| Title: | Wasteful Sacrifices | Author: | AJ McKay | Rating: | PG-13 | Pairing: | Harry/Bill | Summary: | From the death of the Dursley’s to the final battle Harry deals with fear, anger, and love. | Warnings: | Cursing, Detailed Death | Author's Notes: | First and foremost I would like to thank Caput Draconis for being a wonderful, insightful, and understanding Beta. Also, this story was finished and first archived in January, 2004.
It's an entry in the Harry/Weasley FQF. #60-The Dursley's have been killed and it's too dangerous for Harry to stay at Hogwarts or the Burrow. He and one of the Weasleys (as a guardian) are placed under the Fidelius charm with another as the secret keeper. What happens while the spell is in effect and does the secret keeper/guardian/both take the opportunity to get to know Harry better? (by dragonsoul_77) | Story: |
Harry was swaying like a paper doll in the slight breeze that crested over the small hill. Red eyes, that had once held all the malice and madness of the man-creature, were now vacant and bore into Harry. Voldemort was still standing in that ridiculous pose with his right hand clutching Harry’s sister wand, but he was as stock still as a Greek statue. The man christened as Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead, as dead standing there as Harry was alive that fact was certain in all parties’ minds, which at the moment only included the Boy-Who-Lived. So much had happened. Harry had come so far from the moderate home at Number Four Privet Drive. A very long way actually…
The strange sounds were what woke Harry up and kept him awake. It was not one sound exactly, but a queer motley of popping and fizzing, sizzling and squishing. Not very pleasant sounds for one to wake up to, these not pleasant sounds were what greeted Harry into the waking world. Footsteps clumping, people whispering, a pitiful squeal that Harry could have sworn belonged to his corpulent cousin, and from all this Harry deduced he was in serious danger. And for once he had no idea of how to get out of this mess.
Harry was glad he had sneaked down to his cupboard that very evening. The reassurance of the total darkness surrounded him, musty blankets barely able to keep his body warm, and the feel of little legs belonging to spiders crawling over his bare skin, brought a peace of mind to him in a way one could only find in the familiar and known. These feelings were that of a man-child who was slowly surrendering to the paranoia and grief brought upon by the death of his beloved godfather little over a year before this night. All caused by a madman fated to kill or be killed by no other, but himself. The fear that clenched Harry’s heart that night was his certainty that the Death Eaters had broken the ties that protected his protected home at the Dursley’s, who were most likely the recipients of those awful noises he had woken up to.
“I’m safe here,” Harry whispered softly to himself in denial of his own predicament. His reassurances were futile as he strove to withdraw further into the alcove of familiarity. The words he had just spoken lay hollow and bitter on his tongue.
Muffled footsteps sounded from the hallway outside Harry’s haven and he held his breath hoping for the intruder to walk past, but that was not the case.
“Potter,” the voice was barely heard and he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t due to his imagination. As he sat there, wondering, his body began to shiver. He wished the human skin was tougher and more resilient to outside forces such as cold and fear.
“It’s Professor Snape,” the voice continued just as quietly as the first time, “Albus told me I’d find you under the stairs.” This time Harry blamed the voice on reality and not his vast imagination.
“I’m here,” was all Harry said. His throat muscles really wouldn’t work for anything harder than a few simple answers. The boy-child heard a slight creak of the small door leading to his haven and the dull moonlight game him the impression of his hook-nose professor. Snape was a grown man and Harry was certain that he felt quite cramped in his cubby hole.
“My colleagues,” he sneered, the venom evident in the older man’s voice, “are still searching up the stairs and have no clue to your whereabouts. You’ve chosen quite the hiding place or at least I thought it was a hiding place until I bumped into a bed. I begin to wonder upon the sanity of these Muggles you call family. Then again your family…,” the professor paused briefly, seemingly searching for a choice of words, “is not apt to practice such eccentric behaviors anymore.”
That was all Snape would say unto the demise of the Dursleys and, frankly, Harry did not care.
