Ember to Ember

Date: September 16
From: [email protected]
To: hjpotter@gringotts.wz
I'm home.

ooo000ooo

September 16

Draco idly regarded his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Not bad. Thinner and looking tired - six weeks' incarceration and twenty-five hours awake could do that to you - but otherwise he didn't look nearly as haggard as he'd thought he might.

He ran his fingers over the mirror, noting its pristine condition distantly. He was fairly sure he hadn't done a cleaning spell the morning they'd left for Brigid's Cross six weeks ago; must've been Harry, then. There were other signs of Harry's presence in the flat. It was comforting, Draco supposed.

There were probably things he could and should be doing, things he should be thinking or worrying about, but for right now all he could handle were the basics. He'd showered, most importantly. Changed clothes, put on something clean and comfortable and his. Bought some food from the all-night store. Sent Harry an e-mail. And there wasn't really anything else to do, not at this godforsaken hour of the morning.

He sat down, turned on the telly. It worked, which was nice. He'd more or less expected Harry would somehow ensure the basics of his life were taken care of during his absence - rent, heat, electricity - but Harry didn't live in the Muggle world, so he'd really had no idea what he'd be coming home to.

Oh good, a re-run of Mastermind. Dull enough; perfect. He closed his eyes, drifting off almost immediately.

He woke up suddenly to the clanging of his cell door as the guards opened it for lunch.

No, not clanging. Knocking. Somebody was knocking at his door. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, pulled himself upright, and stumbled to the front door.

Harry.

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry gave him a tentative smile.

"Can I come in?"

Draco stepped back automatically, letting Harry into his home.

"I got your e-mail. Are you all right? When did you get in?"

"What time is it?" Draco asked, and his voice sounded hoarse from disuse.

"Seven. I got your e-mail half an hour ago. Would've got here sooner, but Alec-"

"I only got home two hours ago myself."

Harry frowned. "You were supposed to be released yesterday."

"I was. At 11:59."

"Bastards."

Draco shrugged, going into the kitchen. "D'you want tea, or-"

"Sure, thanks. You look exhausted. You were traveling all night then?"

"Pretty much."

"How did you get home?"

"They dropped me off in the Shetlands. I had to trade sexual favours for Portkeys to Ireland."

Harry blinked.

"Merlin, Harry, I'm joking," Draco said, annoyed. He found his Muggle kettle and plugged it in. "They only let me use Portkeys as far as Uisneach Hill, but they did leave me my wallet and credit cards." Mental note, he thought to himself: Do not attempt humour again this morning.

"God, I'm sorry. I asked them to give me notice when you were released, but-"

"Why would they?"

"I've been involved in your case. A lot." He paused. "I'm sorry," he said nervously. "I know you didn't want anybody to know about us, but I had to-"

Draco nodded resignedly and got out two teacups. "It's all right. I had to tell the Aurors during my questioning anyway." He got out the tea. "Would've had to tell them anyway at my semi-annual. Which was supposed to happen sometime this month."

"Nobody appears to have let anything slip to the press, for whatever that's worth," Harry said carefully.

"Good."

"How much do you know about what was going on outside?"

"Nothing. They don't tell inmates anything, Harry. It's not Muggle prison."

Harry nodded. "I, erm, I got in contact with Kara when she got back in town," he said. "Told her you were in the hospital. She took Ben, except for a few weekends when she was working - I offered, by the way, she didn't ask. He's all right, although he's missed you. I contacted your work, told them about your 'illness.' You've only missed the first two weeks of term; they said it was all right. Paid your bills - the ones I knew about, sorry I didn't know your bank account information but-"

"Where's Ben now?" Draco interrupted.

"With Kara. They should be up - d'you want me to call them?"

Draco shook his head, feeling numb. "Kara sleeps till nine most mornings."

"She wouldn't mind, I'm sure."

"Hospital patients aren't released first thing in the morning."

Harry nodded. "We didn't know when you'd be back, they wouldn't tell us anything other than you were being released yesterday, but we-"

"Who's we?"

