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The Echoes Of Yesterday	By : Samaelthekind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17654 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 40
- 41
- 42
The Echoes Of Yesterday...by Samayel
Chapter 41: The Aftermath
Harry felt consciousness flutter back to him, and knew instantly that he still stood upright, unmoving since the moment he'd first taken the book into his hands. Across from him, a stunned Draco the Younger seemed to be blinking in confusion and surprise as he emerged from the trance that had held him. Just as a look of horror cross the boys face when he realized what Harry held, a wisp of sparkling golden light slid up from the pages, and for a moment they were each suffused with the overwhelming sense of deepest love and affection. A second later the light dimmed and faded, and moments after that even the sense of magical presence and the presence of love were gone as well.
Young Draco turned white as a sheet, staring in numb shock at the book in Harry's hands. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and touched the open page plaintively, his face twisting into a mask of stifled loss and fear. He could only barely manage a whisper while looking up to Harry with eyes that were already tearing up beyond control.
“It's...it's gone. Gone! There's...there's nothing there...anymore.”
Draco sunk to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, fighting off sobs that threatened to nearly pull him apart. His breath started to come in deep gasps, forced in between strangled cries.
“NO! Noooo! N-not that! It...it was...everything! Gone...it's gone! I...am...alone.”
Harry slowly placed the book on the table, still reeling in silence from the events that had passed for him inside the Horcrux. Young Draco was right. He'd felt the spirit leave. This book now held only the magics that guarded its contents. It was now no more than a normal wizard's diary. It was hard to concentrate, still overwhelmed by a sense of peace and joy that had come from his time with his long dead lover. It jolted Harry from his reverie when he saw Draco's son collapse to the ground in tears.
He felt a calm he hadn't known in quite some time, a certainty and strength he hadn't fully had since the day he and his lover had parted decades ago. Harry had no fear, of intimacy, or closeness, with anyone or anything. Not anymore. In some ways, he felt like the man he should have been, and not the hollow wreckage that had been left behind in the wake of tragedy. Draco's son needed him. Now more than ever. His godson. In no uncertain terms, Draco had asked that Harry make certain that his child did not brood alone in sorrow, and Harry knew he could and would honor that wish.
With reverence befitting a treasured work of art, Harry laid the book upon the table, then turned to kneel beside the weeping boy who had curled almost into a fetal ball on his side, wracked with indescribable grief. Without even a cruel hint of hesitation or reticence, Harry pulled the young man up into a fierce hug, uttering words that flowed more easily than he could have imagined.
“No...you will never be alone. It was a message, Draco. It was a message from him to me. It was supposed to reach me. You are my godchild, Draco. As long as we live, you are my kin. You will not be alone. I love you. You...are the son of my heart. The message and its magic are gone, but what it meant...that will be with us all our days. It's alright...it's alright.”
It seemed so strange, to hold a man close to him again, even under circumstances such as these, but Harry felt oddly detached and unafraid. Once, such closeness would have frightened him, but no longer. The knot in his soul had been unraveled once and for all. He knew, beyond doubt, that he had been loved absolutely and with a fidelity that hadn't diminished across decades. His life was no cruel joke or waste, and while it had its tragedies, to be sure, they were now tempered by the knowledge of that wondrous love.
Draco's sobs had begun to subside, until the softly breathing and exhausted young man became limp and quiet in Harry's arms. Harry held him still, at perfect peace with his new role. This was no cruel echo of a lost love...this was now his child. His Draco's beloved son. His godson. The boy would never know the Horcrux's true nature, no one would. That knowledge would die with the last survivors of the war against Voldemort...but young Draco would always know that he was loved, that his presence was cherished and desired.
Several minutes later, Draco sighed and pushed himself away from Harry slowly, looking horribly embarrassed about his display. Harry interrupted before Draco could even voice an apology.
“Don't. You're going to beg my pardon. I can see it in your eyes. Don't. You have nothing, nothing to apologize for. You have given me a gift that can never be properly repaid.” Harry placed a steady hand on Draco's shoulder, looking the young man in the eyes and smiling beatifically. “I meant what I said. You carried a message that was meant to be delivered to me. HE wanted this. Your father. I am your godfather. He loved you dearly, and when he feared he wouldn't be there for you, he left a message of love. He wanted you to be cared for by someone he trusted. Your grandparents...they were too consumed by the loss of their daughter to see the child they could have given their love to...and it was their loss.”
Draco still possessed a sense of decorum, even if Harry was too inspired to care, and a whispered spell closed the door behind them. Draco leaned back against the wall and drew a deep breath, then wiped his eyes as best he could. His face was still blotchy from weeping, and he was grossly uncomfortable with his own emotionality. There were questions that begged answering, and things that no longer merited concealment. So much.
“I...I found it in the attic. The day I was...I was going to kill myself. After Yves. My grandparents weer furious. I spent the summer almost entirely alone...except for the elves. All I could think was that the next year would be worse. I wasn't even sure how to do it, but I was thinking of ways...spells or potions...anything that wouldn't hurt too much. I just wanted it...over.
I felt it. It was faint, and fluttering...just a hint. It interrupted me when I was thinking dark thoughts. I thought it felt...like warmth. Like a crackling fire during the winter. The closer I got to it, the more comfortable I was. The attic could be reached from my suite, and I found it in an old trunk. I couldn't even open it...but I stayed curled around it every night for weeks. When it was near...I felt...alive...and human...like I belonged.”
Harry had seated himself on the floor across from Draco, just letting him get the words out in his own time. It hurt to hear of his Draco's son enduring such agony, but he also knew that, just as his own poison had been drawn, now he was helping to purge the old wounds in his godson. It was necessary, and right, and long overdue.
