Welcome Back (H/D, R)
This was written for hd_remix, and is a remix of
dm_p's A Beautiful Lie
Title: Welcome Back
Author: sesheta_66
Betas: alaana_fair and melmoe1
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: M (original), R (remix)
Warnings: Angst. Not a happy fic.
Summary: (original) - Harry never says anything, but Draco knows. Draco knows he lies awake in bed at night, thinking about his life. (remix) - The story is retold from Harry's point of view, as the memories of his past haunt him and take over his mind, preventing sleep, preventing rational thought.
Word Count: 3180
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. The awesome and original fanfiction story belongs to dm_p. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author's notes: The remix for this is twofold. It tells the story from another character's point of view, and carries on to finish one year after the original. Not DH compliant. All characters are over the age of 18.
I know that I'm disturbing Draco, preventing him from getting rest, so I lie here, pretending to sleep. I can feel him watching me, always watching. I know he worries, so I don't have the heart to tell him about everything that's going on in my head. So much, too much. Faces, voices, those that I've lost, those that hurt me, those that I hurt. Sometimes I can't stop the tears from falling, but I try. And when I feel Draco's hand on my own, comforting me, I relax, knowing that we have each other.
Eventually, sleep claims Draco and I get up to think without his eyes watching me. Sometimes I sleep, when my body finally wins over my mind, but it's never for long. The voices and the faces invade my dreams just as surely as they invade my waking thoughts. I awake frightened, shaking, unable and unwilling to try sleeping again.
I need to ask Draco something, but I'm not sure how. "Draco, do you ever ... " I begin as I watch him in the bath. But I can't finish, can't find the words. I watch his beautiful form, so perfect, so ... ethereal, and I wish I could be more like that. "Want to be different?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, before I can truly process what it is I mean to say.
Draco looks at me with confusion. "Different how?" he asks, almost hesitantly. He doesn't understand. I need to get through to him, but the thoughts in my head are so jumbled. I don't know if I can piece together the words to make him see. So tired ... always so tired. I struggle to say what I think I mean. "I ... like ... " God, it's so frustrating! "Like ... I just ... sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to just let go of the truth. If I would have never gotten my Hogwarts letter, never even known about magic. I wouldn't have had to ... " I don't say the rest of the words, because they're too painful. But they echo in my head just the same. I wouldn't have had to watch so many friends die ... watch so many young witches and wizards choose sides in a losing battle, forced to give up their youth and innocence, for what? I wouldn't have had to hurt others, and ... I wouldn't have had to kill.
So much needless suffering, so much pain. And it continues. I see the pain in Draco's eyes at my words, just before he submerges himself in the water. I take that as my cue to leave, and I take my usual place in our bed, to await his steady breathing so I may get up again.
My dreams come more frequently now. I hear the voices and see the faces before me always. On those rare occasions when I manage to drift off for a few minutes, the visions are painful. They're always the same. Draco leaving me. Draco looking at me with hatred and pain before he walks out of my life forever, and I am left alone - alone with the voices. I do anything I can to avoid sleep now - it hurts far too much.
When I'm awake, I need to be sure Draco doesn't leave me - I couldn't take it if he did. He is my world - the only thing that matters any more. Doesn't he know that? I need to show him, so I never leave him alone. This way, he won't be able to leave, because he loves me too, and he knows that nobody will ever love him like I do. Nobody else. "Nothing else," I explain, closing out the outside world, wrapping us in a cloak of love. "Nothing else but me and you." I think Draco understands ... a little.
Friends drop by to see us, but I don't need them. I have Draco. He knows that I love him, that he's my world now. Friends write, and Draco urges me to read the letters, perhaps write back. Doesn't he understand? I show him what he means to me, how important his love is to me. I burn the letters. "There is nothing else," I tell him. "Nothing else exists."
As he walks to the window, I'm afraid. He reaches out to let the outside world in and I'm overcome with a feeling of foreboding. I grab his arm and whisper to him, "This is perfect. Perfect."
