Lacuna

It was a quiet night as Remus and Sirius read in the sitting room, listening to tunes play on the Wizarding Wireless. Each had a drink in their hand, and each had their own varying degree of attentiveness in the content they were reading. Sirius had The Daily Prophet, but his eyes strayed from the paper to the picture frame just a couple feet from him. It was of Harry. He was in third year, the year in which they had met, and he was sitting by himself in the Common Room. He looked at peace, and moved so little that one could hardly tell that it was a wizard photo.

Remus held a novel that he had just purchased the previous day, but his eyes strayed to Sirius. He bit his lip each time he caught Sirius looking at the picture of his godson, but knew that there was nothing more to say on it. It had been a month now, and all topics had been exhausted as far as Sirius was concerned. His anguish over losing Harry was great and had now come to express it in silence. Remus accepted this, but the acceptance had not come easily. It was still difficult to keep the vow of silence, but one day, he thought Sirius would be ready to talk.

“Master Black,” a house elf interrupted their silence. “There is a man waiting to speak to you in the fire. He is saying it’s urgent.”

“Who is it?” Sirius asked, folding up the paper.

“Misty is not recognising him, Sir. He says he knows Master Black well. Misty thinks Master Black should not speak to him, Sir. He is not looking well. He looks untrustworthy.”

Brows furrowing, Sirius stood and went into the next room – his office – where the stranger was waiting with his head in the fire. Remus followed close behind, ready to offer his help. Sirius had not been himself and found it difficult to make simple conversation with anybody other than Remus. Sirius looked back at him and smiled, seemingly grateful for his reassuring presence.

“Sirius!” exclaimed the head. The stranger had a black eye, brown hair, chapped, cracking lips, and a large cut down the side of his face. Misty had been right, Sirius thought, this man did not look good. “I don’t know what to do. Draco came here tonight and I thought that maybe he had figured everything out, but he was just here bent on revenge, and he’s only just left a few minutes ago. God, Sirius, he left a mess. He killed Theodore Nott and Jimmy Stratham, and I told him I’d clean it up. But…” his voice shook, “I don’t know where to start!”

“Hold on!” Sirius held up a hand, sitting on his knees. “Slow down there, lad. Let’s start with the basics so that I might understand what the bloody hell is going on. What’s your name, and how do you claim to know me?”

The stranger opened his mouth, but immediately closed it, his eyes squeezing shut. “I can’t tell you my name,” he choked out. “Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t, Sirius. A couple days ago… I figured out something that I could say. And it might give you a clue.”

Sirius looked to Remus as he sat down, bewildered, and just a little annoyed. “What is it?”

“It’s just that… I love Draco.”

“How is that to tell me anything?” Sirius asked, his annoyance lacing his voice. All he wanted was to go back in the sitting room with Remus and read. “Why can’t you just tell me what your name is instead of proclaiming your love for my godson’s husband?”

“I am yo –” He cried out and took a few deep breaths. “I can’t!” he said desperately. “I want to! But it hurts! Please, Sirius, think! I love Draco!” When Sirius shook his head, the man whimpered dreadfully. “I love him!” the man in the fire exclaimed once more.

Remus placed a hand on Sirius’ forearm as he opened his mouth to say something nasty. Sirius looked to him curiously. “You love Draco Malfoy?” Remus asked slowly.

“Yes!”

“For how long?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He winced and closed it again. “I can’t.”

“You need help cleaning up a mess?” Remus continued.

“Desperately.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Theodore Nott’s home. Please, Remus, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if I believe it.”

“I love him,” he repeated to prove his point. “That’s all I can give.”

“I know. Do you know what I am, lad?”

He furrowed his brow. “You mean a werewolf?”

“Of course. Werewolves have special talents, one of which is sense of smell. You’ll have to pass my test before we believe anything.”

The stranger nodded. “Yes, I’ll do anything, Remus! Please come right now!”

“We’ll come through the fire. Step back.”

The head disappeared instantly and Remus moved to get the Floo powder. “What the bloody hell is going on, Remus?” Sirius demanded, getting to his feet.