"Erm. Hermione, actually." Harry bit his lip. "She, erm. She's been involved in a lot of this. She's good at officialese and administration and a lot of things that rather baffle me."

Draco nodded and poured their teas.

"So. Erm." Harry seemed to take heart from the fact that Draco hadn't reacted badly, and Draco wondered if Harry had any clue just how little it concerned him that Hermione Granger had been involved in his affairs.

Probably not.

"So, I've told Hermione you're back, and it's all been arranged; she's going to pick up Ben from school at noon and bring him here. Kara and the school will be told something - forget what, Hermione'll know - so they won't worry." Harry stopped. "Does that... is that all right?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Draco said, glancing at the clock. Noon. Five hours from now. Maybe he could sleep before then.

"How... are you feeling?" Harry asked tentatively, and Draco was struck by the fact that, for the umpteenth time since they'd come back into contact, they seemed completely unable to figure out how to act towards each other. Funny how they seemed to keep coming back here.

What now? Should they touch? Clasp hands? Hug? Kiss?

He supposed most people coming back from being incarcerated would greet their significant other with a bit more effusiveness, but then again most people welcoming back their significant other would also be a bit more effusive...wouldn't they?

He had no idea. And he didn't know what he wanted, either. But from the hesitant way Harry was acting, he probably wanted Draco to initiate... assuming he still wanted anything to happen. He reached out a hand and Harry immediately came into his arms, holding Draco close and sighing deeply. Draco closed his eyes, trying to ignore his slight discomfort and numbness.

Harry kissed him, then drew back, touching his cheek lightly. "You'll be keeping the beard?"

"I can't do magic," Draco reminded him quietly. "Without it you can see my scar from the war, and I don't want to explain why I suddenly have a facial scar when I've supposedly been in hospital for six weeks."

Harry nodded. "I like it," he said. He gently pulled Draco close again, and Draco let him, too tired to really do anything else. He met Harry's mouth with his, closing his eyes at the familiarity of Harry's lips and scent, the warmth of another human being.

It was as though words didn't fit here. And he didn't have any; he'd spent six weeks not speaking, and it was too difficult, with no sleep, and disoriented as hell, to figure out what to say.

They moved to the bedroom with a kind of sleepwalking inevitability, and he lay back on the bed, pulling Harry close. Harry slowly kissed him, moving down his neck. Draco sighed, closing his eyes. Harry was being so gentle with him... and Merlin, this wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought about this so much - there was little else to do in Azkaban - and he'd pictured angry sex, working out their frustrations; desperate sex, after six weeks without; awkward sex... nothing like this.

He felt so... brittle. Nobody had touched him in six weeks; Azkaban inmates were untouchables, manipulated solely by magic. No warm hand in his, no fingers running through his hair, no hugs from Ben, nothing. As though he were too lowly to touch.

Harry's touch felt odd, at once alien and soothing. As if he were trying to take away the stamp of Azkaban. Wordlessly running hands and lips and tongue all over Draco's body slowly, caressing him gently, holding him close. And Draco wasn't just grabbing whatever he could of Harry, as he'd often fantasized about at Azkaban. He was letting the long strands of Harry's hair spill through his fingers, noticing how the low lamplight made the silver through the jet black shimmer. Feeling Harry's chest rise and fall, tasting the hollow at the base of his neck again. Looking into his eyes and wishing he wasn't so fucking sleep-deprived, wishing he could somehow connect, somehow feel real...

He lay back, parting his thighs and wordlessly showing Harry what he wanted, and Harry's eyebrows went up, but he nodded. And when, a long time later, Harry gently entered him, it all felt so surreal. The newness of the sensations, the cleanliness of his skin, the scent of soap and fresh sheets, the softness of the bed, the warmth of another human being moving over and in him...

They were almost silent, moving with one another, and he had no idea what Harry was thinking, as Harry laced their fingers together and kissed him as deeply as he could considering their position. Draco blinked slowly, wondering at the dreamlike peace even as they reached for completion. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the pillow as the pleasure crested, and it was an oddly muted shiver and release, so different from the sharpness of climax he was used to with Harry. He felt Harry's lips on his neck for a moment before Harry gasped and tightened his hold on Draco, shuddering slightly and biting back a muffled cry.

