Rating:
15
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Slash
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 10/22/2006
Updated: 01/26/2009
Words: 143,258
Chapters: 29
Hits: 81,858

Black Sheep

Jackie Stevens

Story Summary:
"Black sheep is a derogatory colloquialism in the English language meaning an outsider or one who is different in a way which others disapprove of. This can be someone who has been shunned by others, or one who has chosen to be an outsider, due to actions and aims that separate them from the rest of the people or 'flock.'"

Chapter 28 - In Which There Are Lies

Chapter Summary:
Last chapter! Just an epilogue to go, folks!
Posted:
01/26/2009
Hits:
1,284

Harry and Draco sat opposite each other in strained silence. Draco watched Harry carefully as he stared at the small table between them. The Aurors had been kind enough to give them some time alone to think.

He watched as Harry's eyes darted up to look at him and then skittered away. "So what do you think?" Harry asked at last.

Draco considered his words for a moment, then he shrugged in a way that he knew would look natural to Harry. "I think I'm not very surprised. I didn't expect them to simply let me walk out of Azkaban. Again."

"No, I mean..." Harry finally worked up the courage to meet Draco's eyes unflinchingly. "What do you think of their offer? Of forgetting?"

Giving an artfully subtle smirk, with just the right hint of patronizing and hurtful disappointment, Draco answered, "What do you expect me to say? That I'd rather stay in Azkaban? That the precious memories of my father's abuse, my mother's murder, and the things I did and had done to me as a Death Eater are worth more to me than a life away from Dementors?"

That silenced Harry, of course. Draco continued, caught up in his own riotous thoughts, "I could say I don't know what I'd be if I weren't a wizard. But of course I do - I'm not a wizard now. The only difference would be that I wouldn't know what I'm missing anymore."

Harry took a shaky breath. "So you think you'd be happier? You would do it?"

Draco flinched slightly. He was lashing out but against the wrong person. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his last minutes with Harry. He didn't mean to leave Harry questioning this decision for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath and let go. "Look," he said, in a quiet, reasonable tone. "Answer me one question. You still have to answer me truthfully." He gave Harry a hint of a smile in encouragement. "You remember the game. So tell me: do you love me?"

Harry looked horrified, but Draco knew he would answer truthfully. Those green eyes drifted downwards, shuttered by his thick lashes. "They asked me that. With the Veritaserum. I said no."

The small smile stayed fixed on Draco's face. If he really could forget, he would willingly forget his whole life, just to forget this moment too. But he wasn't on Veritaserum and he didn't have to obey the rules of any game, so he could still lie: "Me, too."

Hoping no soft-hearted fool like Longbottom would out him, he carried on. "This isn't some epoch-making love affair worth throwing your life away for--"

"What life?" Harry interrupted bleakly.

Waving a hand, Draco forged on. "No, you have a life, Potter. You have friends, possibilities, even an insane, hot stalker. This was just a dalliance between you and me. Just a fling. How long do you think it would have been before we were at each others throat's again?" Oh, god, take me back to Azkaban now, he thought as he smiled wryly at Harry. It can't be worse than this.

Then he continued to destroy the only thing he cared about - and with it, his last hope. "Just let it go," he told Harry firmly. "You and I - we were never going to amount to anything. Just go and don't look back."

Harry was gaping at him wordlessly. Draco could see that he wanted to deny it, that he wanted to promise that they were worth it - but he couldn't. "That's right," Draco said softly. "You know it as well as I do." He stood up and held out his pale, cold hand. It didn't even tremble. He said, "It's been a pleasure, Harry Potter."

In a daze, Harry stood up and took that hand. Then he wrapped his other hand around it as well. He stood there, clinging to that last piece of Draco.

Nearly grimacing as he stared at those hands holding his, Draco admitted weakly, "Well, it hasn't all been a pleasure." He twisted his lips into a bland smile. "But it's been enough." He met Harry's bewildered gaze head on. "It's enough, Harry."

The door swung open. The Aurors who had been watching through the charmed wall had obviously thought that time was up. Draco pulled his hands from Harry's grip and stepped back. One of the Aurors came and took Harry by the arm, leading him out of the small, white room. He watched Draco until the last possible moment, as the door shut between them.





In another white room, Hermione was waiting uneasily. Her head shot up when the door opened and Harry staggered in. His Auror escort pushed him into the room and then shut the door.

"Harry," she said in a pained tone as she jumped up to help him to a seat. "What happened? What did he say?"

Looking wan in the harsh lights, Harry said dully, "He told me it was enough." He looked down at his hands. "He shook my hand and then he told me it was enough."

Hermione sighed in relief. For once, Malfoy had done the right thing, it seemed. She grabbed Harry's hands and said softly, "Then we'll give Neville your answer, Harry. Don't worry - you're making the right decision."

