Author's Notes: Thanks go to my beta and to all those who sent feedback about the original draft of the fic at schnoogle or on my LJ. Your help is greatly appreciated.

Gold Tinted Spectacles

Chapter 8 - Sharing

By Beren

       

[Draco,] Harry said thoughtfully as he played absently with the sandwich he had summoned for lunch.

The blond head popped up from where the young man was reading a large, unfriendly looking text book and Harry found himself pinned down by his lover's grey eyes.

[There are some things I would like to share with you,] he said evenly, [but I don't know if you'll want to know them.]

Information flowed between them like water, but so far it was mostly current things and Harry had been feeling that there was something more that he needed to do. They had talked many times before they had bonded, but part of him wanted more: he wanted Draco to know him more completely than any normal human being could. His instincts wanted to know about Draco as well, but Harry did not want to force his lover into anything.

For a moment Draco looked at him appraisingly and then unfolded from where he was leaning on the bedstead and moved towards Harry. Still without replying Draco climbed back on the bed beside him and took his hand.

[Show me,] his soul mate's mental voice said calmly.

[Some of it's not nice,] Harry warned honestly. [I don't know if I can control it, I just know I want to show you things.]

[I know you came with baggage, Harry,] Draco said evenly, [so did I. I feel it too: it's time.]

Harry looked into his soul mate's eyes, seeing and feeling the unconditional love at the same time. There were no barriers between them, no walls and Harry felt the need to be known and to know.

[I love you,] he said resolutely and let the sensation inside him grow.

It was like an amorphous many-tentacled creature oozing through his mind as Harry let the instinct rise within him and it reached through his memory selecting times and places. The young man stretched out mentally to Draco and as their thoughts locked it began.

It started with an early memory, Harry recognised himself at no more than four. He was standing in the kitchen at number 4 Privet Drive: his knee hurt and he had been crying. Dudley had pushed him over in the garden, he remembered and he'd skinned his knee. Aunt Petunia had sent him inside with a reprimand for making himself a nuisance. No one was going to help him and he realised that if he was going to stop the pain in his knee he had to do it himself. Resolutely he wiped his eyes and his nose on the already grubby sleeve of the too big shirt he was wearing and then he walked to where he knew Aunt Petunia kept the first aid box.

The image shifted and with a start Harry realised he was no longer inside his own memory. This was Draco's recollection and he was also a child, possibly a little older than Harry had been in the last memory. He was standing in a large study next to a roaring fire; it was his father's study and Lucius was standing in front of his son.

"Draco," the tall blond man said with a warmth in his face that Harry had never seen before, "I think you are old enough to understand some things."

A rush of pride and love ran through the small boy and Harry felt it as if it was his own memory.

"I was very pleased with you today at your Aunt and Uncle's," Lucius continued evenly, "you did justice to the Malfoy name. There are some things you must always remember and now is the time for you to learn them."

Draco nodded to his parent gravely, feeling very important with a perfect trust in his father.

"You must always be superior to those around you, Draco," Lucius said firmly. "You are a Malfoy and we are always winners. I watched you today with the other children and I saw you lead them. That is what it means to be my son; do you understand?"

Looking up at the serious face of the man who was everything to him Draco learned, and he took the lesson right to his heart.

The scene changed again and Harry found himself back in his own past. This time he was at school, the primary school he and Dudley had attended. It was playtime but Harry was still inside with the teacher: he had a cold and he wasn't allowed outside with the other children. He had a book on his lap and he was reading, it was a large book with lots of pictures and fantastic stories of wizards and dragons. It was his favourite and Miss Michaels had pulled it out from the bookshelf for him as soon as the others had gone out to play.

Harry liked Miss Michaels, she was pretty and she didn't look at him like some of the others did. Aunt Petunia told everyone he was a troublesome child and Dudley made sure the other children wouldn't play with him if their mothers hadn't in the first place. Miss Michaels told him not to take any notice of what anyone else said: there were better people in the world than those he had met. When she said it, Harry believed her.