They kissed slowly, and Harry's hand on his cheek felt warm and comforting. Harry gently disengaged, and they lay together, their breathing slowing down, Harry's fingers idly playing through Draco's hair.

"Go to sleep," Harry whispered. "Ben'll be here at noon."

"Yeah," Draco said numbly, and watched as Harry dropped into sleep. He was always either ridiculously energized or worn out after sex.

Draco didn't sleep. He'd been awake for so long it felt as though he'd forgotten how. Instead, he watched Harry sleep, looked around his bedroom, reminded himself that he was home. Really home. Where he'd half-believed he would never be again. After so many years of seeing Azkaban in his occasional nightmares, the reality of it was so familiar that some days he'd had trouble believing that he'd ever been out. It seemed like his life outside had been the dream, and Azkaban his only reality.

His first day back at Azkaban, he'd nervously entered the courtyard where the inmates were allowed to congregate during lunch, dreading his parents' reactions. Father had just looked resigned and tired when he spotted Draco. Mother had smiled at him vaguely at first, then done what would have been a comical double-take in any other setting and fainted dead away. Father hadn't bothered to go to her; the guards were already disdainfully levitating her and taking her away.

"You're back," Father had said, his voice hoarse and weary.

"Not for long," he'd replied.

"What happened?"

"I violated my parole."

"Why?"

"To protect somebody."

"I see." Father didn't seem overly interested. "How long will you be here, then?"

"Six weeks."

Father nodded. "That's not long. Then you're out again?"

"Yes. Can't use magic for another three months, though."

"That's not bad."

"No, it's not." He paused. "Will Mother be all right?"

Father shrugged. "I don't know. She's not well these days. We don't talk much."

That had been an understatement, Draco had found. In fact, it had been almost impossible to talk to either of his parents. They'd spent most of their free hours in the courtyard sitting silently, watching the other inmates. Not a terribly interesting bunch. And half the time, Mother wasn't even there; apparently Draco's presence upset her, so she stayed in her cell.

"Why didn't you ever write back?" he'd asked Father once.

Father raised his eyebrows. "There was nothing to write about."

"Really."

Father shrugged. "The rats were particularly vicious the winter you were released. Your mother's robes got a hole at the back, and the guards refused to change or fix them. She spent every free outside hour leaning against the wall. Did you wish to hear about that?"

"You could've said something about what I was doing."

"Such as?"

Draco shrugged wearily. "I don't know. Anything. 'I'm sorry it's hard to live in the Muggle world. I'm proud of you for trying to make something of yourself. You can do it.'"

"I was sorry. I was proud. And I..." his father paused, frowning slightly. "I had faith in you, I suppose."

Draco looked away. "Why couldn't you write any of that?"

Father sat silently for a long time. "This place... this isn't any better than death," he said slowly. "You have a chance at a life. Your mother and I didn't want you to spend the rest of your days thinking of yourself as part of a family that was mostly incarcerated. We wanted you to start anew, as much as you could. When you wrote that you were trying to make your way in the Muggle world, there was nothing that we could say to help you. We had no advice for you. We had nothing to give you other than a tie to something that wasn't going to help you. Better to cut you off than have you holding on to something that would be of no use to you."

"I have a son," Draco had said then. His father paused, surprise breaking through his weary indifference. Draco was somewhat surprised at himself.

"What?"

"His name is Ben. He's five. You're a grandfather."

Father stared at him.

"Do you want to know anything else about him?"

A cautious nod.

"He's very talkative. Very friendly. Does fairly well at school, though he's a bit restless. He has some magic; not sure how much yet. Although..." Draco had realized something. "He did Apparate spontaneously, so I suppose it's quite likely that he'll go to Hogwarts."

Father nodded again.

"He's very musical. Has a beautiful voice; his mother's a singer."

"I thought you were gay," Father commented.

"I am. And his mother's a lesbian. It's a long story."

