Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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
- 54
- 55
- 56
Chapter 55- Quite the Screaming Row

�� Wine?�

�� No, thank
you.� Harry knew he was extremely unlikely to become drunk in Draco�s presence,
but he didn�t want to take the smallest chance. Draco�s face didn�t seem
displeased as he accepted a glass of wine from Trippy and then leaned back in
the library chair.

�� Harry had
been trying to ignore what stood on a table between their seats, but then Draco
said, �I have the Pensieve,� so he couldn�t any longer.

�� So I see.�
Harry tried to look neutrally at the Pensieve. He had the feeling he�d failed.
He had no good memories of one of them; Dumbledore�s and Snape�s had revealed
dark memories to him, and when he used them as evidence in a trial, it was
often on the behalf of a person too traumatized to speak for himself. This was
empty. That didn�t soothe Harry. He knew what kinds of memories Draco would
soon demand he put in there, and he had the feeling he knew what Draco�s
memories would concern, as well.

�� Do you
want to begin?� he asked Draco.

�� That made
Draco smile, though Harry didn�t know why. He took out his wand and held it to
his temple. �Of course,� he said. �What kinds of memories would you like to
see?�

�� Harry
thought a moment. �Something normal in the Slytherin common room,� he said.
�And- well, memories of your childhood, if you want to share them with me.� He
thought he should know the worst about Draco�s childhood, the way that Draco
would know the worst about his, but he also wanted the Slytherin common room
because he had to remind himself that Draco wasn�t always this
infuriating person who insisted on regarding torture as an amusement. Harry had
caught himself smiling often over a memory of Draco in the last few days, only
to once again remember the expression on the Dursleys� faces when Draco had tormented
them, and wonder at himself.

�� Draco
nodded, and pulled a few silvery strands of memories loose from his temple,
dropping them into the Pensieve. Harry took a deep breath, even though he knew
perfectly well that he could still breathe with his head below the surface of
the liquid, and then leaned forward and looked into them.

�� The image
wavered into being before him. Draco sat on a chair in front of a fire,
frowning at the book in his hands. By craning his neck a bit, Harry could make
out that it was an Astronomy textbook. Crabbe and Goyle played Exploding Snap
not far away, removing the cards with that care that told Harry they�d already
been burned several times that evening. A dark-haired girl he thought was
Millicent Bulstrode crouched across a chessboard from a recognizably younger
Blaise Zabini. From the looks of things, they were probably in fourth year,
maybe fifth. Fourth, Harry decided, as Draco moved a bit and a �Potter
Stinks� badge attached to his robes came into view.

�� Blaise,�
Draco muttered, �what�s the seasonal significance of Orion?�

�� Draco,�
Blaise said gently, picking up a pawn and moving it across the board, �sod
off.�

�� Millicent
grinned like a shark, and moved one of her own pieces to capture Blaise�s.
Blaise hissed beneath his breath. �That wasn�t fair,� he said. �Draco was
distracting me.�

�� The girl
shrugged. �If something like that can distract you, you deserve to
lose.�

�� Draco
peeked around his book. �She�s right, Blaise,� he said. �I could have won that
game in three moves.�

�� Says the
fellow who doesn�t know the seasonal significance of Orion.� Blaise stretched
and lay down so his head was near the fire. �I don�t want to finish the game,
Millicent. We have Potions tomorrow.�

�� You don�t
have a book anywhere near,� said a snotty voice, and an older Slytherin girl
whom Harry didn�t recognize walked around from behind Draco�s chair. She had a
prefect�s badge on her robes. �You should be studying. Professor Snape
wants the other Houses to be able to look up to Slytherin.�

�� Millicent
muttered something Harry couldn�t hear, but which sent Blaise into a coughing
fit. Draco, meanwhile, looked up at the prefect with an expression of wide-eyed
innocence that made Harry smile despite himself.

�� What was
that?� the older girl demanded.

�� She said
that Blaise needs to stop being lazy and fetch a book, of course,� Draco
interrupted, with trained politeness. �Blaise was laughing because he disdains
the idea, but of course he�s going to do it.� He arched an eyebrow at Blaise.
�Right now.�

�� With a
sigh, Blaise stood and went towards the stairs at the far end of the common
room, which presumably led to his bedroom and his trunk. Harry had to stifle
another smile, while his suspicious Slytherin voice noted that Blaise, even at
this young age, apparently gave in easily to what other people wanted of him.