“Albus sent a Portkey in the shape of a safety pin, which will activate upon your touch,” Snape’s voice rung with a bit of urgency. Harry could hear the deep breaths of his hated Potions Professor. He used his sense of hearing to reach out and clasp the man’s robes. In the blackness of the cupboard Harry relied upon his sense of touch to find the other. He dimly realized it would be the first time he willingly touched the man. Snape grabbed Harry’s hand and slipped a small metal pin into his open hand. Harry felt the familiar tug around his midsection as he was whisked away from Number Four Privet Drive…
Harry wished he had a Portkey now. To be able to escape from the corpse of his fallen enemy. Voldemort had taunted Harry at first and used legilimency to delve into the crevices and secrets of Harry’s mind. He’d never fully been able to defend himself against such an attack. The vile man-creature had spoken about Harry’s parents and his godfather. With his words he painted a picture of the torments Harry’s friends would suffer the battlefield that day. Hermione, Ron, Lupin, the Weasley’s, his favored Professors, his close classmates, the Order, and Dumbledore were pulled out of Harry’s mind. One by one Voldemort dissected the gruesome fates that awaited his friends and family. The battlefield between the Order and Voldemort’s faithful was strewn with blood, but on that small hill so far away from it all Harry could not see those close to him and he felt himself losing his grip on hope. It wasn’t until Voldemort has spoken about him and how Harry has sent the poor man to his death without truly being able to taste the fruits of love. Harry’s soul became enflamed by these cruel and harsh words and he reacted like the Prophecy predicted he would. Either he would die or Voldemort. Harry’s only thoughts in those moments were that Bill had better be alive or…Harry really didn’t know what…
Harry needed a trustworthy Secret-Keeper and a guardian. Dumbledore had been adamant on both parts. His reasoning was that the Weasley clan was more trustworthy than any family, so he enlisted the help of two of their elder members-Bill and Percy Weasley. Bill as the guardian, due to the fact he was the only likely candidate to keep Harry somewhat up to par with his classmates’ studies. The eldest Weasley had been a top Hogwarts student and with his wide range of interests he could teach almost any subject to a certain degree. Percy had been changed ever since Cornelius Fudge had fallen off his personal hero pedestal. He was now loyal to his family and disloyal to anyone who dared insult or harm them-including Harry. Dumbledore had explained to Harry that with Bill as a guardian and Percy as his Secret-Keeper that Harry’s safety would not be compromised again. They really were the best of choices.
Things were thus settled and the three were whisked away to their comfortable and small safe house where the Fidelius charm was performed without a hitch. Percy exited, leaving Bill and Harry to learn to live with one another.
Over the following months Bill taught Harry, Percy apparated in once in a while with news and supplies, and Harry became aware of his growing sexuality. It seemed like ages before Harry Potter realized his growing attachment to one Bill Weasley. Bill was intelligent and fun. He was smart and good-looking. His earring and dark eyes were incredibly sexy. He made Harry laugh and most importantly, he made Harry feel safe. A safeness he hadn’t possessed since he resided in one certain cupboard under a certain set of stairs…
After the Dark Lord’s hideous taunts Harry focused on one fact. Not a muscle twitched in his body besides the clenching of his left hand. As his fingers balled into a fist, he felt a slippery organ just within his grasp. Encased between his fingers and palm he squeezed and crushed the tender muscle. His short, stubby nails digging into the tender human tissue creating welts and blood dribbles as he felt the life slowly being drained out of his rival. Harry’s brain barely registered that he was doing the impossible. He hadn’t even picked up his wand nor had he touched Voldemort and yet he could feel the man’s heart giving away beneath his palm. It was almost like he’d cast a spell without a wand or any words of incantation. Voldemort lifted his left hand to futilely scratch across his left ribcage. As the man-creature raised his wand hand in order to attack the bane of his existence Harry gave one more viscous wring and Tom Marvolo Riddle stilled…
Bill Weasley stood stock still as his younger brother’s best mate poured out his heart, stumbling over the hard bits ad generally blotching the whole ordeal up like any normal teenager-almost man. Harry’s words slowly drifted into fractions and he finally wound up his speech.
“That was…” Bill knew he needed to say something, but what? “Harry, I really…you’re not…,” Bill was doddering with his words worse than Harry had been.
“I’m a hormonal boy who is infatuated with the only living, breathing organism in my personal radius. It’s not healthy, that’s what you’re trying to say,” Harry spat out and pivoted around to walk away.
“You’re not the only one infatuated, you know,” the words fell out of Bill’s mouth. He really should have given them more thought as he watched Harry freeze. The younger mans’ shoulders stiffened and his head turned slightly to the side-probably judging Bills’ words carefully.
