Boys on the Radio

Chapter Twelve

Crash and burn,

All the stars explode tonight.

How'd you get so desperate?

How'd you stay alive?

It would have been quite difficult for Harry to accurately describe an account on what had happened. It seemed to have all happened with no pause, no moment to process surroundings, just a past-paced train going down a quite long winding road. Harry wondered if he was dreaming at points. But he knew it was all too wonderful to be a dream ... Even a good one.

Once they had decided to leave, the two of them had both returned to their proper dormitories. Harry didn't speak to anyone much. He was putting things together. He wouldn't be taking everything, only the essentials. He left most everything behind, as extra baggage would be a burden.

He did have some doubts. He was frightened. He wanted to be with Draco, definitely. Even so, it would be difficult leaving everything behind. Hogwarts had been his home for over four years. It was hard realizing what was worth it ... Home or Draco? But Harry knew there was much more to it than that.

Everyone was down in the common room as Harry packed some clothes into his bag in a hurried fashion. Once he was finished, he searched the room for anything he was forgotten. He knew very well he hadn't, but he was choosing to linger. He still found himself in a rather pensive state of mind. He wasn't ready to leave just yet.

He considered writing a note to his friends. He wanted them to know he was fine. He had already planned in his head to be writing to Ron and Hermione constantly, but now, running that in his head, he wasn't sure if that'd be such a good idea. Keeping in contact with them would make the runaway only more painful and he knew it. He would write one letter, addressed to them both. He pondered what he would say to them. What could he possibly say to explain everything?

There was nothing he could really say. Ron and Hermione would be shocked by his behavior. They would be angry with him probably. He knew he couldn't blame them. He wasn't truly thinking too much of the consequences of his actions at this point. That was usually Draco's job, but in these desperate circumstances, neither was. But he still owed it to Ron and Hermione to tell them the truth.

He used Ron's own quill and parchment and began writing, or at least, he attempted to. He didn't know to express himself. No matter what he wrote, it wouldn't make sense. His actions were irrational, and even Harry realized that. He wasn't thinking of Ron and Hermione at all. Somehow, it didn't shock him. A few months ago, he would have taken them with him, but they had been slipping out of his life lately since Draco came in.

He knew he still loved them. He really did care so much about them. In a way, he was helping them. Voldemort would be after Harry and he therefore would take the attention off Hogwarts. He was sure Ron and Hermione would be all right. He just wasn't sure if he would. He needed to get away.

Tears slipped down his face unknowingly as he let out the most honest emotions onto the parchment. Harry had never been great at writing. Draco would be great at this. He wasn't good at being too profound. He was just being honest. The letter, in the end, was much longer than he would have ever imagined. As he read it, he thought it was complete rubbish. It would have to do. He had to meet Draco. He was already running late.

He took one last look around, took his bag, and reread the letter, though he had no intentions of editing. It read:

I don't really know how to explain why I'm doing this. A lot has happened since school began, I'll tell you that. It involves things you'd have never imagined me doing before; things I still have a hard time accepting. I don't have real reasons, but, I have decided I can't do this anymore. I can't live this lie here pretending things are okay. I'm leaving. I don't know when I will be back, but it will be safer here without me I'm sure. I love you all so much but I can't stay. Thanks for everything. If I could change this, I would.

Please don't try to find me. Please don't worry. I will see you guys again when this is all over.

Harry.

It was poor, really. It looked quite cruel in fact. But it was no bother now. He wasn't going to make any changes. It would never be right. None of this would. But he was going to do it and that was all there was to it. At that, Harry left with his cloak over him.

Even as he went to the Astronomy Tower to meet Draco, he couldn't help but feel a bit depressed. He was sure he'd be fine after a while. He'd deal with it. There'd be more positive coming than negative he was sure. He would miss Ron and Hermione more than anything. With any luck, though, it wouldn't be too long until he had the opportunity to see them again. He would have to simply wait and watch for things to unfold. He wasn't sure how much he liked it. He someone had the impression, though, that Draco had much more of a plan than he did.

Harry wondered blankly about Blaze. He wondered if there was any news on her yet. If there were, Draco, naturally, would be of the first to know anything. She was in a very bad state back in the classroom, but all things considered, she had survived at most and was at St. Mungo's. Harry hoped she would be all right. No one should have to die like that, for something so stupid and cruel.

