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The Curse	By : Samaelthekind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling's Harry Potter series and its associated works and characters are not mine, and I do not profit from their use!

Chapter List
- 1-The Curse
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 6
- 7
The Curse (Part 7 of 7) by Samayel

The days had blurred into weeks...and then into months. The proud creature that Draco had been had melted away in the aftermath of that terrible day...and what was left was a broken mess. Sometimes he did not rise for most of a day, save to use a bathroom, and other times he paced fretfully but without purpose. Mostly he sat, and always he drank. The Malfoy cellars were deep and well stocked...and he'd rarely put more than a slight dent in them...but now the bottles had to be collected by the occasional visiting house elf dropping off fresh stock.

Something very important had cracked and shattered inside him...something that had sustained his belief in himself. In the absence of that towering pride all that was left was a very confused and lonely young man with no one to voice his thoughts to but the walls. He drank a lot...often until he had visions and could weep to someone who wasn't there, or until he raved at empty air and swung his fists at ghosts. After awhile even that stopped, and Draco just drifted from chair to bed to chair again, eating a bite here and there when the elves left something out.

There had been a pile of paperwork at the manor...heaps of unread things and documents clamoring for signatures...and he'd just shuffled away and Apparated back to his flat. He didn't want to be troubled with them anymore. Thinking was more than he could bear at the best of times anymore. Soon after he no longer Apparated anywhere. He liked it where he was...in the quiet and the dark. He could weep a little if he were drunk enough...and that was enough to let some of it out...to keep him alive long enough to wake and do it all again.

He hadn't even the desire for sex anymore. He'd always been a riotously lusty fellow...eager to find new sport. The thought of searching for someone...sickened him now. Everything he had ever done...it turned his stomach to sour acid. Everything he'd been...was a thorough shame in the eyes of hindsight. All of it, all that time, all that passion...wasted. None of it mattered now. He'd gathered together the implements and toys and gear that had been a part of his former sex life...and burned the box of them into a cluster of cinders right on the carpet. The black and charred patch was still there, unattended after weeks.

He couldn't have attracted anyone at this point anyway. He'd seen himself in the mirror...red eyed, haunted and lank-haired, unkempt, rumpled and stained. Even when he washed it was more like numb ritual, and sometimes he didn't wash for days.

The visions came more often when he'd sometimes forget to drink, delirious and too weak to leave his seat. Beautiful visions, like memories that should have been, brought to life just to taunt him, always out of reach, untouchable and just beyond his grasp. Always it was Harry, naked and defiant, with an expression of contempt on his face. He could almost hear it whispered. "How could you?" He would sometimes find the strength to crawl toward the vision, pleading for forgiveness, and always he would tumble against empty air and collapse onto the floor a drunken mess.

One night his eyes fluttered open when he heard that voice from his dreams. "Wake up. Draco?"

Unlike usual, Dream Harry was fully clothed. His hair was shorter and dark, no longer a flop of greasy violet. The face had no contempt anywhere to be found, just...a whiff of sadness...and a measure of pity. He wasn't sallow or hollow eyed...he was fit and clean. Draco blinked owlishly in the faint light. At the moment he lacked the strength to stand. He just stared, muttered something about cruel visions, and flopped forward to beg forgiveness at the feet of his Dream...and promptly passed back out.

At some point, Draco drifted back into consciousness, unsure of whether it was morning or evening, and not really caring. Then he smelled strong tea being brewed...and other smells that didn't quite belong in his routine. Awareness came back to him. He was in bed...properly for once. He wasn't clothed...and that wasn't usual anymore either.

He could smell sausages cooking...and eggs...and the sounds of food sizzling and utensils clinking were trickling in from the kitchen. He wasn't hung over at all...and that was very off as well, because he knew from painful experience that wine hangovers were particularly nasty. He was also aware of what he didn't smell...and that was himself. He was clean, not reeking of wine or sweat.

He rolled carefully out of the bed and found a clean robe that he couldn't recall having placed beside the nightstand. His slippers were waiting by the bed as well. He looked in the mirror on the door and saw that he was surprisingly intact, neither looking as wretched as he seemed to recall, nor as intoxicated as he was sure he ought to look. The bedroom was clean and organized for the first time in weeks as well.

