Chapter Forty-One of 'I Give You a Wondrous Mirror'- Halved
Thank you again for all the reviews!
The story is not far from its end now. Chapter 44 should be the Epilogue. And this chapter resolves the life-debts and marriage vows conflict (though some details will need to wait for the next two chapters to be settled completely, so if you’re confused, don’t worry; it will probably be explained).
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-One-Halved
“She wants to do what?”
Draco could not blame Harry for being wary; he would be, too, if Julia hadn’t explained it to him so well. But she had, and that meant he felt confident in proposing the plan to Harry.
“Your wife won’t be hurt,” he said gently, running one hand up and down Harry’s arm. Harry still lay in his own bed, with bandages crisscrossing his wounds to be sure that they wouldn’t break open again. Draco had performed healing spells until his lips were numb yesterday and brewed a few of the simpler healing potions for Harry, but it would still be several days until he was able to walk comfortably. “And of course we won’t do this until your injuries are healed and you’re able to stand on your own.”
“That’s-not it.” Harry’s hands played with his blankets. “I trust you, Draco, and I know that you would never put me in danger deliberately. But you heard Hermione. This situation isn’t one that’s in the history books, or in wizarding lore at all. How can we be sure that it will resolve the way your ancestress says it will?”
Draco gave him a quick kiss. “Do you really want to live out the rest of our lives like this?” he asked when he heard Harry make a noise of discomfort as the itching started. “Unable to touch each other for longer than a few moments, at least with any desire? Condemned to meet in a dream-world and have sex with each other only there? Or do you want something more? Do you want that life that you saw in your dreams, where we’re full partners, able to play with each other and love each other to the fullest extent?”
Harry closed his eyes. He was sitting with his hands folded in his lap, now, because refraining from touching Draco was necessary in order to calm down the marriage vows. But the lines of tension around his eyes told Draco that was at least thinking about it.
Draco played with his hair, and waited. Harry blew out his breath in a shaky exhalation and opened his eyes at last. “And you think that Ginny would come to the Manor if we asked her to?” he asked.
Draco nodded at once. “Why wouldn’t she? She’s probably dying to know what’s going on.” He heard a snide tone creep into his voice, and tried to suppress it. He and Harry had owled the Blood Reparations Department with the truth yesterday, but had forced Granger and her people to meet them at the gates of the Manor to collect Pensieve memories, the captives, and Andromeda’s body, rather than intrude. Their official excuse had been that the children didn’t need to see strangers right now, which was certainly true. Granger had said she understood. On the other hand, she had looked increasingly anxious throughout the interviews because she couldn’t intrude and control the situation. Ginny had to be frantic, too, Draco thought. She had already shown that she had no sense of good timing when she showed up on the battlefield outside the Tonks house to “persuade” Harry; why should she be any happier about being shut out now? She might even think that her place was at her husband’s side, if she was really as penitent as she had tried to act.
“What about Marian?” Harry asked, with no voice behind the question. “You told me that she sounded more reasonable.”
“She does,” Draco admitted. “Her experiences serving under Andromeda changed her.” He had talked with his wife a bit yesterday evening, when he wanted to fill in missing gaps in her story. She had explained that, as she had joined Andromeda out of longing to touch Scorpius again, so her longing to protect him had brought her back to rationality; she would rather have seen him safe with Draco than in danger because of her own political affiliations. Her comments about blood betraying blood had convinced Draco she spoke the truth. Marian had come dangerously near to betraying her son, in light of her own principles. She was anxious to make up for that.
“But you-“ Harry seemed to be nerving himself up for some large question, but Draco still didn’t expect it when it came. “You have no desire to get back together with her and give Scorpius a normal family and a mum?”
Draco stretched his arms around Harry and locked them carefully into place, so that neither his elbows nor his hands were resting on any wounds. He let Harry feel the possessive tightness of that hold, not enough, by itself, to trigger the marriage vows. And he whispered the resulting words into Harry’s ear, making him shiver.