Harry walked up to the top of the tower and found Draco waiting.

Draco had tried very hard to not put too much thought into what he had been doing. He simply packed. He did it in a secretive matter, no one saw him. He thought leaving would be simply. It had gone so simple so far. But then of course, something had to come ruin it.

"Draco! Oh my God," it was Pansy. She looked awful. He had never seen her so pale and upset. "Blaze is gone."

Draco didn't quite understood what she meant. "What?"

"Draco, we've lost her," she cried, falling into Draco's arms. Draco didn't quite understand at first. Blaze couldn't be dead .... She had been taken to St. Mungo's, she was under great care ... How could they have lost her? No, surely not ....

"Pansy, what are you talking about? Blaze, no, she's fine," Draco said reassuringly, perhaps more just to his own state of mind. But Draco also knew that Pansy wouldn't be hysterical quite like this for nothing .... Could it have happened?
"I just got an owl from St. Mungo's. They've been trying to treat her, but she went much too long without her medication. The disease took her body over and she could only been kept alive for a few more days and in a lot of pain. They let her go."

The words were full of emptiness. And it sunk in to Draco. Blaze really was gone, wasn't she? She was dead ...

Draco didn't say anything. He wanted to scream it wasn't true, anything, but he knew it would mean nothing. Blaze was gone. A girl he had known for four years ... A fellow Slytherin ... the girl he had tried to save but couldn't. He couldn't believe it was happening. Could it be a fact that Blaze was no longer alive?

Draco sat down. He was sweating and shaking. It would be all right. He needed just a moment to understand what was going on. Blaze had been taken to the hospital and now ... Now, she wasn't alive. Was that what Pansy was attempting to tell him? Yes, of course it was. She would never have been this upset otherwise. Blaze was gone and she wasn't coming back ...

"You're sure?" he said quite softly, silently begging for some kind of mistake.

"Of course I am!" she yelled at him, sounding angry now, and she stormed out. Draco attempted to call her back unsuccessfully. Draco didn't like being alone at a moment like this. Blaze was never coming back ...

Chills were running through his body. But why did he feel so bad? It wasn't as though he had very many fond memories of Blaze; he had never taken the chance to get to know her very well. In fact he had found her quite unappealing ... Yes, so there was no real reason to be upset. Or at least Draco tried to convince himself of this. It didn't help very much.

Draco was lost in thought. He had tried so hard to do what he would have done before Harry. He tried so hard to simply shut out the memories of the incident in the classroom and run away from it. Now, the memory shined brighter than anything else possibly could. Someone's live had been taken because of it. Draco felt so panicked and upset and so ... unable.

And he remembered what he was actually supposed to be doing. He should have left by now, headed to meet Harry. He had been caught up in a crisis, though, and Harry hadn't even been on the mind for once. A fellow peer of his was dead. He would have to be the one to tell Harry. Suddenly, Draco felt so angry. It was so terrible ...so unfair ... The incident should have never happened! Now so many would suffer because of it. And they hadn't even intended to kill Blaze.

Draco thought to himself, closed his eyes for a moment. He shouldn't be sitting there, terribly upset. It was a war after all. These things would happen and he would have to accept it. Of course it wasn't pleasant. But it wasn't too much of a surprise. Draco had immaturely assumed Blaze would be fine as she had been hospitalized. Childishly, he had barely given the idea of her not having a full recovery much thought.

Draco contained himself. He simply needed to keep it out of his head for a while, and he would be all right. I mean, what difference did it truly make? Draco was leaving; he was going to get away from it all. He wasn't going to be seeing Blaze anyway. I mean the sickly truth of it was horrible, but it really didn't affect Draco's reality either way. It was a horrible state of mind to be in, and Draco knew this, but it kept him a bit calm.

Draco looked at his watch. The minutes ticked by and he needed to go see Harry. It would be odd if he was suddenly late. Draco quickly collected his things, took one final look around the room he had vacated in for over four years, and walked out. It was time to go. And still, Blaze was on the mind ...

He shut it out. What would his father say if he saw him, sulking over someone like this that wasn't himself or perhaps a family member? But then, why would what his father thought matter to him anymore? That was a life he had left behind ... But did it matter? The method in which one was raised would always affect someone in some way or another. Of course, none of this would have happened if it wasn't partly due to his father .... This he was sure of ... But there was nothing he could do.