For a moment he didn't dare to open the door. He had the terrible feeling that he was trapped, and that this would be very awkward and uncomfortable. He could lock the door and hide, but that didn't seem like a proper way to behave toward someone who had done so much.

He pulled the door open and sidled out cautiously...just peering around the corner at first. It was Harry. He looked completely in his element, despite the strange panorama of Harry Potter elbow deep in making breakfast. He remembered the vision of Harry...except it hadn't been a vision. He was clean and healthy and had the look of someone who was alert and well taken care of in every respect. The piercings and dye were gone, and so were the punk clothes. He was wearing a somewhat baggy pair of clean shorts, well made sandals, a white undershirt and a short sleeved casual shirt besides. He was wearing his glasses again...which was a change...he'd been wearing contacts for who only knew how long.

Harry must have known Draco was staring, but the shorter man said nothing at all. He just kept finishing the food and setting up cups and saucers for tea. The apartment had been cleaned thoroughly, everything neat and properly placed, every wine stain gone...and even the burnt patch on the carpet had disappeared.

Draco wasn't sure what to do...didn't know what to say. It occurred to him that he might have gone insane...and this was his heaven...or that he might have died...and this could be his hell, with something terrible waiting to unfold. He was still a little light headed, even though he felt surprisingly well...so he walked to his favorite chair and sat down quietly. Whatever happened would happen when it was ready. If he was mad he'd never know, if he was damned he'd know too soon.

It was surreal, until Harry's voice cut through the fog of Draco's bemusement and asked, "How do you take your tea? I never asked."

Draco stared helplessly. He swallowed and tried to speak. He knew he should answer properly, but that wasn't what he wanted to say.

"Is this...is this real?"

Harry's face flickered impatience, then calm. "Yeah. I'm here. Do you want me to go?"

"No." Draco's voice was quieter, meeker than he remembered it ever being. "You can stay."

"I sent you letters. You didn't answer." It was said matter of factly, but not without a hint of irritation.

"I...I didn't take any mail...for awhile." It sounded feeble as an excuse.

"You didn't answer. How do you take your tea?"

"One sugar. Are you angry? About...what I did to you?"

"No. I don't think I should be. At least...not much. I just...why didn't you come around? I asked about you...in the hospital. No one knew anything. Hermione wouldn't talk. She kept saying she had to honor your wishes. Think about that. Hermione saying she wanted to honor your wishes. It fairly boggles the fucking mind."

"I wanted to be alone. Why do you...why are you here?"

"Here's your tea. And your plate. Why don't you focus on eating? You need to get your strength up. The spells I put on you won't last forever. If you haven't stabilized by the time they wear off, you'll feel damned rough. It might take awhile to properly answer that question, anyway."

Draco quietly took his utensils and began to sip at his tea and start his breakfast. He couldn't bring himself to meet Harry's eyes. It was easier just to hear him speak than it was to feel that intense gaze boring into him.

"You just left. I remember bits and pieces of things. I had a lot of therapy...not just healing. The mental kind. It took a long time. I wasn't used to being around people in a normal way. I remembered things though. Not in any order, just kind of jumbled up and popping out at random. I was about two months into my therapy. One day...I remembered something you said to me...that night. It was clear as day. About not lying to me...about wanting me to live long enough to know that...and after that things got...bad. It was pushed out of my head.

Then there were all the things Hermione wouldn't talk about. I remembered a lot of being here, and the things...the things we did. She said it was a curse...and that she broke it...and when I'd asked about you she got silent. She wouldn't discuss it. I started putting it together on my own. The last bit came back to me and I figured it out. I tried to send you letters, but you didn't answer. It was you, wasn't it? You broke the curse...not her. You sit there and nod yes, but you won't say anything. You didn't ask for anything...you just left. You didn't even come by to get thanked. I just want to know why."

Draco put down the fork, eggs and all...swallowed his tea and tried not to let his hand shake when he placed the cup to the saucer. He'd nodded yes, but talking only made this worse. All he could do was stare at the plate in front of him.

"Please don't think ill of me. I used to...I knew who I was. I knew what I was. Whoever I was then...is dead...and probably ought to be. I'm sorry. If you came looking for the person who tortured you,hurt you...that person is gone. I've done...appalling things...to you...to everyone I've ever been even the least bit close to at all. This...mess...is all that's left of who I used to be. I'm not worth your time."

