Chapter 42
The Sword
Filled with rage, Harry pressed forward into the Dark Forest. He could feel his dormant store of magical energy bubbling up inside him as his fury grew hotter at the thought of Voldemort's hands holding Draco captive. Occasionally, Voldemort would pull Draco's arm roughly causing the blonde to stumble and gasp in pain, which only stoked the fires of Harry's anger.
Son of a bitch bastard, Harry growled in his mind, his fist and jaw tight. Keeping his eyes on the concealed path before him, Harry fought to keep himself outwardly calm.
"Where is it?" Voldemort hissed after a minute of walking.
Harry purposefully didn't respond and kept on pressing forward. If he was honest, Harry had no idea where the Sword was. He was merely walking deeper and deeper into the Forest, hoping he would either stumble upon it, or the mysterious Voice would speak to him once more. But with every step, he was becoming concerned he was leading them fruitlessly.
Voldemort spoke again but this time his voice was further behind. "Where is it?"
Harry paused and turned to see Voldemort had stopped a few metres ago, holding Draco hostage before him. Harry's heart tore into pieces at the fear in Draco's eyes, staring at Harry. The fury within Harry threatened to spill over.
"If you don't answer, I will cut off one of your precious lover's hands," Voldemort threatened, twirling a knife in his free hand.
Draco sucked in a breath of fear, while Harry's eyes burned with hatred. "If you so much as cut off a strand of his hair, I will kill you."
"Oh really?" the sly bastard drawled, before swiftly grabbing the hair at Draco's nape and pulling hard.
Draco yelped in pain as his head was forced upward, and his pale slender neck was left completely exposed.
Harry growled furiously. "Get your hands off him, you son of a bitch!"
"Where is the Sword?"
"We're going to it!" Harry snapped. "We're almost there!" It was a lie, of course.
Voldemort let go of Draco's hair. "There now, that wasn't so hard," he mocked. "Lead on, O Gryffindor King."
With one last agonising look into Draco's eyes, Harry turned back around and headed deeper into the Forest, hating that he had no choice. If only Draco was left behind, then Harry was sure he would have destroyed Voldemort by then.
After another handful of minutes of futile searching, Harry still had no clue where the Sword was, and he was utterly lost. All sense of bearing fled him; he couldn't determine north anymore. He was sure Voldemort would offer his complaints soon.
"I don't think you quite understand my impatience, Potter," Voldemort spat finally. "If you are deliberately misleading me, you can rest assured your little Prince will never see the light of day again."
Harry spun and glared dangerously. "Don't you dare—"
"Perhaps you need a little incentive," the evil man remarked with a sly look in his glinting eyes.
Dread filled Harry as he watched Voldemort sheath his sword and instead pull out a much smaller, much thinner wooden weapon. Harry would have laughed at such a nonthreatening looking weapon had he not seen Dumbledore with his own similar tool a few months ago. But he was aware of the power capable in a wand. And as Voldemort pointed his coal black wand at Draco's head, Harry felt paralysing fear numb his entire body.
His eyes shot wide in terror. "NO—!" he began to shout.
"Crucio!"
Draco screamed.
"DRACO!" Harry roared.
The blond dropped down to the ground and began writhing in excruciating pain under the unnatural power of pulsing red light shooting from Voldemort's wand. Roaring with fury, Harry rushed forward to slam into Voldemort but found he couldn't move. Some invisible force was forbidding any step forward. So all he could do was watch; watch as the person he loved most in the world was driven to the edge of sanity under unbearable pain.
One word stood out among Draco's screams. "HARRY!"
Harry was in hell. His heart shattered into pieces. Every part of him was screaming out to help Draco. Tears escaped his eyes. He remembered his vision of Draco suffering under Voldemort's wand from months ago and hated himself for not foreseeing it.
Then, Voldemort started laughing and Harry lost it.
"LET GO OF HIM, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
Voldemort, smiling, released the spell. Draco's screams cut off, his breathing harsh as he began whimpering and curling his spine to protect himself from further agony. Harry couldn't bear to watch Draco and kept his hard glare fixed on Voldemort. He noticed that Voldemort suddenly looked a little more haggard. As if the effort of casing that curse was great.
