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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
When Harry arrived in the common room, Ron was leaning over the chair Hermione was sitting in, whispering to her. Harry watched as she spotted him. She closed the book in her lap a little more forcefully than she normally would have done, and stood up as he approached.

“Let’s go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed.” Her voice was short.

More students began filing in through the door. Seamus was seated at a table in the corner, drawing up plans for the party. They congregated around him, each trying to get in their own ideas.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione paused after Lavendar Brown entered the room. Her face was as scarred as Bill’s after Greyback’s attack during the battle. She nodded to Hermione briefly, and turned away from Ron as she passed them.

Hermione pushed the door open and walked briskly down the hall, making Harry and Ron have to jog to catch up with her. Ron lagged a bit behind Harry, and Harry wondered whether he was thinking about Lavender.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, as he fell into step beside Hermione.

She continued her brisk pace, bushy brown hair bouncing on her shoulders as she led them down a flight of stairs.

“Somewhere we won’t be disturbed,” she answered, tone still clipped.

They passed several groups of students and a few ghosts who slowed down to point Harry out, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

Hermione came to a sudden halt when they reached the second floor and turned to check if they were alone. Harry and Ron followed suit, finding the corridor deserted.

“Come on,” Hermione instructed, and led them directly to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She entered, letting the door close behind her with a thud.

Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances and followed her inside.

Hermione stood at the sink hiding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets with her arms folded. “Open it, Harry,” she said at once.

Harry wondered why she felt they needed so much privacy but, considering her stiff posture and frown, decided not to argue.

“Open,” he hissed, a bit surprised at not having had to focus on the engraving of the snake in the tap this time. They watched the tap glow white as the sink sank into the floor, revealing the exposed length of pipe leading straight down.

Hermione jumped in first, followed by Ron and then Harry. Harry came to rest at the bottom, landing on a Cushioning Charm.

He got to his feet. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have just talked in the bathroom,” Harry began. “It’s not like…”

“Explain yourself, Harry!” Hermione interjected. “Why are you avoiding us? Why are you suddenly all about Malfoy? You know what he’s done, what he is!”

Harry felt his heart ache at the hurt expressions on his friends’ faces. He looked back up the tunnel at the hole above them. “Close,” he said in Parseltongue.

The tunnel fell into darkness.

“Lumos,” they all said together.

Harry didn’t quite know how to mend the rift he felt growing between them. He thought about how he wanted to answer Hermione’s question as he led the way to the wall guarded by the two entwined serpents. They parted as Harry approached, opening into the main chamber.

The walls were lit with dimly-burning torches that made the whole of the room glow in a greenish light, like aged copper. He walked to the end of the long room, taking a seat at the enormous feet of the statue of Slytherin.

Ron and Hermione sat on the ground facing him. They waited expectantly for him to answer Hermione’s questions.

Harry’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He swallowed nervously.

“Look,” he said at last. “I love you two. You’re the best mates a bloke could have, but now that you’re engaged … Well, even a bit before that really …” He knew he wasn’t being very coherent. He stopped to gather his thoughts, starting again after a short pause. “I just feel like I’m standing on the outside, looking in.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry held up his hand. “Let me finish,” he pleaded. “It’s like looking in at something I don’t think I’ll ever have. I never expected to survive. I told you what happened in the forest. I just don’t know how else to explain it, but for a while I felt like I belonged with them, with Sirius and Remus and the shades of my parents. Like that in-between state they were in was reality and all this …” He gestured to the room at large, “… is out of my reach. I know it’s not true. I know I’ve been given another chance, that I had a choice to stay with them or to return and I chose to come back; but I feel I left a part of myself behind.”

Harry saw that Hermione’s eyes had grown wet, but he didn’t know how else to put how he was feeling without making her cry. He was relieved to see that she and Ron no longer looked angry with him.

“Harry,” Hermione said, reaching out to give his knee a gentle squeeze. “I hear what you’re saying. I don’t quite know how to respond, or what else I can do other than listen and support you while you work it out, but … what does Malfoy have to do with any of this?”

