Redemption
Chapter 2
By Kinsfire
They conjured up chairs as Harry sat in his own, and the silence lengthened painfully. Finally Ron spoke again. "I guess it's up to the one terminally without a clue, and tactless to boot, to get this rolling." He looked at Hermione with a grin, and she blushed slightly. "Why New York, chum?"
"Because it wasn't England and the Wizard's World over there. Here in America, they look at the Voldemort business as something that was a European problem. We solved it on our own, so why should they even care about some piss-ant little wannabe wizarding dictator? Broke one bastard's jaw when he started talking about how Riddle was nothing, that real wizards would have been able to deal with him easily. Let's just say that I put some power behind my punch."
"You didn't answer the real question, Harry," Luna said serenely, tilting her head slightly and letting her long blonde hair fall over her shoulder. "Why did you leave?"
He stared at her for a long moment. "I used to love that about you. Piercing the bubble surrounding the real question and answer. Now I find it somewhat infuriating."
"Answer me," she said, still serene, but in a voice that brooked no argument.
He glowered at the group angrily, and almost smiled as he realized that none of them were cowed. Of course not - these were the ones with me against Voldemort. If that couldn’t scare them, nothing will. "Let’s see — why did I leave England after killing twenty people? Why did I leave England after burning any bridges with Dumbledore? Most importantly, why did I leave when I realized that my failure had scarred you all permanently?"
"Ah." Luna said. "Fear. Understandable reaction. You need to know something about each of us, though, Harry." She looked to the others. "Since I began to mention it, shall I tell my story first?" They nodded grimly.
Luna:
The fight against Voldemort had been over for a week, and finally we’d finally decided on a Hogsmeade weekend. Yes, I know you know this part, but it helps me remember, all right, Harry? We’d been at the Three Broomsticks, and Madame Rosmerta had given us a table of honour. We sat to either side, as I recall, and kept switching seats as the day progressed.
I can still remember that toast to Neville. There wasn’t a dry eye, especially mine. Not verbose, but the emotion you’d put into it, at the loss of a great friend — well, we all know that words have a power all their own. "Remember Neville Longbottom, a true hero!"
I’ll admit that the good thing that I remember most about that day was getting up the nerve to walk over to you while you had your eyes shut. I was intending to brush your lips with a butterfly kiss, but you surprised me by putting your arms around me and kissing me rather thoroughly. A quick digression; just something I’ve always wondered about that — could you feel my heart pounding when you had finished that kiss? Yes, I know I’m blushing right now; memories of that kiss still do things to me. Why am I not surprised to hear you two ladies agree with me about the kisses he gave you?
The problem was when you headed to the bathroom to urinate. What? What is it about you men that you cannot call a simple bodily function what it is? "Shake the weasel", "water the flowers", "write your name in the snow". Silly, really, and embarrassing in a way. Then again, does anyone buy the "powdering our noses" excuse?
Back to what I had been saying. You left, and we stood to get some fresh air. We had all been drinking a great deal, and unlike you, some of us had tried the firewhiskey. We walked together as a group outside, where Ron decided that he really didn’t like firewhiskey after all, and chose to return it. We’d gone into the alley, so as to help him avoid some of the embarrassment. It was after he was done that we realized that we’d let our guard down, believing we were safe after Voldemort’s death. We each were hit with a dart, which served two purposes. First, it was drugged, to knock us out, and second, it was a portkey. Each to our own separate cell. Obviously, from this point on I can only speak to my own experiences.
Well, when I awoke, I was chained to a wall, and naked. Nude I don’t mind. Naked, though…
Well, my torturers were Narcissa Malfoy and some other woman. Narcissa was the brains of that twosome, which left the other one as the brawn. Be that as it may be, Harry, I accepted the torture, which drove them quite beyond reason, which may be part of the reason I survived - they were cooking up new tortures for me when you came along. I still bear the scars of their cruel knives on my chest. What do you mean what scars? Oh, that's right. I was covered in blood, and I can remember you murmuring "Oh, your beautiful eyes" over and over again. I remember seeing you as they came back into the room.
What? Harry, I'm a seer; I always have been. Think about it. I'm a see-er; I see things. For Hermione's sake I tend to refer to it as clairvoyance. Having Narcissa remove my eyes inconvenienced me because of the pain, but it didn't stop me from being able to see. You should be glad you didn't know what she said before now. I still remember it to this day, because it led to the last sight I saw with real eyes. She'd said, "I understand that your Harry Potter is rather enamoured of the way your eyes look. I'll do him a favour, and make sure he can always look into them." It was then that the spoon came at me and she very carefully extracted my eyes. I'll admit to fainting from the pain.
