Chapter 14: 14 - The Horrible Truth
Contrary to the powerful appearance she gave off in the Great Hall, Amelia Bones turned out to be a very personable woman. Her stern edge was not unlike Professor McGonagall's, it just wasn't as severe unless she wanted it to be. While the interview was long and involved, it was more of a meeting of the minds than anything else.
While Harry was surprised that the arrest had taken place so soon after disclosing the problem to Sebastian, he soon learned that there was a very good reason for it. Sebastian's first action was to take the memories to Amelia for her viewing displeasure, and she was truly steamed by what she saw. She immediately assembled a team of Aurors to investigate – only to discover that it wasn't strictly necessary.
Many of the younger members of the department had also once been students of Severus Snape, and were witnesses in and of themselves.
The assigned Aurors had then canvassed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – and indeed the rest of the Ministry – in the space of two days, gathering names and memories as they went. It wasn't a long process, and when combined with what the twins gathered over the Hogsmeade weekend, having an arrest warrant issued was a slam dunk. They never even had to look to the general populace.
Harry was surprised by this, but he really shouldn't have been. It was quite simple when he thought about it: Snape had essentially been digging his own grave, makings consummate enemies of three quarters of British magical society during their young and impressionable years. Nobody was going to miss the chance to pay him back for all the abuse; Harry was merely the pebble that started the landslide.
Though the atmosphere was much more pleasant after the Headmaster left, Harry still greatly appreciated Fleur's presence. She stayed close to him the entire time, and defused his bouts of temper with surprising ease. Apart from that, she just listened silently, having recognized that the interview had little to do with her.
The meeting ended just before lunch, and the mood in the castle was jovial, to say the least. While most Slytherins were sullen and angry, as could be expected, the rest of the school was positively buoyant. The students universally celebrated the fact that they would not have Potions with Snape for the foreseeable future – if ever again – and it was infectious.
Of course, the incident also had other repercussions that were much less pleasant.
For one, the rumor mill no longer needed to spread Harry's status as Fleur's boyfriend, and everywhere he went, people were talking about it. He could not escape the giggling girls – or the scowling ones – and it was truly irritating. He imagined that Fleur was probably having much the same problem with the boys, not that that was different from any other day.
Hermione was a godsend, constantly deflecting questions and comments. Lavender and Parvati were the worst offenders: they badly wanted gossip fodder, and Harry was disinclined to give it to them. In the end, Hermione had to threaten to have a prefect deduct points to get them to leave him alone.
The real downturn, however, was when Fleur held him back as they were leaving the Great Hall that evening.
She was unusually quiet during dinner, and did not participate in the conversation. For most of the meal she stared off into space, her distant gaze on nothing in particular. Occasionally Harry would catch calculating looks from her, but he didn't think it anything bad – it was more like she was puzzled by something, and he could admit that he was a bit curious.
Then, as they were walking through the Entrance Hall, she gently dragged him to a halt and signaled for Hermione to go on without them. Of course, Ron was a bit more thickheaded about it and had to be dragged away, but that was no great surprise. The twins had long since vanished to their next troublemaking endeavor, and Neville was stuck to Hermione like glue, so they were no trouble.
She waited until the Hall was mostly clear of students, and then–
"'Arry, is zere somewhere we can talk?" she asked nervously.
Harry frowned up at her. "Sure," he shrugged. "Where do you want to go?"
"Somewhere private?" she requested. "I do not zink you will want ozzers to 'ear zis."
Her reticence unnerved him, but he nevertheless nodded and beckoned for her to follow. There were few truly private places in the castle, and the kitchens would be their best bet on this occasion; the elves would be busy cleaning up after dinner, and no student would be hungry enough to wander in for a snack. It was one of the places in the castle where one could speak relatively freely, at least if one was on good terms with the elves.
In spite of the situation, Fleur's curiosity was evident as he led her to the painting that hid the entrance. A small smile appeared on her face when the pear giggled and turned into a doorknob, which gave him a small amount of comfort. Whatever she wanted to discuss, it wasn't so bad that it had completely dimmed her enjoyment of life.
Perhaps fortunately, Dobby was apparently off cleaning somewhere, so there wasn't an overexcitable House Elf to deal with on this occasion.
He requested tea for two from the one that did approach him, and led her to a small table in the back of the room where they could speak comfortably. Silence reigned for several minutes while she collected her thoughts; the only sound was the distant clinking of dishware as the elves went about their business. She appeared to be very disturbed by something, which worried him.
"Fleur?" he prompted after a while. "Is something wrong?"
She turned to him with a heavy sigh and hesitated, absently spinning her teacup with her fingers. As she studied him, he reflected that he'd never before seen her so nervous. It reminded him of how he felt when he asked her out, but he doubted that it had such a pleasant cause. And sure enough–
"I am not sure 'ow to ask zis," she said plaintively. "Papa told us not to discuss it wiz you, but..."
