A Stranger Garden

Chapter 18.

2075

As Draco reflected on what his life had become lately, he realised that the last decade had been the most intensely, deeply satisfying of his entire life.

It had taken Harry a year to admit he was still in love with Draco and always had been, even though he'd been so crushed at what he saw as the betrayal. But since that time, they had become so much closer. They made a point of always being unfailingly honest with each other. It had led to arguments, yes, but it had also led to understanding and acceptance and complete commitment to each other, despite that Draco was a portrait and Harry a living, breathing human being.

He was an ageing human though and the last decade had seen some pretty dramatic physical changes in Harry. The arm he'd lost back in second year at school had developed arthritis in the shoulder and elbow and was almost completely unusable now, only kept slightly mobile by the administration of pain potions. Harry was entirely grey, though he still had a full head of hair, and his face was decorated with age spots and wrinkles alike.

At the same time, Draco didn't think he'd ever seen Harry so happy. Not any of the weddings of his children or the births of his grandchildren had been able to settle the inner core of self-consciousness that Harry had always carried. Not until now.

Draco felt rightfully proud that he'd had something to do with that. It wasn't all him, though. Weasley had a change of heart and he and Harry were back to being best mates again and, while Draco had loads of jealous moments where he hated the Weasel for being able to go places with Harry and hug him and be with him, in the end he knew Harry loved him, because Harry always came home to him. Always.

Al and Scorpius also had a big influence on Harry's happiness. They ran the Manor for him and they loved him fiercely, ensuring he took his medication, lived healthy and even accompanied him on trips. The trips that used to be for work were now holidays because Harry had retired from the museum and appointed a replacement in the person of young Draco. It appeared a perfect fit, as being the manager of the museum allowed Draco the freedom to pursue his art at the same time. And apparently he loved his job and was working on a new wing, designing the artwork himself.

There were several new paintings hanging in Draco's ballroom now. Harry had decided that he needed a thatched cottage in Wales, set in the countryside, far from anyone. It was very picturesque with horses in the paddock and some chickens and ducks in pens. Draco wondered why anyone would want chickens and ducks but Harry appeared to like them so he said nothing.

One of Draco's favourite paintings was the one of Stonehenge. Even though it was a painting, Draco still felt the thrill of it being a magical place every time he stepped through to it. He loved walking around it, through the huge stones or standing back to take in the whole picture. Sometimes he would sit quietly on the grass, just basking in the purely magical sensation of the place, not knowing if it was a quality of the painting or if he was going on memory.

2085

Harry's advancing years made it more difficult for him to get around easily and often he would fall asleep on the couch while they were talking. When that happened, Draco would let Harry sleep and he'd sit wherever was the closest he could get to his side and just watch him. Harry's face didn't change much in sleep; he was such an open, relaxed man these days that there wasn't much tension to ease when he slept.

He'd been away for the past three days. He hadn't left word with Draco as to why, but as Draco checked the dungeon every hour with no sign of Harry waking, he knew that Harry was still alive. It didn't rule out that he might be sick, though, and so Draco fretted constantly and to the point where Kitty got fed up with him and left to go menace the chickens in the countryside.

When Harry wandered in eventually, carrying yet another painting, Draco was all ready to berate him for making him worry just for a painting, and then he saw how haggard and drawn Harry looked.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Ginny died," he replied flatly.

"Oh." Draco wasn't sure how to react. He knew there was no love lost between them and that they'd barely had any contact the last half century. But she was still the mother of his children and they'd had a life together at one point.

"You don't have to sound sorry. I don't particularly care that she's gone. We've been expecting it for years. Last Lily heard, her liver was shot because of all the potions she'd been taking to stay young and all the alcohol she'd been drinking."

"So is that what happened?"

Harry shook his head. "They found her in an hotel room in Rio. All reports said that she'd spent the week partying with the rich boys over there. Drugs, alcohol, you name it. According to the hotel manager she'd been on a week long binge, propositioned him several times and been physically restrained from molesting a seventeen-year-old."

"Merlin, Harry, how awful for you."

"Oh, I don't care about me, I worry about the children."

"They're adults, Harry, with grandchildren of their own, they aren't going to be mentally scarred by that."

"Perhaps not," Harry agreed reluctantly.

"Remember that talk we had about you being responsible for the whole world?"

"Yes, I know." Harry frowned and stiffly lowered himself onto the couch.

"Your children are adults, Ginny was an adult. It is not your fault that she turned out like she did and it is no longer your place to take responsibility for what your children think. Let it go."

"Yes, Draco. God, stop mothering me!" Harry burst out.

Damn, now what had he done? "So if you don't care that she's gone and you aren't going to feel guilty and concerned about what your kids think, then what is it?"