"There now, that was fun, wasn't it?" Voldemort asked.
"I'm going to tear you apart with my bare hands, you son of a bitch," Harry threatened with all the abhorrence he possessed. His jaw was clenched. "I'm going to kill you."
Voldemort nodded mockingly. "Yes, of course, but first you need to take me to the Sword. And now that you know I'm not to be trifled with, I think you'll be very cooperative indeed. One wrong step and little Draco here will pay the consequence."
Voldemort turned to Draco and kicked him on the leg. Harry clenched his fist.
"Come on then," Voldemort told Draco, "The fun's not over yet and you are proving to be very useful indeed."
Clearly struggling with the effort, Draco got back on his feet gingerly, wincing, and gasping. Harry saw his silver eyes were wet and his entire face was smeared with his tears. Despite the overwhelming urge to run to him and protect him, Harry knew the only way to end this hell was to find the Sword.
And so they pressed on, Harry praying they would find it soon.
It seemed like an eternity before he heard it.
"Harry Potter …" came the strangely familiar Voice from the Forest.
Harry's head whipped up in relief. Finally. Behind him, he heard Draco gasp in shock at the mysterious whisper of Harry's name.
"I have come for the Sword," Harry called to the Voice.
The Voice took a few seconds to respond, as if assessing Harry's request. "You are finally ready … Come, the Sword is yours …"
Guided by the enigmatic Voice, Harry led them further into the darkness, into the trees and shadows. They were so far from the exit back into the Nullius, Harry began to wonder if any human had set foot here in the last millennium.
"It is your destiny," the Voice spoke once more, this time louder than Harry had ever heard it before.
Harry's heartbeat sped up. They were close, he could feel it.
Before the thought had even finished registering in his mind, Harry slipped around a tree and his gaze was caught by a most incredible sight.
For a moment, Harry felt his breath catch. A deep founded feeling of raw emotion overwhelmed him. Suddenly, he knew this was an ancient and sacred place.
In the centre of a grassy clearing, an enormous golden Sword hilt protruded from the earth, blood rubies encrusted on its tip, waiting there for over a thousand years for someone with Harry's blood to come claim it.
His ancestor had forged and fought with it. Now it was Harry's turn. His very identity was found in the Red Sword.
A rush of livening energy rushed in him. He could feel the magic in the Sword crying out for him, inviting him. It was an intoxicating sensation.
"Oh yes ..." came the snake-like hiss from Voldemort as he too stepped into the clearing. He sounded drunk. "Oh I can feel it … That magic …"
"Harry?" Draco asked, staring at the Sword hilt with wide, confused eyes.
Voldemort slapped Draco across the cheek. "You dare speak in the presence of such magic!"
Furious, Harry rushed to Voldemort, sword drawn.
"Uh-uh-uh," Voldemort said in a sing-song manner, holding his own sword against Draco's throat, having swapped his wand for his blade once more. "One step closer and your precious Prince's head comes rolling off."
Harry stopped mid-stride, gaze burning daggers as he stared murderously at Voldemort. "Threatening Draco's life is not what's going to get me to obey you, you bastard," Harry growled.
"On the contrary, that's exactly what will make you obey. Your pathetic attraction to this creature is your undoing. Your Achilles Heel, so to speak. You see, Harry, I have always been on the firm belief that love is the worst thing any man possess. And here is your proof. Love is what is going to destroy you."
"You're wrong. You won't destroy me."
"Oh but I will," Voldemort hissed. "The best way to destroy a man is not by threatening him … but by threatening his loved ones. Even if I don't lay a hand on you, seeing me rip Draco apart limb by limb will wound you far more than if I inflicted pain on you."
Harry's heart sped up in horror once more. Every muscle he had tensed in fear. The bastard was right. Watching Draco suffer under the curse was horrifying enough. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive if Draco was broken. Draco's beautiful silver eyes were desperately stuck on Harry and it tore at his heart. Draco looked as if he was apologising to Harry and Harry couldn't bear it. None of this was Draco's fault. Harry knew he was entirely to blame if anything happened.
