Chapter Twenty-Five
Come Back To Me
The woman looked truly sorry.
“What?” Harry asked, his breath hitching. He didn’t want to know the answer to the question. “Is he still alive?”
She nodded. “But only barely. The Healers would like to know if some sort of curse was placed upon him.”
Harry nodded and with a shaking voice, he told the woman about the soul-and-body separating spell Hermione had performed, as well as the Cruciatus. She nodded and asked him to come with her.
“May I see him?” Harry asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “He’s in a Healing Sleep right now and only if he’s stable enough will you be able to see him.”
“Stable?” Harry asked, but she didn’t answer. She opened a door for him and motioned for him to go inside. Two Healers were standing in there, waiting for him.
“Mr Potter,” one of them said, stretching her hand out to him.
Harry, however, was staring at the other man. “Neville?”
“Harry.” Neville Longbottom smiled slightly at him.
“How is he?”
“Not good, Harry,” Neville answered. “He’s not responding right to any of our potions and spells.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “What have you given him?”
“The normal healing potions,” Neville said.
Harry shook his head at him. “No, you can’t. He’s a part-Veela, don’t you know that? He won’t respond right to medication made for humans.”
Neville looked at his partner, who nodded. “I’ll go get the Veela potions.”
She left the room together with the woman who’d led Harry there. Harry turned to Neville. “How is Darius?”
“He’s the one who got stabbed, right?” Neville asked and Harry nodded. “Wait and I’ll check.”
He brought up a piece of parchment and wrote Darius’ name. The writing was absorbed and other writing appeared.
“He is stabilized and currently resting,” Neville told him. “Would you like me to take you there? You won’t be allowed to see Draco for a while yet.”
Harry thought for a second before he asked, “Will you come get me as soon as I can?”
Neville smiled gently. “Of course.”
“Then I’d like to see Darius.”
Neville showed him to the fire at the other end of the room. “Let’s take the quick way.”
They floo-ed through St Mungo’s private network and Harry landed, as he always did, in a heap on the floor. Neville stood grinning next to him and offered him a hand to get up. Harry couldn’t help but think of how much he had changed.
Suddenly a light started blinking in Neville’s pocket. “Oh, I have to go,” he said. “Darius’ room is just down the corridor to your right.”
Harry nodded.
He walked silently through the corridor. He was just about to go into Darius’ room when he heard voices.
“I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Harry hesitated. Instead of walking into the room, he peeked around the corner.
Myra and Darius were completely absorbed in each other. Myra sat on the side of Darius’ bed, her hand on Darius’ cheek.
“I was so scared.”
Darius just smiled at her. Harry wondered if they’d dosed him with enough potions to think he’d died and gone to heaven; he certainly looked like it.
“Don’t ever do anything like that to me again,” Myra whispered.
Darius lifted himself an inch off the bed and quieted Myra with a kiss. Myra gasped, surprised, but then her hands came up on either side of Darius’ face and she leaned into it. Darius groaned as his newly healed wound was aggravated and Myra pulled back.
But Darius just smiled and brought his hand up to cup Myra’s face.
Harry pulled back and sank down on the floor, his body heavy. They didn’t need him there, not right now. Right now, they had each other and he would be like a third wheel. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he couldn’t help but feel alone. So very, very alone.
He leaned his head back against the wall, letting his hair fall into his eyes. He looked at his hands. They were still covered with blood from Hermione and Draco.
Draco.
“Harry. I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have— brought you into this.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Didn’t Draco realise that Harry would do anything for him?
“I love you.”
Harry hadn’t even said the words back to Draco. He should have, he knew he should have. What if Draco didn’t wake up? What if Harry never got to tell him? Why had he waited? What had he been afraid of? That Draco didn’t love him back? Why would that matter? Harry would still love him, whether or not Draco loved him.
“I am so stupid,” he whispered hoarsely and ran his hands through his hair, tears filling his eyes but none spilling down his cheeks. He wouldn’t cry. That would make it seem as though he’d given up hope. He just said again, “I am so, so stupid.”
Exhausted from the events of the last twenty-four hours, he lay down on his side in the empty corridor and closed his eyes. His body felt like it was made of lead; he couldn’t have made himself move for anything – anything but Draco.
His heart was bleeding.
He was so tired.
“I love you.”
He was awoken by Neville.
“Good morning,” he said gently.