Draco realized that he was shaking and reflexively folded his hands to make it less visible. He didn't want to look up...mostly because he could feel the heat of tears forming. He hadn't cried since school...until these past few months. Now he seemed to have no control over himself at all. The food would have been delicious...if he was capable of thinking of food as anything but a mouthful of ashes.

"I don't think ill of you. Not because I liked any of what you did. It was something I suppose I needed...now that I can think clearly and look back. It kept me alive...but I hated every minute of it. I may be queer...but I wouldn't have picked that pretty extreme version of a lifestyle if I'd had any choice.

But...what you did...about the curse...that wasn't something a terrible person would do. You strutted around like you were Ivan the Terrible and Attila the Hun all rolled into one...but someone that evil...would never have done what you did. I'm not stupid. Don't insult me by pretending I don't grasp what was going on. The Draco I thought I knew wouldn't live like this...wouldn't care what he thought of himself or what anyone else thought of him, either."

Draco put his face into his hands and barked out a strangled sob before he could speak. "You don't know me! I'm not like you! I gave you your life back...you should just go!" It was all he could get out before his shoulders started to convulse and he bent over, shuddering, spilling the tea and breakfast in the process.

Somewhere in the midst of it he realized his head was being held while he wept...and he didn't really care. It was nice. The only pleasant thing he could recall anyone doing for him in years and years. Just holding onto him while his entire body was wracked with tightness, rebelling against letting out tears that seemed to well up from some bottomless place inside.

When his breath stopped coming in short gasps he muttered what he'd wanted to say.

"I'm so sorry. I think...that I am in love...with you. My entire life...I've wasted it. I threw it all away to prove I was something powerful and strong. I failed. I've seen true strength. I don't have that in me. Not like you. I did it all wrong. After what I've done...I think I belong away...from people...from you. Away from everything. I lost either way. If I kept you as you were...you died. If I got you cured...I'd be the last thing you need. Please...forgive me. You shouldn't be here...dealing with this...with me."

"That's not really your call. I came because I wanted to." Harry had pulled away and was kneeling in front of him, cleaning up what he could of the mess of food, dishes and cutlery. His words had an offhanded, nervously casual tone that made a lie out of his seeming calm.

"I didn't plan on finding you like this...I admit that. I just kind of thought I'd say thanks properly. Maybe invite you for a bite to eat somewhere. I'm not much for drinks right now...maybe some other decade, eh? Nice to think that you consider me strong for spending the last few years drunk, stoned and whoring myself out as a bondage toy. Pretty much redefines the concept of strong, doesn't it?"

Harry drifted into the kitchen and disposed of the mess. "You want strong...try cleaning up after you and getting this place and you looking civilized again. Seriously...I was the one who was supposed to be that kind of mess. So you aren't who you thought you were? Why kick yourself forever? What is it you want to be? Go be that, as much as you can, and stick with it as long as it takes. I have a long way to go too, you know? I can't sleep right most nights...I get nervous in crowds or around strangers...and some of my memories make me sick. I just have to keep going long enough to write some new memories. I know it'll get easier someday."

Draco felt a faint familiar glower of his old irritation before it faded away. It was kind of energizing. "You make it sound easier than you know it is. I'm tired of being the uncomfortable one." His senses weren't dead. He could feel the nervous air in Harry's responses...and the scent of it made him come just a little more alive. "My brain isn't so addled that I can't spot someone dissembling from a mile away. I think it's a gesture of respect that I'd be this honest with anyone. If it was anyone but you...but it is you. You're hiding something. Something you don't want to talk about. Did I offend you? Saying that I love you? I had dreams about you since that night. I've missed your...even just the illusion of your presence.

"Maybe it is pathetic, but when I had to work to keep you from leaving...it was more effort than I've ever put forward for anyone...or anything. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable...but you made me feel things I've never felt before. I felt...good. Contented. Like I had what I wanted and I didn't need anything else. I just...the way I've lived my life...the way we met...I wish I could erase all that, but I can't. Wishing is for idiots...and you've made me that kind of idiot."