"Is she anybody I knew?"

Draco shook his head. "She's a Muggle."

Father had merely nodded, and they'd lapsed back into silence.

ooo000ooo

Time seemed to be moving in fits and starts today. It seemed as though he'd sat watching Harry sleep and thinking of Azkaban for days before Granger had shown up with Ben at noon. Then there had been a whirlwind of activity as Ben had run to hug him and cried happy tears and talked a mile a minute and Draco held him, closing his eyes and breathing in Ben's little-boy smell of dirt and finger-paint. Granger, who seemed to have become quite familiar with Ben, bustled about getting him some scones with raspberry jam, the type he liked the most, as Harry put Ben's things away. And there was too much movement, too much sound, too much colour, after the drab monotony of Azkaban.

Now Harry and Granger were leaving, at Draco's request. Harry pulled Draco into the front hall.

"This is for safety," Harry said as he gave Draco a small silver charm shaped like a stag, speaking softly so Ben wouldn't hear them. "Hermione arranged it with the Aurors. Since you're not allowed to do magic to defend yourself, you can carry this with you - in your pocket, on a chain, whatever you want - and whenever you tap it, it summons your emergency contact. That's me. Use it any time; if you tap it twice that means it's an emergency; otherwise, it just means you want to see me. I'll Apparate wherever you are."

Draco nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me here?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I'm sure."

Harry put an arm around him, kissing him gently. Another time he might have been irritated at this excessive solicitousness, but right now he was just ridiculously grateful. Ben continued chattering happily to Granger in the kitchen, oblivious.

Draco took a deep breath and came back into the kitchen after they left, wondering if what he was about to do was wise. He should probably sleep on it. Then again, if he did, he'd probably convince himself he shouldn't do it at all...

He stirred his tea and glanced over his mail as Ben ate his scones and kept talking. About his mum, about Alec and Harry, school, everything and anything. How many times had they sat like this while he went over work-related things and Ben ate and nattered on? Probably hundreds. The difference being that right now Ben was over the moon, and Draco couldn't remember ever being more exhausted.

"Jason really likes scones too," Ben was saying happily, and Draco smiled, still somewhat bemused. Harry and Granger had exchanged a nervous look when Ben had brought up Jason Weasley, shortly after they'd arrived.

"Erm." Harry had cleared his throat. "Ben's been with the Weasleys a few times," he'd blurted out apologetically. "We'd been invited to dinner the day you left and... and we got there before the party and I didn't know if you'd approve, but Ben wanted to meet other wizard kids, and-"

"Harry was going to just go before anybody else got there," Granger had said, "but that would've meant Alec would miss out on some things he'd been looking forward to, or he'd do them without Harry, so I thought..."

Draco had waved off their apologies. Considering where he'd been, seeing Ben happy and safe far outweighed any concern over who he might have been with.

"You had fun with Alec's cousins, did you?" Draco asked him now, and Ben nodded enthusiastically, bits of scone dropping as he opened his mouth to talk. Draco gently closed his son's bottom lip, and Ben obediently finished chewing and swallowing.

"Oh yeah. They were brilliant! I've never seen so many people with ginger hair, like Alec! D'you remember that film with the clone soldiers?"

Draco frowned, puzzled, then remembered. Ah yes. Star Warring. A Muggle film he'd felt was particularly objectionable for a five-year-old; one of the only parenting topics he and Kara had fought about.

"They all look like Alec, except for maybe three of them. And two of the little ones even look exactly the same! Their da said he couldn't tell them apart either and it didn't matter anyway." He paused. "Or maybe it was their uncle said that."

Draco smiled.

"There was only one girl," Ben said. "She tried to trick me into eating some sweets that exploded, and her da got really upset. Or maybe it was her uncle. I'm not sure. Anyway he said that was no way to treat a guest and she didn't get any pudding."

Draco took a deep breath. All right, enough delaying. "Ben, there's a few things I need to tell you about," he began, as Ben clumsily loaded more jam onto his scone.

"About what?"

"About me being gone so long. And about why I won't be able to do magic for a few months."