�� Millicent
caught and held Draco�s eye as the prefect left. Harry couldn�t really tell if
she was contented or dissatisfied. Draco just winked at her and then went back
to reading. Crabbe and Goyle had never glanced up from their game.

�� The scene
dissolved into mist, and Harry pulled his head out, thoughtful.

�� Why did
you want to see that?�

�� Harry
looked at Draco, and decided to tell him the truth. �To remind myself that you
can be normal,� he said. �I was tempted- it was stupid, but I was tempted to
think of you as concealing all this hidden hatred and evil from me when we
argued the other day. But that�s stupid. Of course someone can be capable of
torture and still be perfectly ordinary and sensible at other times.� He licked
his lips, and wondered if he should be saying that. It was the kind of thing
that would have got him in enormous trouble at the Ministry. �I�m sorry,� he
added, to the dark expression on Draco�s face.

�� I won�t
forget you said that.�

�� To avoid
having to decipher this, Harry put his head down into the next memory.

�� It was a
succession of images, this time, rather than a single connected scene like the
one in the Slytherin common room. Draco nearly fell off a broom, and his mother
cried and held him close, but Draco stood stiffly in her embrace, clearly
wanting to escape. Draco�s parents called him into the library when they had
guests, and had their son recite a long, complicated poem, which made the
guests clap politely. Draco went shopping with his father and watched
shopkeepers defer at once to Lucius Malfoy. Stories filtered into Draco�s ears
about the �wrong sort�: the Weasleys, but also other wizarding families with
names Harry had never heard of, and of course Muggles and Muggle-lovers and
Mudbloods and Harry Potter. Narcissa pushed Draco in front of a mirror attired
with green and silver, although he looked two years too young for Hogwarts, and
whispered that of course he would be in Slytherin. Draco played with a
changing group of children, among whom Millicent, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson
were nearly always central, and learned simpler versions of the power plays his
parents were engaged in. Draco went to parties, concerts, plays, meetings, and
openings of new buildings, and learned to enjoy both the spectacle and the
currents moving underneath. Harry got used to the way his eyes flashed when he
watched money changing hands, or saw someone pause to whisper in someone else�s
ear, or tracked blushes and guessed who�d been sleeping together.

�� And Harry
understood, at last, something that had been puzzling him: why Draco had
reacted so strongly when Harry said that he mattered, and that his mistakes
during the war didn�t prove a personal weakness about him.

�� No one else
had ever said that to Draco, not in so many words. From the memories, Harry
thought the phrase had always been, �You matter because.�

�� You
matter because you�re a Malfoy. You matter because you can perform tricks. You
matter because you�re smart enough to control the situation. You matter because
you�re the heir of our legacy and you�ll follow in the traditions of our
family. You matter because I gave birth to you and rearing you is an
accomplishment I want to be proud of. You matter because of what you could do
in the future.

�� The images
had more undercurrents than just the ones Draco had noticed as a child. Harry
wondered if he had ever looked at his memories all at once, and realized how
much they�d molded him into someone at once determined to resist what other
people wanted of him and someone who valued the same things they did.

�� Granted, he
couldn�t value everything the same way they did, or he would never have
defied Narcissa. But he valued enough to despise himself for not being able to
kill, and for making a mistake that someone else could have brushed off as the
result of youthful self-confidence. He didn�t match those ingrained standards,
and he allowed the mistake to get under his skin and torment him.

�� He didn�t
deserve that. He was so far from deserving it that Harry found himself eager to
leave the memories so he could tell him so.

�� He sat
back, pushing his hair out of his eyes, and turned to Draco. The look in his
eyes made Draco blink and press back in the chair.

�� First,� said
Harry, �thank you for showing those to me. Second, you matter.�

�� Yes, you
said that already,� Draco said, already smoothing the surprise on his face
over.

�� I�m not
finished,� Harry told him. �You need to hear it again and again. You should
hear it again and again, because that�s what you deserve. You tend to focus on
your weakness, but why not focus on your strength instead? You managed to
resist the forces that tried to shape you exactly in your parents� image. Not
everyone could have. That�s something to be proud of.�

�� Draco
cocked his head. �I do like it when you compliment me,� he said, but the
lightness on the surface of his voice covered darker things under the surface,
and Harry knew it.