This whole affair had started with a little innocent flirting with Bill finding out he actually enjoyed the company of his passionate charge. As soon as Harry felt safe from harm he’d opened up to Bill and then, maybe, the other man had fallen in love, he really didn’t know. Harry shouldn’t have felt this way in the first place, his declarations were unnerving to say the least…
Harry had somehow killed Voldemort without even laying a finger upon the other man. He’d squeezed Voldemort’s heart while standing ten feet away. Funny thing that the man-creature should even possess a heart.
“Bastard,” was all Harry had to say into those lifeless red orbs as he walked away…
Harry had walked away that day during the confrontation between the two house occupants and they had not broached the subject again for many months, but tension sparked the area during every chance meeting, which was quite often in the small house. Harry wondered briefly is Percy suspected anything from the way he acted around the him. Percy was always scrutinizing and analyzing his surroundings. The middle Weasley child had the same uncanny ability as Hermione for figuring things out.
Harry would not be the one to open up the discussion again. He knew what he felt and he had already admitted those feelings to Bill. Now, Bill had to figure out his own heart and decide if he wanted Harry in the same way.
One day, sometime in March, Harry was working on potions - even Bill knew a thing or two about that subject - when a weathered, freckled hand stopped his own in mid-stroke of the stirring ladle.
“You’ll ruin it,” Harry said matter-of-factly(,) without daring a peek into those hypnotic rusty brown eyes he was sure were boring into his own skull at that precise moment.
“You can redo it later,” Bill’s voice was lite with a slightly teasing tone. The teacher leaned over to his student and brought his full lips down upon the other’s. The kiss became harder and stronger as it lengthened. Bill nibbled Harry’s bottom lip and Harry licked Bill’s upper lip. The two moaned and teased each other for what seemed like an eternity.
Only a unwelcomed coldness greeted Harry’s lips as Bill pulled away…
Even with Voldemort’s death the battle still ran rampage, but Harry could clearly see that the Order was slowly and surely overtaking their foes - things would be over soon.
Harry slowly sifted through the individual skirmishes, content in staying out of most, but looking closely at the dead faces of the bodies he came across. Mad-Eye Moody was the first he recognized. The grizzled and life-battered wizard looked just as fierce in death as he had in life, but for one feature. Moody’s eyelids had been open, but neither his real nor his fake eyes adorned the empty crevices that sank deep into his skull.
When Harry had spotted Walden Macnair he’d almost didn’t recognize the executioner. The beastly man had been struck by some curse that had melted half of the his face and his right side. Harry didn’t know if he looked worse in death than he had while living.
What a fucking sleeping beauty Draco Malfoy turned out to be, but Harry really had not expected anything less than what awaited him. Draco had been a pristine and ethereal beauty in life with not a hair out of place and no mar on his personage. He’d fallen in a spot where no dirty soil marred him and not a single factor was out of place on the Slytherin student. If Harry didn’t know better he’d say his year mate had been just sleeping and not truly dead. Just like in a fairy tale…
Bill had such a pretty face. His cheekbones were high and his lips were dark and sensuous. Harry loved to clutch the older man’s silky locks as they kissed. His short, thick hands weaving and grabbing those long tresses as Bill held Harry about the waist like an anchor to the sea floor.
Harry wanted more than the caresses and the kisses - he wanted Bill Weasley in full, but Bill insisted on patience and the perseverance of time. Harry impatiently waited for the moment when Bill would be inside him or Harry inside Bill - either way suited Harry just fine. The young man needed the feeling of completeness that only Bill could give.
It took months before Bill showed Harry his skills at fellatio and it was a mind-blowing experience for his virgin partner. Harry decided then and there that nothing was quite like a good orgasm. He attempted to reciprocate Bill’s actions and mad a fair go at it, but he knew that with time he’d be able to completely repay his lover…
Harry had not wanted to leave the coziness of the hiding place, but Voldemort was on a death streak and needed to be stopped by the only one who could. The prophecy tied Harry to his fate in a way that no chains or steels could do to the young man.
Trelawney’s prophecy led many to meet upon a battlefield. Hermione and Ron had stood up with courage to fight along their friend - the long absent part of their trio. The time apart only proved to strengthen the bonds they had built up over their Hogwarts’ years. They fought for Cedric, Sirius, themselves, all they held dear, and, of course, James and Lily without whom victory of the Light would never have stood a chance.