Harry stared at his hands. Knowing they were there for him, that they were listening, was comforting, but he was still afraid of how they’d react if he came clean about everything.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” he paused and took a deep breath. “Malfoy’s been cursed. It’s like… I played my part; it’s over. Voldemort’s gone, but his memory still holds people under his power. Like he won’t ever truly be gone until we can forget about him and create a new world without being reminded of him everywhere we look. Malfoy is a constant reminder of the evil he brought to the world. Not that Malfoy is evil. It’s more like he’s the victim of that evil. He’s been cursed to only be able to speak in Parseltongue.”

He watched Ron and Hermione exchange a glance.

Hermione looked back to Harry, shocked. “Who cursed him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said miserably. “Ginny helped me figure out what had happened to him, but he wouldn’t talk to me when I asked him about it. Somebody wants to make an example of him, to see him fall into total ruin. He’s only here because of me, true; but he can’t sit his NEWTs if he can’t get through his lessons; and he can’t do that because even his handwriting is in Parseltongue. It’s like Voldemort is haunting him, trying to pull him down from beyond the grave. Malfoy is a prat, but he’s a kid. I mean, we all are really. He got pulled into all this … You didn’t see him … When Dumbledore …” Harry choked up, falling silent.

Ron was the next to speak. “All right, Harry. I hear what you’re saying. It doesn’t make me like him any more than before, but I get it. It’s the saving people thing you have. Even gits who deserve …” He stopped and backtracked. “I mean, even Malfoy. What do you expect us to do about it? What do you want from us, Harry? We’re your mates. We’re here for you.”

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, glad for the low light in the room. He took a breath, calming himself.

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Hermione asked quietly. “Is there something else that you don’t want to tell us?”

Harry let his head fall back on his shoulders, resting against the statue’s robes. He stared up at the shadows flickering on the high ceiling above him. He lifted it again slowly, and looked into Hermione’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sort of. I will tell you eventually, but I just can’t right now. I’m still figuring it out for myself.”

He turned to Ron. “You want to know what you can do for me?” he asked. “Try to look beyond your memories of the past. Forgive him, Ron, as much as you can. Let’s try to start over as if Voldemort never existed. If Malfoy digs himself another hole and turns out to be a total prat from here on out, then I’ll absolutely understand if you hate him. But …” He turned to Hermione. “You too, Hermione. Let’s try and rise above the hatred. Let’s prove to the world that we won’t be ruined by Voldemort’s evil. I promise to do whatever I can to break the curse on Malfoy, and if he hates me for it, fine. I don’t care. I’ll just be happy to see him get the chance Dumbledore wanted him to have, to get to make his own choices in life without that poison influencing him. He can do with it whatever he chooses; but at least I will have done my best.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Harry found himself being hugged tightly by Hermione. He put his arms around her too, and then Ron wrapped his arms around them both, saying: “We’re in it together. Just like always.”

~x~

That evening in the Great Hall, it felt just like old times to Harry.

He was surrounded by his friends at the Gryffindor table. Ginny was talking to him again, though he noticed there was still a trace of sadness in her eyes when she looked at him.

He tried hard not to focus on Malfoy where he was sitting on the opposite side of the room, but did manage to steal a few glances. Malfoy sat apart from the rest of the Slytherins, alone at one end of the table, and he looked miserable.

Harry turned his attention to Seamus and Hermione as they went over the plans for the upcoming party.

One of the school’s barn owls swooped in over the dinner table and dropped a package on top of Harry’s plate. The whole school seemed to notice as the post was normally delivered at breakfast.

Harry removed the note spellotaped to the brown paper wrapping.

Harry,

Do not open this package at the table. I haven’t heard from you and wondered if my git of a brother forgot to give you the package I asked him to deliver on your first day. Owl me when you get a moment.

George

Harry slipped his hand into his robes and touched the mokeskin pouch he now wore everywhere he went. He’d completely forgotten about the package Ron had handed him.

“So who’s it from, Harry?” Seamus asked, grinning. “I’ll bet it’s a secret admirer!”

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed his plate away from the table’s edge. “Laugh it up,” he said, standing up. “I’ll see you later in the common room,” he told Ron and Hermione. He gave Ginny a small wave and left, carrying the new package.

When he sat on his bed, he wondered what George could have sent him that required so much secrecy. He was glad he had chosen to find a place by himself when he finally unwrapped the smaller package first. Inside the brown paper was a Snitch, though it wasn’t the same as they used in a Quidditch game. This one was slightly smaller and silver. George had wrapped a note around it, holding down its wings.

