[Broken Glass Series] Chapter Four of 'Glassfall'- Bearing Tales

[lomonaaeren]

“Harry, can I talk to you?”

I knew this was coming. Harry manages not to have too much of an expression of strained patience on his face—he thinks—as he turns around in the Gryffindor common room to meet Ginny’s eyes. “I’m actually on my way to a study session.”

“This will only take a minute.”

Ginny is already walking away, so Harry just rolls his eyes and follows her. Ginny turns around right outside the Fat Lady’s portrait with her arms folded and her own eyes drilling into him. Harry stares at her and waits.

“How could you?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“How could you accept that monster as your father?”

Harry takes a deep breath, astonished to feel the defensiveness rising inside him. Defensiveness. For Voldemort.

But then again, he supposes that Basilisk, and probably Theo and Draco and Pansy, would say that it makes sense for Harry to feel defensive of him even if no one else does, because Harry is the only one Voldemort is nice to.

“I didn’t really have a choice. He found out and he came and got me and killed my relatives to do it.”

“There’s always a choice! You could have fought!”

“So he would kill me?”

Ginny falters for the first time. Harry thinks she’s probably thinking of the chaos that would follow Harry Potter being dead. People losing hope, no one to stand up against Voldemort, Voldemort coming back and reigning over the whole magical world.

No one to come and rescue her, if she gets in another spot of trouble.

Harry feels a little bad for thinking like that, but not as bad as he would have felt three days ago.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

Ginny flushes. “Just—there’s always a choice! That’s all! That’s all I really meant!”

“Oh, is that what you meant,” Harry drawls, and then sees from the way she freezes and stares at him that he probably resembles the shade of Tom Riddle still haunting the inside of her head.

But Harry isn’t going to go through the rest of his life scrutinizing his every action and reaction and word and idea and plan for traces of a Voldemort who might or might not be there. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I understand if you can’t be around me because of this. But I’m not going to let people die just because it would make you feel better.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that some people are only alive because of my—father. He promised to leave Ron and Hermione alone if I cooperated with him.” And Harry’s courtiers, too, but he doesn’t know how much Ron and Hermione shared with Ginny, and he doesn’t intend to give her knowledge she might not have.

“And me?”

“I think he’s leaving Ron’s family in general alone.”

“You didn’t ask about me, specifically.”

“No,” Harry says slowly. “You didn’t come up, except in a general way when we talked about—the diary.”

“You told him about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“He already knew some things about it. Lucius Malfoy told him about the destruction of the diary before he killed my relatives. But we had a few conversations about it, yeah.”

Those are among the strangest conversations that Harry’s had with Voldemort, and honestly, he would prefer not to have another one again. Voldemort seemed to—to want some particular thing from Harry. An apology? He wouldn’t be getting one. Harry defended himself and Ginny against a giant snake and a mad Horcrux, and he isn’t going to apologize for that.

Besides, most of it was Lucius’s fault anyway. And Voldemort has kept Lucius in his court, so he can’t be too angry at him.

“Harry!”

Harry starts as he realizes that he’s drifted away into his own head, thinking about what Voldemort wanted him to say in regards to the diary. He shakes himself and focuses on Ginny again. “Sorry.”

“What did you tell him?”

“He saw some memories of the Chamber, and he asked what I felt about the destruction of the diary. He didn’t seem that pleased that I’d destroyed it, but also not—not as angry as I thought he would be.”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“That you were possessed by the diary? Almost drained to death? What else would I have told him?”

Ginny shuts her eyes. For a second, tears glint around the edges of them, and Harry internally panics. He really doesn’t know how to deal with a crying girl. And maybe that shouldn’t seem so big to him when he’s dealt with lots of other stuff, but it is. He’s got through that other stuff. He doesn’t know how to deal with this.

“I thought I was more important to you than that,” Ginny whispers. “I thought—after the conversation we had last year about being possessed—after—I thought I mattered to you and we shared similar experiences.”

“This particular experience isn’t one I can share,” Harry says quietly.

And if he immediately thinks of the ways that isn’t true—the way that he shares things with his courtiers, for example—well, frankly that isn’t any of Ginny’s business.

“So you really don’t care about me.”