Harry stared at Draco, trying to smile. He didn't look the same somehow. He looked very pale, unhappy, and perhaps sickly. Harry rarely saw Draco like this, it didn't look right. In reality, it looked quite frightening. Harry didn't like it at all. There was most definitely something wrong, and Harry wondered how soon he would know, and just how bad it was.

"Draco, what is it?" he asked, sounding most likely much too frightened by his tone.

"Nothing, Harry, nothing," he responded, and now he was smiling widely, as though nothing made him happier than that particular situation. "I can't wait to take you to Godric's Hollow."

"Right ..." Harry said awkwardly, and he looked at Draco suspiciously purposely, hopefully leading to a confession. But it was obvious Draco pretended to take no notice at all. But it only made it more obvious to Harry that something was certainly wrong. Draco, however, didn't seem to think Harry needed to know at the present. Of course, Harry was persistent. "Draco, something's wrong."

"Mount your broom, Harry!" Draco said cheerfully, as though he had not heard him. It was so strange. Draco would normally show anger, not false happiness. Yes something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. "Harry, what are you waiting on?"

Harry had been in a pensive state for a moment, and then he looked at Draco. He would have to play along for a while, he supposed. He suppressed a smile, and did as Draco told him to do.

"I'm ready," Harry said.

Draco flew much ahead of Harry, not talking to him at all, unless giving a directional order. He had definitely shut earlier events out of his mind, but he somehow remained a bit uneasy. He felt he needed space to himself, and without saying much to Harry, he somehow managed to get it. He felt this was justified. There was no need for conversation anyway.

Draco thought a lot on the ride to Godric's Hollow. He knew exactly where it was. In fact, according to his father, he had been there once. It was years ago. In fact, it had been just a few short months after the death of the Potters. Obviously, Draco held no recollection of the experience. Apparently, his father had taken him to collect evidence of the Dark's Lord's downfall ...

But he had known where Godric's Hollow was for years. His father had had maps around his house. And whenever he spoke of the downfall of the Dark Lord, he always began in the same way. 'It all began in a town five miles out of Brixton ..." and so it went. Draco, fascinated with the dark arts as a child, always vowed to visit it one day to see for himself what could possibly bring something as powerful as the Dark Lord to oblivion.

But why had no one ever taken Harry to his former home? Why had Harry never asked? Had it been Draco, he would have ensured he would have visited it. It held a former life that Harry remained ignorant to. This in itself was unfair. His parents' home was there .... Their burial spot .... Their things .... His things ...

And now they were right above the town. Draco began slowing down a bit and he knew that Harry must know now where it was. It was quite dark down, but they had a great view of the town. Draco saw the tiny church from above ... The houses (He began to guess which might have been Harry's) .... The courthouse .... The park .... And of course, perhaps the most important place, the cemetery. It was so normal from up above. It was a very small muggle town. The mysterious murder of the Potters had probably been the most interesting thing to them.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Draco finally spoke to Harry, calmly, and unthreateningly. "This is your past."

Harry couldn't believe he was actually there, in his hometown. Draco held his hand. It was so dark no one could see them. Harry just surveyed the area as Draco took the lead. He didn't speak at all, but simply looked around in complete awe. It looked so beautiful to him .... But of course, he couldn't imagine a situation in his mind where it wouldn't. He always knew it would be apparent to him.

Draco stopped in the middle of the road and unfolded a sheet of paper from his pocket and showed it to Harry quietly.

The former residence of the deceased of Lily and James Potter lies on 143 River Road.

And ironically enough, Harry looked at the street Draco then pulled him onto and It was River Road. So this was it, he was finally going to see the home of his parents. Harry shut his eyes momentarily. He was beyond excited, but he was nervous and anxious and somehow frightened of what he would see. But either way he could contain himself no longer and looked at 143 River Road.

There was an iron gate blocking entrance. Beyond the gate lied a three story home, painted a beautiful cream color, and the house looked as though it had been well kept since no one had vacated it in the past fourteen years or so. It looked so comfortable, so lovely. It was an odd feeling looking at his former home as he had no real memory of any of it.