The memories continued, some happy some sad: Draco's grandmother dying; when Harry won the art competition at school because it was judged by someone his Aunt and Uncle had never spoken to; the time Draco had snuck out of his room in the middle of the night and met one of the ancestral ghosts in the garden. They moved through time together experiencing formative events in each of their lives. They shared their joy at their Hogwarts letters and the fear they had felt for the first time on the train. The first conversation in Madame Malkins from both of their perspectives revealed to them how maybe they could have been friends if it hadn't been for childish insecurities.

Harry shared how Hogwarts had become the family he had never had, and Draco showed him just how much being away from home had scared him. They shared everything that had been behind the masks of Gryffindor hero and Slytherin bully.

Then came the first memory of Voldemort: the first time Harry had risked him life for a cause he did not really comprehend. There was no holding back and the Gryffindor let everything flow from him. The vines, the chess set, the potions room, and the mirror with Quirrel in his turban. Harry showed Draco his terror and anger and then the astonishment when Voldemort was defeated. There was no pretence of the infallible hero that over the years the retelling of the tale had turned him into. Harry let Draco see the real events; he revealed his thankfulness for Hermione's brain; he let his lover feel the confusion and the helplessness as Ron sacrificed himself at the chess board so Harry could go on; and he showed him the complete shock and disgust at finding Quirrel was the enemy. It had been an astounding moment as the Gryffindor realised that not everything was as it seemed and probably one of the most important lessons he had ever learned.

When that memory was over the experience did not shift to Draco this time but moved on to Harry's second year. There was no exchange of recollections this time as his thoughts showed Draco what his life had become about: Tom Riddle, the basilisk and Harry's real fear that he was the evil which threatened his home. He replayed the first time he had heard the monster's voice and how the knowledge only he could hear it had affected him.

Harry let Draco see how they had used the polyjuice, and how after the loss of Hermione the twelve year old Gryffindor had been terrified that it was all his fault. Then the memory skipped to the end of the year where Harry and Ron had taken Lockheart down in the Chamber of Secrets. The Hecatemus revealed the desperation at finding Ginny so still and almost dead, he showed his lover the cold knowledge that the bite of the huge snake would kill him and the determination to stop Voldemort before he died flooded out of his mind.

Draco replied with his memory of the duelling club: exhibiting his determination to beat the great Harry Potter and his fear that he might lose. The images and emotion flooded into Harry and he realised for the first time how much of Draco's life had been about bringing down the Gryffindor hero. What he had never known and he saw as Draco revealed it to him, was how much the way the duel had ended had affected the twelve year old Slytherin.

There for Harry to see was the shock Draco had felt when Harry spoke to the snake: the disbelief that the pure Gryffindor had such a talent; and the jealousy that such a rare gift had been bestowed upon his enemy. Above all Draco showed how dismayed he had been as he realised that never, no matter how hard he worked, would he ever be able to beat Harry in this.

Then came happy memories from them both as if trying to point out that it was not all bad: just little snippets of their lives at Hogwarts before Harry's first meeting with a Dementor slipped into the fray. All of his third year seemed to come at once from Harry, fading through one memory into another showing the uncertainty, the fear, and then the realisation and happiness of finding Sirius who was almost family. There did not appear to be much separation in his mind between memories, as if the whole experience had been crammed into one part of Harry's thoughts. It was all revealed in one long string.

Draco showed Harry his joy at taunting The Boy Who Lived, the excitement of setting up the fake Dementor trick, and the fear that he would disappoint his father with his failure. It was always about being the best, about making his parents proud and memory after memory showed his growing fear that he had failed. Harry knew without a doubt that since the moment they had first spoken he had been a driving force in his lover's life and he was beginning to realise that Draco, although not the focus of everything, was always there in his. It was as if he'd been keeping an eye on his soul mate just waiting for the right time.