“She can never be to me what she was. I haven’t trusted her since the day she tried to take Scorpius and run. And though I do believe she’s changed her mind and would cooperate with me as much as possible in the raising of him, why should I settle for a passionless marriage when I could have you?” He paused, then added, “Are you having second thoughts, Harry?”
Harry twisted around in his embrace and glared up at him. “Of course not! But then, I don’t think I’ll ever trust Ginny again. It sounds as if you could trust Marian.”
“Miracles of reconciliation and healing are possible,” Draco said. “But I’ll just take the miracle I already have, thank you.”
Harry rested his head against Draco’s chest. Draco spent a moment stroking his hair, letting him make up his mind once more.
And then Harry nodded slightly. “Let’s do it.”
*
“That’s important?” Draco eyed the large, round mirror Julia was rolling into place against the wall of the alcove where they had, until a few hours ago, kept Marian. He was virtually certain that the mirror was not one he had seen about the Manor in the last few years. Probably the ancestors had found it in some ancient corridor or corner and polished it to a high gloss again. He took an instinctive step back when his own reflection came into view.
“Of course. When you told me about the life-debts manifesting at first through reflective surfaces, I knew we would need this.” Julia strode forwards a few steps, frowning at the mirror, and then grasped it and rolled it another quarter-turn. She finally turned to face him, her eyes and smile matched in intimidation factor. “Did you not think it significant that mirrors played so large a part in the visions connecting you and your lover?”
“I didn’t know why,” Draco admitted with a small shrug. “And once we had accumulated five matching scars, it seemed we could save each other’s lives and the debts would take hold without needing mirrors.”
“But for this, the final transition, you do need one.” Julia swayed her head back and forth, facing her own reflection. “From what you have told me, not even being in the same room as your wives might work. The visions-the tunnels-that open and attempt to take you through badly need a destination, a place to reach to. And this shall provide one.”
“I still don’t understand why,” Draco complained. “If what Harry and I have is rare even in the history of life-debts, the connection to mirrors is unheard of.”
“It should not be so strange.” Julia gave him a sharp grin over her shoulder. “You have heard those old stories, the old superstitions, that our reflections in mirrors live in alternate, separate worlds?”
“But they are only superstitions,” Draco said, bewildered. “One of the first things the Founders of Hogwarts did was experiment with mirror magic. They concluded that it was much more limited and less powerful than generally supposed.”
“The Founders of Hogwarts did not have multiple life-debts binding them.” Julia paused wistfully for a moment. “Though I grant it would have been amusing if they had. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin would have had to take a different turn then.”
“But you weren’t alive when they were.”
“Of course not. But I did pay more attention to the history textbooks I had than any of you modern children seem to have.” There was scorn in Julia’s face that made Draco flush, for all that he knew she was dead and would return to her crypts the moment the matter of the life-debts was successfully settled. “And one thing I remember about history is that it may be made again. Just because this has never happened before does not mean that it would never happen.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Draco muttered. Julia had explained in broad, vague terms how the “transition” and “fulfillment” of the life-debts was to work, but not enough to satisfy him. But since it was the only solution he and Harry had been offered so far, Draco was wise enough to clasp it.
“Do not look so dejected, nephew.” Julia chucked him under the chin as she passed him, which was rather like being nuzzled tenderly by a sword. “Soon enough I will solve your problem, and then I will be gone from your daily life.” She paused in the doorway of the alcove, glancing back. “And do try not to get yourself involved in another spectacular mess quite so soon, hmmm? I am not used to being called back more than once in a generation.”
*
Harry swept Al into his arms and held him close to his chest for a moment. Al clung to his robes and accepted a kiss, but squirmed to get down when Scorpius called his name across the room.
Harry let him go with a small smile. Whilst his children were still not easy with what had happened, and liked to have him in sight a majority of the time-even Teddy had taken to wandering casually into the rooms where Harry sat for a while-they had recovered more quickly than he dared hope. Having Scorpius for a friend helped Al along. Narcissa’s constant attentions to Lily kept his baby daughter happy and cooing.