Harry flushed furiously, scowling and staring into the sink. "Okay. Therapist said honesty and being candid about my feelings was healthy. Here goes. You...insufferable ass! YES...I didn't just come here to thank you and leave. Prick! Maybe I'm stupid from all the drugs I did...but...I wondered if the person who could do that much for my sake...for no reward...not even thanks...well...what if they weren't like I thought...or if they needed...what if YOU needed help? I thought I'd, you know, just spend some time talking now and then. Make sure you were alright. I mean...shouldn't the person who saved your life be considered a friend? I didn't think I'd be picking you off the floor and spelling you clean and into decent shape just to have a chat! Or cleaning up the place...or making you breakfast! Ingrate ass!"

Draco felt the first ghost of a smile on his lips...it was the best feeling he'd had in months. The sound of Harry's voice, cross with him and snarky, made his heart leap in his chest. He rose from the chair slowly and sidled toward the kitchen counter until it was all that was between him and Harry...who looked somewhere between angry and thoroughly embarrassed. Draco couldn't keep the smirk from forming while his heart buoyed.

"Music to my ears, Potter! Insult me more! C'mon! Admit it! You have some feelings of your own, don't you? What's the matter? Life on the outside world going hard, difficult to make new friends, thinking about the guy who saved your life even though he was a prat to you? Been months since you've had a decent shagging? Or..."

The slap that hit his face stung mightily, mostly because it was perfectly placed and this time coming from a healthy and sober person. Draco could feel his long sluggish blood leaping back into action, glands on fire and entire being thrumming with life. They stood only separated by the couple feet of fine wood, staring at one another, Harry furious and defiant, Draco smirking and suddenly feeling surprisingly like himself...and yet somehow not. Somehow...more. More...in control. In control of himself. In control of his emotions and actions. Harry obviously wasn't perfect. He wasn't a bastion of calm perfection. He was just...alive...human...and beautiful in his wrath.

"I had that coming." Draco lightly rubbed his face where it was reddening.

"Shut up." Harry smoldered, still tensed to strike again, quivering with pent up anger.

Draco leaned in slowly, finally able to easily meet Harry's gaze, and breathed out the words slowly. "Then give me something to do besides talk."

Harry's reserve melted almost instantly, and suddenly warm lips were pressed against Draco's, and a soft tongue was seeking ingress hungrily...the flicker of a small steel ball slithering across own tongue made Draco suddenly gasp...and he felt the throaty chuckle from the man he was kissing. Hands were in his hair when they parted and Harry whispered, "What...I kept a few mementos. I'm not a total fucking prude."

Draco smiled one of the only entirely genuine smiles he could recall. His life had always been a prolonged act, always keeping his cards close to his vest like an old time gambler. Letting all pretense slide away was an exquisite pleasure that was almost like pain. Even robed he felt utterly naked. "No...never that. What do we do now, Harry? I want you. Not ashamed of that. What do you want?"

Harry blushed...which was shocking enough given his level of experience. The answer came in stammered bits. "You wanted the truth...I...I was a virgin when I was cursed. I never had time to fool around or date properly after I'd figured out what I wanted. Then it was...you know...drifting...drugs...the rest. I just...met some guy...and he was...rough, insistent...and I remember suddenly feeling better. Like it took the pain away more effectively than the drugs could. Not 'good'...but not as bad. Every part of it was wrong...and horrible. I knew it, too...but it was such a relief that I didn't care. My first time was...necessary...it wasn't something I wanted to do or meant to do. I...I just thought...if you could do something that decent...and I already know you're gay...rrr...fuck! This is hard to say. I've never had...pleasure...from...that. I don't want pain...I want to feel good...without drugs or booze or anything...just feel...close. It would be my real 'first time'."

"And you trust me not to hurt you? After...what we've done? After what I did? You know what I've been. I liked hurting you. I took pleasure from it. You'd trust me for this?" Draco was incredulous...and feeling the creeping strain of holding back sudden happiness, as well as the first flicker of once faded sexual longing.

Harry had stalked around the counter and managed to nervously slip a hand onto Draco's bare chest, dark fingers pressed against paler flesh, expressing a confidence that Draco could tell was mostly bravado, hiding a nervousness that made the gesture all the more meaningful. "Sure. You had my life in your hands...and you gave it back to me. There isn't anyone I trust more. I wasn't going to ask...at least until we'd had some time to hang out...but you wanted to know, right? Now you know. So what are you going to do about it?"