He smiled so happily, just staring at it, with Draco behind him, also surveying the surroundings. He wanted to run inside, seeing everything. He could only imagine how much was left, but he wanted to see anything and everything he could. What would he learn?

"Who's there?" bellowed a loud voice of a woman. Harry turned on a reflex and saw a woman who looked under thirty with auburn hair and a slim figure. "Who are you?"

She sounded very alert and angry. Harry, scared yet containing it completely responded with the truth. "Harry Potter." Perhaps it would save him.

She looked completely awed and shocked and she simply stood there for a moment, not blinking, completely stunned. After a bit, she smiled sadly at him.

"I knew you would come back one day, Harry," she said. "Your mum was my best friend."

Chills ran through his body in such a surprise. His mother's best friend? He felt so lucky, so joyous to be meeting her. And a desperation ran through him. What could she tell him? He yearned to learn anything ...

"You knew my mother?" he said, not able to contain his plea for information. "Is there anything you could tell me? Please."

He was begging but he did not care.

Once again, she looked at him very sadly. "She was so kind ... So loyal ... So beautiful, and she loved that paino of hers."

"My mother played piano?" no one had ever told him this. Harry realized though he had felt he had known his parents as such wonderful people before, there was so little he truly knew. But now there was someone who would tell him. Someone who wouldn't treat him as a child and block out so much.

"Heavens, no one has told you? She was an amazing pianist. I keep the house up in their memory, Dumbledore asked me to," she said. "My name is Jillian Chase."

"You know Dumbledore? Are you a witch?" Draco spoke for the first time.

"No, but I was Lily's best friend and I was trusted," Jill said. "I want to show you inside."

Draco felt positively happy for Harry. It was his time, and he wanted Harry to enjoy it as much as he could. He was visiting his parent's home. As they went room to room, looking at pictures and paintings of the Potters ... their furniture, things most people wouldn't care about, Harry was positively amazed. Draco couldn't recall ever seeing him so happy in his life. It was most wonderful.

And then they went to Lily's music room. It looked very cozy. There was a small couch next to a furnished window, a small closet and then of course, an expensive looking antique piano. Draco had expected an old dusty item, but it looked positively new. Harry brightened at it as he ran to touch and enjoy it so wonderfully. Jill was getting something out of the closet.

Jill took a vinyl and record player out and as Draco asked what it was, she simply smiled to herself as silently tears flowed down her eyes, and they waited eagerly. And once the record began, what followed was a sad sounding piano piece, obviously done by Lily. It sounded a bit rough, but the talent was there. It reminded Draco of the death of soldiers at sea ... It sounded beautiful yet so devastation. Draco looked over at Harry, who was smiling like a happy child.

And a male voice began apparent after a minute, singing along perfectly.

"Didn't anyone tell you your father sung?" Jill said, smiling through the tears.

Harry was in another world of his happiness, somewhere in a realm of completeness.

Next Jill showed them Harry's former baby room. It looked brand new; it was quite disturbing to Draco. This must have been the room where Lily had been killed. It gave Draco the chills. How anyone could continue to furnish the house disturbed Draco, but he did not say anything.

Jill retrieved a scrapbook from one of the shelves and showed them.

"Your baptism, something you must see," she said, crying more now. "I was told not to show you."

And Draco saw why. In every picture was Jill ... She was with Lily and Sirius and James ... She was holding Harry in some pictures .... Everyone looked joyful ... Draco had guessed perhaps this was the case but hadn't mentioned it as he didn't want make an uncomfortable situation.

"You were my godmother," Harry said, looking in shock to Jill. Draco stood silent.

"I wasn't allowed to meet you for security reasons," And at this Jill ran to Harry and hugged him.

They had left the house and now were at St. Matthew's Cemetery. Harry's heart beat so fast as he examined the graves of his parents, together.

Lily Eileen Potter

January 15, 1960 - October 31, 1981

James Maurice Potter

March 15, 1960 - October 31, 1981

And now Harry was flooded with more tears than Jill. Harry felt closer to his parents than he ever had. It was also so real now. The way he felt was indescribable. But he felt so complete.

"Mum .... Dad ...." Harry managed, but he turned to Draco in tears. "I can't run away from my past, Draco. We can't keep running. I have to avenge them, don't I? I thought it didn't matter for so long, but it does. It really does."

And Draco held Harry silently for a bit.