And Teddy and James had helped each other. Evidently neither of them wanted to look too scared in front of the adults, but looking scared in front of each other, or at least spending a lot of time together and with the house-elves, was acceptable. Teddy was cheerfully challenging James to a puzzle contest right now, figuring out one of the toys the house-elves had deposited in front of them, and Al and Scorpius were sitting down next to a set of wooden horses that moved by themselves.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped carefully out of the room, wincing a little. The skin on his legs and hips was still tender, not that he would admit that to Draco. He wanted to be out of bed-not even having his lover fussing over him made that experience pleasant for him-and he wanted to confront Ginny and get this over with.
Draco had dropped some of the wards around the Manor, with his ancestors extending magical senses through the gaps and watching for the approach of any enemy. He had promised that if the pain got too bad for Harry to endure, or if something unexpected went wrong, any of them would be able to Apparate away to safety. And there were house-elves standing by with orders to take the children to safety, as well.
This was the best chance they would ever have to end the problems, to free Harry from his marriage vows and please the life-debts. Harry knew he would regret not taking it forever if he let it pass by.
But still, he was frightened.
He worked through breathing exercises as he walked down the corridors, extending his arms over his head and wringing them in circles behind his back, both to calm himself down and test the range of movement. His wand, which Andromeda had hidden in one of the chests Narcissa had brought along from her childhood home, rested comfortably in the waist of his robes, where he could get at it in an instant. He could feel his muscles moving without effort, without strain. He was healed, and rested.
He would have to do this.
And he must not show his fear. If he appeared nervous in front of Ginny, she wouldn’t trust him enough to come further into the Manor, and it was imperative that she do so.
His wife was waiting at the front gates of the Manor. The moment they vanished, she ran through and flung herself into Harry’s arms. He stood there for a moment, holding her, and soothingly patted her shoulder. He tried to imagine himself reconciling with her, as he had envisioned Draco perhaps reconciling with Marian.
Nothing. He was not as angry at her as he had been, but there was nothing there to hang onto or build on, either. He pitied his younger self, who had engaged in the strict marriage vows under the firm conviction that nothing could happen to change his mind or his love. Massive changes happened all the time.
Harry did manage to smile at Ginny when she lifted her head and murmured, “I missed you, Harry. So much.”
“Thank you for coming,” he said. Since he couldn’t return her sentiments, he thought the best thing was to avoid any and all declarations. “Draco wants to meet and talk to us in the company of his wife, Marian.” He wouldn’t have been able to explain what Julia Malfoy hoped to accomplish even if he thought it wise to try, but he wouldn’t fool Ginny about whom they were going to meet. “If you’ll come?”
Ginny frowned and pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. “We can’t have any time alone to talk, first?”
“We can have it, if you still want it, after we meet Draco and Marian,” Harry promised. A thrill of mingled fear and excitement raced up his back. If Julia is right. If the marriage vows and the life-debts both have to exist, then we’ll have the time for a talk. And we’ll need it, Ginny and I. At least, in a sense, it’ll be Ginny and I who need it.
“What’s going to happen?” Ginny was staring at him, and her eyes were as piercing and strong as they had ever been since the day Harry walked up to the wizard who would marry them and saw her waiting for him, clad in a shining gown and a garland of flowers.
“I don’t know exactly,” Harry said, which was only the truth.
She stared at him again, but, after a moment, nodded, and kissed him-Harry tried not to grimace, as in truth he felt nothing-and let him lead her in.
*
Draco could feel sweat prickling under his collar as he waited for Harry in front of the enormous mirror with Marian at his side. He could sense green and golden shadows stirring in the glass. He refused to look at it directly, though.
Marian had likewise refused-to take part in this at all, she said, unless she could touch and hold Scorpius for an hour that morning. Draco had reluctantly permitted it, with house-elves and Malfoy ancestors watching her the entire time to be sure that she didn’t try to Apparate with his son. Marian had not. She had come back from the encounter quiet, cold, and pale, though, and she kept shooting Draco looks of intense dislike.
He could live with that. If what Julia proposed was true, he would be happy to, after this morning.
In a sense.
With part of himself.