"Or maybe …" Voldemort continued in a fake pondering tone "... Seeing as how much your little Prince loves to take it up the arse …" His voice trailed off but Harry could piece together the rest of the sentence.
Draco's breath faltered and Harry saw red. Hatred and wrath coursed through his body. His hands formed fists, dying to rip the bastard apart.
"You sick fuck," Harry murmured, trying to keep his voice strong, but knowing it was close to wavering.
Voldemort laughed. The sound was chilling. "I am, aren't I?"
"Your battle is with me. Let him go. He's done nothing wrong."
"No, Harry!" Draco cried out.
Voldemort sliced Draco's face with his sword.
"NO!" Harry roared.
Draco's left cheek had been ripped open in a clean red split from his jaw to the inside corner of his eye. Tears began to fall down his face.
"Now what did I tell you about speaking? Hm?" Voldemort reprimanded Draco in a soft voice. "You must keep quiet."
"Get your hands off him!"
"Why? Do you have a problem with this?" Voldemort asked menacingly, sliding his sickening hands up and down Draco's arms. Then he leant close to Draco's ear and began whispering things to him Harry couldn't hear.
Harry saw Draco shudder as they maintained eye contact but the blonde kept his mouth shut. Harry could only imagine the filth Voldemort was telling him.
He decided now was his opportunity. The Red Sword's hilt was only a few feet away from him and if he didn't act, then Voldemort would only continue to threaten and antagonise them both. Harry needed to act.
Sending one last look in Draco's direction, and seeing Voldemort still crowding close to his beloved, Harry leapt.
In the next three seconds, several things happened.
Voldemort looked up, his peripheral gaze caught by Harry's sudden movement.
Harry flung his weapon aside and reached down and wrapped his palm around the golden hilt.
And suddenly—incredibly—
Magic.
Pure, raw, pulsing magic flowed into Harry.
It coursed into his veins, pumping throughout his body, as if a brand new life-force was taking over him. The sheer force of the boundless energy rendered Harry completely overawed.
Then, with inhuman strength, powered entirely by magic, Harry pulled the enormous Sword out from the ground. There was something uncomprehendingly right about the power of the Sword in his two hands.
The Red Sword.
The Sword of Gryffindor.
Now rightfully restored.
Upon its unbreakable blade, the words GODRIC GRYFFINDOR were engraved.
Somewhere, someone gasped.
Harry recognised it as Draco.
He turned and looked up to see Voldemort and Draco watching him; Voldemort with a sneer, Draco in awe.
"Now," Voldemort spoke, breaking the silence. He placed his weapon against Draco's throat. "Give me the Sword, or I kill Draco."
Fifteen seconds ago, the sight of Voldemort's blade against Draco's throat would have terrified Harry to the point of obedience.
But something had changed.
What Voldemort hadn't expected when Harry drew the Sword, was that the Sword's magic would instantly indwell Harry at the first touch of his hand. Now, Harry had magic and power beyond Voldemort could know.
They were completely unmatched. And for the first time in Harry's life, he had the upper hand.
"Give me the Sword, Potter," Voldemort repeated. "Give me what is rightfully mine."
"Yours?" Harry echoed in a low, dangerous voice.
"Salazar Slytherin once wielded that Sword and overcame his enemy with it. It is only right if it is returned to me. As my ancestor once used the Sword to strike down Gryffindor, I will use it to strike down Gryffindor's Heir." Voldemort paused and gave Harry a meaningful look. "Yes, I am the Heir of Slytherin."
This was news to Harry, but he made sure his face didn't betray an ounce of surprise. He had thought Slytherin never had an heir. Riddle must be the descendent of an illegimate child.
"I don't care what you are," Harry growled. "Just get your filthy hands off Draco, or I'll make you wish your bastard ancestor died all those years ago. Consider this your first and only warning."
