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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.

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The Echoes Of Yesterday...by Samayel
Chapter 42: The Passage Of Years

In the wake of their tumultuous discovery, Draco and Harry, as well as the rest of Hogwarts, slowly found themselves approaching normalcy. Draco excelled at studies that were no longer hindered by a distraught state of mind, and Harry found that mentoring his godchild was nowhere as difficult as he had once imagined.
John Prewett found himself soon relieved of his most frequent patients, although Draco, somewhat sheepishly at first, still occasionally dropped by in the early mornings for tea and pleasantries, having discovered that he genuinely liked and sometimes missed the company of the affable gentleman that had pushed him into facing his own thoughts. It was of great relief to John that his potionmaking skills hadn't been rusty, and that a book with a lingering message had been at the root of Harry's discomforting dreams. Harry had given a thorough account of the events, leaving out only the precise nature of the book's enchantment, assuring John that it wasn't a personal issue that called for secrecy, but a promise leftover from the war. Certain that Harry was sound in body and in mind, John simply let the matter rest, contented that the troubled people he'd worried over for months were finally able enough to manage their lives without his interference.
Ron Weasley hailed Harry's return to a full schedule with the relief one might have more expected from a newly freed prisoner who had just seen the sky for the first time in years. Being able to get himself home each night and spend his evening surrounded by his wife and children was the only aim he'd had for weeks, and having what he considered his proper life back was an enormous boost to his mood...so much so that when the occasional visit by the young Lord Malfoy for chess matches became commonplace, he didn't mind being just a bit late getting home now and again. It still boggled his mind that the son of his old rival was becoming decent company in his eyes, but it was impossible to despise anyone who played a brilliant match and could even beat him one time out of every three. Not to mention that speaking of their old school days with an avid and appreciative listener made it somewhat easier to relax...even on the subject of the boy's father. Speaking ill of the dead went against the grain, and speaking ill of a person's dead father in front of them was something Ron's mother would have blanched to see...and so if there was a muffled undertone of disapproval all the while, there was at least a note of respect and a grudging admission that Harry, in the end, had known best what the elder Draco had been like in life.
Minerva McGonagall found herself with sufficiently glowing remarks from instructors about Draco's growing comfort with people (and refreshingly improved respect for instructors) that her missives to the Ministry yielded grudging results. In due time the name Malfoy was struck from the list of 'Observed and Suspect Persons', and that was that. Barring any further explosions or outrageous conduct, the Ministry considered the matter at a close.
The holidays arrived at last, and Draco braced himself for isolation at the Malfoy estate, until Harry tendered an offer for assisting him in the reconstruction of Grimmauld Place, as well as regular visits to the Weasley's and Ron and Hermione's home. It was an offer he couldn't have refused and had no intention of missing out on...even though, as it turned out, Harry had very Muggle-ish notions about redecoration, most of which involved doing all of the work 'the old fashioned way'...which was to say non-magically!
Draco could see why Harry hadn't been keen on living in the place, even without harsh memories and bittersweet ones. It was in appalling condition by any standard, and oppressively gloomy. It took days just to clean rooms and move furniture around enough to start painting. Being unfamiliar with the craft of housepainting, neither of them were especially skilled at preventing mishaps and having to clean up errors...at least until Draco took some initiative and bent the rules in true Malfoy fashion, not using magic to paint the walls, but using it discretely to prevent mishaps. Harry ferociously disapproved and considered it a violation of his original plans...for about two days...when he grudgingly asked for the innovated Charms being used and how to cast them himself.
In the chaos and mess and dust, much was unearthed and laid aside for storage or cleaning, but only one thing gave either of them a moment's worry. In the drawer of an old dresser, shoved beneath some old clothes that hadn't seen daylight in decades, Draco found a collection of Muggle photographs, several of which might have been considered scandalous had they ever found their way into the hands of people other than himself or Harry.
They were of his father and Harry, and the lighting was largely terrible, and they'd been made with some sort of camera that Harry told him granted instant development of the film, whatever that meant. In the few images Draco had ever seen of his father, he had only ever seen a young man in tailored clothes, looking serious and sober, quiet and intensely thoughtful. Only in these had he ever seen a teenaged boy in an undershirt that was too large for him, with mussed hair, sticking his tongue out at the person who was taking the picture (which had been Harry). The person in the picture had been almost eighteen years of age, madly in love, and had just escaped a life of torture and deprivation that had cost him the lives of his parents. You could see both experiences in him at once, a little hollow eyed and gaunt, but hopeful, and in the waifish slenderness of an already tall and lean young man, but with an excitement and visible comfort in his new surroundings even while the Mark was visible on his arm. The pictures showed the two young men kissing while staring sidelong into camera, or breaking up with laughter when they were supposed to be posing, and generally behaving like two awkward and giddy seventeen year olds in love.