Remus took a pinch of powder between his fingers before he turned to look at Sirius. “I think it’s foul play, Sirius, but I believe he’s trying to say that he’s Harry.”

Sirius’ face grew stormy within seconds. “And you believe him?”

“Not yet. I’ll go and see if he tells the truth. If he is, I’ll send for you.”

“It’s a bloody trap, Remus.”

“I’ll take that chance to see if it’s Harry.”

“I can’t believe that it would be. Harry’s dead. Everybody knows that.”

“Stranger things have happened, Sirius. We can’t know until we look.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sirius was determined, moving forward to take a pinch of Floo powder. Remus placed a hand on his chest. “Not yet, Sirius, let me go alone. I’ll call for you when I’ve made my decision. You do trust me don’t you?”

Sirius was ready to retort, but with Remus’ last words, he shut his mouth before he could utter a sound. He stepped back. “Yes. Of course I do.”

A small smile lacing his face, Remus reached down and squeezed Sirius’ hand. “I’ll call you in a minute, all right, Padfoot?”

Sighing, Sirius nodded. “If he’s lying, will you let me murder him?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Remus moved away from the darker man and, calling out his destination, stepped into the fire. One dizzying trip later, he was stepping through the fire into the study where the person in question waited anxiously. Remus twitched his nose, letting the smells of the room overtake him. He winced. It smelled of death. Something inside stirred at the smell. It was the werewolf within, crying to get out, wishing it were the full moon. However, the human within him recoiled in disgust. Flexing his jaw, Remus pushed down the feeling and looked around the room. He could see a man he did not recognise lying crookedly against bookshelves, and there were feet sticking out from the couches. He assumed they were Theodore Nott’s. “God,” he murmured, sickened at the sight. “Draco did this?”

“Yes,” the other man whispered. “I’ve seen him kill before, but he seemed positively demented tonight, like something in him has cracked. I’ve never heard him sound like that.”

Remus approached him as he spoke, trying to block out death and focus on the living. The emotions coming from this man seemed to be real, he analysed. His blue eyes held tears and seemed a bit unfocused as he looked to Remus, as if he were having trouble seeing without glasses.

“He was mad,” he continued, his voice getting quieter. “And it kills me, because he’s been fed information that isn’t true.”

“About your death?” Remus questioned.

“Yes. Remus! It was Nymphadora Tonks! They made her change everything she could to look like me. They gave her potions and put spells over her so that she wouldn’t change when she died. It wasn’t me, Remus.” “Tonks is fine. Andromeda says she’s on holiday.” Remus did not believe his words as he said them. The whole Tonks family had been acting strange for some time now. Andromeda was like a recording whenever somebody asked about her daughter. What this person was saying was ringing true in the back of Remus’ mind.

“No, Remus. You know that’s not true.”

Remus stopped just in front of him, and he should be able to smell this man, but all he was letting himself smell was death. His nose did not want to gear towards him in fear of what he might find. What scared him the most, finding out it was in fact Harry, or if it was a pretender, he could not be sure.

“Remus?”

He shook himself. “Yes.” He reached into his pocket for his wand and magically removed a small part of the other man’s hair. Holding it in his hand, the smell overpowered him and he staggered back a step. It was so familiar, so reassuring, and such a heartbreaking relief, that a quiet sob escaped from Remus’ throat. “Harry,” he whispered.

Harry laughed, tears coming to his eyes. He bounced on his feet, unable to confirm or deny. Remus stared for a few moments before engulfing him with a hug. “Everybody has been so miserable, Harry, you have no idea. And Draco… Merlin, Draco will be so happy.”

Harry nodded his cheek against Remus’. “I know. I just… I thought he figured it out and I was so happy to see him. Of course I couldn’t say anything.”

Pulling away, Remus offered a small smile. “No use dwelling on what’s happened. I’m sure he would have gone through with this even if he had known. I’m assuming you have a glamour charm on you of some sort?”

“I…”

“Can’t say,” Remus finished. “Sirius is waiting at the manor. I’m sure he’s going stark raving mad just about now. I should try to remove the spell on you so that he can see for himself that it’s you. He wanted to kill you.”