He looked at her. "I haven't made any decision or given any answer," he said softly. "Draco may have said it's enough, but that's his answer, not mine."

"No, Harry," Hermione said desperately, "no, don't do this - don't even consider--" She let go of his hands to grab his face, forcing him to stare at her, though he hadn't even tried to turn away. "Malfoy doesn't want it! There's nothing left to consider!"

Harry smiled painfully. "Wouldn't you have told me the same thing, if it were you? Wouldn't you tell me not to throw my life away for you?"

Her hands slipped from his open face. "You don't mean..." she whispered.

"I mean," he said, sighing, "that I need to think."

Hermione stumbled back and sat heavily in one of the uncomfortable white chairs. The moulded plastic was unforgiving.

She had agreed to this. When she'd had no choice but to be honest with herself, she had known that it was no longer up to her to interfere with Harry's life. They would always be friends, based on what they had shared in their youth, but she knew that they had grown apart and that he had his own life utterly independent of her now. She would respect his decisions - once he'd made them. But until he had decided, she could still try to ensure that he was making the best decisions possible. She tried to sound reasonable as she said in a placating tone, "Harry, you can't really be considering it, though, right? To give up your whole life, your self, for a roll in the sack?"

He looked thoughtful as he sat down as well. He looked at Hermione and she wanted to flinch away from the intensity in his piercing stare. "Tell me," he said at last, "how would you leave anyone you knew - let alone anyone you'd cared enough about to be intimate with - to slowly lose their mind in Azkaban? How would you live every day, knowing that you had sacrificed someone else's life for your own - someone you cared about, even - someone you l--" He stopped suddenly and Hermione scrambled in her mind for an answer that would convince him.

Her massive brain, her impeccable logic, the tomes of knowledge she had absorbed - they all failed her and as she struggled for words, Harry continued with words that stopped her in her tracks. "You've never killed anyone, Hermione."

He looked at her with an expression that could have been pity for her or for himself. "All those years that you and Ron went face to face with Death Eaters for me, you stuck to your stunning spells and disarming and immobilising. No matter how much you hated the Death Eaters, you never even tried to kill any one of them."

Harry smiled sadly. "I know that they were horrible people. I know that Voldemort was more a monster than a person. I know that he had to be stopped. But when I murdered him," Harry said and he looked straight at her, "and of course it was murder. I killed him. I chose for him to die for myself to live." Hermione was staring at him silently, transfixed. "And I hated him, Hermione. I really did. For my parents, for Sirius, for Ron, and mostly for myself. For making me into what I was." He reached out and took Hermione's hands gently. "Do you understand? I hated him and yet killing him nearly destroyed me. I've never been able to forget it for a day. If you can understand even a little what that's like, then imagine what it would be like to kill someone I don't hate. Not even a little." He sighed and smiled weakly. "Someone who feels as necessary to me as air."

"Then you're going to -" she asked in a choked voice.

"Hermione, please!" He chided her with almost a hint of a smile. "I told you, I haven't made any decision yet. I'm just trying to explain to you what is going through my head right now. I want you to understand, whatever decision I make, because either way it seems I'm going to be left a mess of a person."

Hermione pulled one of her hands free to cover her face, scrubbing away the tears that were leaking from her eyes. "Yeah," she admitted through her tears, "I think that's probably true." She watched Harry as he evenly met her eyes. Gnawing on her lip for a long moment, she stopped at last and whispered what she was thinking. "But I feel like you've already decided."

He said softly, "There are some places I'd like to go."





Neville, Hermione and Harry rode the elevator in heavy silence, until Harry's hand shot out and he stabbed the button for the seventh level. Neville, who had been assigned as their minder, looked at him in consternation and Harry said simply, "There's someone I want to see."

The doors slid open on Level Seven and Harry glanced at the signboard before striding down the left hallway towards the Ludicrous Patents Office. Neville and Hermione followed after him, having little choice. They caught the door to the office just as it was swinging shut from Harry's entrance, and they arrived behind him just in time to hear him say, "I'm sorry for the intrusion, but is Matilda Bolger available?"

A mousy young woman jumped up from a nearly invisible desk in the far corner. She rushed over at nearly a run and said smartly, "Of course, Mr Potter. What can I do for you this time?"

Harry smiled at her, glad to see that she was as charmingly cheeky as he remembered. He said ruefully, "If I'm lucky, I'll never have to visit this bloody building again, but before I leave, I wanted to thank you again for all of your help." He took her hand warmly and gave her a peck on the cheek, genuinely grinning as a wave of shock went through the office. It was positively something Malfoy would have done and he was pretty certain no one would ever overlook Matilda in the same way again, and that was enough to satisfy him. He excused himself and, together with his escorts, left the room to buzz in excited gossip about how their tea lady knew Professor Hermione Granger, Inspector Longbottom, and the Chosen One himself, Harry Potter.