“Not the way that you want me to care.”

From the hurt breath Ginny draws in, that’s maybe too honest. But Ginny lowers her eyes a second later and nods. Then she turns and walks away as though she’s going to a funeral somewhere on the seventh floor.

Harry takes a deep breath and bends down to pick Basilisk off the floor. Basilisk flickers her tongue out. “You smell less pained than I thought you would.”

“She was a friend. Maybe she could have been something more. But there’s too much between us.”

“Something more?”

Harry would think she’s joking, but the bond is bright with the yellow of true confusion. “A mate.”

“You cannot mate with something like her. She is weak and would lay you weak eggs. Do you want the shells to shatter before your young come out?”

Harry can feel his face practically catch on fire. “I’m not looking for a mate, anyway.”

“You were the one who mentioned one.”

Harry gives up and goes to his study session. He can’t win either fight right now.

*

“I know you have something to do with this.”

Draco blinks and glances up. He has to admit, of all the people who could have approached him about this, he never thought Weasley’s sister would be one.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know you have something to do with Harry accepting a place as a Death Eater instead of fighting back.”

Draco could say many things to that, but he just ends up shrugging and saying, “Fine, I did. You can go away now.”

Weasley’s sister glares at him, her hands in fists. If they were anywhere other than the library, Draco thinks she would have started yelling at him by now. But even Gryffindors have a healthy fear of Madam Pince.

Weasley takes a step towards him, and a deep breath. “I’m watching you. If you set a toe out of line, I know what to do.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll curse you.”

Draco wants to snap something back, but something else occurs to him, more important, and he turns away as if he’s actually frightened of her threat, starting to scoop books and scrolls into his bag.

Weasley’s sister nods as if she thinks her ridiculous words scared him, and turns and stalks out of the library.

Draco leaves soon after in another direction, sending questions down the bond. By the time he reaches the ritual room where Harry Marked Pansy, his lord is already waiting for him, looking concerned.

“Are you all right, Draco?”

“I thought—I thought you should know—” Draco stops and swallows. His bond will reveal more confusion than fear, he knows, but he also knows that Harry will want to stop any fear he feels. Finally, Draco has come to trust that Harry will in truth, that this isn’t a trap with Harry running a long con to report back to the Dark Lord.

“Yes?”

“The female Weasel just came and threatened me in the library. Said she was watching me and she would curse me if I put a toe out of line, because I had something to do with making you become a Death Eater.”

Harry stares at him, his mouth dropping open a little. Then he says, “Have you ever even spoken to Ginny before?”

“We yelled a few things at each other in Quidditch matches, probably,” Draco says. His voice is hoarse and soft, and he doesn’t know why. He blinks and clears his throat. “I—I can’t remember ever speaking directly to her before today.”

Harry nods. His eyes are distant. “She came and talked to me, too, but I thought by the end of that conversation that she’d given up on—winning me back to Dumbledore’s side of the war, or whatever she was trying to do. She seemed to think I’m evil.”

“You’re the furthest thing from evil!”

Harry blinks at Draco, as if surprised by the ferocity of his defense. Draco is a little surprised himself. Harry clears his throat. “Well. Thank you, Draco.”

“You’re not. Some people would have used their position as the Dark Lord’s heir to punish everyone who had ever hurt them. And you not only didn’t hurt me, you accepted me. I don’t know anyone else with even an ounce of forgiveness.”

Draco is shaking by the time he’s done, but he knows that he means it. That’s the reason he feels the way he does. This intense relief that yes, he can trust Harry, and Harry hasn’t tricked him and won’t turn on him, and he can probably trust Harry more than he can his own father, who doesn’t care if Draco’s miserable as long as he’s in a position of trust close to the Dark Lord—

That Father doesn’t see how much happier Draco is with the Dark Lord’s son makes Draco feel as if someone has torn his eyes open and he’s seeing Lucius Malfoy for the first time.

Harry reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. Draco realizes he must have sent some of his own emotions down the bond openly enough to attract his lord’s attention, and blushes. But Harry just shakes Draco’s shoulder a little before he releases him.

“Thank you,” he repeats. “It’s good to know that you don’t feel forced to serve me.”