Harry offered a meek laugh. It took more than five minutes for Remus to figure out the countercharm for the glamour placed on Harry. When it finally faded, Remus had to shake himself again to get out of his trance. He just could not believe that this was happening. Harry was alive. “I’ll call Sirius here,” he whispered finally, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead.

A minute later, Sirius stepped through the fire, rage contorting his face. But as soon as he set eyes on Harry, it disappeared. He looked from Remus to Harry. “Remus… it’s not really him, is it?” he whispered.

Remus nodded. “I’d recognise his scent anywhere, Sirius. It’s Harry.”

Although he had done nothing to exert himself extensively, Remus felt exhaustion overtake him as Sirius moved forward to inspect Harry for himself. “You look like hell,” he faintly heard Sirius say. Remus went to sit on the couch, collapsing against the back.

It seemed like hours before Harry and Sirius finally came to stand over Remus. They were next to Nott’s body, and were pondering what to do when Remus finally blinked, coming back to reality. He checked his watch. It had only been three minutes since he had sat.

“What do we do about this?” Sirius asked, looking to Remus. “We can’t hide it. Somebody will notice when two seemingly good citizens turn up dead.”

The three fell silent for a few moments. “I’ll take the blame,” Harry spoke up.

“You can’t do that, Harry. You’ll go to Azkaban,” Remus protested.

“Yes, I can do that, Remus. They held me prisoner for over a month. They only kept me alive so long for their amusement. Every time Draco was on the news, they’d come show me, or they’d make me listen. I heard him on the Wizarding Wireless at the funeral.” Harry shivered. “That was worse than death,” he swallowed, “listening to his pain like that.” A slow smile formed over his face. “I can’t wait to see him as me, and be able to tell him my name. I can’t wait to hold him again and tell him that I’ll always be here.” They fell silent again, Remus and Sirius not knowing what to say. “Anyway,” Harry shook himself, “I can and I will say that I did it. I’ll tell them that they were going to kill me and I was just protecting myself.”

“Are you sure, Harry? It’s a good idea in theory, but something could always go wrong.”

“I’m sure. I’ll do it to protect Draco.”

“Okay,” Sirius shook his head. “I’ll call Kingsley.”

“I need to see Draco.”

“We’ll track him down as soon as we can,” Remus offered.

“I need him to know, Remus.”

“I know, Harry. But for now, you need to be tended. You still have a powerful curse on you, and I notice you’re limping. You need medical attention, so don’t worry about Draco. We’ll get him to you as soon as possible.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but found it was useless. Kingsley was stepping through the fire then, awe on his face as his eyes settled on Harry. It was going to be a long night, Harry thought dismally.

It indeed was a long night, and it was not until seven the next morning that Harry got to rest. The Healers at St. Mungo’s were quick to realise the curse on Harry that made him unable to speak of anything about himself, and removed it within minutes. The other injuries were mostly old, but the new ones were not serious, so were quickly healed, and all Harry had to do was take it easy for a couple weeks.

Harry chose to give an interview to The Daily Prophet right away so that wild stories were not spread, and he hoped that Remus would get to Draco before it was published. Remus left an hour after the Aurors arrived to look for Draco. Harry had informed him that he should look at the Malfoy Manor first, because Draco had said he was going to go there. But the werewolf had yet to return. The Daily Prophet was grabbed at wildly that morning by wizards and witches everywhere, who read the headline: Harry Potter Found Alive! Exclusive Interview! A large picture of Harry was on the cover. He looked tired and worn, the cut across his face having gauze spread across it, the bags under his eyes testimony to his hardship. He was talking in the picture, answering a question the reporter had asked him.

“I just want everybody to know the real story,” Harry Potter-Malfoy stated from St. Mungo’s early Tuesday morning. “From the beginning to the end… right now.”

“And what is the beginning, Mr. Potter?”

“The night I was killed.”

The people of the Wizarding world sat in awe as they read the entire story from beginning to end. It continued to a narrative of Sirius’ and Remus’ discovery of Harry, to the Prophet’s entrance into the story. But the reporter did not carry on too long, as the interview was what everybody was waiting for. When the morning papers had quickly sold out, the Wizarding Wireless bought the recorded interview and played it on air every three hours.