Less than ten minutes later, the three of them were standing mutely in front of Number 4, Privet Drive, staring at the wonders of Muggle suburbia. Neville had Apparated them over, since both Harry's and Hermione's wands had been temporarily confiscated "just as a precaution." Now he stood in wonderment in front of a row of Muggle houses, each of which looked exactly like the last. "How does anyone known which one is theirs?" he asked absently.

"The numbers help," Hermione answered, looking at Harry and not him. "Are you going to go in?"

Harry stared at the house where his presence had been barely tolerated for ten years. "No," he said softly, "I don't think so. I don't really want to talk to them. I just wanted to see it, somehow." His eyes roved over the familiar house. It seemed smaller than he remembered it. "It was never my home. They never even gave me my own room. They hid me in a cupboard. They made me live and sleep in a cupboard. From the time I was one until I was eleven. If I wasn't cooking or cleaning for them, I was supposed to stay in there, out of sight. If I didn't, my uncle would..."

He stopped speaking. With a sigh, he said aloud what he'd always known. "They never loved me. They never even cared if I lived or died." After several moments, he said, "Let's go."





They Apparated to the spot just outside the gates of Hogwarts, just a step outside of the wards. Hermione and Neville looked to Harry expectantly, wondering what he thought about this stop on his trip down memory lane. But he didn't say a word aloud.

He gazed across the school grounds to the castle, small and hazy in the distance. He'd lived in the castle almost half as long as he had at the Dursleys', and yet there were so many more memories left in this place. In there were his first friends, his first Christmas presents, his first kiss, and his first love. There he had met Malfoy nearly every day for six years. There he had spent delirious days and nights with him for the past weeks. There he had first come face to face with the spectre of Voldemort that had survived killing his family. There he had met suspicion and alienation. There he had watched Lupin be defeated by society's prejudices. There he had been Portkeyed away to see the first of his friends killed. There he had carved hateful words into his own skin. There he had watched Dumbledore die.





They were in a wild forest in Norfolk. Neville hadn't at first realised what the place was when Harry had told him where to go, but then an odd sense of familiarity had spurred his memory on: this was where they had found Voldemort's body. Or what was left of it.

This time, Harry started talking immediately, as if to fill the silence. "I've never told anyone just what happened. I've never even talked about that night. Not even to Malfoy." He looked around at the trees. "It wasn't just Voldemort, of course. He'd never face me without his Deatheaters around him to witness it." Then Harry told them about the Death Eaters he had killed and how. Neville listened patiently, having seen and heard it all in his line of work. Hermione grew more and more disturbed, her hand clasped over her mouth to keep down the scream that was fighting up her throat. She'd had no idea of the things that Harry had done.

"I had to take them out as quickly as possible. There were too many of them; I was outnumbered. The only way to get to Voldemort was to get rid of them. And I knew I couldn't lose this chance to stop Voldemort at last. The Horcruxes had been destroyed, you and Ron were both out of the picture, and it was time to just let things end. Finally it was just him and me left. He looked furious and I think he considered Disapparating away. No one else would know, after all, and he could face me again someday when he had more support. But I think he still believed that I was no real match for him. So he came at me."

He knelt down and dug his fingers into the dirt. "Bellatrix Lestrange had taught me that to use the Unforgivables, you had to really mean it. I could finally mean it. He threw the Cruciatus curse and the Killing curse at me and I threw them right back at him. But our wands were still connected and we were even enough in strength that we could only waste our energy by throwing equal curses at each other. So I switched to minor spells. I lashed out at him with the Sectumsempra curse, the same curse I had learned from Snape and used on Malfoy in sixth year. He'd never seen it before, that much was obvious. I cast it again and again, before he could find a way to defend against it. I don't even know the counter-curse myself - only Snape did, before he died." Harry let the dirt fall through his fingers and returned to Voldemort's end. "He was covered in blood. He couldn't even stand. The curse had cut through his flesh and his muscles. He finally collapsed and he bled to death in this forest, surrounded by the bodies of his followers."

Harry brushed the dirt from his fingers, though they still weren't completely clean. "He died an utterly physical death. No mystic slipups or loopholes to allow him to come back this time. He's just dead."





"What is this place?" Hermione yelled over the wind.

"It's a tor," Harry called back as they stood on top of the lone hill in Glastonbury. That was all he said, though, and he slowly lifted his arms. He held them out, stretching them out as wide as he could, and he let his head fall back. His eyes fell shut and all he was aware of was the feeling of the wind moving around him. He turned his head to the side, still seeing in his mind the image of Draco standing there, looking as if he would fly away and disappear into the wind. That day, just a month ago, he had reached out and grabbed the man, unable to watch him disappear, and Draco had clung to him in return. Opening his eyes to the empty sky above him, Harry took a deep breath and then he let go.