�� This is
more than a compliment,� Harry said. �This is the way you are. And I think
brooding on your past wrongs doesn�t help make up for- � He nearly said for
present ones, but changed his mind. �I mean, it doesn�t change that you
have strength when you want to. You could have kidnapped me and just given up at
any time, for example, but you didn�t. And you had a way of healing me in mind.
How many people would have done that?�

�� Draco�s
face was touched with both pleasure and caution, as if he thought Harry would
change his mind at any moment. �Well, not everyone is Draco Malfoy.�

�� No,� Harry
corrected. �Not everyone is Draco.�

�� He leaned
forward and made sure he was holding Draco�s eyes when he said that, and didn�t
let Draco look away for long moments. Then Draco coughed and turned the other
way, his cheeks flushing.

�� Well,� he
said. �Shall we look at your memories, Harry?� His eyes already glinted when he
glanced back. �Your worst ones of childhood with the Dursleys, please. I should
be able to judge for myself what they were like.�

�� Harry
nodded. He wasn�t going to try to trick Draco. For one thing, it wouldn�t be
fair when Draco had been so honest with him; for another, the worst Draco could
imagine was much worse than what had actually happened. �All right,� he said,
and pulled several strands out of his temple, concentrating to make sure he
recalled the times he�d been most upset and unhappy. Then he dropped them in
the Pensieve, and sat back with one eyebrow raised. �When you�re ready.�

*

�� I wonder
if he realizes that his praising me and expressing faith in me will just make
me that much more eager to hurt his enemies, Draco thought, and leaned
forward, his face passing into the liquid.

�� He
recognized the squalid Muggle house�s kitchen, where he�d enchanted the
Dursleys� glasses and cutlery to spell out a threatening message. He wrinkled
his nose, but turned around quickly when someone called, �Boy, go into the
kitchen and make breakfast this instant!�

�� Yes, Aunt
Petunia,� said an uninterested voice, and Draco heard a creak. He leaned out of
the kitchen to see what it was.

�� Harry- a
much younger Harry, though Draco found it hard to tell how old he was because
of the baggy clothes covering him- climbed out of the cupboard beneath the
stairs. Draco had underestimated just how much the sight would enrage him, even
though he�d seen the cupboard himself. He bit his lip, hard, and stepped back
as the younger Harry went into the kitchen and started cooking with the Muggle
implements.

�� He made
bacon, toast, and pancakes, poured orange juice, and sliced a grapefruit. He
put food on every plate, but a smaller amount on his own than his uncle�s,
cousin�s, or aunt�s. When they sat down to eat, Harry sat at a distance from
them, with one wary eye out. Draco recognized the expression from first-years
in Slytherin who�d attracted the attention and malice of an older student.
Harry was on his guard around his relatives.

�� Oh, no,
they never beat you, Draco thought. And doubtless you�d say that you got
something to eat, this time, even if it was smaller than the other portions.
But living tense, alert, like a wild animal- is that what you call healthy,
Harry?

�� Clean this
up right now, boy,� Vernon Dursley demanded, sitting back from the table.

�� Yes,
Uncle,� Harry said, and appeared to inhale the rest of the food on his plate.
Then he stood to carry the dishes to the counter.

�� Wait,
Vernon,� Petunia said. �We have something for the boy, first.�

�� What? Oh,
yes, of course.�

�� Harry had
turned around. Draco could see the struggle in his face. He hoped, and he hated
himself for hoping.

�� With much
solemnity, Vernon pulled a toothpick from his pocket and held it out. �Happy
birthday, boy,� he said.

�� Harry
stared dully at the toothpick for a moment.

�� Well?�
Vernon shook it at him impatiently. �Go on, take it. And remember your
manners.�

�� Thank you,
Uncle Vernon,� Harry said as he freed a hand to take the toothpick. There was a
dangerous moment when the plates he carried wavered, but he managed to balance
them and go to the sink. Draco thought the Muggles looked disappointed.

�� God, how
many birthdays did he pass like that?

�� The memory
swept into one of Harry running, hurtling across an open space away from a
younger version of his cousin and three or four other boys. Draco could hear
them laughing and yelling, though only �freak� and �Harry� and sometimes
�cousin� were audible.

�� Abruptly,
magic shimmered around Harry. Draco could feel its presence, though he doubted
the Muggles would have a clue what it was, and the next moment, Harry was gone.

�� Dudley and
his friends skidded to a halt and stared around with their mouths hanging open.
Then someone pointed, and Draco glanced up to see Harry on the roof of a nearby
building. He looked somewhere between terrified and exhilarated, at least until
Dudley howled and tore away. Then Harry winced and clung to the roof of the
building a bit more tightly. Draco could almost see him trying to come up with
excuses that would reason this away for his uncle and aunt, and knowing he
wouldn�t be able to do so.