There were a select few who got to hear the story firsthand from Harry. Those people were the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus. However, they did not get to hear it without a fight first. There was still no word on Draco, and if Harry had been able to leave the hospital without anybody noticing, he would have done so. Remus had come back from Malfoy Manor empty handed, with no explanation as to why even Narcissa was absent. Kingsley Shacklebolt had volunteered his help in the search for Draco, and was currently out looking, but at three in the afternoon there was still no word.

“I want Draco here,” Harry muttered obstinately for what felt like the millionth time in the past six hours. “He needs to know.”

Molly Weasley comfortingly smoothed back his hair. “Don’t worry about it, dear. There are excellent people looking for him.”

“I know that, but that still doesn’t help the fact that they haven’t found him! I want him to be here!”

Hermione sat on the other side of the bed, across from Mrs. Weasley and gently squeezed his hand. “Harry, I understand, but you’ll need to relax,” the younger woman quietly replied.

“I don’t know about anybody else, but I’d like for him to tell us the story!” Fred Weasley spoke up by the door.

“Read the paper!” Ginny scolded him, though she had been putting off reading the paper and listening to the radio in the hopes that she would hear a more detailed version from the source. George called her on it.

“And you’re one to talk, Ginny? You’ve been carrying on about it all day, about how you won’t read the paper to see what happened.”

“Quit pestering him!” Mrs. Weasley reprimanded her children. “Arthur!”

Mr. Weasley, who had been bouncing on the balls of his feet, looked over to his wife. “Yes, dear?”

“I know you have the paper on you, give it to one of those hooligans and tell them to quit pestering Harry!”

Mr. Weasley reached into his pocket and obligingly handed it to Ginny. “You heard your mother.” Ginny scowled as she grabbed at the paper, but she did not open it.

Harry sighed as a nurse entered the room to add to the ruckus, but did not complain anymore. “You have a visitor who says he would like to see you, if only to congratulate you on your continued inability to use your head, and on finding such spectacular dumb luck as always.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Did he tell you to say it exactly like that?”

The nurse smiled. “He threatened to smile at me if I didn’t.”

“What a sour, old bat,” Harry grinned. “Send him in.”

The nurse left and a few moments later, Severus Snape stalked in, black robes billowing out behind him as usual. “How corking it is to see you, Professor!” Fred slapped him on the back. Snape glowered at him. “Just as happy to see me, I spot. Splendid!” Fred’s fake smile vanished as Snape turned to Harry and he backed off grimacing.

“Potter, I feared I’d come to see that you were in perfect health. Will nothing ever kill you, or shall I die knowing that you’re still perfectly safe?”

“You shall live seven lives and still know that I’m safe – terribly old, but safe.”

“That is what I was afraid of.”

“And what of you?” Harry asked. “Will you always be so pale and unpleasant to speak to?”

Snape sneered at him, but made no reply. “Molly,” he nodded his head when she smiled at him. He looked around the room, his brows furrowing. “I would have thought I would see Draco attached to you, Potter. Where is he?”

“Nobody knows,” Mrs. Weasley rushed before Harry could get a word in and start another rant. “He’s disappeared.”

“And nobody is looking for the fool?”

“There’s at least three people searching right now,” Mr. Weasley supplied, stepping toward the bed. “There’s been no trace of him yet – of Narcissa either. When nobody turned anything up by lunch, we started hoping he would see the paper or listen to the radio, and try to find Harry here. But no such luck yet.”

Snape stared at Harry all the time he was being informed. “Do you have any ideas where he might be, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “I only thought of our home, Malfoy Manor, your house, or maybe even some pub somewhere, but none of those searches turned up anything.” He shook his head. “My only guess now is that he’s with Narcissa somewhere.” He and Snape looked each other in the eye, both thinking along the same lines. They needed to find Draco as soon as possible before something happened.