Harry hadn't been upset at all when told that Draco had found them, and promptly placed them where they could be added to an album at some later date when the rooms were properly finished. He'd flipped through them one by one, grinning the entire while, talking about the week that Draco the Elder had first come to Grimmauld Place, the weeks afterward that had led to them being close, their first kiss, and then telling the story behind each picture without a note of horror or regret.
The monotony of cleaning and painting and repair was broken up by regular visits to and from the Weasley clan, complete with regular shipments of delicious treats baked by Gram Weasley, as Mrs. Molly Weasley was called by her growing brood of grandchildren. Certain things were made clear to Draco in a very short time: his discomfort with strangers would not in any way protect him against handshakes, backpats and hugs from various Weasleys, and his adoption by Harry as a godchild meant that he now had a rather large and boisterous extended family that instantly absorbed him as if he'd been there all along and had only been away on an errand that happened to take eighteen years.
This regular association also included a blessed and welcome measure of time to shamelessly monopolize the attention of Hermione Granger-Weasley, burning through discussions on esoteric tracts concerning the nature of magic, its origins and limitations, and its as yet undiscovered potential uses. Before the holidays had passed, Draco had already realized that his ultimate desire was to pursue research and become a scholar in the magical world, and his pedigree as a research wizard would be starting with an apprenticeship beside the witch whose work he admired most.
The remainder of the year passed, with Draco gaining the accreditation he had desired, and Harry handing the reins of his professorship to a gregarious and competent Auror who had already been on the edge of retirement and considered teaching a fine thing to undertake. Despite the protests of students who mourned the loss of a teacher they generally idolized, Harry returned to his projects in Grimmauld Place with renewed vigor and undivided attention.
Draco organized Malfoy manor to his liking, at least enough to make proper use of certain rooms for research and study, and then rather nervously asked if Harry would set aside rooms for him in Grimmauld Place. Harry gladly earmarked the small suite in which Draco had stayed during the holidays as Draco's own, and saw to refitting it with Draco's help. The filth and gloom was slowly being replaced by clean white walls and powerful lights, polished furnishings and tasteful décor, and room by room the battle against decay and atrophy was being won, all while Draco balanced his journeys to Ron and Hermione's for advanced theory lessons (and savage chess matches).
When Harry had finally finished all other rooms, having transformed the house into a spacious, bright and airy environment of class and comfort, he built for himself a proper den and study, and in its quiet confines he began to write. Having regular access to a certain young person who could recollect precise details even from very obscure tomes at a moment's notice made the work go considerably faster than he'd hoped, and he laid the groundwork for a new First Year Defense Against The Dark Arts text with great relish, although the book would take quite some time to properly complete.
His schedule had other things in it as well, now that he felt a certain comfort with idea of public appearances, most notably lectures on the topic of Defensive Magic. There were charitable events, speaking tours, and social gatherings that he sometimes accepted invites to...although he rarely enjoyed being pestered for war tales, and greatly preferred to shift the topic to education and Hogwarts. Between all of that and routine visits to the Weasley Burrow or to Ron and Hermione's, his weeks were rarely dull.
But all was not entirely peaceful and right. As one year passed into another, and then into several, Harry clearly made no effort to start a new romantic life. Hermione in particular bedeviled him on the subject, and he would only smile mildly and shrug, saying that it just wasn't that important to him. Repeated attempts to engineer accidental meetings between Harry and prospective suitors were always met with politeness, but proved ultimately futile.
Draco fared only a little better, periodically taking chances on intimacy with the rare fellow intellectual that shared his sexuality, but his inexperience and temperament made these affairs rocky things that usually ended in quiet and amicable separation. On very rare occasions, when he had imbibed enough alcohol to loosen his tongue and only Hermione was present, he would blurt out that he still felt something for Harry, and that he couldn't quite bring himself to commit to another, but didn't dare trouble Harry with it anymore...and on those occasions Hermione would do the motherly thing and let him ramble about it until it was out of his system and he could drift off to bed. It bothered her immensely, that neither of the two had yet found someone that suited them, and while she felt strongly that Harry had been right to reject Draco's youthful pining in as gentle a way as possible, she sometimes wondered if it might have been better for them somehow as a couple, as horrific and awkward as the proposition sounded.
