Chapter 15: Fault and Love

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"The Horcrux...is in Draco's vault?"

Harry stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Albus nodded at his young student, sorrow in his eyes.

 "But why?" 

The old man sighed. "I do not claim to know Lucius or Voldemort's minds, Harry. Whatever their reasons, the Horcrux is in Draco's vault at Gringott's. His father does not allow him to enter the vault, for fear that Draco might do something with it, however innocently. I assume that Voldemort let Lucius put it there, because it is one of the least likely places to hide a Horcrux. And the blame, if there was any, would be placed on Draco's shoulders, not Lucius', for he could claim to have known nothing of it." 

Harry clenched his hands into fists. "His own father," he said through gritted teeth. "Using his son as a scapegoat...he doesn't even try to protect Draco...I hate him!" 

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Calm yourself, Harry," he said in a soothing voice. Harry looked around, and noticed the objects on Dumbledore's desk trembling from the waves of his magic that roiled. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it, calming himself. 

His Headmaster seemed somewhat pleased. "You can use this power, Harry," he said. "You can use it to help Draco. Harness your love for him and for your other friends, and use it to defeat Voldemort." 

"My what for Draco?" Harry looked confused. 

"Your love for him." Harry still looked confused, so Dumbledore explained. "This anger you feel, this need to protect Draco...it's more powerful than the time Hermione was Petrified, is it not?" 

Harry thought for a moment. "I was scared for her," he said at last. "But not as scared as I am for Draco..." He looked concerned. "Does that mean I don't care?"

 Dumbledore shook his head, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "No. It does show you care. And in different ways..." 

"I don't understand." 

"You love Hermione like a sister, correct?" A nod from Harry. "And you think you love Draco like a brother?" A slower nod from Harry. "Well, Harry, sometimes the differences between types of love can be blurred." 

"What do you mean, Professor?" 

The Headmaster smiled. "There are many types of love in this world, my boy. For example, there is the love of family, the love of friendship, and, of course, the love for another with which you would bind your life. Then there are the more obscure types of love. An intense love could be mistaken for hatred, when really, you are just frustrated by your inability to demonstrate that love. Love can be mistaken for fear of a person, when really, you simply fear losing them or fear rejection. It's complicated." 

Harry looked completely bewildered. "So...Voldemort's hatred for me is really love?" 

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Harry, that really is a true hatred. Voldemort hates and fears you, for you are one of the few who can bring his reign of terror to its knees." 

The boy was silent for a few moments, then he spoke, slowly and hesitantly. "Draco hated me all throughout school...and I hated him a few times as well. Are you saying..." His voice trailed off for a moment, then he continued, almost whispering. "Are you saying...we love each other?" 

Dumbledore stood, and went over to Fawkes' perch. The phoenix chirped lightly, as his master's hand stroked his feathers. "I'm not saying anything is certain," he said cautiously. "But things do seem to point to that conclusion." 

"But I'm straight!" 

Dumbledore turned. "Being straight has nothing to do with it, Harry. When you love someone, it doesn't matter who they are, or what their gender is. It's who they are, what makes them...them." 

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