Harry’s footsteps sounded down the corridor beyond the alcove, accompanied by the almost soundless footfalls of his Weasley. And Draco saw the shadows in the mirror begin to churn anxiously, rearing and falling like waves in a storm-lashed sea, while swirls of white-gold magic, barely visible, drifted about him like snowflakes.
When he comes into the room, Julia had said, he must endure. Whatever happens. If you wish this to end.
Seeing his lover about to put his life in danger displeased Draco to no end.
But if Julia was right, there would be life beyond.
*
Harry stepped into the alcove, with Ginny slightly behind him. She had wanted to take his arm, but he had managed to detach her politely halfway down the corridor, without making it obvious he was doing so. If Julia was right, no one should be touching him when the life-debts began to fulfill themselves.
If Julia was right.
Despite the defeat of Voldemort, despite his recent fear that Andromeda would hurt his children, Harry thought that stepping into the room where Draco and Marian waited was still the bravest thing he had ever done.
The moment he stepped in, the life-debt magic pounced.
The air flared white-gold and turned uncomfortably hot. Harry put an arm over his eyes, but didn’t struggle as he had in the past, when the magic tried to pull him down the tunnels and he didn’t want to go. This time, he wanted to go. He relaxed his breathing as much as possible, even when he heard Ginny shriek, even when he felt the pull begin as the marriage vows rose to the challenge with a snarl and began to drag on him like red-hot wires sunk in his flesh.
Julia had explained, much to Draco’s displeasure, that Harry’s enduring the greater pain was inevitable, because the life-debts bound him as strongly as they did Draco, and his marriage vows were much stricter. Draco would feel some tugging as the life-debts attempted to get him away from Marian.
Harry would be halved.
And it was necessary, and it made sense, even, Julia said, given the mirrors that had stirred with shadows of another life and the visions that had tried to reach out to them and the dreams as clear as memories of another past.
But Harry hadn’t fully understood the magical theory. He had to trust that he was doing the right thing, as Ginny’s cries grew angrier and more fearful, as his own fear of leaving Draco alone and his children without a father mounted-
And as the pain increased, piling on top of itself until he was barely conscious, barely sane.
*
Draco could feel his hands growing slippery with blood as his nails dug into his palms. He couldn’t look down and attempt to pry his fingers out of the skin, though. He couldn’t withdraw his gaze from Harry.
Harry had fallen to his knees, his hands clasped around his head, his breath traveling outwards in long, low moans more heartbreaking than any scream. Around him, reducing him nearly to a silhouette because of their brilliancy, two kinds of magic raged, wrestling each other, coils of dark rusty red-brown piling on top of living wreaths of white-gold. And each kind of light had sunk firmly into Harry and was tugging.
He had to let them tug.
Julia had said so.
Harry had said he could bear it.
Draco banished, as best as he could, the vision of his lover battered and bleeding when Andromeda had tortured him in front of their children. This was not like that. This was for the best. And Harry was still there, not dead, though the biggest sign of it was the way he writhed as the magic spat and played around him like a lightning storm.
Draco felt a hand catch his elbow, and he turned his head, barely making out Marian’s face in the madness. She shouted at him, her words already dim and dull in his ears, “What is happening?”
He shook his head and shrugged off her hand. It would be disastrous if someone touched Harry while he made the transition, but it wouldn’t be much better if someone was touching him.
He looked back at the crouching figure, a solid black now, hardly visible, the light making Draco’s eyes blink and water and long to close.
But he would not-could not-look away, not as long as Harry was crouching there.
*
Harry wailed. Or he thought he did; it seemed increasingly hard to get any breath into his body that would permit him to wail. His hands were clawing into his hair. His skin felt as if it were being scalded off his bones. He had no bones left, in fact; they were melting down to useless slag, like the ground in front of the Tonks house when the dragons came.
But he could do this. He wanted to give himself to Draco. And that, Julia had told him, was utterly necessary. If he had not been willing to pay the price and fulfill the life-debts, they could never have become equal in power to the marriage vows, no matter how many of them he and Draco accumulated.
Equal. Equal. They’re equal. They both have to come true. And tearing me apart would ensure that neither of them does.