There were fewer happy memories now, only the odd one or two between darker scenes. The Triwizard tournament came and went from both their perspectives and the scenes of Cedric's death and Voldemort's return played out in their joined thoughts. Harry showed Draco his guilt and his fear. "Kill the spare" echoed through his mind more than once as he replayed the events for his lover, sharing his pain. These were the events which made him who he was: knowledge and terror too large for a fourteen year old boy, thrust upon him by a madman.

It was all about Voldemort now for both of them. Every thought they shared was overshadowed by He Who Shall Not Be Named as his interference shaped their lives. Surprisingly Draco shared more memories from that time than Harry: he had been in contact with his father far more than the Gryffindor ever realised and he had been a major source of information. The fact that he had betrayed Harry in so many ways left Draco's thoughts tinged heavily with guilt because they both knew what was coming.

Harry showed his lover only one memory of any length from his fifth year and that played out in slow, agonising detail. It started as the rescue party from the Order burst in to the Department of Mysteries; it moved through the battle that resulted; it seemed to crawl through the precious seconds when Sirius fell, stupefied through the veil; and surprisingly it ended with Harry's failed Cruciatus curse at Bellatrix Lestrange. Every moment of anger and pain was so clear it was almost like reliving it; only this time Harry could feel the mental arms of his lover holding him tightly.

Draco's reply was the disbelief and anger he had felt when he heard of his father's capture. The humiliation and fear that his parent could fail so completely was not something Harry had understood.

Their worlds had come crashing down and they shared their pain and sorrow and their will to go on. Harry showed Draco the double life he had lived through his sixth year and Draco revealed how he had had to grow up and face that this was not a children's game anymore.

And finally there was Draco's meeting with Voldemort: the turning point of a boy's life that truly made him a man. Harry felt his lover's fear and excitement when his father arrived at the Manor and instructed him to get ready. His time had finally come and Draco was ready to take his place by Lucius' side for the Dark Lord's great cause. Harry saw Voldemort through Draco's eyes and felt his shock at the twisted, ugly thing he was presented to like a present: nothing like the true Death Eater's son had imagined; nothing like he had been told. Then came the realisation; the dawning light as Draco listened to the shell of a creature speak and watched as Voldemort's minions crawled to their master on their hands and knees. It had suddenly become clear for Draco and he had understood.

But worst of all was the following betrayal. Draco showed Harry how he had revealed the truth to his father, how he expected his parent to explain and show him that everything was not as it seemed. Draco let him see his complete terror, as he understood that his father was beyond angry, and he shared the torture his parent had put him through. The pain had been bad and Draco had begged for mercy, but that was not what had almost destroyed him. What had left him crying into his pillow every night was the knowledge that his father was lost; the inescapable truth that Lucius had been claimed by a madness from which he would never recover.

Everything Draco had believed in had died that Summer and he had been empty when he returned to school: empty and waiting to be filled by Harry Potter.

The room filtered back in slowly and Harry found himself still looking into Draco's grey gaze. They had not shown each other everything, the process had not leeched every memory from their minds and given it to the other, but now they understood. The Hecatemus could feel the knowledge of himself in his soul mate and Harry recognized what it was that fundamentally made Draco who he was. They did not move for a long time and then Harry sat forward and drew his lover into a fierce embrace.

       

Harry was sitting stretched out on the bed reading Quidditch Weekly when the talking wall flashed up some words. He looked up and read the message.

{Can we come in? It's Ron and Hermione. Madame Pomfrey says it's time you had visitors.}

The idea of letting people through the door filled Harry with the same trepidation as it had done when Madame Pomfrey had been in, but he was also over the moon that his friends had come to see him. As usual he found himself conflicted. He had spoken to Ron and Hermione through the wall every day, but it was not easy to have conversations in six-inch high letters where everyone could see, especially when your predicament was a secret to all but a select few. Draco had spoken to several of the Slytherins the same way keeping up the pretence that being locked in isolation with Harry Potter was the worst experience known to man.

[Are you okay?] came from Draco's direction.

He was having a soak in the bath, something of which he seemed inordinately fond, but Harry heard the water splash as his lover sat up and asked his question.

[Fine,] he told Draco as calmly as he could manage, [Ron and Hermione just asked to come in.]