Harry sat up groggily and looked around the dark corridor. “What time is it?”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
Harry suddenly remembered where he was and why. “Draco?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Neville said. “You can come see him now.”
“Is he awake?” Harry asked, his heart filling with hope.
Neville shook his head, his eyes sad, crushing Harry’s sudden hope. “He’s still in the Healing sleep,” he said. “Harry – we’re not sure that he will ever wake up again.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, then forced himself to look at Neville. “He will. He has to.” His voice broke at the last words.
Neville reached out a hand and helped him up. “Come on.”
They floo-ed again, to yet another room. Harry had no idea of where in St Mungo’s they were and he didn’t really care. He only wanted to see Draco.
Neville led him down two dark corridors before he turned and held open a door for Harry. “In here.”
Harry nodded. “Thank you.”
Neville gave him a small smile and said, “Of course,” and then he left.
Harry walked into the dark room, his hands shaking.
Draco lay still on the bed before him. He was dressed in a white St Mungo’s gown. It didn’t quite hide the gauze covering his torso, nor did it in any way hide the gauze covering Draco’s cheek. He looked unearthly, his skin too pale, except where it was beaten blue.
“Oh god,” Harry mumbled and hurried over to Draco’s side.
With trembling hands, he took Draco’s frail looking one in his. It was limp, unresponsive, and reminded Harry too much of Hermione’s dead fingers.
“Please come back to me,” he whispered, gently squeezing Draco’s hand.
But Draco lay still, his breathing even and light, never noticing Harry’s presence.
Refusing to release Draco’s hand, Harry slowly slumped down in a chair knowing that his legs would not support him one second longer.
Myra entered cautiously.
Harry looked up at her. He felt dead inside.
“Hey,” she said and tried to smile. Her eyes flitted over to Draco and she held back a gasp.
“Hey,” Harry said.
“How is he?”
Harry looked at Draco and spoke quietly. “Not good. The Healers fear that he won’t wake up at all.” He met her eyes. “She didn’t just stab him and beat him; she cursed him as well.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and he closed his eyes.
“How is Darius?” he asked, wanting to speak about something else.
“He’s getting better,” Myra said. “They are ‘healing’ him.”
Harry looked at her. “You think all of this is very strange, don’t you?”
“That magic exists? Well, I can’t say that it is something I expected and it doesn’t go with the logical side of me. It is— weird.” She looked as though she couldn’t quite translate her feelings into words, which was unusual when it came to her. Then again, it certainly wasn’t a usual situation. “I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and it will all be a dream. I mean, a hidden society in London? A magical school? Wizards and witches? It sounds rather like a good novel.”
“Indeed,” Harry said. “Perhaps you understand now why I was always so reluctant to tell you about my past?”
Myra smiled slightly. “Yes, perhaps I can understand that a little.”
She pulled a chair up and sat down next to Harry.
“I sort of understand now,” Harry said suddenly, “what Hermione felt. About Ron, I mean. About wanting to do anything to get the one you love back. It is frightening, but it is there.”
“You won’t turn into her,” Myra reassured him. “Because he won’t die.”
She squeezed his hand, trying to comfort him as much as possible. Harry hoped with all his might that she was right.
‘Harry Potter saves Muggles and old school rival
‘Harry Potter, also known as Harry Evans in the Muggle world, has once again saved the day. A former friend of Potter’s, Hermione Granger, kidnapped Draco Malfoy (all three former students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry). Mr Malfoy was accused of being a Death Eater and murdering Ronald Weasley several years ago, but was cleared of all charges by Hogwarts’ former Headmaster, the late Albus Dumbledore.
‘Miss Granger attempted an ancient spell to bring Ronald Weasley back, using Malfoy’s soul in exchange.
‘“We do not know exactly what happened,” says Auror Angelina Johnson. “The soul exchange didn’t work and Draco Malfoy is currently at St Mungo’s Hospital. We are still investigating the exact events that took place.”
‘Sources tell the Daily Prophet that Miss Granger has been trying to find Mr Malfoy for years, although no one knew that her hatred had grown so strong.
‘“We thought she wanted to speak with him, to get his side of the events,” says one source who chooses to remain anonymous. “I had no idea she wanted to kill him. I would, of course, have taken action if I’d known.”
‘Apparently Mr Potter contacted Miss Granger several months ago for help, which is how she found him. Mr Malfoy went underground after the murder of Ronald Weasley and hasn’t been seen in the Wizarding world since.