"It's the way she died. I don't understand why she became like that. She was never that sort before we got divorced. I wonder if..."

"Stop that right now! Don't you dare..."

"I'm not!" Harry yelled. "I'm just thinking aloud. I'm not saying it was my fault, I am not saying me or our divorce was responsible, I know she must be accountable for her own decisions, I know that, all right?"

"All right, what then?"

"I don't think anyone should die like that. I just wonder if we'd all made more of an effort with her it would have made a difference. There's no misplaced guilt here, I promise, just normal wondering."

"It's a horrible way to go, I agree."

"It made me think about things," Harry said, visibly subsiding.

"It did?"

Harry nodded and Draco had no idea where this was going.

"Thinking about life and the afterlife. I'm not sure I believe in it. I want to, I want to think that somewhere everyone I loved; Mum and Dad, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Hermione, Andromeda...they're all waiting for me. Makes me wonder that if there is an afterlife if you'll be there, too."

"I have to admit I never thought of that."

It was an odd thought, really, that there'd be one of him in the afterlife hating Harry with every ounce of his being and Harry loving him with all his soul. How heartbreaking.

"I think if there is such a place, then I won't be there," Draco said softly. "Surely a place like that would only be for the deserving and I certainly wouldn't belong with all the people you loved."

"Maybe there's nothing. Maybe you're just dead," Harry said tiredly, then sighed and stood up.

"When I was in Rio, there was one night I just had to get out of that hotel. For some reason it felt cloying and claustrophobic. I felt like Ginny was clawing her way inside my skull and I couldn't shake it, so I went walking and ended up here."

Harry turned the painting around and Draco gasped. There, spread out across the canvas were all the lights of Rio, shining in the near dark against a brilliant orange sky.

"That's beautiful, Harry."

"It is, isn't it? It's not one I had purposely commissioned, it's one I found in a wizarding gallery and purchased because I wanted it immediately."

"What happened there?"

"Nothing momentous. I just found respite from the thought of Ginny dying like that. It was peaceful and huge and reminded me how insignificant we all are in this big world. It reminded me how much I want to share myself with you. I wanted to rush home right away and see you because I suddenly felt lost without you."

"Oh, Harry..."

"Are you absolutely certain that I'm going to wake in that painting?" Harry's worried face pleaded with Draco's for confirmation.

"Absolutely," Draco whispered, nodding his head and smiling reassuringly. He breathed easier when Harry relaxed and exhaled deeply.

"Were you worried that you wouldn't?"

Harry nodded. "I think...whether there is an afterlife or not, as long as I know part of me will be with you, then I think I can face anything."

Draco was very moved. They'd spoken of love and wanting to be together before, many times, but this was the first time Harry had let fear direct the conversation.

"Harry, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"What do you mean?" Harry's honest but tired eyes met his easily. No, he wasn't hiding anything.

"I thought for a moment you were pulling your typical Gryffindor stunt of not telling anyone when something is wrong."

Harry laughed. "No, I'd tell you. Let you laugh over the diminishing capacity of this old body."

"It's on your mind a lot though, isn't it? Dying."

"How can it not be?" Harry replied, moving to the wall and hanging the painting, using his wand to lift it into place.

Draco wished he could be jubilant that Harry was getting older and the time was drawing nigh when he would join him. And part of him was but whenever Harry spoke of his family, Draco saw how much they meant to him and how integral they were to his well-being. Draco had never seen him so content and only part of that was because he was happy with Draco. Essential to Harry's happiness was his family and if Harry died and joined Draco, then he would lose that part of his happiness. Therefore Draco was quite agreeable for things to remain as they were. For now. He liked seeing Harry this way.

"Yes, I see," Draco replied thoughtfully.

Harry stepped back and looked at the painting, making sure it was hanging just right. Then he turned and gave Draco a long look. Draco merely smiled at him and went to sit at the piano.

"I have to think about it," Harry persisted. "I'm not sure how long I have left."

"I understand." Perhaps now was the time to talk about dying. His hands played lightly over the keys, not really playing a tune, just a few bars. "Tell me how you'd want to go."

"I'd like to fall asleep listening to you play and then pass peacefully in my sleep," Harry said, a far off sound to his voice.

2090

Harry walked slowly but steadily along the Manor corridors, hearing the house settle for the evening. During the day, the Manor was abuzz with the sounds of great grandchildren careening around the place, the more strident voices of their parents and the amused sighs of their grandparents.

Ever since Harry had moved into the Manor, summer had been busy and full of family. He'd loved every minute of it, childish laughter and enthusiasm had chased away the dark, sinister corners of the past, leaving the house virtually preening with smug satisfaction at being full of joy and happiness at last.

