Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Let Me Be Your Voice	By : Queenie_Mab Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8661 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter, created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers: Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter List
- 7
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He sat with Ron and Hermione under the beech tree looking out at the lake. He’d just finished telling them about his conversation with McGonagall and Dumbledore’s portrait.

Ron looked at him, not impressed, and Hermione hadn’t said a word. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her back to the tree.

“That’s mental, Harry,” Ron told him. “How could you want to help him when you know full well he stood by while that bitch tortured Hermione?”

Harry felt his defences go up. “Well, what was he supposed to have done, Ron? Honestly. It’s not like he had any say in what was happening. If he’d spoken against his father, he would probably have been chucked into the cellar with the rest of us.”

Ron glared at Harry. “He’s a fucking Death Eater, Harry!” he spat through gritted teeth. “I can’t even pretend to understand why you spoke for him at his trial. If you would have let justice take its course, he’d be rotting in Azkaban with his father and the rest of them and we’d be shot of him.”

Harry closed his eyes, frustrated. He leaned his head back on his shoulders and opened his eyes again, looking up at the sky. “I dunno,” he said at last. “I guess there’s just something about nearly dying to save the world that makes me see a bigger picture.”

Ron and Hermione were quiet. Harry could tell they were not impressed by his reasoning; they were still bitter about the torture Hermione had suffered in Malfoy’s house. They climbed to their feet, brushing the dirt off their robes.

“We’ll see you later, mate,” Ron said, turning away.

Hermione hesitated, then spoke, her voice trembling. “I can’t talk about this right now. I just can’t.”

They left.

He listened until he could no longer hear their footsteps and stared out at the lake, thinking. He knew they were justified in their feelings, but he couldn’t help but see that Malfoy was changing. He’d been changing ever since the night Dumbledore was killed. It had taken Harry a while to reach the realisation that Malfoy had been in too deep and wondered, if he had had a family in the same situation, how much differently he would have acted.

At the same time, he was hard pressed to deny or confront his growing attraction to Malfoy. He’d been nervous enough when he’d sought out dates with girls, but not knowing if Malfoy was even gay made the prospect of pursuing him that much more formidable.

His introspection was interrupted when Ginny’s voice spoke. “Hello, Harry.”

She plopped down in front of the tree, taking the space Hermione had vacated.

Harry looked at her guiltily. They’d been avoiding each other ever since their conversation a month previously, and Harry missed her, but felt ashamed at how he’d led her on in the past.

“What’s new?” he asked, feeling inadequate, but there wasn’t anything else he could think to say.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Ginny began, “I’m sorry if I made you feel like…”

“No, Gin,” Harry interrupted. “You had every right to feel hurt and angry. I’m sorry for the way I acted. I think we’re both just young and still trying to figure out how to deal with…” He gestured with his hand, trying to find the words to express what he was trying to say. “…all this stuff,” he finished.

She shrugged, a half-smile playing on her lips. “So, it’s Malfoy, is it?” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“What?” Harry asked, feeling a tension build in his muscles.

“I’m not blind,” Ginny went on. “I see how you are around him. It’s like nobody else exists for you when he’s in the room.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He looked at his hands fiddling with a fallen leaf in his lap.

“Harry,” Ginny said, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she went on. “I miss talking to you. I’ve had some time to get my head on straight, and I — I just want you to know that I don’t blame you. I was hurt, yes, but I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to be in your position. Talk to me.”

Harry was silent for a while, but looking at Ginny’s earnest expression, her willingness to move forwards and be friends made his heart swell with affection. “Thanks, Gin,” he said. “I’m still not quite ready to, you know, tell people about myself, but thank you for not hating me.”

She smiled, and turned to watch the squid raise a tentacle and wave it lazily in the autumn breeze. The sun hung low in the sky and the light glistened off its suction cups.

“You know, Dumbledore thinks Malfoy might have been cursed,” Harry told her. He needed to confide in a friend about Malfoy, but considering Ron and Hermione were not willing to talk to him about it, at least Ginny would listen. “You know how he doesn’t talk in front of people? I don’t think I’ve seen him speak a word since before his trial. I heard him shouting last night, but when I went to see what the matter was, he stopped talking again.”

Ginny looked thoughtful. “Well, I haven’t really seen much of him. He doesn’t seem to go many places outside of the eighth-year tower and lessons. I’ve seen him in the library, but people don’t talk much in there anyway, so I haven’t noticed. Does Dumbledore have any idea of who might have cursed him?”

Harry shrugged. “Who wouldn’t want to curse him?” he asked darkly. “I feel like I’m the only one who seems to think he deserves a second chance. But there’s more.”

Ginny nodded, waiting for him to go on.

“McGonagall told me that he hasn’t been handing in his assignments and if it doesn’t change soon, he’ll have to go back to Azkaban for being in contempt of the court order.”

“That is odd,” Ginny replied. “What is he doing in the library if it isn’t working on his homework?”

Harry shrugged. He put his hand in his pocket to get his wand, and the notes he had stolen earlier came out with it. He read them, but they were simply notes on the potion they’d been brewing and held no other clues to the Malfoy mystery. He set the parchment aside and fiddled with his wand absently.

Ginny and he sat in silence as the sun sank lower in the sky and shadows deepened on the ground. She picked up the parchment and looked at it.

“What is this?” she asked, intrigue clear in her tone of voice.