Snape took a step back, still staring at Harry. “I will help in looking for him. I have a few ideas in where he might be if not with Narcissa as you suggest. As for now,” he looked disdainfully around the room. “I suggest for you to either get some rest, or tell these ravenous wolves exactly what happened before they start gnawing on your ankles.”

Harry grinned. “Yes, Sir.” Snape raised an eyebrow and turned to leave. “Oh, and Severus?” he called. When he turned, Harry offered him a kind smile. “Thank you.”

Snape sneered and left the room.

When he left, everybody was staring expectantly at Harry. He sighed, and adjusted himself on the bed. “I don’t understand why none of you can read the paper to find out what happened. But all right, I’ll tell you myself.”

A chorus of cheers rang out from the Weasleys. Ron, who had been sitting at the end of the bed, smiled faintly at his friend. He had been quiet all day, apparently trying to take everything in stride.

“As Fred and George know, I went to their shop to work. They left around half past five that evening and I was left to close shop. Everything was fine until about five minutes to the hour. I was nearly done with everything when Theodore Nott came in.”

“I thought he was cute back in Hogwarts,” Ginny confessed quietly, blushing.

The twins groaned. “Gin, you didn’t have to tell us that. That rat-faced little slime.”

“I was in third year!” she defended. “Sorry, Harry, go on.”

He smiled kindly at her. “It’s all right. Anyway, I thought he was being unnaturally nice to me, inviting me out for a drink. Of course I said no,” he replied quickly to Ron’s look. “But he kept pestering me, even when I kept refusing. I basically pushed him out of the store with me as I was locking up, because he clearly wasn’t there to buy anything. It was slow in Diagon Alley by that time, so nobody was around to notice when he pulled me by the side of the building. He said he wanted to talk in private, and he was nice at first, asking how Draco was, but I started getting impatient and kept checking my watch. He got annoyed and started getting forceful with me. I Disapparated when he reached into his pocket for his wand, but he grabbed onto me and was transported with me. We were just outside of my flat in the hall. I wanted to get Draco, but didn’t want to bring him into whatever was happening, so I didn’t really know what to do.” Harry drew a breath, looking down to his lap. “Then he said:”

“Nice of you to bring me to your flat, but I really wasn’t looking for an easy fuck tonight.”

“And is that what you think I do? Bring strange men home at night and let them have their way with me while Draco watches?” Harry tried prying Nott’s hand from his arm, but he held fast.

“Isn’t that what it’s like for all faggots? I’ve always thought that your kind think of nothing but sex.”

“Well, you’ve been misinformed, now let me go.”

Harry slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew his own wand, hiding it from sight. “What do you want with me?”

“Only what you’ve taken from me.”

“I’ve never taken anything from you, Nott. You’re delusional.”

“A life for a life, isn’t that what they say?” Nott grinned.

“I think the saying is ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.’”

“Or even ‘an eye for an eye makes the world go blind.’ But it’s all the same, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, I wouldn’t. And who’s life are you avenging, Nott?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Considering you’re holding me against my will at the moment, I

The hospital room was silent as Harry finished the first part of his story. “So… you still had no idea what he was doing there?” Ron asked, speaking up for the first time in some while.

“Besides for the fact that he was probably avenging somebody whom had been killed, I had no idea, no,” Harry shook his head. “I woke up a couple hours later in some sort of dungeon. Nott and Jimmy Stratham were there talking outside of the room I was being held in. They must have drugged me because I didn’t feel right and the hit to the head didn’t really help. Then as I was trying to listen to what they were saying, somebody in another corner of the room said my name.”

“There was somebody else there?” Hermione said aghast.

“Nymphadora Tonks,” Harry whispered. “They wanted her Metamorphmagi skills. Apparently they had been forcing all sorts of potions on her for a week, and placed complicated spells over her so that when she changed next, it would be permanent even when she died.”

“How awful,” Ginny murmured.

“Nott and Stratham came in a little later and started force-feeding me potion. They knew I am ‘immune’ to the Imperius, so they wanted me to be as obedient as possible. I felt like I was air for hours. Anything they told me, I gave not a second thought. I hardly remember some of it, but I do remember going with them to my flat. They had sent Tonks ahead of us disguised as me. She was to act like there was nothing wrong, like there was nothing amiss.”