Oh, there were arguments and fights and the odd broken nose or cut lip, but they were soon fixed by a quick spell and a lengthy chat to resolve differences. He'd spent years worried about this one or that one, but the Manor was home and he offered it as a safe haven for all his family. They had all lived here at one point.

Harry couldn't have asked for anything more.

Except...

Well, even that would be achievable soon.

Sooner rather than later, too, if he was reading his body correctly. Al had noticed his decline too and had initiated a system whereby he activated a charm when he went into the ballroom to let them know where he was so they'd check on him every so often.

When he'd told Draco, he had breathed a sigh of relief, saying that he was glad someone would check occasionally, because he hated to think of what would happen if Harry died in the ballroom and no one thought to look for him for a long time. Draco couldn't bear to think of Harry alone in the room with no way of being able to let anyone know what had happened.

Harry grudgingly accepted being watched over after that and he remembered to activate the charm when he entered Draco's ballroom.

Draco was seated in the lounge, reading a book and holding a brandy balloon, though he wasn't drinking. He looked up when Harry entered, smiling, pleased to see him.

"Harry, how are you this evening?"

"Aching and tired, tonight, Draco," he replied, lowering himself carefully onto the couch.

"The family all well?" Draco stood and moved to replace the book on the shelf and Harry envied him his freedom of movement, though he still took great pleasure in watching the way Draco's body moved.

"They are. One of Lily's grandchildren is getting married."

"I don't know how you can keep up with them. I never realised Potters were quite such prolific breeders."

Harry loved Draco's smirk, too, it had grown on him over the years. Which reminded him that he should see about ordering those engagement rings. Or had he already had them painted into a painting somewhere? Not that it mattered right now; he could see to it in the morning.

"I think it's the Weasley genes my kids inherited," he said smiling and feeling like his aches were disappearing just being in the same room as Draco.

"I guess there is something to thank them for after all."

Harry laughed. "You've changed your tune."

"About the Weasleys?"

"Hm, there was a time when you hated the very mention of their name."

"I haven't felt like that for the longest time," Draco reminded him.

"Hm? Really?" Harry relaxed back into the soft cushions of the couch. "You used to insult Molly on a regular basis."

"Merlin, Harry, even I can't remember back that far."

"Wasn't it yesterday?" Harry asked, yawning. He was really quite tired tonight.

"Are you quite all right?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, just a little tired. Al and Scorpius were all excited about bringing Serena home from the hospital today."

"That was sixty years ago."

"Was it? Huh. How time flies," Harry said, looking a little perplexed. Then he brightened. "I have an appointment to see Hermione tomorrow about this arm."

"You do?" Draco replied, frowning.

"Yes, she mentioned something about a new potion might be able to give me more movement."

"All right, Harry. H-hopefully it will work."

He looked at Draco and smiled, but Draco was looking at him with great sadness in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Harry. Nothing is wrong."

Good, Harry thought. How could anything possibly be wrong when he had this beautiful man to be with? "I love you, Draco," he said.

"I love you, too, Harry," Draco replied softly, so quietly that Harry barely heard him. "You rest, and we'll talk later after you've had a nap. I'll be here when you wake."

"All right, I am a bit tired. Will you play for me?"

"Of course." Harry could hear Draco's voice breaking, full of tears. Why was he upset? There was nothing wrong with him that a little nap wouldn't fix. He wanted to tell Draco not to worry, but the gentle notes of the piano lulled him to sleep.

.o0o.

Draco sat playing the piano for as long as he could sit still. The tears slid down his face while he played and dripped onto his shirt. He knew what was happening, it would have been hard not to know, but he couldn't leave until he was sure Harry was gone and could no longer hear him playing. If he still needed the music...if there was a chance he was merely sleeping...

After what felt like hours, but was probably only several minutes, the notes drifted away by themselves. His hands slowed over the keys and the echo of the music died away. Draco looked at the body of the man he loved laying so still on the couch. His heart was breaking because this great man, this man who was larger than life was now lost to the world. He looked so peaceful lying there, somehow the wrinkles and lines seemed to fade and he looked much younger than his years.

"Goodbye, my love," he whispered.

Not goodbye, he repeated in his head. Not goodbye, not goodbye...

Hello...

"Harry," he exhaled, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He gave one final look at his love on the couch and blew him a kiss. "I hope that wherever you are, you're happy now. I hope all your loved ones are there to meet you and they take you to them and forever hold you close. I have to go and meet the other you now. The one who gets to spend forever with me, the one I get to make eternally happy." He smiled sadly. "If you do happen to meet the other me in the afterlife, tell him that you've loved him for a long time and explain about us. That might make him come round."

Draco found it hard to leave Harry but he felt a pressing need to run to the dungeon so his Harry wouldn't wake alone. "I have to go, forgive me...Scorpius or Al will be along any second. I love you."