That was the state of things for many long years, with Draco gaining fame for his publishings after years of research and study beside Hermione, ultimately breaking away on his own to lecture periodically and to publish even more frequently than she did. His experiments were far larger in scope than her own, and while she worked in theoreticals, Draco worked in advancing what could be tested adequately and proved to work. His modest income from books and speaking was unneeded, since the Malfoy fortune covered all needs he could even contemplate, far into the future, so at Harry's suggestion Draco endowed the earnings into a charitable trust and issued grants to research for witches and wizards who could meet the criteria. It was a well received gesture, but he wasn't especially interested in fame.
For the most part, the press and Wizarding society considered the new Lord Malfoy an enigma. He worked largely in private, but his experiments were ultimately published and well known by all. He was aloof, respected in intellectual circles, but distant from society at large. He was semi-famous for his acquaintance and friendship with the even better well known war heroes Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, as well the inexplicable choice by the somewhat reclusive Harry Potter to formally adopt Draco as his godchild and heir. It was the source of wild speculation, including crude hints that the ex Death Eater and former Lord Malfoy, Draco the Elder, had been slain by Aurors at some point in the past, and that Harry Potter was expiating some guilt over his dead enemy's orphaned child. A single massive lawsuit from the Malfoy Estate, threatening a call for damages that would have bankrupted the publications responsible and left their owners panhandling in Knockturn Alley, was sufficient to end public speculation by the press, and that was that.
Near his twenty-fifth year of age, Draco Malfoy made a series of profound and heartfelt apologies to his family and friends, insisting that his research had born fruit and that the tests he intended to undertake were exceedingly delicate. He closed up the Malfoy Estate and warded it against all, working week after week with no contact save with house elves, only to periodically emerge, haggard but cheerful, promising that he was very pleased with how things had gone. Of the nature of the research he would tell nothing. He only assured them that he was accomplishing something he could be very proud of someday, something that he couldn't possibly announce until he'd proven it could work. His pride demanded that he at least prove conclusively that his calculations were correct, and that spilling the details and then failing would be far worse than a bit of wasted effort alone.
Faced with his sense of certainty and assured by him that all was well, no one pushed harder for more details, and Draco passed the months with only occasional sightings at the Burrow, Hermione and Ron's, or Grimmauld Place. His research had generally gone well over the years, and with two books and dozens of papers to his name, few doubted that he really did need the momentary privacy. No one could have imagined the temerity of his actions, or conceived of the momentous thing he was to attempt.
A single cryptic note, delivered by owls to multiple addresses, came to the attention of his dearest friends one evening. Each owl arrived within seconds of the same time, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as John and Marie Prewett read the same missive, each in their own homes, each wondering what the message could have meant.
My dearest friends,
Although I have cherished each moment spent you all, I have spent a life in pursuit of knowledge, and that knowledge has ultimately given me a wild hope that I dare to make come to life. If any of you had known what I dared to attempt, you might likely have stopped me. I send this with the warning that it is too late, for what I have begun, you cannot stop. The matter will be decided and this course cannot be changed by any of you
I love you all so very much, and every sorrow I have endured has been tempered by the love and kindness you have shown me. I cannot express my gratitude for all that has been given to me, but when I learned that more might be possible, not just for me, but for those whom I care for most, with a cost to none but myself (and even that a small one) I could not be swayed from testing until what seemed possible became what certainly could be done.
I regret nothing, and if I am right, and what I believe can be accomplished can be done, then no one will be brought sorrow by my actions. In truth, no one will ever understand them, even myself, and even these letters will be irrelevant. I write them in the event that I fail, in which case the fault will lie with me, and you who matter most to me should know that I perhaps reached for something that was beyond even my grasp.
If, in the end, I cause you a sense of loss, then for that and that alone do I apologize to you. Please know that this was something only I could do, and that it was truly what I desired. If I have passed, then I have passed thinking of all of you, and wanting naught but happiness for you all.
With love, your friend, Draco, Lord Malfoy
Harry arrived at Malfoy Manor only minutes ahead of the others. Hermione and Ron, who had promptly called for Ron's parents to watch the children, came to find the wards shredded by Harry's power, only to be guided by house elves through the manor to the research chamber where Harry was tearing apart notebooks and frantically casting spells to no avail.
No sign of Draco Malfoy could be found, in flesh or in spirit, and no spell by any of them revealed any sign of existence among the living or the dead. It was Hermione who made sense of the encoded notebooks, written in the shorthand of professional scholars and indecipherable to laymen. She gasped, turning white as a sheet, and whispered to her oldest friends a single shocked statement.
“The research...Harry...Ron...all of these notes...they're about...time.”

TBC
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The Echoes Of Yesterday