“Why did she go along with it?” Sirius asked.

“They threatened to kill her family,” Harry whispered. “They had already got to the Tonks as you probably know. They’ve been under the Imperius ever since then.” Remus nodded from his chair in the corner, but did not say anything.

“They dressed me in a Death Eater robe and mask and told me not to say anything, not to do anything. Being under all of those potions, I couldn’t get the mind to do anything anyway. They didn’t even have to say anything.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I watched everything happen. I watched Nott kill Tonks and I watched Draco scream and scream and cry. It never hit me though until everything wore off, and I realised that Draco and everybody else thought I was dead – more importantly Draco thought I was dead. Then I realised that I didn’t really have a way out of there because nobody knew to look for me. Because of that, I would never be able to tell Draco that it hadn’t been me.”

“I don’t understand,” George scratched his head. “Why would they stage your death like that and then do nothing about Draco?”

“Well, I found out later that they had planned to kill Draco then, but Ron and Hermione showed up. Which by the way, I have never figured out how you knew to come.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “Draco called us right before you… well, Tonks got there, and he was simply out of his mind with worry about where you were. I was in bed, and Ron was the one who talked to him. Even when Ron told me that everything was fine and that you had just arrived home, I still had a gross feeling in me. I didn’t say anything though, and I was about to get out of bed because I thought Ron was asleep.”

“But I was having the same feeling as she did,” Ron said, smiling slightly at her. “I said, ‘let’s go.’ So, we went.”

“I just wish I had said something right when he had come back to bed,” Hermione shook her head. “Maybe we could have done something more.”

“You saved Draco, and that’s the important thing,” Harry squeezed her hand and nudged Ron’s leg with his foot. “You couldn’t have known that I was under the mask.”

“If their plan had gone well, what would they have done with you? I don’t understand the point of making such a circus out of it,” George said, still looking quite puzzled.

“It’s just how they decided to do it. They wanted to cause as much pain as possible for us, so they seemingly killed me in front of Draco, and they were going to kill Draco in front of me. They could not have caused as much pain if I had died first. I don’t know what they were planning to do after killing Draco. My theory is that they wanted to kill me right then, replace my body with Tonks and leave, but since it didn’t quite work out… we can never really say.”

“They kept you for a long time afterwards though,” Remus pointed out.

“Yes. I think they were having too much fun with torturing me with Draco’s anguish. Besides that, I think they were brewing another plan to get him, and in turn get me. I just spent the past month trying to figure out a way to get out, and then Draco showed up last night….” He smiled slightly. “I was so happy to finally see a friendly face and I was so sure that he knew who I was. But then he looked at me with such a vacant face when I said something about not being touched by somebody who cared about me in so long.”

Harry looked towards the door, seeing Draco even though he was not there. “I just want to see the look on his face when he sees me again,” he smiled sadly. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, “to hold him again. I miss him.”

“We’ll find him,” Hermione told him firmly, tears in her eyes as she watched him. “We’ll find him. Soon.”

Soon turned into days and still there was no sign of Draco. Harry had been released from the hospital on Wednesday morning with a clean slate of health. He went home to his empty flat. He removed the bloodstain from the carpet with next to no effort. Draco had been scrubbing at it, he could tell, but to no effect. Other than that, the place was clean, spotless even, as if Draco had gone on a cleaning spree to kill the time alone. The thought of the blond cleaning made something inside of Harry ache. Draco never cleaned. If the place had been a little messy, Harry would feel a little better somehow. He did not know why, but of this he was sure.

Harry spent the days in his flat, letting only his close friends in to visit. The media was always outside, waiting for some glimpse of him, but he never gave the satisfaction. The Weasleys invited him over for dinner but he declined, worried that if he left, Draco would show up while he was gone. The days were lonely, spending them lifelessly watching the television, and looking at pictures. He found himself constantly looking to the picture of himself that he hated. It was when Draco had been giving him a mind-altering blowjob and had suddenly gotten up and taken a picture of him. He laughed over the picture a few times and bit back the hurt at other times. At night, he would remember that day and reach beneath the covers and touch himself until he was left gasping for Draco and empty of any emotion.