‘Two Muggles, Myra Pryderi and Darius Aldén, were also involved. The two are said to be Potter’s friends, but their exact involvement has not been explained yet. Mr Aldén is currently also under St Mungo’s care after being stabbed by the same knife that Miss Granger used in her attempt to revive her dead best friend. Miss Pryderi and Mr Aldén have both chosen not to comment on the Daily Prophet’s information, as has Mr Potter.
‘A third body was found in the chambers next to the one where the bodies of Miss Granger and Mr Weasley; Miss Desdemona D’Razi. Miss D’Razi is also a former student at Hogwarts, who was expelled in the beginning of her fourth year. The Daily Prophet has yet to find why she was expelled. Miss D’Razi’s involvement with Miss Granger’s plots has not yet been revealed.
‘“At this stage, there isn’t much we know for sure,” Auror Johnson continues. “We have yet to speak to Mr Malfoy, as he still hasn’t woken up.”
‘The Daily Prophet has also learned that Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy have been living together for the last three months. After an accident in the Muggle world, Draco Malfoy was paralysed from the waist down and has been confined to a Muggle wheelchair (see page 4 for detailed information on Muggle wheelchairs and paralysis), unable to use his legs. The exact nature of the relationship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy has not yet been revealed, as Mr Potter has chosen to stay silent on that subject as well.’
Harry stopped reading.
Four days had passed since Hermione’s death. Harry had spoken to at least six different Aurors, one of them Angelina, about the events that had taken place. They had interviewed Myra and Darius as well, but neither of them had much to add to Harry’s story and since they were ‘mere Muggles’, most of the weight was placed on Harry’s version.
He hadn’t told them about the emotional conversation with his dead best friend since it didn’t have any bearing to the Aurors’ case and besides, it was far too personal of an issue. For four days, the words Ron had said to him had echoed through his mind.
‘I never blamed you. You were the best friend anyone could have.’
His heart had broken and mended at the same time with those words. Ron had told him that he wasn’t to blame. After years of thinking that it was his fault, that he should have done a better job protecting his best friend, it was hard to hear.
The Aurors had collected Hermione’s body and taken her wand. The body of Desdemona D’Razi had been found in a room next door to where Hermione had held Draco, Harry, Myra and Darius prisoner. Ron’s body had been taken to be buried for real this time. No one knew how Hermione had managed to get a hold of the body in the first place, but the general theories were that she’d taken it either before the funeral or in the chaos that followed the final battle.
It didn’t matter anymore.
Ron had said, ‘We’ll be together soon, Hermione. I loved you, too,’ and now they were together. Harry wondered if Ron had known what was going to happen. Perhaps time didn’t exist in death, the way it did in life.
Most magazines and newspapers, from The Daily Prophet to The Quibbler and Teen Witch were filled to the brim with articles like the one he’d just been reading. Some articles were more accurate than others – The Daily Prophet had stayed unusually true to the real thing this time while Teen Witch accompanied the article with old shots of Harry on a broom, playing Seeker for the Gryffindor team, making the girls swoon yet again, even though he didn’t look like that anymore.
“They’re writing about us,” Harry said. “All the different papers and crappy magazines.”
He sat in Draco’s room, just as he had for the last four days. His voice was quiet as he spoke, as though he wanted to talk to Draco yet at the same time, he didn’t want to disturb his peace. “They’re saying that I saved the day again. Me. They’re wrong about that, but Darius is a ‘mere Muggle’, so he couldn’t do anything heroic, could he?”
He laughed hoarsely, his tone laced with bitterness.
“I didn’t do anything. I was thrown into a wall, I was trapped and I didn’t do a thing to try to get out. I am pathetic.”
He trailed off and watched Draco, his thumb stroking over the top of Draco’s hand.
“I finished the book,” he said after a while. “My book. Our book. You should have half the credit. You were my inspiration, my reason for writing it. I didn’t want to tell you about it because I didn’t want you to see it before it was perfect. Perfect like you.”
Again, he let the words die out as silence filled the room. He watched the rise and fall of Draco’s chest, listened to the soft sound of his breathing.
“You need to wake up,” Harry said when the silence became too much. “You have so much left to do. We have so much left to do. We have to go explore the world, you have to read my book, you need to open that café Myra suggested so that everyone in the world can eat your delicious desserts. We need to get to know each other and I will fall even harder for you than I already have. I love you, you know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I do. I love you so much.”
His voice broke.