Anyway, I remember the snap kick from you, and Narcissa fell to the floor - you hadn't even needed your wand. I'd heard her neck snap many a time before. It was just more frequent the closer we got to the day it happened. Then you pointed at the other woman and shouted Expelliarmus as she stared at Narcissa lying dead on the floor, although Narcissa's head had not yet realized it. It may be evil of me, but I enjoyed the panic in her eyes as she realized that she was going to die. She'd been the architect of the scars on my body.
Okay, you don't know about the scars. That's true, I had the ones on my arms and legs regenerated, after Hermione and Ginny learned how to regenerate body parts. I left these scars on my chest, as a reminder of man's cruelty to man, and oddly enough, or maybe not, considering this is me, it's a reminder of how much I love you, and how much you loved me.
Thank you for the compliment, Ron. I told you you'd want a hat before the night was out. And thank you, Harry, for actually reacting, rather than sitting like a stone as you have been. It's not the reaction I wanted, but I'm still young, and so are you.
Actually, Hermione, no. I feel more comfortable this way. Although I am going to change my chair to something cloth, rather than this leather. Skin sticks to leather.
Harry's hand reached out slightly as if to trace the scars he saw on Luna's bare chest, and then he pulled back. She stood and walked over to him, close enough for him to touch her. "Harry, if you wish to, then do. I bear these scars because I was bold enough to call you friend, and because I love you. They are a badge of honour; a badge that only those I truly trust will ever see. Trace them, Harry. They are part of me, and will be until I die." She reached out and took his hand and placed it between her breasts, where all the thin white lines seemed to radiate from, although Harry knew differently. He let himself trace some of the lines, and could feel himself start to shiver, but hoped that she couldn’t feel it. It was then that he noticed…
"Luna, I remember hearing that they’d sliced off your nipples. Was that false?"
"No. When they were doing some of the regeneration, I let them regenerate the tissue of the mammary, and the nipples, because I hope someday to nurse children." She smiled. "A small bow to vanity."
"Not vanity," Hermione said. "I didn’t understand at first why you’d want to keep the scars, but I supported the decision once you explained. Not that you needed my support in the first place."
"Actually, Hermione, I did. Knowing that I’d thought through an emotional decision logically…"
"Not always the smartest thing to do," Hermione laughed. "I remember quite logically figuring out that Severus Snape simply had to be homosexual — and was rather surprised to find him one day in Diagon Alley snogging Madame Vector."
They tried not to react when they heard a quiet snort come from Harry. Luna looked at the assembled group and said, "Who’s next to explain?"
Ron spoke up. "I think I should go last, for obvious reasons. Ginny? Maybe you? You were more obviously hurt." He spun his head quickly, frowning. "I’m sorry, ‘Mione, I didn’t mean…"
"You’re absolutely right, Ron. My damage was not as obvious. Let Ginny go first, because you and I have similar stories that work well together."
Ginny:
Works for me, Hermione. Okay, before we go anywhere, let me just peel this dress off. First off, it should make Luna more comfortable not to be the only nude in the room, but more importantly, it should make two rather obvious points. Sorry about the grin; you know me and puns. They do stick out a bit, don’t they?
That’s the point, though, Harry. I’m healed. Yeah, I was tortured by six Death Eaters. I had so much blood loss that they didn’t know if I’d survive. No, there’s not a scar on me, because mine were more obvious, and I like to sunbathe nude.
They chained me up too. I don’t remember who my torturers were, except for seeing Crabbe’s and Goyle’s dads. I remember that I was surprised that I wasn’t raped. I guess they were having too much fun cutting things off me. I never understood why they went to the trouble to slice my tits off. Well, actually, I always did think they were my best feature, once I’d started to fill out, so that was probably why.
Okay, Hermione, the real reason I got rid of the scars is that I was a real mess, who couldn’t wear a long sleeved shirt and pants without feeling self conscious. They took to calling me ‘elf queen’ because of the charms on my face to hide those scars. I’m not as at ease with myself as Luna is. So when I heard that Hermione was working on regeneration magic, and had figured out what to do, I was her first human victim…sorry Hermione, volunteer. No, I can’t get this grin off my face.
Actually, yes I can, simply by looking at you, Harry. I had a crush on you when I was between the ages of ten and twelve. Then you started to treat me as a friend. I was lost, then. Harry, I love you so much that it hurts to see you like this. I love you so much that I would take the pain into myself, knowing it would kill me, just to see you happy again.
I’d dance at your wedding to another woman, knowing you were happy.
Yes, I know I’m crying, damn it. I love … we love you, Harry, and it’s killing me … us to see you in so much pain. I know I’ll never have your love, but please Harry, come back to us. Can I at least have your friendship again?