Harry stared blankly at her for a long moment, his cheeks losing color as her meaning sunk in.
There was only one thing he could think of that Sebastian had asked the family not to question him on, and it was nothing good. He'd known this was coming – they were getting married, and she would eventually find out – but he was completely unprepared. He hadn't expected it to be so soon.
But as he thought it through, he realized that he couldn't deny her this. Had anyone else asked, he would have shut the conversation down without hesitation, but this was different. Whether he wanted to talk about it or not, Fleur was going to be his wife, and there was no getting around that fact. Didn't she have a right to know what she was getting into?
Harry knew full well that he was not a normal bloke, and that he had no concept of things like family and love. One of his greatest fears, in fact, was that because of it, he might not be able to give her the life she deserved – or worse yet, that he might turn out like the Dursleys. He had to tell her about it, if only so she could be prepared.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, and forcing down his emotions, he met her gaze again. "You want to know about my relatives, right?" he asked tentatively.
Fleur nodded hesitantly. "You were not 'appy when ze 'eadmaster mentioned zem," she said, and then her voice fell in volume. "What 'appened, 'Arry? What did zey do to you?"
Suspicions confirmed, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. If there was any one subject that he despised talking about, it was this one, but it was unavoidable. The problem was, he wasn't at all ready to tell her about it. He'd barely known her for a week in any meaningful context, and even Hermione, who had known him for so many years, was completely unaware of this particular truth about his life before Hogwarts.
Surprisingly, though, even searching deep within himself, he found no real fear. If her father was any indication, she would not react badly, or at least not toward him. She would undoubtedly be angry with the Dursleys, but then, who wouldn't be?
Sucking in a deep breath, Harry forced himself to open his eyes again. Her brow was crinkled in concern, quite obviously directed squarely at him. Why she cared so much was one of the biggest questions he had about her, but he told himself that he would find the answer in due time.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked hesitantly. "It's not pleasant."
Fleur nodded, never breaking his gaze. "It affects you greatly," she said. "I wish to understand."
Harry stared at her in silence for a long moment before finally looking away. "You know they were my guardians before, right?" he asked quietly.
"Oui," she confirmed, "and I understand zat zey did not want you, but I do not understand why, or what zey did to you."
Harry nodded absently, distracted by her simple statement. Why didn't the Dursleys want him? Why did they treat him so badly? That was one of his burning questions, and one that he expected he would never have a proper answer to. Was it even worth knowing?
"I don't know why either," he admitted softly, "but Dumbledore left me on their doorstep after my parents died, and I don't know why they kept me. Vernon used to threaten me with the orphanage, but he never actually went through with it for some reason."
Closing his eyes again for a moment, Harry let the memories wash over him. He could clearly recall his terror at those threats when his young mind imagined an even more horrifying place, but in retrospect, it would have been best if the bastard had gone through with it. No matter if it was the worst orphanage in Britain, his life would undoubtedly have been more pleasant than it was on Privet Drive.
When he opened them again, Fleur was still watching him silently, concern etched into her beautiful features. For once, he was tempted to drop his barriers and allow her allure to overcome him just so he wouldn't have to talk about this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"They weren't nice people," he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "They– They hate me, Fleur. And I don't mean they dislike me. They out and out hate me."
Fleur reached the short distance across the table and took his hand, and the comfort he felt at the gesture made him close his eyes again, even as he continued. "It's- It's hard to talk about," he whispered.
"You do not 'ave to," she said gently. "I will not force you, but I would like to know."
Eyes still closed, Harry nodded; he would not escape this conversation, and even if he did, it would only happen later. Wasn't it better to get it out of the way now? Then, at least, he would no longer have to worry about it...
"To them I was- I was just a freak," he whispered bitterly. "I was a worthless burden they had to put up with. They didn't even give me a bedroom; I slept in a broom cupboard until I got my Hogwarts letter."
"You slept in a broom cupboard?" came her horrified whisper.
"Yeah," he sighed. "And giving me that cupboard was probably the nicest thing they ever did for me."
Fleur made a strangled noise, and her grip on his hand tightened, but Harry tuned it out as he tried to master his tangled emotions. It was, in some ways, easier to actually be in the situation than it was to talk about it. Talking meant that had to think about it, and thinking meant that he would feel.
For so long he had avoided feeling anything at all on the subject, because it was the only way he could survive. Had he allowed himself to actually deal with those emotions in his younger years, he probably would either have run away and died on the streets, or simply killed himself in a desperate act of self-preservation, as ironic as that would have been. He could recall the many times he'd spent in that cupboard staring at the ceiling, wondering if he would see his parents again when he died...