“Just please wake up, Draco,” he whispered and looked hopefully at Draco. But Draco’s eyes remained closed, his hand still in Harry’s. Harry closed his eyes and placed a kiss on Draco’s hand.
There was a knock on the door. Harry called for the visitor to come in.
Darius was seated in a chair that was hovering a foot off the ground; the Wizarding world’s wheelchair.
“Hey,” he greeted softly.
“Hey,” Harry said. Attempting a joke, he said, “Did Myra actually let you out of her sight?”
Darius smiled slightly. “She’s outside.”
“Of course,” Harry said. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Darius said. “Healer Martin says I will get to go home in a few days.”
“That’s great,” Harry said. He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he had a feeling that he was failing miserably. Still, he felt the strong need to keep the conversation going – and either way, he had to find out if Myra and Darius were an item or not for real now. It was as good a time as any to ask.
Darius flushed at the question and couldn’t keep the grin off his lips. That was enough of an answer for Harry.
“I never thought she’d actually…” Darius said, trailing off dreamily. “She’s too good for me, I still think so. But she seems to think I’m good enough, so who knows.”
Silence spread in the room. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. Harry’s attention was on Draco, his thoughts drifting through memories of them together, ignoring Darius to the point where he had actually forgotten that Darius was in the room.
“Were you scared?” Darius asked, looking at Harry.
Harry was startled out of his reverie and turned to Darius. “Yes,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “I still am.”
“I was terrified,” Darius said, his voice quieter than usual. “I was in shock, too; I think I still am a bit. A magical world, right here, in London – it was hard to grasp. Even now, after you’ve told us more about it, it is still quite— amazing.”
“I’m sorry that your first meeting with it was so— violent and unpleasant,” Harry said softly, looking Darius in the eye. “I’m sorry I brought you into this at all; it isn’t your world, you shouldn’t have had to deal with my god-awful past.”
“Hey,” Darius said, moving up towards Harry and placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “none of that. Myra already had this discussion with you – we’re friends, this is what friends do. We help each other.”
Harry didn’t have the energy in him to start an argument with Darius.
“Besides, if you hadn’t taken us with you, you might be dead by now,” Darius continued. He shuddered at the thought and Harry realised that it was true. He hadn’t thought about that; he’d only thought of how he’d brought his friends in harm’s way. “And I would still be pining after Myra, too scared to actually make a move.”
Harry attempted a smile at him. Perhaps Darius was right.
“I’m still sorry,” he said quietly.
“No harm done,” Darius said, another gentle smile directed towards Harry.
Harry glanced pointedly at the hover-chair Darius was sitting in.
“No permanent harm done,” Darius said, rolling his eyes. He nodded towards Draco as he continued. “So how is he?”
Harry looked at Draco’s pale face, still half covered in gauze. “He’s…” He trailed off, his eyes widening. “Draco?”
Draco emitted a soft sigh and Harry felt the hand he was holding move just slightly.
“Draco,” he said again, his voice filled with hope. “Come on, Draco, you can do it. You can wake up.”
Darius was watching, hovering closer to the bed. “Is he—”
Harry looked up at Darius briefly and nodded. “I think so.”
They both turned to Draco. Harry saw as he moved his head just a fraction to the side, his eyelids fluttering.
“Come on,” Harry mumbled again, “you can do it.”
As though encouraged by Harry’s words, Draco’s eyelashes fluttered again, another sigh, a pained one this time, falling from his lips. Then he blinked and opened his eyes.
“Draco,” said Harry and cupped his cheek gently.
Draco closed his eyes again, squeezing them shut.
Harry looked at Darius. “Go get a Healer,” he said. “Or tell Myra to find one.”
Darius nodded and turned his chair around, floating out of the room.
“’arry,” Draco mumbled, his eyes still closed. He leaned into Harry’s touch.
“Shh, take it easy, take it slow, I’m here,” Harry mumbled. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead.
“’urts,” Draco said, his eyes opening slightly.
“I know, you’ve been through the ringer for real this time,” Harry said, his eyes filling with tears; happy tears. “They’re getting the Healers now, so they’ll give you something that will make the pain go away, okay?”
Draco gave a tiny, barely-there nod. “You— stay,” he mumbled.
“Of course I’ll stay,” Harry said. “I’ll stay always and forever, I promise. I love you.”
“’ove you too,” Draco mumbled and closed his eyes again as he dozed off.
When the Healers came, Harry kept his promise to Draco; he never left his side.
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