"Do you really think you can intimidate me?" Voldemort sneered. "You may have that Sword in your hand, but you don't know the first thing about it, boy."
Harry smirked.
"Now," Voldemort continued, pressing his blade a fraction deeper against Draco's skin, almost to the point of tearing it, "consider this your last warning. If you don't give me the Sword, you can bid farewell to your lover. I'll count to five." Voldemort shot Harry with a victorious look, already confident in his triumph. "One…"
Harry looked at Draco. The terror on his face was palpable.
"Two …"
Harry forced himself to close his eyes. He clenched the Sword tightly with his two hands. Focusing.
"Three …"
There was an exhilarating rush of magic. He felt it from his forehead to his toes. It was wild and heady and powerful.
"Four …"
Harry controlled the magic. Bent it to his will. Dumbledore had told him that when he finally got his hands on the Sword, he would know what to do. The old man had been right. It was instinctual. Harry just knew.
"Fi—" Voldemort's voice was cut off as if his lungs had locked. His eyes shot open in shock as he stared at Harry, and his grip on Draco relaxed a little.
"Draco, run!" Harry commanded.
The blond obeyed immediately, slipping free from Voldemort's suddenly unresponsive and limp grip and rushing toward and then behind Harry.
Harry moved forward, Sword drawn high. He withdrew the force of magic that had momentarily paralysed Voldemort. As soon as he could move again, the bastard held his own weapon up defensively, as if trying off ward off Harry, while a gradual and terrible realisation dawned on him. His evil eyes opened in shock. He realised he no longer had control. Harry had magic.
"I finally understand why you were so obsessed with magic, Tom," Harry said. "It's incredible. Like I can do anything and no one can stop me."
There was terror in Voldemort's eyes. Harry revelled in it. Then, as if Voldemort had realised he had run out of options, he suddenly rushed at Harry.
Draco yelped in fear but Harry was ready to block the first attack and strike back with his own.
They fought. The Heir of Gryffindor and the Heir of Slytherin, just as their ancestors had done thousands of years before. The Red Sword thundered in Harry's powerful hand, with a life of its own, as if releasing pent-up energy that had been constrained for an age. Every one of Voldemort's attacks were met and overcome with Harry, until Voldemort could do nothing but defend.
The fight was undeniably unmatched. For not only was Harry the best swordsman of the time, but the power of his newfound magic was fuelling each of his movements.
With a final lunge, Harry forced Voldemort down to the ground and flung his sword from his hands. Harry towered above him.
"Your end has come, Tom," he spoke in a low voice, eyes hard and full of hatred. "You have murdered my family, incriminated an innocent man, ruined my life and my friends', destroyed Draco's father, planned the destruction of an entire Kingdom … and almost killed Draco." Harry narrowed his eyes and pointed his Sword directly into Voldemort's chest. "This is for them. But before I kill you I just want you know, you were wrong. Love won't destroy me … Today, love will triumph."
And Harry, propelled by magic and love and the promise of a new future, thrust the Sword right into Voldemort's heart.
A huge burst of light erupted from the Sword, enveloping them in its warmth. The war that had begun with Godric and Salazar was finally, rightfully, finished. The centuries-old tension was finally relieved. The war finally over.
As Voldemort's life left him, Harry felt a renewed burst of magical energy and he breathed out a large sigh. When the light subsided, Voldemort lay dead and Harry stepped away, filled with relief, shock, fatigue and fulfilment.
"It's over," he breathed. He dropped to his knees and released the hilt of the Sword on the ground. Raising his eyes up to the heavens, he saw something he hadn't expected to see. The sun. It was shining through the once-impenetrable trees of the Forest, illuminating the clearing in its warmth. The ever-present grey cloud that had always hovered above the Dark Forest for thousands of years had finally disappeared.
Harry got up and turned, eyes catching on the exhausted figure of his lover watching him. He felt all the love he had for this man overwhelm him. He couldn't believe he had almost lost Draco. Seeing him alive and safe now made Harry weak with relief.
He crossed over to him and knelt beside him.