The silence stretched as his thoughts wandered, until finally Fleur gave his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him of her presence. He took a deep breath and did his best to center himself. The sooner this was over, the better, and so he screwed up his courage and forced the hurt as far away as he could manage.
"I was pretty much their slave, Fleur," he finally said with a resigned sigh. "I did the cooking, the cleaning... Whatever they wanted. And if I screwed up..."
There was a brief silence, before– "What?" her soothing whisper washed over him. "What did zey do to you?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found that he was momentarily at a loss for words. How did one describe such things? He could not make them any less horrifying than they were, but no words would ever do it justice. It was too horrible.
"They beat me," he whispered hoarsely in the end. "If I burned the food, they beat me. If I dropped a plate, or even just made a noise..." Shaking himself out of his pain-filled memories, he forced some strength back into his voice. "It's just the way it was," he decided. "Like I said, they weren't nice people."
But as hard as he tried to be strong, his voice still cracked. He dimly registered that he had never before spoken of this with anyone. Even Sebastian had gotten it directly from the Dursleys, and so far as Harry was aware, he and Director Bones were the only two other people who knew, at least if you didn't count the Dursleys themselves.
Strangely, it felt good to have admitted it to someone.
He wasn't sure why, but even without knowing Fleur's reaction, he felt vaguely lighter for the experience. There was so much more to say – so much more that would explain the sheer horror of his existence prior to Hogwarts – but even just admitting that much was a surprising relief. Not that it made it any easier to handle...
He expected either an angry or disgusted reaction from her, but he got neither. Instead her hand disappeared from his, making his stomach sink, and he dared not open his eyes to see what she was thinking. But then, a moment later, he felt the bench shift beneath him, and her arms wrapped around him in a warm and comforting embrace.
Her hand came up as she pulled him close, gently cradling his head as he rested it against her chest, and it was only then that he realized that his cheeks were damp. Tears were not something he was very familiar with – they were not tolerated by the Dursleys – but a few had leaked out, to his own surprise. It was all he could do to keep the flood at bay as she held him.
"I am so sorry," she whispered in his ear, her own voice catching painfully. "I 'ad no idea it was so bad."
"That's not the half of it," he whispered back. "They blamed me for– for everything. I– I don't–"
"Ssshhhhh," she interrupted soothingly. "It is over now. You will never go back to zose batards. Papa will not allow it, and neizzer will I."
Harry nodded faintly and lost himself in the comfort she was offering. He wasn't certain what he should be feeling; part of him was relieved at having actually said it, and another part was horrified that she knew. All he could do was pray that it would not end up hurting him in the end.
The silence continued for a long while, and though they drew curious glances from the elves, they were thankfully left to their own devices. Fleur simply held him, saying nothing, and Harry allowed himself to enjoy her soothing warmth. It was surprising how good it felt.
Finally, though, she pulled back, and he opened his eyes to find her looking nervously at him once more.
"'Arry," she began haltingly, "does it– does zis bozzer you?" She swallowed a lump before clarifying, "Being 'eld?"
Harry's brow furrowed as he considered the question. Had she asked him that two weeks ago, his answer would have been undeniably affirmative, but then she came along and changed everything. He doubted that he would ever be comfortable like this with Hermione, but Fleur was different in ways that he didn't even begin to understand.
"I don't think so," he said distantly. "I think– I think I like it, actually, it's just–" Frowning, he searched for the words to explain what he was feeling. "I didn't know it could feel like this," he admitted softly. "It's just– different, with you."
Fleur smiled gently at him. "I am glad," she told him as one of her hands came up to cautiously brush his cheek. "I do not want to make you uncomfortable."
"You don't," he said honestly. "That's why it's weird."
Fleur's smile widened slightly, and with great difficulty, Harry forced himself back to reality. They'd been here for a while, and it was likely well past curfew. He needed to get back to the tower before one of the teachers came across them.
"Could you– could you not tell anyone?" he requested tentatively. "About my relatives, I mean? I don't want people knowing about it."
"Of course," she nodded. "It is your secret, 'Arry. I will not tell anyone else."
"Thanks," he sighed. "We should probably get going before we get in trouble."
Fleur agreed only reluctantly, but soon they were making their way out of the kitchen. She held his hand all the way back to the Entrance Hall, where she paused only long enough to brush his bangs back off his forehead and smile at him. "I will see you in ze morning," she offered. "Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome," he said simply.
When they separated, Harry made his way back to the tower in a daze. Fleur was confusing at the best of times – let alone the situation they were in – but the more he saw of her, the more he thought he could really like her. Whatever had just happened, it had left him with a warm glow, even if he was still a bit strained and emotional, and he couldn't explain it.
All he knew for certain was that he wanted more of it, preferably without all the angst.
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