Rainbows and Redemption

Somewhere, there was an unfortunate buzzing noise that wouldn't go away, even after Harry Potter hit his alarm clock, mashed a few buttons on his mobile phone, and chucked the remote to his telly at Hedwig. Finally, after a few minutes, his flat grew silent, and just as Harry was breathing a sigh of relief, the insistent pounding at his poor, unsuspecting door began.

Grumbling, Harry jumped out of bed in frustration, hollering, "Shut the fuck up! I'm coming!" and winced, not only at the sound of his own voice, but at the fact that he'd stood up entirely too quickly and all of the blood in his body was rushing to his head. He paused, trying to clear away the inky blackness invading his corneas and began slowly walking to the door. He lived in a large loft on the top floor of a nondescript building in Muggle London. The open space suited the extremely claustrophobic Potter very well, who to this day refused to enter any cupboards whatsoever.

Reaching the still pounding door (or was that his headache?), Harry glanced into the peephole and was so shocked he almost had to lie down again.

"Malfoy?!"

"Open the bloody door, Potter. I'm trying to save you from eternal hellfire and damnation!"

Harry mused that it was a good thing he'd remembered to grab his wand off the nightstand before opening the door to a very agitated looking Draco Malfoy. At least, it appeared to be Draco Malfoy, although he was dressed rather oddly... he was sporting an outfit that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Mayflower.

"You know, Malfoy, there is a reason why we haven't seen one another since we left school. We hate each other. So what the bloody hell do you care whether or not I burn into cinders?"

Malfoy looked very smug and self-assured, as he pushed his way into the flat, looking around with disdain. The only place to sit down appeared to be a rather ugly, green floral print sofa that hadn't been hip since about 1972. He chose to stand instead, feeling as though he'd get his point across better that way.

"I've been born anew into a greater spirit, one of forgiveness and understanding, even towards fornicators like yourself." He winked. "Also, I thought it'd be rather brilliant on my part to save the Boy Most Likely to Burn in Hell Forever."

Harry coughed. "Malfoy, how did you even find me?! And what do you know about my fornication?"

"I have my ways," murmured Draco mysteriously. "And everyone knows of your fornication. It was all over The Prophet a few years ago, wasn't it? The shame of the saviour of the wizarding world you are, Potter. Hiding from everyone in this Muggle... place." He cringed as he looked around Harry's flat. It wasn't even a proper flat. It was just one big room.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't have to listen to this. This is my home, and whoever I choose to shag is my own bloody business. And I'm not hiding, exactly. It's more like escaping. From the likes of you, in fact! Besides, you're just jealous, because Blaise told you I'd given him the best blowjob of his life, and I wouldn't even touch you!"

Draco clenched his fists, blushing furiously. This was just too much. "Jealous?! Of you?! I don't think so, Potter. I'm straight. Besides, I'm not to engage in any sexual acts, snogging or coupling or... whatever... until I've tied the knot with a nice, Christian girl."

Harry snorted. "You're about as straight as a swine's tail, and you're so far in the closet you don't know your coat hangers from your elbow. And what is up with these clothes?"

Draco smiled beatifically. "My attire, taken from a simpler time-"

"-when they used to burn blokes like us-"

Draco glared. "-brings me closer to Jesus," he finished rather dramatically, clasping his hands and raising his eyes heavenward.

"Riiight. And when did pureblood wizards start practicing Muggle religion, then?" Harry's headache was beginning to clear up and he was secretly rather enjoying this odd encounter.

Draco looked uncomfortable. "Well, you see, after I chose not to become a rabid Eater of Death, Father rather unceremoniously told me to 'get the fuck out and move in with the Muggles if I liked them so much.' I was forbidden to ever come within 50 kilometers of Malfoy Manor, and if I was spotted by a Death Eater, I was to be immediately killed on the spot. I had nowhere to go and knew nothing of the Muggles' primitive lifestyle, so I wandered aimlessly around London for a bit, crying piteously and hoping for some sort of sign to direct me where to go."

"Could you be any more clichéd or dramatic, Malfoy?" asked Harry, attempting to smother the laugh that was threatening to escape his lips. It came out as more of a gurgle instead, and Draco looked at him rather strangely before pointedly ignoring his comment and resuming his tale.

"Suddenly, I saw this group of odd-looking Muggles even more odd-looking than usual, I should say, and they were gathered on a sidewalk, and they were singing. Naturally, I had to move closer to observe this strange behaviour, and I began to make out the words. Shall I sing them for you?"

Harry blinked, sinking down into his sofa, worn down to maximum comfort after years of use. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course not! Besides, what's a story without a soundtrack? One needs a bit of background noise to break the monotony." He paused, looking thoughtful. "You don't happen to have a guitar on hand, do you?"