Draco doesn’t consider what he wants to do next; he just does it. He drops to his knees and gazes up at Harry, who looks horribly embarrassed. But this has to be said.

“It is the honor of my life to serve you,” he says softly.

Harry stands there so silent that Draco wonders if he made a mistake after all. But unlike some of the times that he’s wondered this in the past, he’s not panicked. Harry isn’t the Dark Lord. He would never torture Draco just because he made a mistake.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that!”

Draco blinks, and then feels his eyes widen. “My lord?”

“Of course I would never torture you for a mistake!” Harry’s eyes are wide, and his emotion in the bond is such a perfect mixture of anger and outrage that Draco isn’t sure which one is stronger. “Someone who would do that just—doesn’t deserve to have courtiers or followers or even friends at all!”

Draco can feel his mouth trembling a little, and he bows his head. “My lord, I didn’t say that aloud. You picked it up from the bond.”

“Is that a—bad thing?”

Draco suppresses the impulse to laugh hysterically. Harry is the only one who would ask a question like that, either. He shakes his head as he stands and reaches out to place his hands on Harry’s shoulders, the first time he’s touched his lord so since Harry became his lord. “It isn’t a bad thing. Only the closest bonds between lords and courtiers allow them to hear each other’s thoughts.”

“And you thought we would never get to that place.”

Draco isn’t sure whether Harry is picking that up from Draco’s bond or just thinking an (entirely true) thing. Draco nods without taking his eyes from Harry’s face. “Yes, my lord. I thought Theo would always be the closest one to you.”

Harry sighs. “It’s true that Theo is probably closer to me right now, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be, Draco.”

“Thank you,” Draco breathes. “And—Weasley’s sister?”

Harry hesitates, and Draco’s heart sinks a little. Maybe Harry is still close enough to Weasley and Granger that he would never do anything about Weasley’s sister threatening Draco, even though Draco burns with the need to avenge himself.

But then Harry looks up and meets Draco’s eyes, and Draco can’t help but bask in the protective urge that floods the bond.

“There’s something I can do,” Harry says quietly. “I would never do it under normal circumstances, because her just deciding that I’m evil and we were destined to be together but now we can’t be wouldn’t be enough.’

“What?”

“You know that I wouldn’t really want to hurt someone who’s related to Ron, Draco—”

“Not that. She thought you were destined to be together?”

Harry grimaces and runs a hand through his hair. “She had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, or the hero who came to save her in the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe both. Not really on me, though. And I destroyed her fantasies by—embracing my place as Voldemort’s son.”

Draco flinches at the name, but it’s an afterthought. Mostly, his thoughts are occupied with the extremely stupid thing that Harry just revealed to him. “I can’t believe that she thought she was ever worthy of you, even when she didn’t know that you were the Dark Lord’s heir.”

“Come off it, Draco. The Weasley aren’t bad people because they’re poor, or blood traitors, or whatever.”

Draco blinks, a little hurt that Harry thought that, but he can see why Harry would. He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. She wouldn’t be worthy of you even if you were plain Harry Potter and not the Dark Lord’s heir, and not if she were as wealthy as my family. She just—assumes things about you. Her crush is the crush of a fan on a hero.”

For a moment, Harry’s mouth trembles, and he stares down at his hands as though he thinks someone is going to hold them. Draco would offer, but the next second, Harry’s face is smoothing out, and he shakes his head. “Thank you, Draco.”

“For what?”

“For explaining something I didn’t understand myself. I’ll speak to Ginny.”

Harry starts to walk away, and Draco scrambles up and follows him. “You’re all right?” he asks cautiously. “I don’t need to ask Theo to come with you?”

“Why would you?”

“Theo is the best of us at balancing you when you’re in a stormy mood.” Not something Draco necessarily wanted to admit, given that he’s also Harry’s courtier, but he’s served Harry well in at least one way now.

Harry blinks at him and seems to pause for a long moment. Then he snorts a little and shakes his head. “I don’t need to be balanced, Draco. I have my Ancient Runes tutoring with Pansy right now. I’ll take some time to think about it and not just run off and blurt something out at Ginny.”

“She might know that I’m the reason you’re speaking to her.”