I've made a decision. It's the perfect solution. We will take all of our memories, except those of us and put them into a Pensieve. We can rid ourselves of all the pain, and we can move on with each other. Only each other.
Now that I know what to do, I'm excited about our future. Draco comes out of the shower looking positively delicious, towel hanging low on his hips, and I almost lose track of what I was doing, looking up at him with a goofy grin.
"What are you doing?" he asks, bringing me back to the task at hand.
"It's time," I answer, reaching for the Pensieve. "Time to forget about the past. Time to wash away what happened last and mix our memories together so that they aren't yours and mine anymore, but ours."
"No," he answers me. He obviously doesn't understand the importance of this.
"We have to, Draco."
He tries to distract me by dropping his towel and pulling on his pyjama pants, as he casually says, "I'm not ... No. No, Harry."
He still doesn't understand. I suppose it's my own fault for not telling him how bad it is, so now I need to make him see. "I have to do this. We both have to. It's … it's the only way it can be just … just us. Please." I know my words aren't expressing just how important this is to me - to us - but it's the best I can do. I'm getting weaker, more tired each day, and I can no longer think straight. If we don't do this, I'm afraid that I'll break, and there will be no repairing me.
"No," he says. Doesn't he know that word is like a knife in my heart? "I don't want to forget."
Surely he can't mean that. Why would anyone want to remember all the horror we have experienced? I need to show him what we will lose. I wrap him in my arms, and I'm holding onto him so tightly that I hope my feelings, my swirling emotions, will climb into him. Closer. Closer. "Please," I beg him. "Please, Draco … I need you. I need you here because I'll …" die without you. I don't say those last words, out of fear that saying them out loud will make them come true, but I can't hold back my tears any longer. So tired … so weak … so confused. "You have to be here. You have to be mine," I explain, hoping I get through to him finally.
"I don't have to do anything," he says to me. I can't believe my ears. Surely he can't mean that.
"You do," I insist as I press my need against his thigh, so he knows just how much I need and desire him. I decide to risk saying the words out loud now, because what else do I have to lose? "You do, because I'll fucking die without you."
Words alone won't do. Especially my jumbled and incoherent ones. I know that now. I need to show him, need to be close to him, need to be … inside him, need to make love to him. I am too far gone, too full of need, of pain, of passion to be gentle. It's okay, though, because we like it a bit rough sometimes, the way it shows our raw feelings for each other. I enter him swiftly and Draco cries out his pleasure. Yes! I grab him by the hips, thrusting into him, knowing that he can feel my desire for him in a way that words could never express. I want to be as close to him as I can be, as deep inside him as his body will let me. I want to be one with him, and I do my best to be as close to that as possible. His panting is my undoing. I grab him and stroke him roughly, telling him how much I love him with every move I make. I cherish this man beneath me, and as he comes and I hear his sobs, I know he feels the same way about me. I continue to make love to him until I too come, knowing that we'll be alright. Forever … together … just the two of us. I whisper, "so beautiful," because he is. He's perfect. My love, my life, my world.
My heart is much lighter as I take my place in our bed to rest. I manage to drift off for a little while - a little longer I think than I have lately, because I know it's about to end. The Pensieve can wait until tomorrow. Tonight I have this.
The next morning, as I come out of the bathroom, Draco spins around quickly, gives me a guilty look, and enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him. What was all that about? I wonder, a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. I go to retrieve my wand and it's … broken! No! I want to scream, but I can't. The words won't come. I'm confused, and I feel so … so … betrayed.
The voices are getting worse now, and they've added taunting me to their agenda. Draco never loved you, they say. He's leaving you, they laugh. You aren't the Golden Boy Hero anymore, and now you're no good to anyone. I can't look at Draco anymore. How did things go so terribly wrong? I can't hold off the voices anymore. They take over, and I no longer have the strength or the will to fight them any longer. Without Draco, what is the point of it all?