[Are you sure you're up to visitors?] came the overprotective response and the water splashed again.

[We can't stay in here forever,] Harry replied evenly. [Relax. You finish your bath and I'll let them in. Just don't prance out of the bathroom stark naked.]

[Potter,] Draco said pointedly, [no matter what your fantasies, I have no intention of streaking for your friends.]

Harry laughed and climbed off the bed. He lent into the bathroom where his lover was up to his neck in suds, blew Draco a kiss and then closed the door. Walking to the talking wall he touched the activation stone.

"Hi, it's Harry," he said and the words wrote on the wall under the other message, "give me five minutes and then ask Madame Pomfrey to let you in."

{Great,} came the response, {see you soon.}

Once that was settled Harry wandered over to the summoning alcove.

"Tea and cake for four, please," he said politely.

A table, a teapot, four cups and saucers, a pile of plates and a two-layer tray of cakes appeared almost instantly.

"Thank you," Harry said with a half smile.

Draco and he had discovered over their time in the room that when Dumbledore had told them to ask the alcove nicely for things, he had not been using a turn of phrase. Only once had Draco demanded something from it without a please or thank you and rather than a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk he had ended up with a milk sandwich and a glass of cheese. Since then they had both taken great care to be polite to the alcove and not hurt its feelings.

Once the niceties had been sorted out, Harry returned to the bed where he sat down and crossed his legs. He had been practising keeping his mental barriers in place for two days now and he was feeling quite optimistic. The only problem was, he had never tried without Draco right by his side when there was anyone in the room. Using the door as a point of focus he brought his shields up to the point where it looked completely normal.

[You're getting good at that,] Draco commented from the other room.

When Harry played with his mental protection his soul mate always seemed to know and Draco sounded quite proud of him.

[Thanks,] Harry replied with a smile, [I hope it lasts.]

He went back to testing his shields, wondering how they would hold up against real people. There was a knock at the door; the door opened quickly; Ron and Hermione shot through and then the door closed again. Harry beamed at his friends and climbed off the bed.

"Hello," he greeted cheerfully, hands slipping into his pockets in a reflex gesture to stop himself reaching out to them.

"Hello, yourself," Ron replied with a grin, "it's like getting into a goblin vault coming to see you."

"They don't want us escaping," Harry joked back, "they've only taken the manacles off to keep up appearances."

The other two laughed, but it turned into a vaguely awkward silence. Face to face was so much harder than through the wall and it was obvious no one really knew what to say next.

"I ordered us some tea and cake," Harry broke the pause a little too enthusiastically, "would you like some?"

"You know me," Ron said with a far too bright smile, "always up for food."

"Thanks," was all Hermione added to the conversation.

Harry busied himself with playing the perfect host, trying not to dwell on how awkward the whole situation felt. There was no chair so his friends perched on the edge of the bed as he poured the tea. It was as Harry was reaching for the plates trying to figure out what neutral topic of conversation to bring up when he decided he was being an idiot.

"This is stupid," he said, half to himself and half to the world.

Standing up straight he took a deep breath and turned round.

"Hello," he said firmly, "I'm Harry Potter. Have we met?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another and slowly a smile began playing at best friend's lips quickly mirrored by Hermione.

"We're being ridiculous aren't we," the girl said with a shake of her head.

Harry nodded.

"I think I was about to turn into Mother Hen," he said with a wry grin.

"That would be a waste of a good animagus," Ron said lightly.

Harry managed to laugh at that and a good deal of the tension in the room reduced considerably. Feeling somewhat better about the whole thing Harry gave out the tea and cake.

"So what's the rumour mill saying about us?" he asked and sat back down at the head of the bed. "Do they reckon I poisoned Draco or he poisoned me?"

"Well the official story has about a fifty percent supporter rate," Ron provided cheerfully, "but the next most popular theory is that He Who Must Not Be Named attacked you using Malfoy and that he was trying to polish you off and was caught in the cross fire."