“She might. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

Draco might have found those words condescending months ago, but now, all he can feel is bone-deep relief. He still walks alongside his lord until they get to the old Ancient Runes classroom, which Pansy chose because it’s set up the best for the carving and practicing Harry will need to do. Pansy stands when they get there and curtsies, but then pauses, her eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Draco.

“Is something wrong?”

“Something I need to think about,” Harry says quietly. “But nothing that needs to affect you or delay our tutoring, Pansy, I promise.” He flashes a smile at her.

Pansy glances at Draco, but Draco doesn’t have a bond with her the way he does with Harry. Maybe he will someday if they get married the way they’ve sometimes discussed, but he doesn’t now.

Whatever Pansy finds in Draco’s face without the bond must be reassuring, however, because she turns back to Harry with a small smile. “Then let’s begin your tutoring.”

“Let’s.”

Draco lingers for a moment to make sure that his lord doesn’t need him for anything else, and then he turns and leaves, thinking as he does so that he sought Harry out for reassurance about Weasley, but didn’t expect to be able to give him his own reassurance.

I’m not useless as a courtier just because I can’t do everything that Theo can. I need to remember that.

*

“You do not want to do this.”

Harry strokes Basilisk’s side. They’re alone in the dorm for once, but then, everyone else is likely at dinner. “I don’t. But she’ll keep going if I don’t. I thought Ginny just hated me, and I could put up with that, but she threatened my courtier.”

“If she has given up on you and thinks you’re evil, why is she threatening anyone else? Humans do not make sense.”

Harry has to laugh. He hears a lot of chattering and laughter from below, in the direction of the common room, and he stands up and takes a deep breath. “A lot of times, we don’t. But now I need to manipulate someone, and make sure it works.”

“Let me know if I need to bite them.”

She writhes herself into place around Harry’s neck, a comforting knot of scales and warmth. Harry leans his cheek on her and takes comfort in her presence for long moments before he turns and goes down to the stairs.

A few people look up at him, but not many. Most of the Gryffindors seem to have decided that Harry’s fight with Ron and Hermione is old gossip and not interesting anymore. And they don’t know about his confrontation with Ginny.

That’s about to change.

“Ginny.”

Harry’s voice rings out over the swearing and joking and quiet murmurs of study in the common room. So many people turn to stare at him that he blinks. He thought he would mostly only attract attention after he started his “conversation” with Ginny.

Maybe I’ve learned more than I thought about how to command people.

Harry buries that thought, too, because it won’t serve him right now. Ginny is standing up slowly from a couch where she was discussing something with a fifth-year girl Harry doesn’t know. She’s biting her lip.

“Harry?”

“The next time that you hear someone doesn’t want to date you,” Harry says coolly, “you need to accept that refusal gracefully, instead of going around threatening people who had nothing to do with the situation.”

Ginny breaks out in red splotches of anger. The voices that died down now come back with a vengeance.

“What are you talking about?”

Oh, is this the way she wants to play it? Harry takes a long step forwards. “Malfoy told me that you threatened him. Why him? Do you really think that I would ever date him? But that was right after you were upset when I told you that I didn’t return your crush, so what else could it be connected to?”

Ginny opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. A few people start snickering, but most are still looking back and forth between Harry and Ginny as though hoping for some more entertainment.

“I—I didn’t threaten Malfoy because of that!”

“But you do admit to threatening him? I admit, at first I thought he was telling a stupid story, but I see he was right.”

“That’s not—that’s not right!”

“Then why did you threaten him?”

Ginny stares around the common room as if only really seeing their audience for the first time. Then she visibly chooses to fall over the cliff. “You—because he’s corrupting you. He’s trying to bring you to V-Voldemort’s side.”

Well, better than announcing he’s Voldemort’s son. Harry just lets his mouth drop open. “What?”

“You know that you’re evil!”

Harry turns around and looks at people. A lot of them are obviously uncomfortable now. Whatever they might have believed about him last year, joining Voldemort’s side wasn’t part of it. They thought there was no Voldemort. And now a lot of them know better, because of the reports on the Department of Mysteries battle in the Prophet, but that just makes them even less inclined to think Harry would ever turn evil.

“Are you hearing this?” Harry asks the rest of the common room.

“It’s true.”