"Harry," Draco whispered, a tear slipping down his beautiful face.
Harry gathered Draco in his arms and embraced him tightly, desperate for palpable proof that Draco was very much alive. The touch of Draco's skin was warm and reviving. "I love you. I love you so much," he breathed, kissing Draco's soft hair, running his hands all over the man in his arms.
"I love you too," Draco whispered into Harry's neck.
"I'm sorry." Harry felt his own tears fall.
Draco pulled away gently, his face concerned and loving. "Why?"
Harry lifted a hand and rested it gently against Draco's beautiful face, remembering every detail, overpoweringly thankful he hadn't lost Draco. "You suffered."
"It doesn't matter."
"He hurt you." Harry winced, physically aching at the memory of Draco in pain. "He used you to get to me."
"But it doesn't matter," Draco repeated, kissing Harry's palm, "because you won. I knew you would. You're still my hero."
"I don't deserve you," Harry said, stroking Draco's jaw, careful to avoid the long ugly cut Voldemort had torn into Draco's cheek.
"But I'm already yours, so don't you even think of changing that," Draco responded softly, with a barely visible smile on his face. "Kiss me, Harry."
And he did. Harry locked their mouths together desperately, exploring Draco all over again. The feel of Draco in his arms, alive and warm and his, sent Harry's heart soaring. It didn't matter what came next, it didn't matter what just happened. Only the moment mattered and Harry couldn't help feeling like, finally, all was right in the world.
Draco's kiss was more magical than anything the Sword could give him. His small breaths against Harry's face were the best thing Harry had ever felt. He couldn't believe how much one person could mean so much to him, but Harry knew Draco was at the centre of his world. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for this man.
"Marry me," Harry whispered against Draco's lips.
Draco stopped moving and opened his eyes. He pulled back a fraction, but Harry held him close. "What?" he breathed. He stared with eyes as wide as plates into Harry's deeply sincere gaze.
"Marry me, Draco," Harry repeated, leaning forward to kiss him softly once more. "I don't want to live without you. I can't. I need you … more than anything in the world."
"But … Harry … we can't. What are you talking about?"
"We can," Harry corrected. "We can do anything."
Draco's eyebrows dipped down a little and he licked his lips. "Harry, I love you. You know that. But think about this. You're talking madness. Think about all the people—"
"I don't care about them. If I have to live another day without you, I'll go mad." Harry searched Draco's magnetic eyes desperately. He leaned in for another deep kiss and caught Draco's lips. "I only want you."
Harry kissed him hard, as if desperate to convince him. The decision to propose marriage was impulsive and strange and completely different, but Harry couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew he wanted this.
Draco pulled away after a long moment with a small smile on his face. "Stop distracting me," he whispered.
"I'm sorry," Harry breathed in return, still nuzzling Draco's lips and nose. He wasn't sorry at all, just completely infatuated with this man. "Marry me," he asked again. He tried for a kiss once more but Draco put a gentle hand over Harry's mouth to stop him.
"You are a crazy man, Harry Potter," he said with a smile.
"And completely in love with you," Harry added, locking their eyes. He kissed the palm Draco was holding up to stop his advances.
"And what about Ginny?" Draco asked, dropping his smile.
"She knows about you. She knows I love you."
Draco's eyebrows went up. "She knows? And?"
"She left me."
Draco's mouth opened in shock. "And what about … the … baby?"
Harry shrugged. "It's still my child, and Ginny is still its mother … but we're separated." Harry took Draco's hand. "I can't be with anyone else, Draco. And I can't … bear the thought of you with anyone but me."
Draco closed his eyes and released a breath. "Harry, you're talking of things that just can't be. This is … crazy."
"I know it is."
"It's just not done."
"Draco, our whole lives have been lived for us. We hardly make our own decisions. This is our turn. Do this with me. Marry me."
