite so bad as all that.

�� He lay on
the inner side of the bed. Draco was snoring beside him, those deep, snuffling
breaths that meant he hadn�t woken from a nightmare all night. His head lay on
his curved arm, his face tipped towards the window. Harry watched him for long
moments, his heart hurting with his emotions, finally becoming aware that the
lamp had burned down and the light on his face came from the window itself.

�� Harry
lifted his eyes.

�� Gray light
was coming in across the field and the stony hills outside�the gray light of
dawn before the sun, gray light of morning, gray light of ambiguous promise.

The End.

*

�� Hi-chan:
Thank you! I�m afraid this has to end, but I�ll keep writing on other stories.
A new novel will start in about a week to take the place of this one in the
writing schedule, called Changing of the
Guard.

�� Thrnbrooke:
I know! But all good things must come to an end, and now this has.
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Forgive Those Who Trespass