"And they become more ridiculous from there," Hermione put in with a disgusted tone of voice. "So far no one has even guessed at a glimmer of the truth."

At least Harry could be thankful for small mercies. It was not easy living your life when everyone else was interested in your affairs, and the truth being leaked was one of the young man's greatest fears.

"So how's life in here?" Hermione continued the conversation. "Dumbledore asked me to pick up all the work you're missing for both of you, did you get it okay?"

"Yes, thanks," Harry replied with a dramatic sigh. "No rest for the wicked. Snape's note about handing in the essay late was just so sympathetic; you'd think I disrupted his lesson deliberately."

Ron snorted a laugh at that.

"Just be glad you haven't been in the classroom," Hermione told Harry conspiratorially, "ever since you collapsed Snape had been impossible. He's been taking house points left right and centre, even from the Slytherins."

"And he's just as bad if you meet him in the hallways," Ron agreed earnestly.

"He doesn't do worry well," the voice came from the direction of the bathroom and Harry turned to see Draco standing in the doorway.

His lover was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of Harry's jeans that were slightly too long and came down over his bare feet. The wizard's damp hair was falling round his face in a delightfully unordered way and Harry thought he'd never seen his soul mate look quite so edible. If they had been alone Draco probably wouldn't have been wearing the clothes very long. Harry had never really had time to be a normal, hormonal driven teenager and girls had often been the last thing on his mind, but these days he didn't seem to be able to keep his mind off sex; well at least not when Draco was in the room.

"If that's worry, I'd hate to see fear," Ron commented.

Harry noticed that his best friend no longer looked comfortable, but that was to be expected, after all Draco was Ron's number one enemy. It was not going to be easy for either to accept the other.

"If he shows he cares he'll blow his cover," Draco said as if explaining it to a child, "it's not exactly done for a Death Eater to be worrying about pupils."

Hermione looked at Harry and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was: head off the pair before they ended up in an argument.

"Professor Dumbledore told us you're on our side now," the young woman launched into a different topic of conversation in an attempt to distract Draco. "Do you mind me asking why?"

Harry saw his lover's eyes harden and a spike of anger went through the private young man.

[He had to tell them,] Harry said soothingly, [they need to know if they're going to help us.]

Draco was very touchy about his personal business and he was obviously uncomfortable about Dumbledore mentioning his position to anyone. Harry sent his soul mate some supportive emotions and patted the bed beside him. For a moment Draco appeared undecided and then he walked across the room, stepped up onto the bed and sat down against the headboard the other side of Harry. He did not feel particularly happy about the situation, but so far things were going better than Harry had expected.

"My reasons involve Voldemort, my father, me and the Cruciatus curse," Draco said shortly, "and that is as far as I care to discus it right now."

Without really thinking about it Harry put his arm around his lover and he saw Ron's eyes open slightly in surprise. Obviously, being told some facts and actually seeing them were two different things for his best friend. Draco leant into the offered comfort and relaxed a little: somehow life always seemed so much easier when they were together.

"How long were you two seeing each other before you, ah..?" Hermione tried yet another tack: Harry gave her a thank you with his eyes.

"Shagged?" Draco filled in for her.

Harry had the distinct impression that his lover was going for the shock value, but his response drew a smile from the girl instead. Draco felt surprised, but he did not show anything on the outside.

"Since a couple of weeks into term," Harry provided the answer. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but the more people who knew about Draco the greater the danger his father would find out."

He neglected to mention he also thought Ron would have gone ballistic. If he admitted to the truth, Harry had been quite glad that he had been unconscious when his friend had found out about Draco.

"We wouldn't have told anyone, you could have given us a hint," Ron said in a slightly hurt tone.

"I asked him not to," surprisingly Draco's voice held none of its previous anger.

Harry appreciated his lover taking the heat for this decision, but he was not going to let him take all the blame.

"And I couldn't take the risk that we'd be overheard, Ron," Harry said calmly. "I don't think your reaction would have been quiet."