I don't even pretend to sleep anymore. I don't talk to Draco, because being near him hurts too much. I thought I could count on him, but I was wrong. I should have known better. I should cut my losses, but I can't bring myself to walk away. I love him so much it hurts. I can't breathe when I think about him leaving. I can't even keep food down anymore, I'm so afraid of life without him.
I walk into our room to find Draco stuffing a suitcase under the bed. Oh, God, no! He can't do this to me, to us. I can't let him go!
"My wand," I spit out. "You did it, didn't you?" I accuse him, because I don't know what else to say.
"Did wha …?" he tries to deny and something inside me snaps, as I grab his face and squeeze.
"Oh, fuck you, Draco. You know what I mean. Just like I know what you've been planning to do."
"Harry," he tries to lie again, so I squeeze some more, hoping to stop the lies from spilling out. I've heard enough lies in my lifetime. I don't think I can take any more, not from Draco.
I let him go, grab the suitcase and dump it out all over the bed. Let him lie to me now! But my resolve breaks just as my anger subsides and is replaced by hurt, pain, emptiness. I can't lie. I tell him the truth, no matter how weak I sound. "You can't leave. You can't leave because there is nothing else! Don't you understand that?"
"Harry, this is ridiculous! This isn't normal! There is a world out there that exists, that is more real than this … whatever this is … that you've created here. We can't … I can't do this anymore."
"Yes you can," I tell him as I get the Pensieve. I have to make him see, make him understand, because I can't survive any other way. "You can! We put everything in here … everything but the memories we have made here, and then we … we can break it and we never have to … never have to face the world or have anyone look at us ever again."
Draco looks tired and closes his eyes, softly saying, "Harry, we can't just … "
"Please Draco," I beg one last time. I look at him for the first time in a long time, and I hope with everything in me that he can see inside my soul, and know that it's the only way.
"Yes," he whispers to me, and opens his eyes.
I beam at him, knowing that I will finally be free. Free from the past, the pain, the suffering. Free to live again.
He gets his wand, and holds his hands out. I give him the Pensieve without hesitation, content in the knowledge that the voices were wrong. Draco does love me. He loves me … he loves me …
The voices scream, Fool! at me just as I register that Draco is about to destroy my last hope. I lunge at him, but too late, as I hear the Pensieve smash into pieces against the wall. I can feel Draco's wand digging into my throat as I collapse to the ground, the voices continuing to taunt me. Fool! Fool! Fool! they call as I feel Draco Apparate us out of the safety of our home.
I have only flashes of memory from that time now. I remember very little after that night, until I woke up in a small room where I was constantly being watched. I know now that it was St. Mungo's and it was the staff - Matrons and Healers - watching over me. I have images of Draco visiting, but I don't think they were real. He just seemed to fade in and out of the room.
It has been a year since Draco brought me here, or so Hermione tells me. I'm still not really sure what happened, and my memories are all so jumbled and hazy that I probably never will know the whole story. The Healers think it was a dark curse that mimicked a Muggle condition known as schizophrenia. Hermione thinks in may have been post traumatic stress disorder, which I'm still not all that clear about. Whatever it was, the worst is gone now. I'm not completely well yet, but I've come a long way, and now I can move back home.
I ask about Draco, but no one will tell me anything. I suppose I understand. They are protective of him, as well as afraid that I will break down again if they tell me he's with someone else. They may be right, but since I haven't seen him for a year, I think that my mind already accepts that he's moved on. Not that I want him with someone else, but I do want him happy.
I shudder at the memories of what I put him through, almost convincing him to erase everything that made him Draco. What was I thinking? Rationally, I know that I wasn't thinking at the time, but that still doesn't ease my guilt.
I feel terribly, horribly guilty, even though everyone tells me it's not my fault. But how can it not be? I may not have killed Draco, but I'm sure I came close to killing his spirit. And I never got to apologize, never got to thank him for saving my life.
I get myself settled in at Grimmauld Place, which Ron and Hermione have prepared for my return. It's a safe place, where I didn't live with Draco, where the memories of that time won't haunt me everywhere I look.