As Harry stumbled through the small battles still going on, he spotted Ron and Hermione. She was tending a nasty wound on Ron’s leg and both were clearly exhausted. At Harry’s presence they turned questioning eyes upon him. Harry gave them a grim smile and slightly nodded - it was all he really could manage. Ron let out a sigh of relief and Hermione whispered something beyond Harry’s hearing range. They would spread the word of Voldemort’s defeat - Harry still had an unaccountable wizard to find…
“I won’t go,” Harry protested venomously, almost childishly. “I won’t live my life by some prophecy Trelawney spat out.”
“Don’t go then,” Bill said reasonably. Percy’s eyes widened as he watched the exchange. Harry glared at Bill and mumbled something under his breath - a few curse words to be exact.
“But everybody’s counting on you. Be reasonable, Harry!” As Percy’s voice rose in intensity it also rose in pitch. Harry was immensely glad his lover’s voice was deep and throaty and never broke in such an embarrassing fashion.
“Percy, he’s got his own free will and a stubborn streak worse than Mums. He’s allowed to make choices.”
“I’m not stubborn,” Harry broke into the conversation. He knew what his next words would be and he already regretted them. His earlier fuss didn’t matter much in the long run. He waited a few moments as the two brothers bickering between themselves.
“I choose the battlefield,” Harry said quietly. Two pairs of eyes bore into the young man. “Why did I have to be such a bloody Gryffindor?”
“I’ll be with you,” Bill spoke, while kneeling in front of the chair Harry sat upon. Harry gave his lover a half smile and then sighed. He wished he could lock Bill up in some exotic tower until everything settled down.
“I’ve got to collect a few things before we go,” Bill said, while standing up.
“I’ll go with you,” Harry meant those words now and forever…
A shallow ditch is where Harry found him and all he could think of was that Bill barely fit in such a small area. It took countless moments for Harry to reach out to his lover’s throat and feel for a pulse. Nothing. He shook his shoulder, but still no sign of life. He caressed his lover’s cheek but the skin was chilled. He kissed those tender, yet familiar lips, but no air passed between them.
“Wasn’t it supposed to be forever?” Harry sat by a body as lifeless as Tom’s had been. His right hand gently and reverently stoked a pale, clammy cheek over and over again, in a pathetic rhythm.
“I should have locked you in a tower,” Harry muttered. He was too tired to be sad or angry. He was too tired to do much else but reach up and close those eyelids over those rusty brown orbs. He’d not extended the same courtesy to Lord Voldemort-that would have required love and acceptance on Harry’s part.
“He wouldn’t have been happy anywhere, but helping you.”
Harry hadn’t noticed Percy come up. He was vaguely aware of the Weasley man kneeling behind and slightly to the side of him. He didn’t attempt to touch Harry and for that he was glad.
“I noticed it I think before you two even realized it yourselves. The actions spoke of lust, but the looks spoke of love. I watched - I’m pretty perceptive, you know - and I kept it a secret, knowing you two only needed each other,” Percy paused for a moment then continued. “He’s dead, Harry, and you’re alive. You’re going to have to get used to that rather quickly.”
That last bit sounded cruel, but Percy somehow must have known what Harry needed to hear. It was what broke his silence.
“Never enough. We were never complete. There was always more time, he said. Rushing things would only make them less enjoyable. We were never fully complete and not he’s dead in a ditch and I’m still alive, again, the savior of the wizarding world. The Fucking-Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived-Again, how fucking wasteful.”
“Sacrifices are not wasteful, Harry Potter,” Percy scolded, maybe a little too harshly, but it did the job. Harry would never forget…
The long fight of wills between Light and Dark was coming to a closure and Harry knew he’d meet Voldemort upon the battlefield soon. He knew that many lives would be wasted that day, probably people he loved. There was so much more to do and say. His thoughts ran to Bill and what the older man meant to him. He wanted so much from him and he knew that someday Bill would be able to give him everything.
“Don’t be so melancholic, love, live in the moment,” Bill exclaimed and laughed while watching Harry’s face go from complete concentration to one of joy. They would live in the moment and one day he’d convince Bill that there never was enough time.
| E-Mail the Author: | ajmckay@hotmail.com |
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