Second Chances

To Harry's relief, Draco had been right: Sheila wouldn't say a word to anyone without Harry's consent. Talking to Sheila about his darkest secrets felt right somehow. Just being able to discuss the events with the counsellor made Harry feel as if a weight had been lifted from his heart, but the doctor had a few ideas that she thought would help him truly come to terms with his past. His sleep that night was a little less troubled than usual.

As soon as he finished up with classes the next day, Harry began the first task Sheila had set for him: confession. She believed that Harry needed to tell his story to the very people he least wanted to admit his sins to. To this end, he headed into Hogsmeade to confront Remus, hoping desperately that the man could find it in his heart to forgive him. Of all the people he intended to confess to, he cared most what Remus thought.

During the walk to the village, Harry considered what to say to the man. There seemed no easy way to broach the subject, no polite terms to make the story less horrific. All too soon, Harry found himself outside of Lupin's house.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. "Remus?" he called.

"In here," Lupin's warm voice called from the sitting room.

Harry followed the sound and found Remus with his nose in a massive tome of some sort. "Did I come at a bad time?" he asked nervously.

"Of course not," Remus replied, setting the book aside. "You know you're always welcome here, Harry."

Turning away to hide the emotion he knew showed plainly on his face, Harry swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, trying to remain calm. He doubted that Remus would welcome him here after he knew the truth, so the well-meant words stung.

"I'm actually here as part of my therapy," Harry said at last, forcing himself to turn and give Remus a small smile. He sat in the chair beside Lupin's and tried not to fidget, while Remus held himself still and waited for Harry to continue. At last, Harry found a tiny bit of courage lurking somewhere inside and forced himself to speak. "I want you to understand that I'm not asking for forgiveness," he said.

"Forgiveness for what, Harry?" Remus asked gently.

"I...I've done something....something so horrible... I was afraid to tell you," Harry began, staring down at his hands. "I'm still afraid," he added quietly. He had never felt less like a bold Gryffindor in his life.

Remus laid his hand on Harry's arms, frowning when the younger man startled at his touch. Concerned, he pulled his chair closer, so that he faced Harry. "It's all right, Harry. Take your time," he said soothingly as he took one of his young friend's hands in his own.

Harry's hand clenched convulsively around Remus'. "I killed Peter," he confessed in a harsh whisper, his head bowed.

"Oh, God," Remus breathed.

The entire story, from the blackmailing of Lucius Malfoy, through the duel with Bellatrix, to the execution of Peter Pettigrew, fell from Harry's lips like water from a downspout. He had no control whatever over the words; rather, they controlled him. Only when the story was complete did he even pause for air, his breaths too shallow and too rapid.

In the silence that followed his confession, Harry found that Remus hadn't let go of his hand. Seizing onto a small bit of hope, he forced himself to look up into his friend's face. Tears streamed silently down Remus' cheeks.

Never in all the years that Harry had known the kind-hearted older man had he ever seen Remus Lupin cry, not even when Sirius died. To know that he was the cause of the pain in those gentle eyes would forever be a source of torment to Harry's soul.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Remus whispered, breaking the stillness.

"Sorry?" Harry repeated, not understanding.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this. Sorry I didn't deal with it myself. I should have...but I ....." He broke off, his voice shaking. "If I had taken care of matters myself, you wouldn't have... Harry, you should never have felt the need to take that responsibility on along with everything else that was forced on you. I couldn't bring myself to face it...but I should have. Harry, I'm so very sorry. Please forgive me," Remus added, his voice wrought with emotion.

Harry brushed the tears from Lupin's cheek with his free hand. "I'm glad it was me and not you, Remus," he said softly. "Peter was your friend once; I only knew him as a traitorous rat. It's better this way."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off. "What's done is done, Remus. We can't change it now." He paused for a moment and looked back down at his and Remus' joined hands. "I was afraid you would hate me," he confessed.

Remus squeezed Harry's hand slightly. "I regret that you felt you needed to do something that has so obviously hurt you," he said, measuring his words, "but I don't hate you. You're my dearest friend, and the closest thing to a son I shall ever have. I could never hate you."

Harry held on to Remus' hand for a moment longer before releasing it and settling back into his chair. He watched silently as Remus produced a handkerchief from somewhere to dry his eyes and leaned back to sit more comfortably in his own chair.

"You said that you told Draco all of this," Remus said cautiously. "How did he handle the news about his father?"

"Honestly, I think he's still digesting the information. He's been really supportive, though. It's kind of scary, really. I expected him to run away, but he's still here."

Remus smiled. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing," he said.