I spend my first night alone, doing exactly what Hermione told me not to do. But then, I never was very good at following instructions that were in place 'for my own good'.
I seal the envelope, and send the letter off with my new owl. I watch him fly into the distance, and blink back tears, hoping he finds Draco.
Draco opens the letter with shaky hands, recognizing the handwriting at once. He takes it outside to read, needing the sound of the water flowing in the stream nearby to calm his nerves.
Dear Draco,
I was told not to write to you, for both our sakes, but I couldn't NOT write. I hope you don't mind. You don't need to answer. You don't need to do anything at all, but I hope you will at least read this letter before throwing it away. There are two very important things I need to tell you that I never had a chance to say before.
First, I need to apologize. The Healers and everyone else say that what happened wasn't my fault, was beyond my control, but I can't accept that. No matter the reason for what happened, I need you to know that I am so very sorry for everything I put you through. I still don't know why my mind told me to do what I did - I don't remember everything even now - but you ... God, you stayed for so long, and that must have been unbearable. I know that sorry doesn't begin to make up for what happened, but I am ... so very sorry. I loved you - I always will - and it kills me that I hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you. I hope you know that.
Second, I need to thank you. You were so brave and so strong to stand up to me. Against all my crazy actions, you managed to get me where I most needed to be. Thank you so much for giving me my life back. Again, words don't begin to cover the magnitude of what you did for me. You saved me. You did what nobody else could - or likely would - have done.
Finally, I understand why you couldn't, and still can't, see me. The thought of seeing me is probably so painful that you'd like to forget all about me, about us. It's probably for the best. You deserve so much better than me, better than what the shattered remains of 'The Boy Who Lived' could ever give you. But I hope you can remember the good times, before everything went so terribly wrong. I do. Those memories are all I have left now. Remember that you have my heart. It is and always will be yours.
Love, Harry.
Draco dropped the letter on the table, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He smiled as he whispered, "Welcome back, Harry."
dm_p's A Beautiful Lie
Title: Welcome Back
Author: sesheta_66
Betas: alaana_fair and melmoe1
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: M (original), R (remix)
Warnings: Angst. Not a happy fic.
Summary: (original) - Harry never says anything, but Draco knows. Draco knows he lies awake in bed at night, thinking about his life. (remix) - The story is retold from Harry's point of view, as the memories of his past haunt him and take over his mind, preventing sleep, preventing rational thought.
Word Count: 3180
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. The awesome and original fanfiction story belongs to dm_p. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
Author's notes: The remix for this is twofold. It tells the story from another character's point of view, and carries on to finish one year after the original. Not DH compliant. All characters are over the age of 18.
I know that I'm disturbing Draco, preventing him from getting rest, so I lie here, pretending to sleep. I can feel him watching me, always watching. I know he worries, so I don't have the heart to tell him about everything that's going on in my head. So much, too much. Faces, voices, those that I've lost, those that hurt me, those that I hurt. Sometimes I can't stop the tears from falling, but I try. And when I feel Draco's hand on my own, comforting me, I relax, knowing that we have each other.
Eventually, sleep claims Draco and I get up to think without his eyes watching me. Sometimes I sleep, when my body finally wins over my mind, but it's never for long. The voices and the faces invade my dreams just as surely as they invade my waking thoughts. I awake frightened, shaking, unable and unwilling to try sleeping again.
I need to ask Draco something, but I'm not sure how. "Draco, do you ever ... " I begin as I watch him in the bath. But I can't finish, can't find the words. I watch his beautiful form, so perfect, so ... ethereal, and I wish I could be more like that. "Want to be different?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, before I can truly process what it is I mean to say.