Draco looked at him with a strange mixture of concern and yearning, as if half of him just wanted to pretend Harry had never proposed marriage, while the other half wanted to say yes. Harry hung on the precipice, waiting for Draco's next words. He was suddenly terrified that his answer could be no. He hadn't given himself time to worry but now in the silence, Harry's heart was pounding. For the longest time Draco said nothing. Harry felt like a starving man waiting for a scrap of food. What would Draco say?
Draco didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned in close and kissed Harry hard, colliding their lips together. He raised himself on his knees, keeping their mouths locked, so that Harry found himself lifting his head skyward to kiss him. Draco's fingers buried into Harry's hair while Harry cradled Draco's hips. Harry felt drunk in the kiss. It was almost a little frightening how much he adored this man.
Eventually, Draco pulled away and looked down at Harry. Harry's entire field of vision was of Draco's face.
"I don't know what or how it's going to happen," Draco began, gently carding his fingers through Harry's locks, "I don't even know if it's possible … but my answer is yes."
Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. He released his quick breath of air, surprised to find he'd been holding it in. A smile pulled at his mouth. "Yes?" he echoed, wanting to hear it again.
Draco smiled down at him. "Yes, you foolish, crazy, insane man, yes."
Harry let that sentence register in his mind, before suddenly scooping Draco up in his arms and embracing him tightly. Draco's laugh filled the clearing as he locked his arms around Harry's neck, and Harry couldn't help but laugh with him. The look on Draco's face was one Harry would never forget; joy, warmth, love. Harry found it hard to believe that such an incredible person could ever be his.
"I love you."
Draco lowered himself down so that he and Harry were now level and kissed him. "I love you back." Then he burrowed himself into Harry's frame. Harry sighed in complete content, holding Draco close. He couldn't believe it. He hardly deserved someone as incredible as Draco, but that didn't matter. Because nothing now could keep them apart. Draco was his and Harry wouldn't let Merlin himself stop that.
They stayed this way for a long moment. There was nowhere else Harry wanted to be.
After an amount of time Harry couldn't measure, Draco looked up into Harry's face. "We should probably head back. They still don't even know what happened with my fath—Voldemort," Draco said, a look of sadness crossing his face at his mistake in name.
It hit Harry how Draco must have seen the events of the afternoon. Voldemort had indwelt Lucius' body, so when Harry looked at the man, he had known it was Riddle, but Draco had seen his own father. How else was he supposed to interpret the situation?
Harry's heart broke for Draco. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Draco when Voldemort had him under the agonising curse, or threatening to do unspeakable horrors to him. Draco must have thought … his own father…
And now, Lucius was dead.
"Draco," Harry whispered, holding Draco tighter against his chest, "I am so sorry."
"For what?"
"Your father."
Harry felt Draco tense up and then shake his head slightly. "No, don't be. He made his own choices. I barely recognised him anymore. My allegiance for the past few days have been with you, Harry. I couldn't side with a man who practically sold his soul to the devil."
Harry kissed him on the forehead, then raised his head to look at him. "You are far braver than I could ever be." He ran his fingers lightly near Draco's wounded cheek and hated that it marred his face. "You should get that cut treated." With a slight smirk, he added, "I know a pretty good healer who might be able to look after it. He's healed my own injuries before."
Draco smiled, understanding. "Then he must be absolutely brilliant," he remarked playfully.
"Oh, he is." Harry stole another kiss and pulled Draco in to deepen it hungrily.
But Draco pushed back. "No," he said with a small laugh, "Stop it. We need to go back."
Harry groaned and sighed. "You're right." He let Draco up, following him upright.
Draco took his hand. "Come on," he said gently.
"Wait." Harry crossed to where he had dropped the Sword and picked it up again. He saw Draco eyeing it curiously.
"About that," Draco began, "you have a lot of explaining to do."
Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair. He really should have expected this. "Like what?" he asked innocently.
"Magic?" Draco prompted, his expression completely sceptical. He may have seen it with his own eyes but Draco didn't have a clue what it really was.
Harry laughed and took Draco by the arm. "Later," he promised. "I'll explain everything later."
To Harry's relief, Draco didn't object. Together, they retraced their steps out.
-mp-
Next Chapter: Epilogue.