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just not what I would have expected from anyone, much less the self-righteous daddy's boy I knew at school," he replied with a wry smile. His expression turned more serious. "I keep expecting him to come to his senses and tell me he doesn't want anything more to do with me. Instead, he's rather doing the opposite, going out of his way to help me."

"I've always done my very best to keep my nose out of your personal business, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart, but I'm going to give you my opinion, regardless of whether you want it," Remus said lightly. "Draco Malfoy is no more like the child you knew than you are like the child you were, Harry. He's grown into a remarkable young man. My advice is this-- don't confuse what you think he should be thinking and feeling with what he actually is thinking and feeling. Never assume you know what's going on in his mind. He's a very complex person, Harry. If you have doubts or questions, you should talk to him."

Harry thought about Lupin's words for a bit. He had found out long ago that he could learn a lot by simply listening to the man. After a time, he nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.

Remus patted the younger man's arm and then skilfully changed the subject. They talked of mostly inconsequential things while preparing and eating a light meal, and then Harry bade Remus goodnight and headed back to Hogwarts.

As he walked, Harry went over the list of names in his head. There were only a few other people whom he felt the need to confess to, but he wanted to complete the task as soon as possible. Of those remaining, Molly and Arthur Weasley would be the hardest to face. He planned to see them on Saturday, and he hoped he would have the time and strength to talk to Tonks on Sunday afternoon. There would still be time for him to talk to Minerva tonight; originally, he had planned to wait until another day, but his visit with Remus had given him strength and buoyed his spirits. The sooner he got through this trial, the better.

**************************

Harry awoke with a start, his heart pounding as confused images from his dreams rolled through his head before fading away. The strange nightmare had somehow evolved from being sacked by Minerva to Draco turning him over to dementors. Everything in between was rather fuzzy, but the basic idea still stood out clearly: everyone he knew had turned their back on him because he had killed Lestrange and Pettigrew.

Untangling himself from his sheets, Harry brushed the tattered remnants of the dream from his mind. Minerva had been visibly shaken by Harry's confession the night before, but she hadn't sent Harry away or even voiced any disapproval. Whatever her thoughts on the subject might be, McGonagall kept them to herself.

Shoving his fear aside, Harry began to get ready for the long day of classes that lay ahead of him.

*****************************************

The week passed by in the usual blur of classes, staff meetings, and long nights of grading essays. On Thursday, Remus owled to check on Harry, but no word at all came from Draco. Confused, hurt, and disappointed, Harry tried to rationalise Draco's behaviour or ignore it by turns. By the time Saturday afternoon finally arrived, Harry was bone tired from anxiety over both Draco's sudden disappearance and the eminent confrontations with the Weasleys and Tonks.

Pushing aside his worries, Harry travelled the well-worn path toward Hogsmeade, Disapparating when he had gone far enough to be outside of Hogwarts wards. He arrived instantaneously outside the door of the Weasley house and raised his fist to knock before his courage could fail him.

Three-quarters of an hour later, he stumbled back through the door, chest tight with pain and unshed tears. Molly Weasley had thrown him out of her house.

For a moment, Harry thought longingly of Draco. He knew the blond was probably at his home in Hogsmeade. It would be easy enough to go to the cottage and pour his troubles out to Draco.

No. He still had some tattered remnants of his pride, and he would keep them intact. Squaring his shoulders, Harry wrapped his hand around his wand, took a deep breath, and Apparated to Hogsmeade.

Madame Rosmerta and her few customers looked up, slightly startled, as Harry Potter appeared in their midst.

"Bollocks," Harry cursed emphatically. In his distressed state, he had missed his mark and Apparated some distance from his intended destination. Scowling, Harry strode out of the Three Broomsticks and into the sunny streets of Hogsmeade.

For a moment, he considered turning left and going down to Draco's house. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he turned right instead, heading for the comfort and security of one of the few places he knew he would be welcome.

*********************************

"And what of human error, Draco?" Remus Lupin asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

Across from him, Draco frowned down into his tea. "There are ways to minimize the chances of something going wrong," he began. The sound of the front door opening caused him to pause, and he turned his eyes toward the door to the foyer.

Harry stalked into the sitting room ready to throw himself at Remus' feet to be soothed and comforted. The short walk from the Three Broomsticks had given him enough time to mentally replay the entire confrontation with the Weasleys and he had worked himself into an angry, hurt, guilty wreck. He hadn't been expecting to find Draco sitting calmly in Harry's favourite spot on the sofa and drinking tea, however, and he paused on the threshold, unsure how to proceed.

There was no mistaking the despair in Harry's eyes, or the uncertainty. "Should I go?" Draco asked, looking up into tear-bright jade eyes.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry moved from the doorway into the sitting room. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself into Draco's arms, but he forced himself to remain calm and move past the blond.

