Empty Spaces

Chapter 50

Aberforth was quiet, but it was a reflective silence rather than a cold one.

"Figured you were bound to ask sooner or later," he said finally. "And to be honest, I don't really even know myself. Getting old, I guess, old and sentimental... thinking maybe it's not too late to make a difference in someone's life..."

Draco refilled their glasses, filling the empty space more than anything else. He nodded, not wanting to press while somehow still trying to make sure Aberforth knew he was listening.

"Maybe if someone had stepped in to help my own son, if I had been there to help him sooner, if I had known..." Aberforth trailed off, torn and broken. He looked up at last, then smiled sadly at Draco's concealed reaction. "Didn't know I had a son, did you? Hardly anyone does. Our time together was painfully short... just the blink of an eye. Such a good kid. Smart, so much smarter than I could ever be, and talented. Not unlike yourself. But you don't need to know the tangled secrets of an old man, kid, don't worry–"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Draco interjected, "I'm not going to pry, I'm sorry, it was a personal question. But if you can tell me, I'd like to hear..." The realization that he knew next to nothing about Aberforth's life was hitting hard. Of course he hadn't always been an old man; everyone has a story, many stories, and Draco had never once thought to ask.

"My son had no one. Not even me," Aberforth said after a while. "He was about your age when I met him and he died shortly after. Just like you, he'd spent his whole life tangled up in things bigger than him, seeing things no kid should have to see, caught up in a war that no kid should be part of. By the time I found him, by the time he came to me... I couldn't help him... I couldn't save him."

Aberforth paused, looking down at the glass in his hands.

"There are no words to fill the emptiness, the raw pain... People like to say things get better over time, but that's just stupid sayings from stupid people who don't know real loss."

Draco nodded, letting Aberforth's story seep in, appreciating his blunt honesty.

"I failed my own son," Aberforth said, sounding broken once more, "Failed my sister, too. Why help you? I don't know. I couldn't help my sister, and I couldn't help my son. But when I saw you walk into my bar, desperate and alone, when I saw that look in your eyes... I saw my son all over again. Maybe he sent you to me and maybe he didn't, I don't know. You're a good kid, a fighter, and you would have found your way with or without me. But if there's anything I did to help make it at least a little easier for you, well, maybe my life hasn't been a complete failure after all... And now you know. I'm just a selfish old man, desperately trying for one last shot at redemption. You remind me so much of him..."

Draco's brain said Lucius was right; that nobody gives anything away for free, including the old man. That everyone acts for their own self-serving reasons, Aberforth even said it himself. He's not helping you because he loves you. He's helping you for his own selfish purposes of easing his own guilt.

Except it was all empty words inside Draco's head. His heart knew better. Harry had shown him that.

"Ah, I'm sorry, kid, I shouldn't burden you with the troubles of an old man," Aberforth apologized, "I helped you because I like you. You're everything I'm not. Smart, good with words, good with people, but quiet too. Just like my son. Come here..." Aberforth pulled Draco into his arms like a child. "I'm proud of you, kid. It takes an incredible person to do what you're doing, deal with the shit you've been handed and rise above it all. No matter what happens, I'll always be here if you need it."

They stayed for a while, Draco taking in the familiar smell of firewhiskey and smoke. It smelled like comfort. Like home.

"Don't be sorry," Draco said at last, determined to be as open and honest as Aberforth had been with him. "I asked. And I'm glad you shared. I'm so sorry to hear about your son, you're right, I had no idea. And I'm not going to pretend I know what that kind of loss feels like, I know I don't and it would be shitty of me to try and act otherwise. I do think you're wrong about one thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"I have no idea where I'd be without you... Thank you, for everything..."

"You would have found your way," Aberforth reassured, "But thanks, kid, that means a lot."

The silence settled once more and Draco felt things inside his heart beginning to unclench. He could hear the shuffling of footsteps in the rooms upstairs, people settling in for the night, blissfully unaware...

"My father came back," Draco said softly, almost to himself more than anything else. "Formulated this whole escape plan with some Ministry worker... But I stood up to him, I fought him with my own wand, my own hand... Brought him to his knees... and..."

Draco trailed off, the memory still so fresh that he could feel the rush of power coursing through his veins once more. Lucius on the ground, wandless, powerless, helpless...

"I didn't do it," he said quickly, determined to make sure Aberforth wasn't jumping to any conclusions. But the old man just sat, listening, understanding. No judgment. "But... I wanted to..."

"Only you didn't," Aberforth said gently. "That right there, that's what I'm talking about. You care. I've lived a long time, kid, trust me when I say the ability to give a shit is a rare gem of a gift in a person. So what happened next?"

"What...? They took him back to Azkaban. The Aurors. They even had a goddamn dementor with them, ready to deliver the kiss. What the actual fuck?? Everyone talks all this shit about me and my family– we're soooo fucking evil– but a team of Aurors can just show up at someone's house ready to steal their soul and everybody acts like THAT'S totally fucking normal???"

"I'm sorry, kid."

"They didn't actually do it, though. I... talked them out of it..." Draco clarified, "They're putting him in complete isolation now, no contact with anybody anymore, not even in writing. He always told me that our family was untouchable. And now, he is."

"But there's more," Aberforth observed.

"He's finally gone. Forever," Draco said, wondering where those feelings of elation were that he'd imagined so many times. Freedom felt nothing like he thought it would.

"Mmm," Aberforth simply nodded, listening. Somewhere, a door creaked.

"I just... I thought it would be different. Feel different," Draco admitted. "Nothing's changed. I can still hear his voice inside my head, I still can't ask a simple fucking question without first having to fight a whole goddamn battle with my own fucking self. He's gone but he's not really gone, is he? Fucker's part of who I am... I've tried so hard not to let him in, not to become him... what if... what if he's not the problem??? What if it's really been me this whole time...?"

"Kid..." Aberforth said softly, "I'm gonna be honest with you, it's both. You can't choose who your father was any more than you can choose how he decided to raise you. You're stuck with that forever, whether you like it or not. But it's only a problem if you let it become one for you. I know. It's unfair and it's stupid and it's awful and nobody should have to deal with shit like that, but you'll have to. That part of him that lives inside you, you'll have to ignore it and fight it. Some days will be easy and some days will be hard. But you'll get through them. If you need help, you've got friends who can help you. I won't lie to you, pain like that doesn't go away. But you can fill your life with other things, things that make it easier, things that bring you happiness, true joy... It's a journey that has no end. Believe me, I know, it took me a whole lifetime to find you. You were worth the wait, though, trust me."

It's both.

Freedom was nothing like he thought it would be, but that's because freedom was a figment of his imagination. Lucius was his father– a part of him– whether Draco liked it or not. There wasn't going to be this glorious moment where the voices stopped and the guilt disappeared. It was up to Draco to keep it all at bay, to learn to harness it for strength and ignore it when he needed to. He would have to face his father in the same way he'd learned to face the death and destruction of war.

"Sorry, kid, I know it's probably not what you wanted to hear," Aberforth apologized.

"No, no, it's exactly what I needed to hear," Draco corrected. "And... for what it's worth... I'm glad I found you, too. Thanks. For everything."

The door creaked again, making both Draco and Aberforth look up in suspicion while Harry Potter ascended the stairs back to his room, a new resolve forming in his mind.