Ginny was crying now, and without thinking, Harry took her into his arms and let her cry against him. He realized quickly that it had been a very bad idea, because he could feel all his own unshed tears trying to break free of their prison.
She broke free of him, feeling the fight within him. "I’m sorry, Harry, I shouldn’t have…"
"It’s not you, Ginny. I haven’t allowed myself feelings since then. I was taught by the best that feelings are a liability. They get in the way when things need to be done. So I shut them off when the four of you were taken and tortured, and went in and killed all twenty of them. No feelings. I was a much better fighter for that. They were all dead before any of them could say anything to give the warning to the others. If I’d allowed myself feelings, then I’d have lost precious moments worrying about each of you, and then most of them would have been able to Apparate out."
"Then holding me closely to your chest and crying over my eyes was to make me feel better, and not because you actually felt anything for me?" Luna asked him with a piercing look.
He met her gaze for only a moment, and then looked at the floor. "Yes. I’m sorry."
Ron snorted from his chair. "Jeez, chum, I’m oblivious about reading other people’s emotions and I can tell you were lying! Pull the other one!"
Harry looked up, pain in his eyes. Suddenly he picked up his now empty bottle of butterbeer and heaved it as hard as he could toward the garbage can, where it shattered loudly. As they looked in shock, he sank to his knees and began to cry uncontrollably. "Damn you!" he sobbed.
He cried only for a few moments before he visibly pulled himself together. "I’m sorry," he said. "I’m not usually that weak. I’ll try not to let it happen again."
Hermione helped him to his feet, and then gently stroked his left cheek with the back of her right hand. "And we’re going to do everything we can, Harry, to make sure it does." Tears began to come to her eyes. "Ron, I think you should go next, honestly. Mine is the more horrific sounding tale, I think." Ron nodded his agreement.
Ron:
I really don't know what to say, Harry. They got me. I have very few scars on my body. After all, Trixie - sorry, my name for Bellatrix - Trixie seemed to have the fun of using Crucio on me; then again, as I recall, she liked to use that one a lot. Sort of a one trick pony, I think. I think she actually got off on that. She'd go all unfocused, and her breathing would get fast, and I noticed that her nipples would become visible through her robes, and she'd moan occasionally, and ... thank you, Ginny. It's still easy to slip back into hiding when I think too hard about the time that I was under their control.
You actually seem to register surprise that her "Harry needs you" was what brought me out. You never heard how I came out of it in the first place, did you? No, of course not - you were here, and I came out of it because I owe you big time.
Actually, Harry, there's another reason, but I won't tell you that one, yet. I don't think you're ready for it yet. We'll build up to that little shocker. No, Ginny, I am not carrying Harry's baby. It's been three years - I'd have given birth already.
You know how good it is to see that smile on your face, even if it was only a second or two long? Honestly.
I'm certainly not surprised that they drove me insane with pain. If they could do that to trained Auror's like Neville's parents, then what chance did I stand to stay sane? So I sat there and gibbered for two and a half years.
We've spent six months looking for you, you git! That's why! It's not like you made it easy to locate you. I sort of think that was the idea, right?
Gah. Here I am, screaming at you. I'm sorry. My main purpose was to tell you what brought me out of my screaming heebie-jeebies. You. These sexy young things walked into the room to tell me they were leaving. Yes, I include you, Ginny. I may be your brother, but I do have eyes. Why do you think I escorted you carrying a Quidditch bat?
Anyway, these three come in and sit with me for a while, and then Hermione broaches the subject. "Ron, we wanted you to know that we won't be visiting for a while. Harry needs us, and we're going to go find him."
They tell me I immediately focused and said, "How do you know that he needs us? Do you feel it too?" Yeah. I remember saying it, but I thought it took a bit longer to get to a coherent statement. Turns out all four of us could feel that you needed our help. So I told the little voice in my head that was trying to drag me back inside to hide from the pain; I told him to shut the fuck up, and let me get on with helping my best friend. I got my clothes from St. Mungo's, after telling them that they were not going to keep me for observation for another six months, thank you very much. The Minister for Magic came to make sure I was all right, and then sent me home.
Why am I smirking when I say that? The man they chose to replace Fudge after he was murdered was a bit unlikely from most people's point of view. Percy held the job as an interim thing, and was mildly depressed to see how fast they voted in someone to replace him permanently. Yes, we're talking with Percy again - he's still a bit of a prat, but at least he's not a thundering arse-hole anymore. No, I'm not telling you who it is. Consider it incentive to come back to England, if only long enough to stop in on Mum and Dad and the rest.