A pale hand slipped over the darker one, holding it pressed close to Draco's heart. "There's a catch to this, Harry. You want someone to walk you back into life. I want you. You might think that's enough. I'm not that different. I haven't changed that much. I'm selfish...and greedy...and jealous. I don't share with others what I want for my own. If you're looking for a roll in the hay to make you feel alive again...before strolling off to find the rest of your life...I'm not it. It's too much to ask, but I'm asking anyway. Be mine. Figure this out with me, however long it takes, but don't be here and then be gone. Foul bastard I might be, but I'm not signing on for anything less."

Green eyes burned upward at gray. "Idiot. What...are you trying to make me say it? I wouldn't even have asked if I didn't mean to try. I just thought this would, you know, take longer. I'm...kind of a mess...still, but at least that makes two of us. I don't know if it'll work out. I'm not promising anything but this...I'm right here, right now. Nowhere else. The rest is in your hands."

Somewhere between the kisses that followed and sunset, a pact was made. It wasn't a promise of perfection to come, but a solemn oath to be patient with imperfection...and try, again and again as often as necessary, to make something work where nothing ought to have been. When the sun rose again they were still intertwined, flirting with absolute exhaustion.

Draco had discovered, perversely, that seeing a lover's satisfaction in his arms was as heady a thrill as any diversion he'd ever entertained before. He also discovered that Harry had kept most of the piercings below his neck! Harry had lived a lifetime without the pleasure of a lover...and in Draco he had found someone chiefly interested in pleasing him as much as possible...which took considerable endurance. After years without even the slightest possible indulgence, Harry was hungry to make up for lost time and it showed in his nervous, almost desperate neediness. Draco savored the one privilege he'd most desired...seeing Harry respond sexually, not with relief or jaded disinterest...but with frenzied intensity and naked appetite.

They were both of them out of their element...frightened of what they didn't know and couldn't predict...but they were determined...and that counted for a lot. There were arguments and hard words, bruised feelings and egos in the days that followed, but the promise kept them coming back and trying again and again. The London flat soon became the epicenter of a Wizarding media frenzy...owing largely to Harry's sudden return to the world...and the rumors that he had taken up with Draco Malfoy only made it worse. When even taking a stroll together became impossible, Draco closed his flat and returned to the manor, and Harry gave the press two fingers and followed his boyfriend without comment. In due time the press finally moved on to new sport, relegating the beleaguered couple to the back pages and gossip columns, and life went on, although the Malfoy house elves never quite recovered from their apoplectic fits brought on by serving a Potter at the Malfoy table...along with frequent visitors from various houses that would never have graced the Malfoy manor with their presence in years gone by.

The master bedroom was their cozy haven until nearly afternoon most days...and it was on one of those days, with the sun shining warmly through an enormous window and making them bask in its comfort like enormous cats, that Harry, still curled against Draco with his head lying on his lover's chest, blurted out something with an air of finality.

"You know it isn't about saving my life, right? It isn't gratitude. It's been long enough...I'm sure of it. I just love you. I like the way you touch me...I like the way you smile when I'm around. I love the way you feel inside of me...the way you shudder when you come. I love the way you tease me and keep me on edge until I just lose control and come all over myself...and the fact that we're both into doing totally indecent things with each other in places that probably make your ancestors spin in their graves. I love feeling that I'm attractive to you...knowing that you look at me and like what you see. I love hearing you talk...when you aren't being an ass! I love sleeping beside you and waking up knowing you're here and won't go anywhere. I love all of it. I wanted better memories...and I have them now...and you're in all of them. I love you."

And guileless at last, drenched in sunlight and lazily stroking his boyfriend's hair, Draco kissed Harry softly for no other reason than to enjoy that simple act, and answered with the same three words. There had been a time when pride dictated his reserve, commanded his distance from others...and that pride was dead and buried. A new pride had risen to take its place, far more satisfying than any he had ever known. His restlessness was gone and forgotten, his contentment complete. He loved and was loved in kind, pleased and was pleased in turn, cared and was cared for equally...and if that wasn't something to be proud of, then what was?

FIN.
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The Curse