His friend still looked hurt, but as Hermione took her boyfriend's hand the frown growing on his face slowly dissipated. Following a sudden urge Harry weakened his mental barriers until he could just see the forces around him. He looked at his two friends and couldn't help smiling.

"Did you know love is gold?" he said quietly.

Hermione smiled back at him and Ron appeared a little startled at the sudden change in conversation. As the surprise wore off, Harry could tell that a thousand questions piled into his best friend's brain.

"You can really see that?" Ron asked eventually.

Harry nodded openly.

"People in love glow," he said calmly, "it's the easiest emotion to see. Magic looks metallic as well, but it's different somehow."

If asked to explain how he could tell the difference between a gold piece of magic and an emotion Harry wouldn't have been able to: to him it was just obvious.

"Can you tell what other people are thinking?" Ron asked a little hesitantly.

"Only Draco," Harry assured him with a grin, "and that's distracting enough."

"You think my mind's distracting," Draco commented dryly, "I'm not the sex crazed loon. You should try it from this side."

"Funny," Harry replied without pausing to think, "I don't recall hearing you complaining."

"Really?" Draco shot back almost instantly. "I'm sure I remember..."

Hermione coughed and Harry looked up to find a bright red Ron looking anywhere but at him and Draco. Harry was not sure whether to laugh or be mortified over what he and his soul mate had just been saying. In the end he went for the laugh.

"Sorry," he apologised as he regained his composure, "I guess that was a little too much information, but, Ron, you did want to know everything."

His friend picked up the first thing that came to hand and threw it: it was a chocolate ‚clair and it hit Harry square on the nose. Draco found this hilariously funny and laughed loudly until a cream bun collided with his chest. Harry glanced over to see Hermione looking totally unrepentant. The Hecatemus looked at his lover who looked right back.

[Do they get away with that?] Harry asked calmly.

[Merlin, no!] was Draco's instant response.

A large slice of Victoria sponge went sailing through the air to hit Ron on the ear and a custard doughnut made a beautiful mess down Hermione's hair. After that it was a free for all: every witch and wizard for herself or himself. It took five minutes to turn the whole room into a war zone at which point they ran out of ammunition and collapsed in giggling heaps wherever they happened to be.

"God, I haven't done anything that silly since I was twelve," Draco said as he tried to pull cream out of his hair where he was sitting next to the bathroom door.

"I beg to differ," Ron said grandly, "there was the ferret incident."

The two looked at each other for a moment, Ron had obviously just realised what he'd said and did not know how Draco was going to react. Harry watched them, totally unconcerned -- there was no anger coming from his lover. Ron appeared to he holding his breath and he let it out in one big rush when Draco finally smiled.

"Do you have any idea how confusing it is to suddenly find you have fur?" the cream covered Slytherin said, much to Ron's surprise.

Harry laughed: this might just work after all. If nothing else they could bond over the clearing up; there did not appear to be a single surface in the room that was not covered in some form of cake.

"Actually, yes," Ron said much to both Harry and Hermione's shock, "has Harry told you about the Animagus stuff yet?"

Maybe covering a room in confectionary was more of a bonding ritual than Harry had realised because he was quite amazed by Ron's words. Draco was in Harry's head; Harry was in Draco's; so they would find out everything about each other eventually, although they hadn't covered that particular topic yet, but that possibly the Gryffindor most paranoid about 'evil Slytherins' was revealing information to a Malfoy, willingly, was quite astounding.

"You're an Animagus?" Draco looked and felt startled, and he was looking at Ron with a kind of respect Harry had never seen in his eyes before.

"Actually we all are," his friend replied, obviously enjoying the trump card he had just played.

Draco looked at Harry open mouthed and appeared to be trying to figure out if Ron was pulling his leg.

[It's true,] Harry replied honestly, [it all has to do with Sirius. It's a long story, we'll explain.]

"You had bloody well better," Draco said out loud which confused the other two people in the room.

This was turning into a fun afternoon: Harry was looking forward to this conversation. He may have been madly in love with Draco but that didn't mean shocking him to the roots of his white blond hair was not entertaining as well.

End of Chapter 8

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