Seriously though, chum. It was knowing that the impression that you were in trouble was not an hallucination that brought me out into the real world again. They've said it, and I will too, Harry - you did everything for us. You rescued us, and brought us out alive. We owe you everything, if only for that. But we all love you, Harry, and we'd all die for you. Friends are that way.
Don't look at me that way. If you knew that going in to save our lives would have cost you your own life, would you have sat back and said, "Damn, I'll miss them"? I didn't think so. You'd have walked in there just like you did, and saved as many of us as you could before you were killed. So how could we sit back and watch you die one day at a time?
Harry was stunned by what Ron had said. He could feel the tears coming again, but he ruthlessly quashed them, even more viciously than before.
"Not gonna work, chum," Ron said. "Your facade started to break while you were fondling that redheaded bit of fluff over there ..."
"Fluff, am I?" Ginny huffed as she walked over to Ron.
"Fluff, I said. Your facade started to break, and we're not leaving you until you either tell us to leave, in right mind enough to make the decision without trying to hurt yourself even more, or when we've helped you out of your own private hell."
"Fluff?" Ginny asked again dangerously, and then began tickling her brother, who began to try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she obviously had years of practice with this. Luna grinned and joined in, and it rapidly devolved to the three of them rolling on the floor.
Harry watched this for a moment, and then walked into his kitchen to find another butterbeer. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Hermione standing behind him. He handed her the butterbeer and reached for another one.
"Problem, Harry?" she asked.
"I have two incredibly sexy nude women on my floor in there, tickling my best friend, and I am unbelievably aroused watching that. So I thought it best to step away, for privacy's sake, if nothing else."
Hermione put her arms around Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. A moment later, she murmured with a slight giggle, "Mmm, yes, I can tell you're aroused."
"Hermione!" he said, finding that he wasn't actually as shocked as he tried to sound.
Hermione:
I'm sorry, Harry, I couldn't resist.
You really don’t get it, do you Harry? You have three women here who love you. Who love you so much that they would gladly die for you. Gladly, mind you. If any one of the four of us knew that our death would bring you back from this hell you’ve driven yourself to, we would go to it with a smile on our faces.
I see by the look on your face that you’re remembering how you found me when you broke in on the Death Eaters. I also know that you and I had talked about some of the ways our first time might be, and taking me tied down was definitely one of them. Me tied down with Draco Malfoy raping me for the third time, while Crabbe and Goyle, and whoever the hell else they had there waited their next turns was definitely not one of them.
I think the closest I ever came to being scared of you was watching you as you gave those ... well, I'd have said Neanderthals but that would insult Neanderthals, but I think you get the gist of my choice of epithets against them. Watching you grow those poles from the stone floor, I didn't know what you were going to do with them until I saw you lift that Death Eater off the floor. Watching that sharp point come out his mouth was a little disconcerting. Actually, it was bloody terrifying, Harry.
Then you remembered some of our other conversations, from when we'd had those conversations about tortures through the ages, and you shortened and blunted all the stakes. I nearly retched then, Harry, but then I looked at Draco. Somehow, even then, that little fucker thought he was going to escape to live another day. My throat was raw, for the same reason that I was bleeding from my vagina and anus. If I'd been able to, I'd have cheered as you dropped him onto that stake.
Is it evil of me to enjoy the fact that he survived long enough for the Aurors to come and tsk over his predicament?
I think Ginny mentioned that I'd been working on regeneration magics. Well, you need to know why, Harry. All that they did to me, the things they used to rape me, other than their own foul bodies, well, the damage caused me to miscarry whoever's child it was. And unable to bear children of my own.
I was damned if I was going to let Draco and his ilk take that away from me. I want children, Harry, and I worked day and night to perfect the charms and spells that are starting to be used at St. Mungo's now.
I can see it in your eyes, Harry - what does my desire for children have to do with you? That's what your thinking right now, isn't it? You've always been so blind to how you affect people.
Harry, I admit that I want you healed for one very good reason; a very selfish one. You and I have never made love. And I want to bear your children; as many children as you want with me. Even at my worst, when I wouldn't let you near me, I've loved you. I wouldn't let you near me, not because I thought you'd hurt me, but because I didn't feel worthy of the most wonderful man I've ever known.
Damn - now I'm crying. I helped put you in this prison you're in, and I'll help you tear down the walls I helped to build. Even if you don't love me anymore. I can do no less for you.
He held her as she cried. He was stunned by the revelation. He'd left because he thought she'd hated him for his intense cruelty toward the Death Eaters. To find out now ...
The howl of pain started somewhere deep in his gut, and he barely had time to activate the silencing charms before it escaped and he sobbed himself into insensibility.