"You're all better now, right?" Ben asked, giving him a slightly worried glance.

"Yes, I'm fine. I have to tell you, though." He took a deep breath. "I wasn't at the hospital, Ben. You were told that so that you wouldn't worry about me, but I wasn't at the hospital." Ben frowned. "I didn't really get sick."

"Yeah, you did," Ben said slowly. "You went green and had to lie down."

"D'you remember I told you once that some magic can change memories?"

"Yeah?"

"That's what we did to you. I know you remember an ambulance and all that, but that memory's not real."

"What?" Ben frowned, confused. "What really happened?"

"Some people were going to harm you, and I used magic I wasn't supposed to use, to defend you."

"Did it work?"

"Yes. But I went to prison."

Ben's eyes widened. "Why didn't they get put in prison?" he asked indignantly.

"Because they weren't going to hit you or hex you or anything like that. They... they were going to tell people that I was your father, and I was afraid of what would happen if they did that."

Now Ben looked completely lost. "How could that hurt me?"

"Ben..." He paused. "I don't want anybody to know whose son you are," he said carefully. "I... I don't want anybody to hurt you or hate you because of who I am."

"But... why would they?"

He took a deep breath. "D'you remember Alec told you about a bad man who started a war in the wizarding world?"

"Yeah!" Ben nodded enthusiastically. "And his mam and da were heroes!"

Draco nodded. "Harry's a really big hero. The whole wizarding world knows him; he's the one who beat the bad man. If he wanted to, he could be Minister for Magic or something like that. Instead, he just wants to live a quiet life with Alec. He doesn't want Alec to have people fuss over him because of who his father is."

"Really?" Ben blinked. "How come Alec never told me that?"

Draco smiled slightly. "Alec doesn't know just how famous his dad is, Ben." He cleared his throat. "I'm sort of famous too. Not nearly as much as Harry, but a lot of people know who I am. But I wasn't a hero, like Alec's mum and dad. I wish I had been, but... remember you asked me why I lived in the Muggle world?"

Ben nodded.

"It's because I was kicked out of the wizarding world."

Ben's mouth dropped open in shock. "What? Why?!"

"During the war, my family was on the side of the bad man Harry fought. Remember he wanted purebloods to rule everything? My parents were purebloods. They believed in that man, and they helped him." He took another deep breath and briefly wondered if he'd ever in his life done anything as difficult as this. "And so did I. I believed what he said. I don't any more, but I did then."

Merlin, there couldn't be anything as painful as looking into your child's eyes and seeing what he was seeing in Ben's. "What... what did you do?" Ben asked, his voice very small.

"A lot of things. I helped the bad man's supporters get into Hogwarts, and a lot of people got hurt. Did you meet Alec's uncle with the scars?"

"Yeah! He looks scary but he's really nice. And he's married to a really really pretty lady."

"One of the people I let into the school was a werewolf, and he almost killed Alec's uncle. I... I didn't know there would be a werewolf there. But I would've let him in anyway."

"But why?"

"Because the bad man had threatened me and my parents, and because I believed in him. I was scared of him, but I still thought he was right." He looked down, unable to meet Ben's bewildered eyes. "And because of that, I was put in prison for nine months, and then I couldn't do magic for three more years."

"But... how could you believe in the bad man?"

"I thought it was the right thing to do, at the time," he said, cursing the unsteadiness of his voice. "My parents raised me to believe what the bad man said, to believe that people like you were no good for the wizarding world. People like Harry and Hermione too. And our family was very rich, and very powerful and respected, so I thought we were right."

"Are they still powerful?"

"No. My parents lost everything. You know how you asked where my parents are now? They're... they're in prison. And there's still people who remember we did all that, and they don't want me back. Like the people who were going to hurt you the day I was arrested."

Ben frowned. "But... why did they want to hurt me?"

"Because you're my son. Because my family did a lot of bad things, and they were afraid that I was going to raise you to be the same way. To believe the same things."

Ben gaped at him.