Four days from his release from the hospital, Sirius and Remus came for a visit and forced him to come to Black Manor. Harry left only after leaving a note at the foot of the bed for Draco in case he came home. He spent the night in his old room, going to bed drunk with scotch and seemingly not a care in the world. There were dreams of Draco that night, but he wouldn’t remember them in the morning. Even if he did, he would force himself not to think on it.

“Harry! Harry! Wake up! It’s half past eleven!”

Harry groaned, rolling over in his bed. The last thing he wanted to do was get up for the day. What was the point? Sirius, who was the one outside his bedroom door yelling for him to wake, began pounding on the door.

“Wake up, Harry! Come on, you can’t sit around and mope all day!”

“Stop pounding on the bloody door! If I want to lie around all day, that’s my decision!”

“Harry, I insist that you stop being a child. Life hasn’t been fair to you…. Hell, it hasn’t been fair to any of us, but you can’t sit around and forget that there’s a world going on around you.”

“When you hear news on Draco, come back and tell me that there’s still a world to live in. Until then, Sirius.”

There was a long silence and Harry sighed, settling down to fall back to sleep. Harry was tired, and it would have shown had he the energy to get up to look in the mirror.

“Harry, that’s the thing,” Sirius said suddenly, making Harry groan. “You’ve received an owl from Narcissa Malfoy this morning. I was going to wait until you woke up by yourself, but since you’re intent on sleeping everything aw—”

Sirius stopped, because Harry had flown out of bed as soon as he heard ‘Narcissa’ come from his godfather’s mouth, and threw the door open. Sirius looked a bit surprised but then calmly held out the letter.

“And Harry,” Sirius started again with a deep breath, “After you read that, there’s something you should see in the paper. I have a feeling that that is what Narcissa is writing to you about.”

Harry nodded, his hands trembling as he opened the parchment. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,
Firstly, I would like to express my relief to hear of your continued health. I was quite taken aback to hear of your supposed death, and quite fearful for how my Draco would take the news. He did not fare so well with it, I’m afraid. He came to me the night in which you were recovered, and I helped to console him the best I could. I fear that he was beyond solace by the time he arrived home.
He, Draco, is the reason why I have decided to write to you. I offered him his old room the night he came to the Manor when he seemed disinclined to leave my presence. He took it with many thanks, and I would not lie to you and say I was not a little pleased. It had been so long since I had been able to spend any time with my son.
However, I came to realise that his grief was so deeply embedded into him that I could not get through to him. I suggested a mini-break to him, so we went to a secluded spot in Greece. His grief over losing you was only aggravated further. We came back to Wiltshire sooner than we had anticipated, just last night. When dinner was announced, he did not come down, and for the next few hours I worried on his whereabouts.
He arrived back unharmed, however, and though he did not say where he went, I believe he went somewhere that reminded him of you. His spirit was calmer than several hours previous, and I was encouraged. I thought he would get better. This morning when I woke, I went to check on him. To all appearances, he was sleeping soundly. But when I tried to wake him, he did not stir.
I wanted to inform you of this before you read it in the paper. You are his husband, and as such, I am positive that you love him very much. I’m sorry to have to tell you such dreadful news, but my son, Draco, is dead. I have been told that he drank a bottle of the most potent of poisons, and the healers assure me that he died instantly without pain. I hope that this is of some comfort to you as it is to me.
Harry, we must take comfort in something with this. I feel awful for taking him to Greece. If we had just been home, we would have seen the announcement in the paper that you were alive, and Draco would not have felt the need to end his own life.
I hope this letter reaches you before you see the Daily Prophet, and I hope that I will see you at the wake tomorrow night. I have begun making arrangements already. If you want a say in any of it, you may owl me your ideas. I fear I’m not in any condition for visitors at the moment.
Again, I’m truly sorry, and I hope that you’ll have plenty of support around you at this time. I hope for the sake of your family, you do not choose the path Draco chose.
With sympathy,
Narcissa Malfoy