But Harry did.
He looked Draco full in the face. "I'm sorry," he said again, the sound a rasp of pain and resolve. He knew what it was to lose a parent... but that wasn't going to stop him when it came to Lucius, it just wasn't. Unable to bear those silver eyes a moment more, Harry closed his own, turned his face into the warm, soft wool of his father's cloak, and wept.
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Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:
Chapter Forty-Eight: Truthful Dream
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
Chapter 48: Truthful Dream
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=5036&chapter=48
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A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Forty-Eight: Truthful Dream
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It seemed to Harry that Snape let him cry forever. The man didn't chastise him for being such a baby, or tell him nice lies like that everything would be all right. He just held him against his chest, the arm around him warm and comforting, and let Harry shed through tears the pain and frustration that had for so long knitted his soul.
When at last the storm ended, Harry raised bleary eyes and looked around, blinking. "Um... where's Draco?"
Snape pulled Harry back to him when the boy would have moved. "He left a few minutes in. I suspect he thought it wasn't quite right for him to stay and witness such a personal moment."
Harry grimaced. "Bet he hates me now. Oh God, after what I said, he might even want to go back--"
"To Voldemort?" Snape shook his head. "He hadn't yet joined Voldemort, you must understand. It was simply expected of him. And too, he knew long before tonight that your anger toward Lucius was without limit."
Harry shivered. "Yeah, but saying I'd kill his dad... I mean, as much as I think Lucius a right bastard, even I could tell how awful it was to say that to Draco."
"Why did you say it, then?"
Harry stiffened and pushed away, that time ignoring Snape's attempts to draw him back into an embrace. He rubbed his cold hands together, then looked down, expecting them to be charred despite the chill he felt in every finger. All that anger, fire practically pouring through me... but no, his hands looked fine, though they ached with a sort of bone-deep intensity.
"I had a... I don't know. It was almost like a vision, except it wasn't actually visual, if that makes sense. I just suddenly knew, Professor. I am going to kill Lucius Malfoy, just like that."
"I sincerely hope not," Snape sternly averred, the words so unexpected that Harry gaped until it came to him why the man would speak that way.
"Oh, I know I'm no match for him now," Harry admitted, shaking his head. "It's not like I plan to go asking for trouble. Even when my magic's back in full I don't know that I could take him on; I've a lot of learning left to do." His voice thrummed with intensity. "But someday, he's going to pay for what he's done to me--"
Snape took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake so firm it seemed to jar him out of the fantasy he was falling into. "Don't speak that way, Harry. His crimes against you are heinous and deserve to be punished, but you are not jury, judge, and executioner fused into one. You're angry and venting it, which is most likely healthy, but becoming obsessed with revenge is not."
"He and his kind cost me my parents and a decent childhood and any chance I'd ever have to have someone of my own!" Harry cried, wrapping his arms around himself and rocking to and fro as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Snape pulled him back and hugged him tight, arms curled around him from behind even as Harry kept hugging himself. "You have someone of your own," he reminded the boy, his voice intense. "I know the other still hurts, and this... it isn't the same as you would have had with James. But you are not alone any longer, Harry. You have someone who l-- cares about you enough not to let you do this to yourself!"
"Do what?" Harry cried, thrashing a bit, little good that it did him. Snape held on fast.
"Let anger turn you into someone you don't wish to be," Snape said, his tone low, earnest, and sincere. "It happens bit by bit, Harry, so slowly that you can't see it from inside yourself, but this is the start, this thirst for vengeance at any cost. I will not quarrel with you if you hate Lucius, or wish him dead with all your heart, or fight with all your might to bring him to justice for his crimes. But we will have a quarrel if you take it upon yourself to determine what is justice, if you mete it out."
"I'll wait until I'm old enough to take him on and win--"
"No," Snape urgently demanded. "No, Harry. If you devote yourself to a cause like that, you'll wake up one morning the Dark Lord's equal in a way you weren't marked to be." Snape's callused fingertips reached up to trace Harry's scar, the touch so careful that the boy felt made of blown glass. "What do you think made Voldemort the way he is, but lusting after vengeance against those who had offended him, and their kind?"
"But I'm supposed to kill Voldemort!" Harry yelled, twisting in Snape's arms so that he could see the man. "What's the difference if I kill Lucius effing Malfoy as well? I'm already fated to be a murderer!"
"You're going to slay Voldemort because he'll give you no choice!" Snape roared. "You know that! The prophecy itself speaks to it. And if you kill Malfoy in the same way, namely, in self-defence, you'll have my blessing! But not like this, not for revenge!"
"You know what he did to me," Harry grated, his face wet and warm once more, though he couldn't remember when he'd started crying again. It had been a while since he'd really thought about Samhain, but the mask and robe had brought it all back, every last thing. "You were there!" Harry accused, though he truly didn't blame Snape for any of it. "The needles... oh my God, those huge, sharp needles sticking into me everywhere! And then the fire, trying to burn me like it was the Middle Ages all over again--"
"I know," Snape quietly vowed, his eyes shining with regret when Harry looked at him. "But Harry, I know something else. You will hurt yourself much worse than Lucius can ever do if you let hatred take control of you."
Harry turned, unable to bear the sight of Snape so concerned, so very worried. Was this what it was like to have a father? You did what you thought you ought, and then ended up feeling just awful afterwards when your dad told you you were wrong, told you why?
He didn't mean look at the dreadful charred mess on the floor, but that was where his gaze ended up. Ugly, it was so ugly, what he had done. And then to say he'd do it to a person, and not just that, to a friend's own father? Of course, Lucius Malfoy was a snake... no, that wasn't right. To call Malfoy a snake was an insult to sweet little Sals. Which reminded Harry.