Harry shook his head. The laughter was threatening to return, and this time it came out as more of a squeak. "Never did pick up an instrument," he replied, reckoning his voice sounded a bit like the time Ron had made him inhale the Helium.

Draco looked disappointed. "Ah, well. I'll just have to sing a capello." He hummed, presumably to tune his voice, and began to sing:

Fight the good fight with all thy might;
Christ is thy strength, and Christ thy right;
lay hold on life, and it shall be
thy joy and crown eternally.

Run the straight race through God's good grace,
lift up thine eyes, and seek his face;
life with its way before us lies;
Christ is the path, and Christ the prize.

Cast care aside, lean on thy guide;
his boundless mercy will provide;
trust, and thy trusting soul shall prove
Christ is its life, and Christ its love.

Faint not nor fear, his arms are near;
he changeth not, and thou art dear;
only believe, and thou shalt see
that Christ is all in all to thee.

He cleared his voice, looking over to see if Potter was suitably impressed. Instead, his face was contorted in a rather disconcerting way, almost as though he'd swallowed the proverbial fly.

Draco pressed on, no longer looking at Potter, but through the window, towards the sky. Unfortunately, the view was marred by a pair of ill-placed buildings and a large billboard reading, "Grab lunch by the meatballs! Try our newest sub today!" Draco immediately shot his head back into the direction of Potter, who appeared to have calmed down a bit.

"As I was saying. I heard this beautiful Muggle music, and I tell you Potter, I was moved. Utterly moved. My heart lifted with joy, and I thought, 'This is it! This is my sign!' So I stood, transfixed, until the hymn ended and a man who appeared to be in charge addressed the crowd, saying, 'Today is your day to embrace our Saviour! Throw aside your abominable lifestyle and enter into the Father's House!' I looked around and noticed everyone moving quickly past, their eyes on the pavement below. I didn't understand how they could ignore this man's call! 'I'll join!' I cried. 'Save me!' And so my introduction to Jesus began."

Harry didn't know what to say, couldn't even begin to form any sort of coherent thought beyond, "this is so fucked up."

And so he said it aloud, and Draco glared, replying, "You would say that, you fornicator and embodiment of evil, you."

"I'm the embodiment of evil?! Me?! I bloody well saved your good-for-nothing Jesus freak arse and offed Voldemort with my mad wizarding skills. So I don't even want to hear it."

Shaking his head sadly, Draco murmered, "You're hiding behind excuses. The Bible clearly states-"

"I don't give a shite! The Dursleys were the biggest hypocrites I know, those homophobic bastards. They dragged Dudley and me to church every Sunday, Petunia in her best clothes, whispering about the various 'sins' of the congregation. And then she took us back home and threw me back under the stairs to keep me from defiling her perfect family with my strange ways. And I never understood why, until I received my Hogwarts letter and learned the truth!" Harry stood up, green eyes flashing. "And then when I snogged Seamus Finnigan in an abandoned classroom 6th year, I knew for sure that I really was a freak! And I didn't. Bloody. Care. I was proud to be different, to be as far from what was expected of me as possible."

And then Harry Potter did something even more unexpected. He reached over and grabbed Malfoy's Puritan-inspired arse, pushing him forward. Harry smiled into the face of the man who had been taunting him for years and, quite enthusiastically, began snogging the Jesus right out of him.

Draco felt as though he was drowning. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but he thought if anything, at least Potter would save him.

Harry pulled away, breathing heavily. "Well?"

There was a definite lack of coherent response from the rather ravished-looking Draco. "Ngh." He tried again. "Bwivel." He gave up and sank to the floor rather despairingly.

Finally, after a few minutes, he whispered, "You mean, I've been wearing these horrid clothes for no reason? That I've been suppressing my secret sexual desires for so long that I needed to find a way to release all of my frustration? That I purposefully chose a religion that would condemn both my wizarding self as well as my inherent flaming queerness?"

Harry lowered himself to Draco's level, as one might do with a small child, and looked at him pointedly. "Have you been watching Dr. Phil? Because that was a rather sudden, insightful analysis coming from a person who just serenaded me with 'Christ is the path, and Christ the prize.'"

Draco peered over at Harry. "Maybe I chose the wrong path. Can I go down your path instead? The one with the rainbow at the end?"

"Well, unfortunately, this isn't The Little Mermaid, so I can't quite conjure you a rainbow... the Ministry tends to get angry when wizards run about changing weather patterns. I can, however, take you to the Gay Pride parade next year and allow the drag queens to show you the true path."

"Will there be rainbows?" Draco looked rather concerned about this.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. "Oh yes, there will definitely be rainbows."

-end-