"Harry, what it is?" Remus asked gently. "What's wrong?"

Tossing his glasses aside, Harry sank down on the sofa, square in the middle, turning so that his back was to Draco and he could lay his head on the sofa's back. His heart hurt, and his mind ached. The woman who had been the closest thing to a mother than Harry had ever known was ashamed of him and didn't want to know him anymore. Right now, what he needed was the closeness of someone who accepted him and loved him. He just wasn't quite sure how to ask that of Draco, or how to solicit that kind of comfort from Remus while Draco was present.

Remus had seen Harry in a vast array of depressed states over the years. He knew from experience that Harry needed to talk about what was troubling him, though he would have to be forced or coaxed to speak, and that he craved physical contact as reassurance. He moved to sit in the little space left on the sofa and gently stroked Harry's soft inky hair. "Harry?" he asked again, his voice full of concern.

"Molly hates me," Harry whispered, his voice completely devoid of emotion. His eyes, however, showed the depth of his pain quite clearly.

"Oh, Harry," Remus said. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't challenge the statement, mostly because he knew Harry wouldn't listen, but also because he had no way of knowing exactly what Molly's thoughts and feelings might be. Sighing, he continued to stroke Harry's hair and resolved to talk to Molly Weasley - and soon.

"Who is 'Molly'?" Draco asked cautiously, setting aside his teacup.

"Molly Weasley," Remus explained. "She's been almost like a Mum to Harry."

Fire flashed in Draco's eyes. "Obviously not, if she's upset him this badly," he snapped, bouncing up from his seat and drawing his wand.

"Draco, what do you think you're doing?" Remus asked, sounding so very like a disapproving parent that Harry had to turn and see what Draco was up to.

"I'm going to go and tell that Weasley cow exactly what I think of her," Draco snarled, his nostrils flaring and his eyes flashing.

Remus had his wand out in a split-second, and with a quiet, calm "Expelliarmus" Draco's wand was sailing through the air to land neatly in Remus' outstretched hand. "You may take your anger out on the walls, if you like, or the furniture, or even on me, but you will remain in this house until your temper cools," he said levelly.

Draco stood for a moment, chest heaving and fists clenched, before turning and putting one of those perfectly manicured, alabaster fists through the wallboard. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, cradling his hand to his chest.

"Honestly," Harry said, jumping up and shoving his glasses on. "Could you be just a little more idiotic?" He carefully took Draco's hand in his, surveying the damage. "Lucky you didn't break it," he said after a moment. "Come with me."

Harry dragged Draco down the hallway to the bath where he carefully cleaned the scratches on Draco's hand and applied Quick-Heal salve to the bruises and abrasions. "Best I can do," he muttered apologetically as he wrapped the injured hand in a thin layer of cotton gauze.

"Better than I deserve," Draco replied. "You're right, that was an incredibly stupid thing for me to do. Especially since that's my wand hand." He brought his other hand up to caress Harry's cheek.

Without stopping to think, Harry turned his face into Draco's touch, letting his lips brush against Draco's palm. Draco slipped his injured hand free and slid it around to Harry's back, pulling the smaller man close. The hand on Harry's face turned it up, and Draco pressed his lips firmly against Harry's forehead, his temple, his cheek, and finally his lips. Harry's hands tangled in Draco's hair, urging him to deepen the kiss.

With a muffled groan, Draco let his tongue slide between Harry's lips, tasting, teasing. Harry sucked gently on Draco's tongue, and the blond whimpered, pulling Harry more firmly against him. Some time later, a quiet chuckle drew both men's attention away from the kiss and back to reality. They glanced up to see Remus smiling fondly at them.

"I came to check on you. I should have known you were quite all right," Remus said with a mischievous smile.

Draco flushed faintly, but Harry merely offered up a cheeky grin. "Would have been a damn sight better than all right if you hadn't interrupted," he teased. "Interfering old bastard."

"I am not old," Remus replied, feigning indignation.

"My mistake," Harry said civilly. "Interfering middle-aged bastard."

"Much better," Remus said with a smile. "Would you two care to join me in the parlour, or should I leave you to your snogging?" he teased.

***********************

Harry shifted on the sofa, snuggling closer to Draco's side and settling his head more comfortably on the other's shoulder. Although Harry had been inclined to resume their kissing, Draco had insisted on being polite and returning to his unfinished conversation with Remus. Harry didn't really mind, though he wasn't much in the mood for conversation. Draco's arm felt good wrapped around him and the other men's voices were soothing. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, not really paying attention to whatever it was his friends were debating.