“The puzzle of its opening taunted me. I had the elves fetch me books from the house's library. I read of wizard locks and their common attributes. I finally used my blood and my name...and it opened. You don't know...I didn't know...how much I'd hated myself until that time. That last week before school, I read it all. I learned things...about my father, about what love meant to him, about how much he loved me...and you. He'd written of the war, and Hogwarts. He wrote of cruelty, and gentleness, love and sex and family. All his thoughts, from the year before he was killed. And always...I felt what I had newly learned was...love...always near me when the book was close. It was my armor and shield. When I returned to school, I kept it with me always. Under lock and key and spell, but always where I could get to it when I needed it.
I wanted...or rather...I knew I was meant to be here, not in Durmstrang. I had to see this place. And you. He wrote of you so...passionately. It wasn't like the textbooks or histories I'd read. It was like the Muggle poet's words...like Lord Byron's. Eloquent, but full of feeling. I had to come here. This is what my life would have been, if he had lived. Instead...I came to a place where people seemed to shrink away from me in horror, or treated me like a curiosity that belonged in a museum cabinet. Even you...at first.”
“Draco, forgive me.” Harry interjected. “I couldn't have known or guessed what these months would be like. I can't...I don't even know how to describe what its been like...to live in doubt and shame for so long. I haven't...been fair to you...or to anyone...in a long time. When I say you gave me a gift...I didn't lie. For the first time in a long time...I am awake. I was broken...but it wasn't you that broke me. If anything...it's you who made me well again. Thank you.”
Draco looked sorely confused, full of disbelief and uncertainty. “You mean these things? You think of me as a son? Father's message to you...was about me?”
“Yes. Not all of it. A portion was for me. I held the book and...I KNEW...I...parts of the text are still in my memory. I would like to read it all, because I don't have your gift for memory, but I know things, things I never could have hoped to hear. I know that he loved me, even if we parted terribly. What that means to me...is incalculable. What I felt for him, then it wasn't a mistake, or a waste. I've lived with the fear that our parting meant I'd been a fool..and I know otherwise now. But I also know he wanted you to be well, and healthy, and grow to be strong and wise and good. He wanted to be there to see all your dreams come to fruition...and that was stolen from him, and that privilege has been passed to me. It would be an honor to call you my kin, and I'm grateful for it no matter how it came about.”
The young man smiled faintly, lips trembling while he looked to the floor. “It is a poor state of affairs. I might thank you for the chance to call you family. It's a cruel gift just the same. You cannot be what I would want from you...and this...this is only a step further from that. I see what he loved. I would have to be mad not to. I wish I wasn't a trouble to you...with these feelings. I cannot help them. So many things we can control in this life...but they are all small, petty things. We cannot control our hearts, even though we dearly wish to. Harry...I love you. I want to know you as no other could. I want to be the breath in your lungs, the light in your eyes...and even knowing that place belonged to another, I can't change what I feel so easily. Forgive me.”
Harry pulled Draco to him again, and Draco was too tired and too surprised to resist. He found himself slumped against Harry as they both sat upon the flagstones of the floor beside the wall, Harry's arms around him again. Draco sighed and relaxed, not really caring anymore what came of it all. This exquisite feeling of freedom and closeness was more than he had ever known, and it was nothing he wanted to make end.
The man holding him spoke softly and with a warm and pleasant chuckle or two among his words. “You truly are your father's son. He was many things, but he was never convenient. I suppose I'm used to that! Don't think that just because I can't give you what you desire, that you won't have closeness of any kind. It's not true. For a long time, I couldn't even be as close to the people I've known for decades as I would have like to have been. Everyone was kept at a distance. I...I don't think I'm like that anymore. We'll get through this, godfather and godson, whether it's easy or not. In my way, I love you too, and dearly, but it is love. The fact that you can feel that way, about anyone, is proof that you have the capacity for it in you. That ability doesn't disappear, Draco.
I don't doubt for a minute that you will find someone that suits you, someone who makes having those feelings worth the effort and the stress. Some people wait far longer than you have so far...only to find love in the strangest places and most unexpected times. Have faith. Whatever comes of it, you'll always have my support. Not to mention the family I already have...Ron, Hermione, their entire family is dear to me. You won't be rattling around in Malfoy Manor alone with a social schedule that includes all of them! The book is just a book now, but you deserve much more than a book for company, and you'll have it. It served its purpose, and now you'll have more than it ever could have given you. Don't think of it as loss when you haven't yet seen all you've gained.”
Draco sighed mightily. It was so much to have taken in...and in such a short time. Oddly, as alien as being held close was for him, it did seem to make every word he heard seem all the more true.
“I believe you. I do. It all sounds impossible, but when you say it, I can feel that it must somehow be true. He wrote of that, too. He said you made what seemed unreachable into something that could be real. I wanted to give the book to you. I knew it should have been yours. I just...I...I suppose I always sensed that when you took it, it would change everything. It might not be mine anymore. I've had it so long...and always...it gave me this....what I feel now, because of you. I didn't want to risk it. I didn't know I would feel like this. I feel like anything could happen. Like I belong somewhere. As if every terrible thing that has ever happened mattered not at all. You should read it all. I'll miss it...but perhaps I don't need it at all...if I have this.”
They talked long into the night. Far longer than was sensible, and in the morning they knew they'd pay the price of having squandered more than half of the time that should have been given over to slumber, but when Draco left for his rooms he left without the book that had been his lifeline to sanity for half a decade, and he slept as soundly as he could ever recall. Harry, too, slept an uninterrupted sleep. No spirit haunted his rest, no tantalizing vision made his waking hard to endure. All possibilities lay before him, open and attainable, and it ought to have been a welter of confusion, but he had about him the sense of confidence that, whatsoever unfolded, he could handle it all in good order, and that was more than enough.
TBC
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The Echoes Of Yesterday