�� The next
memory was of an enormous woman, holding a small dog, casually mentioning �bad
blood� and �drunkards� while looking significantly at Harry. Harry looked
rather put out, but he turned his back on her, in an attempt to ignore what she
was saying.

�� And then
there was a locked room with bars on the window, where Harry stared dreamily at
the sky and looked bored out of his skull. When his aunt unlocked the door, he
went down to breakfast, which was a quarter of a grapefuit. Dudley howled about
a �stupid diet,� so that was probably for Dudley�s benefit. Draco didn�t care.
The stupid Muggle boy could have eaten less food and left enough of some other
kind for Harry. Then Dudley began to blubber and wail, so Petunia took the
quarter of grapefruit from Harry�s plate and gave it to him. Harry stared at
the table and said nothing at all, though Draco could see the storm building
behind his eyes.

�� Dudley�s
chair abruptly shook hard enough under him to drop him to the floor. Petunia
leaned over and hissed, �Watch yourself,� at Harry before she went to
tend to her son. The expression of mingled fear and hatred on her face was
enough to make Draco wish she were real, not just a memory, so he could curse
her.

�� And on and
on it went. Yelling, neglect of Harry while Dudley received everything, removal
of food on the slightest pretext, the lies about his parents- Draco was sure
they were lies, not even half-truths, though he didn�t know that much about
James and Lily Potter- and sleeping in the cupboard or the dusty, bare room
appeared to make up Harry�s life.

�� Even
granted that Harry hadn�t had a reason to choose happy memories to fulfill
Draco�s request, Draco considered this beyond the pale.

�� He
surfaced, at last, and found Harry watching him expectantly. Draco gave him a
little nod. �You�re right,� he said. �I shouldn�t have tortured them.�

�� Harry�s
eyes widened, and he spoke with pleasure behind his voice. �Really?�

�� Yes,�
Draco said. �I should have killed them.�

�� The storm
swept in across Harry�s face the way it had when Petunia took his younger
self�s food away. He rose to his feet and surveyed Draco in silence. Draco
stared back. He wasn�t about to take back what he�d said.

�� But you
won�t,� Harry said. �You can�t. You said- you�re better than that,
Draco, to kill someone because you�re angry.�

�� Harry.�
Draco tried to gain control of his voice, but it wasn�t happening. It came out
as a growl. �Did you see what they did to you? Have you ever really
looked at it?�

�� Yes.�
Harry leaned forward. �I don�t know that you have.�

�� Draco just
stared at him.

�� That was
the worst they did to me,� Harry insisted. �The very worst. They called me
names, yes- but Snape did the same thing at Hogwarts. And they made me do
chores, but didn�t we do that in detentions? And I promise, Draco, they didn�t
hit or kick or beat me. Not once.�

�� Your
cousin did.�

�� Well, all
right,� said Harry. �But he beat up everybody he could catch, not just me.� He
was pacing back and forth by now. Draco supposed he must have relied on those
memories to convince Draco the Dursleys really were good, or at least not bad.
�And those were the very worst times, remember. Most of the time, it
wasn�t that bad.�

�� Tell me
something, Harry.� Draco cocked his head. �Would you have insisted that my
childhood wasn�t that bad, just because my parents didn�t hit or kick or beat
me, and sometimes were even proud to show me off?�

�� That�s
different.�

�� Tell me
how,� Draco whispered.

�� You�re
still bothered by it.� Harry turned around and scowled at him. �And there are
children still being abused; I used to meet them when I worked on cases for the
Aurors. But my childhood is over and done with. I hadn�t even thought about the
Dursleys in years. Digging it up isn�t going to do anyone any good.�

�� You really
believe it doesn�t affect you any longer?� Draco clasped his hands in front of
him to keep from reaching for his wand. God, Harry annoys me so much. It
didn�t help that Harry�s eyes, when he was angry, matched that shade of green
that had attracted Draco�s attention in the first place and aroused him like
nothing else. �When you cut yourself off from everyone after your friends died-
�

�� That
wasn�t the Dursleys� fault.� Harry tossed his head in that wild-horse way he
had. �That was mine. I did it, not them- �

�� They still
scarred you, Harry! And they deserve something for it. Something more
than to be ignored, or rescued.�

�� I think
what you did more than qualifies,� Harry snarled. One of Draco�s new
bookshelves twisted and warped like an accordion. Harry didn�t appear to notice.
�And if what you said was true, they would still have deserved justice,
not vengeance.�

�� Forgive me
for having less faith in the Ministry than you do.� Draco decided staying
seated wouldn�t calm Harry, and stood. �Would you have wanted a trial, Harry, when
the Daily Prophet and Madam Bones would have a field day with it?�

�� I didn�t
want anything! I wanted them left alone!� Harry�s eyes flashed. �And I
don�t want you going back and killing or torturing them again, either!�

�� Draco felt
his lip draw back from his teeth. �You don�t accept my word that I won�t do it
again, then? More and more, I wonder if you read that apology letter I sent you
at all, Harry.�

�� There�s
the small matter of my not trusting you anymore, Draco!�

�� I know it
hurt you. I meant it when I said I wouldn�t do it again.� Draco leaned forward.
�And now can you admit, you prat, that you�re still hurting, and what
they did to you was horrible, and that while outright torture was wrong, they
still should have been punished?�

�� They don�t-
it wasn�t that bad- �

�� Yes, it fucking
was!� Draco couldn�t remember the last time he�d been this upset. What his
mother had done to him and Harry hardly qualified, since Harry had responded to
his letter so quickly. �Admit it, you stubborn idiot, it was! I
thought you�d started telling the truth when you talked to Theresa. I thought
you were going to be honest with me. I suppose that�s yet another promise that
you feel free to break, like the original one that you�d stay with me for a
month?�

�� Harry snarled,
and the Pensieve upended and went flying. Harry flung out a hand, and the
silver liquid stopped its tumble in midair and flew back to his wand, where he
again attached the strands of memories to his temple, glaring at Draco all the
while.

�� Draco wasn�t
sorry. Apart from getting Harry�s eyes to glow like that, this argument might
make the idiot think, and Draco was all for anything that did that.

�� I went
through it,� Harry said, in a tone of voice that made it clear he didn�t want
to discuss this any more. �I survived. That�s all I can ask for from people I
got dumped on as a baby, who didn�t ask for me and who hated magic. It�s done
with. And I don�t want to talk- �

�� Then how
are we going to settle our debate on the philosophy of torture?� Draco cocked
his head again. �Strange to skirt around talking about torture when that was
the cause of the argument in the first place.�

�� Maybe we
should just stop. Not talk, not try to- �

�� The roaring
rage Draco hadn�t felt for Narcissa�s actions came up in him now. His hand
clenched around his wand so hard he really was afraid he might snap it, and
dimly, he thought, Maybe it�s true that the people you love the most are the
only ones who can really hurt you.

�� He didn�t
care about that, though. He cared about making Harry understand one very simple
thing.

�� Every time
you talk about giving this up,� he said, �every time you act as though we can�t
possibly speak to each other in a civil fashion and get past this, you drive me
mad, Harry. You�re saying that you don�t trust my intentions, that all
my work�s been wasted, that my love isn�t worthy of your respect. And you�re
giving in to the same idiocy I thought you�d worked past with Theresa, that you
don�t need human connections and you�re not worthy of being loved.�

�� I can find
human connections!� Harry yelled, and the library began to vibrate. �Maybe I
just don�t want them with you!�

�� You don�t
have a choice anymore, Harry. You lost that choice the moment you fell in love
with me.� Draco took a step forward. �Now, are you going to run away from me
again, or admit that I�m right?�

�� Harry stood
where he was, eyes nearly black, magic snapping in visible sparks around his
fingers. He gave Draco a thoroughly unpleasant smile, and said, �First, I�m
leaving so I don�t hurt you. And then, I�m going to Surrey and putting wards
around the Dursleys� house. Just in case.�

�� Draco
winced, a hollowness opening in his chest where the rage had been. �Fuck you,
Harry.�

�� Get your
mind out of the gutter, Malfoy,� Harry sniped, and Disapparated, right through
the wards around the Manor that prevented Apparition. Draco staggered back with
a hiss. The wards were connected to him at the deeper levels, and popped and
twinged and twanged.

�� Rage ran
chattering around his head. He knew that he�d caused part of the situation,
especially by breaking Harry�s trust in him.

��

�� But he was
also right, and Harry was being an utter idiot for not seeing
that, and ensuring that their reconciliation took even longer.

�� Draco
wondered darkly what defect of his genetics or temperament had made him fall in
love with a Gryffindor.

��
- 54
- 55
- 56
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Learning Life Over