That solid sliver of logic and magical theory was all he had to cling to as the pain grew worse, and then worse again, and then twice as worse again, and soon he was repeating equal, equal, equal, in his head without remembering what the word meant.
And then-
He heard the glass of the mirror rip itself apart, splintering and shattering. He heard the white-gold magic boiling around him make a snarling, triumphant sound from the left side of his body. The marriage vows uttered the same sound, at the exact same moment, from the right side of his body.
And in front of him, around him, across him, on every side, the same tunnel that had several times tried to bear him and Draco to another world opened.
Harry gave a sob of relief, and spread his arms wide. The pain had ceased abruptly. But he still felt a shudder down to his bones, rocketing through him and down and up, and then spreading out in a flood of ripples to every corner of the room.
He turned his head.
He found himself looking into his own eyes.
Already the two of them crouched on either side of a perpetually widening breach. One half of the image, his, was filled with the white-gold dance of life-debt magic, the other half with the dusty red-brown of the marriage vows. Harry watched with wonder and awe so keen it felt like numbness as the magic, in the ferocity of its obedience to its own laws, created two worlds, two Harry Potters, two men-one of whom, him, could become Draco’s partner in a world where the life-debts were fulfilled and the marriage vows had never existed, and the other of whom, the second Harry, could remain Ginny’s husband in a world where the life-debts had no power and the marriage vows were intact.
The second Harry Potter turned away and clutched at his Ginny, who had come rushing up beside him. Harry turned away, as well, but only to watch the spreading of the process, the doubling.
He was drifting in the midst of a white-gold sea, which every moment changed colors and became more solid as it duplicated the original world, weaving an alternative universe where the dreams were real, where the visions he and Draco had seen were real-the world behind the mirror. It had been only a reflection for years, Julia had explained, but it was always trying to become true. If he and Draco had not been so stubborn, and if Harry’s marriage vows had not been so strict, it would have snatched them through the gate and come into being years ago. But that would have meant kidnapping them from their own world and making them into the Harry and Draco of the visions. Only an equal, opposing magic could have forced the creation of two separate realities instead.
And the people he and Draco had imagined when the visions tried to snatch them away had delayed the creation of that world, too. He had not been able to imagine living in another place without his children, without his friends, and Draco had likewise relied on images of the people he loved to keep himself safely at home. The life-debt magic had wanted to make them happy, so it would have to bring along everyone they loved into the other world in order to ensure that they were so.
Now, with the magic expanding around him and the power growing softer and softer the farther it traveled, Harry wondered, in his exhaustion, how much would have changed. Of course, he knew what his and Draco’s past for the last ten years was like. The dreams shimmered in his head, solid as memories-their reality, now. There had been a reason that the life-debt magic was so very careful to ensure they remembered the dreams. In this world, he and Draco had been lovers for a decade, he was an Auror, they had had an argument that resulted in their traveling to northern South America instead of the Caribbean or Peru-
And they had had their children in a distinctly different way, which Harry didn’t know about yet, but their children were still there, as Al proved when he came dashing into the room a moment later, pursued by James, who was pursued by Teddy.
Harry opened his arms to embrace them at the same moment as Draco hugged him hard from behind.
And then the tears came.
*
Draco stood shakily with one arm around Harry’s shoulders and the other holding Scorpius, who had toddled in in the company of a house-elf and demanded to hug his Daddy. Narcissa stood in the doorway, holding Harry’s baby daughter, frowning at them both quizzically.
And behind her was Julia.
Though it would necessitate all kinds of explanations to Narcissa later, Draco spoke to his ancestress first. “Did it work?”
“Look behind you,” said Julia, with a predator’s smile.
Draco turned. The large mirror hung on the wall there, as in the room in the-the other world-but it did not reflect them. Instead, it reflected that other world, with the second Harry standing securely in his wife’s arms. The second Draco stood facing Marian, now and then casting glances at Harry and shaking his head, as if he had awakened from a dream.
Another world, where the marriage vows were satisfied. Safely shut behind glass, where it could never come back to haunt them.
Draco buried his face half in Harry’s shoulder and half in Scorpius’s hair, and thought, I’ll take this one.
Chapter 42.