Draco looks at me with confusion. "Different how?" he asks, almost hesitantly. He doesn't understand. I need to get through to him, but the thoughts in my head are so jumbled. I don't know if I can piece together the words to make him see. So tired ... always so tired. I struggle to say what I think I mean. "I ... like ... " God, it's so frustrating! "Like ... I just ... sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to just let go of the truth. If I would have never gotten my Hogwarts letter, never even known about magic. I wouldn't have had to ... " I don't say the rest of the words, because they're too painful. But they echo in my head just the same. I wouldn't have had to watch so many friends die ... watch so many young witches and wizards choose sides in a losing battle, forced to give up their youth and innocence, for what? I wouldn't have had to hurt others, and ... I wouldn't have had to kill.
So much needless suffering, so much pain. And it continues. I see the pain in Draco's eyes at my words, just before he submerges himself in the water. I take that as my cue to leave, and I take my usual place in our bed, to await his steady breathing so I may get up again.
My dreams come more frequently now. I hear the voices and see the faces before me always. On those rare occasions when I manage to drift off for a few minutes, the visions are painful. They're always the same. Draco leaving me. Draco looking at me with hatred and pain before he walks out of my life forever, and I am left alone - alone with the voices. I do anything I can to avoid sleep now - it hurts far too much.
When I'm awake, I need to be sure Draco doesn't leave me - I couldn't take it if he did. He is my world - the only thing that matters any more. Doesn't he know that? I need to show him, so I never leave him alone. This way, he won't be able to leave, because he loves me too, and he knows that nobody will ever love him like I do. Nobody else. "Nothing else," I explain, closing out the outside world, wrapping us in a cloak of love. "Nothing else but me and you." I think Draco understands ... a little.
Friends drop by to see us, but I don't need them. I have Draco. He knows that I love him, that he's my world now. Friends write, and Draco urges me to read the letters, perhaps write back. Doesn't he understand? I show him what he means to me, how important his love is to me. I burn the letters. "There is nothing else," I tell him. "Nothing else exists."
As he walks to the window, I'm afraid. He reaches out to let the outside world in and I'm overcome with a feeling of foreboding. I grab his arm and whisper to him, "This is perfect. Perfect."
I've made a decision. It's the perfect solution. We will take all of our memories, except those of us and put them into a Pensieve. We can rid ourselves of all the pain, and we can move on with each other. Only each other.
Now that I know what to do, I'm excited about our future. Draco comes out of the shower looking positively delicious, towel hanging low on his hips, and I almost lose track of what I was doing, looking up at him with a goofy grin.
"What are you doing?" he asks, bringing me back to the task at hand.
"It's time," I answer, reaching for the Pensieve. "Time to forget about the past. Time to wash away what happened last and mix our memories together so that they aren't yours and mine anymore, but ours."
"No," he answers me. He obviously doesn't understand the importance of this.
"We have to, Draco."
He tries to distract me by dropping his towel and pulling on his pyjama pants, as he casually says, "I'm not ... No. No, Harry."
He still doesn't understand. I suppose it's my own fault for not telling him how bad it is, so now I need to make him see. "I have to do this. We both have to. It's … it's the only way it can be just … just us. Please." I know my words aren't expressing just how important this is to me - to us - but it's the best I can do. I'm getting weaker, more tired each day, and I can no longer think straight. If we don't do this, I'm afraid that I'll break, and there will be no repairing me.
"No," he says. Doesn't he know that word is like a knife in my heart? "I don't want to forget."
Surely he can't mean that. Why would anyone want to remember all the horror we have experienced? I need to show him what we will lose. I wrap him in my arms, and I'm holding onto him so tightly that I hope my feelings, my swirling emotions, will climb into him. Closer. Closer. "Please," I beg him. "Please, Draco … I need you. I need you here because I'll …" die without you. I don't say those last words, out of fear that saying them out loud will make them come true, but I can't hold back my tears any longer. So tired … so weak … so confused. "You have to be here. You have to be mine," I explain, hoping I get through to him finally.
"I don't have to do anything," he says to me. I can't believe my ears. Surely he can't mean that.