"Ben, I don't want anybody to know you're my son. It's why I had you wear an amulet that day we went to Brigid's Cross. You can't tell anybody. It's not because I'm ashamed of you. It's because I'm ashamed of myself."

And it struck Draco, viscerally, as soon as he'd said it out loud, that he meant it. He'd thought about what to say for weeks and had settled on this as the easiest way for Ben to understand, even if it was somewhat inaccurate. But now... now that he'd said the words, he realized how true they were. That he felt exactly that: shame. Shame at his Mark, at the beliefs he'd espoused, at the harm he'd done. At the humiliation of having had his first wand snapped in front of him, being caged like an animal, being exiled because his world didn't want him any more. Living the rest of his life as a dangerous criminal, watched over by parole officers because he couldn't be trusted to behave himself. His childhood home sold, his heritage destroyed. His family of birth still incarcerated, his mother half-insane, his father a shell of what he'd once been.

He blinked, realizing his eyes were filling and his throat was tightening up. Made himself continue, forcing calmness into his voice. "People still remember me and my family, and what we did. You can't-"

"Why can't you put on an amulet? So they won't recognize you?"

"It's part of my punishment. You know my tattoo? That's called a Dark Mark, and it shows I was a follower of the bad man. Everybody with that tattoo was given the same sentence; none of us are allowed to hide who we are."

"But - but Mam got rid of her tattoo when she didn't like Linda any more-"

"It's not like a Muggle tattoo, Ben. It's magic, and it's permanent. And my punishment for having it is that for the rest of my life, if I go to the wizarding world, I have to risk having people treat me badly, or yell at me, or even spit on me. If they hit me or hex me, I can defend myself, or leave. But they can do just about anything else. They can tell me they don't want me in their stores or restaurants, they can be rude to me, and I can't do anything about it. For the rest of my life."

Ben's face darkened and he scowled. "I don't want to go back there, then!" he said vehemently, and Draco's composure started to falter.

"N-no," he said, his voice shaking. "Ben, don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault. I just don't want anybody to know-"

"But-"

"It's not your fault. What I did doesn't have anything to do with you! It has to do with the Malfoy family, and you're not one of us!"

"But..." Ben was looking so bloody lost.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, desperately holding back the sobs that threatened to break out at the anger and hurt and confusion in Ben's eyes. "I'm so sorry. I wish... if I could go back in time I would change all of that. But I can't."

Bloody hell. Nine months in prison, three years without magic, three more years of living only in the Muggle world, and a renewed incarceration hadn't done it. He'd mouthed the words so many times: I'm sorry, I regret my actions, I accept that what I did was wrong; said all of that to the Aurors, the Wizengamot, the guards, and his parole officers. He'd even believed them, to a certain extent. But it was only here, facing Ben, that they finally hit home. That he finally realized he regretted his past more than he'd ever thought possible. Regretted not being who his son thought he was. Regretted his actions, his thoughts, his existence before Ben was born. Regretted all of it.

This little half-blood boy, who was so loving and intelligent, so gentle and protective of others - this incredible little person who'd taken over Draco's life completely, was exactly the kind of person he would've despised before the war. Just as stupidly as Ben's Muggle grandfather despised him now, for things Ben had no control over, the colour of his skin and the sexual orientation of his parents. His son, this amazing little boy, would have been worthless to him back then. And there was no way to make that any better, no justification for it.

And there wasn't any point in trying to hold back his sorrow, because he couldn't any more.

"Ben-" he choked out as the tears started to flow freely, and Ben's eyes widened as he slid off his chair. Draco tried to turn away but Ben climbed into his lap and hugged him, and Draco quickly tapped the small stag-charm in his pocket.

Harry was in his kitchen in an instant. Draco tried to gently push Ben away. "Please, Ben, go with Harry, all right? I'll - I'll be all right in a minute-"

Ben held on tighter, and it was no use; Draco couldn't get away, couldn't stop crying, couldn't do anything. God.

Harry knelt down next to the chair and put his arms around them both, murmuring something Draco couldn't hear over his own sobs. Draco finally let himself relax into his embrace, and let go.