He took a few steps backwards, slowly as if unwilling to leave and then the need to be with his Harry, the unbounding joy of finally being able to be held by Harry, touched and kissed and loved by him, quickened his pace until he was running as fast as he could to the dungeon.

He had no idea how long it took to wake in portraits; for all he knew he could be waiting there for months, years, even. He only knew that he was going to sit there for as long as it took. Waiting.

But then what if it didn't work? What if the spells had been wrong and Harry could wake up in any of the hundreds of other portraits there must be of the Chosen One? What if the spells designed to keep Draco and Harry in the ballroom also worked to prevent Harry from entering it if he woke in a different portrait?

A hundred questions flew through Draco's mind in the blink of an eye as he ducked through from painting to painting.

What if he was confining himself to the dungeon forever waiting for Harry to wake when he never would?

Draco didn't care. He would wait as long as it took. Harry deserved that. His insides quailed at the thought of waiting forever, but he was determined. Harry wasn't the only one who could be brave and strong.

He swerved round the corner and into the room, not knowing what to expect.

Harry was hanging just where he'd been painted all those years ago. It almost felt anticlimactic, although he hadn't really expected Harry to be awake yet.

"Where are you, love?" he whispered, reaching out and stoking Harry's hair. Please wake up, he pleaded silently. Please tell me I didn't fuck this up, too?

Draco stood close beside Harry, stroking his hair and whispering nonsense words to him, mostly words begging him to wake up, for what seemed like hours and nothing changed.

Harry was not waking up and Draco was becoming frantic. The tears he'd stopped crying for Harry's death started again as he was becoming more and more certain that he'd completely fucked everything up.

He felt like hitting Harry, breaking his nose again, anything that just might prompt him to wake the fuck up!

Draco's hands grabbed Harry's cheeks and held his face up. "You're scaring me, Harry," he whispered, pleading. "I love you, please wake up!"

Draco stared at him for the longest time, but there was no change, no movement. No life. Draco's heart sank and his entire body seemed to go cold. He closed his eyes briefly as if steeling himself for a battle, then opened them again, searching Harry's face for something he couldn't see. It was only when he went to drop his hands away that Harry's eyelids gently fluttered.

"Harry?" Relief flooded through him like warm water soaking right trough to the tips of his fingers. His eyes blurred and he blinked furiously; this was no time to be bawling like a girl, though he could surely be forgiven for it seeing as his heart was bursting with joy and all that emotion needed to go somewhere.

"Harry, you need to open your eyes for me," he said. "Everything is really stiff and sore but it goes away, I promise." Draco's hands reached up and undid the cuffs around Harry's wrists and though Harry's arms didn't drop down, at least when he went to move them they could now.

When he looked back at Harry's face, those brilliant, piercing green eyes were looking back at him blankly. Draco's stomach dropped. There was no recognition in Harry's eyes at all. How could that be? Draco had retained all his memories when he'd awoken. All of them. Why would Harry not remember? Draco felt the hollow ache of all his future plans disappearing. Who knew if this Harry was anything like his Harry? Who knew if this Harry would even want anything to do with Draco, let alone spend their lives in love with each other?

Draco almost cried again as the devastating thought that he'd fucked up both his and Harry's lives crashed through him, chilling him to the bone once more.

Keeping his eyes averted from Harry's he reached up for his hands again, trying to bring them down. "You need to move your arms, Harry," he said, a hint of the desperation showing only minutely in his tone.

Surprisingly, Harry cooperated and Draco was able to slowly lower Harry's arms to his sides. It meant that the robe began to fall and Draco tucked it back round Harry's shoulders, wishing he'd thought to bring some clothes down. He'd not thought he'd need to bother when it was going to be his Harry waking. They'd no real need for clothes between them. But this Harry...

"Draco..."

The voice was croaky, sounding unused, but it was Harry. Draco looked up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Stiff."

"That will pass. What do you remember?"

He didn't want to ask the question and he dreaded the reply but he needed to know. He stepped back a little and watched Harry test his legs out and stretch, getting his body working properly. Then Harry dropped the robe and Draco looked up at his face, shocked.

"Everything," Harry whispered, a smile of welcome on his face. "Now come here and kiss me."

Draco's heart flew into his throat at about the same speed as he flew into Harry's arms and kissed him with all the love and need he'd been carrying with him for decades. Finally, he could feel those soft lips claiming his, that deft tongue slipping past his lips to tease. It was better than he'd dreamed of, he thought as he let himself be swept up in the tide of emotion that was threatening to overcome him. His Harry was here with him and as he felt those strong arms wrap around him and hang on for dear life he knew he'd never be truly unhappy ever again.

The end.