"Harry, do talk some sense into him," Draco said, drawing Harry's attention.

Reluctantly, Harry forced his eyes to open and focus on Draco's face. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked.

"I don't believe he's heard a word we've said," Remus commented.

"I didn't know I was supposed to be listening," Harry said.

"Of course you were," Draco replied. "How else are you going to help me convince Remus that he's wrong?"

Harry looked up at Draco and grinned. "You mean I'm not supposed to just nod and agree with everything you say?"

Draco's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I rather like that you've the ability to think on your own, actually."

"All right, then. If I'm to voice an opinion, I guess you should tell me what you two are arguing about," Harry replied.

Remus chuckled. "The same thing we've been debating since I taught at Hogwarts," he supplied. "Much like Hermione, Draco worked out early on what my monthly 'illness' meant. Rather than simply confront me with his suspicions, Draco chose a more Slytherin route. During one of our afternoon chats, he decided to explain to me his views on Lycanthropes' Rights."

"Remus, of course, explained patiently how my thoughts on the subject were ill-considered. At first, I thought perhaps I was wrong about his being a werewolf. I mean, one would assume that a lycanthrope would support lycanthrope's rights, after all," Draco replied a bit angrily.

"As long as there are those who are incapable of making wise decisions, it is better not to give us too many freedoms, Draco. I've told you this before," Remus said.

"Wait," Harry said, sitting up. "I'm a bit confused. Surely you don't approve of all the anti-werewolf legislation?"

"No, Harry, not all of it," Remus replied. "There are certain strictures, however, that I very much agree with."

"For example?" Harry prompted.

"The prohibition on procreation," Draco spat.

Remus sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes. "That has been the major point over which Draco and I have disagreed all these years," he explained to Harry.

"It's ridiculous!" Draco exclaimed. "If the Ministry wants to go around telling people they can't have children, they should start with abusive bitches like my ex-wife. No one tried to tell her that she couldn't be a parent. In fact, her father and mine as much as said she had to."

Harry stroked the back of Draco's neck in a calming gesture. "You're saying it should be all or nothing, then," he said. "Either the Ministry should monitor everyone or no one rather than just the relative few who are affected by lycanthropy."

"No. I'm saying the Ministry should mind it's own bloody business," Draco replied. His tone was more matter-of-fact now, no longer tinged with anger. Harry's hand on his neck was rather distracting. He sighed. "When Remus and I first began debating the issue, I was still very much under my father's influence. I had been taught that a large enough sum of money would ensure that the Ministry would see things the way you wanted them to. I was also a teenager who was going through a rebellious phase, and I didn't have a real outlet for that rebelliousness because I knew that defying my father would get me into more trouble than I could ever possibly deal with. I found myself defending a lot of things simply because I knew Father would disapprove of my doing so. Of course, I was careful to make certain he never found out about any of it," he explained. "The more Remus and I debated the issue, the more I truly believed in my own arguments. More importantly, I found myself questioning why someone as gentle and compassionate as Remus was denied the chance at fatherhood while others who were cold and sometimes cruel were not."

"Your father, you mean," Harry guessed.

"Actually, no. It wasn't until much later that I began to see my father in that light. Some of my friends' parents were horrid, though, and I could never quite help thinking that Remus would be much better at raising children than any of them."

Remus looked thoughtful and a little sad. "Even if they repealed the laws, Draco, it wouldn't change the way that society views lycanthropy. Even if I were allowed by law to marry and have children, it would still be damned difficult to find anyone willing to overlook or deal with my disease. How many women do you know that knowingly and willingly marry a werewolf, much less have his children?"

"I must confess that the only females I really know now are my mother and my daughter. I tend to avoid women when possible," Draco replied.

"I know plenty of women who'd be willing, if they decided that the werewolf in question was the man they loved," Harry added.

"Really?" Remus asked, sitting back in his chair and looking unconvinced.

"Hermione. Ginny. Luna," Harry began.

"They are open-minded ladies, I will agree," Remus said, cutting him off. "But do you know for certain that they are that open-minded?"

"No, I suppose not. We've never talked about it," Harry admitted.

"So you can not actually name one woman whom you know without a doubt would knowingly and willingly involve herself with a werewolf," Remus said with a small smile.

"Yes, I can," Harry declared. "Tonks."

Remus chuckled. "The girl is just mad enough to do such a thing, but what makes you so certain, Harry?"

Harry swallowed and looked down at his hands. "Because she loves you," he said.

"I see," Remus replied quietly. "How long have you known?"

"Since the night...since the night of the accident," Harry answered, stumbling over the words. "When she...when Tonks thought she wasn't going to make it, she asked me to tell you. I thought surely she would say something to you." His words trailed off into thoughtful silence.