Harry,

I hope I’m not too forward in sending this to you, but as my top investor, I wanted you to be the first to see the new range of products Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes will be offering. I don’t mean to pry into your business, but I couldn’t help but notice a certain magazine while you were packing your things to move. You know the one. All right. I admit it. I was snooping. Anyway, don’t be embarrassed, mate. Fred was as queer as my ear, though he never really talked about it much. Seemed to think Mum might be disappointed in him or something. But, before he died, we had been talking about expanding into the adult industry. That is to say, sex toys. Fred dreamed up this beauty. It’s an anal bead in the shape of a Snitch. Simply speak the incantation “Lubricus Volitum,” and insert; it will do the rest. This one is brand new so feel free to try it out and see if it tickles your fancy. Ha ha. And let me know what you think. Without Fred around I have nobody else to try my new line of Bedroom Secrets poof style.

I look forward to hearing from you,

George

Harry knew his face was beetroot red. And worse still, he was hard as a rail just reading the letter. It wasn’t that he was turned on by George, or Fred even, but the idea of tickling his prostate with a Snitch … It was pure genius.

He opened the second package and just about came in his pants. It was a wizarding magazine titled: Wonder Wizards, and the men gracing the cover, all three of them were gorgeous, naked, and hard. And the best part of it was that the pictures moved.

The door to the dormitory opened then, and Harry hastily shoved the magazine under his pillow.

Malfoy entered the room and approached Harry.

Harry’s heart was in his throat, hoping Malfoy wouldn’t notice the heat rising in his face.

Malfoy stopped a few feet from Harry’s bed and took his wand out of his pocket. He held it up in front of Harry and raised his eyebrow.

“What?” Harry asked. “You want to know why I gave it back to you?”

Malfoy nodded.

Harry’s mind was still in his trousers. He looked at the wand in Malfoy’s hands, feeling himself flush further as he remembered what he had used it for, half wishing he still had it now that he had the magazine George had sent.

“Um,” he said. “You ought to be able to defend yourself properly. I just thought that it was the right thing to do. You’re glad to have it back, aren’t you?”

Malfoy nodded again, though his expression was still sceptical, as if he couldn’t quite believe Harry had no other motive in returning the wand.

“Well then, that’s good,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him. He still held the Snitch George had sent in his hand. The wings were not as long as those on a standard-issue Snitch and he could feel them brushing his palm lazily. “Was there something else you wanted?” he asked, wanting to close his curtains and enjoy some private time with his new toy.

Malfoy pointed at the Snitch with his wand. It flew out of Harry’s hand with a nonverbal Summoning Charm, and Harry felt his protests die on his lips as he watched Malfoy look it over close up.

He knew his face had to be scarlet when Malfoy’s eyes met his, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Yeah, that’s um … Can I have it back?” He held out his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to get off the bed to retrieve it.

Malfoy shrugged and walked forwards. He placed the Snitch in Harry’s hand, their fingers brushing briefly.

Harry’s skin sang where they touched. He closed his fingers around the small ball. “Thanks,” he said, though he was sure his words had come out more breathy than he’d intended.

Malfoy turned away with a knowing smirk on his face, making Harry feel self-conscious.

Harry watched him loosen his Slytherin tie, and carry his book bag to his bed. He climbed in and closed the curtains.

Harry was fucked. His erection pressed painfully against the zip of his trousers. He wasted no time closing his own curtains and spelling them in place. He had his trousers and pants around his ankles a moment later, holding the small ball with its wings flattened at the entrance to his body.

He thought briefly of fetching the magazine from beneath his pillow, but the imprint of Malfoy’s smirk played through his mind behind his closed eyelids.

He imagined Malfoy behind his curtains, holding the wand Harry had used as a dildo, and using it on himself.

He reached for his wand, holding the Snitch in position, shuddering as he pictured Malfoy fucking himself with his wand just feet away.

“Lubricus Volitum,” he whispered, and pushed the ball inside. His eyes rolled back in his head as his hips came off the bed with the first brushes of the Snitch’s wings against his prostate.

He didn’t make it back to the common room that night.
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Let Me Be Your Voice