That’s Ron getting to his feet. Harry turns to face his best friend—his former best friend—with his heart panging in his chest. He knew that he would lose a lot once they found out that he’s Voldemort’s son, but he didn’t know how much.

But he has to live with what he has. He’s Voldemort’s son, and Voldemort would only kill more people if Harry denied him. He can’t come up with the mythical solution Ron and Hermione want whereby he stays on their side completely and yet no one gets hurt.

But he has friends. He has courtiers. He has a familiar. He has a father.

He is worth something. Ron and Hermione are worth respect and trust, sure, but that means he is, too.

“What proof do you have?” Harry asks Ron in the best condescending tone he can muster. “This is going a little far because you’re upset I won’t date your sister, don’t you think?”

Ron opens his mouth, but Hermione is abruptly at his side, whispering into his ear. Harry is a little sorry for it. In a way, he’d like to have this out in the open, whether or not he’s confronting everyone.

But Ron looks around and visibly falters. Then he mumbles, “Well, you just are.”

“Harry is the best person I know.”

Harry can feel his face catch on fire. That’s Neville, who’s standing up from near the fireplace and wading into the fight. And even though Neville would blush and stammer most of the time because someone looked at him, he really has improved a lot in confidence since the D.A. meetings last year. He crosses his arms and stares at Ron and Hermione with no visible sign of discomfort.

“He’s stood up for you and me and everyone I know multiple times,” Neville continues. “He’s the one who made sure that we got a real Defense education last year, and taught us to cast a Patronus. And now he’s evil for not wanting to date Ginny?”

“That’s not why!”

“Then why are you saying it?”

Ron and Hermione and Ginny all glare at Harry as if he’s the one who set up this situation. Harry just shakes his head a little. They can glare if they want, but he’s not going to give them any excuse.

Then Ron swallows and says, “He’s Voldemort’s son.”

There’s an indrawn breath that runs all the way around the common room, and Harry feels as if he’s fallen off his broom. He even seems to hear the shrill whistle of the wind in his ears.

Then Neville bursts out laughing. And he doesn’t sound hysterical or like he’s trying to deny it. He just sounds incredulous when he says, “If you were going to come up with some stupid excuse as to why you’ve stopped talking to Harry, you could have managed a better one than that.”

“It’s true!”

Neville turns and studies Harry, who chokes a little at the way Basilisk has tightened around his throat. “Let’s see. No red eyes. No scales on his skin. He looks the same way he always did. Are you going to tell me that someone has been hiding him under the illusion of James Potter’s son all these years?”

“That’s just the way he looks! But You-Know-Who looks the same way!” Ginny blurts. They must have told her more than Harry thought at first. “And he has his mum’s eyes, everyone knows that, Lily Potter slept with You-Know-Who—”

“She’s mental,” someone loudly whispers to someone else.

“Sorry that your reserve Seeker is mental, Katie!” someone else yells at Katie Bell, who looks as if she would happily murder half the people in the room.

Harry takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “So that’s what you think of me,” he tells Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione. “Because I act a little differently than before and don’t want to tell you everything when you demand to know, you think I’m evil, and Voldemort’s son, and—I don’t even know what.”

“They’re the mental ones, not you,” Neville says loyally. Harry is starting to wish Neville had been his best friend all these years. “Of course you’re not his son.”

“He is! It’s true!”

Hermione has been furiously hissing into Ron’s ear, and now she clamps his arm and drags him off. Harry forces a light laugh and faces Ginny. “Are you going to say it again?”

Ginny seems to realize that she’s not going to get any support here. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and turns away instead of replying. Hoots and yelling and laughter follow her.

Neville claps Harry on the shoulder. “Are you all right, mate?”

“Yeah. I just—I can’t let her go around threatening other people over my supposed evilness, you know? Will you tell me if she threatens you?”

“Yeah, but hopefully she won’t. I can’t imagine that she thinks I had anything to do with your supposed evilness. Son of Voldemort.” Neville is laughing, and so is everyone else.

Harry manages a weak laugh, and trails up the stairs to the bedroom, dazed. He lies on the bed and lets Basilisk hiss and comfort him.

But nothing can change the fact that he is going to have to tell his father about this.