"Was I wrong to tell you, Remus?" Harry asked gently.

"No, Harry, of course not," Remus replied, his voice weak.

"Should I have told you sooner?"

An uncomfortable silence settled upon the room. Remus seemed deep in thought, and Harry didn't want to disturb him. After several minutes, Draco took it upon himself to break the silence.

"You've mentioned this Tonks person before," Draco said. "When you were first telling me about your....er..."

"Mentally instability," Harry supplied helpfully.

Draco frowned. "You shouldn't use such terms, Harry. They're so degrading. Anyway, you said something about 'Tonks' that night. Who is she?"

"Tonks is an Auror and a very close friend. We worked together a lot when I was still employed by the Ministry. A year ago Christmas, I nearly got her killed," Harry explained.

"That wasn't your fault, Harry," Remus argued.

"Yes, it was," Harry insisted. "After....after what happened with Peter, I lost my ability to concentrate. I didn't realise we'd walked right into a trap, and I never saw Nott until it was too late. And then I...I panicked. I just stood there like I'd turned to stone."

"It's over and done with, Harry. Let it go," Remus advised.

"Maybe I'll be able to, once I've talked to Tonks," Harry said. "After today, though, I'm not feeling too confident about facing her."

"What happened, exactly?" Draco asked as he began rubbing reassuring circles on Harry's back.

Harry took a deep breath. He had been hoping that neither Draco nor Remus would ask that particular question, but deep down he had known it was inevitable. "Molly said that no matter what they had done, Peter was still someone's son, and Lestrange was still someone's daughter. That, no matter what they had done, someone somewhere was hurt by their deaths. That I had no right to pass judgement on either of them, and that I should have turned them over for trial."

"She's not entirely wrong, Harry," Draco said, still running his hands over Harry's back. "There were people who mourned Bellatrix Lestrange, for certain. She was my mother's sister, you know." Draco could feel Harry tense beside him. "Mother mourned, but she also knew that Bella's death was inevitable. She cursed the Dark Lord for letting himself be beaten. She cursed Bellatrix for being stupid enough to fight on the losing side of the war. Mother is a very pragmatic woman, Harry. She wouldn't blame you for what you did. She would be more likely to berate you for feeling guilty about it."

"I've caused your family no end of trouble," Harry said, scrubbing his face with his hands. "How can you stand to be near me?"

Draco turned Harry's face so that he could look the other man in the eye. "I never even really knew my aunt, Harry. Only the sorrow her death has caused you and my Mum affects me at all. As for the situation with my father..." Draco broke off with a sigh. "I've thought about that quite a bit, actually. I know that he isn't a good man, Harry, but he is my father. I love him, despite the fact that I could cheerfully strangle him for what he said to Adrian that night at Hogwarts. As...unscrupulous as this arrangement you have with my father might be, I realise that it is likely the only reason he's still alive. I'm grateful for that. It's difficult to be cross with someone and grateful to them at the same time."

Harry continued to look pensive. "I don't think that night was the first time your father has spoken to Adrian that way," he said, looking down at his hands again.

"What would make you think that?" Draco asked.

"Something that Adrian said when I found him made me think that it might be fairly common for Lucius to dress Adrian down like that."

"What did he say?" Draco asked, his voice tight.

"I told him that what Lucius had said was wrong, and Adrian said 'I'm used to it' and shrugged it off," Harry answered.

"What did Lucius say to him?" Remus asked, confused and concerned.

Harry explained briefly. Draco looked imploringly at Remus, silently asking him what to do about this horrible situation.

"Talk to Adrian, Draco. Encourage him to tell you about his relationship with your father without assigning blame," Remus advised.

"You should speak with Sheila as well. She may at least be able to confirm my suspicions," Harry added.

"Of course," Draco replied distractedly.

"It's getting rather late," Remus said, changing the subject. "I'd best see to dinner. You'll stay and eat with us, won't you, Draco?"

Draco forced his mind away from brooding over his son and gave Remus a weak smile. "Only if you'll let me help you in the kitchen," he answered.

Remus grinned and offered Draco his hand, only to realise his error and quickly offer his opposite hand so that Draco could pull himself up with his uninjured one. For a moment, Remus was certain that Harry was going to pout - actually pout! - about having his boyfriend taken away. Either he was mistaken or the younger man restrained himself, though, for he didn't sulk at all but merely stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes. Remus took a moment to draw the curtains, and turned back to find Draco draping a lightweight quilt over Harry. Draco kissed Harry on the forehead before turning away and following Remus from the room.

*******************