"You do," I insist as I press my need against his thigh, so he knows just how much I need and desire him. I decide to risk saying the words out loud now, because what else do I have to lose? "You do, because I'll fucking die without you."
Words alone won't do. Especially my jumbled and incoherent ones. I know that now. I need to show him, need to be close to him, need to be … inside him, need to make love to him. I am too far gone, too full of need, of pain, of passion to be gentle. It's okay, though, because we like it a bit rough sometimes, the way it shows our raw feelings for each other. I enter him swiftly and Draco cries out his pleasure. Yes! I grab him by the hips, thrusting into him, knowing that he can feel my desire for him in a way that words could never express. I want to be as close to him as I can be, as deep inside him as his body will let me. I want to be one with him, and I do my best to be as close to that as possible. His panting is my undoing. I grab him and stroke him roughly, telling him how much I love him with every move I make. I cherish this man beneath me, and as he comes and I hear his sobs, I know he feels the same way about me. I continue to make love to him until I too come, knowing that we'll be alright. Forever … together … just the two of us. I whisper, "so beautiful," because he is. He's perfect. My love, my life, my world.
My heart is much lighter as I take my place in our bed to rest. I manage to drift off for a little while - a little longer I think than I have lately, because I know it's about to end. The Pensieve can wait until tomorrow. Tonight I have this.
The next morning, as I come out of the bathroom, Draco spins around quickly, gives me a guilty look, and enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him. What was all that about? I wonder, a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. I go to retrieve my wand and it's … broken! No! I want to scream, but I can't. The words won't come. I'm confused, and I feel so … so … betrayed.
The voices are getting worse now, and they've added taunting me to their agenda. Draco never loved you, they say. He's leaving you, they laugh. You aren't the Golden Boy Hero anymore, and now you're no good to anyone. I can't look at Draco anymore. How did things go so terribly wrong? I can't hold off the voices anymore. They take over, and I no longer have the strength or the will to fight them any longer. Without Draco, what is the point of it all?
I don't even pretend to sleep anymore. I don't talk to Draco, because being near him hurts too much. I thought I could count on him, but I was wrong. I should have known better. I should cut my losses, but I can't bring myself to walk away. I love him so much it hurts. I can't breathe when I think about him leaving. I can't even keep food down anymore, I'm so afraid of life without him.
I walk into our room to find Draco stuffing a suitcase under the bed. Oh, God, no! He can't do this to me, to us. I can't let him go!
"My wand," I spit out. "You did it, didn't you?" I accuse him, because I don't know what else to say.
"Did wha …?" he tries to deny and something inside me snaps, as I grab his face and squeeze.
"Oh, fuck you, Draco. You know what I mean. Just like I know what you've been planning to do."
"Harry," he tries to lie again, so I squeeze some more, hoping to stop the lies from spilling out. I've heard enough lies in my lifetime. I don't think I can take any more, not from Draco.
I let him go, grab the suitcase and dump it out all over the bed. Let him lie to me now! But my resolve breaks just as my anger subsides and is replaced by hurt, pain, emptiness. I can't lie. I tell him the truth, no matter how weak I sound. "You can't leave. You can't leave because there is nothing else! Don't you understand that?"
"Harry, this is ridiculous! This isn't normal! There is a world out there that exists, that is more real than this … whatever this is … that you've created here. We can't … I can't do this anymore."
"Yes you can," I tell him as I get the Pensieve. I have to make him see, make him understand, because I can't survive any other way. "You can! We put everything in here … everything but the memories we have made here, and then we … we can break it and we never have to … never have to face the world or have anyone look at us ever again."
Draco looks tired and closes his eyes, softly saying, "Harry, we can't just … "
"Please Draco," I beg one last time. I look at him for the first time in a long time, and I hope with everything in me that he can see inside my soul, and know that it's the only way.
"Yes," he whispers to me, and opens his eyes.
I beam at him, knowing that I will finally be free. Free from the past, the pain, the suffering. Free to live again.