“Oh, just some of Malfoy’s potions notes. I thought it might have been something else when I nicked it.”

“You can read this?” she asked, disbelieving.

Harry looked at her curiously. “Yes, why? Is there something odd about it?”

“Harry, this isn’t English,” she said. “It’s not much more than scribbles. Honestly it looks like a child’s first attempt at using a quill.”

Harry took the parchment from her and looked at it again. He could read the notes perfectly. He raised his eyebrows at her, wondering if she was having him on.

Her face changed suddenly as if she’d been hit with a sudden understanding. “It’s Parseltongue,” she said at last. “That’s got to be it. I had no idea it could even be written down. If Malfoy has been cursed like you say, it’s likely that whoever cursed him made it so he could only communicate in Parseltongue. That’s why you are the only one who can understand him and probably why he’s not talking in front of people.”

Harry’s eyes widened, the gravity of the realisation hitting him hard. “Blimey,” he said, his mind hit suddenly with an influx of thoughts and ideas. “You’re right. That has to be it.” He jumped to his feet and put the note back in his pocket. “I’m going to go and talk to him. If I can just convince him to let me help, maybe we can find out who cursed him and set it right. Thanks, Gin.”

He looked at her. She smiled meekly, still sitting beneath the tree.

“Aren’t you coming back up to the castle?” he asked, anxious to confront Malfoy.

“No. You go on, Harry. I’m just going to sit here for a while longer. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He felt a slight pull of guilt at leaving her there, but his curiosity about Malfoy overrode his instinct to make sure Ginny was all right. But he hesitated nonetheless.

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said, as if she could read his thoughts. “Really.”

He gave her a small wave and raced back across the grounds, heading to the large front doors of the castle.

~x~

He pushed open the door to the common room. It was empty. He rushed up the stairs to the door of his and Malfoy’s dormitory and pushed it open.

Malfoy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by piles of books and scrolls. He looked up as Harry entered, picked up his wand and the scrolls rolled themselves up and flew into Malfoy’s bookbag. The expression on his face seemed to say: What is it now?

Harry pulled the note from his pocket and waved it. “I know it’s Parseltongue that you’re speaking. I figured it out.”

With a flick of his wand, Malfoy summoned the note out of Harry’s hand. He ripped it up, glaring at Harry, his face tinged pink.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” Harry pressed him. “You know I can understand you! I could, you know, help and stuff.” He pointed at Malfoy’s bookbag. “Is that your homework? I could translate it for you so you can get through your lessons.”

Malfoy shook his head furiously, his eyes practically bulging with anger. He sprang off the bed, his wand aimed at Harry as if he were engaging him in a duel.

Harry watched Malfoy’s face as he stared at the ministry-issued wand, then let his eyes travel to the ceiling as if to say: Why the fuck does shit always happen to me? He closed his eyes and dropped his wand. It rolled under his bed.

He turned around, his shoulders slumping.

Harry hated to see him giving up. “Wait. Let me show you I don’t have any ill intentions.” His mind raced, thinking quickly. “I’ll — I’ll give you back your wand.”

Malfoy’s head snapped straight at Harry’s words. He turned on the spot, fury in his eyes and held out his hand impatiently.

Harry rushed to his trunk and flung it open, searching. He found the wand tucked in its protective sleeve, feeling his face grow warm at the memory of what he had used it for the last time he’d held it. He crossed the room and put it in Malfoy’s open palm, hoping he wouldn’t use Prior Incantato to discover the uses Harry had put it to.

“There. Now we’re even,” Harry said, watching Malfoy draw the wand from its sleeve, his eyes drawn to the ring Malfoy wore on his right hand. He remembered seeing it on Lucius Malfoy’s hand in his second year. It bore the Malfoy family crest.

Before he could even form another thought, he found himself dangling from the ceiling by his ankle, his robes covering his face and glasses sliding off his nose. “What the…?” he shouted. He heard Malfoy sniggering, though it sounded more amused than cruel. Harry started to laugh as well.

The door to the dormitory opened then and Harry could hear Ron chatting with Dean and Neville, stopping to take in what he was seeing.

“Malfoy! You slimy snake! Put him down!” Ron’s voice thundered.

Harry struggled to move his robes out of his face so he could see. He pointed his wand at his own feet and released himself, landing with a thud on the floor.

“Wait!” he yelled, jumping to his feet and straightening his glasses. Ron and Malfoy had their wands pointed at each other.

Neville and Dean stood in the doorway, watching too.

“Ron!” Harry yelled, stepping in front of his wand. “Don’t. It was a joke. Please stop.”

Ron continued to glower at Malfoy over Harry’s shoulder.

“Put your wand down,” Harry pleaded. He called over his shoulder to Malfoy: “You too.”

He could hear Malfoy’s curtains close behind him, and knew he had retreated, but Ron turned his angry glare towards Harry.

He lowered his wand. “What’s got into you, Harry? Why are you always protecting him?” he shouted.

“If you’d just stop a minute and listen,” Harry shouted back. “I told you to wait; it was a joke.”

Ron looked disgusted. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, and left the room. Neville and Dean stepped aside to let him pass.

“I’ve got to go after him,” Harry said. “Nev, make sure nobody tries anything with Malfoy, would you?”

Neville shrugged. “All right, Harry,” he said, and Harry chased after Ron. He needed to get this confrontation over and done with.
- 7
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- 9
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Let Me Be Your Voice