He gets his wand, and holds his hands out. I give him the Pensieve without hesitation, content in the knowledge that the voices were wrong. Draco does love me. He loves me … he loves me …
The voices scream, Fool! at me just as I register that Draco is about to destroy my last hope. I lunge at him, but too late, as I hear the Pensieve smash into pieces against the wall. I can feel Draco's wand digging into my throat as I collapse to the ground, the voices continuing to taunt me. Fool! Fool! Fool! they call as I feel Draco Apparate us out of the safety of our home.
I have only flashes of memory from that time now. I remember very little after that night, until I woke up in a small room where I was constantly being watched. I know now that it was St. Mungo's and it was the staff - Matrons and Healers - watching over me. I have images of Draco visiting, but I don't think they were real. He just seemed to fade in and out of the room.
It has been a year since Draco brought me here, or so Hermione tells me. I'm still not really sure what happened, and my memories are all so jumbled and hazy that I probably never will know the whole story. The Healers think it was a dark curse that mimicked a Muggle condition known as schizophrenia. Hermione thinks in may have been post traumatic stress disorder, which I'm still not all that clear about. Whatever it was, the worst is gone now. I'm not completely well yet, but I've come a long way, and now I can move back home.
I ask about Draco, but no one will tell me anything. I suppose I understand. They are protective of him, as well as afraid that I will break down again if they tell me he's with someone else. They may be right, but since I haven't seen him for a year, I think that my mind already accepts that he's moved on. Not that I want him with someone else, but I do want him happy.
I shudder at the memories of what I put him through, almost convincing him to erase everything that made him Draco. What was I thinking? Rationally, I know that I wasn't thinking at the time, but that still doesn't ease my guilt.
I feel terribly, horribly guilty, even though everyone tells me it's not my fault. But how can it not be? I may not have killed Draco, but I'm sure I came close to killing his spirit. And I never got to apologize, never got to thank him for saving my life.
I get myself settled in at Grimmauld Place, which Ron and Hermione have prepared for my return. It's a safe place, where I didn't live with Draco, where the memories of that time won't haunt me everywhere I look.
I spend my first night alone, doing exactly what Hermione told me not to do. But then, I never was very good at following instructions that were in place 'for my own good'.
I seal the envelope, and send the letter off with my new owl. I watch him fly into the distance, and blink back tears, hoping he finds Draco.
Draco opens the letter with shaky hands, recognizing the handwriting at once. He takes it outside to read, needing the sound of the water flowing in the stream nearby to calm his nerves.
Dear Draco,
I was told not to write to you, for both our sakes, but I couldn't NOT write. I hope you don't mind. You don't need to answer. You don't need to do anything at all, but I hope you will at least read this letter before throwing it away. There are two very important things I need to tell you that I never had a chance to say before.
First, I need to apologize. The Healers and everyone else say that what happened wasn't my fault, was beyond my control, but I can't accept that. No matter the reason for what happened, I need you to know that I am so very sorry for everything I put you through. I still don't know why my mind told me to do what I did - I don't remember everything even now - but you ... God, you stayed for so long, and that must have been unbearable. I know that sorry doesn't begin to make up for what happened, but I am ... so very sorry. I loved you - I always will - and it kills me that I hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you. I hope you know that.
Second, I need to thank you. You were so brave and so strong to stand up to me. Against all my crazy actions, you managed to get me where I most needed to be. Thank you so much for giving me my life back. Again, words don't begin to cover the magnitude of what you did for me. You saved me. You did what nobody else could - or likely would - have done.
Finally, I understand why you couldn't, and still can't, see me. The thought of seeing me is probably so painful that you'd like to forget all about me, about us. It's probably for the best. You deserve so much better than me, better than what the shattered remains of 'The Boy Who Lived' could ever give you. But I hope you can remember the good times, before everything went so terribly wrong. I do. Those memories are all I have left now. Remember that you have my heart. It is and always will be yours.
Love, Harry.
Draco dropped the letter on the table, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He smiled as he whispered, "Welcome back, Harry."